#and looks loose enough for me to draw coincidences

[lionizehim]

throwaway thought on my rwby side blog, but i can't help and wonder if i'm reading too much into the paper pleasers and the fact that they're origami and that they believe in some version of reincarnation ala buddism. and then everyone calling them suicidal (negative connotation) afterwards

[forlix]

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・779 / 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・hyunjin x gn!reader / 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲(𝘀)・fluff, established relationship, intentional lowercase / 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲・inspired by That ig post and my own recent visit to tokyo. happy birthday, @astraystayyh; consider this my official proposal (˘⌣˘ )♡

𝟭𝟳:𝟱𝟮 — when you slip out the hotel’s double doors, you’re stunned to find the world has gone completely dark.

just a few hours ago, you were oohing and ahhing at the colorful chaos of tokyo as the van trudged slowly along the jammed freeway. now, blue has been overtaken by obsidian, and the illuminated city sprawls beneath an invisible horizon like stars plucked from the empty sky.

“the sun sets early here, huh?” hyunjin hums as he appears at your side. his dark hair is scented and silky from his shower, his broad shoulders outlined by the denim trench coat he’s thrown over a black turtleneck—the most beautiful boy on earth, and he’s yours.

“i was j-just thinking that,” you answer through chattering teeth, and your boyfriend’s chuckle hits the air in the form of a silver cloud.

“i told you you’d need this.”

he drapes a puffer jacket around you; his arm follows, draws you near. you slot into his side perfectly.

“better?”

your eyes lock with hyunjin’s, then flicker downwards. the doormen are busy loading a luggage cart. the foyer is empty for the most part. empty enough. 

“better,” you respond, moments before you lose yourself in the warm pressure of his lips.

soft hair tickles your cheeks like butterfly wings. hyunjin’s been tempted to cut it recently, complaining that it’s getting too long. you’ve been rejecting the notion vehemently, and this is one of many reasons why. your fingers skim over the base of his neck, and the air that hyunjin sucks through his teeth whistles past your parted mouth.

“cold,” he whines. 

a giggle escapes your throat. “sorry.”

recently, your and hyunjin’s schedules have been clashing so awfully that you really only see each other before and after bed. both of you are well accustomed to these cycles of mutual scarcity by now; it is enough, during such times, just falling asleep to the sound of the other’s voice, or waking to kisses scattered across every inch of exposed skin and a quiet, melancholy “see you tonight, angel.”

but then, you miraculously stumble upon a free weekend that coincides with the last leg of hyunjin’s tour. he’s on the phone with staff within seconds of hearing the news; your boarding pass arrives in your inbox later that night; now, here you are, in japan on a friday night, burrowed in your boyfriend’s arms, your sights set on a tiny udon joint in the back alleys of shinjuku.

going out in public with hyunjin feels like you’re playing poker. dispatch is your opponent and the deck is always rigged. ninety-nine percent of the time, you prefer to circumvent the game entirely. 

you’re all in, tonight.

“it’s a twenty-seven minute walk.” dark locks fall into hyunjin’s face as he looks at the navigation app on his phone. “is that okay?”

“you tell me. you’re the one who rehearsed for three hours today." you reach for the loose strands; tuck them behind the cuff of his ear. “maybe we should just take the subway.”

“but i wanna explore the city with you.”

“and we can, after your concerts.”

“i only have you for two days. let’s start now.”

the funny look you give him says, we have an apartment together, idiot, and he hastens to add—

“okay, i only have you here for two days. it’s different.”

that, you can’t argue with. hyunjin takes your lack of a retort as his cue to begin your journey, dragging the both of you onto the sidewalk. 

“i will not be the one answering to chan when you oversleep tomorrow,” you mumble.

his hand stretches out where it rests on your shoulder, silently asking for yours. you oblige before you even process his request, your fingers sliding thoughtlessly in the spaces between his.

“deal.” hyunjin presses a swift kiss to your temple, your eye squinting shut at the contact.

if you’re being honest, you hardly remember the walk to the restaurant. all the bright lights are beautiful but get old quickly, eventually blurring into a forgettable, fluorescent mass.

what you do remember is hyunjin’s excited gasp when he recognizes the anime being advertised on a distant billboard. hyunjin’s flawless japanese as he helps an old couple with directions, and the proud smile he wears afterward (he’s been practicing). hyunjin’s fingers pulling you close by the loops of your jeans, his mouth slanting over yours for the ninth, tenth time with no justification except for you’re just so pretty. hyunjin’s hair fluttering over his eyes when he tilts his head at the camera, the resulting picture so maddeningly beautiful that it becomes your new wallpaper right away.

what you do remember from that evening, and what you would remember in every iteration of your life, is hyunjin.

(you remember the udon, too. it was very good.)

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn

© 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘅 (est. 090323) · 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

[alaydabug2]

Finally got thus stupid thing finished 😭

(Keefe pov)

All day, Keefe had been getting a tickle in his throat. He'd been trying to cough out whatever was causing it, but it never budged.

He plopped down onto his bed with a bottle of youth. If he gargled, it might wash it out. After several swigs, something was floating in his mouth. He rushed to his bathroom to spit it out.

He squinted at the thing. It looked like a flower petal. When did he eat a flower? It wasn't anytime recent he was dared to do that. And it definitely wasn't a rose that he ate before.

He shook his head. It was probably just a weird coincidence. He went to go draw.

A couple of days later, another tickle in his throat. Except this time, it was almost painful. It felt like when food went down the wrong pipe.

He hacked it out this time. A couple of bloodied petals ended up in his hands.

What? How was this happening?

He crushed the petals in his hands to hide them from the other people in the crystal hallway. Ro was currently patrolling with Sandor. If he could get to Elwin's office before she came back, that meant he could avoid questions from her.

Keefe changed his course of direction to go against the flow of the foot tragic. He shoved through the people.

He busted through to the doors of the Healing Center. Elwin turned from what he was doing.

"What did you get into this time?" Elwin asked.

Keefe unfurled his shaky fist to reveal the flower petals. Elwin furrowed his brow as he inspected them further.

"Where did this come from?" Elwin asked.

"I coughed it up. This is the second time this week," Keefe explained

"Coughed it up? What do you mean by that?"

"I had a tickle in my throat, kind of like when food is stuck. So I tried to get it loose, and the petals came up. And, no, I didn't eat any flowers before you ask."

Elwin motioned for Keefe to sit on a cott. He flashed several lights around Keefe's body. He paused when he got to the chest. He squinted.

"That's... not good," Elwin muttered. He flashed a few other colors. "I thought that it only affected gnomes."

"Is it the plague?" Keefe asked worriedly.

Elwin shook his head. "No. It's something called Hanakai Disease. I just assumed it only affected gnomes because of the flowers. Apparently not."

"Ok... so how does it spread? Am I contagious?"

Elwin leaned against the counter, brushing the hair from his eyes. "How do I put this gently. It's not contagious, but the way you get it is from... unrequited love."

Keefe felt his face go red. "Unrequited love?"

Elwin nodded with pursed lips. "It starts off with petals, but they slowly bloom into full flowers. They start to choke you and keep you from breathing correctly."

He crossed his arms. "So what can I do about it?"

He sighed. "Well... not much. They only go away until the love is returned. Or... can be taken out in an operation-"

"Then do that!" Keefe interrupted.

Elwin held a hand up. "Let me finish. That also gets rid of the feelings. Permanently."

"Oh. How long would I have until..."

"Depends on how bad you've got it for Sophie. But knowing you, probably about two months, give or take."

Keefe hated that he'd been so blatantly called out. But... he wasn't necessarily wrong. All of that meant he actually had to talk to Sophie. About feelings. Yeah, no, not thrilled about it.

Could he stall on this? He certainly was going to try. But how badly would that end up for him.

Bad. That's how.

He had managed to hide his little Healing Center trip from Ro. But she was getting suspicious. Especially so whenever he was around Sophie.

Apparently, his symptoms got worse whenever he was around her. Found out the hard way when at Havenfeild he couldn't stop coughing. The petals kept on coming. By the time he left, his pockets were stuffed with enough petals for a bouquet.

He flopped back onto his bed when he got home. It was progressing to be more than just the coughing.

Keefe's eyes watered as it felt like his throat was closing off. Ro was in the other room. He couldn't let her know. Not only would he be teased mercilessly for getting litterly lovesick, but she would totally go straight to Sophie and tell on him. He didn't want his confession to be 'Hey I'm dying unless you love me back'.

But, boy, was he panicking now. He couldn't get the breath in.

His door creaked open. He was met with Ro staring at him.

"Hunkyhair, you good?" He shook his head, pointing to his throat. "Are you choking on something?"

Ro made her way to him and slapped him on the back. Hard.

It did the trick, however. With one last hack, a rose bud landed on his carpet. He gasped in glorious air. It sounded like a fish out of water.

Ro bent down to pick it up. She shook the blood off of it.

"Is this... a flower?" She stared dead into his eyes.

Keefe shrugged. Maybe she wouldn't know what Hanakai Disease was.

But off course she did. It couldn't be that easy.

"Oh my gosh," Ro murmured. "You REALLY have it bad for Blondie, don't you."

"Shut up!" Keefe snapped.

She crossed her arm. "Dude your litterly dying, and you STILL want to stall." He rolled his eyes at her. "Fine, your funeral. But when do you plan to tell her."

"Eventually."

She snorted. "Ok. Sure. How long have you had this for, anyway?"

"Over three weeks," he mumbled.

Ro studied her claws. "Yeah, you're a gonner."

Keefe had been dealing with it for a few more weeks. More of the buds were deciding to make its way from hus lungs, causing him issues.

The moment he'd been dreading finally came.

He was drawing at his desk when something lodged in his throat. It was bigger than the others. Absolutely zero oxygen would get through.

He tried to make a noise for help, but nothing. Ro was across the house. No one was there to help.

Tears pricked his eyes. He tried to claw at his throat with no luck. Just when his vision was spotting, there was a knock on his door.

Keefe didn't care who it was anymore. He needed help.

He rushed to open the door. When he did... Sophie was standing there. The lump choking him got bigger.

He tried to gesture what was going on. She didn't seem to be getting the hint.

She placed a hand on his shoulders to steady him. "Hey, you alright?"

Keefe shook his head so hard it hurt. He managed to cough. Blood dripped down his lips. What felt like an entire flower came up into his mouth. He spit some of the petals out onto the ground.

Sophie stepped back in horror.

"Keefe!" She shouted.

She tried to pat on his back to knock it loose, only succeeding it more blood filling his mouth.

His head was clouded with oxygen deprivation. His limbs were growing weak. His legs gave out, and he fell to the ground. Sophie knelt beside him, rolling him onto his side.

Keefe continued to hack up more blood and full roses. She gently rocked him back and forth to ease all the stuff out.

He started to hear sniffles. From what was left of his vision, Sophie was crying above him.

He finally gave into the darkness after one last heave of petals. He was going to die.

At some point, he started to stir awake. How was he alive.

Keefe rolled onto his back, sputtering. He found that his head was resting in Sophie's lap, who was in tears.

"Keefe?" She whispered.

"Foster."

"Are you better now?" She brushed some of the petals off of his shirt.

Hesitantly, he nodded. It didn't feel like anything was left in his lungs. How...?

Sophie leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Keefe's forehead and brushed his sweaty hair back, awnsering hus question. "Good."

[gipitothefrog]

Crime Fic

Word count: 833

@wolfstarmicrofic

Tw: mentions of domestic abuse, murder, human trafficking

Remus took a long draw from his cigar, contemplating the evidence in front of him. Usually this was the part of the case he liked the best; where everything fell together and became clear. But now, there was something off. Something missing? No. Something already there that he had missed? It was a possibility, but a rare one at that. Something he had learned long ago was to never overestimate oneself. The human mind always makes errors, no matter how well trained.

As he was perusing the alibis he had collected, he noticed something he hadn’t before. According to one James Potter, on the night of the crime he was with Sirius Black. Black… Now where had he heard that name before?

Looking over at the list of victims, there were surprisingly three Blacks in the list. Orion Black, Walpurga Black, and Bellatrix Lestrange (née Black). 

A coincidence? In this business, Remus knew you rarely found a coincidence.

“Mary?”

His secretary looked up.

“Call in Sirius Black for interrogation.”

“Sirius Black? Are you insane? He’s incredibly powerful, if you mess with him-”

“The only thing I want is to catch the murderer still on the loose and get a glass of whiskey. Be a doll, Mary, and call him in?”

Mary muttered something along the lines of, “I won’t if you call me a doll again,” but she thankfully obliged. 

Surprisingly, Sirius came in. Remus normally had to go to the suspects house himself. Not only that, but he was there within an hour of calling in. Remus narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Why had he come in so soon? How did he get here? Did he have any motives? If so, what? Why was he smiling like-

“Well, I’m lucky, aren’t I?” Sirius asked. “I thought it would be some old bat wanting to interrogate me, not a handsome man like you.”

That was… certainly something.

“Hello Mr. Black. My name is Remus Lupin. I’m investigating the murder of six people that occurred on October 31st this year. I need to ask you a few questions.”

Sirius fake-pouted. “Do you really think that I did it? Just look at me! I’m the epitome of innocence.”

Remus looked back at him, unimpressed. “Please sit down, Mr. Black. The sooner this is over, the sooner you get to go.”

Sirius sat down and leaned across Remus’ desk, so far that their noses were nearly touching.

“Well, I don’t think I’ll be wanting to go anytime soon.”

Remus felt his face flush, and quickly looked down at his notes to hide it. “Unfortunately, that is quite inconvenient for me.” He sighed.

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to deal with it.” Remus ignored this, and began questioning Sirius.

“Where were you on the 31st of October?”

Sirius smirked. “With my friend James-” Well, that checked out, “-murdering six people.”

The notes slipped out of his hands.

“Did you- did you just admit to-”

“Yes, I did just admit to the murder of Walburga and Orion Black, Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, and Tom Riddle.”

Remus stared at Sirius for several moments.

“You do realize I’ll have to arrest you, right?”

“I don’t think so, Love.”

“Why not?”

“Well, it’s based on the reason. My motive, if you will.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Well, for one thing, the domestic abuse. I would know; I experienced it first hand. And, my darling cousin Narcissa is pregnant. I couldn’t have that happen to her poor child, could I?”

“That isn’t nearly enough of an excuse.”

“But you didn’t let me finish, darling.”

Remus simply raised an eyebrow.

“If you were to run an investigation on the victims,” Sirius did air quotes around that last word, “You’d find that they run a human trafficking ring. A huge one. Run by none other than Tom Riddle, or as you know him,” he paused for dramatic effect. The fucker. “Voldemort.”

Remus sucked in a breath. He knew the name. Hell, every good detective and police chief knew that name. He’d been around for nearly two decades, always evading capture. There was no way that he was just… killed.

“You seriously think that I’ll believe that? I’m not an idiot.”

“You might not right now, but you will when all the missing people start showing up.”

With that, he stood up and walked out. Remus kept looking at the door even after he was long gone.

Mary snorted. “Did you hear that? Epitome of innocence my arse.”

“I did hear it, Mary. He was talking to me.”

“He’s very pretty.”

“Mm. I mean-”

“I know exactly what you mean, Lupin.” She looked at the door for a moment, lost in thought.

“Are you going to arrest him?” She finally asked.

“No… I don’t think so. I have a feeling that he’s telling the truth.”

“Right.”

They worked for a few minutes in silence before Remus piped up again.

“That’s not the last time we see him, is it?”

“Oh no, definitely not.”

“...Good.”

[samuelroukin]

I have a gift for you (it's the equivalent of poisoned chocolates)!

It's not like Soap expects Ghost to walk up to the pub covered in gold chains or something.

Even if he wasn't the spooky bastard he is, Soap's been in long enough to know there's no one universal way soldiers finally dress up when they're let loose onto the populace, and that you can't guess from how they are in the field. It's always the ones you least expect that turn up in Hawaiian shirts open to their navel. And the ones you'd think in more layers than a nun.

So it's not the lack of jewelry that surprises him, even if he knows Ghost well enough to know he's not the type to judge a man that wears a ring or six, like Soap and Gaz on a good day. He'd have figured Ghost to be like Price, wearing not a damn bit of flash and closer to someone's Grandad and getting eyes anyway. Ghost is surprisingly low-key for such a huge fucker. Smart enough to not wear all black, just muted colors and old faded-in-the-wash hoodies that won't draw any attention at all, camouflaging his size. But, Soap notices the chain.

It's dark, and thin, not meant to be seen. Probably would have escaped notice, if Soap didn't make it a habit to notice any and all things Ghost. Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is… fucked if he knows. A pattern, certainly. Ghost always wears a chain with something on it in his civvies. Low and close to his heart, from the lump under his layers. Not just his dogtags, clearly.

He finds out what it is the hard way, some drunk starting something and needing putting down. Ghost doesn't break a sweat, but the movement's enough. It pops out. No wonder he doesn't wear it in the field.

It's a ring, but Soap doesn't know what kind. Not a woman's ring, the size and shape and design is off, but it's no regiment token either. He wants, very badly, to get his hands on it. If only he didn't think Ghost would cut them off. But it nags at him, and he's looking at the thin, secret line of the chain on the small sliver of Ghost's neck he can see between the facemask and the Henley at the pub when the glass goes flying.

Not his fault, for once, and Gaz is on him in an instant, praising his thick fucking skull. Price and Ghost blink out of his sight and then back in, meaning he's probably concussed. And at an angle; it suddenly dawns on him Gaz has put him on his back and he huffs a laugh at that that makes all their eyes go tight and worried.

Ghost leans forward, over him, and the ring slips out. Soap's eyes get pulled to it, like a hypnotist's token.

"Why do you have it if it doesn't fit you?" he says without thinking, because there's no way it does, not on those massive fucking hands. "Doesn't belong to me," Ghost barks, eyes stricken like he answered just as mindlessly, and vanishes. Soap flails, trying to chase after him and finding himself pinned by Gaz who looks half worried and half intrigued, and by Price who looks gutted.

"Fuck, fuck, I should-"

"You should fucking forget about this," Price says, steely.

"But I need to apologize-"

"If you do, he will kill you," Price answers, "just don't ever speak of it again, alright?" He almost sounds sorry. And Soap well. Soap tries.

(Yes it IS a claddagh ring because I grow ever fonder of North!Irish!Roach)

OUGH noooo 😢 i love how soap is paying so much attention to him that he can't help but notice, and then speaking up without thinking it might not be his to ask about. the pain there, from both sides, is so evident :(

[the-widow-sisters]

Ok one more since I’m on a role.

Speaking of which..

“My life is like toilet paper” for Kate and Carol, since they both take crap from a certain blonde menace in their lives 💀😂

A/N: Thank you so much for this request, girl!!! As you know probably way too well, these two combined make up my whole personality 😂💞 I literally have so many facets of my personality that are similar to them, so it's super fun to write a fic where the two sides of myself coincide, lol 😂

Plus, if y'all have seen the Marvels teaser trailer and if you're as excited as me, please do refer to the list and send some requests for Monica and Carol or Kamala and Carol 😂💞💞💞 I'm seriously so hyped 😍

Feel free to send more requests from this list here with a platonic pair listed 🥰

Word Count: 1.7k+

   “Did she have to learn how to use a sniper rifle and learn enough tinkering knowledge to put some kind of a powder grenade mod on it?” Carol complained aloud, looking at herself as she took in all of the many different colors covering her body at the moment.

   Kate sighed deeply, shaking her head. She was honestly not sure what to say but she completely agreed with the sentiment behind Carol’s declaration.

   Yelena had just ambushed them with a sniper rifle that she had somehow managed to rig so that it shot out hard little powder grenades that exploded and got some manner of random colored powders all over their victims. Carol and Kate had been walking back inside from a run that they had gone on together, and Yelena had taken her opportunity, obviously having been waiting for them to get back.

   They were her two favorite people to aggravate—or in Carol’s case, try to aggravate— so she must have been bored while they were gone since Natasha was having to spend so much time in meetings for the past several months with the discovery and the rising of new heroes.

   They had headed back so that they were at the front door of the compound at this point, trying to wrap up the last bits of removing the powder from their clothes and skin.

   “Like did they consider their responsibility to the world as our fellow human beings when they created that monster?” Carol desperately demanded as she dusted off her pretty white sweatpants and the loose white tank top, and Kate shook her head tiredly.

   “Y’know what I always say in times like these?” Kate finally asked as she dusted off bright blue powder from her sweatpants. Carol was dusting a purple mess off of her own, too, and she looked at her curiously as she spoke.

   “What’s that?” Carol asked, offering her a brief onceover as she reached out to Kate’s arm and softly brushed the powder from her bare shoulder. Kate smiled briefly, gratefulness in her eyes as she looked at the older woman.

   “My life’s like toilet paper. I’m either on a roll or taking crap from somebody,” Kate declared, and Carol let out a sharp bark of laughter, grinning widely.

   “Oh, wow, that’s good! Can I use that?” Carol questioned, a laugh in her voice, and Kate nodded, puffing up a little as she smiled back at her.

   She was proud that she had managed to draw a laugh from Carol. Granted, it was not an overly difficult task to make Carol laugh, but something about how happy and full it sounded when she actually offered a true, deep laugh was extremely gratifying.

   “Man… This better come out of my clothes or I’m taking Yelena Bavarian on a shopping trip with her paying,” Carol threatened, and Kate furrowed her brow, gazing at her uncertainly.

   “Yelena Bavarian?”

   “I don’t know, it’s a new one. Her hair’s kind of colored like Bavarian cream,” Carol pointed out with a shrug, seemingly deciding to finally straighten and leave her clothes be for a bit. Kate huffed, following her lead.

   “That’s pretty good. I’ve always just called her Yelena Banana,” Kate pointed out, and Carol snorted, surprise but also glee written on her face.

   “Oh my— that’s even better,” Carol complimented.

   They headed inside the compound, heading to the main room. Once they were there, Carol headed over to the couch somewhat tiredly, flopping down on it, and Kate followed suit, sitting down in the armchair sideways as she looped her legs over one arm and leaned back against the other.

   Carol let out a deep, exhausted sigh, and Kate looked at her, sensing she was about to speak up again.

   “So. Since we’re on the topic of our favorite little—”

   “Absolute delight of a human being?” Kate deadpanned a little, allowing the sarcasm to shine through, and Carol smirked, nodding to her as she continued her statement from where she left off.

   “That, I figured I’d ask you something if you’re up for answering,” Carol started, and Kate nodded, shrugging easily as she curiously looked at the older woman.

   “Yeah. I’m always up for a question,” Kate shrugged, shifting a little in her seat so only one leg was looped over the arm of the chair and her back was resting against the back of the chair at an angle.

   “Why do you let her push you around without actually getting back at her? You’ve had lots of opportunities, but you hardly ever actually take them,” Carol asked, tilting her head a little as she gazed back at her.

   Kate thought about it for a moment, considering what she would say next before finally speaking up with a slow nod.

   “Well, for two reasons I guess,” Kate finally stated. Carol whistled.

   “Two? Wow, I wasn’t really expecting one at all,” Carol confessed, surprise written in her features, and Kate huffed. Carol must have thought that it was one of those subconscious things that Kate had not put much time into thinking through.

   “You know me… Raising expectations one thing at a time,” Kate shrugged, laughing it off as she imagined all of the ways she had actually lowered expectations as opposed to raising them.

   As much as she loathed to admit it, she knew that there was probably a reason that Yelena thought of changing the phrase screwing up to Kate Bishop-ing. Yelena, of course, did not mean anything seriously bad by it, but it was the truth unfortunately. Kate was far too awkward for it not to be.

   “First, if I retaliate too much, I risk war and as you can tell by the sniper powder grenade rifle thing, no one stands a chance against Yelena in war unless it’s you or Natasha. And in terms of tactical advantage, only Natasha,” Kate explained, and Carol halfheartedly narrowed her eyes.

   “I take offense to that,” Carol told her, but her tone was too lazy for her to truly be serious. Kate just grinned at her, but allowed her face to fall back to something a bit more neutral as she prepared to state her next reason.

   “And it’s how she relates to me, I think,” Kate expressed, going on a more serious note, and Carol sobered a little as she looked at Kate and listened to her words.

   Carol slowly nodded, understanding in her eyes as she spoke up in reply.

   “Yeah, I can see that. That’s how she relates to me, too, I think,” Carol agreed, and Kate shook her head with a slight laugh.

   “And then she’s really sweet at the weirdest of times,” Kate pointed out, and Carol chuckled.

   “Yeah, I know. She hugged me for the first time the other day,” Carol huffed, and Kate’s eyes widened in shock.

   “Already?!” Kate cried. Carol looked at her with some confusion.

   “Well, she kind of hurt my feelings a while ago and she felt bad, I guess. I just never expected her to do that,” Carol raised her eyebrows, and Kate groaned, unable to help the smallest bit of jealousy and slight aggravation. Yelena really was a fickle creature.

   “Gosh, you know how long it took me to get a hug from her?!” Kate complained, and Carol raised an eyebrow.

   “What? When you got kidnapped a while back?” Carol laughed, obviously not really realizing that was truthfully the first time it happened. Kate nodded to her, and Carol’s smile quickly fell.

   “Seriously?!” Carol gaped at her, and Kate nodded emphatically.

   “Yeah! I mean, I think she thought I was getting between her and Natasha for a long time and when she finally realized that wasn’t what I was trying to do, we had to kind of go back to square one and build it from the ground up. But even then, she got fond of you super quick. So basically, what I’m saying is that you should feel really lucky,” Kate pointed out, grinning, and Carol shrugged, surprise in her gaze as she took it all in.

   “I kind of thought that she was always fond of you, too, though,” Carol acknowledged, and Kate furrowed her brow.

   “Why?” Kate could not help but laugh a little. “She’s always been picking on me and won’t hardly ever touch me like she does with you.”

   “I don’t know. Like you said, her picking on you is showing that she cares, and the not touching you thing is probably just the dynamic you guys have in her eyes. She touches meaningfully when it matters. The reason she touches Natasha so much is because she was raised with her and probably because she sees her as the older sister figure and wants that I guess approval from her,” Carol told her, amazingly insightful into this entire thing. Of course, as Kate remembered, Carol had been a little sister once.

   “You sound like you’re speaking from experience on that one,” Kate ventured softly, not pushing too far since she knew that was a sore spot. Carol moved her head in agreeance, a sadness slightly shining in her eyes before she moved on, trying to hide it.

   “And she probably doesn’t wrestle with you like she does with me because she knows she could hurt you, and she doesn’t want that,” Carol explained, and Kate slowly nodded as she offered Carol a onceover.

   “You really have a good handle on Yelena,” Kate commented, and Carol shrugged.

   “Well, yeah. I guess we just kind of think a lot alike,” Carol admitted, and Kate huffed, smiling gently. Carol grinned a little in response, and Kate opened her mouth to speak.

   However, just as she did, she heard a loud yell that sounded like it came from Yelena. Carol and Kate paused, turning in their seats to look in the direction of the noise. Yelena came practically leaping down the staircase, skipping steps as she tried to escape quickly. And right behind her was Natasha, aiming the powder grenade gun that she had made as she tried to land a hit on her younger sister.

   They ran past without a word, Yelena somewhere between laughing and panting as she attempted to get away and an evil look in Natasha’s eyes.

   Kate and Carol were dead silent for a few moments until they happened to make eye contact, and that was when they both burst into laughter.

   Yelena was certainly one of a kind. But they wouldn’t have it any other way.

[filopay]

NULBURNAD

[ 1 ] [ 2 ]

~ History

The wind was ice cold so high up on the mountaintops, the path snakes along through the gaps of the rocks, unsteady and loose. 

Nulburnad was cold when they arrived at the top, another reminder of their mortality.

There stood a statue, the image of a giant wolf with long teeth and three eyes looking down at the fortress below. The people of Skaeld had built it to honour their god, but knowing the god of mountains, its size did nothing to his real image.

"I need a favour." Nulburnad throws the dead rabbit they had carried onto the stoney ground in front of them.

Suddenly, the rock before them moved, it leaped into the air and landed only inches from them. Now in the form of a gigantic wolf, blaring its teeth.

"Not even polite enough to grant me a reaction, sibling." The wolf smacks his tongue, backing away disappointed at Nulburnads absence of a reaction.

"And all you bring me is a tiny rabbit." The wolf pushed the dead body with his paw, watching it flop over, "Should I eat you instead?"

"I am here on serious business."

"Why not chat with me first? I've met Arcos the other day, they said they wanted the items back they gifted you." The wolf cackles, a strange sound coming from a giant animal.

"You told them of me?" Nulburnad frowns displeased.

The wolf just walks around them, wagging his tail as he does, "I told them that you supposedly died. Thought you both were quite close to each other back then. Guess I was wrong. They were more interested in the lost treasure that you hid away. I still wonder, why did you come to me for help and not them?"

"I had to finish what I had started." Nulburnad says, serious.

The wolf flops down next to them, inching closer to the small Sovereign.

"You've made yourself quite cozy in the fortress have you not? Didn't the former Queen help in killing you? Sounds to me like you're after revenge."

Nulburnad scoffs, "I am not so petty. It's just a bad coincidence."

"Coincidence." The wolf muses, lifting his paws to draw the Sovereign closer to him, "Your heart tells a different story."

Nulburnad turns away from the wolf's penetrating gaze, his nosiness nothing they enjoy.

"I want to open mines into your mountain. Help the north support itself." 

The wolf didn't seem eager to talk about business, as he flops down on his side with a huff.

"Whatever you want to do, you always have good arguments for it. Do what you must." The wolf yawns, scratching its chin, "I'm glad you came actually. Heard alot about you stirring up trouble with that one mortal. You're rather fond of him, aren't you? Ralof, isn't it? He is one of my most loyal followers. I could tell you what he thinks of you too." The wolf smiles a toothy grin.

Nulburnad heard their heart beat faster, daring to deceive them. "I came here to discuss the mines. The Nords respect you greatly, Ulgrim. They wouldn't let me proceed without asking you first. I wouldn't be here otherwise."

"What are you afraid of? You know I can read your thoughts." Ulgrim smiles delightedly as he plants his giant head flat onto the stone, one yellow eye looking closely at the small person beside him, "Oh, he reminds you of someone. He is not so different to Ral the sun god, your former friend. Both are very positive and honest personalities. Wearing their emotions on their sleeves. How very human of them. You do have a type, don't you? I can see the resemblance now."

"Get out of my head." Nulburnad hisses, irritation in their movements as they pierce the wolf with a warning glare.

"Then you shouldn't have become my follower, you know. I always wondered what was going on in your head. Even back then when we were racing through the lands. You were so distant, so cold, but I liked your ruthlessness." The wolf then lifts their head again, placing one leg over the other, thinking, "Wasn't Ral there with us? I've barely ever seen you two apart. He was always a delight, wins everyone's hearts so easily, doesn't he? I never thought he could melt yours too. You have a lot of history together. Don't you wonder how he is doing today? If he regrets killing you or do you think he would try again?"

"There is no need to think about what is no longer important. I came to you for matters that impact the present." Nulburnad stared at the wolf, daring him to say anything else about the topic.

The wolf hummed, Nulburnad knew he would have liked to say more, but at least he knew when to stop. It seems the respect they both had for each other, had remained.

Ulgrim walks to the edge of the mountain. Below them sleeps the fortress of Skaeld restless and vulnerable. After a while Nulburnad joins him.

"There are many that disapprove of your arrival. They fear the changes that you will bring, the ones you already made. The Nords value tradition very much - threaten their beliefs and they will cut you down."

"They wouldn't be the first." Nulburnad crosses their arms in front of their chest, looking passively down onto the city, "I am not playing their parent like the former Queen had, there is no need to coddle them. The situation is getting worse, change is inevitable."

The wolf snickers. "You always loved stirring trouble, speaking words no one wants to hear. Don't make it sound like you had no other choice. You're enjoying it, I can tell. It's why Ral cut you down too, there are only so many rules one can break without angering a few."

"Let them be angry then." Nulburnad says, "Someone has to say how is it. I wouldn't want to remain ignorant either. Besides, never thought you interested in the politics of mortals."

"Despite what our siblings say, I am not a feral beast like Shlaegor." The wolf growls, "I have my reasons."

They were silent for a moment, enjoying the night air, the blackened starless night sky pressing down on them from above.

"It's not so much the mortals that worry me. Some gods have become aware of your presence." The wolf was serious now, "Uwila has always been meddlesome in human affairs. She had asked me to investigate you and give her information."

Nulburnad looks at the wolf, the one confidant they entrusted their circumstances with and the one they had asked to keep it a secret.

The wolf cackles then. "I told her to suck it!"

Nulburnad found no amusement in it. Uwila was nothing but persistent. If they had raised her interest, she would soon send someone to investigate them.

"Even the old gods seem to take an interest in you. Seems like the old days, doesn't it? You are only here for a month now and already stepping on everyone's feet." The wolf speaks, restlessness making him stand back up on his paws.

Then he gets serious, head tilting downwards to better perceive Nulburnads small form.

"What I am concerned about is their constant presence. The old gods are lingering around my domain. They never cared for it before." The wolf fletched his teeth for a moment, a nervous habit perhaps, "I can live with you stirring up trouble with the mortals, but you are starting to attract the old gods, endangering my followers. Fate had watched Ralof rather closely as of late. I fear your meeting with him was entirely made by Fate themselves. So tell me, what have you done to get the old gods so interested?"

"Fate had sent the former Queen after me before, in an attempt to stop me. I am not going to fall for the same trick twice. If Fate wants Ralof to stand in my way, I will not be moved by it. The darkness has gone out of control and I will stop it."

The wolf tilts his head. "In all our history together, I never thought you had gained the title god of ice for your personality but I am starting to believe it now. Do as you please, but I draw the line at dragging my followers into your mess. We do not want the old gods here. If you keep antagonising them, I feel forced to act."

Nulburnad almost smiles at Ulgrims threat, it meant very little to them.

"Every god had turned a blind eye to the increasing darkness. As gods, mortals swear on our protection. Who else should be responsible for the misery that has befallen mortality if not to us. Your domain is said to have the highest increase of Underfolk, that should be something you worry about and not the interest Fate has in me."

"We were doing just fine hunting those bastards." The wolf bared his teeth, "It keeps them at bay and it will keep doing so. You're just holding onto your misplaced heroism because you're afraid that Ral has been right in stopping your madness!"

"Fighting them won't help the situation." Nulburnad remained calm, "You can't kill what's already dead. Don't you see? You're just avoiding the inevitable The darkness doesn't spare gods and if you keep eating them, you'll be the next to fall. They will devour you from the inside."

"Ral had killed you for overstepping all the boundaries there are. You are doing it again!" The Wolf barks, "I protect my domain as I see fit. Your criticism is not welcome here!"

"I am doing my responsibility as a god. I promised my followers protection and I will not let them down."

"And see where that has taken you. You are no god any more, dear sibling. Your influence is limited. Give up now, before it's too late."

Ulgrim looks down at Nulburnads small form. Mortal and fragile, but they refused to believe they hold no power. They had seen this coming. Friends and siblings turning on them, it was to be expected when Fate was on their game, but something they can look past. It's not their fault to not see clearly.

Nulburnad knew that they can succeed in their goal. No matter the cost. To achieve it, they could not waver, especially not when they want it the most. Even when they have to stand alone, facing friends and foes alike. Fate was nothing but persistent, but so could they.

Ral had caught them off guard once, it won't happen again with Ralof.

History will not repeat itself. This time, Nulburnad will be prepared and they will defy Fate and cure the darkness for good.

[kitweewoos]

🖋️🖋️🖋️ + roadtrip II 💜

spice ahead :)

Instead, he gripped the wheel tight enough that his knuckles were white, and he bit his lip hard, nearly hard enough to draw blood.   “Ah, fuck,” Connor groaned, and even if he couldn’t look down for long, he took peaks while the road was relatively straight and smooth, looking at the tumble of Will’s dark red hair covering his lap. Will had let his hair grow out a bit longer than he usually did, and Connor was pretty sure it was because Will liked the way Connor carded his fingers through it, and the way he gripped it when they were in bed, yanking his head back to put him where he wanted. Will had always been a bit of a masochist, and having his hair pulled hard was right up his alley. It could be a coincidence, of course, but he doubted it.  Then, Will paused about midway down his shaft, his lips loosely wrapped around him, and Connor let out a soft breath, relief at the momentary reprieve. Except, Will glanced up at him with an impatient gleam in his eyes. Will’s words came back to him.  I want to choke on your dick as you fuck my face while you’re driving, in this car, just the two of us. 

Send me a ✒️ and a wip title/code name and I’ll write three sentences on that wip and you get the sentences

[cat-psychic]

Recently I’ve been taking a poetry class where we have to critique eachothers work, and I’ve noticed that almost every poem I’ve read has been sad. They’re all about social issues or discrimination or death or trauma. The only exceptions are poems about romantic love and desire, of which there have been two or three, but they’re still extraordinarily outclassed by the sad ones. Now love and death being the two most common subjects of poetry is a pretty well understood thing, and young adults who write poetry just being an edgy bunch is certainly part of it, but I think there’s something more going on here. 

I’ve taken enough lit classes to know that the books assigned in them do not tend to be happy ones. Anything near-contemporary you read is guaranteed to be depressing, and while a books age will sometimes let a wry, often political comedy sneak through, you’ll always be made to read it through such an analytical, often again, depressing lens, that a lot of the jokes loose their meaning. And when you write, you’re encouraged to do it in much the same way- poignant, dark, realistic pieces on the state of the world. I

 especially notice it in books centering around some sort of oppressed/minority group- in all my years of lit courses, I don’t think I ever read a book with a female protagonist where being a girl was portrayed as “fun”. And yeah, don’t get me wrong, discrimination exists and impacts people and is a HUGE PROBLEM, but at the same time I wouldn’t equate my personal experience of “being a girl” to “constant suffering” –which, if you were going off of these books only, might be the conclusion you draw. And while this is a big topic that I’m simplifying greatly, I think a persons only literary experience regarding an oppressed group (their own or others) revolving around how much being a part of that group SUCKS is a reductive and plain out depressing concept. And since those are the stories that are held aloft, it forces writers belonging to those groups to write stories about the oppression they’ve faced rather than literally any other topic if they want their stories to be promoted and seen. And this extends out of professional spheres back to students. There’s been some recent discussions of how the college application essays encourage students to write about and thus revisit their trauma, turning trying to get a  college education into some sort of sadness contest. And while I don’t think whats happening in my poetry class is anything quite that sinister, I think at the end of the day it’s rooted in the same problem: The subconcious idea that stories about darkness are inherently more valuable.

And that’s something I take personal problem with. I think it’s based around the idea that “dark” somehow equals “more realistic”, which is untrue. While life can be cruel and dark and serious, life can also be joyous and thrilling and just plain out stupid. And those silly fun moments are just as important as the dark ones! Hell, maybe even more so! There is innate beauty in random chance, fun surprises, friendship and love. Life is a constant see-sawing between the happy and sad. Even during very happy times, watching a sad movie can make you cry. At your most depressed, you’ll still ocassionally find yourself laughing at somebody elses dumb joke. There is a constant cycle of gain and loss. One can’t exist without the other, and that in and of itself is poetry! 

Saying one feeling is more important than the other is about as silly as saying red is more important than blue. Hell, beyond joy and sadness, look at confusion, anger, friendship, satisfaction, embarrassment, sleepyness, deja vu, weird coincidences, dancing, your first crush, injokes, brainfreeze, an obsession with dinosaurs, whatever! Yes, write tragic, edgy, or serious stuff too when you want to. Heaven knows I do. But don’t put yourself in a box. Meaning can be found in strange places, and one of the joys of poetry is reading something that you would never have guessed hits as hard as it does. And if something hits you, no matter how weird, you can bet somehow, somewhere in the world, it’ll connect to someone else in the same way.

Don’t give a shit if people say what you feel doesn’t matter, be stupid, have fun, and write!

[iyeonjuni]

bus 304 // chapter 18: cutie

prev / masterlist / next

word count: 0.7k

-

“kang taehyun, choi beomgyu.” y/n holds onto both of her friends' wrists as he pulls them out of the classroom, leaving the three theatre boys confused.

“oh god taehyun, she pulled out the full name. we are doomed.” beomgyu snickers slightly before being interrupted by a light slap on the shoulder.

“that’s the pretty boy i was talking about!” y/n peeks back into the classroom and somehow as if kai noticed, he is looking straight at her with a smile on his face, y/n instantly went back to face her friends.

“wait you mean- the PRETTY BOY?” beomgyu gasps as he copied the same action as y/n, staring back into the classroom, but is then pulled by y/n.

“stop making it obvious! but yes, that’s him. oh my god he is so pretty…” y/n sighs.

“my goodness-” taehyun shakes his head but peeks in the classroom to get a good look at the proclaimed pretty boy, but is then interrupted by the voices in the room.

“can we start now? sorry, i have a thing in about a few hours.” yeonjun speaks up.

“sorry! we’ll start now!” y/n raises her voice as she enters the classroom.

-

feeling slightly nervous at the constant stares kai has been making, y/n wipes her sweaty palms against her uniform as she continues to take pictures of the boys in different angles. soon satisfied with the material she has, she placed her camera back into her bag.

“okay, i think i have enough material for the day. thank you guys so much for volunteering, it means a lot.” y/n smiles as she approached the new faces she had seen today.

“it’s no problem! well, i have to head out now so i’ll see you maybe?” yeonjun smiles as he picks up his bag before leaving the room.

“he’s always so busy with his part time jobs.” soobin sighs, “wish he would let it loose a little.” he looked over to kai.

kai nodded before turning his head back to you with a smile, “can i talk to you for a second?”

“h-huh, me?” y/n couldn’t seem to face the boy in front of her.

gosh why is he so good looking.

“yes who else!” kai held onto her hand and gave her a smile once again. “let’s go.”

-

“what do you want to talk about?” y/n looks onto the ground.

“look at me, i don’t bite. i just wanted to say… the drawings are very pretty.” kai, not giving up now, trying his very best to make y/n look at him.

y/n’s eyes widened, did she perhaps get caught? she looked up at him and he’s laughing now and y/n couldn’t believe her ears.

his laugh is pretty as well.

“sorry- i wasn’t really sleeping yesterday. so i did see you.” kai looked at her, though he seemed calm, his heart was beating out of his chest.

“and they were beautiful. i loved every single one of them” kai reassured her, giving her a light pat on the top of her head.

y/n looks up now, and although she could feel her ears burning and her heart beat rising she couldn’t help but smile at the comment and the gesture.

“i’m so glad.” she smiled.

“and i’d like for you to continue. who knows, on most days i do fall asleep and am unaware.” he laughs and y/n joins in too.

“i’ll do that, but i could draw you while you're not fast asleep too.” y/n nods, followed by laugh.

kai laughs along, then scratches the back of his neck, opening his mouth but feeling slightly hesitant. however, his eyes meet y/n's and with an exhale he speaks. “also there is something else i need to tell you.”

y/n looks up, heart beat racing, slightly afraid of what kai was going to tell her.

“it’s nice to finally meet you, i’m hueningkai.” he smiles.

“you-” y/n couldn’t finish her sentence as she covered her mouth in shock.

“yeah...i wrote my number on your cast. it was really all a coincidence! who knew we were each others’ secret admirers...” kai is now looking at the floor, completely opposite to when he confronted her earlier. "...besides, i'm glad it turned out that way too."

y/n stood still, processing the amount of information that had just revealed in front of her and she couldn’t help but smile, not only did she not have to hide from the boy she was drawing, the person who supposedly found her cute...was in fact the same person.

suddenly, with a rush of confidence y/n pats the top of his head, “well it’s a bit late but, i find you cute too.”

kai looks up with the brightest smile he’s ever given y/n.

"cutie." he places his hand on top of the hand that was on his head, slowly intertwining her fingers against his.

-

taglist [open]: @txitzy @fairybinie @luvrbin @berrychyuu @odxrilove @bubblejunnies @xysthe @tinyyblue @beomgyuanti @groovybiscuitdiplomatpeach @mellowhumandonkeyprune @erosoobin @snowfalltxt @sulkii @echo-of-a-writer @day6andetcetera @msxflower @odetoyeonjun @pr0dbeomgyu @prettygirlchaee @beomsun @gorechoi @purplelady85 @liarainzz @you-njinhwang @maichiverse @paralumanniluna @roroswitherose @arminandjeanandannieandhange @bigtittietoji @multi4lifer @blank-velvet @ifwtyun @grassbutneo @windex-princess-ami @love-hyuka

[arvandus]

Icarus (Overhaul x F!Reader)

Ah yes, once again so late on this. This one gave me grief because the characters kept deviating from what I had originally planned. >.< But I worked through it, and here we are.

This is for the BNHarem's “On The Job” Collab for May, which you can find here.

Also, don’t judge my super simple title headings for my fics 😂 I always do these late at night when I should be asleep, so generic background with fancy text is the best I got to offer.

Trigger Warnings: 18+ ONLY!  1 instance of aggression/abuse (hair grabbing/pulling - nonsexual), unprotected sex (fun in fiction, dumb IRL), mutual masturbation, overstimulation, bondage via quirk abuse, degradation...

I think that about covers it.  Once again, I’m terrible at TWs so let me know if I missed anything or if anything is inaccurate. 😬 I just kinda write what I want and don’t really think about the labels when I’m doing it.

Pairing: Overhaul x F!Reader

Word Count: 8281

You hadn’t meant to get caught.  Really, you weren’t even sure what had possessed you to do it in the first place. Desperation? Horniness? Stupidity?

 All of the above?

 All you knew was that it was a poor decision brought forth by the gradual culmination of a single annoying, unavoidable fact: you were disgustingly, shamefully, sinfully attracted to Kai Chisaki.

You weren’t exactly sure how or when it started. There was no “aha” moment, no “big bang” of desire.  Instead, it was subtle, gradually coating your unsuspecting mind like layers of sediment. A shiver down your spine when he spoke your name.  The quickening of your pulse at the briefest of eye contact. And the ever-growing presence of intrusive, curious thoughts.

 Like his hands.  You always noticed them, the white of his gloves drawing your attention like a beacon whenever he was within eyesight.  They were dangerous hands, deadly weapons that you’d seen in action firsthand.  They were a thing to be feared and avoided.  But some strange part of you couldn’t help but wonder... what did they feel like?  You imagined they’d be soft and perfectly manicured, oddly delicate for such a violent man; gentle hands packed with destructive power.

 Or his lips.  They were always covered by his mask.  You never, ever saw him without it.  You imagined what your name would look like on them as he spoke, how they’d feel on your skin.  Would his lips also be soft? How about his kisses? Would they be cautious and controlled, or rough and hungry?

 It didn’t help that he was, in his own way, very attractive.  Just like how his dangerous hands were hidden within innocent white gloves, he was the devil hidden behind a pretty face. A sharp, beautiful jawline. Smooth porcelain skin. A crown of auburn red hair, closely cropped, but still long enough to run fingers through.

 You bet that part of him was soft too.

 The one part of him that wasn’t soft were his eyes.  They were beautiful, certainly… as gold as Heaven’s gates and framed in long, perfect lashes.  But they lacked the warmth of Heaven.  Instead, they spoke of cold arrogance. And if you stared into them long enough, you could see a barely contained disgust lurking beneath their haughty exterior.

 The disgust didn’t bother you, not anymore.  Everyone disgusted Chisaki, and everyone in the Shie Hassaikai knew it. He even made his closest confidants, some he’d known since childhood, wear masks so he wouldn’t share the same air with them.  

 He had you wear a mask too, of course. Simple and white, it covered only your lower face, much like his own.  That much you were grateful for, considering some of the masks you’d seen others wearing.  Your only explanation for the slightly less coverage was that your secretarial position made you a frequent point of contact for those outside of the organization.  You handled incoming calls, visitors, and scheduled meetings between Chisaki and his affiliates.  No doubt he wanted to ensure you were making a good impression while still operating within his mysophobic requirements.

 First impressions were everything to Kai.  Even more so since he took the Boss’s place under dubious circumstances. Still, his long-held reputation for extremist thinking and violence preceded him, and not everyone was in support of his unexpected promotion.  As a result, many people within the organization parted ways following Chisaki’s rise to power... and soon after they mysteriously went missing, never to be heard from or located again.  You had no doubt that it was Chisaki tying up loose ends by sealing loose lips.  After all, they say the mouth is the source of disaster.  And Chisaki valued confidentiality above all else.

 The message he sent was clear: adapt or die.  When given such colorful options, the choice on whether to go or stay became a simple one.

 So, you adapted.  As long as you followed orders, kept your eyes down and your mouth shut, you were safe. After all, it was better to be the right hand of the devil than to be in his path.  The only person you really had to fear was Chisaki himself, and you knew him well enough by now to know how to stay on his good side.

 And all in all, it really wasn’t all that bad.  Sure, you had to orchestrate the occasional clean-up when he disposed of someone who displeased him.  But that wasn’t much different than what you’d dealt with when you worked for the Boss, either.  Sure, the aftermath was messier and it happened far more often.  But violence was violence, and when you worked with the Yakuza long enough, you got used to it.  And despite the odd working conditions and ever-present undertone of danger, you remained good at your job. As such, Chisaki brooked no complaint. He tolerated you, and you tolerated him. Interactions were brief, words exchanged were polite and respectful even though they lacked warmth.  But it was just a job, right?  You didn’t need warmth.

 So why did you feel so dissatisfied?  Why did you constantly feel that something was missing, a longing you couldn’t entirely describe?

 The need only ever waned when Chisaki was in your presence, whether it was to discuss upcoming meetings or simply passing by your desk to get to his office. The dissatisfaction would melt away into a warmth that extended deep into your fingertips whenever the cold-hearted man bothered to look you in the eyes. And when he wasn’t looking at you? It was like being thrown into a winter blizzard, the aching cold returning to pull the corners of your mouth down into a silent frown.

 You craved his attention.  It was shameful and pathetic and you could only imagine the scorn he’d give you if he knew, but you didn’t care.  To be graced with the attention of a man who cared for no one brought a different kind of satisfaction.  The rare treats of attention Chisaki did grant you, whether intended or not, scratched an itch that only he could scratch.

 As time passed, the intrusive thoughts became more frequent, evolving from odd curiosities to shameless lust.  They began to occupy your dreams, forcing you awake with a hot ache between your legs. That was when you really began to realize how in deep you were.  It wasn’t just a simple “attraction.”  You wanted him.  At first you tried to deny and ignore, suppress and excuse.  After all, this was Overhaul.  Wanting him was like wanting the sun in your hand, and just as dangerous. Apparently though, it made little difference to your hormone-addled brain.  It didn’t help that the secretive, forbidden thoughts brought their own special addictive flavor of the taboo.  

 You began to act different in front of him.  Nothing too obvious, of course.  After all, you knew Chisaki wasn’t the type to indulge in desperate women. To be honest, you weren’t even sure Chisaki indulged in women at all.  All you did know was that whenever women tried to gain his favor through flirtation, Chisaki quickly and harshly shut it down.

 So, it was little things... the extra second to release a paper from your grip after he’d grabbed it, the lingering of a glance.  You didn’t so much change the style of your attire – skirts and blouses were already the norm for your position – but you changed the colors. A blouse that matched the purple feathery softness of his jacket, golden jewelry that matched his eyes.  Little messages waiting in secret to be picked up, yet subtle enough that they could be excused as nothing more than coincidence. It was risky, but the thrill of the game gave you an outlet for your roiling feelings.  In the end though, it made no difference.  There was nothing about you that seemed important enough to turn Chisaki’s head more than was professionally necessary.

 Which is where the state of things were when you found yourself alone in his office one evening. You had thought he was still working at the time. You’d stepped away to shred some incriminating documents and burn the scraps in the kiln outside.  It was your last task for the day, so you’d entered Chisaki’s office to announce your departure for the evening.  Except when you entered, the space was empty, with all traces of him gone.  No papers remained on his desk.  His gloves and plague mask were gone.  With an annoyed huff you had stood there, bothered that you’d missed him.

 Quietly, you walked to his desk, and gently caressed the mahogany wood.  It was immaculate of course, free of dirt and fingerprints.  You knew it would be because he cleaned his space every evening before he left, and you cleaned it every morning before he arrived.

 You sighed as you retrieved the paper towels and cleaning solution.  No harm in giving it a second scrub to save yourself some time tomorrow morning. It wasn’t like anyone would be foolish enough to enter this space without Chisaki present anyway.

 You should have just left it at that.  But as you walked around his desk to wipe the surface with the damp towel, your bare legs just below your skirt bumped his chair. Soft leather, still warm from where he had sat, greeted your exposed skin.

 That should have been your first clue.

 But your mental alarms never sounded.  Instead, you figured you had just missed him.

 You should have just left, but you didn’t. The warmth on the chair was enticing you. He was gone, right?  Left for the evening.  What harm could it do to indulge just a little bit?  With your heart pounding with excitement, you carefully sat down in the warm leather. Immediately the scent of Chisaki’s body wash and clean clothes cradled you.

 That should have been your second clue.

 But you were already too wrapped up in your enjoyment.  You relished in the sensations, leaning back as you closed your eyes.  It was the closest you’d ever felt to him, as if his very presence was there with you. Your desire purred deep in your gut at receiving its first nibble of satisfaction.  If you closed your eyes, you could pretend he was there, holding you.

 Your kept your eyes closed as your imagination began to take root like weeds in your mind, making your skin feel hot.  Your fingers grazed the inside of your thigh, dipping beneath your skirt while your heart pounded.  What if those were his fingers?  The vision combined with the sensations of touch and smell were delicious, and you wanted more.  You dragged the pads of your fingertips up even higher, your arm starting to push your skirt up with it.  Your legs parted easily, as you let out a shaky breath.

 You shouldn’t be doing this.  Not here of all places.  But there was something so sinfully satisfying about it, the danger only heightening the sensations.  After all, the reward was only as great as the risk it took to earn it.  And this was the highest risk you could take, short of literally throwing yourself at him.  Besides, it wasn’t like your fantasies were ever going to come true. Maybe satisfying yourself - right here, right now – would be enough to finally give you the peace of mind you needed.

 And dear God, did you need it.  You could already feel the heat growing in your loins, the moisture dampening your panties.  Your fingers finally brushed against the warm cotton fabric covering your sex and you let out a soft gasp.

 What Chisaki didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.  He was gone, right?  And you were going to clean up any traces of your little visit before you left.  He’d be none the wiser.

 Your fingers slipped beneath your underwear to meet the hot, slick flesh of your folds, your clit already plump and ready with arousal. You knew it wouldn’t take you long to cum, but you wanted to enjoy this, to savor it as the only opportunity you’d get.  You certainly weren’t going to do this again.

 So, you teased yourself, fingertips softly dragging slow circles around your entrance before dipping in.  A shaky moan left your lips, the quickening of your breaths matching the racing of your heart.  In and out you dragged your fingers, relishing in your sleek, sensitive walls, occasionally breaking your rhythm to spread your juices over your swollen labia. You revisited your clit and stifled your moan with a bite of your lip as you began to slowly massage it with practiced skill.  It felt so fucking good.  The scent of yourself mingled with the scent of Chisaki, and you spread your legs wider, leaning back farther into the seat.  You could feel the surge beginning to swell, and you knew it would be soon. Vivid fantasies danced on the inside of your eyelids, and you were fully enthralled, fingers skimming fast circles over your swollen bud as your other hand began to massage your breast through your blouse.

 “Fuuuuuckk....Kai....” You moaned.

 “What do you think you’re doing?”

 The familiar voice made you jump so hard, you nearly fell out of the chair as your eyes flew wide open.

 There was Kai Chisaki, staring down at you from across the desk – his desk. And there were you, sitting in his chair, spread eagle.

 Your breath was knocked out of you and you felt light-headed with panic.  You caught sight of the shoji screen behind him, wide open to the evening air.

 FUCK. Of course.  You forgot to check outside.  He must have stepped out for some fresh air before returning to his office.

 Shit. Shit, shit, shit.  You hadn’t heard him enter.  How long had he been standing there??

 “I asked you a question.” The man seethed through his plague mask.  His gloved hands were clenched into angry fists, and his eyes... eyes that you’d always craved to see you... well, they saw you now, and you were terrified.

 Immediately, you closed your legs and stood up from his chair. Your mouth babbled soundlessly before your voice finally came, tight and small.

 “I’m sorry.  I’m so so sorry.”

 “I didn’t ask for an apology.” He hissed.

 “I know, I’m sorry.” You blubbered.

 “Come. Here.” Chisaki demanded.

 You obeyed, struggling to adjust your skirt as you approached him from around his desk.

 “I didn’t tell you to touch your clothes.” His tone was quiet and constrained yet sharp as a razor’s edge, each word uttered with meticulous precision.

 You stared at him in shock as you slowly removed your hands from your rumpled clothing.  His eyes raked over you, top to bottom, and left you feeling... exposed.

 “Look at you...” he grumbled.  “Disgusting.”

 His mask was unnerving, blocking the lower half of his face and keeping you from being able to fully read his facial expression.  His gold eyes were threatening – predatory like a wolf.

 He was going to kill you.  You knew it was coming. He’d killed others for far less.  But you weren’t ready for it.  You didn’t want to die.

 You dropped to your knees and bowed low in front of him, shrinking yourself to fit beneath his harsh glare.  “Please, Mr. Chisaki-“

 “Overhaul.”

 “Overhaul!” you corrected, as you bowed your head lower to the ground. “Please forgive me.  I meant no disrespect.”

 “No disrespect?” he sneered.  “You debase yourself in my seat, my place of business, and claim no disrespect??”

 His left hand reached forward at lightning speed and grabbed you by your hair, forcing your head back until you were looking him straight up at him.  You winced against his harsh hold on you, yet clenched your teeth in an effort to keep your silence.  He glared down at you as his next words came out through what you could clearly hear as clenched teeth.  

 “Clean it up.”

 With that, he shoved you away from him. On shaking, clumsy legs you pushed yourself to your feet and made your way back to his desk, your skin hot with shame and your ears ringing.  

 You did as he commanded, grabbing the cleaning solution and spraying his seat before carefully, meticulously, wiping every inch of the rich leather.  Minutes passed in silence as you made sure that no spot went unnoticed, even ensuring that the table was once again cleaned as well. By the time you had finished, Kai’s temper seemed to have dwindled to a simmering flame.  His hands were no longer clenched in fists at his sides. Instead, they were tucked deep into his pockets as he supervised you.  It did little to comfort you though... you knew that Chisaki’s reflexes were faster than you could dodge.  He’d catch you before you even reached the door.

 Not that you’d try to.  You knew better.

 When the chair was finally pristine, you disposed of the last of the soiled paper towels in the wastebin and returned the cleaning solution to its home. The task was done, but you didn’t stop. You picked up the trash can with the intent of disposing of its contents; you knew Chisaki wouldn’t want it sitting in his office.  

 It was all to buy you time. Time to figure out what to say or what do to convince Chisaki to spare your life.  But you didn’t even make it to the door before Chisaki’s voice halted your retreat.

 “Where do you think you’re going?”

 “I... I was just...” you stammered.

 “I didn’t give you permission to leave.”

 You swallowed and set down the trashcan.  He approached you slowly, until he was a mere few inches from you. He was so close that you could smell his cleanliness and see the pupils of his eyes dilate as he stared at you.  Slowly, he grabbed the mask that was covering your mouth and nose and removed it from your head.  You stopped breathing.

 There was something... electric in the air.  You could feel it on your skin, making your hairs stand on end and your flesh tighten with goosebumps.  His eyes peered at you intently, taking in every subtlety of your face.  Your lips, your eyes, your skin... and beneath the weight of his stare, you could feel the fear start to transform, replaced by something else entirely.  Something familiar that’d been plaguing you for months, lighting your veins with fire and threatening to incinerate you if it wasn’t released.  After all, part of his allure was the danger. And he hadn’t killed you yet, which meant... something.

 Chisaki’s gaze began to wander beyond just your face, taking in your still rumpled clothes.  The top couple buttons of your blouse were undone, exposing the skin of your neck and the edges of your bra.  Your skirt was still askew, and although he couldn’t see it, you became acutely aware of your still-damp underwear trapped between your folds from when you had hastily closed your legs earlier.  You stared back at him, waiting for him to do something, say something.

 And that’s when you noticed it... a faint flush across his pale cheeks, peaking out from beneath his mask. His chest was rising and falling with each breath, and it was as if he were contemplating something, silently weighing a decision in his closed-off mind.

 A strange bubbling sensation began to build within your chest, foreign and oddly out of place.

 Hope.

 Finally, Chisaki spoke, his voice unusually calm considering the trouble you were in.  “Follow me.”

 Not one to disobey him, you did as he requested as he made his way over to his desk and sat down in his chair.  Then, with an open hand, he gestured at his desk.

 “Sit.”

 Confusion.

 “W-What??” you stuttered.

 “I said sit.” He replied.

 You did as Chisaki commanded, fitting yourself between his legs and his desk before hopping up slightly onto the surface you’d just cleaned. You were right in front of him now, your hands in your lap and your ankles crossed as you realized just how perfect this arrangement was for him to see directly up your skirt.  You worried your lip between your teeth as you watched him assess you.  His elbow was resting on the armrest of his chair, his fingers supporting his face along the jawline as he stared at you with his head cocked at an angle. If it were any other situation, you’d say he looked almost bored... but the glint in his eyes spoke of something else entirely.

 “Continue.” He stated.

 “What? What do you mean?” you asked.

 His eyes stared at you knowingly.  “You didn’t get to cum, did you?”  You shook your head, stunned at his words.  “Continue.” He repeated.

 “Right here?”

 “Where else?  It was good enough for you earlier.”  His tone dropped slightly as his eyes narrowed.  “Continue.”

 Your heart pounded in your ears as you uncrossed your ankles, and with shaky hands began to trace your fingers up your thighs just as you had done before. Except this time, the experience was entirely different. Instead of closing your eyes like before, you kept them open to stare at your observer, watching for his reaction.  So many times you’d fantasized about this... about his eyes being on you and only you... and you weren’t going to miss a moment of it.

 With your eyes locked on each other, you inched your way up to the space between your thighs, your legs parting to grant you access.  Chisaki didn’t look down.  Not right away, at least.  Instead, he continued to watch your face, his body still and silent.  With the heat of his gaze on you, you finally reached your center where your warmth greeted you.  It was still slick from earlier, your fingers sliding easily along your labia as you began to tease yourself for the second time that evening.  You let out slow, shaky breaths as your fingers rubbed slow, lazy circles over your glossy lips.  

 Chisaki still didn’t break his gaze from your eyes, and a part of you wanted him to.  You wanted him to acknowledge what you were offering him and know that he liked it. A small, devious smirk found itself on your lips as you pulled your fingers away from your pussy to show him the evidence of your arousal stretched across your fingers.  It caught his attention just briefly, eyes flicking to your display, before he watched you lick the glistening strands from your fingertips, the soft sounds of your sucking filling the empty, quiet room.

 Chisaki’s eyes narrowed, and the smirk on your face widened.  Soon your fingers were back between your legs, massaging your clit again as your skin began to feel flush with heat.  Round and round the pads of your fingers went, with painstaking slowness that you drew out just for him.  You wanted to show him how good his presence made you feel.  You wanted him to see how badly you wanted him.  Your lips became more swollen, your clit more sensitive. Already you could start to feel the tension build.  It was almost too easy, your body ready to surrender at the drop of a hat.  But you weren’t going to let it happen, not yet at least.  You wanted to draw this out, to savor it in case it never happened again.

 With half-lidded eyes you stared at him as you parted you folds for him, fully exposing yourself. For the first time, his eyes drifted from your face to stare directly at your desire for him – your tight hole open and waiting, every inch of your swollen cunt drenched in glistening arousal.  Chisaki was captivated and you felt your blood surge.  You needed more. With your fingers still spreading yourself open, you dipped your middle digit into your tight heat.   Pleasure bloomed within you and a soft groan vibrated from the back of your throat. With each draw of your fingers, your breaths quickened, your back arching as the tension began to build.

 You struggled to keep your eyes open, to watch Chisaki as you brought yourself closer to orgasm, but it became increasingly difficult. You were single-focused now, chasing your much-needed release with each plunge of your finger into your soft depths.  Your body accommodated it welcomingly, and so you added a second, once again relishing in the renewed stretch that caressed your inner walls. The faster you pumped your fingers, the better it felt until your nerves were singing that familiar hum.  You flowed seamlessly into the final phase, your wet fingers leaving your entrance in favor of rubbing hard, fast circles over your clit.  The finish line was in sight now as your body sprinted with tense, aching muscles and breathy moans.

 You came with a gasp, back arching and thighs twitching as you rode out your orgasm. As you neared the end of it, you dipped your fingers in one last time as your walls gave one last final spasm of pleasure.  Gradually the wave of your euphoria calmed, returning to the gentle, lapping waters of desire that still moved within you to the rhythm of your heartbeat.

 You opened your eyes to see Chisaki still staring at you silently, his eyes once again locked onto yours. The flush across his cheeks was very much apparent now, yet his posture remained unmoved. Still, out of curiosity, you dared a quick glance down to his lap to see his hand strategically placed over the bulge in his pants.  Was he trying to hide it?  Because he was failing.  Or was he stroking himself through his clothes when you weren’t looking?

 “Again.” He ordered.

 Your eyes bulged.  “Again?”

 He didn’t bother to answer, instead waiting silently.  You were a bird trapped in the golden cage of his eyes as your mind struggled to recover enough from the hazy aftereffects of your orgasm to think straight.  He wanted you to do it again?

 At first you were hesitant. You knew your body was still sensitive from what had just transpired.  But then again… your eyes stared at Chisaki’s crotch again as he waited for you.  No doubt he saw you staring, yet he did nothing, said nothing.  It almost felt like an invitation… or a dare.  Do it again and see what happens.

 Fuck. You’d already gotten under his skin... might as well see how deep you could go.

 Between your orgasm only moments before and the juices still coating your pussy, the sensations of your touch at first felt almost... numb.  Except for your clit.  That part was still sensitive, making your muscles twitch and your breath hitch in your throat as you moved your fingers over it experimentally. You kept your touch gentle at first, careful to give your body time to respond as you reawakened the lust that still lurked in your core.  With dark eyes you began to stroke yourself for him again, pulling soft pleasurable moans from your gently parted lips.  It was definitely more intense this time, and you could already tell that this next orgasm would surpass the one before it.  Still, you drew it out as you watched Chisaki.  Or, more specifically, watched his free hand.

 It didn’t take long... you watched his fingers grip around his hard-on through his pants, his hand slowly moving up and down his restricted length.  You bit your lip at the sight and immediately felt a generous wave of hot arousal bloom between your legs, your nipples hardening achingly.  It wasn’t enough to capsize you into ecstasy, but it certainly pulled a needy whimper from your lips.  

 You dipped your fingers into yourself, feeling your walls flutter as you imagined what it would feel like to have Chisaki inside of you.  With each curl of your fingers the heat grew, like the sun reaching its zenith.  You wanted it.  You wanted to cum so badly.  But you wanted to see him even more.  So, you neglected your puffy clit in favor of unbuttoning your blouse just enough to grant you access to your sensitive breasts.  You pushed aside the cup of your bra to free the plump flesh, the bud at its center tightly puckered.  With deft fingers you massaged the soft skin before rolling the nipple slowly between your fingers, pulling more soft gasps and gentle hums from your lips.  The more you groaned and teased yourself, the more Chisaki stroked himself as he watched you, his eyes glowing with hunger.

 It wasn’t until you began to lose yourself, your eyes beginning to drift closed as you moaned and whined to the ebb and flow of your pleasure, that your patience was finally rewarded.

 You could hear it over the sounds of your lewdity – the ‘click click click’ of a zipper being pulled down.  You opened your eyes, not even attempting to hide your eagerness, as Chisaki freed his cock from his pants.

 It was beautiful just like the rest of him; long with a slight curve, its tip red and shining with precum.  Veins stood out in relief, trailing his length like vines, thick and beautiful. You swallowed at the sight of it, desperately wanting to know what it would feel like to have that in you.

 You hadn’t realized your own movements had frozen until Chisaki’s smooth voice cut through your thoughts.

 “I didn’t tell you to stop.” He said, as cool and professional as ever as if he didn’t currently sit before you with his dick in his hand.  

 He was gloating, you knew it... your stunned silence at the sight of his cock stroked his ego just as much as you touching yourself for him did. And you knew that, above all else, Chisaki loved to have his ego stroked.

 “Y-yes Mr. Chisaki...” you whispered, before your fingers began moving again.

 You continued to stroke and play, penetrate and rub as you watched him take his long cock in his hand and begin long, steady strokes.  Even now, he still kept his gloves on, and somehow that made his every move even hotter.  He was no longer propping his face up with his other hand.  Now, he was sitting up straight, eyes on your needy cunt as you put on your show for him.  You could see it, the tension in his temple that came and went, hear the ragged, quick draws of his breaths through his mask.  Your own arousal grew in response, egged on by him searching for his own sweet relief at the lewd sight of you.  It blossomed like a watered seed as you drank in the man in front of you – his hand pumping, precum dripping.

 It was the push your sensitive body needed.  You came surprisingly fast, your orgasm crashing over your body with greater intensity than the first.  Moans and gasps ripped from your throat as your body spasmed, and you made no effort to quell your cries, too consumed by your own pleasure.  With eyes squeezed shut, your hips rocked as you grinded yourself against your hand, your entire body singing in unbridled bliss.

 You were given no respite.  As soon as the pleasure eased just enough for your hips to still, Chisaki spoke.

 “Again.”

 Your eyes, still closed, flew open to look at him with incredulity.  You weren’t even recovered yet, your cunt still twitching with the aftershocks of pleasure. You knew that touching yourself without some sort of break was going to lead you down a jagged, torturous road of overstimulation.  It made your legs start to close up instinctually in denial.

 Your mouth moved silently before you pushed the words out.  “B-But... I can’t....”

 Chisaki’s eyes narrowed, his brows lowering... and along the edge of his mask, you could see his cheeks lift slightly.  He was smirking at you. Cruelly.  

 “You can, and you will.” He said.  A wave of his fingers told you to reopen your legs for him, and you did, slowly, as if you were a puppet on strings.  “Again.” He repeated.

 Chisaki took a moment to remove the glove from his stroking hand before giving his cock a couple more languid strokes.  You stared at the exposed skin in awe.  It was everything you imagined it’d be... pale, smooth, nails clean and perfectly trimmed.  Between his hard cock and his ungloved hand, you stared in shameless longing as an excited chill coursed down your spine.  Maybe… maybe if you were good…

 You swallowed the dryness in your throat and returned your fingers to your core, flinching as you brushed against your sore, overstimulated clit.  Chisaki returned to pleasuring himself as you performed for him, his hand pumping steadily.  Watching him masturbate to you was delicious.  He didn’t rush, instead opting to taking his time, his hand moving smoothly from base to tip, occasionally pausing to run his precum over the head, the shine glinting in the light.  You subconsciously licked your lips, wondering what it would taste like. Would you lick it from his tip? Or his finger?  Maybe both?

 You matched your pace with his, letting his own strokes guide your hand.  The synchrony made your pussy ache more than ever, even as your body screamed for freedom – a break from the constant wave of stimulation that you were subjecting yourself to.  It made you feel closer to him, more connected - as if he were a part of your pleasure without actually touching you.

 But dear God, you desperately you wanted him to touch you.

 He continued his strokes, slow and easy.  Whether it was for him or for you, you weren’t sure... you weren’t even sure if he was aware that you were pacing yourself with him.  His speed gradually quickened, the muscles of his forearms tensed and twitching as he pumped his hard cock with growing fervor. It was the hottest thing you’d ever seen, his eyes starting to roll back in his head as he began to lose himself to the pleasure, legs twitching slightly as he came close... Your heart pounded with excited anticipation as you dipped your fingers into your core, feeling your walls flutter with need.  It was happening... he was going to cum...

 But he never did.  Instead, his pace began to slow as his eyes refocused on you. That was when you realized….

 Chisaki wasn’t trying to cum yet… he was edging himself.

 Maybe he was waiting for you.  Or maybe he had his own agenda.  But either way, it was clear to you that he was delaying his orgasm.

 The hypocrite.

 Still, you wanted to please him. You wanted to give him want he wanted, because then maybe he could give you what you really wanted.  But no matter how hard you tried, no matter how fucking hot the entire situation was, your own orgasm evaded you.  

 It was more than just the repeated orgasms and overstimulation.  The real issue was that your fingers no longer satisfied. Not after seeing what he had to offer, and certainly not after seeing how horny you made him.  You wanted him to touch you, to put his hands on you, to feel his cock in you... A frustrated whine escaped your lips as you felt your resolve break.

 “Please, Mr. Chisaki...” you begged.  Chisaki’s eyes left your open pussy to lock with yours.  Their golden depths burned holes into you, and you licked your lips under the heat of his stare. “Please touch me...”

 Chisaki froze mid-stroke.  “Touch you?” He said it as if the idea repulsed him, yet his eyes betrayed him as he looked back down between your open legs.

 “Please,” You begged.  “Don’t you want to?”

 His brow was deeply furrowed, and you knew he was having his internal debate, just as he’d had before.  After all, what you were asking was no small order.  You knew how he felt about touch.  No doubt he would have already been balls deep in you had it not been an issue for him.

 But that was why you begged. And pleaded.  And groveled.  Anything to make him set aside his golden rule, even if just for one night.

 “Please...” you whined one last time.  “I’ll do anything.  I need you, Kai...”

 Something about you using his given name did something.  His eyes widened slightly, his flush reaching down to his exposed neck.  Then his eyes narrowed, as he stood from his seat.  You watched with a mix of excitement and trepidation as he carefully removed his jacket and loosened his white tie.  He towered over you, his stare pinning you somewhere between his contempt and his hunger as he undid the cuffs of his black shirt and rolled up his sleeves to the elbows. It made your pussy throb and your heart pound as you stared back at him, completely vulnerable.  He stepped forward slightly, filling the space between your legs with his presence.  Even just the graze of his pants against the inside of your knee was enough to set off fireworks on your skin, causing your breath to hitch in your throat.  His cock was still out and hard, mere inches from your tight, needy cunt, and it took every ounce of willpower not to scoot down and close the gap between you.

 You waited.

 “Touch you...” he muttered through his mask, his voice low.

 Chisaki’s eyes raked over you, taking in every inch of you.  Your trembling, parted lips and large pupils; your exposed breast with its perky, hard nipple; your swollen and glossy cunt framed in ruined underwear that was carelessly shoved aside; the sweat from your thighs coating his desk.

 “So fucking filthy.” He breathed.  The profanity sounded strange on his lips, almost more like a prayer than an insult.

 He stared at one of your thighs as he slowly placed a warm, gloved hand on it. You reacted immediately, gasping at his touch, and his eyes darted to yours.

 “...And needy.” He added.

 From your peripheral you could see his other hand grip his cock and begin to pump it. You tried to watch... you wanted to watch.  But the heat of his hand on your thigh made nearly everything else fade away until it was all you cared about.  Your breaths began to come in hot pants as your body trembled beneath him.

 “I didn’t realize that you were so desperate for me.” He said calmly as he continued to stroke himself.  His gloved hand squeezed your soft flesh until you were moaning from the mixture of pleasure and pain. “Pathetic.”

 You were pathetic.  But you didn’t care.  You’d say anything, do anything, just to have him keep touching you.  And if he wanted you to beg?  To cry? To humiliate yourself to earn his cock?  You’d do that too.

 His hand slowly eased its grip as it began to move up, up, up until his thumb nestled in the crook of your thigh, just shy of your sensitive, swollen folds. Your hand immediately made way for his as you laid down completely onto his desk, your world spinning.  A warmth fell over you like a blanket, every fiber of your being pulsing at a low hum; you were a glass vibrating at a frequency just shy of shattering.

 Chisaki’s voice floated through your haze like a faraway song carried on the wind. “You were so eager at first.  So willing to shame yourself – shame me – to get what you wanted.”  He scoffed. “Now you can’t even do as I say.”

 You could feel his thigh twitch against yours as he began to pump himself faster. His cock was so close to your pussy that it was torturous.  It made you want to cry.  You could feel the warmth of fresh juices begin to flow from you, coating your entrance in invitation, as you prayed to all the gods above and below for him to enter you without mercy.

 But it never came.  And his hand never ventured further.  Slowly, your thoughts trickled back ever so slightly, and you realized he was waiting for you to speak.  Slowly, around a heavy tongue, you made clumsy words.  “I... I’m sorry...I’m trying... is hard...”

 Chisaki tsked.  “You’re afraid.  Afraid of pushing past your limits. So now I’m going to help you.”

 His gloved thumb crossed the threshold to your swollen bud, and your world exploded into color as a sharp zing of pleasure erupted from between your legs. You cried out, your body spasming, hips writhing to escape his touch. It was too much...

 “Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded.

 Then he did something you didn’t expect – his bare hand released his cock and slammed down onto the desk.  The surface rippled beneath you, transforming until smooth arches of dark mahogany wrapped themselves over your arms, effectively pinning you down.

 Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, your breaths coming out in quick, panicked gasps.

 “Kai!” you protested.

 He bent over you and grabbed your jaw in his gloved hand, his plague doctor mask inches from your face. “You wanted me to touch you,” he whispered.  “Now you’re going to get what you asked for.”

 The look in his eyes wasn’t as controlled as before.  Sure, the disgust and hunger were still there.  But there were more emotions now, peaking through the cracks of his practiced façade.  Anger, contempt, fear, desire, longing... and something else; something wild and unhinged.

 Something within him was on the verge of breaking, of being set free, and you were the one responsible.

 He straightened himself up and returned his gloved hand to your sopping core, his cock once again in his bare hand.  His thumb found its home again, nestled firmly against your engorged clit.

 He wasn’t gentle, he wasn’t slow.  Instead, his thumb ran swift, relentless circles, the digit igniting every frayed nerve. Each swipe had you crying out as wave after wave of sharp, jagged pleasure assaulted you, without so much as a second of recovery in between.  And as Chisaki raced you towards that inevitable cliff, his own hand pumped himself hard and fast.  His strokes began to become erratic, his composure slowly slipping as you began to unravel before him, your whines and cries luring him to follow you to the point of no return.  You could feel his own legs began to spasm against your inner thighs, his hips beginning to jut forward with each drag of his palm along his hard shaft.  The gap between your two bodies began to close, until you could feel the tip of him brush against your core. In that instant, you came undone beneath him with his name spilling from your drooling lips.

 The temptation was too much.  He entered you as you came, his cock burying itself within your clenching walls with a single thrust.  Your legs wrapped around him instantly as your body exploded into a mess of tears, shrieks, and trembles.  With one hand on your hip and one working your clit, he fucked you through your orgasm as you cried and panted, his own grunts joining your one-person symphony as you felt every fiber of your being shatter with white hot pleasure. It was all-consuming, disorienting.  You weren’t even sure you were a person anymore.  You could feel nothing else, see nothing else except the man inside of you, hovering over you, filling your existence.

 It didn’t stop. Even after you were a blubbering mess, tears streaming down your cheeks, your thighs and cunt sore, Chisaki kept going, his cock reaching new depths as it dragged against your spasming, sensitive walls.  His breaths were heavy, each pant labored until he ripped his mask off his face.  It was like a switch had been flipped, changing Chisaki from a man in control to nearly animalistic.  Teeth bared, sweat beading across his forehead, golden eyes absolutely feral. His thrusts took you past your orgasm, unrelenting, and you cried and babbled for him to stop, it was too much, your body couldn’t take anymore.  But even as your string of incoherent words begged for the end, your body spoke of a different kind of freedom, your legs tightening around Chisaki’s waist in an effort to pull him impossibly deeper into you.

 Chisaki snarled, releasing his hand from your cunt as he continued to fuck you, and removed his remaining glove with his teeth.  Suddenly, the white fabric was being shoved into your mouth, gagging your broken words behind its white cotton that smelled and tasted of you.

 “Shut up.” He growled.

 You could see the hives breaking out across his damp, flushed skin now at the contact, but it no longer seemed to matter to him.  And it didn’t matter to you either.  You were wrapped up delirium, your eyes glossing over and rolling into your head with each drive of Chisaki’s hips. Your hips couldn’t even keep up with his thrusts anymore; his movements were too rough, too fast.  All you could do was lay there and receive him as he pounded you without restraint.  That familiar knot was forming again, a dark beast built from the broken pieces of the last. It was a terrifying thing, a formidable presence that you felt building within yourself that would surely decimate you.

 “This is what you really wanted, isn’t it?” Chisaki grunted through clenched teeth. “You wanted me to fuck you senseless, to ruin this tight pussy of yours like the greedy, selfish bitch you are.”

 His words washed over you and you gave the faintest of nods, your mouth still gagged.

 “So, you’re going to take what I give you. You’re going to cum when I say, as often as I say.”  His cock hit deep as his thumb gave a final press against your clit. “Now.”

 You screamed around the cotton in your mouth, back arching and arms straining against the wood trapping you as the tension finally erupted.  It tore through your veins, making your fluids gush and your pussy clench like a vice around Chisaki’s pumping cock.  Not a moment later, you heard him groan followed by the hot sensation of his cum coating your walls.  It only enhanced the waves of pleasure still wrecking you and your pussy milked him greedily as he emptied himself in you.

 The comedown felt like it would never arrive. Your nerves still sang too loudly, the aches echoed too deep.  But finally, Chisaki’s hips stuttered to a stop and your own body lay limp beneath him. It felt like you were submerged under water, every sense dulled or muted, as you stared hazily at the ceiling.  Chisaki was still in you, his dick twitching sensitively each time your body gave a weak aftershock. You had thought he would pull out, leave you there like the ruined mess you were to go clean himself up.  Now doubt he’d return to his senses any moment and be repulsed by what transpired.

 But he never did.  Instead, he braced himself over you, his heavy, hot breaths coating your exposed skin as he settled through his own comedown while you warmed his cock.  You felt the desk ripple beneath you and suddenly your arms were freed from their restraints, the wooden surface back to its original state.  A moment later, he filled your view as he leaned over you, and you had a brief moment of panic, wondering if you were next. Was he going to overhaul you now? After all, he got what he wanted...

 But he never did that either.  Instead, he removed the glove from your mouth as his eyes traced over your face, marking every feature, every nuance.  Your parted, chapped lips... your glossy, sweat-stained skin... the exhaustion in your eyes...  His thumb came up to wipe away at the tears drying along your cheekbones before running the smooth pad over your lower lip.

 Then he did something you didn’t anticipate, something that surprised you above all else. He bent down and captured your mouth with his, his wet tongue gliding into your stunned, open mouth.  It was strangely slow, uncharacteristically tender, and entirely unexpected.  The fog you’d been swimming in a moment before lifted slightly, and you began to kiss him back, your arm wrapping up around his shoulders before tangling your fingers into his damp, auburn locks at the base of his neck.

 Whatever it was, it was short-lived.  He brought a hand up to grasp the hand you had around his neck, his fingers twining with yours as he placed your hand back down on the desk, pinning you within his hold. He pulled away from the kiss and stared down at you with a dark smirk tugging the corners of his wet lips.  And his eyes... his eyes burned gold like the sun. Not a beautiful, gentle gold that kissed open delicate flowers and melted winter snow.  No, this was a force of unrelenting destruction, the kind that burned deserts, scorched forests... and melted wax wings.

 You were Icarus, fueled by foolishness and arrogance. You’d flown too close, fueled by a false sense of confidence that you could handle whatever it was that lurked within him, that your lust was enough to match his.  But you were quickly learning you couldn’t.  His fire burned too hot, his hunger too deep. He was going to devour you until there was nothing left.  And really, what did you expect from a man who denied himself every human urge in his quest for perfection?  

 The sun could never be controlled.

 And Pandora’s box can never be closed.

 Slowly, he lowered his face next to yours until you could feel his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

 “Again.”

[carryonthroughtheages]

Hello everyone!

Another year of Carry On Through The Ages is over and done! We have emotions and exhaustion, but we're so happy that this year had the hype and excitement that it did.

Thank you, from the bottom of our hearts, to all of the AMAZING creators who spent the last several months working away at their historical content!

Thank you also to the hard-working mods: @bazzybelle, @giishu, @palimpsessed, and @xivz . This fest would not have been as successful as it has been without you!

We encourage everyone to look under the page break for all the fics and art. They're all fantastic!

Here is the link to the AO3 Collection: Carry On Through The Ages 2021!

Thank you all, and until next year! 🧡🧡🧡

MONDAY:

1) sun on the sea (T) - @trenchcoat-moth : AO3 // Tumblr

Tensions run high in England, and Malcolm decides it's for the best he sends Baz to live with Fiona, where he'll be safer.

That is, until Baz's ship is attacked.

2) The Words I Long To Say (M) - @bazzybelle : AO3 // Tumblr

Simon Snow was dead.

Baz Pitch was sure of it. Simon had gone away seven years ago to fight a war in the jungle and he hadn't come home.

So, when Simon shows up in Baz's club, investigating a string of brutal murders, all Baz wants to do is hold him close and never let him go.

But these aren't the same boys from 1960 and Baz has a lot of processing to do before he's ready to believe in Simon again.

3) we are slaves to gods, whatever gods are (M) - @wellbelesbian : AO3 // Tumblr

I don’t fully understand what plagues him, but I know it’s bad, and I know it goes deeper than guilt. He didn’t want to kill his father, not really, but we were instructed to do so by Apollo. Cleanse the house of its sins, dispose of a murderer to set things right. It was only right that I join him; he was avenging my mother as much as his. Clearly, Apollo didn’t seem to consider that such an act would make Simon a murderer in his father’s place. It seems I got off fine, but as far as Simon is concerned, the vengeful spirits that once spun and danced on the roof of the palace now hunt him down, determined not to stop until he rids the world of himself.

4) World War II Era Art - @stardustasincocaine : Tumblr

TUESDAY:

1) the art of loving you (E) - @one-more-offbeat-anthem : AO3 // Tumblr

1955. London. Young love.

Forbidden love.

A year ago, starving artist Simon Snow met Baz Pitch, son of a wealthy art patron, at a party, and their days (and nights) together have been a wonderful secret.

But Simon is tired of being a secret and knows it's time for things to end.

(Baz has other ideas.)

2) Reliquary of an Arsonist (T) - @tea-brigade : AO3 // Tumblr

Simon Snow grew up a ward of Watford Abbey, but when his magic manifested in an explosive accident as a child, he became the Abbey’s anchorite—never to leave Watford’s walls, for his own protection. That is, until Abbot David sends him on an important errand…

Basilton Pitch paints portraits for his patron, Lord Grimm. But he’s never forgotten the magic he learned from his mother—nor the men who condemned her to death as a heretic. When Simon arrives and offers Baz a commission from Watford Abbey, he sees his chance to avenge his mother once and for all...and he’s willing to burn down everything in his path to that end.

But it was no coincidence that pulled these two unlikely souls together. Something more sinister is underway at Watford Abbey, and only Simon and Baz can uncover the truth before everything goes up in flames.

3) Westward Son (E) - @aristocratic-otter : AO3 // Tumblr

Simon and Baz have found each other again, but there's nowhere in Brooklyn or Virginia where they can safely be together. So now, they venture the hazards and struggles of the Oregon trail, to perhaps find a little homestead in Oregon of their own.

4) A Way Out (T) - @lying-on-the-sofa : AO3

I frown at him..“You don’t know me.”

He offers his hand. “Simon.”

Simon. I feel the name around in my mind and assign it to his face. Simon. I don’t shake his hand. They’ve still got my arms pinned. “Basilton.”

Simon nods at me. “Now we know each other. Let him go.” Very casually, he takes his other hand from behind his back. A sword, flashing. He leans on it and smiles invitingly. “Let him go.”

This time, they listen.

--

Simon Snow has been trained for years to become a tribute—one of the fighters Athens sends every ninth year into the Minotaur’s labyrinth. He wants to know the way out, if only for Penny’s sake. Luckily for him, Prince Basilton of Crete also wants a way out—off the island, where no one will know he’s the half-brother of the Minotaur.

Unluckily for both of them, they don’t exactly form the most agreeable pair.

WEDNESDAY

1) long is the road the leads me home (G) - @wellbelesbian : AO3 (Version 1) (Version 2) // Tumblr

Baz has a rather unremarkable life, and he's fine with that. Running his late mother's beloved inn with his temperamental aunt, estranged from his father and step-siblings, he's successfully convinced himself that he's better off without attachments.

Then Simon barrels into his life, guns blazing and rapier drawn, and Baz is swept up in dramatic plot he never bargained for.

Worse still, he finds he quite likes the thrill.

2) New Romantics (T) - @ninemagicks : AO3 // Tumblr

Basilton Pitch, twenty-two years old and a famed poet of the Romantic era, has fled to the countryside. In Mummers House, the fabled haunt of literary greats, he sulks himself into oblivion and awaits a sad, disappointing end to his brief years of brilliance. The cause of his downfall? None other than Simon Snow, the so-called “bad boy of English poetry”, breaker of rules and eternal thorn in his side. Baz hopes that Mummers House might mean an escape from London, from Snow and his increasingly virulent popularity... but the rain that comes has other ideas.

3) thnétos (T) - @snowybank : AO3 // Tumblr

thnétos: subject to death, mortal

a retelling of Apollo and Hyacinthus

4) A Medieval AU art piece - @thewriterxj : Tumblr

THURSDAY

1) From Eden (E) - @orange-peony : AO3 // Tumblr

I wonder if his skin is warm or cold to the touch. I tell myself it’s simple curiosity, that I’m an artist and capturing things on paper or canvas is my way to make sense of the world. That drawing him feels so natural, so I should just follow my instincts. Ebb used to say it all the time. Follow your heart. It knows where you’re supposed to go.

I wish I could. I wish I had enough money and freedom to just draw what I want. To paint him in his unattainable beauty. To draw him the way I want to. Naked and vulnerable, raw. Without frills and expensive suits.

Just Baz on paper, my fingers tracing his delicate and beautiful lines with simple charcoal.

2) Slings and Eros (M) - @palimpsessed : AO3 // Tumblr

Young god of love Simonides is tasked by his father, the god of war, to bring about the ruin of a mortal prince to punish his blasphemy. However, once Simonides sees his intended victim, he begins to have misgivings. Prince Tyrannus might have offended the gods with his very existence, but all Simonides can see is how beautiful and lonely he is.

Or, a very loose interpretation of the Eros and Psyche myth.

3) I Don't Want to Set the World on Fire (M) - @knitbelove : AO3 // Tumblr

September 1940: Going back to Watford feels different this year, and not just because England is at the brink of war with Germany and Italy. Penelope seems unsettled by everything, and Agatha is distant, and Baz is … simply not here.

What if Carry On but during the Blitz?? Yeah.

4) A Fool's Oath (M) - @thewriterxj : AO3 // Tumblr

A simple soldier is invited to join the ranks of the royal guard. He and his appointed mage arrive at the royal city to find themselves at the mercy of an unmerciful court. As he struggles to find his place in this foreign environment, he also finds himself entranced by music that only he seems to hear that floats out about the city. He makes an oath to wed whoever makes such beautiful music.

Too bad that person is the crown prince.

FRIDAY

1) Stranger Tides (T) - @tea-brigade & @xivz : AO3 // Tumblr

“If some god shall wreck me in the wine-dark deep, even so I will endure…” Captain Simon Snow of the Chosen One is many things—cunning, handsome, ruthless. Greedy. It’s no surprise that Snow finds a way to piss off the God of the Sea, he always manages to get himself into some type of trouble. This time, however, he’s not the only one who will suffer the consequences. Poseidon promises to not stop his pursuit until Snow and all of his men are dead.

Enter Basilton Pitch—rich, beautiful, mysterious. Suspicious. He offers the crew of the Chosen One a hefty sum to take him back to Europe from the Caribbean. And who is Captain Snow to refuse so much coin? After all, Greek gods aren’t real.

Right?

2) The wayward heir [comic] (M) - @letraspal : AO3 // Tumblr

Like a folk song, our love will be passed on. Simon Snow wants to be an artist. He used to live in Fiesole where he worked in the wool shop of his good friend Ebeneza Petty. He has now chosen to return to his native Florence in order to participate in an art contest hosted by the Pitch family, the most important bankers in all the three continents and Simon’s last chance for an art patronage. No matter how much he hates them.

But being back in Florence also brings back the memories Simon wanted to leave behind : his days as an orphan, the mystery about his mother, and once more being under the inquisitive eyes of his godfather, the new archbishop Davy. The archbishop is very same man who would never forgive him for dropping out the priesthood and ruining his secret plans against the Pitches.

The last thing Simon needed was an unbearably handsome jerk getting him into trouble on his very first day in Florence. How can focus when this man is the most annoying person he has ever met and yet his major source of inspiration.

3) Prohibition Blues (T) - @heyyyandrea : AO3

Simon Snow is a baker and aspiring playwright in Prohibition Era New York City. When he meets a handsome man at Shepherd's speakeasy who is interested in his work, he can't help but think it feels too good to be true.

4) Earth Below & Sky Above (M) - @phoxphyre : AO3 // Tumblr

In the depth of the palace of King Minos of Crete lurks a creature known as the Minotaur.

Baz, prince of Athens and chosen of the god Poseidon, has heard the stories. And now he’s volunteered to come to Crete as one of the annual tributes—to dance with the king’s bulls and fulfill his destiny. He just wants to survive the bulls, protect his people, and go home.

But what if the Minotaur isn’t a monster—but just a boy? And what if instead of slaying him, Baz fell in love with him?

A Carry On retelling of the myth of Theseus and the Minotaur, set in Bronze Age Crete.

5) A 1980s AU Art piece by @stardustasincocaine : Tumblr // Instagram (Slightly NSFW)

[youwouldntbelievehowigothere]

please write a zelink tangled au fic 🥺🥺🥺

HAHA this took so long to get right. I'm not completely happy with it, but it's better than I thought it was when I finished it a few days ago.

I started writing it where Link was in the tower, and then I was wanting Sheik in the story some way, and it just got a little more complicated. I settled on something much more conventional to the prompt.

Zelink I used... well I thought the fairy tale inspired AU would fit the earlier zelda games... but I've only ever played the first zelda for half an hour and did not get very far (well, and link's awakening, but that's sort of removed from the zelda part of legend of zelda). So when I say loosely early zelda games, know that's just for the general vibes.

Without further ado:

The young woman’s gloved hands sparkled with magic and Link found himself bound by some invisible force. The room was dark, where it had been lit by the mid-morning sun not minutes before. 

“Something brought you here,” she said, “fate… destiny…”

Link said nothing, still reeling that not only was the tower occupied, it was occupied by a pretty girl who could use magic. 

“Trying the silent treatment?” she asked, drawing closer. Close enough he could see the violet of her eyes. “Well, I know other spells, and–”

“I was exploring,” he interrupted, “This tower looked abandoned.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You were exploring?”

He nodded.

“Why do you have those?” she asked, looking pointedly at the sword on his back, and the hookshot still in his hand.

“Monsters.”

“Monsters?”

He squinted at her slightly and would’ve tilted his head if he could move that much. “You don’t get out much, do you?”

“So you didn’t come here to–” she shut her mouth before she could finish the question.

“I’m an adventurer,” he said in an attempt to put her at ease. “Treasure hunter when convenient, former hero.”

“Former?” 

The magical binds tightened around him and Link corrected himself hastily. “Uh, forget about it.”

This only made her more upset.

“Did you do something villainous to cancel out the heroics?”

“No, no!” he exclaimed, “It was just a long time ago. I was just a kid.”

She loosened the binds slightly. “What did you do?”

“I slew a few big monsters,” he explained, “they were bothering people in Hyrule, and–”

The magical bonds were released completely, and Link fell to the floor with a startled yelp. Ignoring his ignoble cry, the girl helped him up. She watched him owlishly, as if seeing him for the first time. It wasn’t fear or distrust, but curiosity.

“You’ve been to Hyrule?” she asked.

The change in demeanor was so great, he had to stare for a moment before answering, “Yeah…”

She pulled him to the curtain covered window, her hand surprisingly strong for someone so unassuming and pulled the coverings aside. The landscape stretched out before them, the green and thorns surrounding the tower, and the dark woods beyond that. She pointed out towards a mountain to the north. “It’s that direction, right?”

He nodded, and she pulled him away excitedly to a thick book on a desk. She leafed through the pages with an expert speed, clearly having come to the spot in the book many times judging from how the spine sagged. The page was of a star map with small neat notes in the margins. 

“Each year, on my birthday, there are lights released into the sky from that direction. According to this star chart I estimated it to be Hyrule, but I don’t have any books about Hyrule. When I asked Father, he told me there was no need for me to learn about such a horrible place. So I didn’t know if it was simply a coincidence that the two things coincided.” 

She glanced up at him to see if he was paying attention. “Do you know what I’m talking about?”

He furrowed his brows, trying to remember. “I’ve not been there in a long time, and I like to explore cave systems often enough…”

Her shoulders drooped, and she continued with, “They’re beautiful. I’ve… I’ve always wanted to see them up close, but I’m not allowed to leave the tower.”

“You really want to go see them,” he observed.

She nodded, almost shyly. 

“Let’s go, then,” he said.

“Didn’t you just hear me?” she asked, “Father would kill me!”

“How old are you turning?” he asked back. She was taken aback and nervously played with a piece of her long strawberry blonde hair. 

“I’m turning seventeen in two days,” she said. 

“And you’ve never been to Hyrule?” he asked, “by the time I was eleven I was well on my way out of the Kokiri forest.”

More hair twisting through her gloved hands. She averted her eyes and said almost meekly, “I’ve never left the tower.” 

Oh. Link readdressed the situation. He couldn’t imagine being stuck in a tower for a few days, much less his entire life! 

“Then you have to go!” he entreated. “Being stuck in a place like this would–” he stopped himself. He cleared his throat and continued, “what I mean is, travel is great! Besides, when is your dad getting back?”

“In three days,” she answered.

“Oh, that’s plenty of time to get there and back without him even knowing.”

“And you’d help me out of the kindness of your heart?” she asked. 

“Of course,” he answered, then leaned in conspiratorially. “I was a hero in my youth, I sometimes get these selfless urges.”

She giggled at that, and a stray thought struck Link. Half joking he said, “Although, considering how well read you are, you might be able to help me with something else.”

“Yes?” she asked.

“Well, for a while now I’ve been searching for the triforces. I’ve already found one, but now I just need to find wisdom and power. Honestly, this tower looked a little promising, but it housesd you, not a magic triangle thing-y.”

She drew back slightly. “What do you want with those?” she asked. 

He shrugged, “I heard if you combine them they grant a wish.”

“And what would you wish for?”

He laughed then at her curiosity and responded, “Oh you know, a private island, riches, a magic talking boat…”

“A magic talking boat?”

He nodded. “So I could have company when I’m sailing.”

“And you sail?”

“Never a day in my life.”

Some of the mirth was back and he was glad for it. 

“It’s certainly an odd dream if you don’t know if you like boating,” she said, and then thoughtfully added, “but I wish to see the lights and I don’t know what they are either.” She nodded once and started packing her things. “I will go with you–” she colored slightly and then turned back to look at him. “I just realized, I never asked for your name, and I never gave mine.”

Link had gotten used to not being asked his name. Though he had been growing curious about hers. 

With a graceful curtsy she introduced herself, “I am Zelda.”

He saluted and said, “I’m Link.”

“Well, Link, I believe we’re wasting daylight.”

Once packed with supplies, a task she completed much too quickly to only have been thinking about leaving in their brief meeting, Zelda approached her large window. Link wondered if she had a rope or any other way to get down, when after a long minute of staring at the wide world outside, she disappeared in a cloud of dust. 

Link looked around desperately, wondering where she could’ve gone. 

“Hey!” she called. He stuck his head out of the window to see her on the ground. “What are you waiting for?”

Link retrieved his hook shot and without further encouragement, met her on the ground. 

To Hyrule they went.

[asterekmess]

Did you ever watch Buffy? The first episode where Anya was introduced was titled "The Wish" and all I can think about is if Scott McCall had ever run into a pure Sidhe where they offered him a wish. Instead of, "I wish Buffy had never come to Sunnydale." It would be more, "I wish I was never bitten to become a werewolf." But just like all feaye tricks, the outcome is more, his Dad ended up with primary custody rather than his Mom and he was forced to leave BH. And then Stiles ended up more friends with Heather and others. And while Scott's life is worse, when he tracks down the others he finds all of theirs are greatly improved.

I think about it a lot and how Scott never really dealt with the consequences of any of his actions, everyone else did, and how an episode or mini-arc could have fixed a flaw in the show's design. I mean, we were already dealing with a lot of Celtic lore, why not someone from the Sidhe courts?

I have no idea why this took me so long to answer, so apologies for that. <3 I did watch buffy! I've seen all of it, and all of Angel as well. XD

I remember 'The Wish' episode, and whoooo boy it gave me chills. I loved how big the butterfly effect was, how something that seemed so small, something that Genuinely seemed to be the cause of a lot of problems in Sunnydale, ended up being so important to how things had progressed. Because, yeah, you would think Buffy not coming to Sunnydale would be a Good Thing, right? Sunnydale didn't have all of these insane issues before she arrived. It was quiet, and nothing big or scary ever happened. Her arrival matches perfectly with when everything started going absolutely nuts, so whatever selfish ideas Cordelia had, her thought that Buffy not coming to Sunnydale would be a good thing, makes sense. Except that, as she finds out, she's entirely wrong. Buffy's arrival was a lucky coincidence, or fate, whatever your taste leans toward. She showed up right as things started going nuts, and she kept it from going SO MUCH MORE NUTS.

Now, moving on to TW, it is a fascinating mix of being the Exact same situation, and the exact Opposite. I'll add a Read More, cus' holy god is this a lot of Rambling.

Because Scott wishing not to have been bitten...yeah, the bite Did improve things. But it improved things for him. He would absolutely regret making the wish, just like Cordelia did, because he would realize how many good things the bite had brought with it. BUT, conversely, he would have to realize how many good things the bite had brought for him, not for other people, and how their lives either wouldn't have been affect, or might've even Improved without him being bitten. Without the bite, Scott wouldn't have gotten on first line, period. His health issues made very clear in the five minutes he had them that any kind of stamina based sport was just out of the question for him. If he is unable to walk through the woods at a moderate pace without needing to grab his inhaler and stop against a tree, he just plain cannot play lacrosse for two or three hours of running at high speeds and working a bunch of muscles in his upper body. He likely wouldn't have gone out with Allison, because he would have no convenient way to get her attention. Furthermore, he wouldn't have the extra senses that both impressed her on the lacrosse field, and told him about her 'family dinner' the night of Lydia's party. (I've discussed this before, but... While it's true, Allison would have still brought him the dog; that dog would likely have attacked him, and his chances with her would have been shot in the foot when they both got in massive trouble and he likely had to go to the ER for stitches or something. Without Allison or first line, he wouldn't have started hanging out with the 'cool kids,' and quite frankly, wouldn't have had anyone to help him study for the classes he was struggling with. It's true that he also wouldn't have had werewolf things to worry about, or even a girlfriend to distract him from homework, so maybe that wouldn't have been such a huge issue, but still.

If we look at other people's lives and how They would have been affected by Scott not getting the bite...well, let's talk about that.

Stiles didn't get on first line because of Scott, or because of a werewolf bite. Or even because of the werewolf bullshittery occurring in town. He was put on first line because of his abilities, and even after being taken OFF first line for missing the game, he was put Right onto the field in the next game, chosen OVER other players who were perfectly viable options. Which means, he still would've ended up on first line. Allison wasn't interested in dating before she met Scott, and part of her draw to him was based on how 'different' he was. He knew things she didn't know how he could know, he had a weird ability to calm a furious, injured dog, and he had charisma that was ALSO gained from the bite, since being on first line made Scott Much more self-confident. If she didn't end up dating him, it's likely she wouldn't have dated at all. Which would mean no hiding from her parents, no strange conflicts of interest, AND, interestingly enough --depending on her involvement in the murders, etc that would still be occurring in town--no night in the school that would scare her bad enough to ask Kate for extra help and tip her headfirst into hunter training. AND, even if she DID still end up getting those lessons from Kate? There would be no bitterness to fuel her behavior at the end of season 1.

Allison was Traumatized after Kate showed her Derek on the grate. She was horrified, and didn't know what to do about it, and while we can ramble all we want about the morality of her not confronting her family (whom she's just discovered is willing to electrocute people) about it, the fact is that she pushed the thoughts aside to stop freaking out and went to that dance. Where she found out Scott was a werewolf, and was So fucking Betrayed that she was willing to help Kate catch him and Derek. No Scott, no betrayal, no willingness to help Kate recapture the miserable man who'd been chained up in a basement.

If we go back to that specific night, and try to unfold the events from there if Scott hadn't been bitten, things get a little complicated, but I'll take a few artistic liberties. Scott isn't bitten. Presumably, he just happens to get out of the woods in time, or he gets caught with Stiles by the sheriff, or doesn't go to the woods in the first place. These all change the possible outcomes of that night. If he hadn't gone in the first place, and Stiles went alone, would he have been bitten instead? Would Scott have been dragged into all of this anyway, but without the protection and boost of being a werewolf and cured of his asthma? If he weren't the one bitten, and he saw everything Stiles gained from it, would he still have such a hatred for the bite? Or would he want it, like Erica did, to cure him and make him powerful and cool? But, let's assume Stiles doesn't get bitten either. The second half of Laura's body still hasn't been found, and Stiles has no reason to fear running back into the preserve the next day, and no real punishment from his father as far as we can tell. So, does he go back to look again? If he did, he would run into Derek, because Derek would still be there after retrieving Laura's body himself. He would see Derek and still recognize him, and from there, things might spiral, still involving Stiles in the supernatural, and it's likely Stiles would try to involve Scott, and Again we get hit with "Would Scott want the bite, if he hadn't gotten forcibly bitten in the first place?" The answer is probably yes. He wanted to be cool, and popular, and on the lacrosse team. He wanted everything being a werewolf gave him. BUT if we're looking at this wish as similar to "The Wish," then no matter what, Scott won't be bitten. He'll be transported to a new world where it just never happened, and he'll be human, and forced to watch everyone around him be just plain different. Scott not being bitten would isolate him from Stiles, if Stiles got involved in the spn anyway. We SAW how Stiles cut off his other friends once the spn starting getting in the way. He and Harley? We have no clue how close they were. They were close enough for her to tease him about his crush on Lydia, for her to wander up comfortably to the locker and talk to them. And he cut her off as soon as the werewolf stuff hit. What if he cut Scott off? To protect him, if nothing else, like he did his own father. Once he realized the danger involved, I doubt he would be willing to put Scott in harm's way.

So, Scott would not only lose first line, lose his girlfriend, lose his popularity, lose his health and strength and heightened abilities, lose his 'importance' to the goings-on of Beacon Hills, but he would also lose Stiles, who seems to have been his only friend, unless he also had a relationship with Harley.

Okay, I've rambled enough about the what if's, so let's talk about the Reason why this wish would go so badly for Scott, in such a different way than it went for Cordelia. Cordelia, first off, wished that someone Else would not have/do something, rather than wishing for herself not to have done something. She watches how fucked up the world gets, and how much worse her life is without Buffy around to save the day. Scott wished for Himself not to have done something (even something passive, like 'get bitten') and would have to watch how fucked up his world gets, and how far behind he would fall. The other's lives might not necessarily get better, because Peter is still on the loose, and the hunters are still there, etc etc, but they would still Progress, while Scott would stay stagnant.

And WHY is that? Because Scott isn't important to the story. It DOESN'T start with him. That's the Whole Point of his character. He is supposed to be the 'everyman' who gets dragged into crazy shit and becomes integral to things that he wasn't ever meant to be a part of. The guy who wanders into becoming King or 'The Hero' that will save the world, even though he's just a small lad from a tiny town, whose highest prospects were "get on first line."

He was NEVER supposed to be Buffy, or if he was, it was done Very Badly.

But Beacon Hills WASN'T a quiet town before Scott was bitten; however much he might've said 'nothing ever happens in this town.' It was FULL of bullshittery and magic from the very beginning. There was the fire, and Paige, and the blinding of Deucalion, and the death of Alexander Argent, and the Nogitsune in the internment camp nearby. All of these things were around So much longer than Scott's bite, and they'd been affecting the world that whole time too. Because yes, in Buffy, the master was There before she was, but he was literally rendered inert by the situations he was in. And the things he'd done happened Centuries before, not six years. There is a difference. Sunnydale was Not Known for the insane number of weird deaths. Beacon Hills was. And aside from the Nogitsune, every single fucking thing that happened in Beacon Hills, was attuned to the Hale family in one way or another. Deucalion's blinding occurred during a meeting on Hale land, because Talia was known as a wise leader, etc, in the area and other wolves flocked to her. Deucalion biting Argent seems unrelated (if you even believe Deucalion did that, despite being a fucking pacifist before Gerard blinded him), but again, it occurs just a couple hours away from Beacon Hills, which is Hale Territory. The one who plays the Buffy role here? Who shows up at just the right time, and launches themself against an endless wave of evil, with slightly enhanced senses and a thorough need to do good and not back away from things that 'aren't they're problem'? The actual hero who is somehow tied to everything going on in ways even they don't understand? Was Derek. The guy who entirely unwittingly allowed Julia Baccari to survive, because he was trying to be merciful to his first love. Who entirely unwittingly was manipulated into giving up information that let a hunter kill his family. Who followed his sister back to town after six years of just trying to survive in New York, fell into a fucking tragedy, and decided to stop the bad guys anyway, even though he knew he didn't stand a fucking chance.

And as annoyed as some might get. The 'everyman' who stumbles onto the set and accidentally becomes integral to the saving of the world? The one whose ambitions are small and who expectations are smaller? Who is misunderstood, and has abilities that aren't recognized or appreciated, that doesn't really fit in, but tries their best anyway? The literal Angel to Derek's Buffy?

Is fucking Stiles. The son of the sheriff who just could not let it go when he discovered there was something funky going on. Who hung around on the edges, even though he wasn't really wanted, because he needed to help. Who ended up saving Derek's life over and over, and becoming so important as to be Derek's anchor? Who literally WENT DARKSIDE and HAD TO BE NEARLY KILLED, even though Derek didn't to kill him???

I know how it sounds, but JD SAID he took inspiration from Buffy. The issue is that his parallels are between DEREK AND STILES, and BUFFY AND ANGEL. Respectively.

Derek might act like the broody bad boy, but it is STILES' mentality that matches Angel's behavior, and it's Derek who matches Buffy.

I'm so fucking off track. Scott would be miserable if he ever managed to get a wish and used it to keep from having been bitten. And it would be sad. I would feel bad for him, had I watched something like that happen. Seeing him realize that most of the good things he had, he only got because of the bite. That Stiles would still be on first line, that Lydia and Jackson would still be the popular kids. That Allison wouldn't know he existed, or if she did would avoid him entirely. That Jackson would never have been turned into the kanima in the first place. That everyone else would move on and up in life, and he would still be standing at the bottom step. Because it wasn't his actual limitations that were holding him back, it was his refusal to accept them, to work with them, and to just plain stop Envying Everyone Around him, and start living his own fucking life instead of trying to steal other people's.

Scott wishes he were Cordelia, and I promise that would backfire too.

[ufevents]

THE LOTUS FESTIVAL: CONCLUSION

"attention, everyone!" the lion councilor kahuzoa announces from the top of the staircase, voice loud and booming, managing to fill the entire ballroom despite its massive size. the music stops immediately, and the bustle below them calms to murmurs. those closest to the staircase look up, giving deyuis's leaders their attention as requested.

"thank you for coming today," kahuzoa continues, proud, albeit close-lipped, smile on his face. "250 years ago today, we all came together to create lotus campus. as you can see, it's stood strong and grown immeasurably since then. it's quite impressive," he chuckles. "of course, this is worthy of celebration! we're glad you could enjoy the festivities."

thegrorthius speaks next: "it certainly is worth celebrating, but it is also worth remembering. many lives were lost in the conflicts before the lotus campus's inception, and we should be grateful for their sacrifices, which served as great inspiration to work together to create noyillai. without these wars and loss of life, there would be no need for the neutral zone, and so something beautiful arose from the violence. may our ancestors look upon us proudly for this accomplishment." he bows his head politely; thoughtfully, and the other leaders are all quiet for a moment. thegrorthius, as old as he is, is inarguably respected by the others, his words always considered carefully, and often heeded.

before long, it is andreas to speak up. "for the first time in centuries, deyuis is at peace. there is no longer any war." he pauses, and it's laurelia that gets the hint and claps enthusiastically. some in the audience follow suit, while others don't. "i am very grateful--"

there's a near deafening shatter, and suddenly, a monster flings itself through the now broken window closest to andreas. it's a grotesque thing: it hovers above the ground, tentacles flowing from behind it, attached to a massive eye.

misu is the one that reacts first, drawing her sword and slicing the creature.

"what the hell is that?" ysmene hollers, drawing her own sword.

just as she does, more of the creatures explode through windows, this time in the ballroom itself. some of the guests scream, and all chaos breaks loose, people trying to escape, the guards on standby trying to fight.

"mogalls," the archsage replies, voice troubled. "we sometimes see them in omaduun."

"their appearances historically have coincided with the use of dangerous dark magic," thegrorthius adds, moving to stand in front of faeryn; he knows from experience, as he was alive among some of the first dark mages in existence.

andreas turns on the archsage. "you did this," he claims, with little room for argument.

"for what reason would i summon mogalls to a celebration like this?" the archsage fires back.

"your people will do anything to sow chaos! you expect me to believe it's a coincidence that you finally show up to a meeting and these things do too?"

"gentlemen!" ysmene loudly interrupts. with her sword in one hand, she motions with her free one to an approaching mogall. "get busy."

it's enough to stop their bickering for now.

"kahuzoa," faeryn says, somehow calmly and urgently at once. she stands with kahuzoa and thegrorthius in front and back of her, protecting her from any oncoming attacks given her inability to fight.

"if you are able to fight," kahuzoa's booming voice echoes through the ballroom once again. "gather your weapons and join us in neutralizing this threat. otherwise, find safety as soon as possible. look to laurelia for guidance."

he then shifts into his lion form and lets out a roar that does little to disturb the mogalls.

"daldona and gleil help us," laurelia mutters under her breath from her place in the chaos on the ballroom floor itself. she raises her voice a mere moment after: "do not exit through the broken windows! you may take shelter in the eastern part of the hall where there are no windows, or use the north and south exits to evacuate. your weapons are being held in rooms by the doors you entered in, sorted in alphabetical order based on what name you gave upon entry. i know everyone is frightened but the entryway to these rooms is small, so please form a line outside the door and move to find your weapons as quickly as possible. we will prevail!"

– ♕ –

well...this really throws a wrench in celebrating lotus campus's 250th anniversary, doesn't it? even though the lotus festival event is technically over, it's also...not quite. that being said, the first part of the event is over, meaning you may no longer level up from or start more festival threads taking place before the mogall attack. you may, however, write about anything mentioned in this post and the events following it that you'd like. more details on that coming up in an additional post!

[blueknightdg]

Consideration and Generosity

----------------

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug and Chat Noire, DCU

Characters: Marinette, Damian

----------

She sat on a park bench that day; the weather was hot yet, cloudy.

Despite the uncomfortable sweat clinging to her being and the buzzing noise of her surroundings, she smiled happily. She would do anything for inspiration, even endure the blistering feeling of the sun.

Soon enough it has been hours since she began to sketch and draw designs for clothing she wishes to make true.

She feels her head is off, so she takes a break to answer a text from her mother.

----------

(Mom) Marinette, are you still at the park? It's been five hours.

(Me) Yep! Just taking a break.

(Mom) Just now? It's really hot outside, have you eaten? What about water?

(Me) Don't worry! I'm fine! I stayed in the shade the whole time.

(Mom) Okay, but I want a picture of you eating.

(Me) Okay, I will. I love you!

(Mom) I love you too.

----------------------

Marinette, packs her sketch books and other materials a way in her bag. She stands up, only to tip over onto someone walking past her.

"Hey, you-"

The person stops to keep her from falling all the way down.

"Uh... I'm sorry, I guess I should have taken a break earlier."

She tries to break a way from the strangers grip. They let her go easily. They began to walk a little further a way with a eye in her direction. She sits down again to collect herself. She takes a few breaths and thinks about how to get up without falling and embarrassing herself.

"I wish I packed a water bottle or something, I knew it was hot but I thought I would be fine....", she thought to herself.

She checked her bag in case she just forgot. Lo and behold there was a water bottle in one of the outside pockets.

"Huh....? That's strange, I was sure I......oh well.", she shrugged it off as her forgetting.

Feeling a little better, she carefully stood up. Having not fallen, she smiled and picked up her full bag. She walks in the direction of a small restaurant to eat, since she wouldn't make it home before hunger got to her.

She walked like she wasn't being followed. Casual and slow, she took in the buildings a round her. The same as her memories told her, but still just as beautiful.

Once she got to an empty table, she sat her bag down in front of her. The waitress walks up to her with a smile.

"Hello! Here is the menu, please take your time. Though I do suggest today's special! Mushroom soup with broccoli, carrots, and rice."

"Thank you."

"No problem!"

The waitress leaves her be and she focuses on the menu. It seems that this restaurant is all about healthy living.

She hums to herself as she thinks of her order. However, everything sounded wonderful and she couldn't decide. Then she heard a waitress bring someone's order of a tofu and veggie stuffed bell peppers with a side salad. So she looked over to see the meal and found that it looked delicious. She also saw they ordered tomato juice.

Looking at the menu one more time, she located the meal, drink and picked out a dessert on her own.

As soon as she put her menu down, the waitress came up to her with her pen and notepad out.

"Ready to order?"

"Yes, I would like the Tofu and Veggie stuffed Bell peppers with a side salad, tomato juice, and the vanilla, soy bean ice cream."

"Would you like a topping?"

"Yes, let's see....oh! The coconut sprinkles and strawberry drizzle."

"To repeat: Tofu, veggie stuff bell peppers, side salad, tomato juice, vanilla soy bean ice cream with coconut sprinkles and strawberry drizzle?"

"Yes."

"Okay, we will right on it!"

Marinette took out her phone as she waited. She texted her mom, that she was at a restaurant nearby. Her mom reminded her to send a picture of her eating.

A few minutes later and her food was brought to her.

"Thank you so much!"

"It's no problem, dear, tell me if you need anything!"

The waitress leaves to let her eat. She sends a picture of her food to her mom, who responded with the words 'smile and heart'.

--------

Change perspective

--------

His day was normal. He woke up and dealt with the hooligans that plagued his life. He was currently in Paris as a part of a stake out group. His family dispersed during day to do individual actives. His father wanted him near by, but he argued that he didn't need to be monitored.

His father conceded by saying he must practice being considerate of other people and to update him on how it is going and if he needs help. He was more than reluctant to agree. Regardless, he did.

He didn't like the loose nature of his apparel for the day, but had no chouce due to the heat.

Though by no means is his clothing loose in comparison to others definition. He prefers to be dignified at all times.

Most of the day, he had nothing report to his father that was particularly considerate until he notice the ragged look of a girl a round his age. She looked dehydrated and ill. He scoffs at her lack of self preservation until he notice she was immersed in some kind of sketching. He also remembered his has to be 'considerate' today so he will say she was lost to passion. After all, this is Paris, the city known for passion.

He watches her as she unconsciously squints and makes a grim expression at times. She sways ever so slightly.

In his observations, she stopped her work to look at her phone. Her condition is not well. He walks a little closer with a water bottle he bought. The moment he walked next to her and she stood, he stabilized her and slipped the water bottle in her bag as she spoke, trying to clear her head. She was drenched in sweat.

"Father better be grateful, I am being more than generous with being 'considerate', disgusting.", he thought with distain.

He hurried a way from her only to stop a short distance a way to watch her more and to sanitize his hands; to rid himself of the horrid feeling of her sweat.

The girl swayed less than before, but after updating his father of what happened, he was ordered to tail her. What if she collapsed? His efforts would have been in vain if that was so.

He was slightly frustrated and her slow pace did nothing to help. He only felt a bit better at her choice of eatery. He saw that she was heading for a Healthy Living Restaurant and went a head of her to sit down. He typed to his father that the girl was trying to decide what to eat. He was instructed to do what he thought best if he were to interfere at all. So he picked the most sensible option for her condition, in return, she followed and added something to her order.

He ate quietly and finished before her. He then left a large tip; the service was quick, the food palatable, atmosphere was pleasant and he doubted the girl had much on her. Enough to pay perhaps, but she would then be left with nothing else.

She seemed to be middle class, and the middle class does not make much little wealth, to him at least. Sure, her clothing was quite good with quality, but her manners weren't all that remarkable and nothing else about her was either.

Polite, is what she was. Quiet, unnoticeable, and polite.

To him, she was a foolish girl that dreamed too much and did little for her own well-being. Truly the epitome of moronic whelps.

After he left the restaurant, he watched from a distance. Through the window, he saw her tempt to pay, only to be denied. He smirked, perhaps he should visit this particular restaurant again and maybe even invest a bit?

He felt his phone buzz, his father typed, wanting to be updating on the status of the girl. It became apparent that some of the hooligans are now aware of his sudden punish- mission. Yes, this is a mission.

Protecting such weak plebeians is the duty of his father and him, also the unsightly hooligans- not well in his opinion- but he shall add them this once.

"Father is surely proud of how 'considerate' and 'generous' I am.", he believes, "Excessively so."

------

The day ends with Marinette safely returning home and the still mysterious young man facing his mismatched family.

The young man remained considerate as he ignored the jeers of the hooligans until he realized, he didn't have to any more and retorted as though his words came from the high heavens.

---------

The next time he checked in on the young lady, he had some knowledge of her background he shouldn't and decided to continue to see to it that she is well taken care.

"It's called being an arrogant, egotistical xsshxle with a God complex. She doesn't need your 'consideration', she is not a charity case!"

One loud problem claimed as he tuned him out.

---------

The young man did visit the restaurant once more and she was there. She would visit often and order the same thing as he had the first time. There were times she ordered something else and he would try things she experimented with, minus the meat.

She ordered meat less and less the more she came to the restaurant, he noticed. He had no clue why, since she obviously had no problem eating it.

He didn't order sweets as often as she did, but he would on occasion, get something with a little bit of sweetness to it; like the dried fruit sandwich with any type of sauce it can come with. The sandwich had fresh, and air dried fruit. There would be other ingredients and such to change the flavor of the sandwich, making it a popular item on the menu.

------

Change Perspective

--------

She felt like she has seen the same guy a lot over the past two months and is slightly worried. After some thought to it and the more she believed she was over thinking it and that it was pure coincidence. She did know, however, he had good taste in food and art. Plus that animals are so cute!! He couldn't be all bad if animals liked him.

She would walk a little closer and sometimes walk a little farther from him and since he never moved, she felt better. It really was a coincidence to her knowledge.

Eventually, she would would stop seeing him. He was a tourist, so of course he would leave at some point. Still, she was a little sad.

Oh well, school is starting soon, maybe she'll make friends to fill the loneliness her pretend friend left her.

She liked to pretend this stranger was her friends and that they hung out, since she saw him in most places that she was. She saw him at the restaurant and sometimes the park and rarely he would be at the museum. Technically he wasn't everywhere and not as frequent as she made it seem like he was, but if was often enough to remember him.

"You should have talked to him, get his number."

"But then he might have thought I was hitting on him! I just wanted a friend..."

"Sweetie, look on bright side! Either you can cherish memories that made you happy or you can forget him and move on. You don't know what life has in-store for you, it could be fun!"

"Thank you, mom. You too dad, I will see what happens."

"On that note, want help me frost some cakes?"

"Yes!!!"

-----

The end.