#because Oak is just like - are you fr right now???

[honeysulani]

Faerûn's runways are calling

[the-kr8tor]

In Pursuit of Blood: A trip down goblin lane.

Pairing: Vampire! Hobie Brown x fem! Vampire hunter! Reader

Word count: 5.6k

Synopsis: You, an amateur vampire hunter, find it really hard to kill the one vampire you were tasked to kill.

Tags: Use of Y/N sparingly, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), same universe as the WWDITS series, CW blood, TW violence, CW suggestive, Mockumentary AU, established relationship, Fluff.

A/N: Special thanks to @al1x00 (ly fr) for the idea! Happy 1k! 🫶 (Enjoy my attempt at humor lol)

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Hobie's Masterlist

The camera focuses on a leather clad man sitting on a patchwork armrest. His long leg is crossed over the other, metal clinking against each other when he moves. He places his elbow on the armrest, hand under his chin, ringed fingers tapping on his cheek—bored and clearly disinterested. Red eyes lined with dark eyeliner, piercings glimmering under the camera lights, sharp nails painted, he makes the crew suck in a breath.

He's the perfect picture of a rockstar.

The dimly lit gothic home provides the perfect backdrop to the ‘confession booth’, various books, knick knacks from far flung places are littered all over the living room. A grand piano stands proudly to his left, dark oak polished and well taken care off. Tapestries from the sixteenth century are tacked on the walls next to seventies and eighties band posters. His coat rack is full of jackets that look like they come from different times in history.

The producer nods at him, asking for the man's name, his voice just above a whisper so that the microphones don't catch the sound.

He sighs, jaws tighten for a second. “Name's Hobie, Hobie Brown.” His voice shakes the crew's bones. The blond haired producer clears his throat and Hobie rolls his eyes like a spoiled celebrity. “And I'm a vampire.” he says flatly.

The blond gestures for him to continue, asking him how old he is. “Fuckin' hell.” Hobie says under his breath. “Were you not taught manners? Come off it, you don't ask a vampire their age.”

The clipboard holding man, who pretends to be important, asks him why he agreed to the interview if he's so disinterested.

“Fine,” He smiles, showing his sharp fangs, the simple act makes the documentary team's heart skip a beat. “Before you say ‘m following a trend of vampires givin' interviews and a ‘peak behind the cape’ like the wankers in staten island or the lovebirds in dubai. ‘m not, ‘m only doin' this because,” he points dramatically at the clipboard holding man. “Your director told me all proceeds from this goes to charity. And it better be—”

Something thumps outside. The camera sharply turns to the closed floor length curtains.

“Oi, eyes back ‘ere.” Hobie exclaims, the camera whizzes back to his figure. “Again, vampire, been alive for…” he inhales, “a long bloody time. Been a pirate, a cowboy, hell even a rockstar. But always an anarchist.” He says proudly. “I've been rebelling against the one who bit me for centuries,” the camera zooms in on his scowl. “Hate that knobhead.”

Something falls right outside his windows, a groan and a curse sounding out, voice muffled by the walls.

The crew expects Hobie to hiss or even deal with the intruder but he smiles, posture loosening up.

“That,” he points at the source of the ruckus. “That’s a vampire hunter.” Smiling, the crew could hear a muffled ‘fuck you’ behind the walls. “She's been hunting me for a few years now. She—eh, hasn't been close.”

The cursing was louder, camera swishing towards the source, your angry face peeking out from the curtains. The boom mic captures your annoyed growl clearly as you place your face as close as possible on the glass.

“Fuck you, Hobart!”

He chuckles as the crew's face grows with concern. “Don't worry, she's—I guess bad at her job. She's interestin’ though. Y’know what, let me just show you.” He stands up, the cameras and the entire crew follows him through the hallways of his home.

The cameraman almost trips on a stray guitar on the floor. “Careful now, that was a present from some rockstar in the seventies. That's why I leave it on the floor, it works best as a boot scraper.”

Hobie stops in front of double doors, scenes of a love story are carved on the wood.

“It was a gift.” He addresses the doors, “not my first choice but where else would I put the bloody thing?” With a small push, hands braced on both doors, he reveals the expansive room lined with hundreds of paintings and photographs.

He sucks in his teeth. “The entire house is a gift, I'd rather live in a boathouse honestly but this works fine I guess.” Shrugging, he points at the oldest looking wood carving hanging on the wall. A man kneels in front of a woman, rose in his hand as she looks down at him with glee.

“Yes, that's me courting. The wood carver fucked up the scene though, it was more like me ravaging– uh” he clears his throat “…this won't show in pbs right?”

The people behind the cameras shrug as Hobie looks to them for an answer.

“I'll tone it down then, for the children, just in case.” He continues down the lineup of pictures.

Stopping by a large painting of what looks like Hobie in medieval clothing. The painted version of him is surrounded by flowers and trees. His antlers protruding from his head, webs clings to his arms.

“This was when people thought I was fae.” He makes a face, “everyone was tripping on shrooms back then.” walking towards the middle of the room, passing by a few more paintings and tapestries, He pauses on a yellowed painting of a woman who looks similar to you, only less angry.

“Look at her,” sighing, the vampire has heart eyes while looking at the painting. “this was before she was cursed by that bitcharse jealous witch. Now every descendant of hers is cursed to never harm me or any of my spawns, which is bad because they all think I killed their ancestor, and all they want is to kill me. A consequence of dating a vampire hunter during the fifteenth century, I guess.”

“The curse is a two way street, they can't kill me, I can't hypnotize them. It's not that I want to anyway.” he continues.

Another ruckus echoes throughout the house. Hobie smiles again. “I believe she doesn't know about it, so hush, yeah?” He does a double take. “Wait, can you cut that part out?”

—

The second crew runs towards you as you climb the tresses of the house. The camera lens zooms in on your clumsy climbing. Looking down, hearing leaves crunch underfoot, you yelp in surprise.

“What—?!” Losing your hold, you fall on a bush, landing directly at his wild flowers. “Ow! Who the fuck—?!”

—

Now sitting down on a lawn chair, leaves stuck in your hair, face and clothes covered in dirt, you scowl at the producer behind the camera.

Sighing, clicking your tongue, you answer their questions with another question. “Who the fuck are you guys?”

You raise an eyebrow at the words ‘documentary crew’ uttered by the producer.

“Seriously? Who would want to interview Hobart? Scratch that, is it because of those fuckers in staten island?”

A cameraman answers, ‘for charity.’

You blink in surprise, “charity? You fuckin' kidding me? Well if it's for the kids then.” sighing, you resign, looking directly at the camera with disdain, you say your first name. “And I'm a vampire hunter, I mean obviously I am just looking at all the stakes and holy water strapped to me. I look like I'm very fun at parties.” You say jokingly, “and church, probably. Dunno never been.”

The camera cuts back to Hobie still in the large room full of paintings and memorabilia.

“— I didn't do anythin’ wrong. They're absolutely mad at me for no reason—” he stops, thinking. “But I guess I was the reason their family was cursed innit?”

He changes subjects, showing the camera a painting near the end of the room.

“Oh this? This is when her great great great great grandfather almost got me, memories huh? He was mighty fit.” The crew zooms in on a gorgeous painting of a man trying to put a stake through Hobie's heart while he smiles up at him like he's smitten.

“Good times.” He chuckles.

—

“Fuck this.” You say, standing up from the chair, grabbing the mic off from your shirt abruptly. The camera follows you as you grab the lawn chair that you were just sitting on. You then proceed to throw it at a stained glass window. Giving you entry to his abode.

“It was gaudy anyway.” Entering the house, your shoes crunch the broken glass.

—

“Huh, she's inside. That's a record.” Hobie says almost excitedly. “I'll show you the rest of the room after this—.”

The double doors burst open, the camera swivels to you and the camera crew behind you. Holding a stake, you scowl at Hobie.

“Hello, darling, how was your commute?” He genuinely smiles.

“I have a car now, fuck you!” You lunge at him.

Lightning fast, he grabs your wrist right before the stake kisses his chest. The camera crews film on the sides, avoiding getting hit themselves.

“Good for you, finally saved up then?”

Lifting your legs, you kick his chest, you tumble, landing on your feet, staring at him menacingly. “Yes! It's a kia!” you scream before you run full speed at him.

“You got a good deal on it? Automatic or manual?”

“No!” You swing at him, he dodges. “I think I got swindled!” Kick “And it's a manual!” Punch “I’m not a pussy!”

Hobie clicks his tongue, avoiding the pointed edge of the stake. “Point ‘em to me, love, maybe I can get you your money back.”

Stepping back further away, you pause while he stands at the end of the room. Changing your hold on the sharp wood, you throw it at him, he leans slightly, dodging the projectile. it hits the wall right next to your ancestor’s portrait.

“You'll just drink him dry like the last guy!”

He shrugs, making a face that makes you want to punch him harder. “Not my fault he was a knobhead.”

You bounce on your feet, pouncing at him. “He was my dentist!”

He moves to the side, seeing you running towards one of the paintings, in danger of getting smashed by you. In his panic, he raises his arm to stop you, accidentally clothes lining you. His wall-like arm hits you right on your face.

Falling harshly on the floor, you're completely unconscious.

Hobie looks at the cameras with concern. “Shit.”

—

You wake up on an ancient looking couch, it's soft despite its appearance. Lifting your head with a groan, headache punching through the back of your head, you grimace loudly at the camera crew still filming in the corner.

Falling back on the couch, you hide your flustered face with your arm, pulling the blanket further up your chest.

“I promise I'm not that bad at fighting.” You murmur, still hiding your face from the cameras. “You just caught me at a bad time.”

Hobie suddenly appears with a whoosh, he holds a metal tray with tea and a hot compress placed on it.

“Who's giving you a bad time?”

You audibly groan. “No one.”

He places the tray on the coffee table, sparing a quick glance at the camera. “I caught you lackin’ you're not always that bad. Tea?”

Wordlessly reaching up, you flip him the bird. Hobie smiles softly, tapping your legs to give him space on the settee. The documentary crew is surprised that you actually move to give way to him.

He sits by your legs, preparing your tea just like how you always take it. Two sugars and a dash of milk. The entire production staff is perplexed to say the least.

With a clink of the tea spoon against the cup, you sit up, wincing slightly. “Can I get another sugar cube?”

Hobie raises a brow, “it's that kind of day huh? What's bothering you, love?”

You scoff, taking a cube for yourself then plopping it in your tea cup. “Nothing.”

He flicks his eyes at the camera with a knowing glance. Resting his elbow atop his thigh, chin placed on his hand, he pokes at your leg using his foot. Wordlessly having a conversation. With a sigh and a frown, you sip at your tea.

“Ex kicked me out. Now I'm living with the family again.”

Hobie's nonchalance drops, hand instinctively reaching out to you until he realizes what he's doing, he retracts his hand back.

“Shit, ‘m sorry. Their loss.”

“Mm-hmm, consequences of living with someone you've only dated for three months.” You finish your drink in one gulp. “‘sides, I don't have to pay rent anymore.”

“You've got shitty taste in partners.” You snort, half agreeing with him. “But you have to live with your psycho family so there's that.”

You laugh, the camera zooms in on Hobie's pleased expression.

“They're tolerable now, mellowed out after they took out count Belois.” You look at Hobie, copying his position like a mirror.

“He was an arse, did all of us a favour.” he stares at your eyes while the camera continues to film, yet you two don't seem to notice them anymore.

“Yeah, wish I was there though.” You say in a small voice. “They never invite me to those hunts. Always left watching outside.”

Hobie reaches towards you again, this time he actually holds you. Long fingers curling around your wrist, his thumb rubbing gently. “If only they know how hard you could kick.”

“You barely moved when I kicked you.” Chuckling, your eyes sparkle under the dim lights.

“Well it's me,” he inches closer to you in the seat, knee brushing against yours. “But if it was any other vampire out there they would have flown.”

You scrunch your face. Laying your hand down to your thigh, Hobie intertwined his fingers around yours properly this time. The camera captures the confusing scene.

“Because they turned into a bat?”

He grins, showing you his teeth, you don't even flinch. “Nah, because you kicked ‘em too hard. Did you hit your head that hard?” Knocking his knuckles against your temple softly, you move back like lightning has struck you.

“No, I'm actually okay, thanks.” You take your hand away, eyes flitting nervously at the camera then to Hobie. “I gotta go, dinner with the psycho family.” Standing up, you take your belongings from the floor. “You know how it is.”

He looks up at you with an unreadable expression, “yeah, I know how it is.” He says forlornly.

Patting his shoulder awkwardly, your hand lingers for a half second. “Bye,” you stare at the crew in the corner, “bye to all of you, I guess. Don't get eaten.”

The camera pans towards Hobie who just shrugs, fangs poking out of his lips.

—

Hobie eats alone in his empty dining room. The table is long, made of strong narra, designed to sit a dozen or so people. He sits in the head of the table, utensils scraping against the bloodied plate. His goblet is full, untouched.

He looks up at the camera on the other side of the table, observing his every move.

“The table's a gift too.” He says before continuing to eat silently.

—

The camera follows Hobie throughout his day. Roaming aimlessly around the house, he floats above the ground, hand and feet sticking on the wall while he dusts pictures that's placed on the highest shelf.

In the afternoon, he writes music on his piano while he flashes back and forth towards the drums and guitar, testing the music he wrote.

The crew captures Hobie burying something in the backyard. Jacket off, tank top and bare arms in full display. Moonlight illuminating his skin. His necklaces clink together as he shovels in dirt, packing the hole in tightly. The producer asks something about familiars and Hobie scowls at the word.

“No, just no. ‘m fully against havin’ familiars, it's fuckin' wrong.” He sticks the shovel harshly on the soil when the producer questions him again. “Ask me again and you'll be the one ‘m burying next.”

The camera shuts off abruptly.

—

The small supermarket's repetitive jingle from the nineties irks Hobie as he shops for some meat. But what irks him more is the documentary crew finding him especially after he went out of his way to hide from them.

He tosses a box of your favourite tea in the basket, annoyed at the team behind the cameras and boom mics. “Do the lot of you have a tracker on me or somethin’?” Shaking his head, he stomps down the aisle, heavy boots thudding loudly on the floor.

With his leather jacket plus all the metal and spikes on him, Hobie looks like a regular punk shopping for groceries. But if you looked closer, stayed too long in his presence, your flight or fight response kicks in, rendering anyone frozen on the spot.

His ruby eyes scan around the soap display, trying to ignore the cameras and people trailing after him, he gets a whiff of a familiar scent: strawberries and cream, it's you.

Hobie's feet move on its own, carrying him towards your direction. He spots you standing in the fruit section, weighing a watermelon in your hands, knocking on it then listening to the sound closely like you're trying to eavesdrop.

“What's the watermelon saying?”

“Christ!” You jump, dropping the watermelon.

Thankfully he catches it before the fruit splatters on the linoleum. “Just me, love.”

Clutching your chest, you take deep breaths. “I thought I smelled something rotten.” He raises a brow at your comment. “What are you doing here? This is far from your place.”

“First of all, I smell like sandalwood and fresh linen, fuck you.” You snort, rolling your eyes. “And ‘m tryin' to avoid them.” He points behind him, towards the cameras.

“Augh, they're still following you?”

“Apparently I signed a contract, it's not a one time thing.” He places the watermelon back to the crate, taking one that is riper and sweeter just for you. He then gently drops it in your cart, you nod a thanks.

“I told you before don't sign anything when you're drunk off of alcohol filled blood.”

“You're right, lovie, should've listened to you. Can't blame me when I only hear music whenever you open your pretty mouth.” He leans on your cart nonchalantly, giving you his signature smirk that has people falling over themselves for centuries.

“That's not much of a compliment.” You grimace, unaffected by his charm. “Listen, since we're in a public place I'm not gonna try to kill you so please get off my cart, I've got some shopping to do.” Shaking the trolley, he leans away, dismayed. “Also, the owner seems to like me, which is rare enough, so I don't want to ruin my relationship with the old lady. Shoo, Hobart, I'm off the clock.”

“You've got two people who like you now. One more than the other, I suppose.”

You narrow your eyes towards the vampire. “Who's the second one.”

Hobie walks backwards, arm wrapped around his basket, smile blinding everyone in its vicinity. “Me, darling, isn't it obvious?”

The bright fluorescent lights shouldn't do him any favours but by god, he looks amazing under it.

You don't answer, the camera zooms into your hands gripping the handles of the shopping cart, chest heaving, swallowing thickly.

He leaves, going towards the cashier to pay for his groceries. And you spot a sign that's labeled ‘50% off on garlic!’ you glare at the camera, pushing the cart towards the display.

—

Hobie sits on his work table, pieces of a TV are jumbled out on the table as he tinkers with them. His hands shake slightly, he should really feed.

“—‘m pretty good with technology, not like the other vampires. I've adapted well with—” he sniffs, “wait, what's that smell?”

He opens the door to find thousands of garlic circling around his house, “what—?”

“Tada!” You pop out from the side, hands carrying bushels of garlic, no doubt smelling like it too. “Wait, no, not tada, that's in poor taste because you hate them.”

Hobie gags at the smell, eyes watery and irritated. “This is a bad idea!” He rubs at his eyes, tears fully streaming on his cheeks.

“Why? Because it's working?!” You cackle, throwing the vegetable like confetti, one lands right on top of your head.

“Because it attracts—!”

You screech when you feel a sharp tug at your coat. A little green creature shrieks at you, the sound rings your eardrums, almost breaking the boom mic. Its eyes are dark and glassy, ears pointed, teeth sharp.

“A Goblin?!” Falling on your ass, you crawl backwards, watching as more and more of them appear from the bushes.

“I'm a goblin.” The one with a worn out party hat says, voice cracking like foil.

“What are you a Pokémon?!”

Hobie runs after you as fast as he can with the garlic hindering him. “Get inside!” He yells, dragging you towards the door. His hands sizzle atop your arms, the garlic searing his skin.

The creatures skidaddles towards you, towards the smell of garlic. Waves upon waves of green skitter and crawl on all limbs, eyes hungry, mouths agape.

“Hobie!” You hold on to his wrists as the ground scratches your back. Kicking an incoming goblin, you yelp as the door closes at the nick of time.

Claws scratch at the windows and walls. One of them even bangs its head hard on the glass just to get to you.

Hobie hides you behind him, eyes still stinging and skin aflame. “Get to the basement!” He screams when one breaches the house with glass shattering. “Go!”

Running down, Hobie lets you and the crew go first. He grabs a cutlass from the wall, chopping one that comes a little too close to your leg.

You look back at him with worry. “Hobie!”

“I'll be there! Just go!” He grabs one by the neck, throwing it away haphazardly.

It yells a faint ‘whee’ as it sails through the house.

Reaching the large basement, you search for the light switch, a cameraman beats you to it and you yelp at the sudden brightness.

The basement is full of things from different centuries. An iron maiden lays discarded on the corner, its steel rusted and brown. A sculpture of a woman sits on a shelf, it looks like it's a long lost work of Rodin. There's a large tapestry depicting a vampire war that is now collecting dust on the wall.

But the thing that catches your eyes is the massive metal cage that sits in the middle of the room. You would gawk but the swarm of goblins are nearing the basement. The familiar thumping of boots shakes you with relief.

“Cage!” Hobie grabs you effortlessly, you have no time to react as he carries you like a duffel bag by your waist.

The crew follows frantically, closing the metal doors shut behind them just as the swarm gets close. They shriek and bang on the bars, little arms trying to reach towards you.

He lays you back to your feet, dropping the drenched sword on the ground, palms still healing. He cups your face, searching for any injuries.

“You alright?” He heaves, out of breath, legs covered in goblin bites and palms searing but he looks at you like you're the one who's bleeding.

Staring at him with your irises blown out, mouth slightly parted, you embrace him to his surprise and the crew's.

“I'm okay,” you lean away before he could hug back. Hands placed on his shoulders, nails digging into him like he's about to be yanked away from you. “Are you?”

Hobie forgets about the other people inside the cage and the goblins trying to nibble at him. It's only you in his hands, even though the pungent smell of garlic makes his nose itch. Eyes tender, touch gentle, he could only nod.

“Yeah, I'm good now.” His voice lacks the usual charm.

You can finally breathe. “I thought…I'm the only one that's allowed to kill you.”

Chuckling, he traces your jaw with his thumb. “I know. You're first in line, darling.”

The crew stands near the sides awkwardly.

—

The goblins are trashing Hobie's basement, and based on the sounds from upstairs, they're also wreaking havoc in the entire house.

You sit back to back with Hobie in the middle of the cage, away from the bars, hands braced to your sides, his own are mere inches away from yours. He's glad that the garlic smell has wafted away from you, but not enough to get rid of the goblins still hankering for your flesh.

The crew stays away from the openings of the cage whilst a handful of the creatures try to grab at their equipment. It's been hours since the initial attack and everyone's getting hungry and thirsty, including Hobie.

“Why do you even have a dungeon in your basement—? Wait, scratch that, don't answer.” You try to pass the time.

“It was for your great great uncle—”

“Ew!”

“Get your head out of the gutter.” He says flatly, hands shaking from hunger. “I got it so he has a safe place to transform every full moon.”

“What? Huh, so that's why that branch of the family is so hairy.”

He changes the subject. “What were you thinkin’ with the garlic?” Hobie lays his head right on your shoulder, craning his neck to face you, he uses the closeness to memorize your face. His crimson eyes are dimmer than you're used to.

“I dunno, I thought it was a genius idea back then. Y’know, trap you inside, starve you then when you're weak enough I'd put a stake through your heart.”

“It's a good thing you're bloody fit.” He murmurs, chuckling quietly. “You almost got me though.” Your ears pick up the fatigue in his voice.

“And here I thought you fancy me for my amazing personality.”

“That too.” He smiles weakly, feeling the ache in his bones. “We need to get out of here.” His jaw visibly tightens, wanting to get away from you and your scent. Unfortunately it's not so easy when you're trapped.

“I know,” You sigh, Hobie sits up, covering his ears with the heels of his palms. “You okay?”

“I can hear your blood rushing through your veins.” He bites the inside of his cheeks. “Fuck, we really need to get out of here.” Standing up on wobbly feet, you help him up while the crew stands as far as they can without getting slashed by goblin claws.

“You're hungry.” You state the obvious.

“Starvin’” his red eyes flick down to your neck, already feeling guilty from the simple look.

You swallow thickly. “When was the last time you drank?”

“A couple days ago.” His vision blurs.

“Why are you starving yourself?” Scolding him, you guide him back down on the cold granite. “Hobart.”

“Why do you keep callin' me that?” Cold hands against your own, his eyes zeroes in on your face, avoiding the veins in your neck. “You sound like her when you call me that.”

Your eyes soften, warming him with your palms atop his cheeks, you worry. “You haven't answered my question.”

He groans, head lolling backwards. “Got busy, forgot what day it was.”

“Busy with what?” You click your tongue, lifting his head back up with your hands under his head. You search his hungry eyes, making a decision you could regret in the long run.

“If I let you feed, will you be able to get rid of the goblins?”

That has him picking his head back up, waking him up from his hungry stupor. “What—?”

You reiterate, voice determined. “If I let you drink from me can you get your strength back and get rid of the little fuckers?”

“Y/N, I can't let you do that.”

“I know what happens if you don't feed and judging by how the goblins are devouring your entire house like some frat, they aren't leaving soon enough.” You ball his shirt in your hands for emphasis. “I'm letting you drink, just this one time so we could all go home.”

“Are you really sure?”

“Just don't turn me into your spawn, deal?”

Hobie cracks a smile, fangs glinting off the basement lights. You suddenly feel your nerves kicking in.

“I promise I won't. Just tell me if it gets too much, yeah?”

“Okay,” you inhale deeply, tugging down the collar of your shirt, showing him what he needs. “Don't drink me dry.”

“That depends, for all I know you taste brilliantly.” His joke alleviates your fear a little. You're both unaware of the cameras watching, recording everything. Even forgetting that they were there in the first place.

His hand is on the back of your neck, the other is gripping on to your arm like his life depends on it. Eyeing your skin, lips brushing along it, fangs barely piercing, he gives you enough time to lean away.

“Hurry on with it, I need to pee.”

With a deep chuckle, he sinks his teeth in you.

Gasping, you bite down on your bottom lip, stifling any sounds. But Hobie can hear them from your chest, feel how your body quivers with every suck and nip from his teeth.

You whimper and he holds on to you tighter.

He wants to devour you whole, his instincts tell him to ravage you until you're dry and limp in his arms— to rip you apart with his bare teeth. But he doesn't, he's careful and gentle like he's drinking nectar straight from a flower.

“F-fuck…” you let out, hands shaking, sliding down to the back of his neck, pressing him closer.

He turns warmer with your crimson flowing through him, not letting a single drop of the precious liquid dribble from his mouth.

Hobie feels like his dead heart beats once again after centuries.

Eyes closed, you feel like you're on cloud nine. You look like it too, eyes hazy, lips parted, hand holding on to him weakly.

Before he could drown in you, Hobie carefully eases his teeth out from your pierced skin, maw covered in your blood, thumb pressing down to your wounds to stop the bleeding.

It will scar, but you're alright with that thought.

He feels anew. His eyes are sharper, adrenaline coursing through him like your blood in his system. His ears perked at every breath you let out. Eyes blown up like the size of dinner plates, his warm breath fans your cheeks.

Half of him regrets doing it, now that he has gotten a taste, he can't go back to biting random rich assholes. His other half delights in your after taste, so sweet and nectarine that makes him crave more.

You crane your neck slowly like molasses to look at him sweetly through your half lidded eyes, and a soft yet tired smile on your lips. Still clinging into euphoria, vision swirling and heart beating a thousand times per second. You feel like you've ascended and you'll never go down from it.

Licking his teeth, Hobie resists the urge to dive back in. But he's more than that, you're more than a blood bag.

“You alright?” He whispers, he smells like you.

You hum, smiling giddily like a child who just got what she wanted.

“‘m gonna go and kill some goblins now. Stay here for me?”

You hum a tune that sounds like a rendition of ‘happy birthday.’ Giggling, you pat his cheek.

“Yeah, you'll be alright. I'll get you some orange juice after this.”

“Orange sounds nice… such a pretty color. And cookies, yum.” You chortle like you just heard the best joke. “Oh handsome, so handsome. I'm gonna bite you back one day.” Staring up at him, your eyes roll back, falling unconscious.

“Lookin' forward to it.”

Hobie gently lays you down on the floor, standing up, ears listening to your fast heart beat, but it's not enough proof for him. Eyes observing your chest, watching it go up and down, making sure he didn't go too far. Satisfied, he points at the crew cowering in the corner, their cameras still rolling. The documentary won't air anywhere at this rate.

“Watch her.” He says sternly, eyes glaring.

They all nod frantically.

With a swift kick to the metal door, he strikes down every goblin he sees.

—

You sit on the same patchwork armchair, sipping on a warm cup of tea, comfortable and content in your seat. The two pin prick scars on your neck peeks under your collar. The camera has you in the spotlight, zoomed in on your freshly washed face.

“Do you know about the curse?” The man behind the camera asks, his voice wavering with every word like it's taboo to mention it.

“What curse?” You watch as their faces morph into panic. “I'm fucking with you,” you laugh at their expense.

“Of course I know about it. Why do you think I hunt him down? For fun? Well, partly because of it but we broke that curse like five generations ago when my ancestor figured it all out and made friends with the witch.”

Smiling fondly, you continue. “She's my godmother now. Don't tell him.” You warn. “Hunting him down is an initiation for us really, a tradition to try and kill him, just really doing our best to cause damage. He's pretty powerful.”

Laying your elbows on your knees, you look directly at the camera.

“I mean you've seen the room right? He's fucking obsessed, someone has to off him or just—I honestly think he should just move on.” shrugging you sip your tea that he made for you.

“Is that why you're living with him?” They ask unabashedly. The camera zooms out, showing you still in your pajamas, complete with fluffy slippers.

“Uh—”

Hobie appears in the corner, leaning on the doorway casually, a similar pajama pants hanging low on his hips.

“Darling, have you seen my good jumper—?”

You take your crossbow from under the chair, twisting in your seat, you aim it at his head, shooting, the arrow whizzes past him, he ducks down as the arrow imbeds into the oak.

Hobie laughs on the floor, lifting up a black and red jumper. “Found it!”

“Goddamnit.” The word is laced with endearment. You turn back towards the crew, eyes narrowed at them. “Wait, why are you guys here so early?”

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

A/N: Thank you for reading! And happy 1k! 🎉

[m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s]

Requests, yay!! Thank you for blessing tumblr with your bright presence! ✨️

So, I was thinking... I'd like to request something with our handsome and beloved Crosshair and a female reader perhaps involving a cozy rainy evening in a coffee shop? I'm in a very big coffee and cozy mood and some fluff with Crosshair would maybe really hit the spot. One shot or headcanons would be alright, just wirte whatever you wish. I know it'll be lovely! And thank you again for doing this ✨️🩷

OMG I HAD SO MUCH FUN DOING THIS ONE!!!

i had to ponder on it forever, but once i thought of the idea, the spring sprung fr.

hope you enjoy!! :)

—

Crosshair x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,169 words

Warnings: talking of the war, army, battles, being away (only mentioned once or twice)

Genre: VERY VERY FLUFFY, LIKE SUPER FLUFFY

Description: A day out with Crosshair takes a sweet, and rainy turn.

—

Rainy Days & Mochas

—

“You know it’s going to rain soon, right?”

Extending arms of oak trees hung above your head, crisp air nipping your nose as you looked above. Cinnamon, ochres, pecans, and crimsons fluttered above on the branches in the shape of leaves. Just beyond, through the autumnal rainbow, distant rain clouds could be spotted. 

You also spotted him.

“I’m ignoring the rain.”

Fortunately, the Batch had gotten a week of shore leave after months of being on the go. A never ending war in sight, always something to tend to, and also some droid army to take down. 

In the here and now though, there was a handsome sniper in your sights. One that was holding your hand and walking with you in this quiet autumn world. 

That in itself could demolish any thought of how quickly the week felt like it was drifting by.

“How can you ignore the rain if it’s getting ready to rain?” You questioned, smiling to yourself at the repetitive asks.

Crosshair’s warm chuckle rang out into the autumn touched park the pair of you were walking in. 

He had wanted to take you out today, spend time with you. Just be with you.

Despite how cold it was from the autumn air, your heart failed to be chilled. 

“I’m ignoring it because I’m focusing on you,” Crosshair said, turning to you. The softness dulled those hard edges you had seen on occasion. Late nights where he came to your apartment, seeking the comfort he would never have out on the battlefield. 

He was out of his gear for once as well, donning a ebony turtleneck, blue jeans, and that damned jacket that still sent butterflies through your stomach. It was tawny corduroy, fluffy white lining poking out of the collar. It smelt like him, warm oceanic musk, pine, and that hint of his polish he used on his beloved sniper. 

That jacket stayed with you, a token to remember him while he was away. For now though, you didn’t have to remember. He was here, and that’s what mattered.

“What’s got your mind in a twist, darlin’?” Crosshair asked, hands coming to cradle your face.

You looked to Crosshair, thoughts dwindling away. 

“Nothing. Just you.” You leaned into his touch, craving it. He smiled, coming close to pepper your nose with kisses.

Little pitter patters of water began to sprinkle on your shoulders, sending a chill through your spine.

It had begun to rain.

“I told you it was going to rain,” you stated, the simplicity of it amusing you. The weather began to pick up, the rain coming down faster, pouring from the sky.

“Crosshair!” You exclaimed, drops beginning to splash on your head.

“Let’s run!” He yelled, a smile tugging on his face.

He was already grabbing your hand, pulling you along as you ran through the park you had been enjoying. Giggles spilled from both of you, darting among rain and falling leaves. It wasn’t long before you came back to the streets of the city, making your way quickly across the road to a random business. 

Shelter.

Coffee beans?

Crosshair had pulled you two into a quaint little coffee shop, the smell of hot drinks and warm pastries tingling your nose as you both entered. 

“Crosshair!”

You shook in laughter, cold splatters of leftover rain water hitting you as he had bent over to shake his hair of water. He stood back up, another warm smile greeting your eyes. 

“Sorry, darlin’. I suppose I’ll just have to buy you a drink to warm you up.”

He didn’t wait for your answer, already making his way towards the counter to order. You moseyed your way to a back corner table, taking off your jacket and settling into the worn booth seats. It was cozy, almost nostalgic in how warm and inviting it was.

“I love when you wear that sweater.”

Crosshair had returned, carrying a pastry bag, two coffees, and that lovey dovey look he always seemed to wear around you. 

He was referencing what you were wearing, an amaranth sleeved sweater, chunky and warm in the best way for the fall weather. You gave him a smile, giggling as he came to cozy up next to you. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, pulling you into his side. Despite the rain pounding against the windows of the little shop, the cold didn’t reach you in Cross’s warmth.

“So… you come here often, darlin’?”

You laughed, the sound bouncing in the carefree atmosphere. 

“It’s my first time. How about you?”

You hadn’t missed how Crosshair had pulled the two of you into the cute cafe, knowing it was a hobby of his to taste different beverages from the beloved coffee beans. Iced, warmed, cream, no cream, he loved it all. He thought he was being sneaky, but you knew his antics.

“Ah, it’s my first time with my girl. Though I know for a fact this place has the best mochas this side of town.”

“This side of town?”

“What? I had to explore the other cafes and coffee houses.”

That made you both laugh. 

Crosshair reached forward across the table, bringing two russet orange mugs closer to you. When the mugs reached your eyes, foamy sweetness with little chocolate chunks decorating the snowy top of the drink appeared. Beneath, you had a feeling a hot caffeinated drink was hidden. You also noticed a warm chocolate croissant being taken out of the little paper bag it was in. 

You looked up, meeting expectant eyes. Crosshair always shared everything with you about his little hobby, describing the drinks in detail. It was like poetry, how the flavor swirled in his mouth, or how the sugar had almost been a touch too much. 

He was waiting for you to try it, and you could do with some more warmth. 

Not that you needed it, not with him.

You raised the cup to your lips, taking a sip of the hot drink. 

Decadent, sweet, but bitter. Somehow, it all worked together, creating a drink you actually loved.

“Okay, that is so good,” You mumbled, taking another sip, hand already reaching for the croissant. 

“I knew you would like it,” Crosshair murmured, arm squeezing you closer than you already were. He pressed another peck to your forehead, smiling against your skin. 

Your gaze turned to the window, noting how the autumn day had turned quite rainy and chilled. Thoughts of running home in the rain with Crosshair sprung to your mind, knowing you both would be soaked by the time you made it to your apartment. 

“Your mind’s in a twist again, darlin’,” Crosshair spoke, his warm smile making your heart stutter.

It was your turn to greet him with your smile, arms wrapping around him.

“Just thinking of you and the rain.”

His laugh rang out again.

How you could never tire of the musical sound.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll keep you warm.”

And you knew he would make good on that promise.

—

tagging the fabulous @moonstrider9904, as well as a few others! @nahoney22 @hellothere-generalangsty @eyecandyeoz @baddest-batchers @leenabb104104 @dalu-grantkylo @ladysaturnsdust

If any of those tagged, or anyone else is interested in being on my taglist, here is the form to fill it out, or leave your interest in the comments. You can also find my taglist form on my pinned post!

Taglist Form

[the-somwthing]

I gotta talk to people so bad so I’m just gonna spout something that’s been on my mind for a while

I see a lot of people always describing Joel and Scott’s rivalry as one sided. Like, Joel just hates Scott and Scott doesn’t care? And while I feel like that statement is technically true, it doesn’t really describe the situation very well.

It sort of implies that Scott’s never out to get Joel, and Joel is just coming after Scott for no reason. I won’t deny that Joel does like to come after Scott without provocation sometimes, but like… we are ignoring the fact that 3/5 Joel final deaths have been at Scott’s hand?

In two seasons, those kills were a result of a deliberate hunt to get rid of Joel specifically. In Last Life, I’ll give him a bit of a pass, since Joel did kind of start the fight with a big explosion and had been the “villain” for the entire season, it makes enough sense to try to end him like that.

But in LIMITED LIFE?? As a Joel viewer I am NEVER getting over the feeling of watching his final episode (not negative, just baffling in a way I find pretty fun lol). Scott randomly says “Joel needs to die” and everyone just agrees I guess? And then Joel is being witch hunted. “Oh but it’s because he was getting so many kills! Duh!” Grian had more. Grian LITERALLY got a quad kill (ON SCOTT FOR THAT MATTER) and Scott’s like “JOEL is the problem, the murderous evil of the server”. LIKE HELLO?? They’re literally allies, Scott could’ve said “we need to get rid of the bad boys” but he was COOL with Grian. He was letting Grian LIVE. Like HELLO??? WHAT DID JOEL DO FR 😭 Joel was literally just trying to survive btw, his fighting back was very defensive rather than offensive, and would back off when not being actively attacked. With the exception of trying to get kills cuz he was on less than ten minutes, of course. But Scott had been hunting him before then.

And then I guess I have to mention Secret Life’s Scott-Killing-Joel. I don’t think that final kill was especially targeted on either of their sides, the battle just turned out that way. I could rewatch to see if there’s more to it but for now this is how I see it.

Okay, I’m turning this into a full analysis of their rivalry, idc, I’m literally obsessed with their dynamic. I’m adding a cut here.

ALRIGHT WHERE WAS I. RIGHT. Finished explaining the final deaths, but there’s stuff before that! Let’s take a look at their rivalry 🥰

Let’s go in order, shall we? 3rd Life!! I am obsessed with them in this season ahahahhaga anyways. Joel comes after Scott unprovoked. Simple, this is how everyone sees their rivalry. HOWEVER. Joel is FULLY WILLING to work with him anyways. Maybe you could excuse the dark oak thing as it was early on and they were just trying to take down a monopoly. But in the finale they reconcile and spend much of the session together. They established early on that Joel had been trying to kill Scott, but they’re both perfectly happy to team up instead (which btw they did because they both happened to be allied with Scar).

Then Last Life. Joel does hate Scott in it, but I’m not sure I would say it’s without reason. Joel being boogey in ep2 was majorly important, and he killed Scott. But that wasn’t targeted. He had attempted multiple times to kill other people. Scott was one of the only (and closest) people who didn’t already know he was boogeyman. Then of course Scott tells Pearl they can fight back and has her kill Joel, sending him to red. Perfectly reasonable for all parties imo, and a good enough reason for Joel to target Scott seeing as being red early on had a huge impact on him.

Of course LL is also where Joel says Scott just looked at him funny one day and that’s why he hates him, which is a great line. I do believe he would bother Scott just for the rivalry, but unlike in 3rd Life, Scott had done things to make Joel never consider stopping.

Then Double Life. Erm. Literally nothing, except that I believe the only reason Scott and Pearl were the last pair is because Joel wasn’t there to kill them, since apparently he’s the only one who can make them lose lives. Wild. They were guaranteed to win ever since the lava portal trap. (obviously I’m joking but like how is he the only outside force to kill that pair). I will clarify for analysis sake that Joel’s first kill on them had nothing to do with Scott, and the second kill was to Scott but it was because of the life colors, not really anything about their rivalry. It was technically targeted at Scott specifically but not cuz he hated him, instead because Pearl had a weird “alliance” with the reds.

Then Limited Life!!! What the heeelll was happening lmao. I already talked about the final moment so before that. Erm. I’m blanking out I’m listening to bad romance it’s distracting me. You know what let’s move on I can’t remember what they did, the final death I explained previously is enough data for now.

Secret Life. Oh boy. I’ll say it again, I was secretly hoping for more Scott/Joel dynamic when it started but I doubted it would happen but we got FED!!! I was so excited when I saw the assassin task (as was Joel). Anyways. Throughout the season Joel was doing the whole hating Scott thing, Scott caught onto the bit and played into it somewhat by talking more about how Joel always hates him for no reason. We SHOULD be able to disregard Joel targeting Scott for the assassin task as it was a task, but to be fair after reading it Joel said “oh my gosh is this my dream?” He was super happy to be assigned to assassinate Scott LMAO. That has to count for something.

I feel like the rivalry was fairly obvious, so I need to point out the outlier moments in SL. While Joel goes on about how Scott should die, he happily trades with him and swapped gifted hearts with zero hesitation. In the final session, he and Scott ended up on the same side. I believe Joel may have been slightly annoyed at being on a team with him but accepts it nonetheless. The only reason Scott ends up killing Joel is because their team won, so they had to turn on each other. As previously stated it wasn’t especially targeted, it was a 2v2.

And then if you noticed from me saying 3/5 games, I’m not counting Real Life, but I’ll bring it up here. Scott literally says “since it’s real life we can be friends now since we’re friends in real life” (one of the many reasons I consider RL noncanon tbh, Scott literally mentions in-universe that this season is different so they can act differently, also what is the in-universe explanation for “friends in real life”). Aside from a reminder that Joel doesn’t actually hate Scott irl and this is just fun game rp stuff, this shows that Scott really did catch onto the rivalry bit, and really does just bring it up more. Joel had just arrived when Scott brought it up. Joel agrees to being friends in Real Life. This holds little relevance to my analysis since I don’t view RL as canon but you can keep it in mind.

Now that I’ve laid out their rivalry in a simplified summary, let me ACTUALLY analyze it! What did I mean all the way back at the start of the post when I said “Scott and Joel’s rivalry being one sided is somewhat accurate but I feel it misrepresents their relationship”?

Well, I believe it’s true that (at least up until Secret Life), Scott didn’t care about the rivalry while Joel did. But that doesn’t mean Scott never targeted Joel, as I said he’s witch-hunted him twice. It’s just it was never personal to Scott. I once saw a post(s) I really enjoyed, an analysis on Scott. Saying that he doesn’t actually value being loyal, he values being fair. Then there was the addition that it’s based on what he thinks is fair. I feel like this is 100% true for his thing with Joel. Scott views Joel as a force that has to be stopped, he’s gone too far, he needs to be stopped, it’s only fair for all the suffering he’s caused. He doesn’t stop to think about how killing is the whole point of this game, how other people are doing the same things, how many times he has killed Joel. Joel hasn’t killed Scott permanently before, he has killed him though, but not as much as Scott has killed Joel. To Scott, that doesn’t matter, Scott kills Joel for a reason, for justice, while Joel kills just for the sake of it. Whether or not that idea is true is up to you to interpret for yourself, but to Scott it’s true. Joel is more of a wildfire that needs to be put out than a rival.

Let’s look at Joel’s side of things. He does hate Scott and target him for no reason. The rivalry is one sided, where Joel sees a rival Scott sees some random danger that needs to be dealt with. I can’t tell you why Joel hates Scott. It’s not really the point of my analysis. I’ve seen ppl say it’s because of previous series they’ve had together (they’ve been rivals for ages!) but for my headcanons they don’t remember those, tho very few feelings from their past lives may linger, so perhaps that does explain it. For the sake of my analysis though we won’t be looking deep into why Joel likes to poke at Scott. It’s cuz he looked at him funny one day remember?

So we establish that Joel needlessly attacks Scott. But if you’ll notice from my summaries, he is fully willing to put aside that hatred. It’s conditional (yes it is the default, but still). If Scott treats Joel kindly, Joel will attempt to reciprocate it. Let’s look at this again:

3L: Joel targets Scott, Scott kind of just gives him a disapproving look every time and doesn’t fight back. Joel ends up feeling somewhat guilty, and in the end has no problems teaming up with Scott.

LL: Scott was the main cause of Joel turning red, Joel targets him constantly. Scott ends up permanently killing Joel to put an end to his madness.

DL: erm. Well it’s worth mentioning Joel never specifically targeted Scott for no reason. ALSO WORTH MENTIONING SCOTT BURNED THE RELATION??? This season was a bit of a switch-up. I need to rewatch to see if Scott had any good reason to do that lmao I don’t really remember, I hardly remembered he was responsible.

LimL: Scott deems Joel to be a server menace who needs to die, Joel (who doesn’t really understand why he needs to die) tries negotiating many times but Scott insists. He kills Joel.

SL: Joel gets task to target Scott, is thrilled. He fails miserably, losing people he cares about in the process. Vows to kill Scott, it’s like his main goal now. Still accepts every peace offering from Scott with little to no hesitation, to the point of eventually teaming with him until they’re forced to go against each other and Scott kills Joel again.

So basically you can see, every time Scott does something to wrong Joel, Joel goes hard on the rivalry, while if he doesn’t and offers peace, Joel will lay off. Secret Life was a weird middle ground, where Scott had done things to wrong Joel, however those things weren’t entirely his fault so when he offered peace to Joel, Joel would still accept. A confusing time for Joel I’m sure.

I will say a disclaimer here, I’m not saying Scott shouldn’t ever fight back against Joel. If he’s targeting you for no reason, it’s your decision if you’ll try to befriend him to make him stop or fight back. I support fighting back. I’m just saying that befriending him is a proven method to work, but I don’t think Scott has exactly noticed that and instead just assumes that Joel will stop at nothing to end him.

Another thing I wanted to talk about but forgot what the natural and intuitive transition into it was gonna be. Scott has permakilled Joel 3 times. Joel has permakilled Scott 0 times.

Joel had started the series off picking on Scott for no reason, and has never succeeded. Scott has won this battle three times. At this point, it’s honestly finally somewhat justified for Joel to come after Scott. That guy has specifically targeted and hunted him out of 2 seasons, and took him out of a 3rd as well. Joel has taken Scott out of 0. At this point, I feel like Joel needs that closure, to finally kill Scott, and who knows if he’ll ever get it. If you look at the fandom, even fans are hoping Joel will kill Scott because of this. So imagine how Joel feels! But obviously Scott wouldn’t just let him (okay. Well. Actually. It’s Scott. He kind of lets people do that all the time. But only allies…). Scott will be waiting for Joel to target him once more, and deal with it the way he always does. But who knows if it’ll turn out different?

Which reminds me that I pinpoint SL as the season Scott finally notices this “one sided rivalry”. We all know Scott loves drama, so when he finally noticed Joel had been hating him the whole time, he kept bringing it up. And it wasn’t just for SL only, he brought it up the moment he saw Joel in RL. I don’t count RL as canon but it does prove that Scott hasn’t let go of the rivalry now that he’s finally realized it. I don’t know if there will be a 6th season, but if so I wouldn’t be surprised if Scott brings up the rivalry. Idk if he would make it a big deal, but he would surely at least mention it.

Anyways, if you think I’m done with my little analysis, you’re wrong!!! I’m done with the things I see as pretty factual, but now we’re gonna get into more fanon headcanony type of territory!!!

…but, maybe I’ll make that its own post. Stay tuned and thanks for reading!

[eerna]

I think the big problem witht the fan service in TPT was that it was to throw in your face.Fan service is good when you fell natural but simultaneously you could tell that is fan service.I rolled my eyes at taryn divine punishment it felt like she gave the fans what they wanted since qon(the whole taryn didnt got a punishment was always funny to me they were acting like having locke as a husband wasnt one)

I understand why HB tried to please as much people she could with it since from what i saw even people who enjoyed her other faerie books weren't big fans of TSH.I agree with J and C don't make good mcs anymore thei arcs endet and most of their problems were solved in a good note.

TPT tried to be a lot of things at once:

1.Fan service

2.the conclusion of the story

3.a bridge for her undersea book

4.Romantasy( marketed like this)

And fails at being a good structured story.(for a book marketed like a romantasy the romance was so little and rushed at the end)

From what i saw a lot of people started hating wren after TPT wich i understand in a measure since she was so little and most of her scene were not in a favorable light.(shes still my fav Tsh character and i love her but her arc was practically non-existent)

I enjoyed oak a lot maybe bc im a sucker for his type of character but i think it could have been done more with his character.

I don't know how a undersea book in jurdan pov will be but i dont think it would be a good one since what they will narate especially in the undersea!

Yeah, you laid it out very well. I am NOT above fanservice. I friggin love the stuff. Case in point: the way I was SO INSANELY HYPED for TPT because they promoted it with Madoc household content which are words to my heart. But the issue is when the fanservice overshadows everything else. Case in point: Wren becoming a side character in her own duology so that Oak's main storyline can happen with Jude. I legit can't blame anyone who hates her after TPT because oh my god her writing was SO BAD in that second book. You can't just have your character do the vilest cruelest thing in the world to her love interest and then remove her from page and later say that she was just manipulated and blackmailed into being mean and is ready for love now. Imagine if the everapple scene happened and then Balekin convinced Cardan to give him an oath of allegiance that kept Cardan on Madoc's side for the rest of the plot except for romance scenes and then in the end he and Jude still got together. BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT HAPPENED TO WREN. Well not exactly because she had a POV book first BUT YOU GET WHAT I MEAN.

Even the Oak-Jude storyline was not all it could have been. HB tried to give them a similar dynamic that Madoc and Jude had, where Oak isn't sure if Jude truly loves him and if she would sacrifice him if she suspected he worked against her. But there is no real tension because we KNOW Jude would never do that because like. That's the entire point of TFotA. I think that Oak slowly growing to resent his family was a fantastic concept, but the book barely gave it any screentime before it was solved. It's like HB didn't want to do anything too uncomfortable because this time around she would have to make Jude and Cardan his problematic parental figures, and that goes against every single rule of fanservice. So we get the worst of both worlds: Oak is a messed up kid doing very self destructive things that Jude is responsible for, but we can't explore them or treat them as very bad because that would make Jude look bad, and who wants to read a book about their fave girlboss accidentally ruining her baby brother's life? (Me I do oh my god I was looking forward to it so much I am still heartbroken)

There's still hope that the Undersea book won't be Jurdan POV, and I am manifesting it so much, because you're so right I have 0 confidence that I would like it.

(Marrying Locke was all the punishment Taryn needed fr. Rest in pepperoni loser)

[justablah56]

Ring Off by Beyoncé is I think a song for Autumn Oak. obviously the original context of the song is a daughter singing this for her mother, but I don't think it's Henry singing it, I think it's Mercedes. after Autumn comes back to earth with them and Mercedes hears her story. mostly because I don't see Henry talking about his mom that way but I can easily Mercedes having this kind of relationship with her mother-in-law

gonna be so real with you rn I have never heard that song and I had to go listen to it sbndnsndnd BUT ! I have now listened to it and !!!!! you are so right !!!!!!!!!! it's late and my brain is too tired to like . pull out specific parts to just circle in a messy red crayon like yeah yeah yeah this part . but know that you are fr so correct about this , that's so real

[cyberexo]

Keep it Down! | Park Chanyeol x Fem Reader

“Your head is going to end up on a stick if you don’t shut up!”

word count: 1K

≪•◦ 0.1 🎧 0.1 ◦•≫

You sighed for the umpteenth time that day, already missing the lonely feeling of having no neighbour for the past couple of months, you'd do anything to go back, but you can't because now you're stuck with a tall empty headed doofus that doesn't know how to keep quiet.

He better thank god we don't share an apartment, I would've killed him a long time ago.

Park Chanyeol, he shared the 5th floor with in your apartment complex, and even though they were two separate apartments, that didn't stop him from making it feel like he was right there, screaming in your ear, making your eardrums feel like they were about to erupt. At first he seemed so sweet and kept to himself, the perfect type of neighbour to accompany yourself with, you were working full time as a nurse and worked long shifts with no mercy from your higher ups, during the day & night- sometimes you would just sleep at the hospital because you had absolutely no time to get home, by the time you would, you'd be lucky to sneak in an hours nap before you'd have to get up again.

The only reason you’re letting him get away with such disturbing buffoonery was because of how nice he was towards you at the start, he knew you were a nurse, always tried his best to keep quiet when he was alone or had friends over whenever you were home, letting them know that a hard working woman was next door trying sleep. And most times they’d be very understanding and stay quiet, they were only loud when you weren’t home, you had a sign up on your door saying you weren’t home in case anyone came knocking.

Of course because you were away too much you could give that idiot the benefit of the doubt that he just got used to you being away. But you should’ve known better, this was just a slick way for him to get you to be fond of him and his ruckus when the time was right, or maybe this was you letting off some steam? either way, you were home now and the no sign on the door was a clear indicator of such.

You sighed, again. Kicking your legs off your bed and sliding on your slippers, not caring to take a look in the mirror before you stomped your way to the door, unlocking it slowly whilst trying to get your thoughts in order. Stepping out into the cold landing that was between your apartments you got closer to his door, listening in to see how many voices you could pick up.

Sounds like it's only him.

You lazily lifted your hand up to knock on his door, but it swung open before you could even make contact with the cold oak wood.

"AH-"

Chanyeol lurched himself back into his apartment, startled by your sudden presence. With his hand on his heart and eyes squeezed shut as he tried to get back up on his feet. "Are you crazy? you almost gave me a heart attack!" he half screamed at you, finally on his feet and standing tall.

“Good! maybe then I wouldn’t have to suffer with this insufferable loudness of you and those speakers that I’m going to break over your big head!” you countered, folding your arms over your chest trying to look intimidating, of course him being the scaredy-cat he was, it worked- at least you think it did.

“I didn’t know you were home-“ “There’s no sign on my door doofus, I AM home. Now please for the last time, keep. It. Down!” and with that you spun back around and zoomed back into your apartment, slamming your door shut and locking it, leaving Chanyeol standing outside looking dumbfounded.

"Wow, she really needs a firework up her ass,"

≪•◦ 🎧 ◦•≫

Chanyeol made sure to check your door for any sign of you not being in every morning when he'd get up, trying to be considerate of your situation, when he moved into the complex he wasn't all that interested in the residents living in the same building as him, he just wanted more studio space, space for himself and also to be closer to friends & family so it was all convenient for him.

The day he moved in, for once you were home. Helping him move his boxes inside and even made him cookies to make him feel more welcomed, that gesture alone made Chanyeol grow fond of you overnight. It was nice being reminded that there was still hope in humanity and it just so happened to be his neighbour as well. He told you about his plans and why he was moving in here, you reciprocated by telling him where you work and that you may not be home often- making him appreciate your friendly gestures towards him even more.

Sooner or later he'd gotten accustomed to his new home and surroundings, and he'd check for the sign on your door and let his friends know when to keep it quiet. But now you were barely home, and he'd only check the door if he remembers to, 90% you weren't which is why the volumes emitting from his home had gotten nothing but louder. The walls in the complex were far from thin, but they weren't soundproof either.

He thought back on your little outburst just minutes ago, recalling your outfit of the day, clearly you had planned to stay in bed since you rocked up to his door in nothing but your black satin sleep dress and fluffy slippers to match, the way it adorned your curves perfectly. Not to mention that black, was his favourite colour. Chanyeol gulped at the vivid image in his mind, it being a while since he’s seen a woman with so much on display for him, leaving little to the imagination- wait.. you weren’t dressed for him, this was just what you wore around your apartment.

Now that he’s seen you like this, he won’t be able to unsee it. Sorry not sorry that’s just how men are, you were now his interest. He let a mischievous grin paint his pretty face, already thinking of a couple of ideas that wouldn’t appease to no one but himself.

“This is going to be so much fun!”

0.2

[ethereal-forest-furry]

highbush blueberries covered in flowers.. i love them theyre so funky and silly looking and it makes me rlly happy. theyre like little bells

tip for growing blueberries!!! everyone says they need like super duper acidic soil to grow, which they do like, but it's not 100% necessary. what they rlly need is chelated iron (plus some other nutrients but iron is the most important here) which most plants can get by breaking down the iron in the soil through their roots. blueberries are rlly well adapted to acidic soil - and as part of that adaptation theyve lost the ability to break down iron because they rely on acids in the soil to do it for them. There is another way they can get it tho!!! remember when i said other plants break down iron?? if the blueberries can form a mycorrhizal relationship (plant equivalent of mutual aid networks. using fungi. literally my fav thing) then the surrounding plants can give their iron to the blueberries :3 grasses are the best at doing this, especially if you cut the grass occasionally bc it makes the roots die back a bit and release all their nutrients into the soil around the blueberries. im sure it helps that mine are next to a lot of old oaks and poplars that probably have loads of nutrients and connections to the whole forest by now

some ppl try to use various chemicals to grow blueberries, which i get but its harmful to the soil and just rlly expensive and unnecessary... all u need is grass/trees and fungi :3 just take care of the soil!!!

theres a bunch of these scattered around the garden and every year when they bloom you can hear the bees from a few feet away - so many different kinds of bumblebees, honeybees, mason bees, and all the others that idk bc im not a bee expert :P they LOVE blueberries fr if you like bees and yummy snacks (especially if ur in their native range) these are like the best thing to plant

last year the berries all got infected with some kinda fungus right before they turned ripe 3:< hoping that doesnt happen again. if anyone knows how to keep them safe pls lmk :3

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

because i am sad, don't have my nina meds and have the personality of tissue paper rn, will you take pity on me, pretty girl, and pray tell what the locations look like in ur fics? like how you imagine south park looks, maybe stan and kyle's old bed rooms, the sp survivor haus? starks pond, the vibes and stuff -- you can be as hyper specific as you want i really like detail and visualizing things <3 also you

Melda Tâe I sincerely hope this is a bright spot in the Sadsack!!! This is such a great ask too like what does the HWB elven palace look like? The train station in WGSIES? The Broken Bottle Quartet apt complex? Heidi’s coffee shop in ATLCTS? The bistro where ojv Craig and Kyle have Nerd Boy Time? The TWITR bunkhouse?

And I’ve said on multiple occasions that I suck an unfathomable amount of ass at actually putting setting descriptions into my fics. Not because I’m picturing scenes playing out in a blank void, or bc I’m not picturing things clearly, but 1) I fully convince myself that no one wants to read my boring drawn out descriptions, which is stupid and I’m aware of that bc I LOVEEEEE vivid imagery when I’m reading 2) I often forget that no one is envisioning what I am without visual explanations lmfao it’s just so There to me I forget my readers don’t live in my cursed brain 3) I have such a habit of getting too into Witty Banter™️ and I’ll write so much dialogue with the occasional action and realize I haven’t said shit about what the setting looks like

But boy oh boy do I have specific pictures in mind! Especially regarding settings. (God I need to make a fuckin Pinterest omg the OJV board alone would go stupid)

I’m gonna be so fuckin fr right now, I have way too many AU’s and I will be unhinged abt a lot of them, so, below the cut!

So, as a surprise to absolutely no one, I’m starting with the OrangeJuiceVerse!

That bizarre town our kids grew up in is very typical suburbia, with neatly arranged near identical houses and blacktop roads that the snow plow goes through the same time every morning. Downtown holds the major businesses and across the tracks, not even a block over from the main neighborhoods, is the handful of “ghetto” houses, right by the woods. And through those woods, with a small single lane street that is far too narrow and winding to be safe? Stark’s Pond. The clearing in the tree canopy that the parking lot provides is the best stargazing spot, far enough away from the minimal light pollution that a tiny mountain town emits. It’s not just a pond, more of a park, with a field next to the water that’s a well traversed snowball fight battleground and a single bench under an ancient oak tree. The pond freezes and that’s how you know winter is truly underway. Kids slipping and sliding on the ice with no adult supervision is the standard here. In the summer, the water is still so cold, fed by mountain runoff. The surrounding shore is rocky and the m5 regularly compete to see who can find the coolest stone in the gravel.

There’s an elementary school, middle school, and high school, all in the same block and sharing a parking lot. Makes it easy for bus drivers and parents dropping off their kids. The high school is WAY bigger than is warranted for how small the town is, and there’s a separate building for band and av club. The football “stadium” isn’t much, the bleachers are only a few rows high and the field house is little more than a locker room, the concession stand is tiny and only run by student council members, and the cow painted into the turf over the 50 yrd line is lopsided. The gym where pep rallies and volleyball and basketball games are held has better seating, but football is a big damn deal in sp and the whole town is crowded around the track fence if they don’t get a seat, cheering on the hometown boys on cold October nights with nothing but fireball and ridiculous amounts of school spirit in their systems.

Stan and Kyle practically live at each others houses growing up. They each have a “Super Best Sleepover Drawer” in the others rooms and when they were younger and still the same size? No one could tell who actually owned what clothing. Like, y’all dear god you are more intertwined than your fingers holding hands. Stan’s room is a messsssss! Especially when he’s not doing well mentally. And he holds on to every stray item so his dusty shelves are cluttered as hell. His pillows are flat as shit. Nothing in his closet has been folded properly in years. The only organized thing in that room is the record collection, the sheet music folder, and the dnd character breakdown. Kyle has stress cleaned Stan’s room before. And (think You Belong With Me music video) THEIR WINDOWS FACE EACH OTHER!!! Kyle’s room has so much of the same kind of decor as Stan’s, with the posters and the figurines and the wall of nostalgic Polaroids, but he’s so much more organized. Both the boys have Kenny Paintings, (Stan is the one mentioned in this and Kyle’s is one of him as the elf king when they’d play as youngsters) and Kyle’s is hung level on the wall and Stan has his propped on his desk.

Ohhhh man the SP Survivor Safehouse, I described it some here and it really is such a College Kid House!!! They found the cheapest place to rent close to campus that would fit the 5, and it’s a SHITHOLE! It’s old as fuck and falling apart, the foundation is crooked, the blueprint must’ve been drawn by someone with severe distraction problems because for a place that’s not all that big, it’s labyrinthine in its random layout and the out of place way too high to reach ledges and the fireplace but no chimney and the ridiculousness of the narrow backyard, doing laundry in that house is a NIGHTMARE like the washer is downstairs and the dryer is in a separate room upstairs that logistically should be a bathroom. The kitchen tile is so old and cracked, and there’s this weird half wall facing the living room with a window? Also the walls are thin as hell and that staircase? Good god. Steep as fuck, tilted to the left, no railing, everyone has fallen on the Widowmakers multiple times. The garage door doesn’t work. The water heater is older than god. But this is their house, and they make it work.

I also want to describe the waterfall from How We Began, as specific and random as that is lmao. Think Multinoma Falls in Oregon, with a long trail to the top and no man made bridge over it. And it freezes like that one waterfall in narnia. Completely solid, snow and frosted trees on both sides at the summit, just the perfect place to meditate and reflect, because the reflection off the ice is like a rippled mirror. (Actually and so fr I need art of chapter 12 so bad rip) that place is BEAUTIFUL with the mountains in the background, the icicles refracting light, pine trees with needles dusted with snow, large rocks overlooking the edge of the cliff and the forest surrounding it!!!

Oh damn also the Big House in The Webs In The Rafters is the most eerie looking house of all time. At the end of that twisting gravel drive, to the left of the western pasture, sits this giant black mansion. It looks wayyyy too gothic to be on a ranch. And most of the rooms are unused, that place feels cold and dark even when the farmhands are in for dinner at that huge table in the dining room. The upstairs office has all these strange carvings in the wooden walls, Craig’s massive granite desk is right in front of the window that sees the whole front part of the land. And both that house and the bunkhouse are ancient as the “haven” itself. The walls have crawlspaces big enough for a full grown person to fit in. Like there’s a maze in the walls. The upper pasture isn’t visible from the master bedroom at the back of the top floor, and there’s a tree by the pond that Butters’ ducks live in that’s the first thing the morning light touches. That spot, where Ken and butters had their first kiss in chapter 16, is the only place that doesn’t feel stifling on the entire land.

Dude the haunted house in In The Truly Gruesome! It is legit the most cheesy haunted house of all time, set up in what is essentially a double wide trailer, no bathroom, no kitchen, barely a tiny breakroom at the back, the decor is the cheapest spirit Halloween shit imaginable and just lame shit like a bowl of peeled grapes that are supposed to feel like eyeballs in the mad scientist area. That front office with its plywood walls and plastic door is the most unromantic setting for a love confession, but Stan and Kyle made it work. The breakroom “furniture” is a random hodgepodge of booths from a closed McDonald’s and tables someone found on the side of the street. The mini fridge has nothing in there but a moldy jar of pizza sauce and a single half drank mellow yellow. This place is absurd. I love it.

AND I loved this ask! You always send me such great things my beloved omg never stop! <3

[evansencezz]

ヘ(^_^ヘ)—ROMANTICITIZE ME, DIONYSUS—ヘ(^_^ヘ) —Every Ishito x Various—)♡

Notes: yes, baised off of the BTS song, i cant stop listening to them help me, various is greek gods, dionysus, apollo, they are my ocs though or interprataions, very ‘out of character’ greek mythology, loosely based on greek mythology, hints of modern/ 200’s AU, shes a journalist, she works for hades, mortal every, non-royal every, i love her, she doesn’t put up with anyones shit, multi-lengual every ofc, theres some greek, latin, and koeran in here, you rlly thought, drinking, smooking, smooking tabbaco, very rustic hints in here, dancing, ballrooms, i love her so much, they also have touches of BTS members in here, mainly more fluff, in my fluff era, comedy, hades is suposed to have the apperance of jin, all of apollos and artiemis’s are in koeran, hints of sad background, abadonment issues, greek lore, old termoniology, old beliefs, beliefs that woman should please men and only men, no homophobia though, believes that woman are weaker then men, sad love, star-gazing, there’s a kiss at the end, morally grey ending, she spends 7 weeks, one week with each of the gods, Aethena has the looks of Jimin, holy shit, fuckfest, smut everywhere, she fucks all the gods what tje fuck, litterally everything you could think of, insanity, std’s everywhere, jealousy, oh my god, happy valentines day post, give my girl a break holy shit, bow down bitches fr.

Every held her clipboard tighter to her as she walked down the long spiral staircase. By all logical reasons, she shouldn’t even be here right now. But hey, everything else had failed, so why not?!

“Ah..” She mummbled as she finally got off the final step.

She was in a bleak room and there was a small table sitting in the middle. A man was already sitting down, head held in his hand.

He perked up and his dark, honey eyes clased with her bright orange/amber ones. He placed a somewhat polite grin on his face.

“Ah hello, you must be Every Ishto, correct?” He asked.

His voice was deep, surpursingly deep. It had a slight comforting tone to it too..now for apprence, the male was ceritanely intimadating. Compared to Every, he could probably kill her in seconds.

He had dark, striaght and form fitting hair it also stopped right belpw his earlobe. It also stopped his bangs, shaddowing right above his eyebrows. He had a strong jaw-line and again, dark golden eyes.

His overall physic was toned, tannish. He was wearing a red and black suit with rings and a red pendant necklace. It reminded her of something.

“Miss Ishto??” He snapped his fingers.

The red haired girl jolted before grimnacing in embrassment. She held the clipboard tighter before making a slight bow gesture.

“Yes, that would be me..Mr.Hades..” She answered.

She was about to refer to him by his last name, but then relized, Greek goods didn’t have last names. They just weren’t a thing back then..

He only flashed a breif smile before gesturing towards the seat across from him.

“Please do take a seat.” He said.

The girl only nodded firmly and scampered over and sat down. She still held onto her clipboard though. Now that they were closer, she noticed he was BIG.

He basically had a looming presence even though hs was sat properly. Even from here, she could tell he smelled like oak and embers.

“It’s good to see that you don’t seem that afraid of me..” He breathed, looking away.

She wasn’t afraid of him, despite all common sense. Most mortals would probably freak out if they saw face to face with the god of death and underworld.

“I don’t see a reason to, you don’t look scary.” She blurted.

The girl immeditally grimnaced and slapped a hand over her mouth. He did look scary, frame wise. The books just got the looks part wrong.

He faced her again and eyed her, with a simper expression.

“Really? Why do you say that, now?” He questioned, seeming curious.

The girl only removed her mouth and hestaintely replied.

“Because..uhm..in our books your described as some revengeful spirt..and terrifying..but..you look..human enough to me..” She tried to clarify.

He, thankfully seemed satisfied with this as he smiled again. She never expected someone like this would smile so much.

“So, I’m assuming you know what I’m asking you to do for the job?” He visbly straightened a little.

Every smallely grinned and finally let go of her clipboard. She slid the clipboard closer and let him glance at it.

“Yes, this was the list of gods I was sent to interview? Double check it if you wish.” She shrugged.

Internally, she grimnaced and faceplamed. Was she seriously talking like this to the god of death?!

“Yep, besides me you have six to interview. Want me to give you a quick pitch on their personalities??” He offered.

The red haired girl immeditally nodded, eager. She wanted to know who she was going to be talking to..

“Ah okay well, the first one on your list is Aethena..just a quick warning, he’s not a girl. He prefers to be called Aethen, since he dislikes being refered to as a girl.” He explained.

The girl blinked a few times, that was surprsing..were all of them guys or something??

“As for personality, it’s very dual supported..he can be very agressive. But most of the time, he is very hospitol, just watch your mouth around him.” He warned.

At least that was simaliar to what she had read in books. Yeah, she was a avid reader of greek mythology. She also liked folklore, really anything mythological.

“Alright?” He tried to get her to react.

She only grunted and and watched as he lookex at the second person. Visbly grimnacing, he sighed.

“Ah, Dioynysus..” He breathed, laughing slightly.

Dioynsus, the god of wine and parties. From what Eve had read, he was a very..intresting character. He was said to have a sort of sleazy, yet fancy presence.

He was very casual and flirty for a god because of how much acohol and parties he hosted. Hades looked at her again.

“Dionysus is very..attention seeking. Odds are, he’ll take a intrest in you. All of them probably will, not much I can do about that.” He sighed.

She made a slight confused face and he laughed softly.

“It’s funny, your name is Eve. Or Every..y’know, like Eve from Adam and Eve??” He raised an eyebrow with a smile on his face while gazing at her.

She blinked a few times before making a ‘oh’ expression.

“I’m no godess.” Was all she replied with.

Hades paused for a second before bursting out in laughter. She tried not to flinch before sweat-dropping. Had she had something?

“Hahaha! Ah-your amusing for a mortal!” He said before laughing a little more.

She only smiled her nervously, one of her eyes shrinking slightly. What, by not saying she was the bibcal Eve?

“Anywaysss’, don’t mind him if he offers you a drink, I don’t care. Just try and get him to at least answer a few questions.” He slumped slightly.

She blinked before nodding, there wasn’t much she could say. He glanced at the next name and slumped further. He seemed pretty tired and relaxed.

“Posiedon. Ugh..” He groaned.

“He’s not the best person, right?” She boldly asked.

He perked up at this before staring at her for a few beats, making her nervous. Then, he burst out into laughter again.

“Yeah! He acts like he’s mensturating half of the time..Anyways, he has very bad mood swings. As said, I’m the oldest of us so..” He shrugged.

“He also threatens alot of people, on reflex. So if he does with you, just kind of brush it off, ok?” He grumbled.

She merly bit her lip and nodded. Could she stop noticing how attractive he was?! God, the neckace on his suit glinted and winked at her, so she decided to focus her eyes on that.

Unfourtnately, he seemed to notice as he hummed and grinned.

“Oh, this seems to have caughten your eye. Do you like it?”

“Uhm-Yes it’s very pretty.” She hestiated before answering.

He only hummed and looked down at the clipboard again. He only looked back up at her with a curious glint.

“Hm, Hephestaus, but before we talk about him..I must ask something..” He trailed off.

Every only leaned a tiny bit forward before straightening her posture.

“Yes?” She polteily inquired, edging him on.

“How exactly do you seem to know so much? I know that we have books written on us and stuff like I said before but you seem to know more then the average person.” He explained.

The female only leaned back with a knowing look on her face.

“I was always into greek mythology. But I guess I can’t really call it mythology anymore cause one of the main gods is in front of me.” She grunted.

The male only nodded along with what she was saying.

“Ah, well it’s good to see we’ve still somewhat influenced you guys..” He said.

Silence covered the two of them before he laughed slightly.

“Your not very talktative, are you?” He snickered.

The orange eyed girl only tensed slightly and raised an eyebrow.

“What has this got to do with hepheastus?” She questioned

The god infront of her only snickered before studying her a little more. She had formal fitting clothes, not expensive though. She had said she relized a lot of people wanted the job in her email, and wasn’t overly eager to get it.

She was also very curious, seeming to gravitate towards the listening type.

“Enough about them, you’ll do fine.” He brushed the clipboard back towards her.

She made a horrifed face. He wasn’t going to give her any more information?! But there were like four other gods!!

“Tell me about you..you didn’t say much in your application:” He spoke.

She didn’t mind how eager he was to get to know her.

“Well..I’m 22 and uhm..My full name is Every Ishto..I’m italian and Koeran..and..I grew up in New order.” She explained a little.

He hummed and squinted his eyes. He could defentily hear the tones of Koeran in her voice.

“You have a very..Koeran accent..?” He said.

The girl only flashed a nervous smile and looked down at her lap for a second.

“I actually learned most of my english while learning Italian aswell.” She answered.

Her eye seemed to twitch but Hades was none the wiser. He only raised an eyebrow and nudged his face in question.

“Oh? Well that’s good, Apollo and Atremis are koeran and talk in that language aswell.” He simply said.

She blinksd slowly a few times, now that was also surprisng. She wasn’t expecting apollo or ATREMIS of all people to only speak english.

He sighed and leaned back into his chair, fixing the cuff of his sleeve. She merly watched him.

“I can see your soul..all gods can, obviously. Your soul is really pretty.” He vaguely said, gazing at her upper chest.

She could’ve sworn her heart was speed up and imiedtaited a orange glow. There was a medium speick of black though.

“Of course, it has some corruption. Every person has corruption.” He said.

The female only flustered slightly and looked away. She knew it wasn’t met to be perverted, but still. A male shamelessy looking at her soul, wasn’t that ment to be intamieaite.

“Ah sorry! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He apologized.

She only tensed at this and grimnaced.

“No it’s alright, I get it.”

A akward silence covered the two of them before he cleared his throat.

“Your hired, just so you know.” He said.

Every bounced her leg up and down in comfort to hype herself up. She couldn’t just get up and run around while squeeling which is what she wanted to do. A somewhat giddy smile covered her face.

“Thank you so much, sir-!” She started but was cut off.

“Please, just Hades is okay.” He smiled, standing up.

She nodded before clearing her throat and standing up aswell.

“Thank you, Hades. I’m assuming that I’ll get a start date?” She tilted her head while grabbing her clipboard and holding it close to her chest.

The man only chuckled slightly before sticking his hands in his pockets.

“Yes, I will send one of my escorts in a week to take you to the person your interviewings abode…” He answered before moving away from the table.

She smiled and also moved away from it. But she tensed when he reached to grab her hand and shake it. He was extremely warm, strange.

“만나서 반가웠어요, 예쁜 아가씨.” He said before letting go and walking away.

Every was stunned for a good minute or two.

“What the actual fuck.”

The girl, needless to say was nervous. It was her first day on the job and she was meeting Aethena-sorry Aethen.

“Miss Ishto??” A unfamilar voice knocked on her door.

She peaked through the crack and saw a majestic looking being. They didn’t have a mouth and their skin was entirely white. They also had their eyes closed.

“Yes..? Are you here to be my escort..?” She slowly asked.

The person seemed to smile, even though they didn’t have a mouth. Their eyes raised and squinted.

“Yep, please come..” They softly said.

She opened her door and blinked. A fancy looking brown car was parked on the side of the road.

She gawked when the white colored person simply closed their eyes like they were happy and walked across the busy street.

“Mortals-Besides you cannot see me..” They clarrifed.

She simply nodded stiffly before adjusting the bag she had on her hip. She quickly looked from side to side before having an opening to cross the street. She held a hand up as thanks towards the car who had stopped to let her stop.

Only for the car behind that car to agressivly honk..

She skipped onto the sidewalk and walked over to the side of the car.

“Assholes..” She muttered under her breath.

The escort only smiled again with their eyes and both of them entered the car. She glanced around, nothing seemed special.

“How are we going to get to Aethen??” She questioned.

The person only hummed before pressing a button. All of the sudden, a flash of white flashed before her eyes, blinding her.

“Ack-!” She felt insane turbalance as her body was guled to the back of her seat.

Silence greeted her until..she opened her eyes..

“Miss Ishto?? We have arrived.” The escort said.

She made a sound of confusion before looking around. She was still inside the car, but now she was on a different street.

There was a extremely large looking white palace infront of her. There were gold accents and horse statues right infront of the doors. And a tone of steps leading up to the door.

The girl flinched slightly when ladies in white, silk and dress attire laughed and walked together.

“There’s no need to worry..they don’t bite.” The white colored person waved their hand and the door unlocked and unbuckled Every on its own.

She yelped when her body was gently levitated and placed on the first step of the many leading to the palace. She made a face and glanced behind her, hands clutching onto her thick bag strap, only to see no car or person behind her.

She flinched when some girls and people passing by a gave her an odd glance. Well, she wasn’t wearing simaliar clothes. Or atleast, simaliar clothes to them.

She was wearing a simple form fitting red blouse shirt that had lace around the drop that showed her collar bones. Two buttons were also below that in the middle. The sleeves started right below her shoulders and flared out polietly.

She was also wearing a red, long skirt. Not extremely long, mid-calf. Finally, she had a peral necklace on and black and brown flats.

She made a grimnace before slowly walking up the stairs. It was kind of daunting-to be seeing a god. Of course, Hades was extremely nice to her.

A girl in a group, out of the corner of her eye she could see point at her. Eve only looked down and went quicker.

There was a line of people outside the doors, pretty long. The girl who had pointed at her was now ahead of her.

“Hey, you.” The girl, who had now turned around gave her a quick once over.

“Hello, may I help you?” She tried to poletiely said.

The taller girl scowled and glowered at her further. She was geniuley confused, what? Did she not like humans or anything?

“Why are you, as a mortal, here? I mean, out of all the places and you pick Aethen??” She tried to stress.

Every only glanced at the emptyiness on stage. It was bassicly like a menu.

“I work for hades.” She blurted.

The female seemed to blink a few times before gawking. She completly stopped, making the other halt aswell.

“YOU-A MORTAL WORKS FOR HADES?!” She leaned closer.

Unfourtnately, her outburst caused multiple to look over. They all gasped and a few other females crowded around.

“Hades?! Isn’t he scary?!” One asked.

Every only leaned away and sweat-dropped.

“Uh-? No not uhm..really?” She said.

She flinched when someone ran their hands through her hair. It was a taller girl with brunette and golden eyes.

“Your hair is so pretty! How did you get it this color, mortal?” She adimired.

“Oooo! And look at her eyes!!-~” Another leaned surprisingly close to her face and stared at her orange hues.

She had enough and quickly tore herself away and fit through the crowd. Smiling nervously, she made a waving gesture and said something before running away.

“Thanks! And uhm..my Name’s Every Ishto..!” She said before scampering away.

She sighed as she finally looked at the large door infront of her. She grunted and pushed it open with a good amount of effort in it.

She blinked a few times as she took a few steps inside. There was a garden, past the door, odd layout. She noticed there was a heart shaped bush and multiple more white statues throughout the garden.

She grunted again when someone bumped into her.

“Excuse me.” It was a male.

He had fancy clothes on, and a otherwordly apperance. Sure, everyone here looked angeliec but this guy..

He noticed she was staring at him and he gave her a quick tilt of the head and up and down. He blinked a few times when he relized something..

“Hold on a second- Your a mortal.” He blurted.

Was this suposed to be Aethena-Aethen?? He could’ve fit the bill.

“Are you..?”

He only spared her a somewhat amused look. He came a little closer and she moved further back, to move away from him and the door.

“The greek god, Aethen? Yes, that’s me.” He smiled.

She squinted, wasn’t this a little odd?? She ment, Aethena was suposed to be a woman and almost a femanist. She was the god of justice.

He only squinted back at her and she noticed something..

‘Are those fucking dimples..?’ She gaped, how cute!

“So, how can I help you? It’s very rare a mortal chooses to meet with me, they usually pick eros or aphordite..” He curiously questioned.

Every glanced down towards her bag before tensing. Right! The interview!

“Right, uhm- I’m here for an interview..uhm-with you..I’m with Hades- as in..I work..for him..” She tried her best to explain.

Aethen blinked a few times before gawking slightly.

“Hades?! You work for that old man?” He questioned.

She only laughed nervously and glanced around, not many people were here. Most of them cut straight through the garden and towards the door that was on the opposite side.

“Ahaha..yeah..hey..uhm do you have somewhere we could sit down for the interview.?” She nervously asked.

The male only grinned again and nodded.

“Of course, come!” He said.

He lead her to the middle of the garden where there was a small gazebo. Both of them entered it and flowers surrounded the area. There was a small table and multiple chairs around it.

He quickly took a seat down and she followed, taking one across from him.

She took a good look at him before getting her question notes. He had dark brunette hair, straight. Sort of styled simaliar to Hades.

But his eyes were a dark blue, understanding. But if annoyed, they could quickly turn to ice.

“So..uhm I must ask..how old are you in god years?” She inquired.

He only smiled and raised an eyebrow.

“Ah, well..I would say around maybe..uhhhhh..20 centuries??” He didn’t seem completly sure.

She shot him a look but didn’t say anything else.

“Right, so..not many mortals vist you?” She went slightly off the script.

The male only sighed and leaned back on the bench. His arms wrapped around the back of it and she tried not to gawk.

‘Holy shit.’ Her mind freaked out.

“Yes, not many mortals vist. And if they do, it’s usually on accident. They’re always looking for some other god..not you, though!” He mummbled before beaming at her.

She couldn’t help but feel a little weak at that saying. She really wasn’t that special, did he already forget this was suposed to be bussiness related??

“Right..and uhm..do you know anything about the modern world?” She scribbled something down before asking.

Aethen only grunted and looked away for a second. God he was ho-!

‘STOP IT.’ She breathed in and out.

“A little bit, I prefer to be social with people, you know? Plus we can’t really get our hands on that stuff.”. He said.

“But I can get my hands on you, can’t I?” He said.

She gawked at him, eyes wide. Excuse you?! She blinked a few times in surprise, making him snicker.

“Sorry, sorry. I just wanted to see how you would react.” He apologized.

She only scowled slightly before leaning back in her chair. She lifted her clipboard with the notes again close to her face and squinted.

When she grunted and lowered it, he was closer then she would of liked. But not wanting to give him a reaction, she only cringed for a second.

“Right. Who would you say your closetest to among the gods?” She inquired, shifting slightly.

Aethen only raised an eyebrow at her indifference but looked away. It looked like he was pondering the question actually.

“Uhhhh..maybe Eros? He’s a little shit though.” He huffed.

The red-nette tried not to gawk again. Cursing?! She wasn’t heavily religous but she certianely didn’t expect that.

But it did make sense, if he did favor Eros. It would make sense because he was so flirty towards her.

“Honestly, Hades barely tells us anything anymore! Or I’m out of the loop, one or the other!” The brunette whined.

She glanced down at her notes again, some of them were filled out. She had a place for extras and she decided to write down something.

‘Way too flirty and actually childish.’ Was what it said.

Every looked up again when he started speaking again;

“Either way, it’s odd he hired a mortal. Speaking of, I never did get your name.” He looked away before finally snapping his eyes back to her.

The female only nodded before answering.

“It’s Every, just call me Eve though.” She said.

The man only smiled, his dimples everso present. He also seemed amused.

“Like, garden of Eve? You look the part to be a godess.” He smoothly said.

Her orange eye twitched twice. Honestly, why did everyone compare her name to that?! Was it really that intresting?

“Funny, your older said that too.” She hissed with a sharp smile on her face.

The blue eyed male only made a fast smirk expression, one she almost didn’t catch. What a little shit.

“Anyways, I’ve heard that Greek gods don’t have much luck in the love area of things..care to forward me?” She settled for a more bold question.

He seemed slightly surprised at this, making her grin for a second.

“Are you asking or telling?” His expression went netural.

It was sort of scary, seeing him drop his smile and beaming personality. His eyes were dark now, no light in them. This is what a greek god looked like when you ticked them off.

“Asking..?” She trailed off, seeming hestiant.

“Yes, it’s true that we don’t have alot of luck with love. Hell, just ask Apollo. His lovers turned into fucking plants or something.” He snickered slightly.

She furrowed her eyebrows slightly at this. Was he seriously laughing at someones misery??

“Don’t you feel bad for him..?” She leaned forward a little.

He glanced into her eyes before looking away and scoffing. He treated the question like it was a stupid one.

“Of course I don’t. It’s his fault for falling in love with a mortal anyways.” He huffed.

Her expression shifted into something bitter for a second. He didn’t seem to notice though.

She wasn’t a romantic, but she didn’t blame people for falling in love. Wait a second-

“Didn’t your buddy Eros fall in love with a mortal too??” She raised an eyebrow.

Aethen only scowled slightly and scoffed again.

“Your asking these questions like your intrested in me or something.” He placed a sarcastic smile on his face.

Every only hummed and made a ‘woah’ expression.

“Nope! I’m gonna’ ask everyone these questions.” She smiled with her eyes closed.

The god only ran a hand through his hair while her eyes were closed. Well, here goes nothing.

The girl flinched and yelped when a hand grabbed her rather roughly. She tumbled onto his lap and immeditally stiffened, almost as hard as a rock. His hands moved to her hips and she scowled.

“What are you doing?!” She veomonsly asked.

He only had a shit-eating grin on his face with his fingers practically digging into her hips.

“Don’t you wanna’ see a god up close and personal?” He tilted his head slightly.

Her hands were on his shoulders, and digging into them aswell. Sparks went off in between them; irratated ones.

“No.” She bluntly answered.

He would’ve adimitted, it was a good front. She didn’t look flustered at all, almost bored.

But you couldn’t fool the god of justice and wisdom, nice try Ishto. She was practically crystal clear to him. Every mortal was.

“Are you stupid or something?” He blurted out.

The red haired girl blinked a few times before her eyes returned to their hodded nature.

“Huh.” It wasn’t really a sound of confusion, more of a breathy scoff.

“I mean, lying to a god of justice? Do you relize that your in for it now?” He mockingly said, grin coming back.

She looked actually confused this time before making a face when he grabbed her face with one hand. His right kept her stable on him.

“But don’t worry, pretty girl. I’ll help you..” He cooed.

She tensed stiffly when his one hand teasingly crawled up higher to her ribcage.

“Unless you don’t want me?” He tilted his head.

The red-nette couldn’t help it, her stomach was turning. But not with dread, but with anxiety.

The orange eyed girl only scowled before leaning closer to him. In a swift motion, she connected their lips.

“Mm!..” He seemed somewhat surprised and she only dug her hands further into his clothes.

The male quickly softened and tugged her closer, making them press aganist each other. His hands carefully slid up to her collar bones and rubbed the skin.

His hands were cold, and practically froze her own burning skin. It was like she had just downed a shot of vodka, that’s how knocked up she was.

“Closer..” He accritvely mummbled aganist her lips and did exactly that.

There was no way she could come any closer. They breathed the same air.

His hand that had placed itself on her hip moved to her jaw. It basically held it in place so she couldn’t move away.

“Ack!-!” She flinched when he bit harshly down on her lip.

The girl hissed when he slid his tongue into her mouth. He was gentle at first, but now he was back to being harsh.

Both of them grunted when they switched positions.

Aethen was ontop of her when they were still on the bench. He somehow fitted onto the medium sized surface.

She was practically fitted together, her shoulders being forced together. Not actually together mind you, just so close to her frame that it shrunk.

Of course, the position wasn’t overly comfortable but she was too focused. She was only focused on everything and any movememt he did.

He leaned into her and his hands trailed away again, one of them moving extremely low and one at a medium area on her stomach.

He pulled away for a second to let her breath. Oddly enough, the sky was darker now. Considering she could see shades of almost black looking at her.

“Odd, right? I don’t control it..” He laughed softly as his lower had crept closer and brushed aganist her thighs.

Every loved the stars, and was somewhat happy her first was happening under them.

“Aw, I don’t want the stars to steal your attention away form me..” He complained softly.

Every grunted when his hand brushed aganist her clothed clit. His fingers were long and bony and pressed harder. Out of the corner of her vision, she could see him grin slightly.

“Am I your first, Eve?” He teasingly whispered.

She only grunted but hissed when he moved his left hand to pinch her hip. She grunted as he moved her underwear aside and kissed her roughly.

In all honesty, she should’ve probably expected something like this. Wait-should she have?! Where did that thought even come from?!

“Ngh!..” She was muffled when his hand gently touched her own bare private.

It was embrassing, how senstive she was. She only touched by someone before-herself. And she had never gone too far.

Aethen broke her train of thought by pressing impossibly closer. He had already smoothly entricted his fingers and hadn’t moved them yet.

Like said before, his fingers were impossibly large. Yet they weren’t hard to fit around, because they were light.

“Your so cute..” He whispered.

Every whined slightly at that, was he teasing? You see, whenever Every blushed or turned the slighest bit hot, her face would burn.

Just like now, her face was burning. It burned with heat and almost stung. And Aethen’s face barely even looked red.

“I’m not even touching you that much, baby..~” He snickered, very lightly.

It was strange, she thought the greek gods would talk alot more proper. Or maybe it was just this guy..

“Ack!-!” She moaned when he started moving his fingers at a medium pace inside and out of her.

Looking despreate to try and cover up the noise, she grabbed him closer and kissed him again. Of course, she was much more softer then him.

It was stupid, in his mind. Sleeping around with mortals, Eros did it all the time. He cracked an eye open to get a good look at her face.

She was shaking, poor thing..it was like she had never even been touched, sexually or not.

He went faster with his fingers, as his other hand trailed up to her jaw again. It really didn’t make sense as to why exactly he would do this..he was suposed to be the god of justice!

But there was a certian allure about her..something otherworldly.

No way she was mortal, he almost scoffed. His hand on her jaw tightened, making her almost flinch back and whine.

No mortal would be acting like this..no mortal would work for hades.

His fingers pumped in and out of her, almost at a thinking pace. Sometimes, they would go agonzingly slow, or harsher when something seemed to annoy him. It was like he wasn’t fully there, with the way his eyes clouded over.

The female was actually that loud, only soft grunts and babbling was heard. The occasnily call of his name made him snap out of it and harshly kiss her, how mean.

Could Aethena be so sadistic, so cruel? Sure. Did she ever expect it?? Hell fucking no! She also didn’t expect the cord in her stomach to already tighten and sit there uncomfortablly.

No one else could hear them, propely something he did. After all, he probably made it night aswell.

“Will you do with this all the other gods, hm?” He skeptically questioned, moving slightly to her neck.

She only muffled a moan in response, her one hand covering her mouth. The male only tsked in response and moved one of his hands so that it held her wrist, while his fingers fit into her mouth.

She made a yelping sound around them and almost bit them but didn’t. His blue eyes narrowed.

“Don’t bite.” He simply hissed out.

The girl only peeked an eye open and nodded. The chrod in her stomach was building and she could feel him slow down slightly.

“Ngh! Please..please..” She begged around his fingers.

This seemed to peak his intrest as he made an amused expression.

“Please? Please what?” He mockingly said.

“Release..please..” She begged.

Ah, she was so cute. He really ment it. Her face was all red and he wanted so badly to be rougher with her. But was midly concerned if he was too rough she would litterally die?!

“Fine, pretty..” He softly agreed before speeding up his fingers again and working softly on her neck.

He was being slightly gentler now, atleast compared to his fingers. The nickname was also nice.

“Ngh!” She moaned when the chord in her stomach came back.

In all honesty, Aethen could probably dick-her down right now, but her body seemed exhausted from all the edging. It earned this atleast.

“Come on, baby.” He hissed.

She got louder as he bit down on a part of her neck. Her skin was sweet, odd for a mortal. Not that he was complaning though.

“Hngh!..” She panted when her body seized up and she finally released.

Oddly enough, it didn’t come out as rushed as she thought it would. Every had every climaxed before in her life. It just came in stronger to mild waves.

Aethen smiled and pulled away from her neck, also carefully removing his fingers. Her body peived in exhaustion.

“I think this interview is over, don’t you?” He added on, jokingly.

The red-nette only frowned and tiredly peeked an eye open.

“Fuck you..” She breathed before closing them again.

The next week was easy going, each week the mortal girl spent time with each of the gods. Of course, he still teased her but didn’t fuck her again..he seemed satisfied enough. He also didn’t seem intrested in keeping connections towards her.

Maybe he did that with all mortals, and the thought distruped her a little.

“Did you have a good interview week with him, Miss Ishto?” A random cocubine asked the girl as she was packing her things.

She had dark skin and black hair. She also had pitch black eyes but a small smile on her face.

“Yep. Thanks for the help.” She blandly replied.

What was she suposed to say?! Thanks for not pestering me about my bussiness like all your friends did?!

Which is exactly what they did, actually. People flocked around her everytime she exited the area with Aethen and pestered her. Apprently not many peopld got one on one time with him.

“Most would think your lucky, you know. Not alot of people get to meet Aethen face to face.” She reminded.

The girl placed a sharp, thin lipped smile on her face. How many people were gonna’ say that?!

“Oh yeah? Thanks.” She blandly replied.

The concubine only laughed slightly and shook her head. She must have relized she took it the wrong way.

“No, I ment it in a postive way!” She quickly said.

Every only lifted the filled up bag and adjusted her clothes.

“Oh, alright then..” She replied.

Honestly, it was kind of akward. Everyone who had tried to talk to her was so formal, and offputting.

“Well, I hope the rest of your interviews go well!” She said, before leaving the other.

—-

lol i scraped this

[mysticstarlightduck]

A very happy WBW to you! What is your favorite aspect of each region's design in your story? What part of it can you not wait to share with others because you're proud you came up with it?

Happy Worldbuilding Wednesday back to you too!!!

These questions are very interesting and complicated. I will try to answer to the best of my abilities, and talk a bit about each of the main regions of my WIP! Man am I excited about this, let's go:

What is your favorite aspect of each region's design in your story?

ADRELLIOS - The Golden City:

Imagining a pristine city, gold plated in every sense of the word, where wondrous advancements in the name of comfort have been made. The mystery of the richest city the world has ever known, glistens in the sun amidst its colorful webs of luxury, secrecy, lies, and enchantment. A paradise one could get lost in forever.

The Masquerades. Nights shock full of mystery, luxury, and excitement, in intricate marble ballrooms with only the rarest jewels as decorations, and everyone - including yourself - is wearing different and unique masks, tailored to the best possible quality for this very occasion. Each year the Masquerades host a different theme, and there is always a surprise at the end if you're willing or able to keep your secrets.

The silk markets and the Golden Desert. A city surrounded by the mysterious sands of an age-old desert, which glows like gold when the sunlight hits it just the right way at just the right hour of the day. A trade route of expert merchants that dare cross the unyielding desert to reach the city of dreams.

Egyptian and Mediterranean influences. Mighty buildings of white stone with colorful inscriptions and sprawling cities below.

MIDTAREN - The Forest Haven:

It is a forest kingdom, built to be accommodated amidst the ancient trees - which are hundreds of feet tall by now. Imagine the beauty of a distant kingdom, with unique houses and palaces nestled between centuries-old oak trees that hide it from the sight of the outside world. Giant statues carved out of mountain stone blend into the surroundings, and you feel like you've just been transported through time.

Due to its location at the very heart of the Midtaren Forest, its capital, hidden from the world, is almost untouched by time and war. They are also said to be the home of the best non-elven archers on the continent.

Midtaren is known for its intricate enchanted craftsmanship and is the safe haven to quite possibly the largest free elven population safely outside of the Hidden Elven Cities, with just as many mages there as well. It has been the ancient homeland of House Ashiren since the Ancient War, though Raelen and Julyan have not been there for years now.

VELLAMERE - The Sea Jewel:

The beauties of a seafaring town, the point of connection between multiple cultures, with sprawling markets filled to the brim with all the merchandise you could ever dream of, and landing ports just as filled with beautiful galleys, boats, and many kinds of ships with colorful sails of all Agrannorian nations and more.

The Middle Eastern, Phoenician, and Greek influences in this city's culture and aesthetic. Just, the beautiful scarfs and rare colorful jewelry on flowy silk clothes made for strolls on the beach or manning the sails of a merchant galley. The symbolic value of some things, the mighty buildings, and ships, the importance of family ties... The music too!!!

The beautiful sandy-colored castles nestled at the tops of rocky shores, with mighty pilasters of stone opening to wondrous balconies that give a perfect view of the sea and sunsets below.

THE SEA CREATURES!!! Terrifying sea monsters screeching from the darkness below your ship on a night travel to the isolated Storm Archipelago. The beautiful grouper-like giant fishes seamlessly swim between the bridges where the rivers go to meet the sea. The multicolored sea corals where merfolk and sirens are said to hide during high tide, on the rare occasions that they stray from their safe havens on distant rocky bays and the abyss below.

KESTRALL - The Dragon's Nest:

A stone-carved kingdom set on the heights of the most distant mountain tops, snow-covered and surrounded by ancient, petrified forests, where the strange mist of corrupted magic of the Shroud swirls throughout. Mighty fortresses carved directly into the mountain stone, looking over the valleys below, giant dragon-fire forges lighting the night in an ember orange glow, awaiting the Dragon Riders that fly through the night and the day.

Viking, Nordic, and Ancient European influences.

A city of warriors and dragon riders that are willing to brave the coldest weather on the continent, where the best runic weapons and metal jewelry are forged by Forgebearer mages with the help of Dragonfire. Fur cloaks rustling in the harsh wind, and buildings swirling around the mountainside.

DRAGONS!!! MANY DRAGONS!!!! A culture based on might, forged by the cold wind and the fire of their dragons.

A female High General who is undyingly loyal to the Queen she swore liege to over twenty winters ago, while also keeping her promise to her dead best friend in protecting his children.

ERGYRE - The Iron Thorn:

A proud iron-forged kingdom, neutral in the borders between the Morosyn Empire and the Free Realms. Its double-sided nature contrasts with the high morality of other neighboring kingdoms. After all, to them, what matters is that the businesses are flourishing, and the ends justify the means. That kind of Machiavellian mentality is very compelling to write about, even though it is cruel.

The SECRECY. The strangeness of a sprawling black market in the hearts of the many cities of one of the most important kingdoms of the continent. A city of perpetual smoke and colorfully artificial lights blaring all around, cramped shady marketplaces where anything can be found for the right price or right twist of a word.

The dangerous nature of this kingdom, which makes itself known to anyone who dares to walk unaccompanied through the heart of its cities, where the utopianly vivid nightlife is only rivaled by its dubious secrets, moral bankruptcy, and more.

The Carnival of Thorns and all the celebrations within it. A time of peace where the ruthless nature of the kingdom can cease in the name of fun, and royalty and common folk can enjoy a common ground with roots in their past.

THE STORM ISLES - The Lost Archipelago:

The aesthetic of a rocky archipelago that is hidden by sea fog and distant tides, where the most deadly sea monsters lurk in the night.

The unique culture of the city, with a colorful twist to all that they do, and an exquisite traditional cuisine based on a sea monster diet - which was brought back with a force after continent-based food sources were discovered to be contaminated by the Blood Curse plague in poorly sanitized galleys.

Giant sea shells being used as the basis for carved knickknacks and weaponry. A traveling culture based on the trade of knowledge and resources. The colorfully bright lights of the undersea caves.

MERFOLK AS A PART OF SOCIETY!!!! The cities having adaptions so that merfolk can walk amongst them safely, especially after the latter's vital aid on helping heal the humans from the Blood Curse plague epidemic, as merfolk are immune to it. They have been fully embraced as friends and Storm Islanders.

Colorful wood and stone houses connected by stray lines above head, from where beautiful lanterns hang and swing on the wind like chimes. A love for popular plays and musical shows. The best taverns in the world, owned by former pirates.

THE BEST, FASTEST, AND MOST DEADLY NAVY OF THE AGGRANORIAN WORLD. They specialize in ship-making, and nearly half of the royal Vellamerian navy was made by them, but their knowledge of the tides and seas make them the deadliest and most expert seafarers.

THE MOROSYN EMPIRE - The Reign of the Mighty:

An Empire built on an iron fist and a clear hierarchy, founded by an ancient warrior and scholar who sought to unify her lands in the face of a dire threat. Now, however, under the rule of the egotistical new Dynasty, things have started to change for the worse as honor gave way to oppression.

Mighty palaces carved out of grey stone and metal, marble halls and built on sharp, exquisite lines. The royal colors have unfortunately been shifted to accommodate the new Imperial symbol, under the decree of Emperor Aerich's grandfather before the Agrannorian Civil Wars even began.

A thirst for knowledge, ambition, and power fueling the strongest force that ever ruled over the northern side of the Continent, but it led to their corruption as well.

Writing a place so merciless, where efficiency and protocol replace a lot in their worldview, with an Emperor who rules as unexpectedly as a scorpion's strike is very challenging to write (but in a way that lets me test my skills), and their cruelty is something that is strange to write about - to show that they have corrupted themselves and strayed from the path of their former rulers in the name of controlling the world.

The SHEER TERROR it generates on the world around it, the power its name carries, and the horrible acts they do in the name of their reign, are something horrifying. It contrasts the heroic warmth and the welcoming feel of the Free Realms with cold deadliness, and ruthless pragmatism with its deadly and highly trained armies.

How they fail to realize that ruling by fear will force them to rule over the ashes of anyone in their path, and that the cheers that their people give them are ones of fear, not adoration. It is so obliviously smug and I hate that Emperor so much, but it is so interesting to write about tho.

LIRANTHIS - The Scholar's Archive:

The majestic and proud Archive is set in the kingdom's capital and within the incredibly important Liranthian Academies - which accept people FROM ALL WALKS OF LIFE, as long as their talents are worth investing in. The delicate buildings are made out of pure iridescent light stone.

A kingdom where knowledge and its collection are more important than wars, where delicate beauty is cultivated and inventions are encouraged.

The Alchemists and Inventors of Liranthis, my guys... They're something else. They have invented ways to create machinery that embodies the necessities of their city. The city filled with the gentle whirring sounds of giant iron gears below.

Tourneys and Competitions that are meant to showcase the intelligence and bright wit of their people, as well as the strength of their resolve.

LIBRARIES, TALENTED SEAMTRESSES, WINERIES OF ALL TASTES, GENTLE TAVERNS THAT SELL DIFFERENT KINDS OF WINE AND TEA INSTEAD OF ALE!!!!

Thank you so much for the Ask, @lassiesandiego!!!! I loved every second of it. 💕

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Actually yeah you’re real for that getting into messy drama fr just isn’t worth the effort especially with crazy people who will spin it out of proportions….struggle is real ugh but yeah slow ghosting is the move LMAO

SHSHSHS not me forgetting too even though your pfp is right in my face im sorry shinah….but no I was actually tweaking like wdym we got PANDA mf PANDAS BACKSTORY and not Inumaki??? Don’t get me wrong I love panda but you’re telling me a cursed doll has more lore moments than Inumaki goodbye (at least he’s alive)

SHSHSHSHS the way she’s been dubbed fanon Shidou now is so funny but you saying that just to annoy her at first is so funny but AGREE he definitely looks a lot more deranged in the anime too (which works because I mean he is) there’s definitely some earlier panels where he looks ok (I think some moments when he’s first with junpei too!)

NO FR it’s not the same because indigo league he was immature but funny as hell like him misty and Brock just roasting the hell out of each other and doing random shit but alola is like….catered to elementary students reboot happy friendship wahoo idk it’s not as entertaining but lowk a rewatch may be in order…..

WJDHSKSJ you pulled out that “1 question part abcdefghijklmnop” format but that’s so real because people on wp can fr find anything to shit on but about point c I think it’s really funny because they WOULD complain about that but I bet readers complaining to like “MF KARASU THAT GIBLE WAS MINEEEEE” LMAOAOA anyways

AHAAHAHAHAH THAGS ACTUALLY SO FUNNY that mutual really spreading the word im crying honestly your long fics could actually be stand alone media soooo

WAITTTTT save that thought for that one vague Karasu req you have…I’m crying otoya giving him a fan meet ticket thinking it was a scam too that’s so otoya coded but KARASU fanboying so hard that reader doesn’t even realize he’s a hotshot too and she looks up match clips and sees a completely diff persona on field LMAOOO if you don’t find anything else I vote this idea for that req

SHSHS NEXT TIME TRUST it’s ok the pink Nagi is very easy on the eyes LOL

- Karasu anon

i’m so drama averse i also hate hurting people’s feelings (though i’m the first to make a sassy comment it’s either lighthearted/in good fun or to someone who genuinely deserves it) so my default is just running away HAHAHA luckily we ended up going to different universities so it was pretty easy to transition out of friendship

shinah is like a back burner man…he’ll always be there for me when i need him but he’s not forefront in my mind yk?? and yeah gege gave a surprising amount of depth to panda given what he is SDFHSLKD meanwhile inumaki was left with nothing 😭 i wish he had given inumaki an alternative way of talking that wasn’t ingredients like sign language or smth!! although i can see how drawing sign language might be difficult but like what’s stopping him from carrying around a whiteboard and a marker?? that would maintain the silliness while also allowing for more serious moments (kind of like his reaction to tullia’s death in pi — not a single “salmon” was dropped because it would completely ruin the vibe of the scene, but he still couldn’t talk so i made him write on a piece of paper which i ended up really liking as it still posed challenges for him in communication [such as y/n refusing to read what he wrote at first] without taking away his agency completely)

LMAOOO fanon shidou is just so perfect as a description for her it’s hilarious SDLHJFSLDJK but yeah i was specifically talking about season one of the anime (i only picked up the manga in between s1 and s2) in the fight against itadori and nanami right after junpei dies he has some very pretty scenes i can’t even lie HAHA but he also has a LOT of deranged/hideous ones so for the most part megumi and yuta stayed as my boys

yeahhh that’s what i was thinking like indigo league is just all of them being deranged (not just the main trio but gary, prof oak, team rocket…all of them were insane) even his pokémon had sm more personality (the de-sassification of pikachu is tragic) whereas alola just gives me sanitized vibes plus the colors are too bright and i think the art style is too round?? the earlier seasons had a completely diff art style that was just typical of the time instead of being purposefully childish yk…XY REWATCH AFTER BLLK S2 DARE I SAY???

HELP questions like that always have me crash out because like that’s not accurate branding??? fr though people on wattpad will find something to complain about TRUST and omg no that’s so real reader’s still pissed about karasu taking gible (although to be fair i feel like his rebuttal would be that she already has hydreigon [pseudo-legendary dragon] and nidoking [ground type] so she doesn’t really NEED a garchomp which is true so she doesn’t have a huge problem with it…OTOYA on the other hand never gets over it)

imagine a movie on hollyhock or like a really high budget tv series i think it would be so good…and pursuit ofc HAHAHA even peregrine could work as a movie not to mention pomegranate ink (deserved to be jjk canon) further self glaze here but yeah i always wish they could be animated or filmed or something i think it would be so cool to see that

OTOYA BUYING THE TICKET it’s so him too he’s like maliciously giggling to himself because he’s about to play an epic #prank on karasu and then it turns out that he accidentally bought a real ticket?? PLS karasu is so shy and such a fan that reader’s like “no way this dude can be famous” and then she looks him up and the first result is just a “tabito karasu cussing out his teammates for 10 minutes straight” youtube compilation of him swearing at shidou and zantetsu (the second result is a “tabito karasu rizzing up his opponents for 7 minutes straight” youtube compilation of him calling chigiri “princess” and talking about hiori’s left leg)

I DO LOVE THE PINK NAGI i think it’s so aesthetic hehe especially the header (i also love the pinned post but he looks so pretty in my header hehe) the pink also goes really well w the yona pfp so all in all i’m happy with it atm…i am a frequent theme changer though as you know so who’s to say what’ll be next?? sae theme

[al1x00]

⚠️CHAP. 7 SPOILERS⚠️

"CW POISONED WITHOUTH YOUR KNOWLEDGE"??? KATY WHO TF HURT YOU?😭😭😭

OH SO THAT'S WHAT HAPPENED TO R'S PARENTS! They went for an expedition and never returned after that, and after that R was left with her uncle and aunt in that horror of a house😭😭 that must've been tough.

"for they only wanted to eat yet they ended up getting eaten themselves." KATY IS THIS FORESHADOWING?🤨🤨 Also ngl this sentence right here almost made me sob.

The fact that R keeps remembering that Hobie will wake up hits me like a goddamn truck, it's like the only thing that keeps R from going insane and just continue to be by his side without losing hope because if the roles were reversed, he would do the same. R continues to talk to him and saying things that have always been in the back of her mind like he could hear all of it. (SORRY I LOVE YAPPING 😔😔)

THE DREAM/NIGHTMARE SCENE WAS SO COOL LIKE HELLO?? KATY YOU'RE FEEDING US GOOD WITH THIS CHAPTER I'M LOVING IT

OKAY WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING? WHY ARE THEY TRYING TO SEDATE R?

Thomas and the others are starting to get a bit suspicious tbh, they're acting a bit too calmly for my liking. I feel like they're trying to do something to R and Hobie, maybe bring them to the lawmen for the bounties on their heads?🤨🤨

I KNEW IT I FUCKING CALLED IT THEY WERE ALL BASTARDS R AND HOBIE NEED TO GET OUT OF THAT PLACE AND BURN IT TO THE GROUND GOD ADSJKDSADSDHBS

Hobie woke up, saw that R was't anywhere near him and immediately went in "I gotta save my wife" mode LMAOO

WAIT WHO TF IS CULVER? I'M TRYING TO REMEMBER BUT MY MIND IS JUST BLANK I DON'T REMEMBER THAT MAN AT ALL😭😭😭

THEY DID BURN THE MARSH TO THE GROUND HELPP WHY IS MY BRAIN SPOILERING THE CHAPTER BEFORE I EVEN READ THE PARAGRAHPS😭😭

Forget matching clothes or anything else R and Hobie have matching mentall illnesses and scars🥰 couple goals fr /j

Okay so Hicks wasn't R's uncle until after six months that he did that horrible shit to Hobie just because he had "competition" and was basically just jealous and R's aunt was like "Let's marry this man and make this house hell on earth for my niece so I can get more money, fuck them kids🥰🥰" LIKE WTF??

"you'd break yourself, break every muscle and bone in your body, tore it limb from limb so you'd be broken together. That you'll fit right in where his jagged edges lie just like before." KATY DAKSDAKDNKA I'M SOBBING😭😭 THEY LOVE EACHOTHER SO MUCH I'M SO GLAD THEY'RE TALKING AND EVERYTHING'S ALRIGHT FOR NOW

Also the fact that they love eachother so much that they aren't afraid to show their vulnerabilities to the other, that R would tear apart every single muscle and bone just to understand how Hobie feels and learn to love him even more than before has me crying and sobbing into my pillow. R doesn't see his imperfections and actually thinks he's still the boy who used to wait her under the oak tree, maybe he's just tougher and a little more scared now for all the things he went throught.

"You are love incarnate" UIFSJAKASK KATY YOU GOTTA PAY FOR MY THERAPIST ONCE OPIN IS OVER BECAUSE THIS SHIT IS MAKING ME CRY GAHH MAKE THEM BE HAPPY FOR ONCE IN THEIR LIVES

Also the kiss at the end?? MADE ME GIGGLE AND KICK MY FEET BUT CRY AT THE SAME TIME LIKE HELLO?😭😭 Also the fact that he just kept loving R even after all those years they spent apart, even after he told himself that he was just a hull of who he was before, but R saw right throught him the moment they met again and Hobie fell in love all over again.

Katy I swear I'm gonna need to file a restraining order against you to keep R and Hobie away from you BECAUSE YOU NEED TO LET THEM BE HAPPY FOR ONCE ABJSDAKD THEY DESERVE ALL THE FUCKING LOVE IN THE WORLD LET THEM GO BACK TO THEIR OAK TREE AND MAKE THAT THEIR HOUSE AGAIN

me rn as I type this:

This was so bittersweet but I LOVED IT SO MUCH, thank you Katy for another amazing chapter❤️❤️ly!!!

Rotten Floorboards

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x Fem! Reader

Word count: 11.5k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Cowboy AU, Wild west AU, CW hallucinations, TW poisoned without your knowledge, CW violence, religious talk, CW guns, TW abuse mention, CW food mention, CW panic attack, CW injury, TW death, TW blood and gore.

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CHAPTER 7 >>> CHAPTER 8

Skinned knees, scarred hands, and venomous words, you've endured it all back home. Survived it all— his tight, firm grip on your hand that only loosened around guests, finger always running along the gold band on your finger, a reminder of your hatred, a different reminder for him. Then your aunt's yelling in your ears until you could only hear her thunderous words at night even when you're alone. Her pen that does more than sign documents, the sharp end pointed directly on your palm, stabbing and cutting along your life line as if it could end your life right then and there— sometimes you wish it could. Then him, your uncle who had his hand in cutting your ties with the man you love, whose echoing footsteps walk outside your door at night, never giving you reprieve from the pain of being awake in that mausoleum of a home. All that pain, all that abuse you've suffered from your so-called kin doesn't compare to seeing Hobie's limp body under the monstrous weight of steel and ash.

Your heart has stayed inside your stomach since then, his green eyes closed, breathing shallow than the well that your uncle threatened to push you inside— you won't drown in it, you'll just crack your neck and your spine while you lay in tepid dirty water. You feel like that now, hopeless, blank eyes staring at the sky, seeing the world pass by from inside the well.

You've never left his side, feeling as if you'd regret it if you did even for a moment. You've regretted a lot of things, letting your parents go on that doomed expedition, and letting your aunt dictate the rest of your life. Never again. So you don't leave, you don't drink, you don't eat while the stranger who helped carry Hobie into the shabby inn treats him.

Your own wounds ache, festering under the heat of the southern sun. The humidity is clinging to your skin, making it all worse, making the pathetic bandage around your ear throb from the pain, tethering from infection. The walls of the small room they've put you in is suffocating, walls that feel like it's closing you in, dark hardwood that sweats from the sheer heat, and floorboards that creak and squeak from your footsteps. But you'd rather stay upstairs than what's below you. It smells there, especially when the day runs hotter than the surface of a boiling pot. It's probably because the whole building is old and moldy. Or there's something dead hiding underneath the rotten bloated wood.

The alligators outside your window hiss and groan, birds you've never seen before get eaten the moment they step foot inside the marsh. It's not fair, you think, for they only wanted to eat yet they ended up getting eaten themselves.

The night gives your nerves a break, the cooler air breezing through your injuries, taking the pain away for only a moment. Fireflies gather outside the willow tree that you've been staring at since you've arrived. Hobie sleeps under it all, from all the noise and the heat. You've held his hand the entire time, even with the bandages around your palms you could still feel him, feel his pulse, feel how he still breathes. Your eyes are dry and red, tears gone from how much you've cried on his bedside, and pleaded to the man to save him whatever it takes. The rickety armchair that has one leg missing has been your home, the room is your land, and Hobie has been your reason to stay.

You held his hand in yours, watching as his eyelids moved about, a sign that he still lives and thinks despite the trauma to the head he endured when the train crashed. The bandage around his head has turned red from his wound. He protected you, did everything to shield you from death. You'd cry if you still had any tears left to give.

Dawn has arrived, and you hear a knock at the door. It's quiet, almost silent as if the sound would disturb Hobie's slumber.

“Come in,” your voice is still hoarse from the noose that wrapped around your neck. It's small, barely there, barely having the resemblance of your former self.

With a creak, the door opens, and a familiar face pops out. “Just checkin’ on ya.” His southern drawl is thick, shaven face illuminated by the lamp he holds. “I need to change his bandages. And yours if you'd permit me.” Entering the room, he shakes his leather bound bag with the initials ‘T.M.’ embossed on it. The metal and glass inside clinks against each other.

You watch him carry himself with confidence, but with apprehension from his gait. “Do him first.” Moving the chair aside, you still don't fully leave Hobie.

“Alright,” his friendly eyes look at you with uncertainty. Kneeling down next to the bed, he examines Hobie's head, gently unspooling the cloth. That's the only time you look away, refusing to see him that way or it might wiggle its way into your dreams. “I’ve realized that I haven't asked for your name, miss.” You hear his bag unzipping while you stare at the outside world blanketed in deep blue. “Not your fault though, Holden brought you in haste.”

“Holden?” You ask, eyes scanning along the marsh.

“That's the big brooding man that carried him in. My name's Thomas, by the way, what's yours?” The smell of putrid ointment hits your nose, you refuse to cover the smell.

You give him a fake name, a name that isn't known to many, a name that isn't plastered in every bounty board across the country. “It's Clementine.”

“What a pretty name, I'd shake your hand but 'm occupied right now.” He chuckles, and you hold your breath while he continues to treat Hobie. After minutes of silence, you hear the rustle of fabric as he closes the bandages around his head.

You turn to look, the sight of Hobie just laying there is sobering. You've always known him as a strong person, always burying his heels in, independent in all the ways, and speaking his mind when he needs to be. The opposite of you, but right now, you have to be the one that's strong enough for him, to fight, care, and protect him if need be while he recovers. You don't know if you can do it, but it comes easily to you because it's Hobie, you've already done so a lifetime ago. You inhale deeply, finally meeting Thomas’ brown eyes.

“Thank you, for helping, you don't know us but you still helped. I promise I'm going to pay you back for the room and…” you look at the room that still bares Hobie's blood all over the floor, and his things thrown in the corner. “And everything else.”

“No, need.” Thomas smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. Crow's feet evident in his smile. “Just seein’ him get better slowly is enough for me.” You give him a weak but genuine smile. “Your turn, miss?”

“I'm fine.”

“I've been a doctor for twenty years, and you're clearly not fine. Especially that ear of yours. I've seen better ears from pigs in line for the slaughter.”

You glance at Hobie's sleeping face, finally relenting. “Okay.”

“I'll try to be quick, I promise.” You scooch your chair closer, immediately holding Hobie's hand like his skin is magnetized. “I don't want to ask but, this injury doesn't look like it came from the train derailing.” He starts to peel off the shoddy bandage that you hastily put on, your skin feels like on fire. You don't mind it anymore, you've felt worse.

You sniff, eyes glued onto the gold ring dangling from Hobie's neck. “A piece of metal from the train nicked it.”

“And your hands?” He nods at your burned palms hidden under cloth.

“Heat from the metal when I tossed it off him.” A half lie.

“Ah,” Thomas cleans your wound with the same putrid ointment. He tugs at your raw skin, you bite your tongue on instinct. “Maybe I shouldn't ask about your neck then.” The angry mark left by the lasso still stays, you know it'll stay there forever. If not, then in your mind.

You look back at the stranger, eyes pointed and daring. “Don't ask.”

There's new cloth around your ear, muffling the sounds made by the house. “Then I won't.” He seizes his movements, eyeing your hand around Hobie's. “May I treat your hands?”

“It's fine, mister Thomas.”

“It's doctor, actually,” there's amusement in his eyes. “I’ve got a license and everythin’. You should see it, it's very professional lookin’.”

You crack a smile, “sorry, doctor.” With slight apprehension, you slide your hands away from Hobie's before laying your palms on your lap. “Do you own this place?”

“I do, sort of.” He unwraps your hands, revealing the angry skin underneath. Sucking in his teeth, you already know it's healing badly. But he still tries, for that you owe him everything.

“Sort of?”

“It's my sisters’ you see, they went on this business trip to get more funds for the place so they asked me to look after it for a few weeks.”

“I'm guessing that you had to leave your practice.” You flick your eyes over to Hobie's rising and falling chest to check on him. Satisfied, you look back at the doctor handling you with care. “That must've been horrible.”

“Havin’ sisters?” He jokes.

“No, leaving it all behind.”

His smile falters. “Don't cry crocodile tears for me, miss, I'll be back there treating the sick in no time.” His head tilts curiously at the old scar on your palm, ghosting his thumb over it. “What happened to this one?”

You want to say that it was because of her, that she did it. But this is one of the rare times that it wasn't her fault. Yet, when it was, she's good at hiding the evidence. Your aunt wasn't an idiot, she knew how to turn a girl into her personal workhorse that you whip and punch to obey without leaving any marks, without showing the world and causing them any concern for your well-being. So you tell the halfhearted truth.

“It was a long time ago, there's no cause for concern on that one.” It healed, a remembrance, telling you that everything will heal if you give it time— that Hobie will heal. You meet his eyes, finding it hard to read the old man. “How about Holden and the others I saw? I didn't get a good look at them when I entered but I saw a few guests. Are they guests?” You question him because that's what Hobie would do.

“Holden lives nearby who just happens upon the train wreck. He has a small stable in town, in Saint Denis. If you want he can take in your horses? They're mighty fine, I don't want them getting soiled by the marsh.”

“That…” you think for a second. If the horses are gone then you'd lose your only way out. Hobie would say no. “No, thank you, I'll take care of them.”

“You sure? Fine by me, there's hay inside the stable for ‘em.”

“The others? You were talking about them.” You continue to push the subject.

“Ah yes, sorry ‘bout that, old mind and all. Well, there's Eli, he's been stayin’ with us for quite a while. A priest on a mission we call him.” You listen intently, taking note of every single detail. “Then there's Lucy, she's a regular ‘ere, always comin' and goin'. Accordin’ to my sisters.”

You nod as he finishes your hands that's now tightly wrapped with bandages. Thomas begins to stand up, gathering his things. “Will he be okay?” Will he wake up?

He sighs, there's something behind his eyes that you can't quite pinpoint. “It’s hard to tell.” Your heart hammers inside your ribcage. “But he has so far survived the night, I think he'll pull through.”

“Thank you, again. I'll repay you, I promise.” You reach for Hobie's hand, letting your warmth seep through his clammy hands.

Thomas' eyes flick between your hand and eyes. “Don't mention it. I'll bring a basin with drinking water for him. Drip water onto his lips every few hours so he won't dehydrate.”

You nod in understanding. “I will, thank you ”

“Then some food and water for you.” He smiles, opening the door and looking over his shoulder to glance at you.

“No need—”

“How would you care for him when you don't take care of yourself? You need the energy. What would he say?”

You chuckle, squeezing his hand tighter. “He’d call me a wanker for not eating.”

Thomas knits his brows, turning back towards you. “A what?”

“Nothing, it's something profane.”

He chortles, wiping his hand across his nose like he smelled something foul. And you smell it too— the sourness, the moment he opened the door. Maybe a rat died under the staircase. “I won't ask then. Get some rest, miss Clementine.”

The door clicks and you're once again alone with him. It hits you again, how dire your situation is. There's a rock in the back of your mind that keeps rolling about, reminding you how close Hobie was from dying in your arms. But there's another boulder in the pit of your stomach, it tells you of a fate that could befall you now that you're here, close to the person looking for you. You'd rather jump towards the alligators than be back in their hold.

Hobie will wake up, you know he will. For now, you'd stay by his side, play the good nurse and protect him as much as you can because he would do it if the roles were reversed. You hold his ring in between your fingers, letting the cold metal melt into your warm skin.

—

You whisper to him, words that you're afraid of letting go, words that you wish would wake him up. You wonder what he dreams of, is it home? Is it something good? Or is he dreaming of you? You'll ask him when he wakes up, he'll wake up, you know he will.

There's another knock at the door a few hours later. Thomas enters with a tray that smells of something savoury, you've forgotten how hungry you are. But how could you indulge when Hobie lays there like a statue?

“I have some duck for ya, and a loaf. It's not much but it'll fill you up.” He senses your trepidation. “Please eat, you'll get weaker if you don't. ‘sides, no one will take care of him if you fall ill.” The utensils rattles as he places the tray in your hands.

You stare at the food with a blank stare. Guilt eats you alive, grief devouring what's left of you. “C-can you…” you clear your dry throat, “can you check on him? See if his breathing is alright?”

Thomas nods curtly after a moment, placing his fingers above his pulse, timing it on a watch that dangles from his waist coat. You don't touch the warm food until he's done. “His breathin’s fine, he's a fighter.”

You finally feel like you can exhale again. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” standing up, Thomas points at the bowl filled with water where a cloth floats atop it. “That's for him, from what we talked about.”

“I remember.” You're already squeezing the cloth, releasing excess water before you place the tray on his bedside to slowly let the water drip on Hobie's dry lips. With every drop, you pray to whoever is listening to will him awake.

“I'll leave you to it,” the door closes, and you're once again left in your dark thoughts where your fears have come true.

In between eating and playing nurse, your eyes start to get heavy with every bite of the succulent meat. You couldn't help but finish it to the bone, letting it fill your belly, leaving half of the loaf for Hobie when he wakes up. After chugging a whole pitcher of water and emptying Hobie's bowl by slowly but surely letting him drink, you place the tray down on the ground to lay down next to him carefully. There's a headache forming in-between your eyes, maybe you're incredibly fatigued than you thought you were. You're mindful of his injuries but not your own as you lay on your injured ear. It's self flagellation, as if everything that has happened was your fault the moment you stepped foot in the new world. As your eyes get uncomfortably heavy, mind foggy, you fall asleep curled up on his side.

You open your eyes and you're back home. The gilded walls of your room open up to you like a theater curtain. Your chest heaves, eyes filled with tears that you refuse to let go. Chiffon and velvet dress hugging you tightly, too tight, suffocating you slowly like a hand on your throat. Hand upon your chest, you rip it all off as if the garment burns you. But it isn't enough to get rid of it all, so you walk over to your table in haste, grabbing a sharp letter opener to slash and tear at the threads putting it all together. One by one, the once pretty gown is torn to shreds at your feet, from bodice to skirt, it all lays on the ground like discarded meat. In a flash, your eyes see red and bloodied muscle still writhing on the floor instead of fabric. As soon as it appears, it's gone after a beat.

You stand there in your slip, but the heaviness in your chest persists, hands and legs going numb— a testament to your shallow breathing. Your hands glide along your body to find anything tight around you, gasping and still in a panic, your hands stop around your neck that holds a string of diamonds. Without a second thought, you snatch the shiny thing away from your clammy skin, breaking the chain in the process.

Air enters your lungs the moment it's gone. Palms above your chest, you inhale and exhale whilst hot tears flow out of your eyes in a shower of sorrow. Leaning over the table for balance, your eyes meet with a familiar handwriting addressed to you. You're brought back in time the second your hand touches it, brought back to five years ago when Hobie slipped you a note during a party. You read it again, telling you that everything was ready, that he's ready to run away with you, somewhere far away and that you should pack your things.

After you read it, the letter dissolves into dark ink that drips down to your feet. You're holding the new letter again, opening the plain wax seal, you read the contents. Then you read it over and over until you get your mind wrapped around the saccharine yet sorrowful words that are all written in his hand. Hobie, the one you've been mourning since the news hit you.

His address is written hastily next to his own name, you laugh and then sob, hugging the letter to your chest. The scene shifts as if you've entered the fog and into a new world. You're in front of the docks, a large ship looming over you. You're dressed in a pair of borrowed trousers from Peter's wife, whilst the older man himself speaks by your side but you can't make out his words. It's all a garbled mess. For some reason, his hands are dripping with blood, but you don't point it out.

You tell him something, and he shakes his head with a smile, eyepatch moving as he gently nudges you towards the ship. The night hides his face, and all the secrets haunting you, even with the full moon shining down. As you wave goodbye, the ship unfurls its sails, sailors reeling the anchor up, and the captain steering the ship towards your future. You watch as Peter's silhouette gets farther until he's a mere dot in your sight.

You raise your head up to watch the swirling sky, falling stars raining down, and the moon smiling back at you. Someone whispers your name, and you instinctively turn around, expecting a fate worse than death thinking that they've found you. But you're greeted by Hobie himself, still in the same clothes you last saw him in, hair short, and face flat.

“Hobie?” You sound like you're underneath the waves.

“Run.”

You're awoken by the squeak from the rotten hinges. Sitting up, your eyes adjust to the light, seeing a silhouette of a tall, bony man in black and white. Vision focusing, you see him awkwardly stop in front of the doorway, the white square on his collar tells you that this is the reverend Thomas was talking about. He has a patch work of a beard and an aura of weariness.

“Eli,” your mouth speaks before you could think.

“That's me,” he chuckles, clearing his throat right after. His hands are behind his back, prompting you to be more wary of the man.

“What are you doing here?” You sit properly, hand placed on your gun belt, feeling the cold metal of Hobie's gun on your palm.

“I–I was…” his blue eyes flick from your gun to Hobie's sleeping face. “Thinking of p-praying for him.”

“He’s not dead yet, reverend.” Your harsh voice cuts through the man.

“I don't mean any offense.” He holds his empty hands up, you glance at his rough hands and the tattoo on his wrist revealed from how his sleeve rode down. It's something you can't quite get a good look at. Noticing your stare, Eli brings his hands down, pulling down his sleeves. “Praying for his swift recovery. That's what I meant.”

“You can pray for him outside our door. Better yet, pray downstairs.” You stare him down. “Where's your book of prayers?”

“I'm sorry, I should've knocked.” You can't place his accent. “I thought you were asleep—”

“And that makes it alright to barge in?”

He balances on the balls of his feet, your eyes instinctively flick over to his leather shoes that are too shiny, too kept as if he just bought it or cleaned it for the occasion. “We got off on the wrong foot, I'm sorry, miss…Clementine. My name's Eli.” Reaching for you, you only look at his hand without shaking it.

“I didn't give you my name.”

The reverend takes his hand back with a wince. “I–I got it from Thomas.” Your jaw tightens, eyes boring holes into his forehead. Thankfully, he reads the room and your expression. “I should go—”

“You should. Goodbye.”

The reverend doesn't turn his back on you, opening the door with what you could read as a cursory apologetic look. “I'm sorry, again.”

You grunt in reply. With the door clicking close, you stand up, taking a spare chair that Thomas always sits down on to lodge it under the doorknob. Locking the door and battening down the hatches. It's what Hobie would do, it's what he always does when he thinks you've fallen asleep.

“Wanker.” You scoff out before sitting back down next to Hobie. You don't find sleep after that. Your mind is too noisy, too chaotic to find sleep even though your body demands it.

—

Two days in and Hobie is still unresponsive, he breathes, even twitches in his sleep but he's unable to wake up. It's pure torture for you, seeing him lay there while you try your best at taking care of him. You've even tasked yourself at watching the good doctor clean his wounds and replace the bandages so you could do it yourself. You miss his smile, his laugh, and how he holds your hand. It’s just like how you've felt for those five long years, but this time you can see him, touch him, and take care of him but he doesn't speak nor look back at you. You don't know which one is worse.

Thomas says he's getting better, but you still worry. You play his nurse and a grieving widow at the same time. Everytime Hobie's breath hitches or even when his finger twitches you sit up, frantically calling the doctor to check on him. He always says the same thing, ‘he’s just dreaming,’ it doesn't fill you at ease, especially if it's anywhere near the dreams you've been having.

Three meals are brought to you every day, and each meal has brought you to sleep. You blame the trauma you've experienced, the things you've seen, the things you've done— it brings you towards the precipice of life and death each time, and without fail, you dream of him. Hobie still sleeps on the lumpy bed, body lay still, breathing sturdy and true. You don't mind the sleep, but the dreams you've had aren't always good, so you'd rather keep your eyes open than face the horrors that sleep brings.

Sometimes your mind wanders off, vision whirling to something else, something worse than him laying unresponsive to the world outside. In the corner of the dark room, you see a bloodied fountain pen with soiled grain littered around it. You turn around to look away, and you see something worse, his pristine white suit is a glaring contrast to the almost dilapidated state of the room, acting like a beacon of pain for you. He doesn't smile, nor come closer to you, he just stands there, back straight like he owns the place, light green eyes aglow like the fireflies outside but none of the comfort.

The blood in your veins runs cold at the sight, so you turn away from him as he stands guard with his judging eyes. Your eyes land towards Hobie to calm you down and bring yourself back to reality. He still sleeps, bandages wrapped around his head, eyelids twitching while he dreams. With a sigh, you suddenly see a pair of eyes under his bed, you're frozen at the sight of a large hand appearing from underneath, nails dark and rotten, wounds littered around the arm, decaying and sour smelling. You see it give you a crooked smile. Heart thrumming, the hand grabs Hobie's wrist, blackened blood oozing from its touch. With horror in your belly but bravery in your heart, you yank the hand away, finding it bursting into a cloud of smoke the moment you touched it.

“You alright?” Thomas asks, he watches you catch your breath from the doorway.

Your hand is closed around nothing, still held up in front of you, gasping at nothingness. You inhale, clearing your throat and bringing down your trembling hand to your lap. “Y-yeah, I think I'm just too hot.”

Thomas nods, eyes roaming around the room. “You've been cooped up in this room for two days. I think some fresh air would do you some good.”

You immediately shake your head. “I can't leave him. Besides, there's a window here, I get enough air as it is.”

“Pardon my bluntness but, you need to stretch around, get a different scenery or you'll go mad seeing the same walls.” Thomas crosses the gap, tentatively placing his hand on your shoulder. His palm hovers slightly above your blouse, not truly holding you. “I can watch him for you, the worst has come to pass already. I know he'll wake up eventually.”

You glance at Hobie's face, he does look better than before. There's color on his lips again, his breathing stable, skin no longer clammy and his wounds are starting to scab over. And the horses need your attention too, you have no idea how they're faring since they got here. You ponder leaving him for a moment.

“...okay, j-just for a few minutes.” But you still don't trust Thomas enough to leave Hobie alone with him. “You don't have to watch him.”

“Alright, I understand where you're comin' from. Hell, I'll give you the key to the room if it makes you feel any better.” Thomas takes out a ring of keys from his pocket, and then he takes out an old key from the metal ring to hand to you. “Just bring it back after.”

“Alright, thank you, that actually fills me with ease.” You close your fingers around the key, letting the metal press down into your burned palms.

“I'll be downstairs. I promise if I hear anythin’, even a squeak I'll come runnin’ out to get you.” Thomas smiles, back already turned to leave.

Your voice calls him back. “Doctor, you've seen death, do you think there's an afterlife?” You suddenly ask him, Thomas stops in his tracks, chuckling softly.

“I don't know, love.” You raise a brow, head turning immediately to face him. “I think it's best if you ask the reverend that. I'm sure he can provide you with an answer.”

“But you've seen people die, right? From your patients, to just…living. I want your opinion on the matter.” You push the subject, eyes heavy and tired. You can feel every bone in your body as your vision shifts, seeing iridescent light pass through the windows and shine in Thomas' face. When your eyes focus, the light is gone.

Thomas scratches his head. “From what I experienced?” You nod, “I don't think so. I think there's just darkness right after.” He sniffs, hands placed in his pockets. “I really think you should talk to the reverend, he might provide a more comforting answer.”

“Maybe I should.” Your voice drifts off, eyes blankly staring outside.

“You sure you're alright?”

“I don't know.” You don't see how red your eyes have become, or the bags weighing it down.

Thomas leaves without another word. You don't leave the room after that, and the key stays with you to hold onto, letting the metal dig into your palms.

—

Startling awake, you sit up from the whispers that have managed to slither its way inside your ears. You look over your side, seeing Hobie asleep and safe, you begin to sit up, head pounding roughly against your skull as if you've been hit by something in your sleep.

More whispers echo out into the darkness, your eyes wander around the room, finding no one so you listen closely. You glance at the floor, ears straining to hear, you realize the voices are coming out from beneath.

Slowly clambering away from the bed, hand reluctantly releasing Hobie's hand, you make your way onto the floor, laying yourself down on the cool wood. Pressing your ears, you listen in on the murmured conversation.

“She barely sleeps!” A woman's voice exclaims, it's followed by shushing. “It doesn't even work on her. I'm at my fuckin’ limit.”

“We need to be patient—” Someone says.

You press your face down closer to hear better. “We've been patient. We need to—” the floorboards creak from your movement. And they immediately quiet down.

You lay there perfectly still, but no sound from downstairs can be heard. Standing up, you check the doors if you've locked it properly this time, and you pat the gun on your hip to feel if it's still there. The unfounded trust that you've given to the strangers downstairs are wavering by the minute. But you can't leave, not until Hobie wakes up, or you might disturb his healing.

—

You gasp awake, trembling in your seat, the wounds on your palms have reopened from how your nails have dug into your broken palms. It's another nightmare, another nightmare that has kept you awake. Hobie still sleeps, and you're still trapped inside the small dusty room.

The heels of your palms rub roughly on your eyelids, washing away the nightmare and sleep. Laying your head on the back of the chair, you stair at the ceiling and the cracking paint. There's a dark red spot near the middle, it's barely noticeable but it's there. The longer you stare at it, the bigger it gets. You fight a sob as you abruptly stand up, maybe you should take Thomas on his offer by going outside. It doesn't hurt to leave for a few minutes, right? Surely no one is awake at the break of dawn, so Hobie is safe to be left for a moment. And he's comfortable with the window opened, letting the cool early morning breeze inside.

You sit down on his bedside, hands gently cupping his own. “I'll be back, alright? I just need to check on Buck and Cherry.” He doesn't answer. “Maybe they can tell me how they managed to find us. Or maybe what you told me before was actually right, that they can smell us. Like loyal hounds we had back at the manor.” Your words drift away as your eyes lose focus, staring at the raised scar on his neck. You sniff, bringing yourself back to reality. “Please wake up, I feel like— just please wake up. Yell my name when you do and I'll come running back.” You kiss his knuckles, eyes glancing at the pair of white trousers standing in the corner. “I'll be back.”

You stand up, ignoring all the ghostly eyes staring at your back. They're not real, you whisper to yourself. Opening the door and locking it behind you before you could change your mind. The key is safely tucked away in your breast pocket. A headache rushes by, you almost fall on your knees from the pain.

As you stand shakily in the hallway, the floors seem to shift and change. It stretches before you while you walk, as if it won't allow you to escape the place. You close your eyes tightly, grounding yourself by holding onto the wall. When you open your eyes, you see your aunt standing at the end of the long hallway. She's clad in black, a long coat hiding her entire body, from her neck to the tips of her feet. Her hair is stark white against the dark material, strands that are longer than you last saw her. You can barely see her face, but it's odd, like something's amiss.

“Where are your eyes, dear aunt?” You ask in a small voice, as if you've returned to the young age you first met her.

She opens her maw, a deep dark crevice of sharp teeth all lined up in rows. You hear your name escape from her unhinged jaw, it's whispered close in your ears. “You can't leave.”

“I just did.” You say without remorse, and without guilt. “Watch me leave again.” With measured steps you walk closer to the vision, as you get closer and closer, her body turns transparent until you've walked through her. And everything returns to normal. You've reached the banisters overlooking downstairs, hand clasped tightly around the wood. Shaking, but victorious. “Not real.”

You look over the railing, eyes roaming around the small space. There's a small common room where a fireplace that doubles as the kitchen lies. A large man sleeps on the single couch facing the fireplace, snoring softly, arms crossed over his chest. A humble bar is placed across it, where amber liquid in foggy glass sits on the shelves. Leaning closer, you spot a door on the floor that could lead to a basement of some sort. The surfaces have been wiped clean except for the tops of the shelves that are caked in dust. There's minimal decorations, save for a few pictures hanging on the walls. Then it hits you, the smell of the place. From sour milk to rotten eggs, you can barely decipher what it is, only decay.

You can see the place being homely after a renovation if not for the stench.

The wooden bannister creaks when you put your weight on it, you flinch away before it gives out from under you. You walk slowly down the small steps of the stairway, legs shaking from the thrumming headache behind your eyes, feet swaying like you're drunk off of moonshine. You attribute it from the vision you saw and from how fatigued you are. But your shoes barely clack against the floor from your footsteps. Your eyes skim over the photographs on the walls, yellowed paper and old frames of family. You look for Thomas in any of the pictures, but he's absent in every single one.

You finally make it down without waking anyone. The man, Holden, you surmise based on the description Thomas gave you, still snores on the couch. Crossing the threshold, you unlock the front door to go outside.

The entire marsh is bathed in blue, sun barely peeking in the horizon. A breeze passes by, goosebumps rising on your arms from the cold. You should've brought your coat with you, but it's too late now. If you go back upstairs, you think you cannot go back down.

You already feel like you're coming back to your old self. Eyes still weighing heavy in its sockets but at least the air and the greenery have grounded you back to reality. You have no idea what has befallen you, why you've been having visions of your family. Maybe it's the sleep deprivation, or maybe the living has decided to haunt you for all the things you've done to survive.

Walking along the wooden paths that prop you up from the mud, you follow it further down towards the small stable. The birds are beginning to wake up, chirping just above the canopies of tall willow trees. With every footstep, your feet sink slightly into the mud, soil swallowing down the planks of wood laid down as a makeshift path. Flies buzz around your legs, you swat away any that comes near your healing wounds.

You finally make it towards the stable, opening the door with slight force since the hinges are long rotten from the wear and tear of the moist environment. You finally crack it open, seeing seven horses in their little pens on the side. The wood inside is in the same state as the inn, bloated and decaying from age. Light filters through the cracks, dust and bloatflies flying all over the horses.

Bucky peeks his head when he hears you enter, he immediately recognizes you, hind legs stomping in excitement. You smile genuinely at the dark horse, walking towards his stable, still swaying slightly on your feet. Cherry appears from behind Bucky, coat muddy and hair tangled. You guess that they had to share a pen because of the lack of space in the stable.

“Hi, you two.” You reach up towards their faces, Bucky nuzzles your hand while Cherry huffs against your palm. “I'm sorry, I should've visited you earlier. But Hobie needed my attention.” With the mention of his rider, Buckeye neighs, leaning away, almost standing up on two legs. You think that he worries for him. “It's alright, calm down, boy. He's getting better.”

Bucky shakes his head, so you scratch the back of his ear where he always seems to like. You coo at him, whispering kind words towards the horse for finding you and Hobie amidst the wreckage with Cherry in tow. You enter their pen, brushing your hands along his fur and hair. Hobie's canteen peeks from his saddlebag on Bucky, so you take it, taking big gulps before placing it back inside the pack. You feel a lot better already.

Cherry watches you and Bucky interact. When she's had enough of Bucky getting all of your attention, she nudges your shoulder, nodding and huffing like a petulant child. “Alright, alright, I didn't forget about you.” Chuckling, you rub along her snout, you find that she likes to be pet there the most. “Have you been good? I'd give you both an apple or sugarcube but I don't have any on me.” You spot the bundle of hay near the entrance. “Is hay good enough? When we get out of here I'll give you both all the sugar cubes and fruit you could ever want.”

Leaving their side after numerous pets, you grab a pitchfork laying on the corner to grab some hay to place in their pen. Once both horses are properly fed and petted, you look around the stable for a horse brush, but the only thing you could find were more horses looking at you with curious eyes. You're more confused though, you see five horses in each pen, but there are only four guests inside the inn that you know of. There's Thomas, Eli, and Holden that you've already met. Then there's the mysterious Lucy. Whose horse is it that is alone in the corner? Maybe it's a spare? Nevertheless, you feed all of them.

“I'll be back,” you fold your knees to grab a bucket on the floor. “Let me just get some water for—”

��You're speaking to horses.”

“Jesus!” You clutch your chest from the sudden intrusion.

“Just me, sorry.” A woman stands in the doorway, hands on her shiny belt buckle, red corset tight on her torso, revealing freckles dusted on her shoulders and clavicle. She smiles, showing a gold tooth in the bottom row of her teeth. The sun has now fully risen outside, bathing her back in light, shadows hiding her face from you. “I'm Lucy, you must be Clementine.”

You clear your throat before you almost made the mistake of correcting her. “Y-yeah. Nice to meet you.”

“Why are you doing manual labor? Aren't you injured?”

“I am, but I'm feeling a lot better now thanks to the doctor.”

“Thomas?”

“Yeah, is there another doctor here?”

She chuckles, stepping forward out of the shadows. You see her chiseled face, lips full and pretty, more freckles lined around her eyes and cheeks. Her blond hair is tied in a neat braid, cowboy hat perfectly fitted around her head. There's a hunting rifle strapped on her back, and a large ornate knife on her waist.

“I'll take care of the water. Breakfast is being served inside if you're hungry.” She says with a lilt in her tone. “There's sausage, the good kind. I think you'll like it.”

“You've got their water?” You ask, glancing at your horses.

“Yeah, I've got them.” She crosses the small distance towards you, you don't drop your guard even when her hand grabs the bucket away from you. “I've been the one looking after them.”

“Oh, thank you then. I hope they're not too much of a bother.”

“Not really. Especially your Arabian there, she's real pretty.” Lucy eyes Cherry like a piece of meat on the chopping block. “How much for her?”

“Excuse me?” You scoff. “She's not for sale.”

“Alright, understandable. How about the thoroughbred?”

“No,” you stand stiff, jaw clenched. “They're not for sale.”

She grins slowly, brown eyes flat and staring at your soul. Shrugging, she begins to walk outside. “Eh, it's worth the try. Your loss, I would've bought them at a mark up.” Her voice fades away as she leaves.

You stand there with your fists shaking, you're perturbed by the people residing in the inn. You think Thomas and Holden are the only decent ones inside.

Cherry neighs behind you, you look over your shoulder to meet with her eyes. “The nerve of some people, huh?” Buckeye agrees by trotting in place.

Walking back towards the inn already has you sweating from the humidity. Once you open the door, all eyes are on you. Thomas stands behind the bar, preparing a plate. While Holden eats on one of the empty bar stools with a cup of steaming coffee paused on his lips as he stares at you. The reverend was just about leaving the basement when you entered, hand frozen on the handle of the basement door.

The doctor breaks the awkward silence. “Good morning. Did ya have a nice walk outside?”

You flex your hands on your sides, biting the inside of your cheek. “It was…pleasant.”

Eli casually stands up and then sits on the sofa near the fire and the cooking pot. He opens a large book, reading like he didn't just leave the basement as if he owned the place.

“Come have breakfast with us.” Thomas beckons you over, sliding the plate he was just preparing over to you. “I was just about to go upstairs and give this to ya.”

“Thank you, I'll eat it in my room. I don't want to disturb you all.” You come closer to the bar, fingers placed around the porcelain plate. You feel eyes on you, Holden continues to eat in the corner of your eyes. Eli is mouthing scriptures at his seat.

“No, no, come stay!” Thomas hands you a cup of coffee. The smell brings you back home. It's not a good memory. “It'll do you some good to have company, even for a moment. Please stay.”

You nod, clammy palms rubbing along your trousers. “...sure, just for breakfast though.” Rubbing your nose, Thomas notices.

“Sorry ‘bout the smell. We think there's a rat that died in the basement but we can't seem to find it.” He picks at his own plate while leaning on the other side of the bar. “That's why the reverend was down there. It was his turn to look.”

You nod, glancing briefly at the trap door on the floor. “Can I have a glass of water instead? I don't like coffee.”

His fork clangs on the plate as he lets go. “Oh of course!” Turning around he takes a pitcher of water and then he pours you a glass. While he does that, you look at the pictures behind the bar.

“Which one are your sisters?” You gesture towards the frames, Thomas still has his back towards you as he continues to pour you a glass.

“Oh, the picture that's in the middle.” You follow where he pointed at. A photograph of two smiling women in front of the inn when it was still new and shiny hangs in the middle of the bar. Their faces are flat and serious but the way their arms are around each other says that they're particularly happy in the picture. If not for the long exposure needed to take the scene, they would be grinning widely.

You tilt your head at the picture, eyes scanning their features and comparing it to Thomas' face. “You don't look like them.”

He twists around, handing you your glass of water. “I've been told.” Chuckling, he looks back at the picture briefly before turning towards you. “They got my mother's features and I got my father's. Which parent do you look like the most?” His eyes watch the mouth of the glass against your lips.

“I barely remember their faces now.” You don't drink the water just yet to answer his question. “So I don't know.”

“That's too bad.” And yet, he smiles. “How ‘bout you, Holden? Who do you look like?”

“My mother.” He says gruffly, tone monotone and uninterested.

“Ah.” Thomas picks at his plate again.

“I haven't thanked you yet for saving him.” You address the large man. “Thank you.”

“I just happened upon the place. My eyes couldn't leave the train wreck.” Holden stares at the same spot on the bar, you follow his line of sight, once you've reached the end, you see a dark red splatter on a glass of gin.

Before you could ask, Eli interrupts. “As is his will.” He's now in front of the fire even though it's sweltering inside already. “It's very lucky that Holden happens to be riding that way.” Eli says those words with humour, as if the train derailing is the funniest thing in the world.

Thomas clears his throat, “I heard no one else on the train got hurt.” You sigh in relief, knowing the real Clementine and her family are safe and sound. “A few railroad workers were injured but they're fine now, last I heard.”

“Yes, it's good that no one else got severely hurt.” Lucy appears inside the inn, smiling at you. She stalks silently around you like you're prey. Your hand instinctively slides down towards your gun belt.

“Well, except for your lad.” Thomas says, you look at him with wide eyes, blood running cold, gun now fully in your hand. The world swirls around you, your breathing gets faster, heartbeat loud in your ears. The air shifts, everyone except Thomas stiffens. “We know who he is. He's a fuckin’ legend ‘round ‘ere, but don't worry, we won't tell any lawmen. We're not like that.” Thomas continues to speak even with your world crumbling around you. He doesn't know what he just revealed. “Drink your water, we don't want you goin' thirsty now.”

“‘L-lad?’” you almost whisper, but the entire room is silent, a pin could drop and you'd hear it. Your words are thunderous compared to the fire cracking in the fireplace. “You said you're from here.”

Thomas chuckles nervously, you stand up, eyes flicking over towards the occupants. The rotten stench under the floorboards has increased ten fold in your panic, the tiny splotches of crimson on the walls and glass aren't just dirt and grime.

It's blood, and the entire inn is covered in it. Hastily scrubbed off the surface, but the mark of death remains.

They all look at you, Holden stands behind you, his shadow casting over you. Lucy continues to smile while Eli looks on amidst the backdrop of the raging fire behind him. Thomas gives you a look, shaking his head subtly.

You don't miss a beat, gun aiming behind you to shoot. But no bullet flies, you don't hit your mark for the chamber is all emptied out without your knowledge. You don't know when it was taken out but you don't have time to ponder it. Running past Lucy towards the stairs, you yell his name.

“Hobie!” You manage to get to the third step before you fall flat on your face, nose harshly landing on the stair, shoulder oozing something warm. Looking over the source, you see Lucy's hunting knife embedded in your shoulder. “No!”

Lucy giggles, and the reverend joins her side, face downturned, eyes following how your blood oozes out of your back.

“Fuck! They said don't draw blood! What the bloody hell is wrong with you!” Thomas shows his true colours, yelling at Lucy angrily. You continue to crawl up the stairs despite the searing pain. “Fuckin’ grab her! Get the key, it's on her.”

“I'm…” you still fight, elbows pressed on the rough wood, crawling relentlessly up the stairs. “Going to fucking kill all of you.” You say through gritted teeth, ignoring the seething pain as your body trembles.

Eli's voice pipes up. “We just want to get you home. God will strike you down if you do that.”

“Strike me down all he wants. He knows where I am.” With determined eyes, you keep crawling even though your arms are split apart by splinters.

You're about halfway up the steps when you hear loud heavy footsteps walk towards your form. Groaning, you dig for the key inside your pocket. The second you find it, you toss it with all your might, it flies up and then it lands and slides under the bar shelves. It's your turn to cackle. Large hands grab you, turning you over. Holden's scowl looks back at you. Puckering your lips, you spit at his face, laughing as he lets you go, desperately cleaning his face.

“Move over, big guy. Do I have to do everything around here?” Silent steps cross over to you while you try to desperately climb up. You can't feel your back anymore. Suddenly, you feel a cloth press on your mouth and nose. You know this smell, it's sweet and tart, but there's an underlying bitterness. Recognizing it from the description on the botanical books you've read, the ones that they say a proper lady shouldn't read. And you know you're about to black out within ten seconds. You try to fight back but you're weakening.

“Shh,” Lucy coos, arm tightening around your neck as she presses the concoction harder on your nose. Her own arm hits the knife still in your shoulder, you gasp in pain, inhaling more. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

The last thing you hear is his voice calling out after you. You're not sure if it's real or not, but you still cling to hope that it is.

—

The rope around your body is rough against your skin, the hemp seems to tighten around you as you move. You feel bandages on your shoulder blade, stab wound aching and throbbing. Entire body covered in sweat, your clothes are drenched from the heat. Your vision swirls, mind tethering between reality and fantasy. You see your aunt standing near the rake you just held, your uncle crouched in the corner, watching you struggle against your binds. And him, who sits next to you, as if he's guarding you. His face crosses your line of sight, it shifts between Hobie's soft smile, and his grinning face.

“I told you, you can't leave.” He says, hand reaching up to touch your face. You know he's not real, that he's a result of what Lucy gave you, what they've been giving you— but you still feel the air around him shift, how his palm sits on your cheek like a hot pan against your skin.

“C–Cross,” you gulp down as much air as you can amidst your state. “What did I do to deserve this?”

He could only grin at you.

“You’re awake, good. Lucy didn't accidentally kill you.” Eli stands near the doorway of the stable with a gold gun in his hand. Fingers yanking off his tab collar.

“Eli, you creepy motherfucker.” You slur your words, but you fight the haze. “How much did they pay you just to bring me back?”

He sniffs, “a lot.” The horses neigh in the background, you turn your head and you see Bucky and Cherry frantically thump and kick their hooves inside their pen.

“You’re not even a reverend are you?”

“No,” He says, turning away from the doors to face you. “I was once though.”

“Let me guess, you weren't cut out to be one.” You lean up, almost folding yourself to squint at him. “Or they fucking kicked you out.” He flinches, it's subtle, but you saw it. “They did, didn't they? What did you do, reverend?” You taunt while you try to ease your wrists off from the rope. Your skin stings from the movement, but it'll be worth it once you get your hands around his scrawny neck. “Oh shit, don't tell me it's—”

“It was gambling. I've racked up a debt.” He was quick to answer, as if he's still trying to protect his reputation. “I used all the donations.”

“That's fucked up.” You scoff, riling him up, playing him like a fiddle. “Seriously, so fucked up. And you decided to what? Scam more people by wearing the uniform?” Eli doesn't answer, you see him bounce on the balls of his feet, anxiety rolling off him in waves. “Is there an afterlife, reverend?” You say in a small, weaker voice to rag on him on more. It works when he turns towards you.

“Stop talking,” He saunters over to you, crouching down to your level. “I've already heard all those words before, you don't get to hurt me back, girl.”

“Was it all of you? Holden looked like he didn't want to be in there.”

“Please, he was the one who recruited me. He knew that Thomas needed more men the moment he heard Hobie's name.”

You chuckle bitterly. “You know that one of you has damaged the goods, right?”

“Thomas healed you.”

“Yeah, but still, you've left a mark. That means the pay will go down, that means your share will go down thanks to Lucy.” You can practically see the cogs in his head turn. Tilting your head, you turn him against his own team. “Tell me, would it hurt if you got someone out? You know, increase your pay.”

“What are you saying?”

“There are plenty of alligators here. I'm saying that accidents happen.”

Eli knits his brows, “but which one—?” The unmistakable sound of a gun going off echoes around the marsh. It's so loud that the horses are startled, panicked neighing fill the stable, birds scramble off the trees to fly away. “That came from inside the inn!” He stands up, you drop your façade as he turns away. “Shit!” More shots ring out, then a dozen more, suddenly, it's quiet in the marsh again.

Eli is in the perfect position for you, his body shields you from the afternoon sun as he stands there in a worried state. His gun is in his clammy hand, hammer pushed all the way down. Without a thought, you sit up in a crouched position slowly without startling him. And then you push him on the back of his knees with your shoulder, earning a pained groan from you and a sudden bang when he falls that has you flinching away.

Rubies pool around Eli's body, and you realize, he has shot himself when he fell on his face.

“Fuck.” The voice by the doorway says, you can only see his silhouette, the setting sun directly at his back. He's hunched over, silver gun in his bloodied hand.

“Hobie, are you real?” You could cry, on instinct, you move to get to him but your binds prevent you. Tears cling to your eyelashes as he slowly makes his way towards you. “H-how?”

You can see his face fully now, blood coats his cheeks and neck, eyebrows contorted in pain but his smile tells you otherwise. “I woke up.”

“You did.” Sobbing, you try to hold him even with the ropes around your wrist. “Are you okay?”

Hobie holsters his gun, wiping the blood off his hands on his trousers, and then he cradles your face. Thumb brushing along the tears. “‘m alright, dizzy and a bit of a headache but ‘m alright.” His viridescent eyes are aglow, trapped tears glimmering. “Are you—? Did they hurt you?” He asks in a small voice, afraid of your reply.

You frown, and he already knows the answer. “I thought you wouldn't wake up.”

“With you waitin' for me, of course I'd wake up.” Hobie lays his forehead against your own. He's real, and he's holding you in his arms again. “‘m real, love. I'll never leave you again.”

You cry in his arms even when he cuts off your binds. Your mind is still reeling from the previous event. Body free, you embrace him, face tucked on the crook of his neck. He holds you, kissing your temple, hands rubbing up and down on your back. He apologizes against your skin a hundred times. And you forgive him a hundred more.

Hobie releases all the horses from the stable, all the now riderless horses gallop out in a rush. He guides Cherry and Bucky out to hitch them just outside on the trees and away from the inn and stable. Coming by to get you, who stands in front of the inn.

“I need to get my things.” He says next to you, pinky curled around your own. “Your letters are still in there.”

“I'll come with you.”

“No, you don't need to see that.” His eyes warn you of the sight ahead.

“Too late for that, Hobie.” You thump your head on his bicep. “I’ll watch your back. Just in case.”

“Stay close, yeah?” He smiles softly, letting go of your hand reluctantly. You nod behind him, gun drawn and loaded.

The door opens, you try not to look at the bodies at your feet but your eyes seem to gravitate towards the violence that was left. There's blood splattered all over the walls, Holden's body is hunched over itself, blood seeping out from his numerous gunshot wounds. You walk a bit more, following Hobie's path. Broken glass crunches at your feet, and you see Lucy laying on the ground with her own knife shoved inside her chest. Her eyes are wide open, mouth agape in surprise. By the stairs, in the same position you were in mere hours ago, lies Thomas with a shotgun wound on his back, making you see through him.

“H-how'd you manage this on your own?” Your nails scratch along the metal of your gun.

“You were in danger.” Was all he answered.

As you stand there, you hear something on the floor next to the bar, glancing downwards even though you've had enough of the sight, you find someone who shouldn't be there.

“Culver?” You ask, and he whizzes out.

“Help. Me.” He tugs at your trouser leg, he's drenched in crimson, from his face down to his boots.

“He was hiding underneath the floorboards with the bodies of the actual owners.” Hobie says, guilt is written all over your face. “It's not your fault, love, you gave him a chance and he spat at it.”

“P-please,” he wheezes out, voice hoarse and broken, “they hired me, I-I was just following orders.”

You sniff, fists shaking. “It was my aunt wasn't it?”

Culver shakes his head, desperate to please you, desperate for you to save him again. “No, it was your h—”

Your bullet cuts him off, he lays there, now unmoving, and the gun in your hand smoking. You feel like you're deprived of air. Hands shaking, tears flowing out freely.

Hobie reaches for you slowly, you don't flinch away so he pulls you in, letting you weep against his chest.

—

The flames ebb away at the building, ashes flying off into the air as the roof collapses down on itself. You let the smoke fill your lungs, watching the fire light up the entire marsh, but it acts as a beacon to where you are. And you can't risk being found, especially when he's back on your side.

You kneel down, placing the framed photograph of the actual owners on the ground, apologizing to them quietly.

“We should go, Hobs.” You softly say, tugging at his sleeves.

He nods, eyes flicking between you and the burning inn. His palm is pointed towards you, waiting for you to reach for him. When your hand slides on his own, all his fears melt away. You're safe, and he's alive— that's all that matters.

—

Midnight comes, you and Hobie rode further north and away from the chaos you two left. Bucky and Cherry sleep next to each other, both tired from the ride. You tend to the fire while Hobie cleans his hands in a nearby river. The murky water turns a dark shade of red as he scrubs his hands clean, there's blood under his fingernails. And shallow crimson slashes on his arms. Once all the blood has been washed away, he sees a slash on his palm, identical to yours, the one he sutured himself. He winces, and you turn around to check on him. The both of you had been quiet the entire journey, preferring to look on whenever one groans in pain or when either one of you shifts on the saddle. You don't want to talk about it, and he doesn't want to either. Both thinking that it was his and your fault for everything that had happened.

He holds up a hand to you, wordlessly telling you that he's alright. Nodding, you turn back towards the fire, your vision shifts from the campfire in front of you to the burning cinders of the inn. A wet cloth on your cheek jerks you awake.

“Sorry,” Hobie flinches, taking the cold cloth away from your skin. “You have soot all over your face.”

You smile softly, hand reaching for his wrist, gently placing the cloth back to your face. He understands, wiping away the ash off of your skin. You stare at him, face unreadable, bandage still wrapped around his head. “Hobie,” he hums in reply, continuing to wipe the grime off. “You said you had to leave but you never told me how you left. Please tell me what happened that night.” Why did you leave me?

Hobie scooches closer to you, knee to knee, hand still wiping along your forehead. “Hicks did it.” You listen, hands fisting his vest to tamp down your frustration and everything in between. “He was the one who found out, told your aunt and got a group from the factory to ambush me in our meeting place.” His voice breaks but he composes himself. “He was the one who slashed my throat and…” faltering, the cloth slid downwards to your neck, rubbing along your skin. “buried me alive under our tree.”

Your heart clenches, imaging him clawing his way out of the dark earth. “Hicks, h-he married my aunt six months after you left. That motherfucker boasted that he killed you, hid your body in the woods. But I knew better.”

Hobie runs his thumb under your eye, wiping away a stray tear. He gives you a brief smile. “Fucker wasn't content in bein’ the factory manager, he had to ‘eliminate the competition,’ he said. I wasn't even participatin’.”

“I'm sorry,” you wrap your arms over his shoulders, hands holding his jaw. You apologize to him like an acolyte asking for retribution in front of the shrine. “I'm sorry, I should've done something— I could've—”

“There was nothin' you could've done, love. Just like how I couldn't fight back.” He pulls you in, face pressed on the crown of your head. “They used you against me. Told me that you didn't want me anymore. Told me I was a burden to you.”

“No, never. I'd never do that.” You pull away, holding him close, meeting his emerald eyes that reminds you of the best parts of home.

“I know that now. I knew it back then too, but my anger and frustration got the best of me.” He presses a heavy kiss on your forehead as you close your eyes, listening to him breathe. “Peter helped me get out, and all he got from it was getting his eye taken out.”

You gasp softly. “He helped me too,” Hobie looks at you, hands still cradling your face. Hands that are warm against your soft skin. “He didn't tell anyone where you were, I didn't know until now, until your letter. He helped me get on a boat.” You remember that day, it was raining, it was also pouring down back when Hobie left. Your nails dig into your palms when your mind gives you the image of him digging himself out of the flooded soil, lungs inhaling in rain water and dirt. “I–I really wanted to look for you, to run after you but I couldn't.” Hobie presses you against his chest while you heave, tears flowing down your cheeks as you feel his own drop on your head. “They had me under lock and key, they guarded my doors for years, until—” You pause, hands bunched up on his shirt. “I'm so fucking sorry.”

Hobie cradles you in place, arms holding your form as he lets his touch calm you down, accepting your apology, and accepting his faults. “You did good, love, you survived. But I'm ‘ere now, you'll never be back there.” You nod against his chest, Hobie hides his sorrow filled face in the crook of your neck, lips pressed on your skin, mumbling apologies. “When I was runnin’ away while I was still bleedin’, I thought I should at least say goodbye to you. But I changed my mind and went towards the docks while Peter hid me in his cart.” He leans away, just like back then, he doesn't want to sink his teeth into you, to bite hard and draw blood. “I thought that you deserve someone who isn't me. Someone who's not broken. 'm broken, and 'm afraid I'll never return to who I was before.”

You reach up to touch his cheek tenderly, head placed on his lap, cradling your body just like he did under your oak tree. “You are not as broken as you think you are. Not to me, never. You are everything to me, Hobie Brown.” You hug him, for you have no idea how to tell him that you know he can't be ‘fixed’, that there's nothing to be fixed. That even if there was, you'd break yourself, break every muscle and bone in your body, tore it limb from limb so you'd be broken together. That you'll fit right in where his jagged edges lie just like before. But you know you don't have to, because you're just as broken as he is.

"Is there still room left in there for me?" You poke his chest right where his heart is.

His yearning has taken a form in you, it has your face, and it has your voice. You are love incarnate.

"Always. you've never left.” He says softly, words that are only for your ears. You nod, smiling, tilting your head up as he leans down. “Let's go home, love.” He wants to carve out your name in his heart, but he'll settle for the next best thing— etching your lips upon his own.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

So S/O is in the army right? Well after four years of dating, S/O is called away from the skelies to go to another country with no exact date of when they'd be coming back. S/O sends a postcard every month to let them know they're okay.

How would the skelies, MT sans and MF sans react to coming home from work and opening the door, only to have S/O give them a hug and say "Guess who's back?"

Undertale Sans - He's barely awake and honestly think he is still dreaming, so he's not reacting much when you're taking him in your arms. It's only when he realises you are really touching him that he gasps in shock and hugs back. He is so happy.

Undertale Papyrus - "NYEEEEEEEEEEEEEH????" You get the googly eyes of bewilderment. Papyrus drops a huge box he was holding which crashes on the ground in a broken glass sound and he's running to hug you. He's already telling everything that happened while you were not here, all in one breath, and it's just feel nice to hear him again.

Underswap Sans - You're surprising him at work. He's doing a night shift at the police station for Christmas, since everyone has someone except him, since his brother has a partner now, and he is quite sad, looking at the emptiness filling some paperwork. When you enter the room, he suddenly throws all the papers in the air and jumps in your arms, shrieking with excitement. He's not letting you go. Also, his boss gives him authorisation to leave because he knew S/O was coming and S/O had prepared Christmas on their own just for him. Blue is almost crying now.

Underswap Papyrus - Once he's done being in shock, he straight up cries like a baby. Knowing you are far away and might potentially never come back is a big thing to bear for a skeleton which is usually very close from his S/O and he is just relieved and happy everytime he gets to see you again. He won't let you go for the rest of the week.

Underfell Sans - "Ya're shitting me" His grins widens as he jumps into your arms to kiss you. Red is so relieved you're finally back. He's not really good on his own. His only regret is that he didn't have time to clean the house and it's pretty much a warfield of trash. Woops.

Underfell Papyrus - He knows something is not right. There's light in the house, and he lives alone, and it can't be Doomfanger. He growls menacingly. Does one of his idiot rival try to sneak on him again? He takes a bone and enters the house on his gards. When you jump from the living room entry, he shrieks, lots of red bones flying all around him ready to pin you to the wall. Then he recognises you and everything disappear as he's trying to get his composure back. "OBVIOUSLY I KNEW YOU WERE THERE. THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS WOULD NEVER BE SURPRISED BY SUCH CHILDISH JAPPERY." Of course. There's a moment of silence. "SO ARE YOU GOING TO HUG ME OR ARE YOU JUST PLANNING STANDING THERE?" His cheeks are so red. You can't stop teasing him all week about this. He hates it.

Horrortale Sans - When you're not here, Oak adopts the lone wolf style, half in the house, half in the woods. So before coming, you told Willow to lock him up in the house. You can hear him argue with his brother about this in the kitchen, but it stops right away when you enters the room. Oak's red eye do this :

oAnd then he starts to purr so loudly the entire house is vibrating. It's not powerful enough to be an earthquake, but god, it's the loudest you never heard him do that. As you are expecting, Oak is locking you straight into his hoodie and he will be clingy for at least several days. He's never letting you go again (for at least several days).

Horrortale Papyrus - He thought Oak was just doing something bad in the kitchen and stomps angrily, but then he saw you and... "NYOO HOO HOO HOO HOO HOOOOOOOOO". Oh boy. Willow is overwhelmed and collapses in your arms in tears. You're not sure how many time he said he is happy to see you, you lost the count after thirty times.

Swapfell Sans - "I SWEAR TO ASGORE, RUS IF YOU FORGOT TO FRICKING SWITCH OFF THE FRICKING LIGHTS AGAIN I'M GOING TO BREAK ALL OF YOUR BO-" He stops in the living-room, speechless. He takes a few moments to acknowledge you're here again, then he quickly comes to hug you, then stands back and goes back to his usual cold self. You can't stop smiling. You never thought he would loose his cool like that.

Swapfell Papyrus - You find him very focus on something. When you knock of the door, he jumps out of his bones and quickly closes his hoodie, then turns towards you. Rus looks trapped and very uncomfortable. You're looking at him, wary. "Rus, what were you doing?" "n-nothing?" "Ruuuuus...?" He gulps. Then he opens his hoodie and a dozen rubber chickens falls down on the ground. He looks like a guilty child. You're still confused about what he was planning, but fine.

Mafiatale Sans - So... Since you were not home, he kinda brought a guy here to interview him, and when you're entering the room, your boyfriend is facing a naked human, tied in what you think is a very erotic pose and you're in shock. Demon is in shock too. "b-babe i swear it's not what it looks like. we're... uh... repeating a theater scene." You lift an eyebrow. Demon is sweating. Well, that's not how you were expecting this to go.

Mafiafell Sans - You froze in the corridor when your hear this : "yeah, ya're the only gi'l of my life. i could burn th'world for ya. here ya can have some of my bacon. you're the light of m'life ya know." You stomps in the room, angry... and finds Fangs sitting in the couch, facing his dog wearing a bib on the other side of the sofa table, while they are sharing a romantic candle McDonalds meal. You're speechless, he's speechless, only the dog is happy to see you. Fangs won't even cross your eyes. He's so embarrassed omg.

[aquariusshadow]

Live!Blogging Legacies s4x6

aight lets see what this week's ep has in store

lesssss go

-

5 seconds in and i already fell back in love with hope mikaelson

ooooooooo cleope scene

nevermind everyone's there

daaang thats some video game levels of shockwaves

so

this isnt real right

this is some sort of mind dive thing?

cuz there's no way all o

HOLY FUCK

THERE WENT THE HEAD

yea ok this isn't real

.......

yup

ok

i was right i was right i was right

are we in class now

what class is this???

ethan: *turns invisible for the billionth time*

MG: yep that's my boy...

"The secrets of Alaric Saltzman" okay

omfg i forgot about landon/malilandon? and ted in limbo

ooooooooo finch and cleo scene

this is a cute scene i like it

omfg the smiley face

that thing's creepy

uh

clarke

family

two weeks

sorry my mind just kinda

went blank at this

CLARKEY

OH MY GOD

CLARKEY

also her hair oh my god

i love hope's facial expressions in that scene

hey hey hey it's not his fault he can't have dairy

doesn't mean his stomach is "fragile"

lmaooooo

i related way to hard to that im sorry hahaha

uh who tf is that

ok ig we aren't finding out yet

oh my gooooooooood "ryan...baby...come back to bed..."

hope you're killing me

SHE JUST YEETED HIS PHONE

jdhfladjlhfasdf

"wade. you're dead. walk it off"

ok so who is this british sir

cmon yall i need a name

british!chad?

oscar

there we go

a name

i...honestly really don't care

daaaaaaaaang lizzie okay

if lizzie does become a heretic she's gonna be so powerful

im getting strong gay vibes with tedxoscar and now im vibing

caaaaaaaaaaaan you feeeeeeeeeeel the looooooooooove tonight

so help me

i really can't help but feel so bad for lizzie

like obviously she shouldnt be doing this

but

idk empathy man :(

daaaaang cleo

good job

so was that the white oak stake or something brand new?

didn't tvd say that the first emotion that comes back is anger? and legit last episode hope showed serious signs of being genuinely angry?

im just sayin

clarke has a point

hmmmm im gonna assume trudy was just showing normal signs of excessive curiousity on this particular topic

cuz who could blame her for wanting to know everything...right?.......

"when your sister's around there's no room for you to be messed up" *sideeyes dark josie*

like ok to a point i agree with finch

but

we literally spent a whole season with dark josie because of dark josie not because of lizzie

idk maybe my memory is scuffy here

well hi alaric

--

No thoughts head empty just Tribrid!Hope. 

Fr tho...I don’t have a lot to say either? I’m just feeling particularly empathetic to Lizzie and I ended up really enjoying Hope’s dynamic with Clarke.

I wonder when things are gonna hit that peak again ahaha

Oh also....TedxOscar rights.

[lasting-inkpressions]

Burning Up [1/4]

Summary: When she applied to be the secretary for managing partner Rosé McCorkell, Denali hadn't expected to end up working for the biggest pain in her ass, nor did she expect anything beyond a professional relationship.

Word Count: 4,365

Note: Originally titled "Work Wives".

Prefer reading it on AO3?

Denali stood in front of the familiar panelled wooden door, a brown leather folio clutched to her chest and a fresh cup of coffee in her right hand. She was dressed in a cream sleeveless blouse and a black pencil skirt finished off with nude heels. She stared hard at the frosted glass with a name embossed in gold lettering across it.

Rosé McCorkell, one of the three managing partners in S. Child, a top law firm in New York City. She was also a major pain in Denali’s ass for all of the six months that she had been here as her secretary.

Steeling herself for her usual morning meeting with her, Denali took a deep breath, knocked on the door and waited. Seconds later, she heard the usual clicking of stiletto heels on hardwood floor before the door opened to reveal the woman that was her boss.

As much as she was a pain in the ass, Rosé McCorkell was undoubtedly a stunning woman. Standing tall in her black heels, she wore her auburn hair in perfect curls, dressed in a form fitting navy power suit with the blouse unbuttoned just low enough that Denali could see the deep curve of her cleavage. Catching herself before she stared for too long, she snapped her gaze back up to Rosé’s face and plastered on a smile, hoping that the other woman hadn’t noticed her staring.

“Good morning, Miss McCorkell, I’m here to go over your schedule for the day.”

Rosé stared back at Denali for a moment, causing the younger woman to squirm a little under her gaze, before deep red lips stretched into her trademark smirk.

The same smirk that drove Denali absolutely crazy for reasons she didn’t want to think too deeply into.

“Of course you are, come in.”

———

7 months ago.

Denali sat outside the interview room, waiting for her turn to go in. She was surrounded by other young candidates, each of them looking well groomed, neat and manicured. Most of them were in blazers, suits, the whole shebang and here Denali was dressed in a simple white blouse and black dress pants, her blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail with black pumps on her feet.

She hadn’t really thought too much about it when she had come across the ad and applied for the position. She just needed a job after graduating from college, but now she wasn’t too sure on whether she had made a mistake applying to be the secretary of a managing partner at S. Child. Denali had thought it would be an easy job. After all, a secretary just needed to be organised and have a good head on their shoulders, right? She hadn’t thought it would be a challenge, but looking around her now, with so many tense faces and how the place screamed money, she felt like she was out of her depth.

Maybe it wasn’t too late to duck out…

“Miss Denali Foxx.”

Denali cursed under her breath for not noticing that the previous interviewee had already left the room. She stood and walked to the door, feeling the eyes of the other candidates eyeing her outfit in disdain. Bracing herself, she knocked on the door and waited for a second before entering, coming face to face with three women seated behind a lacquered wooden conference table. Denali took note of each one as she sat in the lone chair before them.

From the website she had briefly scrolled through, she could recognise the three managing partners - Jan Sport was on the left, followed by Lagoona Bloo in the middle and Rosé McCorkell, the managing partner that she was applying to be the secretary of, on the right. From what she had gathered, all three of them were charismatic, intelligent and ruthless in their own rights when in the courtroom.

Lagoona opened a manila folder, cleared her throat and smiled warmly at the blonde in front of her. “Good afternoon Miss Foxx, thank you for taking the time to come down for this interview.” Denali smiled back at her, feeling a little more at ease at how friendly Lagoona seemed.

“Good afternoon, and thank you for having me.”

Lagoona nodded and introduced the three of them, then began the interview by asking her questions, with Jan interjecting a few herself. Denali had managed to answer most of them confidently, only ever stumbling once. All the while Rosé, the one who would decide whether she would be hired or not, had remained silent, simply choosing to flip through the thin file that held Denali’s details, barely even sparing her a glance.

After about ten minutes of back and forth, Lagoona asked her final question, then turned to look at Rosé.

“I think that’s about it from us. Do you have any questions for her, Rosé?”

Denali gulped, trying not to let her nerves get the best of her as the other woman finally looked up at her, folding her hands and resting her chin on them. After a few excruciating seconds, Rosé leaned back in her seat, eyes still trained on the blonde woman before finally speaking.

“Yes, why should I hire you out of everyone out there? From what I’ve read in your file, you seem to be the most inexperienced out of all the candidates. Were you hoping to somehow find a sugar daddy here? I mean you clearly have the looks for it.”

There was pin drop silence at her question. Lagoona had her face buried in her hands and Jan was struggling between wanting to laugh and wanting to strangle Rosé. Denali however sat stone still as Rosé stared down at her, her expression bored as she waited for the blonde to reply.

Denali’s mind was blank for a second before rage filled her veins.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

Resisting the urge to slap the woman in front of her, Denali reigned it in and instead plastered on the sweetest smile she could muster.

“Well as inexperienced as I am, I can guarantee that if you hire me, you wouldn’t be hiring a cookie cutter suck up that wouldn’t be able to look past designer labels or waste their time trying to be someone they’re not. I can also guarantee that you wouldn’t be hiring a pushover who would go crying to their mother when the job gets tough, and knows that their worth is much more than just a few flimsy pieces of paper that won’t tell you the things that really matter.”

Denali stood, smoothing the wrinkles in her skirt before looking Rosé in the eye.

“And the statement about me wanting a sugar daddy? I’d rather a sugar mommy than a sugar daddy, though from what I see, there aren’t any worth my time here anyways.”

Figuring that the interview was a lost cause, Denali nodded her thanks to a stunned Lagoona and laughing Jan, completely ignoring Rosé, and turned on her heel to leave when she was stopped by two words.

“You’re hired.”

———

Present day.

Grinding her teeth as she glared at the desk in front of her, Denali had to tell herself to calm down as the source of her irritation smirked in her direction. If there was one thing that Denali could not stand, it was Rosé’s way of constantly pushing her buttons. Oh, there was no denying that the woman was good at her job, but the way she seemed to ooze confidence and acted as if she owned the damn place? God, that just made Denali’s blood boil.

“Is something the matter, Nali?”

Denali clenched her fist at the sound of Rosé's nick name for her. It was as if the older woman knew that it riled her up whenever she called her that. Looking up at Rosé, Denali bit back an insult and instead forced herself to smile at her. “No, Miss McCorkell, nothing’s the matter at all. Everything is perfectly fine.”

Staring down at the defiant younger woman for a moment from across her desk, Rosé winked at her. “If you say so, baby.”

Denali gripped the pen in her hand tightly. She breathed through her nose, mentally counting down the seconds till their meeting was over and done with as she wrote down every point that Rosé had said. Quickly going over her notes one last time, she looked back up at Rosé. “Is there anything else, Miss McCorkell?”

“Rosé.”

Denali blinked.

“What?”

“My name. I’ve told you to call me that from the beginning.” Denali rolled her eyes internally as she shuffled the loose sheets of paper into a neater pile. “And as I’ve said before, I’m much more comfortable calling you Miss McCorkell.” She heard Rosé’s low chuckle and the sound of fabric shifting. Denali looked up and immediately dropped her pen.

Rosé was suddenly much closer to her than before, leaning against the solid oak desk between them, an almost predatory look in her eye as she watched the younger girl seated in front of her.

“I wonder why.”

———

“So have you and Miss McCorkell fucked yet?”

Denali glared at Kandy as she walked back to her desk. She threw her pen at the girl and missed as it clattered to the floor, leaving the other girl cackling. “No bitch, and that’s never going to happen. What the fuck even makes you think that?” Kandy sat on the edge of Denali’s desk, a shit eating grin on her face. “Besides the fact that every time you leave her office, your face is always so flustered-“

“Because she always pisses me off-“

“-it’s also the way she stares at your ass, like she can’t wait to get her hands on it.” Denali rolled her eyes and retrieved her pen from the floor. “No, she doesn’t. I’ve never seen her look at my ass before.” And Denali was pretty sure that she would have noticed that, seeing as she’d been Rosé’s secretary for a while now. Plopping herself in her office chair, she opened her folio and started to go through her notes, pulling out a stack of colourful post-it’s from her drawer to help with her organisation. Not to be ignored, Kandy carried on as if the other girl wasn’t trying to ignore her.

“Girl, you don’t exactly have eyes on the back of your head, do you? Trust me, she wants to tap that.”

Denali resisted the urge to strangle the Latina sitting on her desk. Sure, there was always some tension in the room when they were together, but that was more from the fact that Rosé loved riling her up. It had been that way since day one, and sometimes Denali questioned her decision to have accepted the job offer, but the money and benefits were too good to pass up for a fresh grad. She shook her head as she replied dismissively.

“Even if she does, I’m not interested.”

Kandy looked at her in disbelief, one brow cocked. “Are you sure? She’s got a great pair of tits.” Well, she couldn’t argue with that. Denali had noticed Rosé’s ample breasts seeing as the managing partner loved to wear outfits that featured them in a daring, yet tasteful, fashion. If she had met Rosé in a bar, she would definitely have approached her.

Of course, she wasn’t going to tell Kandy that.

“Look, no matter how great her tits are, it’ll never make up for the mouth that she has on her.”

Kandy tutted, picking at her nails. “I’m pretty sure her mouth would be preoccupied when the two of you-“

“KANDY!”

“I’m just saying.”

Denali sighed, rubbing her forehead. God, this conversation was giving her a headache and digging at thoughts she had been trying to avoid herself.

“Listen Kandy, if there is one thing that I would never ever do, it is to sleep with my boss-“

“Denali-“

“I don’t care if she’s staring at my ass, I don’t care what she thinks of it-“

“Girl-“

“Me fucking Rosé McCorkell is never going to happen.”

“Well, as enlightening as this conversation is, it might be a little inappropriate to discuss my preferences in the office, don’t you think?”

She froze at the familiar voice behind her as Kandy quietly excused herself.

Shit.

“Cat got your tongue, Miss Foxx?”

Fucking shit.

Denali slowly stood and turned to look at her boss, who had an amused expression on her face and a file in hand.

“I believe that you left this document behind in my office.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Denali moved to retrieve the file from Rosé, trying her best to regain her composure.

“Right, yes- Let me photocopy this for you right away, Miss McCorkell.”

Rosé smirked and leaned in, her lips almost brushing against Denali’s ear.

“Strictly off the record, I do think you have a very nice ass.”

Face flushing a bright red and rendered speechless for a moment as Rosé pulled away, Denali stammered out an excuse before speeding off to the copy room, leaving behind a chuckling Rosé in her wake.

———

Denali was waiting alone for the lift at the end of the day, tapping her foot on the floor as she watched the numbers on the screen climb higher and higher.

It had been a long day, and she was still trying to recover from the embarrassing situation that had happened in the morning. She had spent the whole day actively avoiding her boss, something that wasn’t too difficult to do since she had a long list of tasks from her. Every time she had to drop something off at the older woman’s office, she made it a point to do so when she knew she was out for a meeting or when she was engaged in a call so that Rosé wouldn’t be able to say a word to her.

If she had the opportunity, Denali knew that the managing partner would say something to further humiliate or incite her.

Also, the statement that Rosé had made about her ass was still fresh and in the forefront of her mind, and something Denali had completely not expected. She knew that the two of them butted heads all the time, and that Rosé loved to challenge her secretary and pass along little comments and nicknames just to get a rise out of her. She had suspected that was the main reason that Rosé had hired her, because she was someone who fought back, but that comment about her ass? That had blindsided her.

She didn’t want to admit it, but everything Rosé did and said had an effect on her, and had been for some time now, but that was something that was entirely inappropriate.

Denali shifted her weight, watching the numbers get closer to the floor she was on when she heard the faint clicking of stilettos behind her and shut her eyes, praying to whoever was listening that the person approaching wasn’t who she thought it was, or that the elevator would arrive just before she did. Thankfully, the latter happened as the lift doors opened and Denali quickly stepped into the empty cab, immediately pressing the close button while pointedly making sure not to look up. She let out the breath that she had been unknowingly holding in as the doors slid closed, but her relief was short lived when the doors slid opened again, revealing the very same woman that she had been hoping not to see.

Fuck.

Nodding in greeting, she stepped to the side to give Rosé space, and also to put as much space as possible between the two of them. Rosé nodded back, and stood next to Denali, facing the doors as they closed and the lift slowly descended.

“So where has my little secretary been hiding the whole day?”

Denali’s hand twitched at her side. “I’ve been at my desk the entire day, Miss McCorkell, completing the tasks that you assigned me to do.”

“Is that so? So the little mouse that was scurrying in and out of my office wasn’t you?”

Swallowing a retort, Denali replied with as steady a voice as she could. “I don’t know what you mean, Miss McCorkell.”

Rosé turned her head, an eyebrow raised as she looked down at the squirming girl. Before she could say anything, the lift dinged and a group of people entered, forcing the two of them to take a step back. Denali breathed through her nose, then noticed how close Rosé was to her now in the confined space, so close she could smell the expensive Chanel No. 5 perfume that she loved to wear. Her heart was racing, and she wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe it was the fact that Rosé was now standing close to her, or the fact that her words were replaying over and over in her mind.

Denali stilled when she felt a finger touching the back of hand. She looked down to see a perfectly manicured finger lazily tracing her knuckles before looking up at the owner of the hand, and felt all the air in her lungs escape.

Rosé was staring down at her, eyes a molten hazel and lips curved into that same infuriating smirk that drove Denali insane. She felt the other woman’s fingers slowly slip to the palm of her hand, the light touch causing heat to pool in Denali’s middle and her breath to shorten, and all the while Rosé never took her eyes off her. The younger girl swallowed and bit her lip, noting how the older woman’s heated gaze fell to her throat and then her lips, her palm tingling as Rosé continued to trace patterns on the sensitive skin of her palm.

Seconds later, their little bubble was broken when the lift dinged and people started to shuffle out. Rosé withdrew her hand, and made to leave too, but not before whispering in Denali’s ear.

“Never say never.”

Winking at the frozen girl, Rosé exited the lift, her hips swaying with each step as she left the building.

Denali was fucked.

———

The dynamics of their relationship had changed since that day. Rosé didn’t try as hard as before to get a rise out of Denali anymore. Before it seemed like she was aiming to piss her secretary off, but now it was the opposite. It was as if she was repeatedly trying to fluster her, dropping little teasing comments, purposely brushing their fingers together when passing Denali things, constantly staring intently at her with a knowing smirk on her face. It was slowly driving Denali insane.

She could handle it when Rosé was trying to piss her off, but this? This was completely different and she didn’t know how to handle this kind of attention from her. Denali always found herself blushing to her roots and stammering in response to these new interactions, which seemed to further amuse and encourage the redhead. With each interaction, Denali also found herself questioning everything.

Why was Rosé acting the way that she did?

Was she bored and simply wanted to find something to entertain her?

Was she just toying around with Denali and her emotions?

Sighing as she filled the cup of tea for Rosé’s potential new client, she shook the thoughts out of her head and walked back to the meeting room where he was waiting. Pasting on a polite smile, she pushed the glass door open and set the cup of tea on the table before a greasy looking man that looked as if he was in his late forties.

“Here’s your tea, Mister Tate.” The man smiled back at Denali, taking the cup of tea and sipping from it, all the while giving Denali a once over, much to her discomfort. Putting the cup down, he made a face. “Oh dear, there’s no sugar in this at all, is there?”

Denali blinked. He hadn’t mentioned any sugar earlier, and she had assumed that he wouldn’t need any. “My apologies, Mister Tate, let me get a fresh cup for you.” Reaching over to take back the cup, she was stopped when he grabbed onto her wrist, a sly smile on his face. “There’s no need to bother, it’s fine. After all, I have a sweet, pretty girl like you to entertain me while we wait for Miss McCorkell to arrive.”

Not another one of these men again. Forcing herself not to drop her smile, Denali replied in a tight voice. “Thank you for the compliment, Mr Tate.” She tried to politely tug her hand back to disengage his grip on her wrist, but before she knew it, he was on his feet, an arm slung over her shoulders.

“Mister Tate? No need for formalities, just call me Jim. After all, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around more often now.” Her stomach rolled at the pointed look he had in his eye, the widening smile on his face making him look even greasier. She knew his type and the implications behind his words, and had to force herself to hold in her disgust. As much as she wanted to knee him in the balls, she couldn’t do that here in the office, especially since he was a potential client of Rosé’s.

Swallowing the bile that was rising in her throat, Denali struggled to maintain being civil as she attempted to step out of his grip.

“Mister Tate, if you would kindly please let go of me, I-”

“Come now, Miss Foxx was it? Where’s your sense of hospitality? You forgot the sugar for my tea, but you look like you’ll make up for it-“

“What is going on here?”

The blonde felt a sheer sense of relief flood her when she saw the managing partner standing in the doorway of the meeting room, though the furious look in her eye was something unexpected.

Denali had never seen her this angry before.

The man however seemed completely oblivious to the rising anger of the other woman, and instead smiled at her. “Miss McCorkell! I was just getting acquainted with your lovely secretary here.”

Rosé glared at the man. “Mister Tate, I believe that my secretary doesn’t like your arm around her, and unless you’d like to lose that arm, I suggest that you take it off her.” Looking surprised, the man listened and took his arm off Denali, and she moved away, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire. Her eyes darted between the two as he stammered. “Miss McCorkell, we’re all adults here. I’m just having a bit of fun. Isn’t that why you keep her around? She sure is a stunner-”

Big mistake.

Rosé took a threatening step towards him, fists clenched and eyes glinting with unbridled rage at what he was implying.

“Get out.”

He gaped. “I- I beg your pardon?”

Rosé sneered, looking down at the now pale and shaking man.

“You heard me, you daft man, get out! I don’t need scum like you in my office, and I certainly don’t need your money. Now get out before I call security!”

Gaping like a fish out of water and scrambling to leave, the greasy man grabbed his bag and hurriedly left the office without looking back as Rosé kept her eyes pinned on his retreating back before turning back to face to her secretary. Denali gulped, and instinctively made to apologise, but was stopped when the older woman moved towards her and gently took her by the shoulders, examining her. “Denali, are you alright?” She asked, sliding her hands down and stopping to hold her wrists, rubbing soothing circles into her skin.

Denali hadn’t noticed, but she was shaking, and Rosé’s motions were slowly calming her down. Taking a shaky breath, Denali smiled weakly at her. “I’m fine, Miss McCorkell. Thank you for stepping in when you did.”

Rosé nodded. “Of course, how could I not? But are you sure you’re alright? Do you want to take the rest of the afternoon off?” Denali laughed drily, waving off the offer. “It’s alright, I’m fine now. It’s nothing that I’m not used to.” Rosé’s thumbs stopped moving and she frowned at Denali.

“What do you mean?” Denali blinked. Maybe she shouldn’t have said that.

“I mean I’ve had my fair share of creeps before-“ She explained with a fake laugh, trying to lighten the mood when she saw Rosé’s face darkening.

That wasn’t good.

“You mean here? In my office?”

“Well, er-“ Rosé stepped closer into Denali’s space, raising a hand to cup her face as she stared into the younger’s eyes, voice low as she demanded. “The truth please.” Denali swallowed, feeling the slightly murderous intent that the other woman was exuding, which contradicted the gentle hold that she had on Denali. Hesitantly, Denali nodded.

“..yes.”

Rosé clenched her jaw, taking a second to process what Denali had confirmed, before stepping back and letting go of her secretary. Denali could see that her hands were clenched into fists that Rosé quickly stuffed into the pockets of her suit when she noticed Denali looking at them, as if wanting to hide how she was trying to not lose her temper.

“I want their names.”

Denali frowned, confused. “Wha- Why?”

“So I can tear up their contracts. Anyone who touches you is not worth my time.” Denali’s eyes widened. This sounded like a rash decision, and she didn’t want to cost Rosé or the company money. Breaking contracts meant loss of income, which wasn’t worth it. Not when it was just a simple matter of harassment that she should be able to handle herself. “But Miss McCorkell, it’s not worth it, I can-“

Rosé shot Denali a sharp look at that, cutting her off. “No buts. I want their names on my desk by the end of the day.” Denali swallowed and nodded stiffly as Rosé held her gaze, eyes hardened before softening as she sighed. The managing partner turned to leave, but stopped at the doorway to give her one last meaningful look.

“Denali, don’t ever think that you’re not worth it.”

And she left, leaving behind a wide eyed and blushing Denali staring after her.

———

I have been hung up on the idea of writing a fic with a flirty boss Rosé and feisty secretary Denali. The sexual tension just writes itself.

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. (:

xoxo Vera