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pasteljeon · 5 years ago

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Blood Bound (m)

Summary: Tragedy brought you home. Love made you stay. Despite all odds, Namjoon has always been yours.

Werewolf!AU

Pairing: Namjoon/Reader

Warnings: werewolf au, fluff, mild angst, heat sex, breeding kink, namjoon has a big cock ana oop, size kink, mating, brief mention of death

Length: 7.1k

Notes: after almost a year in the making, it’s finally here!! i worked really hard on it so sdjskd please let me know what you think !! <3

There’s a wolf staring at you.

It’s misty. Wisps of fog curl around your wrist, skin pricking as the tendrils dissolve, droplets sliding from your fingertips to soak into the underlay of moss coating the ground.

There is no path here, only one worn through years of treading and the same footsteps sinking into rich soil. Only its eyes are visible, a deep amber hue peering from the thick smog, its body veiled by the equivalent shade.

Its gaze is unyielding, intense yet soft. Unmoving.

“Momma! Mommy, he’s hurting!”

The bundle of fur cradled in your small arms lay in silence, chest barely rising and falling unsteadily as rivets of crimson liquid stained his smoky coat alarmingly fast.

You waddled your way clumsily to the house, your mother stumbling out to the backyard in a panic at your yell with a first aid kit.

“Bring him here,” she beckoned. You placed him down gently, trying your best to keep from jostling him too much, lest the wounds were irritated. Your mother set to work immediately, clearing a work station on the patio tables.

You sniffled, watching as she cleans his injuries. “Is he going to be okay?”

“It’s hard to say, sweetheart. His cuts aren’t too deep, but there is still a chance for infection. We must act quickly.”

You ran to find your father, who’d been napping on the couch. It was a Sunday, the clinic closed and void of any patients.

“Dad! Daddy, come help! There’s a doggy and he’s really hurt! Mommy says she needs the – the t-tweasers?” You fumbled with the word, tentatively testing it out. He groaned, rolling from the sofa as he rubbed his neck. “A dog?” He yawned as he dug around the medical cabinet. He ruffled your hair as he passed, smiling fondly at the anxious look on your face.

“Your mom and I are going to help him, so don’t worry that little head of yours too much, okay?” You nodded, hot on his heels as he stepped out.

You clutched your skirt nervously, restless as you tried to focus on the book you were reading. The pictures failed to cheer you up as they usually did, and you closed it to take another look at the creature sleeping on the counter. Your father had carefully set him into a basket padded with cushioning and pulled a thin blanket of linen over his body. It was summer, warm enough so he wouldn’t need much more to keep comfortable.

It had been hours since they cleaned and dressed his wounds. A particularly long gash ran down his tummy, and your lips had quivered at the sight. The long rays of evening sun casted shadows, your stubborn insistence to take vigil over the puppy lasting until your mother came out again with some lemonade and sandwiches.

“Come inside, sweetie,” she said sympathetically. “He’s not going to get better just by you staring at him. The worst has passed. He’ll need a few weeks to heal fully.”

“Can he sleep with me?” You asked. She chuckled. It was against their policy to allow patients in their own rooms, but she could see how troubled you were. “Sure, baby.”

It took months before the puppy was strong enough to walk. Even then, he limped awkwardly, the abrasion on his calf closing slowly. Half a year passed swiftly, and he grew strong enough to run and jump. Your attachment to him was growing by the day. He seemed just as enamoured by you, never straying too far from your side, pulling at your leg to play with him or snoozing on your lap. He liked licking your cheek, and barked softly whenever he saw a mouse scurrying in the overgrowth.

“Ghost!” His ears perked, tail wagging as he trotted to you. You laughed as he leapt into your arms, sending the two of you sprawling onto the grass.

Just as a year slipped by, so did he.

“Ghost? Ghost!” Your sobs bubbled up, tears clouding your vision as you searched for him, knees scraped and dirty. Your mother put a hand over your shoulder, coaxing you up.

You turned around, giving the yard one last sweep as she led you back in. You wept.

He was gone.

You blink, and the memory fades. Your return your attention to the pair of golden eyes, but they’ve already disappeared.

The cottage is cold. A delicate layer of dust has already collected over the furniture. Picture frames litter the mantle, a family portrait over the centre top. Setting your luggage aside, you shrug off your coat and rummage for cleaning materials underneath the sink. Tossing wood into the fireplace, you start with the timber figurines lining the living room. Your father’s handiwork, for your mother. For every anniversary.

It’s dark when you finish. You think you’ve cried at least thrice as you pack away your mother’s jewellery.

Scrubbing the remains of grime from your body, you settle into your childhood room for the first time in fifteen years. Staring out the window, it’s hard to find sleep. There’s much grief swirling within you, and little means of coping. But you like it here, and you’ve missed it. Your friends had offered to accompany you, to which you declined. This was something you needed to do alone.

Saying goodbye has always been the hardest part, after all.

You dream of him. Ghost, darting through the forest. He’s bigger, now twice your size. You’re older, too. 13, maybe.

He’s as playful as you remember, stopping to sniff every undergrowth and occasionally scratch at a tree. You follow him, tugged by something inexplicable. He leads you to a meadow, a quiet space privy to nothing but your breathing and the gentle whispers of wind. The tiny glen is moonlight dappled, with fireflies flickering like stars.

He pads to the centre of the field, waiting for you patiently, tail flicking slowly. He blinks up at you, head cocked, and then lays down, resting his head on his forearms. Come here, he seems to say. So you do.

Tentatively approaching him, he only watches you with sleepy eyes as you gingerly recline on top of his back. He promptly curls around you, tail coming around to rest protectively over your stomach.

Combing through his fur, you smile as he nudges your hand. His tail thumps happily the moment your nails scratch behind his ears, nearly knocking you breathless. He whines softly as an apology, nosing your palm as he peers up at you sorrowfully.

“It’s okay,” you murmur. A content rumble erupts from his muzzle and he ducks his head under your arm so both are now wrapped firmly around his neck.

You don’t say anything after, cheek pressed against his thick pelt, skin warm as you feel his chest rise and fall rhythmically. The two of you watch the stars twinkle in companionable silence for the remainder of the night.

The fire burns strongly as you wake, though the last time you touched it was hours ago. You feel disoriented, nostalgia aching in your heart. Yet, you’re also oddly comforted by the memory of something sweet.

Grabbing your drawstring bag, you pour some silver coins into it, enough for a quick trip to the market for groceries and some material for the dress you’ve been working on the past week.

A hoarse whimper startles you as you step out of the lodge, and you fall to your knees instantly at the sight of the bloodstained bundle of fur strewn next to your entrance, crawling to it quickly. Upon closer inspection, you realize with a sharp exhale that it’s a wolf—male, the very one that you’d glimpsed at your arrival. He’s massive, out shadowing you easily and in obvious pain by the way it’s panting, barely able to lift its head.

“Hey, hey,” you coo. “It’s going to be okay. Let me help you.” He seems eager to trust you, the way he closes his eyes and slumps, like he’s tired of having to guard its six. Hauling a pail of cool water and the med kit, it’s history remade once more as you wash his wounds and stitch them up. He watches you work, quiet even as you disinfect the deep claw marks.

“Got into a fight, didn’t you?” You say absently as you begin rolling the bandages on his torso. He huffs, warm air ruffling your tied locks as he blinks those gold-rimmed orbs forlornly at you.

“I wonder if Ghost is as big as you.” Running a hand lightly over his unmarred neck, he allows you to stroke him gently. Your palm practically sinks into his fur, thick and soft; his silvery pelt a shockingly gossamer sheen. With difficulty, he shifts, nearly toppling you over in the process, but you steady yourself on your knees as he reveals his stomach.

“No,” you breathe. Your blood runs cold, paling as you reach with shaky fingers to touch the thin scar stretching across the soft line of his tummy. “Ghost?” You say, stunned. He whines faintly, ears flattening as if expecting resentment. “You’re a wolf.”

He lowers his head, expression rather doleful as he puffs out another breath. “You’ve grown so much,” you whisper, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. He rolls over, concealing the old wound once more, and paws at the ground at your knees.

“Don’t move so much,” you warn immediately, swiping at your cheeks. You touch his jaw delicately. “I’m not mad, I promise. Just … surprised. In a good way.”

“Can you walk?” Normally you would feel a bit awkward speaking to an entirely different species incapable of similar speech, but the intelligence and wisdom glowing in those tender tawny irises suggest otherwise. He feels familiar, and warm.

He heaves himself up, limping slowly as he shoulders his way through the narrow doorway and staggers onto the centerpiece rug. “Sleep baby,” you murmur, dragging over a thin sheet over him. He watches you with half-lidded eyes, tail swishing leisurely as you move around. “I have to go to the market,” you say as you pour water into a hefty bowl you hauled from the lower cabinets.

Ghost wrinkles his nose at the basin, looking fairly offended as he scowls at the object. “You lost a lot of blood. I know it’s not ideal, but bear with me here,” you say, amused.

He stares at you stubbornly, the thumping against the muffed boards increasing in volume. It takes one glance at those pleading honey-coloured orbs of his for you to cave.

“It’s okay,” you say with a dramatic sigh. “I didn’t really want to go anyway.” If wolves could grin, you imagine that’s what it would look like. Ghost’s lips pull back, sharp canines glinting in the firelight as his tongue rolls out excitedly. “You really are just like a dog,” you giggle. “But bigger.”

He barks, just once, in defiance. You laugh again, lugging a spare coverlet next to him for a makeshift bed. You lean up to kiss the tip of his nose gently. “Rest up, baby.”

His every exhale ruffles your locks, and his tail stills as you close your eyes.

The first rays of light peek from the horizon just as you rouse at dawn, having slept unexpectedly peacefully. Your nightmares seem to have ceased momentarily, and your mind is clearer than it has been for a long time now. You muse it likely has something to do with Ghost’s presence being a wordless comfort.

Ghost heals much quicker than you’d thought possible. When you peel away the gauze, fully prepared to clean and rebind his wounds, med kit sprawled at your side, you find the cut is no more than a fresh layer of skin.

“How …?” You stroke the tender patch cautiously, testing the depth of damage, but Ghost nuzzles your arm, seemingly unbothered. Examining the area, you realize his fur has also grown back to full. It’s disorienting, like the injury never occurred in the first place.

“Are you well enough to join me?” You ask as you rise to your feet and pull on a clean shirt. The wolf follows, shaking himself out before padding toward the door and taking a seat at the entrance, golden eyes patient as he waits silently.

With a giggle, you scratch under his chin in appreciation, his tail nearly dislodging the flooring beneath him in its intensity. He leans against you heavily when you reach the spot behind his ear, tongue loose as he pants.

“Found your weak spot, huh,” you tease. Ghost lets out a faint whine but remains lifeless against you save for the furious wagging of his tail. “So cute.”

He whimpers when you release him reluctantly. “I’ve gotta change and eat something quickly, and then we can go, okay?”

He huffs and straightens again, struggling to cast the drowsiness from his pelt, managing to look much more alert when he sits up once more.

When the sun is at its peak and you’ve showered, feeling a little more refreshed, and finished the small snack of grapes and apples you’d brought along for your journey, you sling your bag over your shoulder and the two of you set out to the market.

This village is home.

And you’re reminded of it with every step you take into the crowded streets, the cheerful calls of merchandise and a wide assortment of edible goods from foreign lands set up in colourful arrays of stalls, the kind smiles flashed in every direction. You breathe in the familiar scents of traded spice and homemade concoctions alike.

Their gazes are strangely intimate, and you know it is because of the label you wear with the shape of your lips and structure of your cheekbones. You’d left so young, but your family had stayed. For them, this village was everything.

And they remember.

It’s not as painful as you thought it would be. The recognition and quiet sympathy don’t suffocate you like you anticipated. Instead, you feel warm. Ghost is pressed tightly by your side, and the sight of a Grey wolf should both alarm and frighten, but this is no ordinary town. Hidden in the mountains and protected by fog and legend, magic is whispered through generations of bloodlines.

“Hello, dear,” a merchant says. “Interested in some silk threads?” She’s old, deep crinkles at the edge of her eyes as she beams up at you. Still so lively, despite her age and deteriorating body. You like her.

“Hello,” you say shyly. “Would you have any spider silk on hand, by any chance?”

The trader brightens. “Of course! One moment.” Disappearing behind artistically beaded curtains, you wait patiently at the side, one hand absently scratching Ghost behind his ears as you peruse the charms and accessories on display.

“Princess. It’s so very good to see you again.” Startled, your fingers still, head raising slowly. Your companion seems to sense your uneasiness and nuzzles your palm as if to reassure you the newcomer is of no immediate threat.

“I’m sorry,” you say, puzzled. “Do I know you?”

He grins. “You don’t remember? I’m hurt. I thought we’d be friends forever. Granted, I was 6 at the time, but we had so much fun.”

Ebony-dark hair, plush lips, eyes that slit into crescent moons when he smiled. A silver chain rests at the dip of the dangerously low v of his cotton tee. Wrists adorned with more silver, as well as several rings.

“J-Jimin?” You blink, stunned. “Oh my God. It’s been so long.” He pulls you into him the instant you’re on your feet.

“I know. You look as beautiful as ever,” he says fondly when you pull back. “We’ve missed you. Why didn’t you ever write?”

You avoid the thinly veiled curiosity in his look, hands sliding down his arms to grip his elbows. Ghost presses himself closer, pushing his head onto your upper thigh as he lets out a quiet huff. “You’re so handsome now, Chimmy. You’ve grown up so well. I see you’ve been running with the pack. Beta, right? Mother told me.”

Jimin takes your hands gently. “Noona, it’s just me.”

You stare at his chest, tracing the dark ink that flaring across his ivory skin absently.

“Princess, please.” He tips your chin up, amber orbs soft and unguarded as he pleads. They can’t. They can’t.

“I can’t.” You close your eyes. “Please, Jimin. Don’t ask.”

“It’s safe here. You know that, right? We would never let anything happen to you,” he says tightly.

“I know,” you draw away, resting your hand on Ghost’s massive head lightly. “That’s not what I’m worried about, Jiminie. No one wants to talk about it because they trust you, but the treaty needs to be renegotiated before the blood moon rises.”

“Then come back,” Jimin insists, stepping closer. Your companion rumbles, though remains immobile.

You take a breath. “It’s not that easy.”

“He’s your mate.”

“Not by choice. He doesn’t really want me. I’m a means to an end, Jimin,” you exhale tiredly. “I always have been. It’s why I left. At least for a little while, I could pretend my life could be something more than just destiny.”

“___, please. You know what happens if the full moon comes and goes and you don’t bond with him. The treaty will end. The bloodline … it’s what keeps this place alive.” He’s imploring you, sympathetic but resolute.

“I don’t want this,” you say in a small voice. “He deserves to be happy, too.”

“What makes you think you wouldn’t make him?” It makes you pause for a moment, surprise flickering, and Jimin smiles wryly.

“Give this a chance, noona,” he says. “You are more suited for each other than you think. Fate is not a fool. You were chosen for a reason.”

From his pocket, he opens your palm, dropping the item and closing your fingers over it firmly. “Give him a chance. He might just be everything you never knew you needed.”

“Sorry for the delay, dear!” You jerk at the sound, slipping the object in your bag before turning on your heel. The merchant makes her way over, waving a roll of thin silk in her hand.

“It was in the back shelves. My assistant being mischievous again,” she explains, chuckling. You manage a polite smile. If she catches your sudden change of mood, she doesn’t comment, simply going about wrapping your goods cheerfully.

When you glance back, Jimin’s gone.

Ghost whines. You nod. “Thank you. How much?”

It’s quiet.

A cool breeze ruffles your locks, the lawn freshly mowed. Morning dew sparkles from the afternoon glow, the sound of grass and the odd leaf crumpling beneath your shoes.

Ghost is silent as he pads next to you, steps light despite the sheer mass of his body. He’s keeping close to you, the extraordinary heat emanating from him a wordless comfort against the chill settling deep in your bones.

You stop.

You exhale shakily, bending to gently set the bouquet at the foot of the grave.

Ghost sweeps the area behind you with his tail, brushing away debris and droplets. You crack a tiny smile at the very humanlike gesture, rubbing his ears in gratitude before taking a seat.

He wraps himself around you, circling twice before settling, resting his chin on his forepaws.

You lean into him, and Ghost whimpers lowly, nudging you.

With a watery sigh, you bury your face in his fur, sobs muffled by the density and his tail curls around your stomach, a reassuring weight.

You cry until you’re empty and all that’s left is you and him.

The skies are pink when you leave.

The sun peeks from over the horizon, dipping low. Your gait is slow, the mental exhaustion pulling on your physical form heavily.

Ghost trots beside you, echoing your steps, but pushes before you to stop at the foot of the entrance.

His head cocks to the side, golden eyes impossibly wise yet tender.

You scratch under his chin lightly, cracking a smile. “I’ll be okay. You don’t need to worry about me.”

The wolf licks a long stripe up your cheek, nosing your jaw. You kiss the bridge of his nose.

“Thank you.”

Ghost weaves himself effortlessly back into your life.

He stays with you, guards you. Sleeps at the foot of your bed, keeping you grounded on nights sleep escaped you.

He’s there when the nightmares threaten to consume you, gently pawing at you, barking quietly. Your anguish was powerful, but Ghost never baulked.

Eventually the dreams faded. Your grief, like a storm, passed. The sorrow lessened, and breathing became easier.

Princess, still whispered but less so. With the White Wolf guarding your back, they wonder why you’re trying to run. No one prods, but you know they wonder.

The days continue to slip by peacefully. Despite this, you know time is ticking. The deadline is drawing near and you’re terrified.

You know they’re going to try to find you.

He’s going to try to find you.

And you have no idea what to do.

Your next trip to the market, the sweet farmer you’ve been building a steady friendship with is absent.

“He’s out sick,” her replacement explains. She’s youthful, likely around your age. She’s beautiful, with long cerulean hair and cold green eyes, an uncommon set of characteristics found in your village. She’s not from here.

Ghost is tense beside you, ears flattened. She leers at him subtly. Your skin prickles at her smile.

Your lips quirk and you buy one bushel of strawberries from her.

“Meat?” You ask instead, glancing down at him. Ghost blinks.

Idly, you wonder if her presence here means any threat.

It’s not your place for concern, you remind yourself. Because it isn’t.

Not yet, anyway.

The season is turning when he comes.

You wake to a warm, hard body pressed against you.

He’s gorgeous, with silky silver hair and a chiselled jaw line. Asleep, the broad expanse of his bare chest rises and falls rhythmically, an arm resting over your stomach.

In one swift maneuver, you flip him over, pressing the blade against his neck. “Where. Is. Ghost.”

He doesn’t flinch, eyes fluttering open to reveal beautiful molten gold irises. “Namjoon,” he says. “I’m sorry I lied to you.” His voice is deep, rumbly. Like velvet.

He shifts, hands up placidly when you push the blade harder in warning. You let him pull the sheets down to reveal his naked abdomen, where a long, healed laceration sits.

You falter, knife slipping from your grasp. He catches it easily, setting it to the side. His piercing gaze never drifts.

You get off him, move to your wardrobe. Throw him some old clothes. Your father’s, likely to be a bit loose on him. You hear him fumbling with them, mattress creaking as he stands.

You remain silent as you pull a shawl over yourself.

“You’re angry.”

He’s behind you, that supernatural heat radiating off him warming you despite your inner turmoil. Worry seeps into his tone.

He reaches for your hand, but you step away quickly. “Don’t touch me,” you say. Hiding your trembling fingers buried in your elbows.

“Please don’t push me away. I’m sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t know how else to—to approach you. To see beyond the labels.” Desperation. Frustration. “Please, Princess.”

“Don’t call me that,” you say automatically. Your feet lead you to the kitchen. To start your morning routine. Pulling out ingredients, striking a match to start the stove.

“Princ—___. Please. I—I was wrong, I know. I just—I wanted to be here for you. This was the only way you would ever let me in.” He follows you. Like a puppy, like he’s always done. All his life.

“When I was gone—did you ever—did you ever try with anyone else?” You ask bluntly, turning around to meet his gauge his reaction.

He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling. “Yes—yes, I tried. That’s what you wanted all along, right? But it doesn’t work. All I could think about was you. Even—even with my ruts. Nothing worked, nothing helped. I suffered, ___. It was torture being without you, all these years.”

“Not for me,” you say matter-of-factly before returning to your task. You concentrate on chopping onions to avoid the sound of his heart dropping to his stomach. You’re a fucking sadist, you tell yourself grimly. All you’ve ever done is hurt him. Even though he deserves the world.

“And … and you? Did you … did you—try?” He’s hesitant. He doesn’t really want an answer, but he wants to know. He wants to pretend the knowledge of his won’t kill him.

“Yes, and it works for me. I can’t feel the bond,” you say. “I’m not one of you, remember? All human, one hundred percent of the time.”

He thinks he’s going to kneel over with how powerful the pain crashing over him feels. It almost cripples him, but he also knows—

“You’re lying.”

You stop. “No, I’m not.” The cutting resumes.

“You’re cooking for me. Historically, females have accepted the mating bond through a demonstration of food,” he says casually.

You stare at the plates.

The table is set for two.

The atmosphere is tense, the silence broken only by the occasional clink of silverware.

“___—”

“Namjoon, please.” You drop the fork you’re holding. “I don’t want to talk about this. There’s no discussion. I never wanted this, and I never will. End of story. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to find someone else.”

“There is no one else. I don’t think you understand. We can only choose once. That’s it. And my wolf chose you. I chose you.” He sounds like he’s choking up, voice caught in his throat. “I’m not asking for a definite answer. I just want you to try. I know you can feel the bond between us. I can hear your heart. It’s fluttering.” Like a hummingbird in your rib cage, eager to take flight, he wants to say. He is not good at wooing, has never needed to before. He has wanted, before, despite his position, personality, looks, everything. Despite all that he is, he has never wanted anything more than what he is, and yet here he sits, begging you to take all that he can be for a mere chance.

“Have you ever thought maybe, just maybe, all of this wasn’t your choice? That we’re simply meant to be because of destiny?” You say bitterly. The bigger part of you wants to say yes, yes, all I’ve ever wanted to say is yes, but what if all of this is a mistake, what if I can’t be the one you need, what if—

“I don’t care,” he says fiercely. “I want you. I know I want you. Every fibre of my being needs you. Close to me, always. You spirit, your soul. It calls to mine.”

“You don’t even know me,” you shoot back. Weaker. His eyes gleam.

“But I want to,” he insists. “I want to know everything about you. I already know your heart. It is gentle and kind and giving and that is enough for me. Please. I can be good for you, I promise.”

Your chair screeches loudly as you stand, half-finished plate in hand. Your hunger eludes you again.

He watches you warily.

You take a breath.

“The first time—why did you go?” Voice timid. Scared. –Because you’re nothing, you were never anything, can never be anything and—

“To keep you safe.” He’s firm. You risk a glance. His eyes are honest. He’s never lied to you before. Until now.

You cover your forgotten meal with a cloth.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He perks up, disbelief and excitement sparkling. He can hardly dare to believe. Finally, finally—

“Yes. But slow. I don’t know—I still don’t know if I’m ready for this,” you say, leaning against the counter as you turn.

He rushes over, nearly tripping over the leg of the table, exhilarated and ecstatic.

“Yes—yes. Of course.” He skids to a stop, hands hovering near you, remembering the lines as he begins to withdraw, looking embarrassed at his childish enthusiasm.

“Kiss me.” You dare. He flushes. “I—I do not think that’s slow, exactly—”

“Namjoon.”

He cups your cheek gingerly, palms so large they engulf your entire face, dipping his head. You say his name again, breath sweet as it ghosts across his lips.

Kisses you softly.

You grip his shirt, swallowing his moan when his lips crash over yours again, dragging his tongue over your seam.

He parts your mouth easily, devours you, one hand braced around your waist where he crowds you against the marble counter.

Then you make a noise.

Namjoon groans, reluctantly tearing himself away, the movement sluggish and impossibly difficult given the way his body refuses to unglue itself from you.

He buries his face in your neck, suckling your skin tenderly.

“Slowly,” he rasps.

Your breathing is laboured and you nod against his chest, dazed. “Yeah.”

“I see you took my advice.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be patrolling tonight?” You raise an eyebrow, not bothering to throw him a look as you continue patting in the soil. You know he’s sporting his signature smug grin.

“This is patrolling. It’s part of my route.” You hum, determined to engage in as little talk as possible. It’s already enough mortification to walk through the village with the tall, handsome leader by your side, with the knowing smiles and fond congratulations. You know they mean well, and this is a big deal, but—it’s a lot to take in. You’ve never enjoyed being the centre of attention. And now you’re exactly that.

“Jimin, don’t you have somewhere else to be?” Namjoon’s voice cuts in, annoyed.

The Beta pouts. “Way to ruin my fun, Joonie.”

“Jimin.” The warning tone has him sighing.

“Okay, okay. I’ll leave you lovebirds be, but remember! I get to name your first pup,” he calls as he jogs off.

“I hate him,” Namjoon says flatly, watching him leave with his arms crossed.

“No, you love him. He’s just being nosy because he cares about you,” you correct, smiling as you stretch. Dropping a kiss on his cheek, you tug him inside. “It’s time for dinner.”

Namjoon trails after you, glowing.

He never discusses pack business with you.

He knows this relationship you’ve been building together is still preliminary, still just a trial run. It’s going well—so well, in fact, that he’s terrified something will happen that’ll flip all of it on its head. Things usually do, because he attracts disaster. He always has.

He’s never been happier. He feels at peace with you, content and bursting at the seams with every word, every smile, every touch.

His wolf is quiet, tamed at your very presence. Basking in your attention.

He’s just—so whole.

So it’s only natural, he supposes, that he’s the one that destroys it.

It’s ironic that it’s raining.

You can hardly tell if it’s your tears or the rain that blurs your vision.

It doesn’t matter much, you think, as you stare at the scene of Namjoon kissing someone else.

Not just someone else—the girl from the stall. The one with blue hair and bright eyes.

Prettier. Smarter. Everything. Liar.

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” Your basket is dropped, somewhere, lost. Where should you go?

“___, please! I didn’t kiss her, she’s set this up so you’d reject me—so I’d have no choice but to go to her, but I won’t!” He’s loud, frantic, following you again.

A door, a door, your door. You fumble with the key.

“I don’t care. I don’t care,” you chant, teeth chattering. Cold. You’re soaked to the bone.

“I love you,” he breaks, a sob catching. His voice is strangled, throaty. “I love you. Please believe me. I don’t—I can’t do this life without you. Please. Don’t leave. Don’t leave.”

“Leave, Namjoon. I never want to see your face again. I hate you,” you say hollowly.

“You don’t mean that. You don’t mean that. Say you don’t mean that. Please. Please,” he repeats, crying earnestly now. He looks so small, clothes clinging to him, expression fearful and miserable. Hunched into himself. Reaching out for you.

“Stay away from me,” you grit. The lock clicks. His eyes widen, panicked. “No—no, no, no, no! Don’t—don’t shut me out, don’t do this, please, please, please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

You slide to the ground, shivers wracking your body as you listen to him sob on the other side of the door.

Time loses meaning, the water from your clothes creating a puddle as you sit there, huddled.

He doesn’t stop whispering apologies until Jimin comes to collect him an hour later, dragging him away as he fights. You can hear him shouting and struggling, but Jimin’s firm, hauling him away.

When all that’s left is the quiet patter of rain on your rooftop, their voices fading into silence, you get up and draw yourself a bath.

He’s so weak. You make him weak. His role as the pack leader, his senses, rationale, everything flies out the window when it comes to you. Everything he’s built the past decade, the person he’s become.

“Jimin, I fucked up,” he says wretchedly. The empty crater is growing, expanding each second he’s away from you. His wolf howls, the anguish too raw for him to bear much longer.

“You need to prep for your rut,” his Beta says instead. Jimin paces restlessly, rubbing his temples as he watches Namjoon bury his face in his hands. He’s never seen their leader so broken, it terrifies him.

“I—I need to see her,” Namjoon says suddenly, standing abruptly. Jimin rushes to the door, blocking the entrance.

“Now is not the time,” Jimin warns. “You’re entering your pre-rut. You could hurt her. She’s not ready.”

Namjoon sucks in a shuddery sigh. And then, “Jungkook.”

A beat.

“Yeah, hyung?”

“Set up the chains. And have Yoongi stand guard. Make sure I don’t get out,” Namjoon orders.

Jungkook meets Jimin’s gaze briefly. The Beta nods and he disappears from the room.

Namjoon collapses back in his seat, staring down at his hands silently.

The group looks at him worriedly. Jimin merely shakes his head, lips pursed. They’ve never seen their leader look so defeated before.

“It’s fine. It’ll be fine. They’ll talk it out and she’ll understand. She’s just hurting right now,” Jimin says.

But his tone wavers, uncertainty seeping in. He doesn’t know.

You wake to the sounds of someone pounding at your door.

The moon is high, your camisole thin and your exhaustion wearing thin.

“Jimin, why are you—” Rubbing your eyes, you pull it open, only to be shoved into an overheating body. You let out a surprised gasp, stumbling back as you struggle to support the weight.

“Wha—Namjoon? What are you—what are you doing here? Why are you so warm?” He’s burning up, feverish. Your palm meets bare skin, sweat coating his chest. Half-naked and delirious, Namjoon slurs, “I—I have to … apologize. Can’t lose you, not like—like this, she did this, I don’t want her, I don’t care about her. I need you. I need you. Princess … Princess, come home.”

“Are you—are you sick?” You nearly topple over as he crumples on your bed, silver locks plastered to his forehead. Something tinkles, and you pale at the sight of broken chains around his wrists.

“You’re ignoring … ignoring me. Don’t, please,” he pants, sitting up with difficulty. He rakes a hand through his hair, eyes bright but hazy, golden irises a mere thin ring. It’s so hard to … to talk, to think with this heat running through his veins.

“Namjoon …”

“I know—I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not true! I didn’t kiss her back, I pushed her away, I—I—I—” he’s babbling, he’s losing it and you grab his face.

“I know,” you say simply. Namjoon closes his eyes, sagging in your hold as relief floods through him, the deliria fading momentarily.

“I know. I just … it hurt. I thought—maybe I was right. That your feelings for me aren’t real, that you’re just … settling.” He frowns, shaking his head rapidly as he takes your hands. “No, no that’s not true. I’ve always loved you, since we met, since we were kids.”

“As Ghost, I … I saw your compassion, your humanity,” he rasps. “I didn’t mean to chase you away. I didn’t even know what my feelings for you would entail back then.”

“No … I was being stupid. I was scared,” your gaze drops. “I’m sorry. I should’ve waited to hear you out. I was just afraid that you’d only wanted me out of convenience.”

“___. I love you. I want to know you, if you’d let me,” he says shyly. He’s flushed, the heat bleeding back, but he can’t lose focus.

“Complete the treaty, then,” you say breathlessly. You don’t want to run anymore. For once, you want to face your fate head-on. You step back, pulling your top off in one fluid motion.

Namjoon freezes, wide-eyed. “You … you don’t know what you’re saying. What that means,” he croaks. He leans back, struggling to breathe.

Your core clenches at the sight of him, silver hair raked back, muscles taut and rippling beneath smooth caramel skin. He’s beautiful.

“Are you sure? You know what happens after, right? You’ll become my Luna, the Pack’s Princess … are you sure you want this?” He’s still holding himself back, likely by his sheer will at this point. Ruts are powerful, even more so when he’s the Alpha.

“Yes,” you say, straddling him. His hands feel so large where they come to rest at your hips, squeezing gently.

With him, you feel safe.

“I want you … I’ve been waiting for you, all this time. I want you to be my mate. To be mine.” You can feel his length, hard and throbbing, beneath his slacks. His kind has always been well-endowed, and you can feel his tip nudging at your centre.

“Take me, then,” you whisper, nosing his jaw. Namjoon groans, hold tightening before he slams you against the mattress.

“You drive me crazy,” he growls, ripping your panties off impatiently with his teeth. Shoving down his jeans, he wastes no time aligning himself. You’re already so wet, and he preps you easily, sliding two fingers in and scissoring you gingerly. Your spine locks, the pleasure flooding your system like a forgotten drug.

You gasp his name and he nips at your throat, violet flowers blooming with every touch.

“Wanna breed you, make you mine, fill you to the brim with my seed,” he moans, hips jerking as he enters you, the feeling of your walls clenching around him sends his head spinning.

“N-Namjoon,” you mewl, clawing at his back helplessly as he punctures every word with a thrust. He sets a punishing pace, already edged and desperate. Having you splayed out like this, so ethereal and so wholly his, awakens something primal, darker. His wolf demands to be unchained.

“I can’t think, can’t focus on anything but fucking you senseless and knocking you up with a litter of my pup,” his voice is guttural, so deep you know it’s not quite the man you’ve gotten to know the past few weeks.

“Hello, Luna,” he drawls. His eyes are flecked with silver, lips curled into a lazy smirk. The other side of the same coin.

“Ghost,” you murmur, smiling. You reach up to stroke his cheek, and he nuzzles your palm, turning to kiss it gently.

His touch is sweeter, loving. The frenzy is lost for the moment, the heat and the need dissipating as he licks into your mouth eagerly. He exhales, cock twitching inside of you as he fucks into you slowly.

“With this vow, we are bound. In sickness and in health, to protect and to cherish. Let the moon be our witness,” he breathes, dragging his fangs over the delicate skin of your neck.

You hold him close as he marks you, lapping at your blood as you cry out softly.

Forevermore, he wants to say, but he refrains because though it’s part of the vow, it’s still too early, too much.

For now, this is enough.

You lose track of time after that. They switch periodically, taking turns fucking you into oblivion before waking you with their mouth on your breast, suckling hard as their fingers tease your clit. Between the sheets, they learn to worship every crevice of your body, how to make you sing and sigh and moan so beautifully.

You take breaks only to drink water and to feed each other pieces of fruit and bread. Showers become pointless after he takes you against the wall twice before falling back onto the bed for a third and fourth.

It’s dawn when he’s finally burned through most of his rut.

“Who was that girl?” Namjoon hums, fingers sliding through your locks as you trace figures on his bare chest absently.

You’re exhausted but glowing, and he can’t stop smiling.

“From a neighbouring pack. They wanted me to choose her instead, to solidify an alliance. We already had one, they were just being greedy. She knew about you and tried to sabotage me. Don’t worry, I had Jin take care of it,” he kisses your nose. “You know I only want you, right?”

You nod, cheeks colouring.

“It’s only ever been you.”

“And the bell?”

Jimin grins, twirling the spatula in his hand. “It’s the one Joon gave to you the first night he met you. He didn’t just pick it up out of nowhere, you know. It’s like a family heirloom. Only his mate can wield it and only he can hear it.”

“Where’d you find it? I thought I lost it when I moved.” The bell sways silently where it dangles from the red string.

“You didn’t,” he says simply, flipping the pancake.

“Huh.”

“___! Princess, are you okay?” Namjoon comes barrelling through the door, skidding to a stop in front of you with wide, panicked eyes.

“Jimin,” you say slowly. “Just how sensitive is this bell?”

“I wouldn’t use it. Like, ever, unless you’re about to die or you want those flaming hot cheetos when you’re carrying,” Jimin answers matter-of-factly.

Namjoon’s still fussing over you and you sigh.

“I fucking hate you, Park.”

#bangtansmutcentral #ksmutclub #namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon imagines #btsguild #networkbangtan #hyunglinenetwork #bts #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #werewolf au #werewolf!namjoon

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professorkenobi · 4 years ago

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midnight visitor

read the previous part here and the next part here!

Obi-Wan couldn’t sleep.

He tried to tell himself it was the intermittent claps of thunder, or the rattling hail on the roof, that was keeping him awake long after he’d turned the light off.

But really, his mind was on the boy.

He rolled over again, blinking into the dark.

Was Anakin safe?

He’d claimed he had a place to go, and Obi-Wan hoped that he’d been telling the truth and not simply placating him. The thought of Anakin hunkered down in someone else’s flooded backyard, bracing himself against the whips of freezing rain...

Clink-clink-clink-CLUNK

Was that… a knock?

He held his breath and strained to listen. Clunk-clunk. Yes, interspersed with the wind and rain and hail was the barely-perceptible sound of raps at his door.

He threw off the sheets and pulled on a sweater and slippers just as fast.

By the time he made it down the stairs the knocks had grown weaker, trailing off, but there was no denying someone was knocking at his front door in the middle of a storm.

He wrenched the door open and gasped at the sight before him.

It was Anakin, like he knew it would be. Water-logged and shivering, with smears of something dark mixing in with the sheen of moisture on his face.

“Can I…?”

Obi-Wan beckoned him in before he even had the words out. He couldn’t stand another second of watching Anakin shake, caved in on himself in a paltry attempt to shield from the rain. “Come in. Please.”

Anakin stepped inside and Obi-Wan shut the door behind him, muffling the howl of the wind.

“I’m sorry about your floor—”

“Don’t be.” He didn’t give a damn about the rug, not with Anakin standing in his foyer, shivering and out of breath with what looked to be blood on his face and the gleam of terror in his eyes. “Are you alright?”

“I’m…”

Anakin jumped at the growl of a car speeding past, loud and obnoxious enough that it must have been missing a muffler. His ears twitched and swiveled, following the noise until it faded into the distance.

“Anakin?”

“I’m—” Anakin looked him up and down and his eyes widened in horror. “I’m so sorry, you were in bed, I shouldn’t have—”

“Nonsense, it’s perfectly alright. Come on in, you can leave your shoes by the door.”

Obi-Wan winced at his own authoritative tone. The last thing he wanted was to frighten Anakin yet again, drive him back into the storm. But his guest only nodded dully, kicking off ratty sneakers and staring down at the slowly growing wet spot on the rug.

“The kitchen is this way. Let’s get you warmed up and we can figure out what else I can do for you.”

Anakin allowed himself to be led through the house, seemingly having no trouble moving through the dark.

In the kitchen, Obi-Wan flipped on the overheads, blinking owlishly in the bright light.

“Have a seat.” He indicated the island. “I’ll go get you some towels and— ...oh, my.”

It was more than a little blood on Anakin’s face. The rain must have washed away most of it, or he’d surely be absolutely covered. A long, clean gash marred his features, bisecting the right eyebrow and continuing down an oversharp cheekbone. Even as Obi-Wan watched, more blood oozed from it in slow pulses, shocking crimson dripping down Anakin’s chin to seep into the sodden fabric of his hoodie.

His visitor caught his stare and frowned. “What?”

“Your,” Obi-Wan gestured helplessly. “Your face.”

“What about it?” Anakin brought a hand absently to his cheek and stared down at his reddened fingers. “Oh. I’m bleeding.”

“Bleeding? You’re practically carved open! Forget towels, I need to take you to the hospital!”

“No!” Anakin blurted out. “No hospital.”

Obi-Wan froze, having already rushed to pick up his car keys. The boy’s eyes were wide and panicked, his pupils mere pinpricks under the bright lights.

He shut his eyes for a moment, then did his best to pitch his response low and soothing. “Is insurance a problem? Because I’ll happily take care of whatever—”

“It’s not that.” Anakin shook his head. “I mean, well, it is, but it’s not just... I just can’t, okay?”

“But—”

“Please.”

Maybe it was the look in Anakin’s eyes, perhaps the desperate edge to his voice— something, whatever it was, made all of Obi-Wan’s arguments die in his throat.

“Alright.” He set the keys down, instead reaching for the roll of paper towels and tearing off enough for a thick wad. “Use these to catch the worst of it and I’ll...” What would he do? “I suppose I’ll do what I can to take care of you here.”

Anakin mutely accepted the bundle and pressed it to his face. That would have to be assurance enough that he’d keep a few moments without Obi-Wan’s supervision.

“I need to get a few things. Just— just stay there, alright?”

He rushed upstairs, turning on every light as he went. Somehow he doubted he’d be getting much sleep tonight.

Part of him expected Anakin to slip away again the moment his back was turned. But when he re-entered the kitchen, armed with a first aid kit and a heaping armful of towels, his visitor was exactly where he’d left him.

He made a pitiful sight, gaze downcast and ears drooping. He’d taken Obi-Wan’s instructions so literally that he hadn’t even bothered to sit down. His tail brushed lifelessly against the tile floor.

Obi-Wan pulled out a stool and covered it with a towel. “Come here and I’ll take a look. Please.”

Anakin sat down with a wince and a hand pressed to his side. Wide eyes darted to Obi-Wan warily as he did, as though he was bracing for a reprimand.

As soon as Anakin was settled, Obi-Wan unfolded another towel and draped it over his shoulders. He knew Anakin must still be cold to the bone and a towel would do little to warm him up, but it was better than nothing while Obi-Wan saw to the more pressing issue of his eye.

“Thanks.” Anakin clutched the ends of the towel closed with his free hand and tentatively offered up the freshly bloodied wad of paper towels with the other. “Um, here.”

“Thank you.” Obi-Wan set them on the counter and went about pulling out his supplies. The last time he’d had to fix up a cut like this had been a rather embarrassing incident with his gardening shears—but that didn’t come close to the deep gash on Anakin’s face.

He appraised it carefully. The blood was finally starting to clot, drying in patches on his skin, but the cut was still a vicious red, angry and raw.

He’d barely started to wipe at the dried blood with a wet cotton round when Anakin flinched away, hissing at him.

Obi-Wan blinked. “I’m—”

“Sorry! Sorry,” Anakin snapped, then screwed his eyes shut, his lips a white line of tension. When he opened them again, his voice was slightly softer. “Just… sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Obi-Wan murmured, bringing his hand back up more slowly. “Let’s try again.”

Anakin didn’t pull back this time, and offered no protest but a tiny whimper at the sting of disinfectant in the wound. His eyes were puffy and red-rimmed, the contrast making the deep blue of the irises seem even more striking.

Obi-Wan busied himself gathering more supplies before his patient could catch him staring.

He did his best to close the wound with what he had. Without stitches it would surely scar, but this would have to be enough. Murmured reassurances fell from his lips all the while, for whose benefit he wasn’t sure.

He taped a final piece of gauze over Anakin’s eyebrow and pulled back. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No, I’m fine—”

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” he repeated, more firmly this time.

Anakin still wouldn’t look at him directly. “Um, my hands. It’s nothing though.”

“Let me see.”

He took one of Anakin’s hands between his own. The palm was scraped near-bloody, smeared with dirt and flecks of gravel. As he cleaned the scratches, his eyes caught on those sharp nails, the same nails that had peeled a clementine so efficiently all those days ago.

Some residue was caught beneath their points. Obi-Wan wiped at it, and it came away flaky and rust-red.

Blood. Someone else’s, surely.

He couldn’t stifle the sharp intake of breath. Anakin flinched, again, going tense all over.

Always so afraid...

Something flared hot and furious in Obi-Wan’s chest. He reached out without thinking, cupping Anakin’s face with both hands this time. Anakin’s eyes went wide with alarm but he didn’t pull away. The boy stayed still, except for a slight tremble in his jaw that Obi-Wan could feel under his palms.

“Anakin.” He wiped his thumb as gently as he could over the bandage, but he couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice. “Did someone do this to you?”

Anakin’s ears flattened to his skull in response, brushing Obi-Wan’s fingers. It took him a second too long to answer. “No. It was an accident.”

Tell me, he wanted to say. How can I protect you if I don’t know what’s going on? But after seconds stretched on in silence, Obi-Wan reluctantly dropped his hands.

For a fleeting moment, he thought he felt Anakin leaning forward to chase his touch. Then he blinked, and the boy was leaning away and avoiding his eyes as usual.

He must have imagined it.

Unanswered questions hung heavy in the air between them as Obi-Wan quietly cleaned the rest of the scrapes. By the time he’d finished, Anakin had begun shivering again beneath his towel.

“If you’d like, you could use my shower to clean up and get warm.” He frowned at the gauze he’d just so carefully taped down. “Or maybe I should draw you a bath. We want to keep that bandage dry.”

Surprise flashed across Anakin’s face, but then he nodded, his ears even perking up at the prospect. “Yeah. A bath sounds nice.”

#stray catboy au #obikin

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stripeymilk · 6 years ago

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Grow Room vs Grow Tents

I'm certain you are energized at developing your own plants and might want to respond to the call. There are a great deal of items accessible in the market that can help you in this undertaking. In spite of the fact that there are several gear, a standout amongst the most significant instruments that you have to develop plants is a spot to develop them in.

There are a ton of decisions for lodging your plants, yet two of the most well-known ones that individuals investigate are a develop tent or a develop room. Give us a chance to investigate both these alternatives and analyze their disparities and likenesses.

Develop System for Your Needs

What one has to know when they are choosing whether to set up a develop tent or a develop room is that each room in a house is unique in relation to the others. The measure of dampness and daylight that each room gets is extraordinary as is the progression of air.

Rooms on the west side normally get more daylight than those confronting east. Rooms amidst the house get less air than the ones as an afterthought. In addition, the individuals who live in northern zones have extraordinary winters, which can negatively affect the development of plants. This is the reason a protected room would be required and a develop tent won't almost certainly give the fundamental protection. The littlest develop tent available are the 2×2 develop tents.

Accordingly, the choice lays on the atmosphere you live in and the sort of room you could devote to the errand.

Effect of the Grow System on Your House

The issues won't be as terrible in the event that you possess your home. In any case, you would need to be somewhat vigilant in the event that you are leasing your home. You can't do anything without the consent of the house proprietor, so authorization ought to be taken first before doing any changes.

This is on the grounds that when a develop room is set up, the room needs to experience a great deal of changes, however on the off chance that you have leased a house, you ought not to make every one of those progressions without getting consent. Regardless of whether you get the authorization to begin developing your plants inside, it would be a vastly improved choice to go with a develop tent as it would not be excessively nosy and it is better not to make a great deal of changes in a leased house.

A develop tent accompanies enough space to store all your hardware. You won't need to penetrate openings in the room's dividers or roofs. A develop tent is likewise generally waterproof, making it ok for developing plants inside without making much damage the house. Subsequently, it's simpler and more secure to get a develop tent as opposed to retrofitting the room.

Size of the Garden and Its Function

Space is a standout amongst the most significant interesting points while choosing on the off chance that you need to have a develop tent or develop room. On the off chance that you have an extra room where you can begin developing, you ought to take the plunge. This can occur on the off chance that you live in a multi-room condo. Be that as it may, in the event that you do not have this additional room, you can't work with a develop room. Indeed, even an enormous 10×10 develop tent would not work for you.

You would likewise need to take a gander at the foundation of your home in the event that you will go with a develop room. You would need to consider the sort of protection accessible in that specific room. Additionally, sufficient windows should be available in the room with the goal that appropriate ventilation is accessible. Every one of these things and more would need to be viewed as when a develop room is being picked. On the off chance that these things are not considered appropriately, you get an opportunity of all your diligent work going down the channel.

This implies a grow tent is a decent decision on the off chance that you don't have any of these instruments. A develop tent gives you the opportunity of developing plants anyplace. Then again, you would most likely get a higher yield however would clearly require somewhat more exertion.

Materials Used

The sum and kind of material required are a standout amongst the most significant things with regards to picking a develop room or develop tent. One of the professionals of having a develop tent is that all the gear is in a similar spot and no extra hardware is required as everything accompanies the tent. This implies you will have a decent feeling of how much your spending limit ought to be.

Then again, in the event that you go for a grow room, you may find that the crude material is generally less expensive yet would require some diligent work and work to get the protection, lighting, vents and so forth set up as they don't accompany the room.

#Grow tents #grow tent kit #best grow lights #led grow lights amazon

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animasheon · 6 years ago

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What is better: Organic Growing or Organic Nutrients

Each living creature and this incorporates plants, requires supplements. Supplements (manures) for growing cannabis can be inorganic (artificially fabricated) or they can be natural. Possibly you have heard either cannabis cultivator discussing their natural grow. No inquiry, there is a lot of discussion going on among cultivators which approach to grow cannabis (natural or utilizing synthetics) would be ideal, yet every one of the strategies can have their advantages and downsides.

WHAT DOES " GROWING ORGANICALLY" MEAN?

Essentially spoken, growing naturally means growing in soil with everything that is utilized for your grow being gotten from living things. No artificially made mixes, for example, concoction salts or inorganic pesticides are utilized in the developing procedure.

WHAT ARE ORGANIC NUTRIENTS?

Natural supplements for cannabis are those kinds of supplements that are made of or originate from living "natural" sources like plants or creature squander. Some different substances, for instance, mineral shake residue or gypsum can likewise be alluded to as natural composts.

WHAT ARE THE BENEFITS OR ORGANIC NUTRIENTS FOR GROWING CANNABIS?

There are a few advantages of utilizing natural supplements for growing. When contrasted with compound composts, natural supplements are typically slower discharging which means there is to a lesser degree a possibility for overloading and supplement copy. This can make natural supplements more secure to utilize, particularly for individuals who are new to cannabis growing.

Natural supplements beneficially affect microorganisms that are living in your dirt, which thusly advantage your plants' development.

Since natural supplements are produced using normal substances, they additionally will, in general, be inexhaustible and environmentally practical.

Helpful organics, including development boosting microorganisms, remain in the dirt, so there is less an opportunity of supplement overflow and waste.

At the point when contrasted with encouraging your plants with engineered supplements, when you grow naturally it is generally about improving your dirt and as a consequence of it improving the development and strength of your plants. Some cannabis cultivators who grow naturally find that doing as such upgrades the kind of the last item.

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In like manner, when you grow naturally, your dirt improves after some time. Along these lines, natural becoming is exceptionally appealing to open air cultivators, as it implies you can reuse a similar soil for some, growing seasons.

A few cultivators additionally incline toward growing naturally as it gives them true serenity realizing that they don't depend on synthetics and other counterfeit substances, so they feel more "in order" with nature and the earth. Furthermore, there are no synthetic concoctions to possibly enter your body when the cannabis is expended.

WHAT ARE THE DISADVANTAGES OF ORGANIC NUTRIENTS?

growing cannabis naturally doesn't simply have benefits. As with nearly everything, there are additionally a few disadvantages.

Natural supplements as a rule take more time to be consumed by the plant. The explanation behind this is a natural grow depends on microorganisms that separate supplements and this is a procedure that takes some time. This can make it increasingly troublesome in the event that you recognize a supplement insufficiency, state during blossoming, and need to take care of the issue as fast as could reasonably be expected.

Your natural grow will in enormous parts depend on advantageous microorganisms that live in your dirt. In colder atmospheres, these microorganisms work slower separating supplements. This implies natural supplements can act slower and not as viable in colder temperatures. It makes natural becoming to a lesser degree an exact science and a greater amount of fine art, as it is more earnestly to oversee.

At the point when contrasted with growing utilizing manufactured manures, where your growing medium can be basically clean, natural substances in your dirt can simpler draw in creepy crawlies and irritations - in addition to there can be an expanded shot for hurtful parasites or green growth to show up.

To wrap things up, natural supplements are typically more costly than manufactured (concoction) cannabis supplements.

MANUFACTURED CANNABIS NUTRIENTS

Manufactured (synthetic) supplements contain the minerals that are significant for plant development in a structure right away accessible to your plants. The three most basic minerals for development are nitrogen (N), phosphate (P) and potassium (K). The nitrogen originates from a fake nitrogen obsession process that is called the Haber-Bosch process, which was imagined in the principal half of the twentieth century. The phosphate and the potassium are extricated from minerals, with hurtful debasements expelled.

Business engineered composts are normally made to contain a particular proportion of these three fundamental minerals, assigned by the N-P-K proportion, which represents the level of every mineral that is in the item. Alongside nitrogen, phosphate and potassium in explicit proportions, other advantageous minerals like calcium, magnesium, iron, zinc and others can regularly be found in engineered manure items also.

WHAT ARE THE BENEFITS OF SYNTHETIC CANNABIS NUTRIENTS?

Engineered (synthetic) supplements are typically made with a precise proportion of explicit supplements. This implies the producer has more command over giving the exact measures of supplements that the plants require during their present development arrange. Nitrogen, for instance, is for the most part required in the growing stage while later on, in blossoming, the cannabis plant would require less of it however needs more phosphorus for growing some enormous and sticky buds.

Having the option to correctly include the appropriate measure of supplements can result in greater yields and a higher THC content. It is significant that supplement necessities can change strain to strain and phenotype to phenotype.

Concoction supplements are immediately accessible to your plants when you feed them. A quick admission of minerals and different mixes has it conceivable to affect your plants' wellbeing promptly, a state in the event that you need to address a supplement insufficiency as quick as could be expected under the circumstances.

To wrap things up, engineered plant manures are accessible anyplace, and are regularly a lot less expensive than their natural partners.

WHAT ARE THE DISADVANTAGES OF SYNTHETIC NUTRIENTS?

The way that manufactured supplements for growing cannabis is in a split second accessible to your plants and can, on occasion, likewise be extremely focused builds the hazard for overloading and supplement consume. This can make engineered manures a touch increasingly dangerous for less experienced producers who, on occasion, tend to overload.

Engineered supplements likewise cause salt grow after some time in soil, debasing quality. With poor soil quality comes a higher shot for supplement run-off, which results in supplements being squandered, together with the damage this can cause to nature. Poor soil likewise improves the probability of issues producing for your plant.

Manufactured composts are likewise not produced using inexhaustible assets. A great deal of vitality must be spent on creating nitrogen and different mixes in manufactured manures, and these procedures negatively affect nature.

WHICH ONE TO CHOOSE: ORGANIC NUTRIENTS OR SYNTHETIC CANNABIS NUTRIENTS?

For a long time, cannabis cultivars have been discussing the upsides and downsides of their preferred growing strategy, however what you pick ought to, at last, be something that you pick independent from anyone else and not found on another person's understanding.

#led grow light #best led grow lights #grow tents #grow tent kit #led grow lights amazon

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piikaeart · 6 years ago

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Viparspectra 300W LED Grow Light Specification

Driven grow lights are turning into an inexorably famous decision for individuals growing plants inside. The Viparspectra 300W LED grow light is an amazing bundle, giving incredible esteem and extraordinary execution for indoor nursery workers. I've utilized this light by and by in the course of the most recent a half year and have been exceptionally inspired by the light's presentation and the development of the plants. It's a grow a light that will be most appropriate to apprentices and middle producers yet is an extraordinary choice, to begin with LED grow lights.

LED grow lights are turning into an undeniably well-known decision for individuals growing plants inside. The Viparspectra 300W LED develop light is a noteworthy bundle, giving magnificent esteem and extraordinary execution for indoor nursery workers. I've utilized this light actually in the course of the most recent a half year and have been inspired by the light's exhibition and the development of the plants. It's a best grow light that will be most appropriate to tenderfoots and middle of the road cultivators, however, is an incredible alternative to begin with LED grow lights.

Who Is The Viparspectra 300W Best Suited For?

The Viparspectra 300W LED grow light is a serious little unit, however, is very much furnished with 60 high force 5W LEDs that are appropriate for all phases of plant development. It will suit somebody searching for a broadly useful grow light, and is less fit to a propelled producer with exceptionally specific needs.

The unit is focused at the novice and middle of the road producers and is pitched at an aggressive cost. General criticism of results and unwavering quality has been awesome, and I figure this would be an incredible choice for many individuals.

The principle of individuals who ought to consider this grow light are;

Those with a little or medium sized growing region.

Individuals searching for a decent grow light without spending a fortune.

Individuals growing 2-4 plants at any given moment.

The Viparspectra 300W Is Easily Expandable

I truly like the way this grow light is so effectively expandable. Every unit has a daisy chain outlet, which enables you to utilize the power rope of a second unit, to connect the two together. This grow light is little and intended for amateur and middle clients, however, you can without much of a stretch purchase further lights to extend you grow zone. The daisy chain connector implies you can just module another light and you're ready. It keeps your setup straightforward and you won't have power strings running all over the place.

When contrasting the cost of the Viparspectra 300W, to the bigger models in a similar range, it can in some cases work out less expensive to get two littler units, rather than one bigger unit. This was consoling for me, as I may well grow my setup after some time, and it's decent to realize that I can do this expense successfully.

Reasonable enough, the bigger units have a couple of additional highlights, most eminently separate veg and blossom switches. Without this component, you are in all probability restricting the development and yield capability of your plants, yet I'm glad to keep things basic and reasonable until further notice.

Viparspectra 300w Distance From Plant

When utilizing the Viparspectra 300w with seedlings, try to keep the light somewhat further far from your plants. Around 22-24 inches is immaculate, with 12 hours of light for each day

For the vegetative stage, increment the light length to 18 hours of the day and intend to keep your plants around 20 crawls from the light

For blossoming phases of development, decline light length to 12 hours out of each day, yet bring the light nearer, to somewhere in the range of 15 and 20 inches

This is the thing that I have observed to be the best, yet differs somewhat from what the producer recommends.

Color Of Light From The Viparspectra 300W LED Grow Light

One thing that isn't referenced all the time when individuals talk about LED grow lights is simply the shade of the light. In the event that you are utilized to the crisp white light of fluorescent grow lights or the warm shine of HID lights, the purple tone from many LED grow lights will be somewhat of a change. I'll be straightforward and state this is all in all an off-putting highlight for me.

Beforehand, I used to have my grow zone in a room of my kitchen, however, I truly detested the purple shine radiating from these lights, so I've moved me growing setup to the carport. Without a doubt, numerous individuals won't think about this or will utilize a grow tent or a grow room far from different pieces of your home, yet for me, it is an unmistakable negative. There gives off an impression of being a growing assortment of proof that a wide range of white LEDs are presumably as successful for growing plants than the more usually utilized red-blue range LEDs most ordinarily sold today.

This is likely the main noteworthy factor that may cause me to pick an alternate brand of LED grow light for my next buy, however, I have more research to do. The green daylight organization does some extraordinary wideband LED grow lights, yet the value makes the eyes water a bit.

#led grow light #best led grow lights #grow tents #grow tent kit #best grow lights

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meet-the-decoy · 4 years ago

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Hey Decoy! What exactly is your role on the battle field?

MEET THE DECOY

Description

It isn't hard to see that she is the fairest one on the team. Decoy isn't afraid to use her feminine touch to her advantage and being on a team with mostly men has it's perks. But don't be fooled, this girl isn't as sweet as she looks. She's a babe with quite a bite.

Primary

Stock

- Duel pistols: (ammo 12/36 each)

Craft

- Boxing glove gun: (ammo N/A)

Gives Decoy the ability to punch an opponent with as much force as a Heavy.

- Pole vault: (ammo N/A)

Gives Decoy a 20% boost on acrobatics.

-Mini canon: (ammo 20)

Is similar to Soldier's rocket launcher. Each shot takes several seconds to reload but gives critical damage to enemies. Slows down agility.

Uncrate

- Chainsaw: (ammo N/A)

Gives critical damage at close range. Won't be able to preform acrobatics as a result.

- Bear trap: (ammo N/A)

Traps enemies for several seconds while giving mini crits. Can only be used once every 30 seconds.

- Water pistols: (ammo 100 each)

Counteracts Pyro fires. This weapon extinguishes teammates that are ablaze as well as sapping the enemy Engineer's buildings.

Secondary

Stock

- Hand grenades: (ammo 20)

Craft

- Fireworks: (ammo 20)

This weapon creates flash bangs and blinds the enemy for several seconds and can also light enemies on fire depending on range.

- Taser: (ammo N/A)

Electrifies enemies and paralyzes them for up to 3 seconds. Effects enemies differently. Has a cool down time of 3 seconds.

- Sling shot: (ammo 20)

Let's Decoy launch grenades just as far as a Demoman, letting her throw them farther then she originally could. It can also be used to launch health kits to teammates.

- Water Balloons: (ammo 20)

Extinguishes teammates who are on fire. It also washes way Jarate from teammates who may be covered in it.

Uncrate

- Throwing knives: (ammo 12)

Allows Decoy to trick stab like a Spy but at longer distances. Can be used during acrobatics.

- Playing cards: (ammo 3 decks)

Cards can slice enemies to inflict damage. Cards can be boomeranged back to be reused if thrown correctly.

- Grappling hook: (ammo N/A)

Gives Decoy the ability to get to higher nesting spots with ease. Boosts acrobatics by 5%. Grapple can be shot at enemies to finish off kills.

Melee

Stock

- Bullwhip: (ammo N/A)

Craft

- Chain: (ammo N/A)

Gives critical damage to enemies. Slows down acrobatics by 15% as a result.

- Spider net: (ammo 8)

Bounds enemies for several seconds. This also leaves the enemy vulnerable and more likely to receive critical damage.

- Roller skates: (ammo N/A)

Allows Decoy to match the speed of that of a Scout. Decoy won't be able to preform acrobatics as a result.

- Megaphone: (ammo N/A)

Amplifys Decoy's vocals and lures enemies easier.

Uncrate

- Lipstick: (ammo N/A)

Ables Decoy to give a teammate ÜberCharge for 3 seconds by kissing them. This weapon also restores a teammates health by 50%. Gives critical damage to enemies.

- Mirror: (ammo N/A)

Blinds the enemy for 3 seconds by shining light in the enemy's eyes. This weapon is most effective on Snipers.

- Ribbon wand: (ammo N/A)

Steals 15% of an enemy's ammo. Ammo can be given to other teammates or can be used personally.

- Perfume: (ammo N/A)

Amplifys Decoy's lures. Perfume can also be used to disorient enemies for several seconds. No man can resist the smell of flowers and gunpowder.

PDA

Primary

- Acrobatics

Secondary

- Vocal

Special Taunts

• Song Bird

This taunt makes enemies vision blur whenever they get to close to her singing. This makes the enemy vulnerable and more likely to receive critical hits.

• Damsel in Distress

This taunt gives Decoy the ability to make enemies hurt their own teammates. Every shot that hits a teammate will lower their health depending on distance different variables. Can only be used once every 3 minutes.

• Blowing Kisses

This taunt has the Decoy blow a kiss at the enemy. Whoever the kiss lands on receives critical damage. If the kiss lands on a teammate, it restores their health by 15%.

• Love Me, Love Me Not

This taunt has Decoy pick pedals off of a flower. If a heart appears, then the enemy walks free. If a broken heart appears then the enemy receives critical damage. This taunt gives a 50/50 chance each time it is used.

• Love Potion No.9

Can be slipped into any food or beverage. Once consumed, the enemy cannot hurt Decoy up to 10 seconds. This taunt can only be used 3 times during a match.

• Milkshake

In this taunt, Decoy pulls out a tray and proceeds to make and serve milkshakes to anyone who takes them. Decoy serves any flavor of milkshake to her teammates to boost their health level much like Heavy's Sandvich, but is far sweeter.

Achievements

• Master Maiden: Achieve over 50 'Blowing Kisses' taunt kills.

• Golden Gal: Seduce kill each class in one round.

• Lucky Lady: Dodge 5 airblasted rockets using acrobatics.

• Flirting with Death: Lure a Scout over 100 times

• Here to Save The Day: Protect a struggling teammate more than 5 times in one round.

• The Angelic Acrobat: Save a teammate over 20 times by throwing back a Demoman's grenade using acrobatics.

• Dangerous Dame: Seduce kill 500 times.

• Kiss it Better: Heal over 75 teammates using 'Blowing Kisses' taunt or by using Lipstick melee.

Domination Lines

SCOUT

"So you're the fastest man alive, huh? Is that why you can't get a date?"

"Why so red tough guy?"

"I like a guy who can make me laugh."

"Hey, my eyes are up here scooter."

"Your ass must be pretty jealous of all the shit that comes out of your mouth."

SOLDIER

"If I threw a stick, you’d leave, right?"

"Everyone’s entitled to act stupid once in awhile, but you really abuse the privilege."

"You look good with black and blue."

"Are you always such an idiot, or do you just show off when I’m around?"

"I was hoping for a battle of wits but it would be wrong to attack someone who’s totally unarmed."

PYRO

"I AM a woman, what's your excuse?"

"Still think your on fire?"

"What in the hell? What are you supposed to be?"

"Did things get really hot in here, or is it just me?"

"Earth is full. Go home."

ENGINEER

"Whoopsie, did I do that?"

"Look at the cute little toys! Can I play with one?"

"You only annoy me when you’re breathing, really."

"Your birth certificate is an apology to your parents from the hospital."

"How impressive! You can put your foot in your mouth and your head up your ass at the same time!"

HEAVY

"So... do you name your guns because you can't get a real date or?..."

"Oh wow, this must be pretty embarrassing for you."

"Are your compensating for something?"

"Jesus christ, You’re so fat you could sell shade."

"You are the human version of period cramps."

DEMOMAN

"Sorry, but you won't be able to drink away the alcoholism."

"I'm gonna hit you so hard, you'll lose your accent."

"*sad crying that turns into cruel laughter*"

"You’ll never be the man your mom is."

"Nice onesie, does it come in men's?"

"Aww, Do you need me to kiss your boo-boo better?"

MEDIC

"Excuse me nurse, could you take a look at this for me?"

"They took your license away for a reason doctor."

"Oh! I like your dress!"

"If laughter is the best medicine, your face must be curing the world."

SNIPER

"That's disgusting."

"Isn’t there a bullet somewhere you could be jumping in front of?"

"Just because you have a dick doesn’t mean you need to act like one."

"I’ve been called worse by better."

"There’s no doubt about it. Your father should have pulled out earlier."

SPY

"Is that a knife in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

"Hey croissant, your fly’s undone."

"If you’re going to be two-faced, at least make one of them pretty."

"Acting like a prick doesn’t make yours grow bigger."

"Je n'ai jamais pensé rencontrer un homme sans couilles."

DECOY

"You're not cute sweetheart."

"See, this is why the men don't take us seriously."

"Nice outfit. I bet if you stood on a street corner, you’d make some money."

"Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful. Hate me because your boyfriend thinks so."

"I’ve seen your kind before…but last time, I had to pay admission.

Backstory

Decoy (Delilah Lou Rose) was born April 1st, 1941 in a backstage tent and grew up as a acrobatic clown in the Canadian Circus.

She was brought to the Administrator's attention when she slaughtered a total of 12 men with ease during a break in and attempted assault. A meeting with Saxton Hale eventually led to a job offer. Needing the money, she takes a job with the Gravel wars, thinking it was a show. Once she realizes that it is in fact not a show, but a place where men kill each other, it's too late.

Delilah Lou became a new class called the Decoy, where she would lure unsuspecting men to their death. It wasn't long before she fell in love with the job and grew strong friendships with her coworkers.

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echotrinityme · 3 years ago

Text

Foolish Chapter 4: Rejection

Charles, Henry, Ellie were goofing off and playing around. They were having a grand ol' time until they noticed Rupert walking dejectedly. His head was down and his hat was covering his face, he was holding his injured hand with his other hand.

They were all concerned for him, especially Henry. He walked past them without a glance at them, he was still shaking and he hunched as if he wanted to appear small.

"I wonder what's wrong with him?" asked Ellie, curiously.

"Yeah, he seems all bummed out." added Charles, sadly.

Henry frowned and started to go after him but a hand stopped him, he turned to see Charles holding him back.

"It's best to leave him alone when he's like this." said Charles.

"Why? " questioned Henry.

"Well you see...Rupert doesn't handle his negative emotions well." explained Charles. "He has anger issues and he would rather hide his feelings rather than confront them."

"That's seems unhealthy." said Ellie, who was frowning.

"That's one way of putting it." said Charles, sadly. "He needs help for controlling these emotions but he refused to get help."

Henry felt bad about Rupert, he never considered the problems that plague him. Before he joined the Government, he caused a lot of trouble for the police officers and security guards. He even caused a death and a job firing of Rupert's co workers, he felt even more guilty and sadness.

"I wonder why that is?" asked Ellie, she was now more curious about Rupert. "He needs help and support."

"Maybe later we can invite him to hang out." said Charles, happily.

"Yeah, that will probably cheer him up." added Ellie.

"We can ask him later." said Henry.

They all agreed to ask him later and went back to goofy off until Captain Victoria needed them to do some work, which they all groaned at that.

Meanwhile with Rupert, he went inside of his tent and he looked around to search for something. He spotted the med kit on a table and he opened it to get bandages to dress up his wound, after he was done he set the med kit down and sat on his bed covering his face with his hands.

He sighed heavily, he felt numb. He never considered the outcome of the situation he will be in, he thought everything will go out great but life doesn't work that way. He never had such good luck when he was growing up, he always have a feeling that life was just screwing him over. He also had problems expressing his negative emotions ever since childhood, he didn't know what to do now.

He lie down on his bed and stared up at the ceiling before he felt his eyes droop close, he fell asleep.

Hours later, he woke up. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, he got up and felt disoriented from his nap. He checked the time and saw it was evening, he swore and was about to get angry at himself until Charles and Henry walked in.

"Hi, Rupert are you feeling ok?" asked Charles, softly. "Earlier, we saw you ignored us."

"Yeah and you seemed sad so we left you alone." signed Henry, with a small smile on his face.

Rupert stared at them for a moment but mostly at Henry, his smile for some reason made Rupert feel...different. A warm kind of different which confused him and felt heat coming to his face, he closed his eyes and ignored the warm feeling.

"Hey Rupert?" said Charles, tentatively.

"What? Sorry I was distracted." apologized Rupert, sheepishly. "I'm doing ok, just needed a few of sleep. I'm fine, don't worry about me."

Rupert tried to smile but it didn't work, he's hoping that will convince them. "You are such an idiot" he thought. Charles and Henry didn't look convinced but shrugged it off, which made Rupert breathe a sigh of relief.

"So anyway, we came here to invite you to hang with us." said Charles, beaming. "We were hoping hanging out will cheer you up."

Henry nodded while he was talking, he was looking at Rupert with morbid curiosity. Some part of him wanted to say no but it's better than wallowing in his depression, who knows it can be good to hang out with people.

"Okay." said Rupert, with a small smile.

"Great, let's go." beamed Charles.

They all walked out and Charles led them to the entrance of the base, Ellie was already there waiting for them.

"Took you guys long enough." teased Ellie. "Hey Rupert."

"Hi." muttered Rupert.

"Ok, let's go to Brody's." said Charles.

They all headed to Brody's and went inside to find a table, they all sat down and a waiter came by to get their orders. They all got drinks and they waited, Ellie decided to start a conversation. She decided to talk about random things, like favorite food, favorite movies, favorite things to do, etc.

Charles and Ellie were mostly talking with Henry contributing here and there while Rupert stayed quiet, they've tried to get him to talk but he wouldn't budge so they let him be. Henry stopped talking and pulled out his phone to scroll through it, Rupert kept drinking and stayed silent.

It wasn't until Ellie mentioned her brother that got his attention, he sat up and glanced at her quickly.

"My brother Jacob, told me he's dating someone and the way he said sounds they are a good one." said Ellie,excitedly. "I'm so happy that he found someone that's making him happy."

"Oh who is it?" asked Charles.

"He told me, his name is Dave Panpa."

Rupert bristled at the comment and his hands began to shake, they didn't noticed it but Henry did. He was worried about him, he's been quiet ever since he came back from being out. Rupert clutched the glass and he took a drink, after he was done he set the glass roughly making everyone jumped.

"Excuse me for a moment." said Rupert, lowly. He got up and went outside before anyone can say anything. As soon as he went outside, he wanted to yell in frustration but stopped when someone followed him.

Henry followed him outside, he had a worried look on his face.

"What do ya want?" asked Rupert, coldly.

"I just wanted to see if you were ok." replied Henry.

"Why do ya care?"

"I should, considering our relationship."

"There is no relationship, we are just using each other." said Rupert, firmly. "I already told you this before."

"What our first time having sex in the back of your police car ?" questioned Henry, sadly.

"That was a mistake. It shouldn't have happened."

Henry went silent for a moment, he bowed his head down. He stared at his boots as if they were the most interesting thing, he stopped and glanced up at Rupert.

"I don't think it's a mistake." whispered Henry, softly. Rupert almost didn't hear him, he was too busy mulling over the fact that Henry's voice is actually soothing.

"It is." growled Rupert, he was getting more frustrated by the second. "What ever yer feelin' it's not real."

"But-"

"No!" shouted Rupert, which made Henry flinched and recoiled in fear.

"I'm in love with someone else, someone that is not you!"

The situation was getting intense and both men weren't being rational or reasonable, Rupert's anger was coming into full making it more worse, Henry on the other hand was starting to tremble and his eyes started to well up in tears.

Before Henry can try to reason with him, Rupert snapped with rage.

"I WILL NEVER LOVE A STUPID CRIMINAL!" bellowed Rupert.

Henry gasped and he finally started sobbing loudly, some the patrons came out to see what's the commotion. Charles and Ellie came out too and saw Rupert seething and Henry crying. Before anyone can ask what's wrong, Henry bolted to unknown direction.

"Hen! Wait!" exclaimed Charles.

"What did you do?" asked Ellie to Rupert, coldly.

Rupert stared at the direction where Henry was standing and to the duo watching him, some of the other patrons started at him in anger before they came back inside.

For some reason, Rupert felt guilty.

Meanwhile with Henry, he went to a clearing in a forest and found a rock to sit on. He was still sobbing and shaking, he covered his eyes with his hands. A few minutes, he stopped sobbing. His eyes were red and glassy, he was still trembling. He remembered Rupert's words and anger at him, he then began to cry again.

There was suddenly a noise that snapped him out of his crying fit, he got up and searched around but couldn't see cause it's was dark. He tried to listen where the source is coming from until a couple of bushes rustled.

Henry got into an attack stance and someone came out the bushes, he quickly attacked the other person. The other person was surprised and began to defend himself, however Henry stopped attacking after he got a look of the person he was 'attacking'.

"Calvin?" signed Henry.

"Henry?" said Calvin, dumbfounded.

"I'm so sorry for attacking you, I thought you were something else." apologized Henry. "Are you ok ?"

Calvin noticed Henry's eyes were red and his face had dried tear streaks, in other words he looked like hell.

"Yeah I'm ok but are you?"

"Why do you ask ?"

"You looked...not okay."

Henry raised an eyebrow at that, he then realized he was crying before Calvin showed up. He scrambled to wipe any evidence of him crying until a hand stopped him in his place, Calvin grabbed his hand gently and Henry stared at him in confusion.

"You were crying, weren't you?" said Calvin, softly.

Henry nodded and he bowed his head down in sadness, Calvin got feeling he was rejected by someone but who? He himself also got rejected earlier, he tried to ask Charles out but that went well...bad.

"C'mon, let's get outta here."

Calvin led Henry back to base and even offered him into his tent he shared with his brother, Konrad was hanging out with June July so he was gone for the night.

The rest of the night was a blur to Henry, the next morning he woke up naked and next to Calvin who was also naked and asleep.

#Henry Stickmin #henry stickmim collection #rupert price #henry stickmin x rupert price #charles calvin #ellie rose #stickprice #calvin bukowski

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magic-and-moonlit-wings · 4 years ago

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Chapter 51: Changeling Rite Of Passage

Becoming the Mask

Bold italics are trollish.

+=+

"Everybody set?" asked Jim, adjusting his backpack. "First aid kits, water, emergency rations?"

Mary patted her bag. "Plus a solar-powered phone charger and fully-charged credit card, in case we get stuck in Florida and have to get home the human way."

"You're sure bringing our weapons is okay?" Darci asked Glug, who had agreed to join them. "I mean, showing up with swords and spears doesn't exactly say 'peaceful diplomatic party'."

"Everyone needs a good spear," said Glug lightly. "Never know when you find something to hunt. Or something hunts you."

"This way," said Blinky, turning. He was guiding them through the lower levels of Trollmarket.

It was a mostly residential area which the humans hadn't explored yet. The light here was softer and multi-coloured, coming from various crystals besides the Heartstone. There were still occasional market stalls. They gave Darci the impression of neighbourhood corner stores, rather than the more downtown-ish feeling of the main market area.

Blinky led the way down a sloping path, through a doorway, and paused to gesture dramatically.

"Behold, young ones. The Gyre."

It rose from the floor, rotating into what Darci assumed was the 'ready' position.

"Oooooh."

"That's the coolest troll-y trolley I've ever seen," said Toby.

It looked like a gyroscope, between two side-mounts instead of a central base, and with a boat-like structure in the centre. Or one of those models of an atom, with the electron orbit paths mapped out. Or those depictions of angels as multilayered interlocking wheels.

They climbed up the thin staircases on either side of the basket while Blinky continued to deliver exposition.

"No longer do trolls have to travel on hoof between our markets. Now, thanks to a series of tunnels and some creatively engineered machinery, we can take a journey that would last weeks in only moments!"

AAARRRGGHH spun the outer wheel of the vehicle to kickstart it, and got out of the way rather than climbing into the basket with the rest of them. The stairs folded back.

"You're not coming?" Toby asked.

AAARRRGGHH shook his head, his ears set low. "Hate Gyre."

"What so bad about the GYYYYYYYRRRRRREEE–?!"

Inertia pushed the passengers to the back bench. How Blinky was able to stay standing at the controls was a mystery. The six-eyed troll cackled, his four hands dancing over the control panel, pushing buttons and turning knobs and pulling levers with perfect timing to adjust their course down a series of forking tunnels.

It was the scariest and most exhilarating ride ever.

They slammed to a stop and the passengers fell forward, still screaming.

"We've made excellent time!" said Blinky brightly. "You see, was that so bad?"

"Yes," said Jim, rolling off the pile of twitching bodies. "Yes, it was."

"I've got some saltines in my purse," said Claire.

"I think I need, like, a gallon of ginger ale," said Mary.

"For once I don't think I can eat anything," said Toby.

"That was awesome!" said Darci. "It was like, the world's best roller coaster! Is that as fast as it can go?"

"Nooo, don't tell us," moaned Claire. "I don't wanna know."

The humans untangled themselves shakily. Glug had apparently kept her balance, clinging to the basket's side. Darci made a mental note to do that next time.

The Gyre station did not open to another Trollmarket. They climbed up a steep tunnel, and emerged into a swamp.

It was dark. They'd timed their trip to arrive shortly after sunset in the Everglades. The world seemed to be made of green shadows and distant stars. Jim's armour glowed a little, but not enough to work as a flashlight.

"We should probably hold hands to make sure we don't get separated," said Jim softly. "Move slow. Try to test the ground before you put your weight on it."

The humans and Changeling latched onto each other – Darci took the end of the line, since her crossbow couldn't be hung from her hip like a sword or hammer – and followed the tall, rectangular shadow of Blinky deeper into the swamp. Glug blended in too well to guide them.

Darci's eyes gradually adjusted enough to see Glug when the troll got close. She could see how Toby had his hand on Claire's elbow instead of holding her hand, so Claire could use her spear as a walking stick. Darci started walking a bit more confidently. So did everyone else.

She felt a sudden jerk on her arm as Mary, between Darci and Claire in the lineup, stumbled.

"Whoa!"

"Wha-?"

"Ow!"

"Everyone okay?" Jim asked once they all stopped yelping. Nobody had actually fallen.

"I'm okay."

"Fine."

"Just caught my foot on some vines, I think."

"I'm alright."

"Almost there," Glug reassured them.

And then they were surrounded, by trolls nearly identical to Glug, pointing spears at them.

"Oh," said Glug delightedly. "We're here!"

"Why are you leading outsiders to our home?" one of them demanded.

"I vouch for them," Glug promised. "They've come to ask a favour only the Quagawump Trolls can help them with."

"You're practically an outsider yourself by now." Another one snorted and jabbed her spear closer to Glug. "Why should your word mean anything?"

With suspiciously convenient timing, the clouds moved away from the moon. Several of the Quagawumps gasped and pointed at Toby.

Okay, maybe there was some truth to that weather-magic thing?

"Uh … Greeting!" Toby waved uncertainly at them. "I am Tobias of Arcadia. I journey with the Trollhunter to ask you … to help, to avenge the Shattered King."

Most of the Quagawumps quickly huddled together, whispering among themselves. The two who had been furthest to the edges of the group kept their spears at the ready and their eyes on the outsiders.

"Follow us," the one who was probably in charge of this scouting party said. "You will present your request to everyone."

The path through the swamp was twisty, but it stayed on relatively solid ground.

Darci started to see green crystals growing from the trees, like in Glug's poem. Jim gasped sharply when they saw the first one. When the crystals were thick enough to appear in almost every tree, he wandered from the group and touched one. Their local guides started chanting, distracting her. When Darci looked at Jim again, he was standing at Toby's side with his hands behind his back like a bodyguard.

+=+

Jim broke off a fragment of the green Heartstone. Just like the first time he'd touched the one back in Trollmarket, it came off easily in his hand.

He vanished and reformed the scale mail of his armour over his palm. His stolen prize was safely hidden. With his other hand he coaxed it around to rest on the back of his hand, caught under the plate of his gauntlet, rather than on his palm where it might affect his grip on a weapon.

He rejoined his friends, lingering protectively around Toby.

The swamp Heartstone was coloured similarly to the green crystals in the Darklands, but it felt different. Warmer. Had this been how the supposed 'Darklands Heartstone' had felt back when Gunmar first built his throne into it?

They went through a freestanding brick archway with curtain of hanging vines, entering the Quagawumps' – meeting hall? Town square? Plaza?

There was Heartstone everywhere, like Vendel's workshop, and dozens of trolls milling about on their nightly business. Jim didn't see anything that looked like a house or tent, but there was a table out in the open, and some cooking fires.

A large statue of King Quag watched over it all.

(At least, Jim didn't think it was his rebuilt body, since it was so much bigger than the other Quagawumps.)

"AI-YI-YI-YI-YI-YI-YAAA!" cried the Quagawump carrying the Parlok spear.

"AI-YI-YI-YI-YI-YI-YAAA!" cried the rest in response, turning their attention to the newcomers.

"Mm, humans," Jim heard one say quietly to another. "A taste not common." He readied himself to summon his sword.

They were banking on Toby's resemblance to King Quag to coax the Quagawumps into hearing them out. Blinky's suggestion, that Toby pretend to be King Quag's reincarnation, had been dismissed as rude, risky, and with a chance of Toby getting possessed. Maybe they should've given it more consideration, though.

"What is the cause of this ruckus?" asked a deeper voice. "Has tonight's first scouting party returned early?"

A tall, brownish-grey troll with a large stomach and back-swept horns walked into the plaza with slow dignity. He wore nothing but a crown with a glowing green gem. He blinked at the sight of humans in the crowd and continued in English.

"Who you now? Why humans here?"

Blue light pulsed over the lines of Jim's armour, calling attention to him.

"I am the Trollhunter, Jim, son of Barbara. These are my allies, Tobias, Claire, Mary, and Darci, and my mentor and trainer, Blinkous Galadrigal. We come to ask a favour of the Quagawump trolls."

"King Blango, am I."

"We are honoured to meet you, King Blango." Jim did a little half-bow. "We have learned of how to kill Gunmar. Your tribe does not need to fight," before anyone started thinking this was an army recruitment speech, "but you do have an object we need to make certain weapon."

A troll jabbed her spear in their direction, too far away to strike and not in the right stance to throw.

"Why do you think you can defeat Gunmar? What magics do you have?"

"This is my moment," said Toby. He stepped in front of Jim and began waving his hands dramatically. "Watch and be amazed. Abracadabra, nothing up my sleeve-era!"

He pressed his hands together, folded his thumb into his hand and pinched his other thumb under his forefinger, drew his hands apart to show his 'severed thumb', then put his hands back together and, with a flourish, waved his ten intact digits at the crowd.

The Quagawumps all gasped.

"He dismembered his hand, and then rejoined his flesh and bone?"

"His magic is so powerful!"

"The Trollhunter has found mighty allies! AI-YI-YI-YI-YI-YI-YAAA!"

"AI-YI-YI-YI-YI-YI-YAAA!"

Blango laughed. "Dismemberment amuse Blango."

Why did he keep speaking English? Did he not believe the humans spoke trollish? Did he find it offensive that they did? Or was he trying to intimidate them with his intelligence? Speaking your own language will not allow you to confer privately amongst yourselves, because I understand it too. Or was he trying to be hospitable, like how Jim tried to make a good impression by speaking trollish?

"What you ask of us?"

"Allow me borrowing the last living stone of King Quag, to unite the Triumbric Stones. You have my oath that I will return it once Gunmar is dead."

King Blango's expression went from amused to annoyed.

"King Quag not able help you," he said scornfully. "Shatter-ed King was – shatter-ed. Stone is mine! King am I!"

"My favourite musical," said Toby.

"What?"

"It's like a play, with singing?"

"Sing for us?" requested someone hidden in the crowd. The locals nodded among themselves, murmuring approvingly of this idea. One of them tapped on a section of Heartstone like the crystals were drums, sending a resonant boomp, boomp through the air.

For a moment, it looked like they might actually get away with that – defusing tension with an improvised musical number.

King Blango punched the ground and roared "NO!"

The plaza went silent.

Blango took two thudding steps closer to the humans. Jim edged forward to make sure he was between them and the troll. Blango leaned into Jim's face.

"You want crown … you fight me."

Jim had hoped it wouldn't come to that, but shrugged off his backpack casually, as though he wasn't worried.

"Okay."

"Master Jim –" Blinky tried to object. Blango threw a punch before he could finish.

Jim jumped over it and onto Blango's back.

Jim yanked Blango's ear and leaned, turning Blango away from the humans and sending him stumbling.

Blango grabbed Jim's leg and pulled him off. Jim's conjured knife left an ugly scrape down the king's back. It cut deep enough for purple blood started oozing up before that strip of stone went grey and lifeless.

Blango roared and threw Jim.

Jim rolled and snarled. Blango was between Jim and the humans now.

The amulet pulsed. Daylight manifested in Jim's empty hand.

He could conjure a throwing knife, but there were too many unacceptable potential casualties if he missed.

He was dimly aware of the noise of the crowd, of his friends and Blango's subjects reacting to each move of the fight. Blinky had one hand on each human's upper arm, to keep the four of them from jumping in.

Jim readied the blades. He and Blango started circling each other. They had only gone a few paces when Jim's foot slipped.

Blango charged and grabbed Jim by the neck.

Jim slashed Blango's arm.

Blango dropped Jim and clutched his wound.

Jim's knife and sword vanished when he landed. Blango grabbed Jim around the torso with his uninjured hand, and Jim drew his Creeper's Sun dagger.

Blango started to squeeze. The armour glowed more brightly, the forcefield keeping him from crushing Jim, but not repelling him. Jim touched the dagger's tip to Blango's throat.

"Surrender."

The king laughed.

"Blango never surrender to human," he sneered.

Jim turned the knife just slightly to the side and stabbed him through the shoulder. "Okay."

Blango dropped Jim again and fell to his knees, gasping for air as the toxin spread across his chest.

"What – happening?"

"It's a poison. It petrifies, but does not kill." Jim plucked off the crown just as Blango's head turned grey and inanimate. Sometimes the toxin could spread to clothing and he didn't want to risk decapitating Blango just to chisel the Killstone off him. To their audience, Jim announced, "I have the antidote for reviving him after we've left."

Jim started turning back the prongs of the gem setting, to remove the stone from the crown.

The swamp was still.

One of the mossy trolls cheered. "The Pretend King is gone!"

"Blango was our king!" snapped another troll near her. "Just because he was not the Lost King does not mean –"

"He was not even a Wumpa!" interrupted a third.

"He still led us for nearly two centuries!" countered a fourth.

In seconds, the Quagawumps were all yelling at each other. In minutes, they were shoving and smacking.

"We should go now," said Glug, in English.

Jim got his backpack back from Toby. He put the Killstone inside and took out a small bottle of Creeper's Sun antitoxin and a marker.

Antidote. Add piece of Heartstone and pour on poisoned troll, he wrote on the plastic. He left it on the table, along with the empty crown.

While he was crossing under the archway they'd come in through, Jim heard the unmistakable sound of breaking stone. He turned and saw that Blango had been toppled. These trolls now had two 'shattered kings'.

Toby started to turn around, as well. Jim put a hand on his shoulder and urged him forward.

Out in the swamplands, between the Quagawump plaza and the Gyre station, Toby said quietly to Jim, "You stabbed that guy."

"Yeah."

"It was scary, watching you fight like that. He could've killed you."

"Maybe? The armour did its job, though."

Jim had definitely had worse fights, which was probably not what Toby needed to hear right now. Blango had grabbed Jim a few times, but never properly hit him, and the throws and drops hadn't done much damage.

"I filmed the fight, if you want to watch later," Mary offered.

Jim made a noncommittal noise. He wasn't sure what to say to that. None of his training had covered 'what to say when your human friends comment on seeing you kill someone'.

(Well, it did, actually, but those options were 'deny it and prepare to discredit the human in the eyes of local authorities if necessary, or get the human alone and kill them too'.)

"I wonder what are the Quagawumps going to do for a leader now," said Clare.

"They'll find one," said Glug. "Maybe a Queen this time."

The Janus Order had a drinking game, called 'And What Have You Done?', which involved bragging about various accomplishments they had picked up in their time on the surface.

How it worked was that one Changeling would say a thing they'd done – like "I have officiated a wedding" or "I was a pirate" – and everyone who had done it would drink, and then the one who had said the thing would look at one of the Changelings who hadn't had a drink and ask, "And what have you done?"

It was too bad Jim couldn't tell most of them about his part in 'replacing a head of state'. He'd have to wait at least a decade, until he looked old enough that they wouldn't immediately demand details if he drank along with that.

Back in Trollmarket, Glug went back to the pub. The humans followed Jim into Vendel's workshop. Vendel looked at them, but said nothing, only pointed Jim to the cleaving tools.

Jim scratched his hand through his armour, moving the green Heartstone to his palm again, where he could conceal it once he dropped his armour. He used that hand to pull off the Amulet. Jim put the Amulet and Heartstone into his stomach pocket. He got the Killstone out of his backpack and handed the bag to Toby again.

"If anyone comes in, you guys are just curious about stone cleaving."

He changed shapes.

"You're doing it – like that?" Toby gaped at him. Jim's ears flicked back and down in discomfort.

"It's easier to see the right facets with these eyes. I can't afford to take chances with something this important."

+=+

"A shield?!" Jim yelled in delight. He blocked the fire jets – which would be a terrible idea with non-magical metal, but this didn't conduct the heat for some reason – and whooped. "I got a shield!"

And he'd unlocked one of the Triumbric Stones!

Unless this was something the Eye and the Killstone did as a cumulative effect and neither actually did anything on their own? He'd have to train with the Killstone by itself later.

It was too bad he would have to give it back to the Quagawumps once Gunmar was dead. A shield would be extremely useful, especially since most trolls Jim fought were bigger than him. He'd have to look for another shield-stone.

In his distraction, Jim nearly got crunched by some of the Forge's mechanisms. Not even the weaponry, but the giant gears that operated it. He yelped and jumped away.

His faceplate snapped shut as he recoiled. It had been doing that more and more often since the pepper spray incident. Maybe he should just leave it closed.

Hmm … Jim got an idea and made a quick mental note to practice it at home later, where he could watch his reflection, and wasn't in imminent peril.

+=+

Jim squinted at the mirror and opened his helmet's faceplate. The whole suit of armour flashed blue.

He closed the faceplate. Another blue flash.

He changed forms. This blue light was not quite the same shade, and more … crackly, like fork lightning reflecting off clouds.

The armour was amazingly responsive. At Jim's mental instruction, it covered his horns up, and trapped his ears under his helmet. His ears were a little uncomfortable, but not pinched or in an unnatural position. His helmet was padded, which allowed space for hidden ear pockets.

Jim changed to his human shape while opening the helmet's faceplate. The two blue lights blended into each other.

Jim has always liked his colouring. He felt it made him look intimidating. That was why he wore mostly blue clothing while in human form. The light of a Changeling's transformation tended to be that of their stone skin. Jim's just happened to be similar enough to the Amulet of Daylight that he could pass one glow off for the other.

(That could also come in handy if a fellow Changeling caught him just after he'd dismissed the armour – let them think they'd just missed him switching forms.)

Back to troll shape, closed faceplate. The armour adapted to his form with the new design, concealing his horns and ears. He was taller, but not by a lot – enough that it could be excused as a change of posture.

His tail was a bit of an issue, but since it was covered in armour plating, it looked like part of the faulds and tassets. As long as no one was staring at Jim's butt while he switched forms …

He might be able to train in the Hero's Forge in his troll form after all.

+=+

Previous Chapter (Jim talks to AAARRRGGHH, Toby talks to a therapist, Claire talks to Not Enrique)

Table of Contents

Next Chapter (AAARRRGGHH and Blinky make Jim a tempting offer)

I was rewatching The Shattered King to get ideas of how the swamp scenes would play out without Angor's intervention, and I realized that in canon, Angor killing Blango when he did was probably the best thing that could happen for the protagonists at that point.

Like, if Angor just sat there and watched?

Blango was definitely going to try and kill Toby, which would mean Jim would have to fight and probably kill Blango. Then they'd have to fight their way out of the swamp because the Quagawumps would all be mad. "You show up, lie to us, murder our current leader, and then try to escape while stealing a relic of our most beloved leader?"

And then, when the Tribunal shows up in the next season, the new Quagawump leader would be against Jim just like Usurna and Gatto were.

The Quagawumps in that universe would definitely be unwilling to side with the Trollhunter at the end of Season 3!

But with Angor interfering when he did, not only were Jim's hands clean of Blango's death (meaning Jim at that point in the narrative has only killed goblins, one Changeling, a Stalkling, and Bular, not any "good" – meaning "not serving Gunmar" – trolls), but Toby saves Wumpa from the collapsing petrified tree, so she gives them the Killstone and is willing to hear Jim out at his trial, even if she does ultimately vote against him.

Season 3 is still tense because the Quagawumps wanted to stay out of the fighting at first, making a deal with Gunmar's forces for protection. But, after changing their minds, not only do the Quagawumps fight on the Trollhunter's side during the Eternal Night, they even bring in their extended family as backup.

Also, on a Doylist level I get why the team only discussed their plan while on the way to do it, and why they only discussed where they were going once they had arrived – to deliver exposition to the audience and have that exposition pay off as soon as possible – but on a Watsonian level it was highly impractical. So here they planned it a bit further in advance.

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jafndaegur · 5 years ago

Text

Noise of Rain | Chapter Four

Ordinary Life Alluded Me, for My Duty You Lost Me

Sesskag

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Kagome crouched down in the dirt, up to her arms in weeds. She and a few others who had decided to take refuge in the Burial Mounds figured that making themselves self-sustaining with crops would be a solid move. From there they could eat and sell whatever they needed.

Not many people lived with her in the mountains but the tea shop owner, a few of her rescues, and even the odd hanyou had fallen under her care. So, the little clan she'd accidentally built up was now her responsibility. She looked up at the scraggly tents that lined the mountain path in front her. The Burial Mounds by far were not a place someone, anyone, should call home. But somehow here she was.

And Kagome was content.

She stood, her legs creaking as she stretched herself out and began to walk down the path away from the makeshift village. She supposed doing her patrol now instead of later would be better in the long run.

As she made her way down the path, the talismans at the entrance of the mountains told her someone, a group, had entered the proximity. Pulling Kangaimuryo from her belt, she hurried quickly over the patchy land and headed to the grove that spotted the foothills.

"Lady Kagome!" Came a familiar boyish voice, and she relaxed and slowed her pace.

Twirling the fife in her grasp, she ventured further, "Kohaku! You finally showed up, we were beginning to—"

And then she stopped.

Up the hill came Kohaku who was closely followed by Sango, Miroku, and Shippo. She paused at the sight of her friends. She hadn't expected to see them for a while since the teahouse incident. Honestly if they wanted to keep their distance, she couldn’t blame them. Afterall she was different.

"Kagome! You're looking brilliant," Miroku chirped with his usual chipper mien.

Her friends stood around her while Kohaku excused himself to go settle in at the camp back up the mountain. She waved him off before turning to everyone. Heavy and thunderous, her heart pounded against her ribs.

"We figured we'd take a little vacation!" Shippo hopped from Miroku's shoulder to Kagome's, giving her a tight hug around her neck. "If that's okay …"

Her hands instantly wound around the small kit, her gaze swinging to the fond looks of the monk and demon slayer.

"With Naraku gone..." Miroku flexed his hand, seeming almost—almost—bashful.

Sango stepped forward. "We figured we'd come spend time with you and help you here."

And within seconds, Kagome found herself crushed within the embrace of her best friend. Miroku joined them, pulling the small little group against him with his warm arms.

"You've done so much for us," Sango murmured. "And while we don't understand why you're doing what you are, we're not going to let you do this alone."

"What kind of friends would we be if we just stopped bothering you?" Miroku crooned.

"You guys…" she buried herself in their closeness, breathing in the familiarity and presence of them. It'd been so long and she'd been so alone. "Living up here, it's kinda rough. Are you sure?"

"Kagome, I'm wounded you don't think us hearty enough." The monk gave a reassuring squeeze.

"We're here to stay." Shippo assured, clapping his small paws against her cheeks for good measure.

And that was that.

Kagome led them up the path, instructing them in how to safely traverse the mountain and avoid any pockets of resentful energy that she had yet to purge.

"Where is Kirara?" She asked after a few moments, realizing that the fiery feline was missing from her normally inseparable spot with the demon slayer.

"She's waiting in the village. Once Kikyo has settled, she'll be bringing Kaede." Sango's face twisted to something along the lines of pitying. "With the original Inuyasha forest guardians back and alive, Kaede felt it was time to move on. So she'll be joining us."

Kagome's heart warmed just a bit more before it cracked. "Wait...then that means Inuyasha's staying…"

Their group was quiet. No one spoke as the tents came into view and the little field Kagome had been de-weeding. All of it came into view and drowned out the noise of rain their footsteps cried.

"We'll see him around," Sango finally piped up.

Miroku clapped. "That's right. He's curious to see what you've been up to." He gave an observant sweep of the area. "Which seems to be starting your own little village! Should we be calling you the Edo Matriarch, Kagome?"

She laughed and lightly tapped him upside the head with her flute. Somehow though, once she introduced them to the others in the camp, that nickname seemed to stick. It was amusing and for some reason and it made her feel independent from "Shikon Miko".

---

Miroku had been surprisingly good about rolling up his sleeves and helping Kagome till the fields. Within the week between him, her, and some of the others—they were able to make several paddies for growing food. Irrigation would be another problem to worry about later but for now they could start planting. At least hopefully.

They'd missed peak growing season and were edging too close to comfort to the autumn.

But if they could at least greenhouse some roots—maybe potatoes and radishes—they'd grow enough food to survive the winter. Clever little Shippo set up a perimeter of foxfire to help keep the soil area warm. They could do it.

Sango and Kohaku traveled down the mountain to a closeby village to trade for seeds and roots. Miroku and Kagome had decided to use the few cavern pools that were further up the crags to try and bring down water. They had just decided to stop at Kagome's room, a cave hidden away from the rest of the growing camp, when Miroku turned around with brows furrowed and face worried.

"There's a strong aura," he said lowly.

And for a moment she worried that he talked about her room. For many reasons she lived in the epicenter of the Burial Mounds where the strongest and most malicious energy wallowed. But in a flash the connection between her and the talismans lining the mountains went off and she sensed the intruder.

They ran. Kagome's haori whipped around violently while the rings on his staff jangled loudly. They skidded to a stop as they were met with the sight of an almost-impassive Sesshomaru.

His brow cocked, judgemental, while his arms unceremoniously dumped a large pile of lotus pods in front of them.

"S...Sesshomaru?" Kagome's chest heaved as she stared between him and the pods.

"Kohaku visited with Rin sometime ago," he lazily flicked his hand through the strands of his hair. "He mentioned you have instigated a village. How unlike you to become a village matriarch."

Kagome shot a warning glance to Miroku who completely ignored her heed.

"She's actually the Edo Matriarch," he sauntered forward and crouched down to inspect the lotus. "These are quite healthy, Lord Sesshomaru."

Kagome stared at him, "This is a generous gift I wouldn't have expected from you."

She hadn't meant to be biting in tone, and yet this was so unlike the daiyoukai's normally negligent attitude towards her.

His golden eyes turned frigid and his lips upturned into a frown. "Until you are ready to come face to face with the horrid truth that you are keeping to yourself, miko—make sure your village isn't in such shoddy appearance."

He turned on his toes and lifted into the air, flying away from them. They watched him until he was a mere patch of pale light on the horizon.

"You know, I'd say he was almost worried about you," Miroku began to make bundles of the plants.

Kagome rubbed at her temples, the nerves twinged and aching. Did Sesshomaru know? With all of his great and mighty youkai senses, she wondered if he had actually sniffed out her secret. She doubted that was the case, he was smart though and he probably noticed the clues she'd accidentally left behind. Her main worry was her friends finding out what had happened. The dog demon however, she was not worried about protecting him from the truth...she almost wanted him to find out. Not that he would care…

Maybe.

Kagome leaned down and began to pile lotus pods into her arms. They could take the seeds and plant them in a make-shift pond. That would help with the irrigation system too.

What an odd gift from a demon lord.

#sesskag #sesshomaru x kagome #sesshomaru #kagome higurashi #au: mo dao zu shi #song of the chapter is Cage sung by Tielle

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thewreckkelly · 4 years ago

Text

ESL: Don’t Just Blame the Owners

Despite being Irish I can still name every player and their position from that game at Wembley on July thirtieth. I was six when it was played.

For nearly six months the Saturday matinees at my local cinema in Dublin included newsreel footage of the Lisbon Lions. I was seven and a fan of the Cisco Kid.

You couldn’t move in the good room of my Uncle’s house the night the Belfast boy destroyed Benfica. I was eight and not that familiar with watching football on TV.

I collected souvenir coins from petrol stations leading up to, throughout and after the World Cup finals in Mexico. I was ten and an outraged defender of the English captain.

‘Revie’s Animals’ found my undying loyalty throughout the seventies with my first live game being at Anfield in 1971. I was eleven and thought Liverpool was an incredible city and Johnny Giles the best player ever.

World performers like Cruyff, Ardiles and Muller intruded into my fandom and opened up a bigger world picture as they performed in the German and Argentinean World Cups.

Spain 1982 provided my first experience of a live stage for world football where Northern Ireland shocked the hosts and Scottish fans became my friends in Malaga.

London 1983 saw my first visit to Highbury and resulted in me becoming a proud season ticket holder.

For the best part of fourteen years I didn’t miss an Arsenal game, (including every final up to and including the 2005 FA Cup), as well as being privileged enough to attend many internationals, World Cups and European Championships.

The 1992 Barcelona, Sampdoria final at Wembley saw me experience in person a sidelined Cruyff steer his total football to the ultimate success, (not that it was that obvious in that particular game).

Euro 96 allowed me to indulge in ten memorable live matches.

There is little doubt that watching Maradona do his thing in Italy and Internationally, rates among the very special experiences of my football love affair.

Sky Sports proved a Godsend when I moved back to Ireland in 1997 and delivered me not just the Gunners experience but also allowed the wannabe coach in me to watch the technical side of the game develop and grow beyond recognition.

Then came Spain and Messi – enough said .....

All of which is a preface to my provenance and how I feel about the current state of football along with the recently abortive attempt by the big clubs of Europe to go their own way in a thing they chose to call; ‘The European Super League’.

First of all, Football doesn’t belong to anyone. Two sweaters and a ball will allow those, who want to, to live the dream for as long and as often as they want. Commercial Professional football is a whole different animal altogether.

I was born a year before Jimmy Hill changed the financial landscape of the sport and grew into the game with enough of a curiosity - from watching him as a staple pundit on TV throughout the seventies - to research and try to understand the significance of his success and how it had affected the game.

When Jean-Marc Bosman went to court and won, it caused me to again reflect long and hard as to what the knock on effect would be.

While I was a subscriber to Sky Sports for many years and tipped my cap to the way they presented the game I was forever aware Rupert Murdoch was not likely to be a fan of football and yet again wondered at where this pursuit of satellite domination would take the sport.

The USA has a had a chequered history with football, where on several occasions the Napoleon's of money tried to buy what they considered a product so it could be customised to suit the taste of viewers and advertisers with an entirely different understanding and approach to televised sport.

These businessmen had developed a successful TV sports model with their own home grown games that was based upon exploiting a herd mentality with inconceivable numbers, promoted ‘innocent’ escapism, nativism and an highly unlikely avenue for anyone to succeed in an American dream.

I remember being somewhat uncomfortable that day in 2015 when it was announced on the news the FBI had arrested several high profile FIFA officials – my discombobulation was not with regard to the corruption charges but rather the sole involvement of an internal American law agency in what was essentially a non-American criminal enterprise – where were Interpol?

Three of the biggest clubs in England are owned by Americans and the ‘Golden Boy’ of a ‘Golden’ generation of English footballers has set his tent up in Florida as the new face of the game stateside.

The financial exploitation of the game is in full swing and being led by US corporate vultures and bankers.

And therein lies the problem.

I believe European football changed when mostly egotistical owners believed it was necessary to adopt a profit and loss ethos over and above the reasonable – as set out by the management of professional sport in the US.

It could be said that this became most visible when merchandising was designed to marry itself to personal identity - a cornucopia of uniforms for the masses to openly display a sense of belonging. And all of a sudden ‘Official’ kits costing a pittance to produce in South East Asia were being hawked to fans at a mark up of ten thousand percent or so.

And the fans bought it.

Ticket prices galloped ahead of inflation by ridiculous percentages. Player wages went through the roof and transfer fees – coupled with agents’ commissions – found, to their collective delight, there was no ceiling.

Satellite companies shut out traditional terrestrial 'free to air' national broadcasters with unacccountable fees for exclusive rights.

Catering prices at stadiums became the stuff of usury practice with cognac shrimp con beurre blanc finding its way on to menus for non- football loving patrons of newly constructed corporate boxes.

Meanwhile the next World Cup is to be hosted in one of the richest non-football playing dictatorships in the world.

And the fans bought it.

Then an announcement out of the blue that the ESL was real!

And the fans didn’t buy it, (for the moment)

However it would appear fans are of a mistaken assumption they get anything in return for the excessive amount of money they pay into professional football - other than the ninety minutes promised, overpriced propaganda ridden tat, satellite service and being told little or nothing constructive by so called experts.

The brief history outlined above would, instead, indicate supporters unwavering attendance and acceptance of financial and other abuses will continue as long as fans demand a fix.

It’s an awful comparison but reality tells me street dealers don’t lower the price of heroin for the good of the addict.

So should we really blame the twelve clubs and their owners for the ESL debacle?

The number of highly paid pundits, managers, players, agents and broadcasters who have stood on a recent soapbox of straw to exclaim their abhorrence of the ESL make me laugh and cry in equal measure.

These are the same people who continue to personally milk the game with their outrageous salaries and fees – in most cases for being very average at what they do and in all cases way beyond anything approaching honest. They are not just hypocritical they are a curse on the game and absolutely guilty of legal daylight robbery.

Yet all the people of ‘standing’ in football have targeted a convenient scapegoat in owners and board members whom they believe are somehow more insidious than they are themselves. All of these horrors are most defiantly not the gatekeepers of football but they do uncaringly exploit the professional game for their own personal benefit – given the actual mediocrity of the majority of these parasites they are not just robbing the fans they’re actually robbing the owners as well.

The sport has reached a point where there are few, if any, innocents involved who are not, at least, partly responsible in the creation of the ESL and no amount of sanctimonious slobbering will convince me otherwise.

And the fans should know that by now.

Maybe not!

So, is there a solution to this problem?

No!

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