#and the thought of having to repair and sell the thing is terrifying to me even so many years out

[goatsorcery]

reasons i never want to be a home owner:

i doubt i'll ever be in a position where i'll have enough mental/physical energy to hold a full time job and do regular yard work

the idea of having to pay for constant repairs and replacements makes my wallet shake in fear

the process of maintaining and fixing up a house so that it's in shape enough to sell also would cost more money than ill ever have

there's no guarantee that a house will be worth more when sold than when bought, even with all the repairs to make it sellable

most mortgages are cheaper per month than rent, but the total cost of maintaining a house (with taxes, repairs, utilities) is often more than rent

[mayashesfly]

There's something so special about the idea Valentino got Vark for Vox to help with his fear of sharks and then Vox making Kitty for Valentino himself since he wanted one that's so important to me.

Here was Vox, not looking at his gills too much or the fact he had a tiny tail and dorsal fin that increases in size when he's touched by water.

At first, Valentino thought that Vox could be hurt by water due to his robotic body.

But then one day they both got drenched in the acid rain of Hell's weather.

Thankfully, this time around the acidity wasn't harmful to Sinners.

Though Valentino had been amused when he saw some parts of Vox's sweater melting away.

Before he saw the speckle of cyan freckles decorating his shoulders as his dorsal fin popped out, his shark tail going out slightly but not at its full lenght, though definitely enough that Valentino saw it.

He had grinned at the time, thoroughly amused and intrigued by the revelation that Vox avoided water not because he was weak to it but because his more shark-like features come out.

He teased Vox about it, before he noted the way Vox grumbled and quickly put back on his coatsuit to hide himself.

Vox admitted later on that he didn't like his shark-like features, not when he was fucking terrified of them.

It had been hard getting Vark for Vox.

But it was definitely worth it when he seemed so happy and at peace as he played with the shark-dog.

Notably even taking a dive in Vark's water to play with him.

Vox tried multiple times to order a Fizziebot for Valentino since he wanted one, and even though he has a few Voxtek shops in the other Rings and Mammon can't easily sell in the Pride Ring, Mammon would never allow him to buy a Fizziebot in fear that Voxtek would reverse engineer and copy the Fizziebots for Sinners.

When it was clear that Vox couldn't get Valentino his Fizziebot, he decided to make one himself for Val.

(he even ordered a few of his hellborn employees to do it for him but for some fucking reason, Mammon knows which ones they are and won't give them one the greedy prick- Thankfully he didn't have to send any care packages for any dead hellborn employees so that's a plus)

It has been hard for him to get the proportions right when he didn't have the blueprints for it, having to patch together a bunch of reference photos from the internet and then feeding them into the program he prepared before he could get started, but once he did it was all worth it.

To the untrained eye, Kitty looks like any other Fizziebot except that it was specifically designed as a commission. Though it was all of Vox's work.

Knowing Valentino, Vox made sure to program it- her an obedient and docile personality, also being able to feel pain since he knows Valentino would love to use her as a punching bag even when it serves no ither purpose but to fuel Valentino's desire for suffering.

(He may have to repair Kitty on his own since Valentino refuses other people to touch Kitty, but it was worth it if it meant he could see more recordings of what Valentino had been up to throughout the day. And also a… more personal look when the two of them are in bed)

Like every Fizziebot, Kitty cannot speak. Though she can record and remember things.

She was perfect the way she is, perfectly crafted to Valentino's desires.

In a way, Proxy spits at all of that.

Being a sort of weird reverse amalgamation of Valentino helping Vox with accepting his shark-like qualities and Kitty being a gift to help Valentino out.

Being a robot that eerily looks so much like Vox stripped of any of its shark-like features.

A constant reminder that he was gone.

A constant reminder that makes grieving him properly even harder.

When the public can't doesn't know.

When you have to live with the fake ghost of a dear lover- partner- friend.

[teletraan-archive]

You Are Being Deceived, by Slamdance

Introduction

As an autobot serving under the communications officer and famous broadcaster known as Blaster, I’ve gotten to see some of the best of the cybertronian race. As a war journalist, I’ve also gotten to see the worst of it. And almost all of the worst belong to one of the greatest evils that Cybertron has ever produced. The faction consisting of war profiteers, sadistic warriors, misguided fools and sparkless dictators. The decepticon empire.

As the Great War dragged on and expanded throughout the galaxy, the decepticon propaganda machine has worked hard on their public image. They proclaim to be peace keepers and their ideals are for the people. With enough military might and ruthless action, you too can rise up and defend Cybertron from all outside threats. Any planet’s civilization under decepticon rule that doesn’t agree with the philosophy of Peace Through Tyranny knows better. Entire worlds, brimming with unique cultures and ideas, have either been conquered through force or outright destroyed by Megatron’s thirst for power. The decepticon’s claim that what they do is for a safe and secure homeworld ring hollow as 95% of recourses siphoned from decepticon colonies go into weapons development and warship building, instead of repairing our war-ravaged planet. Throughout their entire existence, they have rewritten history and distorted the truth to fool the uninformed or entice the likeminded.

I write these data logs so that the autobots can show any and all sentient beings what the decepticons really are. My logs will contain interviews, historical data, audio logs, and various other sources that all point to an obvious truth; The decepticons are tyrants, they are here to deceive you, and many are proud of that. To conclude this introduction, I will leave the reader with the last typed words of Kaskade, former senate security guard of the city Tarn turned decepticon sniper:

To Megatron,

Consider this my resignation message. This drastic change in our grand movement has brought ruination to my home city. The decepticons have done terrible things in the name of peace. I’ve done terrible things.

I used to be in full agreement with the cause, back when we were still the ascenticons. Sentinel Prime was turning our whole world into a security state and was preventing our species from helping less fortunate organics. But then Termigax went into self exile and you became our new leader. The things you said in your first speech, the actions you promised to do, they shook me to my spark chamber.

Evidently, my thoughts were in the minority. Veterans of the quintesson war, gladiators that idolized you, even senators bought into the scrap you were selling. The only public disapproval came from the senator under my guard, Hilltop. She was adamant that military conquests would just put a Titan sized target onto Cybertron and our colonies. “We worked hard to amend the damage we caused to the galaxy while enslaved to the quintessons. I’m not going to allow Megatron to throw it all away just so he can live out his violent fantasies!” That was what she said to the press, and I believed her.

One day later, you contacted me directly and told me about you were planning an invasion of Tarn. That you knew I was an ascenticon loyalist and wanted me to assassinate Hilltop. You told me that she didn’t have Cybertron’s best interests in mind. You promised me energon, shanix, and a high rank in the growing decepticon army. Underneath all those promises, I saw the thinly veiled threats against my life. For the first time in my career as a security guard, I was terrified. But now? Now my guilt of killing Hilltop outweighs my fear of you.

Send your loyalists after me, find me yourself for all I care. I’ll never forgive you for laying waste to Tarn and destroying everything that the ascenticon movement was supposed to be.

From, Kaskade.

Not long after Kaskade sent this message to Megatron, a large box of light blue and pink scrap metal was put on display outside of the tyrant’s new throne room. Her message was engraved on the front of the box. While the method of death was never officially identified, most suspect that this was the first kill of the Decepticon Justice Devision.

[chitrolls]

I have no idea how to format this. Putting it into a post instead of an ask felt like the right thing because this turned out way longer than I thought it would. Thank you, @spectrology for the ask! I look forward to answering all the rest. This is really helping me knock some dust off. :)

CONTENT WARNINGS: Nightmares, mention of children in extreme poverty, immolation, and implied canon-compliant body horror that comes from being shoved in a helm, but nothing gory or detailed; just mention of the fear of it.

Running Delphi Electronics was a daymare in the early nights. It didn’t take long for word to get around that there’s a legitimate clairvoyant living around the Stacks and not another one of those boring psychics that flipped some cards and told people to think inwards. Things got so busy that you, Almaaz, and Lovelace (still only going by Rhiana at the time) went down to the old space docks to steal a bench. With things getting so busy, a bench was the only thing between you, your employees, your customers, and a fire code violation. One of the downsides of a combination psychic-electronics repair shop.

Now that you’ve long wizened up and keep your readings on an appointment-only basis, the bench doesn’t get the same traffic it used to. Sometimes the girls and Eli meet out there for their lunch. Or maybe you condemn Tyckho to the bench to keep him from ragequitting when he’s got to clean a spectacularly disgusting PC casing. Even you like to stretch out your long legs and have a quick smoke of herbs and dry mind honey when you feel like you’ve got enough privacy.

Tonight, you’ve got some gutter rat from Grub Town stuffing their face with a couple grilled cheeses. There’s no doubt Amoura is to blame for this. A Glossolalia lifer herself, she grew up in Grub Town until you took her in and gave her a job selling trinkets and oddities at your shop. Seeing scrawny wrigglers running around always gets her upset. Not being able to take it anymore, she put a bunch of sandwich shit in the break room fridge and bought a sandwich press. Kids quite literally started crawling up out of the sewers. It wouldn’t be so bad if they, at the very least, weren’t so sneaky about it.

Your loiterer stares up at you with this massive pair of gray eyes that say they aren’t afraid of you. Even as you take a seat on the far end of the bench, they continue to enjoy their sandwiches. You kind of recognize them through the grime and melted cheese. They know you aren’t a threat, but kids around here know they have to put on some kind of a tough front to keep the city’s adults from squishing them underfoot.

When they do start to ease up a bit, they open their little mouth.

“How do you know when, like. Your dream is a vision and not a dream?”

The streets have been talking about Delphi Vitale and speculating about how his amazing clairvoyant abilities work for sweeps. There’s also the crisp, laminated print affixed to the shop’s window detailing some of the services you provide. In-depth dream visions are one of them. You have to give the kid this stupidly animated shrug in response. It’s the only way to genuinely convey what you’re feeling with your face hidden beneath a heavy hood, some gaudy sunglasses, and a smog mask.

“You kinda just get a feelin’ for it, kid.”

What you’re not going to do right here and now is trauma dump on someone you don’t even know; especially when that someone is a kid trying to suck crumbs and the memory of cheese from beneath their fingernails. Still, you can’t help but wonder how well this kid sleeps during the day.

Growing up, you were a fitful sleeper. You were kept up all hours of the day by this terrifying daymare of a man on fire. You were half this kid’s age, maybe even younger, when the daymares began. Up until that point, you had most of your visions while you were awake with the occasional prediction shoved in some background scene of your rare “normal” dreams. You can admit to yourself that you still find the image of that man scary. Or maybe it was his presence that kept you unnerved.

In the early days of your burning man dreams, he’d be standing right at the side of your pool of sopor slime. You’d try to force yourself awake, but that just made things worse. It made his looming feel all the more heavy and even with your eyes just cracked open, you still saw him there and you always knew it was him by the sight and the smell of his burning flesh and his Empire-issue helmsman uniform.

As you got older, you learned ways to manipulate your dreams. It wasn’t much, but figured out how to fling yourself out of your body and watch your dreams like a fly on the wall. He still loomed over your body as you slept. Your dreams only changed to suit whatever in your life was different as you aged or moved hives. The closer you inched towards young adulthood, it was like the man knew you were not in your body anymore, so he started screaming for your attention.

By this time, you had surrendered yourself to the Empire to join the helmsman program. You felt there was no other way for you to survive with your chrome and, besides, you were doing pretty well for yourself despite it all. You didn’t have to deal with your sleeping daymares and waking ones that came with needing to live under the radar to survive. This new lifestyle also provided you with a small solution that kept you running for nights without needing sleep: charging stations. You’d just plug in for a while and last a couple nights on electrical currents running through your ports and brain without needing so much as a wink.

There were PSAs about running on charging stations for too long, of course, but you were fine. You figured out a system. You’d get at least one good day of sleep after several without and you were peachy. Really, you weren’t. Sometimes you’d get a bad discharge running through your ports that made you jerk and jolt about when the worst of them hit. Once you had a series of them that couldn’t have been more than half a minute, but there he was, just outside the edge of your vision. His screams became resigned sobs.

Maybe that’s why you were so off the night you were finally able to carry out your big assignment. The program wanted you hooked into some newfangled experimental ship built for navigating the more dangerous parts of deep space. A clairvoyant in the column meant they crew could more effectively navigate without getting torn up by microplanet sized space debris or sucked into a dying star.

You tell yourself things went south that night for a number of reasons. One of them being that your discharge was worse than usual. Shit, you were also pretty damn scared of being plugged into a ship for unknown stretches of time without someone around that’ll say it’s time to be dismissed for the night so you could rest your ports and get all your psionic energy back up. You didn’t want to wither away until your body let go of your extremities and eyes and senses to preserve and feed the part of you the Empire found useful.

Unfortunately, it was too late to worry about any of that. Too late to say you don’t want to be in this program. Too late to beg for a different assignment, something planetside where you could use your abilities to predict rebel activities. Too late to do anything about the sparks your ports sent up through the helms column that made an impressively long wick out of your ponytail. And it was way too damn late for you to finally be realizing why you spent your entire life haunted by daymares of a man on fire screaming for his life.

“Yeah… You get a feelin’ for it.”

[haadeswrites]

Elysium

god this fic took forever i’m so sorry!! but hey, first fic on the new blog! <33 also y’all should really thank @iwaasfairy who listened to me complain about this fic for a solid month, she’s the reason it got finished

Cult leader Oikawa Tooru x female reader

tw: indoctrination, extremely dubious consent, blood, yandere themes, religious themes, minor character death, implied abuse & drug use, mild smut, nsfw

The island itself is breathtaking

Pristine beaches with gleaming white sand, vast swathes of lush, green rainforest and waterfalls that cascade into shimmering pools of crystal clear water. Untouched, undisturbed; a paradise. At least, that’s how Ryuji had described it. 

Paradise, but only in the sense that a gingerbread cottage in the middle of the woods is paradise to a lost and hungry child. 

He hadn’t been wrong. Bare feet sink into soft, white sand as you climb from the boat - the warmth just toeing the line between pleasant and burning. Gentle waves ebb and flow behind you, and there’s a light breeze that kisses your skin, the taste of seasalt carrying in the wind. Home, it seems to sing.

A laugh sounds somewhere in the distance, yet the only other figure on the beach is a man walking steadily towards you. He smiles when he sees you’ve noticed him; friendly, non-threatening. It’s a far cry from the swarming welcoming committee you’d been dreading, and you wonder if that’s somehow intentional as well. 

As the boat pushes back out to sea he comes to a stop before you, “I’m Makki,” he says, pushing the fringe of his hair back and giving you a not-so-subtle once over. Whatever he sees must meet approval, because his grin only widens, “Welcome to the Commune.”

Ryuji wasn’t wrong; the island is a beautiful, deadly thing.

—

You’d never heard of the Commune before the phone call. 

And maybe that shouldn’t be so surprising. You’ll be the first to admit you’re hardly an expert, but from what you do know, groups like the Commune – cults – don’t spring up out of thin air and start broadcasting their mistreatment and systematic abuse. 

They’re not the kind of people that have sweet old ladies clutching their pearls and mothers shepherding their children away – at least, not in the beginning. Not entirely. They’re not out to recruit extremists to further their cause, they choose to prey on the vulnerable, the lost and the disillusioned. Those easily manipulated. You suspect that’s why when you google the Commune, all you find is a website for what essentially looks like a long term luxury wellness retreat.

‘The Commune is about healing and harmony, about returning to nature, supporting one another to forge a brighter, more holistic future together… a self-sufficient community living apart from technology and other evils of modern society.’ 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you scroll through. There’s a whisper of philosophical teachings woven throughout, a page dedicated to their founder, Oikawa Tooru – smiling handsomely in every single picture, because what would a burgeoning cult be without a charismatic leader – but there’s not enough.

So here you are, on an island hundreds of miles away from home living amongst strangers; because Ryuji wouldn’t have sounded so terrified if this was just some alternate, free-loving bunch of hippies.

And even with all that he’d told you, everything you thought you’d be prepared for, the Commune is like nothing you could’ve imagined. 

Makki introduces you to Asuka, a woman only a few years older than yourself, dark haired and stunningly beautiful, and winks as he tells her to take you under her wing. She smiles brightly, eyes twinkling, and pulls you into a heartfelt hug – as if you’ve known each other your whole lives.

“We’re so glad you’re here!” she beams.

You’d like to hate her. 

It feels like you're supposed to, sometimes; when she gets that dreamy look in her eyes and starts talking about Oikawa and the Commune and how lucky everyone here on the island is. Yet there’s something about her – the genuine warmth she emanates maybe, or the kindness in her eyes – that makes it difficult for you not to like her.

“You should come to the gathering tomorrow,” she hums idly one afternoon, maybe a week or so after your arrival. The two of you are sitting on the edge of the pier, legs dangling down into the water, tangled fishing nets to be repaired strewn between you.

“I always go,” you reply.

She laughs, fixing you with a knowing look, “And sit right at the very back, all but running off the moment we finish?” 

And your traitorous heart skips a beat. 

“It’s okay to take things slowly,” she says. “We understand that being a part of the Commune is a big change from the life you knew, and that not everybody is able to see what we see and embrace those changes.” 

Asuka sets down the knot she’s working through and reaches for your hand, a gentle smile on her face, “But you shouldn’t be afraid. You’re meant to be here, I can feel it. You just need to stop fighting against it; surrender yourself to us, to the island, and everything’ll make sense, I promise.”

It’s dangerous territory. One wrong word could set off alarm bells, yet you can’t help pressing just a little.

“Do you ever miss it, then? Life outside the Commune?” 

Your family. Friends. The life you left behind before you came here to be brainwashed like all of the others.

“Why would I?” she answers without missing a beat, and it’s hard to ignore the bitter flicker of disappointment you feel at her answer. “The island provides for us, we don’t have to spend our days selling off tiny pieces of ourselves just to make ends meet. It’s paradise here, and we have Oikawa to thank for that. Why would I ever want to go back?”

Silence falls between you as you struggle to think of something to say to salvage the situation. Yet Asuka isn’t even looking at you, instead staring out at the water with a strangely pensive expression. 

“Did you know I was married once?” The words seemingly out of the blue, you can only shake your head. For a moment, she doesn’t reply, watching as the waves rise and crash offshore. And then;

“I was young, eighteen or so, fresh out of high school and he was a small town cop.” Her eyes flicker to yours, and your heart clenches at the sadness and pain echoing there. “I thought he was a good man, once upon a time.”

A chord strikes deep, your chest tightening involuntarily at her words. It’s not the same, of course it’s not the same, and yet… 

No. You stop the errant thought in its tracks. Groups like the Commune prey on the vulnerable, you know this. People like Ryuji, like Asuka, like–

Her fingers squeeze around yours, pulling you back to the present. “Come to the gathering tomorrow. Listen to Oikawa, it’ll help.”

—

She doesn’t give you a choice in the matter – dragging you by the hand to sit right at the front of the gathered crowd that very night.

Oikawa’s handsomer up close; tall and dark haired with pretty eyes and long, sweeping lashes that frame delicate cheekbones, it’s not hard for you to see how a man like him has amassed such an impassioned following. 

Once he starts actually speaking, however, you realise that his good looks and charming smile are just the tip of the iceberg. Oikawa’s utterly captivating as he preaches about the cycle of life and death and the paradise that awaits his faithful. Passionate and engaging, he speaks like he truly believes every word of the lies he’s spreading. 

And Asuka, her friends, the others gathered, they eat up every word like it’s gospel truth, resounding cheers and thunderous applause deafening around you. In the midst of the rapturous din, Oikawa’s eyes flit to yours.

Slowly, he smiles – a dazzling grin that makes your stomach flip – and everything; Asuka, the noise, the others swarming around you, it all fades away.

For one electrifying heartbeat, you’re frozen in place. Just you and Oikawa, trapped in the pull of each other’s gaze.

—

You can’t forget the reason you came.

But it’s… difficult, in a way you struggle to understand. You only have one purpose for being here, one goal; find Ryuji and bring him home. 

And yet, some days it’s like there’s a fog in your mind, and you have to focus to remember why you’re here at all. You catch yourself laughing with Asuka and her friends, the days passing by in a blur of endless, easy distractions. 

It barely feels like work when you’re sitting under the shade of the trees, eating the fruits you’ve picked by hand – ripe and sweet, unlike anything you’ve ever tasted – diving off waterfalls into the crystalline water and meandering down the shore collecting seashells. Even when you are working, mending clothes or cooking with the others, it fills you with a sense of contentment you can’t quite explain. 

Like you’re a part of something bigger. Like you’re doing something that matters.

Ryuji becomes a distant thought. A whisper in the back of your head, a niggling in your gut, easily brushed aside and ignored until there’s a moment of quiet. In the dead of night, the balmy summer night’s breeze kissing your bare skin, you lie awake, lost in memories of the last time you’d seen him. 

Fists angrily pounding at your door, the yelling that gave way to sobs and the hoarse, desperate pleas that followed. Ryuji’s face; pupils blown wide and eyes rimmed in red, darting restlessly around as he held you too tight and begged–

Rolling over in bed, you gaze out your window at the star flecked sky, the shadows of the forest that lie at your doorstep, and wonder what it is that scares you more; that you’ve lost track of the days you’ve been here, and saving Ryuji is starting to feel like an afterthought, or that you could so easily forget all of it, find a place here in the Commune and be happy.

‘The island, it–it fucks with your head.’

Ryuji’d told you that, and you’d brushed it off as paranoia. You need to find him. Find him and get the hell outta dodge.

You can deal with the fallout later.

—

Kiyoshi. 

He’d mentioned the name a few times amidst his rambling – a friend of his on the island. You’re annoyed with yourself for not thinking of it sooner, however much like Ryuji himself, trying to focus and remember the name is like wading through thick mud.

Once you do, though, finding him amongst the hundred and fifty or so inhabitants is the easy part. 

There’s no strict division between genders within the Commune, however Kyoshi, despite his somewhat lean stature, is among the builders of the island and his path doesn’t often cross with yours. 

From Asuka you find out that he’s been a part of the Commune for years now, before even she joined, and that he mostly sticks to himself, though you’ve seen him chatting quietly to a few of the other men, a perpetually angry looking blonde in particular.

It’s the last part that piques her interest, “Why’re you so curious, anyway?” she asks, her face lighting up as a sudden thought occurs. “Do you want me to introduce you two? To be honest, I didn’t think he’d be your type, if you’re interested, though…”

Cheeks aflame, you’re quick to shut her down. “No, no, nothing like that. I’ve just… seen him around and we’ve never really spoken, I guess.”

A lame excuse, though mercifully she lets the subject drop without too much prodding.

Therein, of course, lies the problem. Walking up to Kyoshi and casually trying to drop Ryuji into the conversation without raising red flags is risky, but what other options do you have? You’ve already spent too much time on this island.

Although, maybe Asuka has the right idea. 

While you hadn’t been lying when you said you weren’t interested in Kyoshi in that way, nobody else knew that. Who would really look twice at the shy newbie striking up a conversation with the quiet, easygoing man? He wasn’t unattractive per se, and from the brief interactions you’d seen of him, he seemed kind enough.

You have enough patience (barely) to wait for dusk the following night. There’s a celebration, something about the full moon and a blessing on the island and the Commune– you hadn’t really been paying attention when Oikawa had spoken about it. Still, it’s too good an opportunity to pass up. With the fire pits crackling, and the dancing and music and the sweet honey wine flowing freely, nobody will be paying too much attention to what you’ll be doing. Hopefully, the alcohol will also serve to lower Kiyoshi’s guard, and perhaps if you’re really, really lucky, loosen his tongue as well. 

Of course, you’re not banking on him telling you exactly where Ryu is or what happened to him– and that’s assuming he actually knows – but at this point you’ll take anything over the nothing you currently have. A tiny slip up, that’s all you’re asking for. 

As the sun descends beyond the horizon, you play your role well, laughing and chatting amongst friends, sipping carefully at the cup of wine in your hand as you wait for an opening. And perhaps it’s your nerves working against you, but you find that it’s not just Kiyoshi your attention is drawn to. 

Up on the shore, away from the rabble, Oikawa lounges back with a cup of the same honeyed wine you’re pretending to drink. For the most part he seems deep in conversation with Iwaizumi, his right hand, but every once in a while he glances up, letting his gaze roam over the crowd of his followers.

Every inch a king and his general.

And it would seem benevolent, if not for the strange smile he wears – the one that widens when his eyes catch yours.

Swallowing tightly, you force yourself not to dwell on it, to ignore the odd sensation curling in your gut and the way your skin prickles under his attention. Now is not the time to lose focus.

Pushing all thoughts of Oikawa aside, you subtly scan the beach once more, only to find that Kiyoshi’s moved, sitting now on a piece of old driftwood near the bonfire. Alone for the first time tonight. 

Your legs are moving before the thought even fully registers. 

“Do you mind if I sit?” you ask, gesturing to the empty space on the log beside him. 

Kiyoshi smiles, the laugh lines at corners of his eyes crinkling pleasantly, and shakes his head, “Not at all.”

“Thanks.”

Taking another sip of your wine, you will your shoulders to relax, your racing pulse to slow. This has to seem natural, and so you force yourself to hold your tongue, let your head loll back and breathe deep, soaking it all in. You can hear the others in the distance, the music and the dancing, the happy laughter and shouts that beckon – you want to go join them. Even your blood seems to hum, a call of something other pulsing through your veins.

But you pay it no mind. There are more important things to worry about tonight. 

Indeed, steel blue eyes have been appraising you curiously for a while now. “This is your first Lunar blessing, isn’t it?” Kiyoshi asks after a moment.

You nod, humming in agreement. Less than a month; you’ve been here less than a month. Is that a good thing?

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

A harmless enough question, and again you nod your head. “Yeah, it’s…” you pause, searching for words that won’t sound hollow. “It’s paradise. I feel like I need to pinch myself just to make sure it’s real.”

He smiles gently. “But?” he probes.

Grimly, you wonder whether Kiyoshi’s usually this perceptive, or if you’re just a really terrible actor. In a way, you suppose it really doesn’t make a difference; you’ve come too far to turn back now – at least not without raising suspicion. 

So you lie with a truth, and pray that it works.

“I had a friend I was supposed to meet here,” you confess quietly, gazing not at him but the crackling flames of the bonfire, the burning embers carried off into the night. “He was the one who said I should come, but now I’m here and he’s not and every time I catch myself enjoying this–”

“You feel guilty,” he surmises, cutting you off. “Because he’s not here to enjoy it with you.”

Wordlessly, you nod – and maybe it isn’t so much of an act when your eyes begin to glisten, your smile wavering. 

Kiyoshi’s silent for a moment, and you take another sip of the honey wine to hide your nerves. “You shouldn’t, you know,” he says eventually. “Feel guilty, I mean. You belong here, with the Commune. You’re happy here. Paradise… isn’t for everybody.”

He doesn’t say it to be cruel, more like he’s simply stating a fact, and somehow that makes it all the more unnerving. And it’s nothing you haven’t listened to Oikawa preach about time and time again. The Commune is for the devoted, the faithful – the lucky few – and you’ve never thought too hard about what he’d meant by that.

The Commune’s small, maybe a hundred and fifty or so people on the island. There’d been no initiation, no test of faith or trial period you’d had to pass when you arrived – at least, none that you’d been aware of. You simply stepped off the boat and they’d welcomed you with open arms. 

An uneasy sensation settles into your gut, goosebumps prickling at your skin despite the heat of the midsummer night. 

That… doesn’t make sense. It can’t. Absolute control’s too important in groups like this, they couldn’t just let anyone–

Kiyoshi speaks again, his calm voice pulling you from your thoughts. “What was his name?” 

You blink at him slowly – stupidly. “Sorry?”

“Your friend,” he clarifies. “What was his name?”

“Oh, um- Ryuji.”

Kiyoshi’s brow furrows in thought for a moment, but he merely shakes his head, “Doesn’t ring a bell, but like I said, not everyone who arrives stays with us for long.”

He looks you right in the eye as he says it.

You don’t understand the cold, foreboding that seeps through your veins, because he’s lying. He has to be. 

Ryuji was here. They were friends, Ryu’d told you that–

Why did you think this stupid plan would work anyway? That he’d tell you anything, much less the truth when this whole fucked up island is full of liars and those too indoctrinated to know the difference?

“You alright?” he asks when abruptly, you shoot to your feet beside him.

And it takes every ounce of willpower you have left to force an easy smile to your lips, raising your cup just a fraction, “Yeah, just gonna go get a refill. Thanks for the talk, Kiyoshi.”

Whether he notices that your wine’s barely touched or not, you don’t care – not as you turn on your heel without another word and head back up the beach. 

Your head is pounding, your body trembling – you don’t hear the call of your name until a hand reaches out and grasps at your wrist, spinning you around.

Asuka greets you with a wide grin, Makki and a tall, broad shouldered man you think is called Mattsun standing either side of her – the former’s arm slung casually over her shoulder. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you,” she says. “Come on, we’re gonna go swimming, it’s so pretty out there!”

You glance out towards the ocean. Moonlight bathes the inky blue water, light shimmering off the rippling tide; some of the others are already out there, splashing amongst the waves. 

“Clothing optional, of course,” Makki laughs, and Asuka tugs on your wrist once more. 

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

But you shake your head, slowly pulling your hand from her grip, “I’m not feeling great, I think I’m gonna head back.”

Asuka frowns, concern marring her pretty features. “Are you okay? Do you need us to call Mizo–”

“No,” you say, cutting her off. Healer Mizoguchi is the last person you need to see right now. “I just– I just need to go lie down for a bit. You guys go have fun – enjoy the blessing, I’ll be fine.”

Makki and Asuka share a fleeting look, but it’s Mattsun who interjects before either one of them can speak, “I’ll walk you back, then.”

Your stomach churns. It doesn’t sound like a suggestion.

And the smart thing to do would be to accept his help; the walk from the beach to your villa isn’t far, and while you’re not as familiar with Mattsun as you are with Makki or Asuka, it’s not like he’s going to hurt you or anything, but–

“Really– you don’t need to, it’s fine,” you smile weakly, shuffling back as he reaches to offer you his arm. “Go swim, I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

Mattsun shrugs easily enough, falling back into line with the other two – yet there’s something in the way he grins and holds your gaze for a beat longer. A glimmer of amusement, as if there’s some joke you're not a part of. “I’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.”

The heat that floods your cheeks clashes uncomfortably with the cloying heaviness in your stomach, but somehow you manage to stutter out one last goodbye before turning back to scamper off in the direction of your room.

–But not to lie down.

There’s not a cloud in the sky, and the full moon’s bright. No need for a torch, not unless you decide to venture into the heart of the forest.

You’ve been a fool. Kiyoshi, Asuka, Makki, Mattsun; you can’t trust any of them to help you, even unwittingly. Ryuji’s here on the island – somewhere – and every second that slips away, every second that you allow yourself to forget puts him in further danger.

And so you cling to your discomfort, ground yourself in it. The prickling sensation at the back of your neck, the tightness in your chest as you slip past your villa, keeping low and quiet – they’re a reminder that there is something insidious here on the island, that you have to get out.

You and Ryuji.

He’s here. Away from the others, kept under lock and key as punishment, or maybe being forced to undergo whatever kind of glorified brainwashing they’ve got going on, but here. You need to be smart about this, because while you don’t intend to stop until you find him, tonight will be your best shot – while everyone’s distracted down on the beach. 

For the first time in a long time, it feels like you have a clear head. 

Creeping through the underbrush, you steer clear of the well trod pathways that lead towards habitation. You’ve been there, and to the docks, and the river. 

If they’re still keeping him here (and they are, you refuse to entertain the possibility that it could be otherwise) then it’s not somewhere out in the open. A bird cries out in the distance shattering the calm of the night, and you flinch – but it only serves as another reminder that your time tonight is limited; you cannot afford to delay. You wrack your brain, trying to dredge up memories of the last few weeks, surely you must have seen something–

“Lost?”

The single word, spoken in a deep, gruff voice has your blood running cold.

Slowly, you turn. 

Iwa stands behind you in the thicket, his face utterly impassive. Briefly, you contemplate whether it’s worth trying to bluff your way out of this, but Iwa’s eyes narrow, flashing in the dim light and you think better of it.

A sigh escapes you, your shoulders deflating. “Where is he– Ryuji?” you ask; a whisper rather than a demand.

Iwa’s expression gives nothing away. Did he know, or have you handed him the smoking gun of a crime that’d fallen through the cracks? Does it even matter anymore? You’re just–

You’re tired. 

Exhausted. In the space of a few moments all of that shining determination and resolve; it fled, leaving a gaping hole in its wake. This has to end, you can’t keep fighting against them forever. You can’t keep drowning in this guilt, feeling torn every second that you spend here on this stupid island. You just want to find Ryuji and go home.

… Right?

A tense beat passes as Iwa appraises you, and then; “Come with me.”

The hand he places on your shoulder doesn’t give you much choice. His grip isn’t what you’d describe as gentle, yet he’s careful enough to make sure you don’t trip or stumble as he marches you north. 

In the thick of the forest away from the beach, it’s eerily quiet. Every twig that snaps underfoot, every ragged breath you draw; it feels too loud. Out of place amongst the stillness of the midsummer night. 

And isn’t it ironic, that for the first time since you set foot in this paradise, you feel like you’re trespassing?

A bead of sweat trickles down from your temple and your mind unwittingly drifts back to Mattsun and Makki. Are they still swimming with Asuka? Probably, you reason. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly how long it’s been since you left them on the beach, but surely no more than an hour.

And strangely, like water drawn from the depths of a well, an image comes to mind; the four of you standing in the waves, you perched atop Mattsun’s shoulders, screaming and giggling in delight as Asuka tries to knock you down again, two sets of eyes watching from the shore… 

You should have stayed on the beach.

“Can I ask you something?” 

“You can ask,” he replies drily – humouring you, you suppose.

Your lips quirk upwards for the briefest of moments. “What happens on the Lunar blessing? Asuka, the others– no one told me what it was.” 

Iwaizumi doesn’t answer you immediately, but you feel his fingers reflexively tighten on your shoulder. Likely it wasn’t the question he was expecting; surely there were others that you could have asked – but you don’t really want the answers to those.

If you’re being led like a lamb to proverbial slaughter, what good would it do you to know it? 

And yet as the seconds pass and no answer seems forthcoming from your captor, you resign yourself to the fact that your curiosity will remain unsated. You don’t even know what prompted you to ask in the first place; knowing Oikawa it’s probably some grand, meaningless spectacle. Pretty, hollow words spoken only to–

A heavy sigh draws you from your thoughts, and you falter in your step, almost tripping over your own feet in the process. Iwa’s quick to right you, urging you forward with a less than gentle nudge. “Walk straight,” he grunts, yet it lacks any true heat. Anticipation flutters through your veins, and he mutters a soft curse behind you. “Fine. It… it’s an exchange.” 

An exchange? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Your eyebrows draw together, mouth opening to press the matter, but Iwa beats you to the punch.

“You’ll find out for yourself soon enough, now shut up.”

You have no response to that, so you do.

—

The two of you walk in silence for what feels like hours. Eventually, the terrain becomes steeper, the worn path you’re treading twisting and winding, and you realise you must be close to the mountains at the heart of the island. 

As your breath comes in heavy pants, your legs beginning to ache, you can’t help but be lost in the beauty of it all.

The flora’s different here, unlike any you’ve seen before. Flowers bursting from the bark of towering trees, blooms of vibrant hues; reds and purples and soft, baby pinks. Even the vines at your feet curl amongst pretty white buds that gleam invitingly under the moonlight. Your jaw falls open as you gaze around in wonderment. 

You forget why you’re walking, where it is that you’re heading. Iwa’s grip relaxes as a quiet gasp escapes you, and he doesn’t stop you when you stray from the path to take a closer look. You can’t resist reaching out to touch the silken petals, leaning in to smell their perfume. Soft and light and sweet, your eyes flutter shut, a smile creeping across your visage. 

It reminds you of home. Not your actual home – the rundown, tiny shoebox apartment you gave up before you came here – but something deeper.

Home, like the long summer days spent playing in your parents’ backyard. Home, like afternoons curled up by the window, watching the rain come down in sheets outside. 

Home, like the comfort of arms wrapped around you; two hearts beating in sync.

“C’mon,” Iwa interrupts after a minute or so, his voice a touch less gruff. “We’re almost there.”

Dazed, you find yourself nodding, allowing him to guide you back to the path. This time, he doesn’t grab you by the shoulder, seemingly content enough to walk by your side. 

True to his word, it’s only another few minutes before you see it; a wooden villa, four times the size of your own and far, far grander, set amongst a clearing of trees on the mountainside. Confused, your eyes flicker from the villa to Iwa and back again. Gossamer curtains billow lightly in the breeze, a warm, inviting glow spilling from the open windows. Surely this cannot be where he meant to lead you… and yet he merely stands at your side, arms folded across his broad chest, watching you expectantly. 

“You gonna make me carry you up there?” he asks, not unkindly.

Swallowing tightly, you shake your head. 

Another glance, and you catch a shadow lingering by the window. Your heart skips a beat, apprehension curling in your gut as you begin to walk, every step feels less steady than the last. You’re almost glad when Iwa takes you by the arm; if only so that you have something to focus on other than the growing tightness in your chest. The villa, with its pretty flowers and airy, elegant grandeur is far from the isolated cell you’d been afraid of, yet the uncertainty of what you’re walking into eats at you all the same.

Is this where they’ve been keeping Ryu, or has he brought you here for another reason?

Nothing, however, can prepare you for what you find inside. Warm light emanates from lanterns that bathe the room, and your eyes widen as you stare around you.

Strange, gold carvings inlaid with mother of pearl decorate the thick, woodens support beams, a pot of incense burns on a table overflowing with fresh fruit. There’s a jug of the same honeyed wine you’d drank earlier in the night and two cups set on an ornate stand nearby – just within arms reach of one of the chaise lounges.

Iwa affords you little time to gape, drawing you further in. Silken tapestries hang from the walls – you’re pulled along too quickly to truly take note, but the brief glimpses you get hint at a story; a divine being cast from his home, lost and wandering.

It tugs at something buried within you, and uncomfortable, you tear your eyes away.

The two of you reach a closed door at the end of the hall, and Iwa pulls you to a stop, knocking once.

“Come,” a familiar voice calls.

You stiffen, though perhaps you should have foreseen this outcome. Who else would Iwa bring you to but to him? Distantly, you register his grip relaxing, the sound of the door sweeping open and his voice at your ear.

“Go on.”

And it’s funny, you think, how two halves of yourself can be so at odds with each other. Because while your stomach twists itself into knots, goosebumps prickling at your skin, your legs stumble forward of their own accord.

Two steps forward, and your breath catches in your throat.

It’s a bedroom, that much you can deduce from the decor, but that’s not what captures your attention. Nor is it Oikawa, leaning against the bureau with a genial smile – at least not at first. 

No. In place of a back wall, there’s open space, not so much as a panel of glass obstructing the view before you. And what a view it is; from this height you can see the sprawling forest below, the coastline dotted with bonfires and the moonlit ocean shimmering beyond. Where the floorboards end, there are steps, you realise as you unwittingly inch closer, leading to a cascading spring – likely fed from the waterfall you can hear rushing nearby.

How easy it would be to brush aside your worries, you think, to shed your clothes, slip into the cool, calm water and lose yourself entirely. Even amongst all you’ve seen and experienced on the island so far, this is incomparable. 

“Stunning, isn’t it?” Oikawa murmurs, coming up behind you.

His voice startles you, yet when you turn, you find him not gazing out at the scenery but rather at you, that same strange, knowing smile curling at his lips.

“Some days, I admit, it’s hard to tear myself away,” he continues, unbothered by your stunned silence. “But even I can’t neglect my duties for too long.”

You swallow, tongue darting out to wet your lips. Confusion twists through you at the conversational tone, surely he hasn’t brought you here just to chat about the impressive views, yet there’s no hint of disapproval on his face, no indication that he’s anything less than pleased with you.

It’s unnerving to say the least, but you’ll play along with his game if that’s what Oikawa wants.

“Beautiful,” you say, though the words feel woefully inadequate even as you speak them.

He hums in agreement, something akin to pride flickers in his eyes at your assessment, “A labour of love, I suppose. But… everything you see here, everything I’ve built, it comes with a price. You understand that, don’t you?”

“I-I’m sorry?” you stutter.

“Paradise,” he elaborates, his smile widening. “There’s no give without take. Those people down there,” he nods down at the beach, the tiny, ant-like figures still milling about, “the lost, the beaten, the abused – I gave them what they so desperately sought; a sanctuary. A life without struggle, without suffering.” He pauses for a moment, reaching forward to take your hand. You almost flinch, almost skitter across the room to put as much distance between you as you can, but you don’t–

His palm is warm as it envelops yours, a pleasant heat that seems to spread through your veins, easing your tense muscles. There’s nothing to fear from him, you’re safe with Oikawa.

“Aren’t you happy here?”

Yes.

“What about the price?” you ask instead, though it takes more concentration than it should to force the words out. 

Oikawa’s thumb sweeps along the back of your hand. “I never said it was your price to pay,” he soothes. 

There’s something wrong with that sentence, but another sharp knock at the door draws your attention before you can think too hard about it. You turn out of instinct, barely aware of the way his hand tightens fractionally around your own.  

A single finger at your jaw coaxes your attention back to him. “If you built a paradise, wouldn’t you give whatever necessary to ensure it flourished?”

Oikawa stares at you expectantly, deep brown eyes searching your face as he waits for an answer. Agreement would be the logical choice – the one he seems to want from you – but even as your lips part, the only sound that escapes is a breathless, confused noise. 

When you were a kid, maybe six or seven, your parents took you to the beach one day and you waded too far out into the water. The waves were bigger than you expected; all it took was one mistimed jump and you were dragged under.

It wasn’t for long, probably only seconds, and ultimately you were fine – but you remember those few seconds so vividly. The feeling of helplessly tumbling through the water, fighting to break the surface but not knowing which way was up. Your lungs crying out for oxygen, the disorientation and dizziness, the panic.

It feels like that now – like the floor’s dropped out from beneath you and you’re just hurtling through empty air, desperately trying to slow yourself down with nothing to grab onto.

None of this makes any sense. Your emotions are shot to pieces, too many parts of yourself being pulled in different directions and you’re not sure which ones you can trust anymore. How can you be? Oikawa’s still holding your hand, smiling at you, and you just want everything to stop for a second so you can right yourself and breathe–

The door opens.

Iwaizumi appears in your field of vision, dragging a bound, hooded figure behind him. And because this is all some big, cosmic joke, you get your wish. Both of them, actually. 

Time slows. 

Even with a burlap sack pulled over his head, you recognise the man Iwa shoves to the floor and sneers at. 

Hundreds of miles, weeks of uselessly traipsing around this fucking island, and finally– 

Finally, you’ve found Ryu.

There should be relief. Fear, considering his current state, yes, but Ryuji’s here and he’s alive and as the hood is ripped off his head Oikawa squeezes your hand and the only thing you feel is… anger.

Not a heated flash that surges through your blood. It’s slow and seething, insipid. You look at him, locked in place as empty, pleading eyes meet yours and all you can think is that all of this – everything – is his fault.

“Asuka told you why she came to me, didn’t she?” Oikawa asks.

Your brow furrows, why–why is he asking you that now, how did he even–

He slips closer behind you, letting your hand go in favour of your shoulder, his spare dragging lightly along the bare skin of your arm. “She was lost, in so much pain. The physical wounds, they heal after a while,” his voice is right in your ear, a low murmur that sends a shiver rippling down your spine.

It isn’t an unpleasant feeling.

“But the scars inside, well… sometimes those fester.”

Gagged and bound, kneeling at your feet, Ryu doesn’t even try to make a sound. 

He’s thinner than you remember. Face gaunt and bruised; there’s a half healed, mottled yellow one painted across the left side of his jaw, one eye purple and swollen. You glance at Iwa, standing stoically behind him, muscular arms folded across his chest. His work, you wonder, or others as well? You notice the tear tracks running down his face, catching the light of the lanterns, but it’s as if you’re seeing it all through a thick pane of glass. None of it reaches you, there’s nothing but that simmering, ugly feeling in your gut.

Oikawa hums, “I told you that Paradise wasn’t for everyone. It’s a haven, yes, but there are those who simply… don’t belong.”

His body’s so warm, pressed up against yours. Fingertips graze along your side, and this time you don’t bother biting back that tiny, breathless moan. Iwa briefly smirks at it, but there’s no embarrassment. Why should there be? Your eyes flit back to Ryu, bowed on the wooden floor.

Another memory resurfaces; A sharp crack and a ringing in your ears, Ryuji, eyes bloodshot and glazed, falling to his knees, clutching frantically at the leg of your pants as endless apologies spill from his lips. 

It wasn’t him. It was never him. 

“He hurt you,” Oikawa purrs. “He kept hurting you, I saw it.”

The words wash over you like waves breaking on the shore, but you find yourself nodding anyway. It was the truth, wasn’t it? A thousand tiny hurts, piled up on one another until you finally broke.

And you’d still come when he’d called.

Listened to him when he’d begged you not to hang up the phone.

“Iwa.” 

The brunet moves towards a grand chest of drawers pushed up against the western wall. An ornate dagger sits atop, strange and beautiful; the blade isn’t steel or any metal you’ve seen before, but some kind of black stone, the handle intricately carved ivory. You hadn’t even noticed it before, Oikawa’s room filled to the brim with odd trinkets and treasures, but now that you have, it’s hard to tear your eyes away.

Iwa takes it and carries it over towards the two of you, holding it with the utmost care. 

“Obsidian,” Oikawa informs you as he accepts the blade from his friend, bringing it in front of you both to show it off. “Pretty, isn’t it?” And while you can’t see his face, you can hear the smile in his tone.

He isn’t wrong though. 

Ever so carefully you reach out, the soft pads of your fingertips running along the obsidian surface, surprisingly cool to the touch. The razor sharp edges – wavy and asymmetrical, leading to a tapered point – you’re careful to avoid, almost positive you’d draw blood with the slightest touch. 

“Take it,” he urges, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. 

Obediently, you turn your hand over, your fingers wrapping around the hilt when he presses it against your palm. And as long fingers curl around yours, you idly wonder how old the dagger is – there’s not so much as a scratch on it, yet there’s something about the weapon in your hand that feels ancient. It thrums under your combined touch.

Oikawa jerks his chin at Iwa, and with a short nod and one last, lingering glance cast your way, the latter exits once again. 

Leaving you and Oikawa alone with Ryuji.

“It’s almost time,” he remarks – though time for what, you’re not entirely sure. His lips press against your hair, his arm dropping from your shoulder to your waist, drawing you flush against him. “I know why you came to me, the lies that led you here.”

Both of you turn your attention back to Ryuji at that, the bound man now shaking with the force of his muffled sobs, snot dripping from his nose. That bitter resentment rears its ugly head again, soothed only by Oikawa’s pacifying hum, his thumb now rubbing slow circles at your side. “Shh, I’m not angry – none of that matters now. You’ve found a home here, no? You want to stay on the island with me.”

You swallow, nodding your head rapidly. The thought of having to leave now, of being forced out after everything you’ve seen and felt and experienced here, you– you can’t fathom it. You don’t want to. 

Ryuji’d wrought so much damage, but even before he’d swept through your life… had you ever been happy? Were you ever truly accepted – or loved, for that matter?

You can’t go back to that life. You won’t; he’ll have to drag you kicking and screaming from the shore. The Commune is your home, this is where you belong. Here, with Oikawa.

“Good girl,” he croons, another kiss pressed to the crown of your head. You beam at the praise and Ryuji crumples a little further. “Death begets life, you understand now, don’t you?”

You glance at the obsidian dagger in your hand and then at Ryu, beaten and bruised, bowed in forced supplication before you, and nod.

His fingers tighten around yours, “Then do it.”

Leaning forward, you reach for Ryu, fingers lightly trailing down his ruined cheek, curling at his chin to coax his head upwards. He squeezes his eyes shut, pain and regret etched over every inch of his face, but he doesn’t fight you. 

Baring his throat to your dagger, Ryuji’s pleas take the shape of your name.

Muffled, thanks to the gag, but unmistakable. And for one single moment, you falter. 

This… this is wrong; for all his faults, and god knows there were plenty, Ryu didn’t des–

A wave of calm washes over you, allaying your fears, your doubts. Your breath leaves you in a heavy gust, taking with it the tension in your shoulders, and Oikawa’s voice, smooth and honeyed, reaches your ears once more, “Nothing comes without a price, doesn’t he deserve to be the one to pay it?”

With your hand still tucked inside of his, your arm moves with a will of its own; slashing with inhuman grace.

The dagger cuts deep, Ryuji’s eyes snapping open in shock as a spray of warm blood hits you both. He chokes – a horrid, wet, gurgling sound – wide, pleading eyes frantically shifting between you and Oikawa. Every beat of his failing heart sends fresh blood spurting from the gaping wound. It drenches his front, splatters across your dress, your face, crimson pooling at the wooden floorboards at his knees. His mouth falls open and shut, trying and failing to form coherent sounds and you just stand there and watch, the dagger hanging limply at your side.

It doesn’t take long; seconds at the most. 

Ryuji’s slumps to the floor, his body finally growing still as the light fades from his eyes. There’s a beat of absolute silence, and then–

Oikawa shudders behind you, a strangled, drawn out moan leaving his lips. You try to turn, but his arms lock around you, every muscle tensing, his back arching. The dagger in your hand grows hot, burning the soft skin of your palm, but with his fingers still tightly entwined with yours you can only whimper and endure it.

With a hoarse, guttural roar, a pulse of pure energy surges through the room like a shockwave. Every cell in your body lights up, electrified, buzzing; a dizzying euphoria unlike any you’ve felt before coursing through your blood. 

Across the island, voices cry out in delight, a symphony of life. The trees tremble and shake, invigorated and renewed, fresh buds bursting from the forest floor, blooming under the light of the full moon.

The harvests flourish, even the river swells in response to the call.

Death begets life, just as he promised.

And with every inch of your body alight and singing with pleasure, you can barely think much less protest (and why would you want to?) as Oikawa roughly yanks you around, hungry lips crashing against your own as his fingers pull and tear at your bloodstained dress. He wastes no time with foreplay, and you suspect only begrudgingly takes a moment to hoist you up against him and carry you to his bed.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he hauls your hips to his, sheathing his cock inside of your warm, tight cunt with one savage thrust, but you don’t care.

Not as you cling to him, fingernails raking along his shoulders as he presses your thighs further apart so he can fuck you deeper. It’s hard and rough and brutal, yet you moan for him all the same, his name a prayer swallowed up by feverish, claiming kisses.

Tonight, bathed in blood and the soft glow of moonlight, you offer your god everything.

—

“Look, look!” 

A small hand tugs at your skirt, and you glance down to find a little girl with pretty, dark curls holding up a crown of woven flowers.

“Do you like it?” she asks. 

Carefully, you take it from her, bringing it closer to examine. She watches you intently as you study it, lifting it this way and that to appraise her work, humming thoughtfully for good measure. “I think it’s beautiful work,” you tell her after a long enough pause, and you can’t help but smile at the way she lights up, preening under your praise. “Why don’t you go show your mama? I’m sure she’ll be very impressed.”

The girl nods rapidly, thanking you before skipping off in the direction of her parents. The sun’s hanging low in the sky, the fires already being readied for the night ahead. You’re not unaware of the watchful gaze that carefully monitors your every move, and the moves of anyone who ventures too close by. Soon enough, you’ll return home to the heart of the island – anticipation fluttering in your belly at the thought of what awaits you – but for now, you let your feet sink further into the sand, closing your eyes as you bask in the lingering warmth of the setting sun.

At least until the sound of your name being called draws you back to the present. Yet it’s not Iwaizumi approaching, but rather Makki, two strangers trailing along behind him. 

“Thought I’d find you here,” he grins, throwing a casual arm over your shoulders. “This is Kaneo,” he gestures to the man, “and his wife Manaka. They arrived this morning, I’ve been showing ‘em round.”

You turn to the couple, smiling sweetly as you extend a hand, “Welcome to the Commune.”

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Star Wars Wednesday

(This is an excerpt from my unfinished but fully outlined Reign of Vader fic, in which Darth Vader assassinates Palpatine and then finds out that unfortunately this means he actually has to rule. After Luke is captured by the Empire, Vader reveals both his heritage and a desire to fix things in the galaxy. Luke is wary, but it's not like he has anywhere to go)

Darth Vader was not a man of infinite patience, and the Ruling Council was growing ever nearer to discovering the limits of his tolerance. 

"Day-to-day procedures are a delicate matter, Majesty," Greejatus was saying, "It would be an unprecedented disaster to force change upon all offices all at once. May I recommend a gradual shift as your reign takes root?"

"Yes yes," Sate Pesage agreed. His eyes glittered out of his gaunt face with ambition. "This proposal to outlaw slavery, for instance-"

"-Is non-negotiable," Vader interrupted. "It was an idiot's decision to legalize it in the first place. My empire will have no need of slave labor."

"Of course!" Pesage bowed. He was beginning to sweat under that ridiculous hat of his. "We are eager to begin this journey into the future your reign promises, Majesty. But the galaxy is vast. Perhaps it is best to...phase the law in slowly? It takes time to bring new ordinances all the way to the Outer Rim."

Vader had heard quite enough for one day. 

"Enough. The decree goes into effect tonight." 

He stood, and all five members of the Council jumped a little. 

"You have until then to review the revised legal codes I have provided for you."

[[MORE]]

With a sardonic lilt to his voice, he added, "The rule of the Grand Vizier through the Moffs has ended, gentlemen. If you do not feel that you are adequately prepared for the task ahead, I will accept your resignation and begin the process of finding your successor."

He waved a hand. "In the next week, we begin hearings for the Alderaanian Massacre. You are dismissed."

There was a certain satisfaction in watching Palpatine's five advisers bowing and trembling on their way out. After decades of putting up with their snide comments and inane commands, it was nice to see the shoe on the other foot for a change.

Of course, they hadn't covered much. Just an overview of what the Imperial Ruling Council actually did. Once Vader mentioned that he intended to sell his secondary residence in the district and distribute the funds as reparations, the meeting had devolved into excuses and protests for the next two hours. Luckily, he was far too stubborn to pay any attention to their complaints.

While he had no strong feelings about most of his actions in the last nineteen years, neither hatred nor regret, he was willing to acknowledge that not all of his targets had been legitimate in a military sense. For Padme's sake, he would make amends if possible. 

Naturally, it was uncomfortable to try putting a price on life. But the sale of that ridiculous "castle" Palpatine insisted on him staying in would provide a good starting place.

It took about fifteen minutes of calculating, but ultimately Vader decided there was more than enough in Palpatine's personal accounts to cover about 17,000 wrongful death settlements, with additional funds in the cases of recurring medical bills. 

Arranging reparations for Alderaan would take more work. Vader quickly decided he was going to delegate that to the department of finances.

(They...did have a department of finances, didn't they? Surely Sidious hadn't done his own bookkeeping.)

With that settled, Vader's itinerary consisted primarily of a meeting with the Hands to make sure they knew their boundaries. After that, a remote consultation with a newly-renowned surgeon living in one of the lower districts. It would, unfortunately, take up the majority of the day. But for now, at least, he had two hours to himself.

The emperor closed his eyes and stretched out with his senses. It took several seconds before he was able to pinpoint his son's location. Luke's presence was dimmed, slightly. Muffled.

The reason for this became apparent the moment Vader found him.

Inside the library, on the lower level, Luke was sprawled across one of the ridiculous armchairs the nobles had favored. A book lay open on his chest, rising and falling gently. A small stack of texts encompassing everything from speeder repair to adventure novels sat on the floor, just next to where one of Luke's hands dangled off the edge of the arm rest. Clearly, he had been in the library for several hours before falling asleep. 

Sleep had softened the boy's features, painting him in a far more vulnerable light. The fear and caution of the previous night had been wiped away, leaving someone who seemed far too young, and far too small. How could he be twenty? How could Padme's baby already be twenty? 

It was tempting to leave him there. To let him sleep. But the chair was not the most supportive frame, nor was the library the most secure chamber of the palace. Reluctantly, Vader bent to touch Luke's cheek. 

"Luke," he said quietly, "This is hardly an appropriate place to sleep."

Luke's eyelids fluttered, but he did not fully awaken at once. Carefully, ever so carefully, Vader took hold of Luke's shoulders and guided him back into an upright position. 

"Your spine will thank me later," he said. 

Luke shifted, then opened his eyes with a groan. He didn’t seem to register Vader’s presence at first. One arm stretched up over his head, and the other came up to rub at his eyes.

“What time is it?” he yawned.

“Nearly noon,” answered Vader. The meeting with the Council had taken far longer than he would’ve liked. “Are you hungry?”

With a garbled sound, Luke waved a hand from side to side. “Don’t know yet?” he said in a still sleep-slurred voice.

After a few more seconds, he finally noticed just who had woken him. Instinctively, he straightened his spine, and looked a little bit nervous.

“Oh,” he said, very quietly. “H-hello, Father.”

“Hello, son.” Vader sounded amused. “Was your choice of reading that dull?”

After a moment, Luke nodded. He made a face. "I know there's supposed to be a famous musical made from this or something. But a whole chapter on how the sewer system of Ryloth's capital city works doesn't seem like good song material."

He jumped when Vader laughed. It was a warm, rich sound, utterly at odds with his austere appearance. 

"Poor boy!" He gently took the book from his son. "That was required reading for our literature studies when I was a boy. I loathed it. Very few of my peers sought it out voluntarily."

"I guess I can see why," Luke admitted. "But it seemed like it was going to be a good story."

"Then you are better served finding an abridged copy, I think," Vader chuckled. "Come. You should eat something."

Luke pushed himself up out of the chair. “Do I...need to put the books back?”

Vader leaned back on his heels. He looked at the books, then at the shelves. “I...will leave that to your best judgement. I do not know where you got them from.”

It was such a normal sounding conversation! Why?! 

Why did you have to be like...like this?! Luke fought a surprising burst of frustration. I have no idea how to talk to you! 

Serious and formal one moment, then laughing the next? Vader? Laughing?! It was as if the man he’d met on Cymoon and the man idly examining his stack of books were two completely different people.

Luke set the books on the console with the Holonet terminal eventually. Vader had suggested that he learn the cataloguing system of the room at a later time. At least that seemed to mean that he would be allowed to go back to the library again. Luke thought about his conversation with Artoo. Perhaps his father was trying to be kind to him. Whether that kindness would extend to anyone else was a different matter.

“I thought you were still meeting with dignitaries or something,” Luke said.

He trailed along behind Vader up an ornate staircase with his hands in his pockets. He was still uncomfortable walking too closely to the man. For all that he acknowledged that the new emperor was, indeed, his father, he was still a force to be reckoned with. 

Luke took a moment to internally groan at his unintended pun. Han would probably have elbowed him in the ribs for saying something like that. Chewie would think it was hilarious. 

Luke’s attempt to stay safely out of range failed quite suddenly. Vader deliberately slowed his steps so that Luke couldn’t hang back without being extremely obvious about it. He didn’t want to offend the emperor, so he tried to ignore his fight or flight instincts shaking his insides and kept pace with his father.

“I have several more meetings to endure today,” Vader said casually. “But the most onerous of those has been dealt with.”

This was not quite true. The Ruling Council was too full of Palpatine loyalists. Just intimidating them into compliance would only work for so long. They had connections, and they had money, and that could prove to be a headache if not dealt with sooner. Vader needed to replace at least three of them.

He had almost considered appointing Luke as Vizier in Amedda’s place, but had quickly thought better of it. Such a position would almost guarantee that Luke would never have time to fly again. Cutting a Skywalker off from the stars for good seemed too cruel. 

His son had not had the childhood he could have had if his mother had lived. If Palpatine had died much sooner. Let him enjoy his youth while he could.

But the problem of finding a Ruling Council that Vader could trust would still be waiting.

“The stupid hat club, right?” Luke asked.

He was unsettled by Vader’s proximity. Vader could sense that. He understood: the armor had been made to terrify. Perhaps one day he would have the option of seeing his son with his own eyes, but for now the boy would have to acclimate himself to the sight.

It was not often that Vader found himself cursing the cold, impersonal nature of his mask. He would have liked to smile at his son.

“Yes. The...stupid hat club.” He settled for letting his amusement be clearly heard in his voice. “That is not an inaccurate description. They run the day-to-day matters of ruling an Empire. But as they were all close to the former ruler, I find that I’d rather not trust them in matters of delegating governance.”

Luke grimaced. “That doesn’t sound like a good idea,” he agreed.

[gvssdee]

we can't. | vera farmiga x fem!reader

The town didn't look any different the last time she'd seen it, it was still dark yet somehow full of colors at the same time. A mystery she'd never quite solved, not that she ever had the time to.

Perhaps she could have. [Y/N] thought. Had it not happened. Or rather, had she not happened.

It's been atleast half a year, and most of the people she knew in the town had either fled to another country or are unable to greet her with all their family stuff. Still, she could've appreciated if not a grand welcome— a welcome.

Nonetheless, [Y/N] made her way to the familiar right corner, the house furthest away from others. It was getting prepared to be sold, considering no one— [Y/N]— doesn't live there anymore. She'd left a few important things, though. Hence the comeback.

The repairmen were not present today, and the house couldn't be anymore lonely than it already is. Bummer, [Y/N] thought, she had brought snacks incase there was any present. Huffing a frustrated sigh, [Y/N] placed the bag of food on top of a random furniture covered with a sheet. It was hers back then, it came with the house when she bought it, and it stays with the house regardless she left or not.

30 minutes, [Y/N] had promised herself, 30 minutes and she was going to leave forever. Which was incredibly terrifying. 6 months had passed and yet it still feels as though maybe she left her heart with the house. She thought maybe coming back would fix the hole of unsatisfaction, she thought maybe seeing the house empty and getting repaired for another person to live in would leave her satisfied with her choice.

It didn't.

"And here I thought you were never coming back."

[Y/N] jumped a few feet from the front door, refusing to look back at the person who owned that voice. That familiar, soothing voice. Honestly, it never once not amuse her just how Vera Farmiga's voice calmed her during those times.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you." She added, stepping away for a moment before she stopped in her tracks— probably to observe [Y/N] just like how she always do back then. "You look good."

With her eyes still pinned to the closed door of her old house, [Y/N] replied with, "Thanks. Can't say the same to you."

"'Course not when you refuse to look at me."

[Y/N] could feel Vera grin. She suppressed hers, however, not wanting to give Vera any reaction that might signify they were back to being fine— they weren't. And maybe will never be.

"[Y/N]."

"Why are you here?"

"Heard you came by in the town so I... wanted to see you for myself." Vera answers sincerely it almost made [Y/N] lunge at her and kiss her like how she used to. Used to. Times were different now. And the pain Vera caused her still lingered.

"Well you see me now." [Y/N] stated, trying to keep her voice steady and firm. She'd been imagining different ways she'd meet Vera again, and imagined more scenarios enough to keep her from showing any unwanted emotions.

Such as the affection [Y/N] still feels for her.

She sighed at the thought, and came to a conclusion of how coward she must've looked like refusing to see Vera again. But who could blame her? Vera Farmiga had the chance to choose, and she chose him. Despite all their memories in the house, despite all those affectionate looks and touches, all those unspoken words— Vera Farmiga chose Patrick Wilson. Not [Y/N]. And she just needs to remind herself of that as she turned to see the very woman responsible of the pain she's still feeling.

Vera looked... vulnerable and exhausted. She looked thinner, tiny even, and it's only been 6 months. What the hell happened? [Y/N] tried not to react, suppressing any remorse she felt as she looked at Vera.

"Do you want me to go?" Vera asks, voice barely steady. "I just... I never got to apologize to you, is all. And I really just wanted to see you."

"Me too."

It came out of [Y/N]'s mouth too fast before she could even think of it. There's no use crying over a spilled milk, but she mentally slapped herself anyway.

Vera didn't look amused at the response, though, and instead, lets out a pained sigh. "I wanted you. Since from the start. And when you left— I realized I didn't just want you. I needed you. But [Y/N]..." Vera took a step closer, and closer, until [Y/N] could barely think of anything but Vera's warm breath and her awestrucking eyes. Those damned, too good to be true, eyes. "We just can't." It was a whisper, a soft voice pleading for [Y/N] to stay even if her words contradict such pleading.

We just can't.

"I know. I know, Vera." [Y/N] says, her voice breaking each second as she brought her hands up to Vera's face, cupping her cheeks, the anger vanishing as she does. "I missed you."

"I do too. So fucking much I can't help it. I want to run away with you, grow old with you, and perhaps die with you. I want to do that, [Y/N]. I want to do that so bad—"

"But we can't."

"We can't."

Their lovestory had been beautiful. From their clumsy beginning, to their painful ending. And so for the last time, they spent the afternoon together, eating the snacks initially for the missing repairmen and talked.

[Y/N] wasn't afraid of selling the house, no. She was afraid of losing the memories she's made together... with Vera. And as the afternoon passed by, and the moon came lightening up the dark sky; [Y/N] was even more afraid.

"I'm sorry, [Y/N]." Vera started, her eyes fixated on her feet currently swinging to and fro. The couple were on the balcony, the view of the town visible enough for them to admire. "I should've chosen you."

"Yeahh," [Y/N] pursues her lips. "I'm so mad how easily I can forgive you. You do know that I came back into the town telling myself no way am I ever going to do so?"

Vera lets out a hearty chuckle; it was when she scrunches her nose and closes her eyes too adorably for [Y/N] to even comprehend.

It died out eventually, and her face shifted to a sad expression, "I'm so selfish for that. I knew how hurt you would be, yet I still chose him. But deep down, I would always choose you. Even until now. I was just so afraid that time."

"And now?"

"I still am."

[Y/N] wanted to be mad at her, to confront her just how coward she is. But seeing Vera like this; in pain, unable to make a choice she wants to choose, [Y/N] can't be. Vera looked emotionally and physically hurt, just the same as [Y/N] and if not, even more.

"I love you so much, you know?" Vera confesses, biting her bottom lip. "I love you so much I almost can't bear the pain to see you leave again."

Her lover stared thoughtfully at her, and smiled reassuringly. "I will never not love you too, Vera."

[Y/N] sealed their goodbyes with a kiss, and Vera held her lover once more in her arms knowing this was going to be the last time she'll ever see [Y/N]. And that thought just breaks every inch of her. But it had to be done.

In this kind of world, love can't win. Not even the greatest love of all time. [Y/N] stayed for awhile, letting Vera be the one to walk away. Letting herself feel the same way Vera did when she was the one to do so. And as Vera disappeared from her sight, [Y/N] set her mind in winning their love in their second life. If there ever was.

[mystic-deep]

“You don’t know how to beg, darling.” part 2 | Nanami Kento x fem!reader

♡ ♡ ♡ description: Moving to your dream home had been more difficult than you had expected. Everything seems so be going well, until you get a surprise guest.

♡ ♡ ♡ warnings: nsfw, fingering, rough kissing, penetration, shower sex

♡ ♡ ♡ notes: part two is here! hope you guys enjoy it, I know I did while writing it haha and as always it's not proofread so please show mercy.

♡ ♡ ♡ part one here:  “You don’t know how to beg, darling.”

♡ ♡ ♡ word count: 3.3 k

“It’s not too big but it’s not too small, and property is selling like crazy in this neighborhood, so I think you’re making a great investment!”

The real estate agent pulled in front of a modest looking house and offered you a hopeful grin. It had been almost a month since you were house hunting and nothing really fit with what you were looking for. Your dream home was proving to be quite an impossible task – either the property was good but it was too far from the beach, or the property was right on the beach but the house was a disaster. The ones that hurt the most? The houses that were just right but they were over budget.

“I don’t know, I’m not impressed.”

With pursed lips, you stepped out of the car and looked at the exterior wall of the house that clearly needed some good repairs. As you followed the agent through the metal gate and into the front garden, you had to admit that it at least had some nice flower arrangements and sturdy trees offered a pleasant shade.

“It has two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a small study, a large kitchen equipped with all the newest gadgets, a garage and quite a cozy living room.”

As you stepped inside you had to admit that it looked much better that what the exterior had promised. The rooms were spacious enough, the main bedroom having a nice view of the beach and the kitchen was indeed equipped with everything you’d want a modern kitchen to have.

It might not have been perfect, there was definitely work to be done and the furniture it came with was hideous, but so far it was the best you’ve seen. However, just like you expected, it was over budget.

Sensing your indecisive state, like any good agent would, the young woman pushed you from behind towards the terrace. “Oh, but I haven’t showed you the best part yet!”

You gasped, you just stood there like an idiot and gasped as you stepped out on the terrace and looked straight at the sea in front of you. Forget being near the beach, you were literally on the beach! There was a small wooden trail leading to the golden sand and the blue waves, just a minute walk and you’d be submersed in the cool water.

“Imagine waking up to this every morning and imagine reading a book and drinking a glass of wine as the sun sets.” The devil on your shoulder, that’s what it felt like as she whispered almost seductively in your ear. You were impressed with her skill though - she definitely left the best part for last just to give it that wow factor.

Still, it was a going to drain almost all of your economies and - “The beach in front is private, you own it.”

“Where do I sign?”

The agent gave you a tight hug, more than happy to finally be rid of you, and dashed to the car where she happened to have a bottle of champagne prepared for the wonderful occasion. You thought to yourself that she either was so confident in her skills that she will convince you to buy this house, or prepared to get drunk after yet another failed attempt.

You looked back at the incredible blue sea and took a deep breath. It was scary, it was right down terrifying to jump head on into the unknown and with no current financial stability. You still had a regular income from your previous job since your boss pretty much refused to let you go, but you had half of your responsibilities and obviously half the salary. You would be on a tight budget for the next few months, you had to see if the house needed any immediate repairs and you had to redecorate everything inside.

“And when will your husband be joining you?”

You were brought back to the harsh reality by the excited voice of the young woman who was now pouring the cheap champagne in plastic glasses.

“Soon…he still has some things he needs to take care of back home.”

Your heart began to tighten in your chest as your thumb gently rubbed the golden ring on your index finger. You were so used to wearing it that you simply put it on every morning like routine. When asked, you told everyone that you were still married because you felt you would be safer that way and because, technically, you still were.

After your last exchange of messages Nanami had not contacted you once. He didn’t sign the divorce papers and you were starting to think that hiring a lawyer just seemed inevitable at this point. You had been so caught up with the moving and the house hunting that you just pushed it in the back of your mind like some trivial matter that you’ll take care of once you got around.

“Well I’m sure he’s just going to love your new home! Here’s to a happy family!”

You took a sip from the champagne glass, quickly spitting the liquid back before the agent could see you, and looked outside the window. Family…you felt like you were a long way from achieving that, but owning your very own little piece of heaven in Malaysia sure made things easier.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With a sigh you pulled the phone away from your ear as the whimpers of your boss were now scratching your eardrums. “No, I’m not coming back, we’ve talked about this hundreds of times already. Also, please stop crying.”

“And I’m telling you that you’ve offered them too much for such a small quantity of products. Last year when we made the purchase we offered them 30% less, what made them spike the prices so high this time around?” You poured the fresh coffee in your favorite mug and skillfully avoided stepping on your cat as you moved to place it on a tray.

“The bad economy has affected everyone not just them.” You propped your phone between your shoulder and your ear as you dropped a tablespoon of sugar in the coffee and began to stir. “Tell them that you’re going to offer them 10% more than what we offered last year and only if they increase the batch by 20%.” Your eyes narrowed slightly as you placed a book on the tray and a freshly baked pain au chocolat. “What do you mean what are you going to do with the rest of the products? Sell them to your competitors at double the price. Have I taught you nothing?”

Several minutes later, after somewhat managing to calm down the older man, you strolled down the wooden path to the beach where a large folding chair and a small table were waiting for you. You placed the tray on the table, sat down and took in the wonderful view in front of you. The weather outside was perfect and you decided to wear just a light summer dress that was slightly transparent.

You took a sip from your coffee and opened your book, deciding that this was a day for lazing around. It had been more than a month since you’ve finally finished with all the repairs and decorations but it was worth the long wait. Everything looked just perfect now, you had flexible working hours and you even managed to adopt a stray cat.

Yes, everything was perfect, everything was going great.

“Took me forever to find you.”

You looked up from your book and blinked once, blinked twice, and still couldn’t believe what you were seeing. There, hovering above you, stood Nanami with his blond hair and sharp blue eyes, with his sand colored pants and his white shirt with the sleeves pulled up to his elbows, the golden band of the wedding ring shinning in the sun.

“What…How…When…” You didn’t even know how to phrase your shock. A part of you was hoping that you were hallucinating.

“It took me forever to convince your mother to talk to me. Then probably just as long to get her to tell me where you were. She’s not really good at remembering small details so she had no idea what your house looked like.” He huffed in annoyance before plopping down on the sand by your side. “Took me awhile to find the house.”

“How did you get in?”

“Strangely enough she remembered perfectly where the spare key was.” Betrayed by my own mother, you thought bitterly.

“Why are you here, Nanami?”

“Not Kento? From what I remember, you’re Nanami too.”

Your face began to burn with anger and sensing that you were on the verge of exploding, he quickly fished out of his pocket a folded paper.

“I’m not here to fight, I just came to give you this.” You took the piece of paper with trembling hands and opened it. The divorce papers, and they were signed. Finally, your marriage was over.

“You could have just mailed them to me.”

“I didn’t come all the way here just to hand you the papers, I also wanted to talk. You owe me that much after pulling that disappearing act.”

Your first intention was to protest, then again maybe listening to him rather than fighting back would make things end quicker. You offered him a little nod to continue.

“I don’t have excuses for cheating on you. No one seduced me, I searched for someone to bend to my will and I found her quickly. I wanted to feel needed…no, I wanted to feel like I was dominating.” His eyes looked down to his hands almost in shame. “You were working so hard, you were so ambitious, it felt like you could truly achieve our dream…while I had so little hope it was possible, it felt like you would leave me behind.”

You listened attentively to every word, trying your best not to let the anger get to you. Just bear with it, let him say whatever will make him feel better and then you won’t have to see him ever again. Although, now that he was in front of you, that thought was turning to be hell.

“I was jealous, I was jealous of the fact that I was no longer your priority. I feared the day you’d realize you didn’t really need me and that you could achieve everything by your own.”

“So you’ve cheated on me and said all those cruel things because you were insecure?” Your eyes became watery as your hands curled in tight fists. “Is this all you had to say? Because I think I’ve heard enough.”

“I’m sorry, y/n. I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused, I’m sorry for not being strong enough to make our dream come true. That day when you left me was also the day I ended my affair. If I could…but I can’t, so I guess that yeah, that’s all I had to say.”

He stood up and gently patted his pants to get rid of the sand before looking at you.

“For all it’s worth, I really like the house and I like the cat and-” His eyes traveled to your chest that was covered by the thin white material of the dress. “-I definitely like this dress.”

Your cheeks turned pink and your arms quickly went to cover the skin that felt so exposed. Taking advantage of your distraction, he reached for your legs and lifted you up, carrying you princess style, and began to walk towards the sea.

“W-What are you doing?”

You were met with silence as Nanami continued his march unbothered by your kicking and screaming.

“Wait! The water is pretty cold!” Despite your protest, he entered the icy blue water, trying his best to hide the little winces every time a small wave hit him.

“Nanami, if you drop me, I swear-”

“I thought you wanted me to let you down.”

“Oh you’ve let me down plenty of times already.”

With a small glare, he retrieved his arm making you fall unceremoniously in the cold water. You let at a shriek and realized in horror that the divorce papers that you were holding were now being washed away by the sea.

“Oh no, how very tragic.” Nanami’s smirk and sarcasm were the last straw, and you plunged yourself at him, knocking him down in the shallow water.

His eyes grew large and tried to fight you as you straddled him and pinned his arms above his head.

“Move.” His voice was low and dangerous but the adrenaline pumping in your veins made you immune.

“You don’t know how to beg, darling.” There were a series of emotions flashing in his eyes, from shock, to anger, to amusement and finally…sadness.

“But if I learn, will you take me back?”

You looked at him and time just seemed to stop. Right here, this moment, this bickering and playing in the water, this half wet half disheveled man, the way he looked at you, your clothes wet and sticking to your skin, sticking to each other…it was perfect.

Your lips crushed on his in a hungry kiss and he eagerly retuned it. With a quick movement, he wrapped his arm around your waist and lifted your body along with his. Effortlessly, you thought as you your legs wrapped around his waist and let yourself be carried inside the house.

“Bedroom.” You motioned to the small stairs that ledmk to the first floor and he pretty much jogged towards the room, all the while maneuvering splendidly your excited cat that thought it was time to play.

He closed the door behind you before his hand reached for the back of your head and pulled you in for another deep kiss. You both began to shiver, probably from the excitement of finally touching each other for so long but also because you were wet from head to toe.

“Undress.” He pulled slightly away and began to unbutton his shirt, his eyes never leaving you.

“You’re pretty monosyllabic today.” You ignored his annoyed expression and focused on removing your dress, but your hands froze on the waistband of your panties.

What were you doing? Was this enough? Was this all it took for you to forgive him and welcome him back with opened arms?

“I’ll help you remove these.” With a quick movement, he pulled down the piece of lingerie and tossed it on the ground where the rest of the clothes were. You didn’t even realize when he had backed you against the wall, but now here you were, trapped like last time, the only difference was that now you were both very much naked.

He was so close to you that your perked nipples were softly brushing against his bare chest. Slowly, he let his hand travel between your thighs and began to rub gently with his thumb. You inhaled deeply and looked down at his cock, hard and swollen and begging for attention. You wrapped your small hand around it and gave it a few gentle strokes, noticing how his brows began to furrow and sweat began to form on his forehead.

He was hard and more than ready to have you against the wall, and as his finger travelled to your folds, he realized you were wet and needy and more than ready to be taken.

Just as you were anticipating his fingers to enter you, he pulled away and took a few steps back. You were left there, the light of the morning sun shining on your naked body and looked at him in a quizzical way.

“Beautiful…you’re just so damn beautiful.” Your face felt red and hot and the lack of his touch made your body shiver.

Noticing your state, Nanami gently took your hand and guided you both to the bathroom, turning on the shower before letting you step inside.

You left out a sigh as the hot water washed over your skin and glanced over your shoulder as Nanami stepped inside as well, one hand resting on the shower tiles while the other rested on your hip.

“Hard and fast.” He whispered in your ear as you felt the tip of his cock probing at your entrance. “Hard and fast and then I promise…I’ll make it slow and good for you.” With that he entered you with a deep thrust and you let your head fall back in a silent scream.

He wasn’t joking when he said hard and fast, his hips were snapping into you at such a pace you were seeing stars. Your hands fell on the wet tiles, trying to hold your body from collapsing. It had been too long for the both of you so you understood the urgency of fucking you so intensely.

His hand travelled to your clit and began to rub it vigorously, making all your body tremble from head to toe. “Oh! K-Kento!”

“So we’re back to Kento now?”

You turned your head to look at him and arched a brow. “Do you want me to call you ‘daddy’?”

He pinched your clit hard and rubbed your left nipple with little mercy. “Would you like to call me that, princess?” His hand left your clit and landed a slap against your ass. “Although, I suggest next time you put a little more effort into it, just to avoid punishment.” He was grinning from head to toe, the damn bastard was enjoying every single second of this teasing.

Your mouth opened in order to argue back but you let out a loud moan as he began to push himself inside of you even deeper. So close, you were so close and he was hitting just that right spot. The warm water was falling on your already hot skin, the slaps that his hips made against your body were making lewd sounds that filled the whole bathroom, everything was foggy and your mouth felt dry.

“Fuck, I’m so close-” You could hear him mumble some other words but you were so far gone at this point that the only thing that you could concentrate on was your inevitable soul shattering climax.

“Oh god, please, please, Kento, I’m almost, I’m-” You let out a scream as you came around his swollen cock, nearly collapsing in the process. With his hand tightly fixated on your hips, Nanami slowed down for a moment, letting you regain some kind of composer before returning to a fast pace. You were so wet, you were squeezing him so tightly, your little moans and whimpers sent vibrations to his lower stomach, making him shiver.

“You’re just so perfect, my love. You’re always just so perfect for me to fuck.” A few more thrusts and his hands gripped with such force at your hips that you were sure he left bruises. You didn’t care at the very least, not when your husband had just let out the most primal growl you ever heard him making and his cock filled your hole with his delicious hot cum.

You both just stood there for a few seconds, your forehead resting on the slightly cool tile while Nanami kissed your shoulders before finally pulling out of you.

“Now that hard and fast is over…when am I getting slow and good?”

“Always so greedy.” He let out a light chuckle before pressing a soft kiss on your lips. “I love you.” Just like that, he let the words roll out of his mouth with such ease and looked at you with complete adoration.

“I love you too.” You turned around and let your hands gently caress his cheeks, the happiness of being able to say these words again making you feel light as a feather.

“Good, I’ll need you to love me a lot. There will be plenty of other ‘hard and fast’ sessions before this day is over.” And for once, you didn’t open your mouth to argue.

[dennou-translations]

Violet Evergarden Booklet 1

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Index || Next →

That day was a special one for me, but to the rest of the world, this was not the case.

   Ann Magnolia and Her Nineteenth Birthday

   There was a number of things I had to do on the special day called today.

I would wake up in the morning and check the weather. As if a tale were beginning, I would turn the curtains over and look outside the window.

The radiant daylight shone on my eyes. Today was sunny. Knowing that made me happy. That I had woken up enveloped in sunshine. That I didn’t have to worry about my letter getting drenched in rain. It was almost as if the truth of these facts was blessing the day.

——I’m happy.

Very happy.

I didn’t usually say this, but I felt like saying it today, so I whispered as I laid back down, “Good morning.”

Husky with wake, my voice echoed through the quiet bedroom. I wandered around in search for someone to have a conversation with from the words “good morning”. However, I couldn’t find anyone to hear them, so they pointlessly vanished somewhere.

If you were just by yourself, words would die as soon as they were born. I knew that as the truth of this world. Like flowers that withered without changing colors, like small birds that couldn’t endure the coldness of midwinter, my words would promptly die. After all, words were tools for people to communicate their intentions. So if there was no other party, they would all but die. That was evident.

There was no one who would reply to me with a “good morning”. There was no one in this house that would do a morning greeting, so if anyone were to say that this much was obvious, it sure was. But in my memories, someone whose voice I had already forgotten would return my words. In a warm and soft voice that was probably how my mother sounded, they would be returned to me.

“Good morning, Ann.”

——Good morning.

“Today is a special day, huh.”

——I know; I’d been counting them with my fingers.

“Your long-awaited birthday.”

With a nod, I stood up.

Today, I was turning nineteen. Twelve years had passed since I had been left all by myself when I was seven years old. I reflected thoroughly upon that reality alone and proudly.

I left my bedroom still wearing a negligee, heading to the spiral staircase. There were portraits hanging in rows from the staircase’s wall.

“My, you’re going outside dressed like this just because you’re at home?”

Decorated with pictures of family members, the wall used to be terrifying for me when I was a child, but it became less so after my mother was added to them. I would go up and down those stairs countless times every day, but the only spot that I would end up directing my gaze to for a few seconds was the portrait of my mother and my childhood self.

If, by any chance, there was strength to the thing called “love”, I thought, if there was a force residing within love, wouldn’t this image start moving one day, since it was the only one I looked at as if I were yearning for something?

I would end up embracing such fantasies.

“I won’t change, no matter how much you stare at me. By the way, doesn’t my complexion look a little bad in this portrait? I should have had more paint put over it.”

Of course, it was just a fabrication.

Having come down the stairs, I went to the front entrance, its door a little worn-out. I should call a repairer. The house was a living being just like me, and since it was already quite old, it was always broken somewhere.

“I also want you to tend to the garden. When was the last time you held a broom?”

As I came outside, I could see this place’s whole scenery. There was nothing but lush grassland and tree-lined roads. The idyllic sight was awfully boring, but above that, it was beautiful, so if you made a frame with your fingers, you would immediately have a scenic picture. In this entire area, there were no other houses in sight. Of course. This territory was under the control of the Magnolias, hence this view belonged to me, the family head.

As long as I didn’t sell or give it away, this landscape would never change. And, same as the previous family heads, I didn’t wish for it to change. Neither did I wish to leave this place. Even if I was all by myself.

“Ann, let’s take a look inside the mailbox.”

I took a look inside the mailbox. Perhaps because it was still early in the morning, there was nothing in it yet.

“It’ll surely be coming soon.”

Today was the day when I, Ann Magnolia, was born. Every year on my birthday, I would get letters from my late mother. Letters from my mother, who by now had become a portrait, would be delivered to me.

“There is no such thing as a letter that needn’t be delivered, Milady.”

To be precise, letters with my mother’s feelings blown into them and ghostwritten by an Auto-Memories Doll would be delivered to me. It was a strange story, but a true one.

“Auto-Memories Doll”. Long had passed ever since this name caused a stir.

The creator was an authority in the field of mechanical dolls, Professor Orlando. His wife, Molly, was a novelist, and all had begun with the posterior loss of her eyesight. He then invented a machine to perform ghostwriting for his beloved wife and named it Auto-Memories Doll. Nowadays, people who worked as ghostwriters were also called Auto-Memories Dolls.

When I was seven, my mother, who was plagued with a serious illness, summoned a beautiful blue-eyed Auto-Memories Doll to our manor. She made her write several letters and hired a postal company to deliver them to me even after her death. She had been secretly planning out a few decades worth of birthday messages for her beloved daughter.

The person who had made this request was an oddball, but the ones who had accepted the job were quite odd themselves. Had they not imagined that someone would abandon it at some point? Had they sealed the contract for such a heavy, troublesome work without any refusal because they were horribly bad at their business, or was it because they were too nice? Having grown into a creditable lady and come to understand the world to a certain extent, I would ponder about such things. Surely, it was because they were nice. Thanks to them, even though I didn’t have a single relative now, at least on my birthday I could recall what being loved by someone felt like.

Just like that, I stood fidgety in front of the mailbox. Closing my eyes, I cleared off the dust on the box of my memories.

——I remember. That she had come around. That she would be over there, quietly writing letters. I remember the figure of that person and of my smiling mother. Surely, until I died...

That few-days’ time had been seared into my mind. Back then, my... Back then, Ann Magnolia’s frizzy hair was still short, and she was selfish and pretended to be taller. She was a helpless child. A very young one. How old she was? Seven years old. An age where one would still long for their mother. Her mother was the center of the world. If her mother died, she wouldn’t even be able to breathe. She was that kind of child. She was aware that her emotions were unstable and that she tended to act a little rashly.

Most people would treat someone like me nicely, and that was it. People who had their eyes on my fortune attempted to get close to me, but once they noticed that I had no intention to let them do so, they never showed their faces to me again.

That person—that person... Violet Evergarden. That Auto-Memories Doll was a bit different from other people, I thought...

Whenever I wondered what was so different about her, I would find myself thinking.

Back then, Ann Magnolia had fallen in love with a mysterious girl who had come around all of a sudden. It was a little girl’s romantic love out of adoration. She both hated and liked the Auto-Memories Doll who had come around out of the blue and stolen her time with her mother.

——What was it that I liked about her?

She was a taciturn and unsociable. A silent porcelain doll. She seemed extremely adult-like. But looking back, she often reacted like a child who knew nothing. Even when I gave her dolls, she didn’t know how to play. Neither did she have any knowledge of how to solve riddles. Even when I made her touch bugs, she never ran away like my mother or our maid. Whenever I invited her to join hands and spin around, we would do it to no end.

“Fufu...”

She was a weird person. Yes, a weird one.

Children would look at adults and measure them by whether they were scary or foolish, would be their allies or enemies, would give them candy or not, and other such things. They would stare very, very fixatedly and judge the grown-ups.

She... that beautiful Auto-Memories Doll... Violet Evergarden was not an adult.

——Yes, she was... how should I put it? She was Violet Evergarden.

Which was why I had snuggled up to her, the same type of person as myself, just like two cats nestling close to each other, I thought.

She was a beautiful child. A beautiful beast. I found her eccentric self to be cool, so I liked her.

Where was she now and what was she doing, I wondered.

I was turning nineteen, but back in the day, she must have been younger than I am now. For her to have prosthetic arms, it wasn’t hard to imagine what had happened to her at the time, when the war had just ended. But surely, there was no doubt that her life had been full of many more ups and downs than the story I had in mind.

Did she not express her emotions enough because she was carrying some sort of wound in her heart? She was such a beautiful person, so she must have won over the heart of some wonderful person by now...

I shook my head left and right. I mustn’t have unjust suspicions of her. I shouldn’t prod into how I was back then – into the Ann Magnolia of back then – and taint it. Even if it was just me with myself, I mustn’t do that. Because all of the joys and sorrows from that time belonged to the old me, who had endured those days. Having become an adult, I shouldn’t have any say over the mental landscape of my old self, as a third party.

Having grown up, I observed my own land, which spread out endlessly. The scent of gently swaying grass and flowers, the chattering of birds, the clouds that moved slowly in the blue sky. It felt like they would be here just like that for a hundred more years.

“It’s not coming, huh. Let’s go eat breakfast.”

Since the postman wasn’t showing up, I had no choice but go back into the manor.

I had been working at home lately. I used to go outside and enjoy the world when I was a student, but I realized that, in the end, I liked being in my house. Maybe this was a Magnolia bloodline thing.

As for my from-home job, I worked with legal counseling. When I was little, I had experienced disputes amongst my own relatives over me and my assets. That was the reason why, if I had to give any.

My mother had left me with a talented legal advisor. A person of outstanding character, who still concerned himself with me even now. As a young child, I excelled at catching insects that I had never seen before, but I didn’t have the means to oppose to the people who wanted to steal this land from me one way or another.

I had started off working at the city’s legal information center, introduced to me by the legal advisor, who had taken me in, and only recently had I become independent. Living in the city had made me realize many things. That there were many people in this world who weren’t protected like me. And that this wasn’t something those people themselves wanted, but things had turned out in such a way due to the environment they were in.

The ascension of the ghostwriting business had a similar background. Children would be made to work like adults, unable to go to school, so when they grew up and had to sign any documents, they couldn’t even write their own names.

People like that, who had been raised in environments where no one helped them, weren’t a rarity. I had heard that the literacy rate was currently rising, but it would still take a long time for this to become something unusual.

Just like with ghostwriting, one could become somebody’s ally through the law. It was especially necessary for children who had been thrown out like me and younglings who were about to enter the world of adults, I believed. Because they could earn completely different futures as a result if they acquired knowledge.

“The law is a weapon,” my legal advisor would say. I agreed with that. My property had been protected by this weapon many times. Some people would say that education was the weapon, but the situations for putting it to use were too limited. Weapons exerted their true value exactly when you had to protect yourself from falling victim to unjust acts or insults.

If possible, I wanted to be someone who could protect others. I wanted to tell people who didn’t know what to do and had become incapable of even walking on their own, “It’s all right; I’ll be your ally”. Because I wanted someone to do that for me back when I was alone.

My reason for choosing law was rooted in this kind of self-righteous way of thinking.

Since I worked from home, I didn’t earn much. To be honest, people would think that being a professional was a pastime for a landowning wealthy lady. I was fine with that.

The people who came to visit me in this remote place were generally in critical situations and had nothing. Those who had something would go to the city. They would go to the city, bow their heads to some famous person, be served a fine brand of tea... and have a graceful conversation while drinking it.

If I could, I wanted to get close to people, just like her. Just like the Auto-Memories Doll who had told me on that day that it was okay to cry. Even if for self-satisfaction.

Speaking of which, I thought as I checked the calendar. Today was my birthday, so I intended to wait for the postman the whole day and hadn’t scheduled any appointments, but a client was coming tomorrow. I should clean up the reception room at least a little.

“Hey, Ann. It is your birthday, so how about going outside with your friends and having a meal with them?”

I had to sweep the floor, take the garbage off the carpet and dust the dirt on the furniture.

“Even just eating something tasty is enough, Ann.”

Right, I should bake some sweets to serve to the costumer tomorrow. It could also be used as celebration for my birthday.

“Ann, aren’t you lonely all by yourself?”

If I was certain, that person had eaten the sweets I baked when we first met with relish. He had a sweet tooth.

As I recalled the figure of that young entrepreneur eating, looking embarrassed and delighted, a smile surfaced naturally. Out of the people that I was currently engaging with, he might be the one whose visit I looked forward to the most. I did think that men were frowny and sullen creatures, but he was adorable.

I rolled up my sleeves with an “all right” and headed to the kitchen.

   “Delivery.”

As the front door’s bell rang and the voice of a visitor ensued, I frantically flung away my bowl and whisk and ran. This is what happens when you distractedly make sweets for about an hour. I was covered in flour and looking unbecoming, but there was no helping it.

“Yes, I’m coming.”

I opened the door in high spirits, and standing there was a postman wearing the uniform of the city’s post office, which I was familiar with. I was disappointed enough that even I myself would think it was a bit childish of me. The other didn’t see my facial expression as he requested my signature for the express delivery without looking at me, but I wound up having an impolite attitude.

——It wasn’t the CH Postal Company.

My mother’s birthday messages were being kept by the CH Postal Company, a mail company that had its main office located in Leiden – the capital of Leidenschaftlich, a southernmost military nation. Therefore, if a different company had come, then the mail wasn’t from my mother.

“Thank you very much.”

I had received three packages. One was a table clock from my legal advisor. The others were accessories and a shawl that were trending in the city from my friends.

There were people getting married and having children upon turning nineteen. All of my closest friends had been quick to marry. Both my opinion that secluding themselves in their homes was a waste in this era of professional women and my envy at the fact that they had found themselves a partner in an early stage of their lives coexisted in the depths of my mind.

“You don’t have to hurry; if you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to.”

Having lost my mother, with this vast land and this manor of excessively elegant exterior in my possession... I couldn’t think that having a family wouldn’t be a good thing.

——Family... family... family, huh?

Did I want a family? Did I really? Those genuine questions surfaced in my mind first-thing.

Welcoming a family would mean welcoming that person’s life. It was an extremely heavy choice. “In health and sickness,” people would lightheartedly say. I believed there were actually few people who properly understood it.

My friends who had married. The people who walked around the city. Lovers and family members from all over the world – everyone. Did they all truly understand? They only looked on the happy side, so could they endure it when a sad scenario arrived upon them? Wouldn’t they end up thinking that not loving the other person would have been better?

“Human beings are creatures that love others in pursuit of happiness, Ann.”

In my experience, since I had seen off the person who was most important to me, the truth was that I didn’t want to go through it ever again. Being told to do it one more time was too hard. Even twenty years later, painful things would be painful.

I brought my consciousness back to reality.

Colorful ribbons, extravagant wrappings and wonderful gifts. As my social disposition was coming to a slight halt, those people were irreplaceable to me. I had to write thank-you notes right away. For these kinds of things, the faster, the better. Because it conveyed sincerity.

I should go back to my bedroom and look for the stationery and envelopes. They were surely somewhere there.

“Ann.”

——Aah, but was it a pretty stationery?

Maybe I should choose a different one, fitting of these wonderful presents.

“Ann, listen.”

They were surely items that took a while to be picked, so I should respond to the other party’s feelings the same way. There were many things to be watchful of here. I had to do it quick. I had to do it soon.

“Please listen.”

Nobody else was going to do it; I was the one who had to. No matter what, I had to do it. I had to taste joy and sadness all by myself and end it fast. Because I was alone. Hurry. I had to hurry and do it.

Nevertheless, I couldn’t move.

“Ann.”

I was in the middle of making sweets, and writing thank-you notes required some preparation. Above all, I couldn’t calm down until my mother’s letter arrived.

Giving several reasons, I made up several excuses not to move.

“Ann... it’s okay.”

I suddenly felt exhausted. Everything became a bother. Even though hands were covered in flour and I was still wearing an apron, I lay on the couch, rolled into fetal position and scrunched down.

Although I had received such marvelous gifts, the feeling of happiness didn’t last. Even though it was something to be grateful for to the point I could be in a good mood the whole day, the feeling of happiness didn’t last. It didn’t last.

“Ann, it’s okay.”

Today was that kind of day.

“Ann, don’t force yourself; I’m sorry.”

——I’m sorry.

“Sorry...”

——I’m sorry.

“Ann, I’m sorry...”

To me, my birthday was...

“...for leaving you behind when you were so small.”

...not my day. It was my mother’s.

——Mom. Why? Just why? Why, Mom? Why did you die sooner than the mothers of the other kids? What is it that went wrong? Did the fact that I was born itself become a burden to you? If so, then I shouldn’t have been born.

I loved you, Mom. Did you know that? I liked you a whole, whole lot. Tired of hearing this? But you didn’t know it, right? Even if you knew, you probably didn’t understand how much I liked you. I’m sure you had no idea how much.

When I realized it, I had more time seeing you in a grave than otherwise. But you’re everywhere in our house. On the sofa that you often sat on. In the music that you enjoyed. On the bed that still smells like you. In myself, who resembles you more and more with each day.

Mom, Mom, Mom – you keep reminding me of how much I loved you. When I was little, you were the world itself.

Mom. You loved me. I know that. But I loved you too. I was the one who... I was... I was... I was the one who...

Aah, Mom. Mom, there are so many things I want to tell you. But if I can say it, there’s just one thing.

Mom, you died without knowing how much I loved you, right?

I loved you much more than you could’ve imagined. I really, really suffered when you died. Enough that I couldn’t breathe.

People often say that time heals all wounds. But I really hate that saying. Rather than things being solved, we forget about them, don’t we? People’s voices, facial expressions, gestures – we forget these kinds of things. Yet I remember them in unexpected times. Like, “Oh, yeah, Mom used to like this”. “Oh, yeah, Mom used to hate that”. And then I blame myself vehemently for forgetting them. Like, “How could you have forgotten? She was your whole world”. Like, “How could you have forgotten? She was your only family”. The loop of agony has no end.

I adored you, Mom. I loved you. I loved you, so for just as much love as I had for you, it feels like my heart will break. It feels like my heart will break every time my birthday comes around. Feels like it will break. It’s painful and there’s no helping it.

Tears slip down my cheeks as I laid on my side. I was looking forward to today so much that I didn’t know what to do with myself, and yet I wound up crying again this year. I would’ve been great if I could welcome it with a smile.

A birthday was a special day.

It was nothing to the rest of the world, just an ordinary day, but it was a special one for me. Because... Because it was a day when I could feel Mom coming back to me. I looked forward to it so much that I couldn’t help myself, but at the same time, I was also helplessly sad. Because I felt my mother’s absence more than anything. Because the truth that she wasn’t here was thrust onto me.

Destiny spoke to me. Either that or God did. “Hey, your mother’s already dead. How long you gonna be crying? Stand up. If you’re alive, stand up.”

Since the world was so merciless, all I could do was nod at those words and say, “Yes, yes, true.”

By entrusting my body to hecticness, I was able to remain as someone who could stand on her own feet, just like Destiny and God wanted. I normally didn’t feel loneliness. I didn’t cry. After all, twelve years had already passed. It was weird to cry like this on and on forever. It was weird, right? I wasn’t a kid anymore. I shouldn’t cry too much. That would make me a bad girl. A girl wasn’t suitable to be the family head of the Magnolia household. I had to become a person who my mother could be proud of from within that portrait.

Wasn’t that right? I couldn’t prove the worth of my existence by doing anything else.

But on this day when I was aware that my mother loved me, I was no good. No good. I’d turn into a mess. The seven-year-old Ann Magnolia would come back to me. She’d say it all. She’d end up saying it. Always, always, always. She’d say what I was holding back from saying.

“I’m lonely”, that is.

I had as many ways of spending my birthday as I had birthdays. Surely, there were millions of people in the world whose birthday was today. How were all of them spending it? Were they spending it in a fulfilling way? There definitely were also people who lived their lives either not knowing when their birthday was or forgetting about it.

So I wasn’t miserable. Nor was I comparing myself with them. That wasn’t it. Because there were certainly people somewhere around the world who were feeling as lonely as me.

There was another thing that I had learned during the time I worked in the city. That loneliness wasn’t something only I had. Many people would come to the law firm and ask for advice regarding their troubles. Everyone was burdened with problems of their own. And everyone was a bit lonely in some aspect. It wasn’t just me, so I didn’t feel lonely.

That person too, and that one, and that other one. Everybody was sad in one way or another.

“I have to get up.”

I had stopped doing what I would do by accident – stopped throwing myself into a sea of sadness. The sea of sadness in my head was a real nuisance, yet it was also comfortable as it enveloped my body in gentle waves of self-pity. But I shouldn’t go too far. Or else I wouldn’t be able to stand up again. It wasn’t like food and sweets would materialize from my sadness.

I counted the things I had to do. Bake sweets. Clean up. I had a number of torn aprons, which I would remake into rags. And then... And then...

“Madam Magnolia, are you home?”

A real-life happening immediately pulled me out of my reverie. I ran toward the front door, from where the voice had come. As I opened the door with much vigor while making extremely improper heavy-feet noises, I found two visitors.

“Hum?”

One of them was... Aah, I was waiting for you. It was a postman wearing the CH Postal Company uniform. He was holding under his arm a letter and a package with what was most likely the gift that my mother had arranged for today.

“Aah, excuse me. Please go first.”

The other was the customer who had made an appointment reservation for tomorrow. A stray young entrepreneur. His finely tailored clothes were easy to recognize as something not order-made and that he didn’t like but was wearing regardless.

Had he mistaken the appointment day?

“Erm, then...”

The two had bumped onto each other at the front gate and both had some business with me, so they were probably conceding the turn to one another. Having been granted it, the CH Postal Company’s postman stood before me, politely giving me the letter and present with a slightly tensed-up countenance.

“This is the CH Postal Company. I have come to bring your delivery... You might be already tired of hearing this vocal message so many times, but happy birthday this year too, Madam Magnolia.”

That was a postman I had never seen before. It was a different person from last year.

“T-Tired, you say... There’s no way I would ever be.”

Still, the fact he was saying these lines meant that the demands commissioned by my mother were being properly kept and protected by that company. That was it.

“Thank you very much. For every year, truly... truly. Please tell this to your chairman too.”

“Y-Yes! Our president is the kind of person that gets very happy at inputs from the clients, so I’ll make sure to tell him!”

I had never met the president of the CH Postal Company, but for someone so young to be talking about him in such a familiar-sounding way, he had to be a wonderful person.

“I’m taking it.”

I signed the acceptance document. The postman laughed as if relieved. Also relieved, I finally looked seriously at him. He was a very young postman. Perhaps from about the same generation as me. The freckled boy looked even younger when laughing.

“I became in charge of it this year. It’s a big area, so I ended up getting a bit lost... I made you wait a lot, didn’t I?”

“Eh, no, no.”

“But you came running as if you were eagerly waiting for it.”

“Yes.”

Recalling the surprised faces of the two young men the moment I had opened the door, I trembled with shame. I was supposed to behave elegant and beautifully as the head of the Magnolia family. Yet I was covered in flour, my hair was disheveled because I had been lying down and I had showed up with footsteps that sounded like the ones of a large man.

Touching my cheeks, which were most likely growing red, I said, “I apologize for showing you an embarrassing sight... No matter what, I always wind up restless on this day.”

“Absolutely not. I’m the one who is sorry for coming late. I have already perfectly memorized the way, so please treat me well next year too.” The postman bowed with a “well, then” and ran toward a parked motorcycle.

After seeing him off, I directed my gaze at the other visitor that had been waiting for me. He, too, slowly looked my way.

“Hello.”

The morning sunshine had disappeared, a dazzling midday light filling up for it. It seemed that quite some time had passed while I was sulking on the couch. With a season of fresh green colors as the background, he was supposed to be a foreign body for me... and for this world of mine, yet he blended appallingly well into it.

“Hello.” My voice sounded a little shrill. “Isn’t there any flour on my face?” As I said this while rubbing my cheeks with the sleeve of my dress, he took a handkerchief from his jacket and handed it to me.

Not minding me as I stiffened up in shock, he said with an earnest attitude, “There is, right here.”

“Ah, all right.”

“And here too.”

“I’m sorry. I was making sweets...”

Wiping myself with the neatly folded handkerchief, it almost seemed like I had gone back to being a child. It was the second time today that my cheeks were dyed red.

“Well, what is your matter...?”

“Aah, that’s right. I was nearby and... hum, I heard from Mr. Robert, the one who introduced you to me, that it was your birthday today, so... though it’s presumptuous of me, I was thinking about celebrating it...”

Robert was the law advisor who had been protecting me since my childhood. Now that he had mentioned it, I remembered that he was introduced to me by Robert. The budget wasn’t compatible with the case, so it had been passed over to me.

——“Nearby”?

Finding a strange point in a part of his story, I said timidly, “This whole area... is my land... You had business near here?”

Silence.

“You’re also seeing Mr. Robert even though you’re working with me...?”

He raised a hand my way as if to ask me to wait and averted his face, looking embarrassed. Had I said anything bad?

“I take it back.”

“All right.”

“I lied... I wanted, hum, to spend time with you somehow...”

“Haah...”

Perhaps having become unable to look at me in the eyes, he kept his face turned away and continued speaking to the direction of the day after tomorrow, “Mr. Robert is a teatime friend from a café that I already frequented... He introduced you to me as a favor... And I heard from him the other day that today was your birthday. Also, I did not just happen to come nearby. It’s impossible to come here without a car or carriage. I do not have much money, so I ended up walking the way here. But it was no coincidence; I came here because I had an objective.”

As I asked, “What’s the objective”, he turned over the palm that had been telling me to wait and showed it to me. That “it’s you”.

I was perplexed. This kind of thing hadn’t happened in my life very often. When it did, it was usually people aiming for my fortune, so I vaguely wondered if he was the same as them.

“Want to come in? If it’s just drinking tea together, then...”

In any case, as the head of the Magnolia family, I had to entertain the guest. After this thought worked its way to me, an alarm sounded in my head that he might deem this as an invitation. That wasn’t my intention, so what should I do if he believed it was?

——What’s up with me? I don’t know if I’m happy or scared.

Aah, my heartbeats were so loud. My cheeks were so hot it felt like they were burning.

——Anyway, I have to say something.

“Hum.”

As I hesitated to speak, he shook his head. “Ah, no. I will have to come again tomorrow, so I’m going home. I have already accomplished my objective.”

“Is that so?” I was a tad out of tune. A little – very relieved.

I observed him while he didn’t try to look at me even a bit. His hands were trembling. Even though he gave off an easygoing impression, he was the type of person who couldn’t hide what was inside.

“I really just came here because I wanted to wish you happy birthday. Just before coming, I hesitated a lot on whether to go today or not... I also don’t have... any presents worthy of a lady like you, so I wanted to at least say these words.”

That sentence surprised my already stunned self even more. “At least these words”, he said. Were there any words that could make his goodwill more obvious?

“I’m sorry. I should have at least arranged something for you, right? Really, a broke man like me showing up out of nowhere... I’m sorry...”

“No, I don’t want material things that much... I prefer this feeling of... wanting to celebrate because it’s my birthday... much more...”

The words cut off midway. What happened to me? Right now, pain and joy were squeezing my chest tightly. It was suffocating.

The easily perceivable love of this person in front of me, as well as his kindness, his sincerity and all these other soft and warm things were appearing in the lonely parts of me and causing me to feel dizzy.

“Ann, can you hear me?”

I had to regain my sanity; I would surely be sober again tomorrow. I shouldn’t open my heart so easily now.

“Ann, please, listen.”

Because the world was cruel. Even if I fell in love with him, sad things were bound to happen.

“Okay? If you’re listening...”

It might be a calculated love; he could just be pretending and was actually a horrible person.

No, I had to wonder about that. It was indeed true that he came the way here on foot. After all, his shoes were dirty with mud. There was grass sticking to it as if he gone through an animal trail.

“If you’re listening, grab onto it.”

Aah, Mom. From now on, I would surely keep questioning you over and over during times like these. Asking you questions in my mind. “Mom, is this correct? Is this the right path,” I would ask. Because you were the only one who had given me love without second intentions. So please, give me an answer.

“Believe in yourself, Ann. Don’t be afraid of love.”

I was sure that the vision of my mother had whispered this to me.

I reached out with my hand. I reached out and grabbed the hem of his jacket.

“I’m going to bake sweets now. Today is my birthday, but I don’t have any plans, so if you’d like, why don’t we eat the baked sweets together outside? I don’t need anything. If you’re going to give me something, then I want just a bit of time for us to celebrate my birthday together,” I told him.

“Thanks.” He was not unkind to my wheat flour-covered hand, grasping it while his face went bright red. “That’d be great,” he said three or so times. The phrase “I like sweet foods” was probably said five times.

I... I found it so funny that I laughed.

That day was a special one for me, but to the rest of the world, this was not the case. But I put in a little effort. I tried making it special on my own. From this point onward, I would definitely keep doing that. I would. I was all alone in this manor. But I was the most special girl in the world to a certain person. It was okay to indulge myself at least on my birthday. I thought this once again reading my mother’s letter later.

Ann, congratulations on your nineteenth birthday. I can’t imagine how you’re doing at nineteen years of age. I really wonder how you’re doing. Are you well? Aren’t you going hungry? I wonder if you became a wonderful lady. Aah, I want to see it. I truly wanted to see it. You have no idea how much I love you, do you? You see, Mom loves the nineteen-year-old you. I’ll love you even as you turn a hundred years old. I can’t tell you face-to-face, so I’m properly writing it here. I love you. No matter what anyone says, I love you. You have the right to be loved. My Ann, be free. My Ann, laugh with joy. My Ann, be happy. My Ann. Don’t be afraid of love.

—From Mom

   “There’s no such thing as a letter that needn’t be delivered, Milady.”

[conradscrime]

Germany’s Creepiest Mystery: The Hinterkaifeck Farm

February 02, 2021 

Get ready for a bone chilling one you guys, this story has had me freaked out for years. Another unsolved, and another old time long ago story, this one really leaves you with chills going down your spine. Let’s get into it. 

One of Germany’s oldest and most terrifying unsolved mysteries surrounded a very quiet and kept to themselves family, Viktoria Gabriel (35), her two children Cäzilia (7) and Josef (2) lived on a farm with her parents Andreas (63) and Cäzilia  Gruber (72). They lived on a farm in a town called Kaifeck, which was outside of a place called Gröbern. 

On April 1, 1922 people in town began to grow concerned for the family as Cäzilia had failed to show up for school as well as the family not showing up to church where Viktoria sang in the choir. Also on April 1, two coffee sellers named Hans Schirovsky and Eduard Schirovsky arrived in Hinterkaifeck to place an order. But no one responded when they knocked on the door and the window, they walked around the yard but found no one. They noticed that the gate to the machine house was open, but they decided to leave without checking it out. When Cäzilia still had not shown up to school two days later on April 3 and the notice of the family’s mail piling up going uncollected, neighbours began to grow suspicious. 

On April 4, 1922 a man named Albert Hofner went to Hinterkaifeck to repair the engine of the family's food chopper. He said he had not seen any family members there and had only heard sounds of the farm animals and the dog inside the barn. He waited an hour, but decided to start his repair, which took him about 4.5 hours. This is honestly so creepy to me because at that point the Gruber family had been murdered and if any of the people who had shown up to sell or repair anything had known they were not only a property with 6 dead bodies but also probably in the presence of the person responsible for it I am sure they would never sleep again. 

So on April 4, neighbours began a search of the family farm to figure out what was going on. This search was led by a man named Lorenz Schlittenbauer who was a nearby farmer. The neighbours found four bodies in the farm, all of which were covered in hay. There were also two bodies found within the house, one being Josef, Viktoria’s son and the other being the maid, a woman named Maria Baumgartner (44), who suspiciously (and very creepily) had just begun her first day on the job when the murders took place. 

The reason the family had gotten a new maid was because the old maid had claimed that the farm was haunted and quit six months before the murders took place. Keep this in mind, it will become important later on. 

What happened to the family was very disturbing. It appeared that on the evening of March 31, 1922, Cäzilia Gruber (Viktoria’s mother) had been strangled as well as received seven blows to her head, leaving her skull cracked. Her husband, Andreas’ face was covered in blood, Viktoria’s skull was also smashed with her head showing “nine star shaped wounds” and she had most definitely been hit in the side of the face with a blunt object. Her daughter, Cäzilia’s jaw had been broken with her face and neck covered in wounds. 

It is suspected that the adults died pretty instantly from their injuries, however the younger Cäzilia appeared to have suffered the most. They believed she was alive for hours after the attack and in a state of shock, so much so that she had ripped her hair out in clumps that were found. 

Josef, the two year old found in the house had been murdered in his cot, suffering a heavy blow to his face, while the maid, Maria, suffered blows to the head. What is interesting is that the killer covered the bodies in the barn over with hay, and also covered the bodies in the house; Maria’s with sheets and Josef’s with his mother’s dress. 

None of the animals on the farm had been harmed, in fact it was discovered that they were all kept well and fed after the murders had occurred which meant that someone was staying in the house, someone who did not belong to the family. This explains why the bodies were covered, so that if the killer had remained in the house for a few days they would not have to directly look at the bodies. Chills. 

The killer also had made meals and eaten in the house in the days following the murders, as well as lit the fire to stay warm. The killer is suspected to have lived in the house with the dead bodies for 3 days. The previous maid that had recently quit, and claimed the house was haunted said she always felt as though she were being watched and constantly heard noises in the attic. Sounds like someone was living in the house with the family, unbeknownst to them. 

The previous maid was not the only one to report strange happenings around the farm. Andreas, Viktoria’s father also had claimed that he had found a newspaper in the home that he did not buy, a set of keys to the house had gone missing, and he had noticed footprints from the woods going towards the farm that were not any of the family members. The footsteps were found in snow, and only going in one direction: toward the house. Whoever’s footprints were in the snow, they had not left the family farm. 

There have been a few suspects over the years, but no one has ever been arrested for the murders. 

Viktoria’s husband had died in WWI and there was always suspicion on who the father of 2 year old Josef was. Viktoria apparently had a relationship with Lorenz Schlittenbauer, the man who led the search party and helped discover the families bodies. Lorenz had publicly claimed that Josef was his child and he had planned to marry Viktoria though Andreas did not approve and the marriage did not happen. Lorenz went on to marry another woman and they had a baby together, but the baby died a few weeks later. 

Lorenz was a pretty solid suspect and police theorized that he was in a bad place over his baby dying so he came to kill the family. They found his behaviour suspicious, he was very nonchalant about the whole thing, however they really did not have much evidence to actually tie him to the murders. 

The also thought maybe Viktoria’s husband, Karl Gabriel had come to murder the family. They suspected that he came back to war and killed the family though they soon found out he had died in France years before. This theory suggests that a possible affair was happening between Viktoria and Lorenz at the time her husband was away at war. 

There was also talk that either Viktoria or Andreas had slain the entire family before taking their own life due to the suspicion that Andreas had violent and incestuous tendencies. There was rumours that Josef was the product of incest and that Andreas was known to have a sexual relationship with his children. There is no real proof of this however, and none of the wounds found on any of the bodies appeared to be self-inflicted so it is very unlikely that this was a murder-sucide. 

In 1923, just one year after the murders the Hinterkaifeck farm was demolished, and the bodies were buried in Waidhofen. When demolishing the house, a mattock was found in the attic and a pen-knife in the hay of the barn. 

The Grubers and the maid Maria were beheaded after their autopsies and their skulls were sent to Munich to be examined, though no new information was found. They were actually buried headless and their skulls supposedly got lost in WWII and were never returned. 

This case remains unsolved. So I’m curious, what do ya’ll think? To me it’s pretty obvious that this is someone who knew the family quite well and someone who definitely had beef with someone in the Gruber family. I think that whoever the person was they planned the whole thing out very well, and had probably been living in the attic of the family home for a period of time (at least coming in and out of the house as far back as six months before the murders due to the previous maid’s claims) and without the family knowing which is perhaps the creepiest part of this entire story. Whoever did it will probably never be known as it will soon be the 99th anniversary of the Hinterkaifeck Farm murders. 

Whatever happened on that farm almost a century ago will probably remain a mystery forever.

[cupcakemolotov]

When Blood Calls for Blood

Hmm. This was supposed to be a mafia story for the AU Season that @klaroline-event is putting on, and instead descended into the depths of blood magic and werewolves, and some horror. Your guess is as good as mine as how that happened. Anyway. Hopefully this still works for Crime week. People ARE murdered.

Here you go. You can read it on A03 if you prefer.

Warnings: Blood Magic, Werewolves, Necromancy, death, some gore but not a lot, discussion about sex but no actual smut in this.

                                                           -

The brandy in her glass was excellent, but she hadn’t expected anything else. Klaus had come a long way from the boy next door with skinned knees and paint smeared fingers. That it’d been nearly a decade since she’d seen him hadn’t changed nearly as much as she’d have liked. Same tumbled curls, same dimples, same charm that lingered like a second skin over the sharper, harder parts of his smile. But now, his thinness had filled out into lean strength and he’d grown into the shape of his nose, the curve of his jaw. 

Caroline hadn’t expected to like the look of him as much as she did after all this time. Had hoped some distance would dull the want that had once lingered between them. She also hadn’t anticipated the way his gaze could still trace against her skin with the same intensity of a touch, but now with a new, markedly adult male appreciation that hinted at all sorts of fun things. Dangerous things, thoughts she’d pushed away much easier with the naivete of a teenager than she was finding herself able to do as a grown woman. 

Klaus had never been easy to ignore.

“Let’s skip the pleasantries, shall we?” She asked once he’d leaned a hip against the desk next to him when she’d chosen not to sit. She didn’t know this man as well as she once had and she wasn’t prepared to be that vulnerable. Not yet. “We both know what you sent Elijah to tell me you wanted. I want to know why you think I should go along with it.”

A hint of a smile curved his lips. There was a strange sort of affection in his gaze which surprised her, in this childhood home of his, this house of horrors that had birthed monsters. She wished Enzo was there, to tell them if there were ghosts. If the rotting bones of Mikael beneath their feet still suffered.

“I’ve missed your directness, love. Most people are too afraid of me to try it.” His lashes lowered for a heartbeat, and his voice deepened. “And far too terrified to offer such blatant disapproval.”

Caroline gave him an unconcerned look. “I agreed  to this meeting because we were once friends. Not because I bought into the spiel that Elijah was selling. I walked away from this kind of life, and I had very good reasons to do so. You know that.”

A flash of something wolf-yellow glimmered faintly at the edges of his gaze, but she didn’t flinch. Klaus was dangerous. So very, very dangerous. Here, in Mystic Falls where they’d both spent their childhoods, it was almost possible to forget the lessons Chicago and New York had already learned. But Caroline had learned to deal with Klaus and his caustic mix of power and temper years earlier. A little of the wolf wasn’t enough to warn her off. 

Though it did intrigue her. Before, his control had been something held together by tenterhooks, his rage palpable. She had wondered if he’d buried it deep in his bones, left it to fester in muscle and marrow, but that glimmer told her he’d made a different choice. 

She was glad.

“Blood calls to blood, love.” There was something in his voice, a note that was sharp and apologetic both. “And you are Bill Forbes daughter.”

Caroline wrinkled her nose at the reminder. “I’m going to need more brandy if that's the angle you're taking. Thankfully, he only provided half my genetics, and none of my looks.”

The hard line of his shoulders eased, her words answering some unspoken question. “I know.”

Her expression sharpened. She did not like that he was able to read her so well. “If you’re not going to get to the point, I will leave.”

His laugh was soft, and unexpected. And it did nothing to lessen her mad. Reaching up, he briefly rubbed his neck and when his gaze returned to hers. The blue was gone, awash with gold and wolf. Inexplicably, her own tension gave, if just a little. She might no longer know the man, but she understood the wolf. 

“Elijah says you are well informed of my ongoings.”

She rolled her eyes. “As if that’s hard. A werewolf with the bad taste to be born to a witch, and who the poor manners of eating other witches is not, exactly, an unknown creature in the local gossip. Mystic Falls does so love it’s little horrors. It’s not like it’s hard to figure out where you’re going or where you’ve been.”

His dimples creased his cheeks. “That’s true. And yet, here you are.”

The implied threat was said teasingly. Caroline deliberately took a sip of her brandy. “If your wolf had wanted me dead, it would have made the attempt that when I was thirteen and tossed you three pine trees to save Enzo. If the man had wanted me dead, Elijah would never have sworn a binding saying this meeting was done in truce.” Her smile was sharp. “At least not knowingly. My magic is not kind when it comes to broken vows, and he hates me.”

His gaze narrowed at the blunt reminder, but his voice held no hint of anger. Just a hunting triumph. “I found Rebekah.”

And everything snapped into place. Setting her glass down, she stared at him. “And Elijah couldn't have led with that?”

“He doesn’t know.”

“He doesn’t…” Caroline stared at him for a long moment before tossing back her drink and moving towards one of the chairs. Ten years. It’d been ten years, and she understood everything those words meant. “Fine. I’ll bite. What is going on?”

To her surprise, he chose the chair next to her. His gaze holding hers, he deliberately tipped his knee lightly against her own. “Rebekah is in New Orleans.”

Her brows furrowed and her words were honest as she tried to ignore the feel of him against her. That sparking challenge in his eyes. “But you looked there years ago.”

That slow, thoughtful smile curled on his face again and she wished she hadn’t finished the brandy. “You have been tracking me.”

Caroline sighed and for the first time, looked away. She did not want to speak of the need to know he was still alive, to trust that he’d find some kind of reason after the death of his step-father. The wolf could have easily poisoned the man with its hate as the man could have destroyed the wolf with its rage.

“My father… the things he did.” Her words died and she shrugged. “I miss her too.”

They were survivors, her and Klaus. Enzo and Rebekah, though they were missing. Witchborn and powerful, they were the last remnants of bloodlines and blood feuds that should have never existed. Klaus, with his wolf and his rage. Enzo, with his affinity for the dead and his wicked sense of humor. Rebekah, the living embodiment of her mother’s hopes and wishes, but without the same darkness. And she? She was her father’s daughter, for all the Liz Forbes had done her best to temper it. 

“Then you’ll help me.”

And that blatant satisfaction, the roughness of his wolf in his voice warned her that he thought he had won. She let her gaze return Klaus’ face, and the force of temper clashed against his. She did not like being boxed in. He needed to remember that. “Will I? What I owed you was a blood debt and that was paid in full. What my family did to yours was terrible, but what Esther did to my mother was also terrible. There are no debts between us, not anymore.”

Enzo might argue that point, but her wiley best friend had been missing nearly as long as Rebekah. 

“You’ll help me,” Klaus repeated, unbothered by her irritation. Her temper, the surge of power that came with it, had always bothered him as little as his wolf had unnerved her. “And in turn, I will help you.”

“And what,” Caroline drawled, “do I need your help with? I’m perfectly capable of burying bodies on my own these days.” She wiggled her manicured fingers. “I don’t even have to break a nail to do it.”

That flicker of affection again, tempered by determination. He reached for an envelope that sat on the edge of his desk and handed it to her. “I’d have helped you regardless, but this might make things more comfortable between us.”

She snorted even as she opened the envelope to pull out a single sheet. “Things have never been particularly comfortable between us at all.”

Caroline ignored the deeply satisfied noise he made and looked at the picture. Enzo’s face, battered, bruised, stared up at her and she went motionless at the tangle of anger and fear that swept through her. “How…”

She’d looked. 

“It took finding Rebekah.” A bitterness in his voice she understood. “And once I did, I knew where to look. The scattered pieces of our past are not easy things, love.”

Mute with rage, she glanced back at him. 

“When the Witch Council attempted to end the feud between our families, they were not prepared for the realities of what that would mean.” His teeth gleamed behind his lips. “They were ill prepared for our families' hate, I imagine our cooperation never occurred to them.”

Caroline snorted. They should have been prepared for all of it. Feuding witches were no small thing. Though in her more charitable moments, she allowed that some things just could not have been foreseen. Not the fallout from Ester’s affair, not Bill’s jealousy, not Mikael’s malice. 

Rebekah should have been safe. They should have all been safe. None of them had been. 

“They should have done better.”

His smile held teeth. “Yes.”

It had been her and Enzo, who had held Mikael with their magic while Klaus had shifted to wolf to rip his step-father apart. Enzo, who had commanded the dead man to dig his own grave in the study Mikael had been so fond of. Later, Klaus had opened a bottle of expensive bourbon and they had gotten drunk listening to the sound of a shovel moving dirt.

It had taken hours to repair the foundation with magic.

Mystic Fall was full of so many nightmares. 

Her gaze returned to the picture in her hands. And something turned cold and brittle in her chest. “That is the symbol of St. Augustine.”

“Yes.”

She stood then and paced toward the window. When she spoke, her words trembled with magic. Behind her, the desk shuddered. She hadn’t been this close to losing her temper since the day she walked into her home to find it smelling of blood and her mother’s death. Had found what she had been meant to see. 

 “The Augustine Society belongs to the Witch Council.” Her fists clenched. “And have Enzo.”

She knew the Augustine Society. The horrors the Witch Council offered them. She knew, because her father had also belonged to that society before blood madness had taken him. And they had possibly the greatest necromancer of her generation, trapped. 

Fingertips brushed lightly down the bare nap of her neck. The touch was possessive, careful. An old trick, to anchor her. It made it no less personal. “So it is.”

Caroline closed her eyes. She hadn’t heard him move. “What did my father do, that you cannot claim your sister?”

“It’s a blood bind. I cannot break it.”

“No,” she murmured, letting the soft touches of his fingertips focus her. “You wouldn’t be able too.”

“But you can.” His words were lethal in their softness, coaxing in their delivery. “You're more powerful.”

“Flattery,” she said. Then she sighed. “But you’re not wrong. Still, the witches of New Orleans will never allow me into their city.”

They’d never allow Liz Forbes' daughter in their heart of power. The thought brought a faint smile to her lips. So strange, for a city to fear her mother’s blood.

Strange, but not unwise.

“I didn’t plan on asking permission.”

She turned to face him then, letting the window at her spine hold her weight and studied his face. Such arrogance, but not unwarranted. A full coven might face the nightmare he gave shape too with his bones, but perhaps not. Klaus had cut quite a swath through the witch families in the US. 

His mother’s perfect monster. 

“A blood bind will not be easy to break, not after so many years since it was cast.” She considered what it meant, how far gone her father had been in his madness. “I will likely need a sacrifice, and that is a magic I have sworn not to use lightly.”

“You won’t fall to the same madness.” The assurance in his voice was so, so arrogant. “I will not allow it.”

Caroline gave a bark of laughter. “You cannot know that, cannot expect to dictate such a thing.”

“But I can,” he disagreed. “I’ve seen your magic, Caroline. I’ve witnessed the price of it, the horror of it, and justice of it. Esther’s death was not easy. I know what you are.”

“Ester deserved more,” she said. “But we work with what we have. And I am no longer, sixteen, Klaus. What anchored me as a teenager will not work for the adult.”

Then it’d had been enough to cling to his wolf. To bury her face and hands in the thick pelt of his fur while she rode out the drowning horror, the unrelenting ecstasy of her magic, to let the sensation of fur on skin be the distraction from the siren call of endless power. The blood she wore on her skin.

She’d always liked his wolf. 

Blood magic was dangerous. And witches who practiced it always, always lost themselves. Caroline’s father had been no exception. She would likely not be either. Thankfully, she wasn’t just her father’s daughter. 

“And what,” Klaus asked lightly, eyes deepening to the blue of the man, something as dark as the working of her magic coloring his voice. “Do you need?”

Her nails dug into her palms and she lifted her chin. “What are you offering?”

Klaus’ head lowered until his nose nearly brushed hers, his mouth tantalizing close to hers. “Anything you want.”

Her teeth sank briefly into her lip and she sighed. “We both know how my father chose to feed his need and how well that worked for him.”

Satisfaction and a want so blatant and greedy on his face, she struggled to suck in her next breath. “Steven knew what he was doing when he agreed to join your father’s bed. He was aware of the risks. So am I.”

Her voice shook only a little when she spoke. “Rebekah’s temper is no small thing, Klaus. If she wakes up to me fucking her brother, I don’t think she’s going to be pleased.” 

His hand lifted to curve along her jaw, thumb brushing tantalizing across her lips. “Elijah can secure Bekah, once she is free.”

And Elijah would just love that. “So you are planning on telling him you found her.”

“Of course,” he agreed. “Both he and Kol will be needed for this. Even if only a mirage, we must show the world where our loyalties lie.”

Caroline winced. “They still haven’t forgiven you for not kiling me, then.”

When Elijah had appeared at her home to request her presence for this meeting, she’d almost hoped. 

“As they are not strong enough to oppose me, their opinions of your magic do not matter.” His jaw tightened. “From either side of your family.”

“Klaus…” She caught his hand. “They are not wrong. Blood magic is an abomination, not counting what my mother left me with her death. Killing me would likely make the world a better place.” 

His eyes flared with his wolf, and his words were near violent with intensity. “I disagree. Am I too, not an abomination? You protested quite viciously when my mother attempted to do just that.”

His voice sounded the same as it always had, when he spoke of her murdering his mother. Delighted satisfaction with a hint of growl.

Caroline rolled her lip tightly between her teeth. This was what her mother had never understood. What Esther had miscalculated. This tugging in her chest, as she thought about a world without Klaus. The way he dared her with his eyes and his worlds to repeat herself, to suggest he would allow the world to exist without her. The thing that had left her walking away from him, uncertain what lengths she could allow herself to go to preserve it. 

The boy who had painted her flowers and the man who understood the depth of what she could become, what she feared. 

But he’d found Rebekah. Enzo.

“You understand that if I agree to this, it won’t end with rescuing Rebekah and Enzo,” she said slowly. Likely wouldn’t end with her willing to walk away from him a second time, and the bloody future that promised. “I’m not that forgiving. If the Augustine Society was part of this, if they supported my father? Enzo will want them dead and so will I.”

“Oh, sweetheart, as if I’d object.” His mouth curved. “But why stop there? Not when we both know the Witch Council had to be involved.”

So much destruction. So much blood. Carefully, she reached up with her free hand and traced the shape of his mouth while he went carefully motionless. “It would be helpful, if the sacrifice had a tie to Bekah.”

His lips pursed against her fingers for a moment before he moved just enough to respond. “The Salvatore’s are in New Orleans.”

And that terrible anger, that thirst she’d managed to choke into behaving for ten years unfurled in her chest. “What a coincidence.”

And Klaus, whose monster knew her own, just smiled. “Isn’t it just?”

“How are you planning on explaining my presence in New Orleans?”

Mischief, sudden and startling, crossed his face. “The witches can hardly object to my bringing a date to Mardi Grais. The same as I have done for the past four years, in fact.”

Caroline blinked, and tried not to think about the twist of jealousy in her gut. “I am not pretending to be in a relationship with you.”

“Who said anything about pretending?” His eyes laughed at her but his words were serious. “Shouldn’t you take a man to dinner before post ritual sex?”

She glowered at him, just to be contrary. “No.”

He shrugged, unperturbed.“We’re still sharing a room.”

She choked on a sudden laugh, at how easy and playful he made this. As they weren’t courting madness and the wrath of the council as they freed their family. As if everything was just a matter of them going out and conquering their enemies with his teeth and their magic. 

Simple, really. 

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Caroline questioned. “This… this will change everything.”

Klaus lowered his head, pressing his forehead to hers and smiled, dimples bracketing a smile made of sin and blood lust that struck her in her chest. The smile of a predator well satisfied.

“Yes, I think it will.”

[kanri-tea]

Demon Slayer! AU (Part 1 - The Beginning)

Ramuda and Jakurai are tossed into a strange new world, but at least they have each other. Things are peaceful at first, but not all happiness lasts.

~~~

“I’m heading out!”

“Be careful,” Ramuda hears Jakurai call out from the depths of the clinic, no doubt busy with another patient. The pattering of footsteps could be heard as children raced around the wooden hut, snow crunching under their feet.

“Are you going to the village today?”

“Ehh? I want to go too!”

Ramuda laughed as the Hanako and Takeo whined. It was almost New Years, so going down and selling charcoal to earn some more money so that everyone could eat to their heart’s content wasn’t a bad idea. Even though Jakurai received many donations throughout the year, even his saintly attitude and charity to every ill and injured person couldn’t keep everyone fed.

“No, none of you can walk as fast as Ramuda. He can’t pull the cart today, so you can’t rest while he gives you a ride,” Suzumi, another live-in patient at the clinic, sighs. The man was still lecturing Hanako and Takeo when Ramuda leaves, waving his goodbyes, but well, that was old man Suzumi for you.

As Ramuda walked down the snowy mountain, his mind drifted. How many years has it been? Five years? Wow, time really has flown bye, he thinks. And it’s probably been even longer for Jakurai. It’s strange, to be stuck in the past with only Jakurai.

Ramuda hummed to himself. Maybe he should buy some fresh eggs – along with mochi of course – while he was in the village! After all, Jakurai always did like having eggs over rice with natto.

They’re facing another bitter and angry person with an illegal microphone. They’re always bitter and angry though, bitter at the changes in the world, angry at their own powerlessness. They’re one of many.

Ichiro, Samatoki, Ramuda, and Jakurai are together, coincidentally, when the man attacks them. They’re not particularly concerned, not at first. They’re known as the top hypnosis mic users for a reason. The Chuuoku is invested in them for a reason.

That quickly changes though when Ichiro disintegrates. And disintegrates he does, starting from his feet and slowly moving up until he’s just… gone. None of them know what’s going on, and by the time they realize what’s happening, Samatoki is already half-gone and Ramuda and Jakurai have already begun to disappear, grain-by-grain.

The perpetrator is laughing now, manically talking about his revenge plans about the Chuuoku, but none of them are listening. They’re frozen, confused and, while they might deny it, terrified.

The last thing they think, before they’re completely gone is: I don’t want to die.

“Well, if it isn’t Ramuda-chan!”

“You really came down on such a cold day? Good work, but you’ll catch a cold, and I’m sure the doctor won’t like that.”

“Oooi! I want to buy some charcoal!”

“Ah, Ramuda! Thanks for repairing my sliding door the other time.”

Ramuda took a deep breath, taking in the scents of the villagers. They’re as busy and energetic as usual, he thinks fondly. Maybe it’s stupid of him, but after so many years in the past and out of the Chuuoku’s control and in better health than he’d ever been, Ramuda couldn’t help but love listening and smelling how people lived and moved… Nah, it was probably the old man rubbing off of him. Eew, Jakurai germs.

“Aaahhh! Ramuda, I’m glad you’re here,” Ramuda turns towards the screaming man. Oof, looks like he pissed off the missus again.

“Can you tell who broke these dishes?! Please help me!”

As the man shoved the broken ceramic towards his face, Ramuda leaned forward to take a whiff. Cat, he thinks, and says as much.

By the time he finishes selling the charcoal, it was beginning to turn dark.

Jakurai’s going to fret again, Ramuda frowns as he makes his way back up the mountain.

“Hey Ramuda! Are you returning up the mountain? At this time? You can’t, it’s dangerous.”

“Huh? I’ll be fine, my nose can smell anything.”

“I’ll let you stay the night, so come. Turn back.”

“But –“

“Enough of that! Come here.”

“Ehh? Mister, what’s got you so scared,” Ramuda sighs, heading over to the hut. Geez, if it weren’t for the fact that Jakurai asked him to play nice with the villagers, he would’ve left Saburo in the dust ages ago.

“Demons will appear,” Saburo replies, with utmost seriousness. Ramuda could practically feel his eyes roll back into the sockets of his eyes. Ugh, every time he thought he was getting used to this place, someone’s always there to remind him that this was the early1900s and people were stupid. Seriously, demons of all things?

As Ramuda settled down for the night, half-heartedly listening to the man’s ramblings about demons, he wondered if the man was lonely. Having lived alone since his family died, Saburo must be pretty lonely. Maybe, Ramuda thinks before drifting off to sleep, he should bring some of the kids to visit next time. He’s sure Hanako and Takeo especially would love the opportunity to meet new people…

Everything is dark… It’s so cold…

He’s drifting, drifting slowly in an abyss of darkness.

Where am I?

What happened?

Ramuda couldn’t remember. Something about an illegal mic, he thinks.

He’s waking up, slowly, and when he does, there’s a familiar scent. Who is it?

“Ah. Good, you’re finally awake,” he hears. The voice is deep, yet gentle and soft, and oh so familiar.

Ramuda turns his head to the side, and then he r e m e m b e r s.

“Jakurai,” he tries to snarl, but his voice is hoarse. It comes out much higher pitched than he’d ever been able to pretend. What the hell?

“Amemura-kun,” the old man greets him, but Jakurai looks much, much younger than Ramuda had ever seen. There aren’t any wrinkles or signs of exhaustion and age that had clung onto Jakurai like a parasite.

“I found you drifting down a river,” the doctor explains quietly, “and I took you back here, to my clinic.”

“Tch,” Ramuda clicks his tongue, “who’d want you of all people to rescue me. Why d’ya have a clinic? Thought you worked at a hospital, or did’ya decide that you’re too good for them?”

Jakurai stills, head tilted, eyes scrutinizing Ramuda. He hates how it feels, the way Jakurai’s gaze seems to burn into him.

“… I see. I suppose you must’ve recently woken up,” Jakurai muses, “you should go back to sleep for now. Rest and recover.”

“Oi, you can’t just say that and not tell me what the hell’s going on!”

“Are you sure you want to know now?”

Ramuda gulped. This felt… serious? He nodded. His vision was starting to darken, sleep trying to pull him into its sweet embrace, but he wanted to know what the hell was going on first, especially with the old man.

“… The illegal microphone, I fear, has tossed us into the past. The Taisho era to be exact,” Jakurai informs him, “I don’t know what happened to Ichiro and Samatoki, but before I found you, I had assumed I was the only one here.”

Ramuda’s vision goes black, sleep pulling him under.

“No. Nononono –“

It’s Suzumi’s body that he sees first, blood soaking the white snow. Underneath the man is one of the kids – Tadashi, Ramuda thinks – and their bodies are cold to the touch and lifeless.

“What – How did this –“

It doesn’t take long for him to see the bloody and broken screen doors of the clinic and the many lifeless and bloody bodies littered on the ground.

Ramuda wanted to scream. What the hell? Suppressing the urge to vomit, he searched through the clinic, hoping to find signs of life.

Hanako, Takeo, Shigeru, Yamato, Sen, Tohru, Sora… The list just went on and on, all the various patients who had come to the clinic in hopes of being healed or saved were dead. The many people that Ramuda had come to love and care about in place of his posse were d e a d.

Jakurai, Ramuda finds though, is still warm. He’s covered in blood just like everyone else, but his breathing was shallow. If… maybe if Ramuda could move fast enough, Jakurai could be saved. Sure, the doctor in the village wasn’t as good as a doctor as Jakurai, but…

Ramuda would save him. He refused to let the stupid old man die too.

He moved quickly to travel back down the mountain, the cold chilling him to the bone and Jakurai’s body acting as a dead weight on his back.

How could such a thing happen? A bear? A bear that didn’t hibernate in the winter?

Fuck, Ramuda thinks, breathing hurts. The winter air was freezing his lung, but he had to move faster. He had to continue moving forward.

I won’t let you die, he thinks furiously, I’ll definitely save you, Jakurai.

He’s… tired. It’s nothing unusual, not particularly, but there’s something about this exhaustion that feels different to Jakurai this time though.

Hunger. There’s an aching sense of hunger in stomach, but why?

The demon! Oh… oh. They were all dead, weren’t they, Jakurai mourned internally. Once again, he was too powerless to protect anyone.

“ – hold it off! I – in you!”

Someone was speaking, but Jakurai couldn’t tell who or what was being said. Why was everything so muddy?

As if the world was trying to convey a message, Jakurai felt himself being flung back, slamming into a tree. He’s being pinned down again, but by who? And why? There’s screaming too, but Jakurai couldn’t make out anything. Why... Why were his senses so dulled? Where was Ramuda? Was he safe?

Bam!

Jakurai’s vision snapped back into focus, just in time to watch as this strange man was pinning him down slam the handle of the katana (what the hell, a small part of his mind whispers, how the fuck does this kid have a katana) onto Ramuda’s back.

As Ramuda’s axe swung towards the man, Jakurai quickly spun into action, breaking free of the man’s hold, and making a grab for the fallen pink-haired boy.

Crouching in defensive position in front of Ramuda, Jakurai glared. He might not know what was happening, but he knew enough that this man could be a danger to himself, and more importantly, to Ramuda.

“I will not let you hurt him,” he tells him, voice hoarse and with a hint of growling for some odd reason.

He hears Ramuda cough, “Finally awake, you stupid old man? Took you long enough.”

Jakurai deigned not to respond, keeping the man within his vision. Ramuda had fallen unconscious, but how did he know this? Everything felt so much clearer and sharper now, his ears picking up even the smallest of footsteps of the critters in the forest to even Ramuda’s heartbeat.

“You,” Jakurai focused back on to the strange man, “Are you… protecting him?”

He doesn’t respond. Was this a trick? Of course he was protecting him. The man in front of him scrutinized them for a couple more seconds, neither party moving a muscle.

“I… I’m going to take a chance with you,” the man slowly says, “but if attack… I won’t hesitate to decapitate you.”

It took a couple seconds of silence, but as soon as Jakurai nodded back, the man turned around, facing a patch of bamboo. With movement faster than his eyes could follow, the man cut the bamboo into pieces.

“Here,” he motioned towards Jakurai. “Bite on this bamboo. It’ll be better than biting the insides of your mouth.”

At this, Jakurai finally noticed that he’d been biting hard enough to taste blood. That was not good. The gnawing hunger was starting to get stronger and stronger, but he now knew better than to fall prey to it. It was a hunger for the flesh of humans, a hunger that only demons had.

Taking the bamboo, Jakurai ripped a piece off his haori and laced it through the sides before securing it around his head and mouth. The bamboo would eventually start biting into his gums, Jakurai realized, but this would do for now. At least until Jakurai had time to meditate and get himself back under control.

“You must never bite anyone. You must never eat a human. If you do, I will cut you down. Do you understand?”

Jakurai pulled out of his thought. Reaching for the bamboo, he moved it aside to answer the man.

“Rest assured,” Jakurai quietly tells him, “My purpose is to serve humanity.”

The man looks startled at the answer, but Jakurai stays firm, light blue eyes never wavering from the man’s darker blue ones.

“My name is Tomioka Giyuu,” the newly named Tomioka tells him, “And when that boy wakes up, tell him to visit the elder named Urokodaki Sakonji living at the foot of the misty mountain. Tell him that I sent you.”

With that, Tomioka began to retreat, leaving Jakurai and the still unconscious Ramuda behind.

“Also, don’t go out in the sun,” Tomioka tells him as one last goodbye before disappearing from sight.

Jakurai let himself relax once the man was out of sight. God, what a mess. Everyone was dead now… And he was a demon? It seems that his original theory of being in the past might not be as accurate as he’d first thought…

But for now, it was time to bury the bodies. If this Urokodaki could help them, could inform them more about this strange world, then Jakurai would go. Ramuda will not be hurt, not by Jakurai, not by whatever dangers this world posed.

Jakurai refused to let another person die, not if he could save them.

Kind, Giyuu thinks to himself as he returns to report to Oyakata-sama. The purple-haired demon's eyes were kinder than any human he'd ever encounter, except for maybe Oyakata-sama. There was an air of kindness and charisma that the demon had that Giyuu had encountered only once before in his life.

It's strange, but Giyuu couldn't help but look forward to seeing what the duo would do. A demon who refused to eat people and a human who swore that he would turn the demon back into a human. Two impossibilities, yet here they were.

Sending them to his teacher was probably for the best. Urokodaki would train the boy to fight demons. The future, Giyuu thinks, might be pretty interesting.

[padfootagain]

Cold Weather But Warmer Hearts

Happy New Year everyone! Here is a little something to start our year! A little one-shot for Ahsoka! Mention of injuries although nothing graphic, but be careful if it bothers you!

I hope you all like this piece!

Pairing: Ahsoka Tano x Reader

Word Count:  2301

"Ahsoka…"

"Y/N, we need to go on…"

"I can't…"

"Of course, you can. The troopers are after us, we need to go."

"I'm so tired…"

"Y/N!"

Too late. You had fallen – or crumbled, more like – into the deep layer of snow, your body already starting to be covered by the fresh snowflakes falling from the stormy sky. The heavy clouds up above, mix of dark grey and black, blocked most the light of the sun. Hoth was known to be a mostly-barren, unwelcoming planet, but this snowstorm that had fallen upon the two of you was only making things worse. Ahsoka herself was struggling to keep going, making her way through the deep snow as best as she could, but you clearly had reached your limit. You still needed to go on though, for the stormtroopers sent by the Empire after the two of you were still following your tracks. Ahsoka could feel their presence through the Force.

She hurried back to you, only a few meters behind her, as you still laid down on your stomach in the ice. She softly turned you around, taking your face between her gloved hands.

"Y/N, you need to stand up. We need to keep going. We've almost reached the cave, we'll be safe there."

"What if they've found the entrance…?" you started with a quiet, yet terrified voice.

"I'm sure they haven't."

You gave her a weak smile, but were too tired for anything else, really.

"Your Jedi mojo again, huh?"

"Yes, you can say that."

She was beautiful, all wrapped in a warm coat, a hood upon her head with fur all over the edge to keep her warm, snowflakes caught in the material. And her big, endless eyes that stared at you with so many emotions into them, you could have spent a lifetime simply studying them all.

Fear, courage, determination, fondness…

"Y/N, we're almost there, you need to get up. I can't carry you all the way."

"You should leave me here."

"Absolutely not."

"Ahsoka… I'm just a mechanic, I'm not even important."

"Don't say things like that. Of course, you are important."

"Don't sell me your 'all life has value' speech again, not now…"

"I should though, it would fit right in. But it's not just that. And you know it."

You stared at each other for a while, several minutes passing by while the wind kept roaring and the snow kept falling, and some distance away from the two of you, stormtroopers kept running after you.

It wasn't the first time that one of these moments happened. One of the still ones. Motionless. As if time itself had stopped its endless flow. An instant held in mid-air, fragile and delicate, like a bubble drifting away in the wind. Unspoken words were making their way across the two of you, through emotions hidden in irises and small gaps escaping between lips instead of words spoken out loud. Still, the words were there, between you, and you could hear them, read them through the signs you let out as you grew more fragile and open than normal.

And if it wasn't the same as uttering them for real, still, it gave you strength. And you knew what she meant.

You were important to her.

"Ahsoka…"

"You can't give up now."

But really, it wasn't hard to hear what she truly meant to say.

You can't give up on me now.

And for once, you had to curse these blue eyes you usually loved so dearly. For two reasons, you hated them for a second. First because of all that was left unsaid between the two of you, everything that neither you nor her had had the courage to say in the year you had fought side by side against the Empire. Something that ran deeper than a mere friendship, but that none of you had named nor confessed for now.

It just never seemed to be the right time. After all, you were in a rebellion against a tyranny, you were fighting, you were facing death on a daily basis. It wasn't easy to let your guard down and think about love when you lived through such difficult time. And more often than not, you cursed that day where the former Jedi had walked through the door of your hangar to ask for repairs on her ship. You had been inseparable, almost, ever since. But this ghost still hovered between you, unspoken and often denied even. Still, the feelings were there and sometimes shared through unspoken gestures, and as you struggled to keep your eyes open, the cold numbing your senses but for the vivid pain in your toes and fingers as you moved them slightly, you reckoned that maybe, this time, there wouldn't be any other time to say it all out loud.

And the second reason for you to be angry at this pair of eyes now, was because you had never had the strength to deny them anything. So how could you start now?

You heaved a sigh, gathering the remnants of strength you had left, scattered across your limbs.

"Help me, up," you breathed, and Ahsoka gave you a warm smile.

She helped you back onto your feet, allowing you to lean against her when you finally took another step forward. You could feel the cold of the snow even through your boots, your legs wet with melted ice up to your knee, making you shiver uncontrollably. The wind was violent against your cheeks, spreading stingy spikes through your skin. But by your side, Ahsoka was determined, carrying most of your weight towards a shelter, warmth radiating from her frame even through her clothes. And you wondered if she used her Jedi mojo on you, because her presence by your side seemed enough to make you carry on. Or perhaps it had nothing to do with the Force, maybe it was simply love.

You weren't far from the rebel base, and you needed less than ten more minutes to reach the safety of the hidden passage leading to the compound. Carved both in ice and earth, the complex was hidden from enemy's eyes thanks to its tunnels built through the tall icy cliffs and underground. These days, a minimal team of merely 50 people lived on Hoth, all waiting for a bigger crew to be sent in the coming weeks. But the presence of troopers on the planet would for sure slow down the development of the base.

Upon arriving to the hidden entrance, the guards on duty hurried to help you and Ahsoka inside.

"Stormtroopers were behind us," Ahsoka told them quickly.

"Did they see you coming in here?" the guard, that you recognized as a Cerean named Kidi, asked.

"No, but they saw us and were following us for a while."

"What's wrong with her," the other humanoid guard asked, nodding in your direction.

You tried to focus, but your brain was becoming fuzzy again. More and more so, by the second.

You had spent more than two hours running away from the troopers after they destroyed your transport. And your body was simply not strong enough to support such a chase in hostile weather. Your strengths were fading once more, your weight growing heavier on Ahsoka as your knees were beginning to give out under you.

"Keep a close eye on the entrance, make sure we were not followed too closely," Ahsoka replied, ignoring the guard's question.

You recognized the tunnels Ahsoka guided you through. You recognized the lights leading to the hangar where you spent most of your time repairing X-Wings. You recognized the blue lights leading to the command centre. You recognized the long corridor to your quarters. But you passed all those familiar places to reach the small medcenter that you had helped put together a few weeks before.

Only two months spent at the new base and you were already coming close to dying, you reckoned the odds were not playing in your favour.

Ahsoka, if she had guessed your thoughts or defeated feelings, didn't say a word about them. Instead, she helped you to an uncomfortable bed, a nurse hurried to your side, starting treat your hypothermia. But you were so weak, and it seemed that the bed underneath you had stolen all your remaining strengths, your limbs growing numb the second they rested safely on the bed. Your skin was burning in the warmer atmosphere of the room after spending so long in the cold. You weren't sure your fingers were able to feel the bed under them, and your toes were agonizingly painful in your boots.

But the worst was this darkness creeping at the corner of your vision, more and more as you lost consciousness.

Something warm rested on the back of your hand, but you were too tired to turn your head and look at the cause of the sensation.

"Y/N, stay with me."

Ahsoka's voice sounded far off, shushed by a distance created by your own tired mind.

And it was the last thing you could remember before surrendering to the shadows.

  The sensation upon your hand had not faded.

After being unconscious for a few hours, your eyelids were finally ready to flutter open once more. And as you came around, remembering the events leading you to the infirmary, taking in the feelings around you, you recognized that same sensation on your hand.

Warm. Soothing.

And as you opened your eyes again, you chose to look at what was bringing you so much comfort thanks to a simple touch.

You weren't surprised to find it was Ahsoka's hand.

She gently rubbed your knuckles with her thumb. Soft touch calming your worried mind so easily, it was almost ridiculous.

When you looked up at her again, she was smiling.

"Well, look who's done taking naps when she should be working," she joked.

But you were not fooled by her humour. You could read the worry in her blue eyes, and in the small tremor of her voice. You read the feeling in the tenderness of her tone as well. It was hard to miss.

You offered her the best reassuring smile you could summon, given the circumstances.

"Knew you'd need a mechanic again, you're an awful pilot," you replied, your voice weaker than you hoped it would be, made a little hoarse by sleep.

She chuckled.

"You can talk. You've got more crashes than me!"

"But I do it with style."

"You say I have no style?"

You faked hesitation, but were smiling, giving you away so easily.

"Do you have your lightsabers around or can I give you an honest answer?"

You both laughed, but it seemed to drain all your energy again, and you closed your eyes once more.

"You need to rest," Ahsoka said softly, brushing her fingertips across your forehead. "We're safe, the troopers didn't find us."

You nodded, and hesitated before asking the question on the tip of your tongue.

But you had come close to dying, and you were still so weak. It got the best of your judgement, for sure. You would have never had the nerves otherwise to speak the words you were about to utter.

It was strange, really, the in-between situation you and Ahsoka were lost into. You knew she felt for you the same as you felt for her, and you had no doubt that she was aware of your love for her too. But it seemed that a silent agreement had been set between the two of you to not make a move. Maybe it was because Ahsoka used to be a Jedi, for whom celibacy was an important thing. But it was mostly because you were taking too many risks, and were too much apart. It felt like… your love deserved more than what you could offer now. So, without discussing it, you had seemed to both decide to wait. To not truly show how you felt. To not give in when you longed to kiss her, or for her to refrain her longing to hug you every time she saw you.

And yet there were moments, like this one, when circumstances made the line between your agreement and what you longed for a little more blur. After all, you had come close to dying. It could have been much more serious than a hypothermia, in the end. All because a patrol from the Empire had crossed your path to settle new defensive systems around the base…

So, it wasn't really your fault, really, when you crossed a line you had silently agreed not to cross, and wrapped your own fingers around hers.

"Can you stay for a while longer?" you asked in a breath.

She seemed to hesitate.

"I have to go check…"

"Just… just a few more minutes, please."

And for a second, you thought she would give you this apologetic smile she always gave you and lower her head, and walk away. But she didn't. After all, she had been just as scared as you, maybe even more. She had almost lost the woman she loved, so, she reckoned she could take a step over the line as well.

She gave you a tender smile instead, that meant more about her feelings for you than any word that she had ever spoken. And the smile you offered back to her was the sign that you knew what she meant, and felt just the same.

And maybe, one day, when the war would be over, you would have a chance to speak out loud the three words you kept on silently repeating for now.

It would have to wait for now though, and her answer was enough for the time being.

"Alright. A few more minutes then."

[faustonastring]

Could I get headcanons for the main six with mc who is obsessed with stuffed animals?

Thanks for requesting I hope you like it :)

Request are open! :))

Main six with an mc who is obsessed with stuffed animals

Asra

He thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world

Every time he travels away from you, he always brings you one back that represents where he traveled (a modern day example would be a teddy bear with a sombrero to represent Mexico, (just so you get the picture)) he also gets to them as presents for birthdays and holidays anniversaries

In a modern au, you both more or likely have a beanie baby collection hiding somewhere in the shop, you both probably brought another beanie baby snail so you could recreate the “snesbian”(snail lesbian) wedding you saw on tiktok

Early in you’re relationship (pre-upright) before he can take you on trips with him he finds it really comforting to know that you have a cuddle buddy or two to keep you company while he’s away, but after you’ve been together for a while (post-upright) don’t be surprised when you wake up and all your stuffed animals are on the floor (that is if you sleep with them of course!)

I also really like the idea of asra trying to make you a stuffed animal for your birthday or anniversary, or any other celerbration (something a like his Faust trinket you can get from the wheel, just a little more improved, )

Apologies in advance for the angst BUT If you’ve had this obsession pre-memory lost, when you’re,,,, y’know (trying to keep this as spoiler free as I can for some of the new guys!) he clutches on to it every night while he’s trying to sleep, crying out you’re name, (and probably uses it in his studies to try to get you back,) and post-y’know, he brings it with him during all his trips because of how much he hates being away from you, and if you’ve grown fond of that one, he’ll bring another one you like a lot, he feels bad but he can’t help it, he just misses you so much

Also some of you are gonna hate me for this but piggy backing off of that angst I just wrote, imagine Julian and asra in the shop, doing...their....studies..(if you know you know) and Julian just sees the stuffed animal in the bed and asks why asra has it (and being himself try’s to make a joke about asra needing to sleep with a stuffed animal, when he can just sleep with him instead-) and asra just kicks him out, and they never talk about it again.

Nadia

She’s on it. She’ll ask you a million questions, “what kind do you like, do you need to sleep with any, do you want a custom one, or a spefic kind?”

Her room is so cluttered with stuffed animals by the end of the week, that she makes you pick out you’re favorite one (which quickly turns into ten or twenty) and the rest go to their own separate room in the palace, where they’re put on display, and easily accessible for you to switch out with any of the ones In you’re too, that you’re bored with

In a modern au I feel like Nadia would also be on bored for collecting beanie babies, but unlike asra who’s only in it for the snesbian wedding she wants all of the rare ones doesn’t matter how much they cost, she has them, it’s not even about you at this point, when Nadia gets a kick you just gotta let her ride it out.

I think it’s canon (or atleast close to canon) that Nadia loves to design clothes, I mean we all know she loves to tinker, but I think she’ll find it really relaxing destining new stuffed animals with you and clothes for some of the ones you already have if you’d want (and yes. She makes matching ones for you and you’re favorites)

If you do sleep with them, Nadia might find it a little hard to sleep with all the clutter around the bed so she’ll thoss the ones your not cuddling off the bed (or if she’s having a real sleepless night, she’ll throw them across the room) but nonetheless if you’re happy she’s happy, she’ll never get agitated at you for having your own interest (despite tripping over like three of them while trying to start her day)

Also I feel like atleast one of Nadias sisters had that stuffed animal phase as a kid, if you know baby....then you know so I feel like it’s really refreshing for her to be able to keep stuffed animals around without having to hear someone scream and whine because they couldn’t get the one they wanted

Julian

The day after you tell him he brings you a doctor teddy bear, wearing a hand-sewn eye patch witch Portia more or likely helped him make (note that I said helped he wanted to try to make it on his own... but surgical stitches are a lot diffrent from things such as cross stitches,,,, and the fabric is just a lot more flimsy then human flesh)

He likes to bring you ‘fun’ ones as he calls them, teddy bears dressed as pirates, doctors, flappers, any kind that matches you’re faveroite animal, pigs decked out in fancy clothes (the vesuvia verson of Miss piggy) espically if he knows you like them, he would do anything to see you laugh and smile, especially if it’s from one of his gifts, it makes his heart jump

In a modern au, you could spend your quality time making fun of the ridiculous beanie baby prices, but for the love of god please don’t say you find a beanie baby who’s highest bidding price is over one hundred dollars cute, because HE WILL bid on it and the price DOESNT MATTER (also- self indulgent but If you have a furby espically the older ones, it will freak Julian the hell out, and he will quickly turn it so it’s not looking at him every time he enters a room)

Every time you travel together he checks all the touristy gift shops for a stuffed animal you like, and will happily buy you any type you like, and it doesn’t matter how big it is. He WILL make it fit in his suit case, even if it means he has to leave a couple pairs of shoes behind.....

If you sleep with any of you’re stuffed animals he doesn’t mind, I mean sure he ends up laying on a couple of them, and the do end up getting tangled in his limbs, but he finds it cute and is willing to make a sacrifice, and if he were to come in late from working overtime and caught you sleeping cuddling the doctor teddy bear he gave you....with the eyepatch that he helped make....he wouldn’t want to disturb you... so he pulls up a chair and watches you sleep in the least creepy way possible

If you two are ever trying to do the do and your stuffed animal is In the room... or even better facing towards the bed... I think it would make Julian the slightest bit uncomfortable but would just laugh it off and say something along the lines of “I didn’t know we had and audience” or “looks like we have a guest” which would be terrifying if he were to say that mid-ya know

Portia

You two vibe so hard

Out of everyone I feel like she is definitely the most enthusiastic and chill about having stuffed animals in her cottage, and I mean sure they’re everywhere and she’s tripped on atleast six of them... but as long as pepi doesn’t get too any of them( again) you’re fine

I like to imagine she has something (other than Julian) that survived the ship wreck with her, wether that be a blanket or a stuffed animal (for the sake of this head canon it’s a stuffed animal) that she holds very close to her yes this is very unlikely given, well all the factors but she deserves something, and if your really against that idea, a little stuffed animal Julian gave her when she was a kid before he left

I can’t keep headcanoning that every one has a thing for beanie babies in a modern au, even though she has a snesbian wedding in her garden with a snesbian officiant which she photographs and gets tiktok famous off of.... she’ll be more into anything Sanrio related, like don’t leave this girl alone in round one because she’s already spent 150 trying to win the rilakkuma stuffed animal that’s riiiiight over the edge (after many many try’s, she does win it, and gives it to you)

She is the type to sew, or crochet, or even knit you stuffed animals, and those are usually the ones she ends up giving you, if not? They definitely were handmade from somewhere, probably a small shop or from an old lady selling them at the heart district

If you sleep with stuffed animals....well good news because so does she! Throughout the night not only are you to fighting for the blanket (if it’s during winter) but now you’re fighting over the stuffed animals, and every night as soon as one of you says you’re going to bed, it’s a race to see who can get to bed first and hog all the stuffed animals, (which may lead to a pillow fight if you’re lucky)

One time pepi tore up one of you’re faveroite stuffed animals and Portia felt so bad about it that she not only made pepi her own toys to play with, but sewed up your toes up one, and if it was beyond repair, she would make you an identical one

(Also Portia is the type to spend 100 dollars at a carnival trying to knock the milk bottles down so she can win her s/o a cheap stuffed dog that pepi is gonna claw into anyway...but it’s the thought that counts :’) )

Muriel

Does. Not. Understand. But hey! He’s trying~! A+ for effort right?

He wants to make it clear that it’s NOTHING to do with you, he finds it ADORBALE! He really really does and he’s trying hard to express that but depending where you are in your relationship with him....makes a little bit of a difference, so for the sake of the headcanon muriels headcanon is gonna be soon after his upright endeding so expect some assumptions about his character but I do know that people just don’t change over night so one things for sure....he still doses to fully understands soft nice things

I think Muriel likes to hear you talk, like sure he prefers the quiet, but out of everyone in the world, your the only person he doesn’t mind listening to (how sweet! ) so he probably asks you a lot of questions, but not necessarily like Julian, more questions that ask why you like them, because he wants to like them too, and you want him to like them too, but you do still have some work ahead of you

In a modern au.....build a bear dates @lisa-frank-cave did a headcanon on it a while back that I REALLY liked, it is a little buried so if you’re having trouble finding it lmk and I can reblog it for you, but atleast visits their page and look for it because their stuff is super good! :) so for sure go check out their head canon for it if you want something more in depth but to just elaborate my thoughts on it, it’s just something the two of you could do together (and I feel like Muriel loves spending time with you no matter what activity it is) I also feel like he’d like being able to make something with you, which works out great if you can’t whittle to save you’re life,,,and I dunno,,,it just makes me soft,,,,

I don’t like the head canon that Muriel has bug clumsy hands, he can whittle for gods sake! And used to make masquerade masks for asra to sell pre-plague times, (and made his own in every route but his own) so I feel like Muriel would atleast attempt ONCE to sew or crochet you a stuffed animal, it’s a little tragedy looking, and over time it starts to fall apart at the seams, but he made it for you, and seeing you love it so much let’s him know all his hard work payed off, and he’ll make you another one or two

He doesn’t mind if you sleep with stuffed animals, but he apologizes in advance if they get crushed (the bed is barley big enough for the both of you) and gets a little jealous if you’re cuddling you’re stuffed animal instead of him, he won’t say anything but he’ll for sure get pouty about, and as cute as he is when he’s pouty make sure you don’t cuddle you’re stuffed animals more than him, because if you do it will start to get to him if you know what I mean

Also refuses to have sex if stuffed animals are on the bed or facing the bed, if they’re on the bed, he’ll throw them off, facing the bed, he’ll turn them around, he just doesn’t like the idea of being watching while being intimate with you

Lucio

If I’m being honest will make fun of you a tiny bit at first (he’ll stop he he strikes a nerve) but soon finds the appeal

Mama morga didn’t let him have stuffed animals growing up, for a while there she didn’t even want him sleeping with a blanket, so he’s alllll over this, but yeah you’re stuffed animals are cute, but he wants a spefic type of stuffed animals.... next thing you know Lucio says he got some stuffed animals for you two to share, and it’s just about 30 diffrent variations of goats. But hey! Atleast he offered to share!

In a modern au I feel like lucio would be overly enthusiastic to go to build a bear that he nearly crushes a kid with his knock off red bottoms trying to get in there, dragging you behind him, then impatiently rushes the whole process not making too enjoyable for you (depending on who you are of course) but lucio just seems to be having fun! (Also goes on a Saturday afternoon and they are like four kids celebrating their birthday and a line that goes out the door, unlike Muriel who goes early Sunday morning or Tuesday night to beat the crowds)

He personally likes anything goat related, but also likes custom made ones made with red velvet and and gold stitching, and will happily buy you or get any kind you want customed made, and on you’re birthday? When you wake up in the morning the room is covered with all diffrent typed of stuffed animals, and lucio is beaming proudly in the middle of it

If you sleep with them then no problem! Lucio would too! But if he catches you cuddling a certain stuffed animal more than him then it might just....disappear for a while...but if he sees you upset or worried that you can’t find it, don’t worry! It will reappear again.... or something very similar to it.....

One time Mercedes and Melchior tore up one of you’re favorite stuffed animals (again) so lucio had them kicked out of his bedroom...or so he said, what really happened is while he was waiting for your replacement to come in, he wanted to act all tuff and kick Mercedes and Melchior our to assert his dominance, but secretly still played with them and let them back in you’re room when you weren’t around. You know. But you pretend that you don’t

Thanks for reading if you would like something more spefic welll.....

My request are open! :)

[deckof-dragons]

bugsnax idea: while buddy, filbo, and egg are climbing the mountain after the point of no return, beff and cromdo are grudgingly cooperating on a salvaging run to some wrecks that got shifted by the earthquake. theyre looking for parts to fix buddys airship. they also bring back some other supplies. buddy is very happy about this (it doesn't matter that it was in a sunken ship for a year, freeze dried scrambled eggs is WAY more of a meal than sauce - plus the medical supplies are useful)

I'm not 100% sure this ask was intended as a request but I treated it as such anyway because I wanted to. I mostly wanted to try writing from Beffica's POV because I love her but also hate her for being mean to Filbo. And this was a good way to do that, especially since I like her Cromdo's dislike for one another. Also, I suppose this is also a good way to establish that I'm open to requests. I do wish you had sent it to my Bugnsax blog (@poliel) though but it did come in like right after I made the blog so it's possible you didn't know about it.

~

“You only volunteered to do this because you’re hoping to steal some treasure,” Beffica said as they left Snaxburg together.

“Nah, that ain’t the only reason,” Cromdo replied. “Somebody’s got to do it, might as well be me, right? And if I happen upon some treasure whilst searching through the wreckage, there ain’t no harm in taking it. ‘Sides, you only volunteered to keep an eye on me. So you ain’t got a leg to stand on here.”

Beffica couldn’t exactly argue with that since it was true. But somebody needed to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn’t try anything sleezy. In the interest of this being a rather urgent matter though, she didn’t bother saying so or anything else for now. Once they fixed the air ship and were safely sailing away, they could all go back to fighting and hating each other. Until then though it was best to get along and work together.

So instead, she started jogging, trying not to think about the occasional earth rumbling or the mounds of what looked like food coming out of the ground. As expected, Cromdo picked up his pace too, almost immediately starting to breath heavier.

By the time they reached the beach proper, Beffica was starting to breath harder too. Gosh how had long had it been since she’d last gone for a proper jog? Too long for sure. For Cromdo however it had clearly been longer with the way he was huffing and puffing. She wasn’t going to slow down for him though, they were in too much of a hurry and it made any further conversation impossible. So onward they continued towards Boiling Bay.

By the time they got there Beffica knew to expect it to be different than it had before the quake based off the changes Shimmering Springs had clearly gone through. The lava flow that had once crossed across the sand into the ocean had slowed to a trickle, the cave it came out of blocked up with rocks. The biggest change though and what was surprising enough to cause them both to slow to a halt was how much the shoreline had been altered. It hardly looked like the same place anymore. But as Snorpy had suggested, the quake had shook up and revealed more wreckage. Including two halves of a whole ship sticking up out of the water a bit further out. Which was the first real turn of lucked they’d had since arriving on this dang island especially since it looked remarkably intact other than the whole being split in half thing. In fact it looked like it hadn’t been there for very long … Wait a minute…

“I think that’s the ship we arrived here on,” Cromdo said before she could even complete the thought. “I guess Liz and Egg didn’t run off with it after all.”

“Huh? But how’d it get… You know what? Never mind. We don’t have to time to waste. Let’s go get what we need and gather anything else that might be useful and get back to Snaxburg.” Hopefully before another big quake hit or lava destroyed the town or the Queen of Bugsnax showed up to eat everyone or the Grumpinati came to finish them off or whatever other bad thing could supposedly end them before they could got off this island.

 -

With the ship being split in two and there being two of them the most logical course of action was to split up and each search one half. Which made keeping an eye on Cromdo more difficult but the matter was a bit too urgent for Beffica to really worry about. It also unfortunately this meant getting very wet since the ship was still more submerged than not. But on the bright side, the bugsnax meant she currently didn’t have fur anymore and thus she didn’t have to deal that because wet fur was the worst.

It was Cromdo’s idea to carry everything they could salvage back in. Beffica was the one who found the ship’s massive ice chest though. It was more than big enough for their needs and already had some random foodstuffs in it, a good start. There somehow wasn’t even much water in it.

Their number one priority was finding what could even maybe be used to fix Buddy’s air ship and get it up and running again. Lucky for them Snorpy somehow seemed to know exactly what they would need for that and quickly laid it out for them. Hopefully they could find everything he needed.

Once they had what seemed and would hopefully be enough to fix the airship bundled into the ice chest on top of what was already in there, they both went back to their ship halves to have one more look around for anything that might be useful and would fit in the space left in the chest. Beffica unfortunately didn’t find much, everything else that might’ve once been helpful was too waterlogged to be of any real use now. But upon reuniting with Cromdo by the ice chest she was pleased to see he’d found something.

“What’s that?” she asked she approached.

“First aid kits. I don’t know how well anything inside them held up with the whole being underwater thing for however grumping long but it don’t hurt to bring them along regardless. But anyway, you find any treasure? Or anything that might be worth selling?” His hopeful tone indicated he’d found no such thing himself.

“Nope.” Not that she’d had brought it along if she had. “I unfortunately didn’t find anything actually useful either.”

With a sigh, Cromdo snapped the ice chest’s lid shut.

“Let’s just get this back to Snaxburg,” she continued before he could say anything. “Buddy and company should be nearing Frost Peak by now. We need to have the airship ready to go preferably before they get back.” Hopefully Lizbert would be with them. If not then… they’d have to write her off for good.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Let’s just get the grump out of here already. You take the back end, I’ll take the front. And lift with your legs, not your back ‘cause trust me, just ‘cause you’re young don’t mean you can’t throw your back out. And you don’t want to do that.”

“Yeah, grandpa, I know.” Beffica went around to grab her side.

“Hey, I ain’t that old.”

Beffica scoffed but otherwise chose to ignore him. “Lift in three… two… one.” They lifted it with a grunt and wasted no time starting back for Snaxburg.

One escape sequence later

Filbo seemed have steering the ship well in hand so Buddy gratefully plopped down to sit on their bed after making sure everyone was okay. It was rather crowded on board but it was still their ship so everyone had kindly left the bed to them. They were a bit tempted to lie out on it and take a nap but… they were still a bit too high strung to fully relax yet. Besides, there was a large ice chest on board now, pushed up against the back wall to keep it out of the way. Someone must’ve loaded it up with stuff from the town and brought it onboard before the bugsnax really began their assault. What exactly was inside was a mystery though, but one that shouldn’t be horrible and terrifying and therefore a safe thing to investigate. It’d also just be good to know in general in case anyone needed anything that it might contain. So Buddy reached over and pulled it closer and perpendicular to the bed so they could pop the latches and open it.

Inside was mostly empty but there was a rolled-up bit of sail cloth and a few loose planks of wood. … Ah, probably the leftovers of the stuff the others had used to repair the ship. What little was left probably wouldn’t be useful but it was best to keep it around anyway, just in case it was. Underneath that was… first aid kits, three of them. They were all leaking water, probably seawater judging based off the smell of it. Anything that was waterproof inside was still good to have on hand though. And at the bottom were packets of…

“Freeze dried scrambled eggs?” Buddy read the label aloud as they lifted it. That was certainly not what they’d expected and a quick look revealed the other packets had other freeze-dried foods as well. With a shrug, the dried it off before tearing it open with their teeth. They then sniffed the opening. … Hmm… it didn’t smell like the sea water had gotten in so… the poured some into their mouth.

It did not at all taste like any scrambled eggs Buddy had ever had. It didn’t have much of a flavor at all really. But what little was there was far better than ketchup or any other sauce. It was the first solid food Buddy had eaten in months. With that in mind they were tempted to down the whole thing right this instant followed by everything else in the ice chest. Before they did that though…

“Hey Gramble.” With how morosely quiet everyone was being they didn’t even need to raise their voice a whole lot for Gramble to hear them over by the bow of the ship. “I found some real food if you want some.” He’d gone even longer without eating solid food than Buddy had so he deserved some too.

His response was barely audible but sounded and awful lot like a “No, thanks.” Before Buddy could ask him if he was sure though, he perked up, raising his voice. “Wait, by ‘real food’ do you mean not bugsnax and not sauce?”

“Yep, exactly!”

“Oh, okay then!” And he was on his way over with Wiggle following.

Next Buddy turned to look at Shelda who’d been sitting in the corner on the other side of the cabin. She’d gotten up though and approached. She took a breath, clearly intending to ask for them to share. Buddy spoke up before she could though. “You can have some too.” She may have occasionally lost the battle of willpower and partaken in eating bugsnax but she’d still mostly eaten sauce for however long she’d been on the island.

“I… thanks,” she said before settling down on the floor by the ice chest.

“Ooh, let’s see,” Wiggle said as she and Gramble arrived. “Freeze-dried scrambled eggs that’s… not all appetizing.”

“It’s a whole lot better than sauce,” Gramble said, mirroring Buddy’s feelings exactly.

Speaking of that, Buddy was done offering to share with anyone else. No one else needed any or would probably even want any regardless. And there was already barely enough for just the three of them. When they got home, Buddy would eat all the real food they desired. For now though, this would more than do.

[sexyshakespeare]

Kurodai AU Chapter 1: The Wolf and The Bear

He waited in the dark for an opportunity to strike. She looked like she was alone. Not a very big bear, he could definitely take her if he aims for her throat. One big bite, even if she throws him off, he could try to land on his feet. He might break a few toes, but that was a very small price to pay if he could get food and shelter for the month. Kuroo stepped out into the clearing by the water’s edge, stalking closer behind the bear who seemed unaware of his footsteps. And just as he was about to lunge, he hears massive footsteps running towards him, causing him to turn wildly around- a giant bear, much bigger than the other was charging at him. Where had he come from, this wasn’t going according to plan at all. He ran back into the woods behind them, running for his life, his heart beating against his chest to carry him further. This was it, he was dying today, and for what- for a life of a petty vendor running errands between tribes for scraps. He could see his life flashing before his eyes as he scrambled into the woods- the grizzly was fast as he was big, even the trees weren’t deterring him like they normally should any bear. He managed to climb a leaf strewn slope up to a jutting rock- hiding behind it to try and catch his breath. He debated running further, calling for help from the neighboring packs- maybe someone would come after all, even if he wasn’t welcome there anymore, maybe they’d mistake his call for someone else. But then he knew, nobody would come. He was alone, and he would die alone, under the jaw of this grizzly. He’d have to put up a fight, and this was his one chance. He takes a deep breath, steels himself, and prepares to die. He aimed for the inside of the bear’s paw- a soft spot, easy to sink his teeth into and try to tear a chunk out of. As he connected with the beast, a terrifying, thunderous roar filled the forest, enough to shake new life into his body- he wasn’t all that small compared to him, his jaw clamping down on his entire paw, sharp fangs digging in deep. But the bear was bigger still, stronger, taller when he stood on his hind legs, and he was being thrashed around in the air like a ragdoll. Then finally, with one last shake, he was tossed into the side of that very same rock. His fate was cruel, but that wasn’t the thought running through his mind when the wind was knocked out of him- the only thought he had, as he whimpered loudly, tears stinging at his eyes- was the excruciating pain shooting through his entire body. His legs, his torso, his head. His head was spinning, the world was spinning- everything seemed to be going dark. This was it. This was the end. He was dying. Like the dog he is, bleeding against a rock in the middle of nowhere. He couldn’t breathe, his ribs surely broken and its contents jostled around. Only his heart seemed to beating still stronger, aching as it pumped life into his body that begged it to stop. Meanwhile, the bear seemed to be in immense pain, stumbling through the woods higher up the slope, leaving a trail of blood behind from its paw. Kuroo closed his eyes then, satisfied with at least that much. That he’d died a fighting dog. If.. if his parents knew, then maybe they’d be proud. And with that, he let the blackness take him. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  Kuroo opened his eyes. How much time had passed, he didn’t know. It seemed dark still, had it been a day already? No, he didn’t think so- it was his instincts driving him now, he needed a safe place to crawl into. Somewhere he could pass out in peace, not here where some animal or other would find him.

But could he move? He looked down to his legs, they looked bad- bruised dark, he could see it better now on his human skin. He was so sure he looked like a sad sack of meat as a man, but he knew he was too weak to change back, for a while at least. So not only was he on the verge of death, he was in his defenseless form- no sharp teeth or claws, or fur.

He reached down to the little bundle of rags he had tied to his thigh, and suddenly felt pain, bolts of pain running jagged through his torso. He gasped for air, struggling as he undid his clothes and managed to pull his hide-skin on. The bottoms were far worse to get into, his pelvis must be shattered he thought as he willed himself not to cry out loud. Panting, sweating, and delirious from the pain, he looked up the slope- all he needed to do was find a cave to lie down in. He wouldn’t move again for at least a week, but right now, he didn’t want to die of shock when something attacked him for meat as the night went by.

Taking in sharp hissing breaths through his mouth, he gripped at the rock beside him, and discovered that he couldn’t stand. He closed his eyes as the tears came, pain like he’d never felt before- and gritted his teeth, crawling up the slope as best as he could. Thankfully, it wasn’t too steep, and there were roots he could use to hoist himself up- his arms though bruised and hurting, could still carry him.

He managed to crawl on his knees some of the way- though it took the life out of him, which made him wonder if he might just survive this. Funny what 5 seconds of being upright can do to a man. Kuroo looked ahead of him just as the slope began to ease up, and saw the entrance of a tunnel that led into the mountain. It wasn’t used by any humans, that much was certain by the large bones strewn outside of it.

It wasn’t his best choice, but it had to do. The man managed somehow to stand then- his muscles aching, tears streaming down his face- he managed to hobble the rest of the way to the little doorway of the cave and collapse right in the middle of it, elbows hitting the hard granite.

This time he did whimper- and suck in a breath, eyes tired from staying open for so long. Crawling to the wall, he tried to sit up, but it hurt to put weight on his tailbone- so he slumped up against it instead. His peculiar gold eyes glinted towards the dark tunnel, praying that nothing came out of there while he was awake. Or that if it did, it would snap his neck first, do him a kindness.

What he didn’t expect, was a pair of eyes watching him from just inside the doorway- 

human eyes.

Kuroo sucked in a breath, his adrenaline kicking in for a few seconds while he tried to sniff them out. He smelled dangerous, it made him want to roll right out of the cave he’d so painstakingly brought himself crawling into.

What was that smell.. strange, human but, unlike any human he’s ever smelled.

The stranger came forward then, his face illuminated slightly by the moonlight outside- dark hair, dark eyes, his body covered in dark furs, and a rugged face that spoke of immense strength. He didn’t seem hostile.

The two men stared at each other for a while longer- till Kuroo finally becomes aware of the smell of blood on him. Injured, like him, taking refuge in this cave then. But, a quick glance over his body revealed to him that he was nursing his hand behind him, the blood draining from there no doubt.

His gold eyes flicked up to his face just as he’d connected the dots, and so had the other man apparently,

“You should’ve run when you had the chance- I didn’t want to make a body bag out of you-“, the young man said plainly, bringing his bleeding hand out into the light, bandaged roughly with some leaves.

“I didn’t think you’d let me go with my life, after I almost attacked your mate”, Kuroo answered, his eyes studying the man’s affect, his body language was calm, composed. It wasn’t like he was a threat to anyone in the state he was in of course, and clearly he was more in danger than this bear man was.

The stranger didn’t say anything, only looking down at Kuroo’s legs, then at his torso. “Why were you hunting her- didn’t expect a wolf to hunt a grizzly on his own, the stupidest thing you dogs have ever done”

That comment got his hackles rising- a low rumble in his throat, which died as fast as it had come. He was far too much in pain to care about his pride.

“I was hunting for my tribe in the village nearby.. fish was drying up over the fall, deer running far from here- bear would’ve given them fur and meat for weeks-“, his voice was weak, his mind focusing on breathing more than his story.

“You were hunting for humans? You live with them?”, bear man asked, scooting forward to hear him better. He had a curious look on his face, clearly out to get as many answers as he could from the man he’d just maimed beyond repair.

“I.. I travel, and sell my wares..”

“What do you sell..”

“Meat.. clothes, I’ve carried messages and found wives for tribes-leaders”

The man squints at him, not fully understanding, “You’re a matchmaker?”

A little laugh sounded from the injured other as he cranes his neck backwards, reminiscing almost, “Ah h.. I’m a salesman.. I make deals in return for some food, shelter from other tribes”

“So you’re a conman-“, the brown-eyed fellow shot back at him, quick as ever to pass judgement, much to the chagrin of the wolf. However, he wants to continue this conversation, he wants to humor him, play him with his words if he can. “It’s only a con if they’re not happy.. and besides”, this he says with a little more pride, “I sell medicine too, not stolen, crafted by me”

“You don’t run with a pack..?”

Oh, the real questions were starting now. The ones that were difficult to answer.

Kuroo shook his head at him, keeping his eyes cast at the fur that hung over the man’s chest. Grizzly fur.

“Your home..? Home pack?”, he prodded some more, unknowing of the look he would see on the man’s face at the mention of it. Kuroo turned, the dark black hair that hung over half his face was facing him now, eyes cast away from his prying brown orbs. 

Kuroo saw flashes of the faces again, he could smell the fire, the blood. He’d tried to make sense of it, not fully remembering any details only just piecing together what might’ve happened to his home, to his parents and his pack. His siblings, a sharp memory of a chasing game, and his mother.

It took him a few seconds, but with a slow blink of his eyes, he turned back to him, “You..? Your home pack?”

This topic seems to lift up bear’s spirits entirely- causing a wide smile to spread on his lips. Pride in his voice when he says, “Yep- lived here all my life, parents raised me here past the under-fall river, cliffs over there”

Kuroo watched him, nodding at the words, exhaustion climbing over his body slowly but surely. And it seemed that the other man noticed, his dark brown eyes showing some concern, maybe even warmth if he wasn’t imagining it.

Another minute passed before he said, “I can take you to my pack.. heal you there-“

The injured man looked at him, tired eyes, shaking his head, “What, let you take me to a forest full of bears? I don’t think so-“, he started off- but could not shake the look in his eyes as they bore into him, his wounds.

“I’m not going to survive another two days-“, Kuroo said to deter him further.

That’s when he came forward, this stranger who owed him nothing, and locked his eyes into his gold, his voice betraying no hesitation as he spoke the words. “I’m not going to let you die”

Kuroo’s head lolled a little now, which caused him to come closer, holding at his neck with his good hand, supporting his heavy, weary form with his strong arms. His strength was leaving him, so he whispered, brows knitting together as he shook his head at him again, “It’s not your place to save my life.. I tried to attack your family today- you can leave me here and go on with a clean conscience knowing they’re safe-“

“I’m not going to let you die”

His words were spoken even firmer, an air of finality about them, the stubbornness of a bear perhaps. The wolf could only watch those eyes, full of conviction, like they defied death itself to take him from him. And though he didn’t want to be moved, though he didn’t want to fight this awful, heaviness that was setting in his bones, he just knew he couldn’t say no to him.

Or maybe he was too tired to try.

The bear understood that this defeat meant a silent agreement to being in his care, which brought an impossibly warm smile to his face- the man who could have killed him, who came very close to doing just that barely a few hours ago. “Want me to carry you?”, he asked with clinical concern, but the response Kuroo gave was one of misplaced pride, “N o ..?”

Of course, that earned him an amused look.

A heavy sigh before Kuroo nodded, feeling his pride wilt, his tail between his legs at the thought of being carried like a cub to his cave- but the pull at his neck that he somehow expected instinctually, did not come. Instead, strong, capable arms despite his own injuries scooped underneath Kuroo’s torso and his legs carefully. Before he could protest, he was lifted in the air, and held close to his chest.

Swaddled then, like a baby. His mind seemed to snap when he saw the ground below them, a good way away, and he scrambled just a little to wrap his own arms around the man’s neck, wincing in pain from the movement.

And the gall he had to laugh at him. “Just like you dogs~ always the same, put you on a little shelf and all that pomp dies in seconds-“

Kuroo fumed at him, not appreciating the commentary as he was carried out of the cave-

“Alright alright, I’ll stop cause you’re injured”

“Dying-“

“Injured”

Stubborn. Big. Stinky. Bears. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He was carried the rest of the way, past the river, and to the forest beyond the shallow fishing pool. The climb in the forest was gentle, the terrain naturally flowing back towards the riverside till it tapered to the side of a mountain. The rocky ledge he walked on was the worst hurdle- Kuroo didn’t dare look down to the depths below, burying his face into his shoulder, and closing his eyes shut.

But then, it cleared out onto a wide shelf overlooking the water- the bear cliffs were beautiful, something he’d only seen in the distance. The side of the mountain had several hollows inside of it- each one, full of sleeping bears.

His mouth hung open when he saw them, hardly believing his eyes.

“This is my home.. and you’re welcome here till you’re healed and ready to leave-“, he spoke finally, carrying him in the dark past several occupied caves and into a smaller, empty one.

He set him down on furs that lined the stone, gentle as a feather, showing exceptional control despite his severely injured hand- which the wolf suddenly felt so much guilt for giving him. Gold eyes heavy with sleep followed him as he walked about the surprisingly warm cave for where it was situated- then watched him as he kneeled by his side, a hollow shell in his hand.

“It’s a salve, should take away the fever and the pain for a little- help you sleep tonight..”, he said softly to the man in his care, trying to ease his worries. Looking down at his body now, the next words spoken were, “Strip your clothes off-“

Kuroo shouldn’t have- he shouldn’t have been able to ignore the exhaustion taking over his body, and look up at the man, a little smile building on his lips. But he did just that, eyes heavy lidded with sleep, but also something else-

The bear nearly huffed at him, raising his brow sternly, disbelievingly.  Was he being, suggestive? Of what? “Or I’ll just cut it off of you, you’re not going to be needing them anyway-“

“Alright alright, I’m doing it-“, he said with what bear could’ve sworn was a giggle. After all that he’d been through, the man was giggling and chortling like a pup as he winced and sat up to pull his hide-skin rags off of his torso. He even had the gall to reach for his skirt, which gave good enough access as it is, “This too..?”

A firm little slap on his ribs seemed to do the trick. The man reeled, and gasped for air as he lay down instantly, to the delight of the brown eyed other,  “Blood seems to be leaving your head, do better to lie down-” 

The sun seemed to be filtering through the air, it was morning after already. Orange rays of light fell on the bear man’s face as he leaned over him and applied the salve to his body.

Kuroo watched him as he did it, carefully, taking all the time he needed- first over his chest and under his ribs, then down to his abdomen. As that hand pressed soft circles into his skin, he watched its fingers travel lower, to his hips, and then to his thighs underneath the rags of his skirt. He went still lower to his knees, his shins, his feet and his toes- leaving a trail of burning-cooling tingles in his wake.

When he was done, Kuroo found himself wishing he wasn’t, waiting for another round of this, whatever it was that he was doing to his body. He’d used salves before on himself, but none hadf felt quite like this.

Oh but he wasn’t done, his warm fingers found their way underneath him, rubbing soft lines down his spine to the small of his back. His face was so close to his body while he touched him, his palm cupping over firm buttocks, and travelling.. between them.

Kuroo’s eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets when the firm fingers rubbed at his pelvic bone. There was not a moment of hesitation or awkward reluctance in the man’s eyes, only concentration on his task. A true healer at work, and a man of his word. He wasn’t going to let him die.

The wolf’s eyes poured into his, the words catching in his throat as he watched the bear put the shell down and wipe his one hand on the wall behind him, the other still covered in a bloody bandage and clotted, dirty. He came back to his patient’s side, smoothing over his forehead with the salved hand, a cool sheen of the stuff masking his skin and instantly giving him relief from the throbbing in his head.

“I’ll go find some crystals for you, they’re in a cave not far from here-“, he said to him, eyes full of not sympathy or even empathy really. They were full of care and quiet devotion. “They’re magic, they’ve healed the worst injuries we’ve had- broken bones, bleeding wounds, cured bad appetites and ailing hearts too”

Kuroo smiled faintly up at him then, “Thank you..”, he whispered, the events from the day fully settling on him as his eyes searched his brown. There was nothing there to read, only, inexplicable warmth. The bear’s thumb rubbed a small circle into his forehead, returning Kuroo’s smile with his own.

“Get some sleep..”

He didn’t have to be told twice, going out like a light as soon as the man had left the cave- sinking into dreamless slumber, and a deep one.