#but at least I actually drew whew my neck hurts

[toastysol]

You should prolly run now...

[sh1-n0bu]

✿ 𝙪𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙 ✿

Character: Vampire! Scaramouche x Reader

Warning: Blood, biting, nudity (but nothing too nsfw, y’all just open your button up shirts), cursing, angst, fluff, hurt/reverse comfort, gn! reader, Scaramouche might be a bit OOC here, Victorian!AU, a bit of everything lmao

no beta-read, we die like my will to live

first time actually writing on Tumblr low-key nervous ngl🤭

‘Whew, what a long day. But at least I managed to sell a lot tod-‘ hearing a glass shatter as you were closing up your tiny herbs and medicine shop was definitely not the way you wanted to finish your night. Your little shop was the only one that sells medicine in this small town without charging for extra moras unlike the big, famous ones the rich people like to go to. Everyone in this small town was forever grateful and respectful to you and your shop. Whenever your new boxes of goods would come, the people would always lend you a hand without you asking for it, and for that you were always grateful. So when your shop’s second floor window suddenly got broken in by a short man with a noble people clothes, you were greatly surprised. But now was not the time because he was bleeding and you don’t enjoy letting blood get everywhere unless it’s the small surgery room.

“Sir! Sir, can you hear me? Sir? I need you to get up so i can carry you to the surgery room!” shaking his shoulders while asking him basic questions, you definitely know his still alive because he still had a pulse. Before you can forcefully drag him like a corpse to the lower floor, the man yanked you down to the floor and straddled your waist.

“Hey! What do you think your doing?!” usually you’re not one for violence but if he was drunk off his ass and was thinking of molesting you, he’s got a rough, calloused hand to be slapped by.

“Shut up… I don’t h-have enough time… for your stupid babbling… nonsense…” before you can question what he was mumbling about the stranger tore off your cravet tie and had placed his mouth on your neck.

“You-?! Get off of me this instant you- Ow!” when you tried to kick him off, the stranger pinned your hands down and bit your neck harshly. You can already feel blood pouring out and it was not pleasant. Through all of your suffering the man was sucking and licking the blood off, almost like a depraved animal and you swore you could feel something akin to animal fangs penetrating your neck before your vision started to have black dots in the corner and you passed out due to blood loss.

—

When you woke up the next morning with a perfectly bandaged neck and your assaulter coming into the small attic room with something to eat and drink, you were ready to throw hands. It didn’t matter to you if he was some rich, snobby, nobleson or even the son of the queen. For all you care, this son of a bitch bit your neck so hard to the point he drew blood and caused you to pass out.

“Oh, you’re awake. Now before you start screaming your lungs off like a banshee let me explain myself first”

“And why the hell should I? You son of a bitch bit me like a fucking animal!” he chuckled at that. Now that you actually took a closer look at him, he was a rather odd looking fellow. There wasn’t anything rare or monstrous about his looks but, there was just something odd about him. And one thing you learned from years of running and managing a shop all by yourself is to trust your guts.

“Well you’re an interesting little thing. I have never met a human who reacts like you after what happened. But if you want me to explain myself then you have to keep your mouth shut little mouse”. You certainly didn’t like the way he referred to you. Like some kind of an insect, some kind of a toy that’s for his amusement who will later on get thrown away if he lost interest in you. But as long as he doesn’t get a centimeter closer, then you’re willing to cooperate.

“Fine. But if you get closer to me I won’t hesitate to smack you out of the window you broke last night” he laughed dryly at that. Seems like he was getting more and more amused by you and your choice of words.

“Oh, you’re an interesting one little mouse. Makes me want to keep toying with you like this. So little mouse…” he stalked closer to you despite what you had just said and leaned down to look at you right in the eyes. You didn’t like it. Not one bit. You wanted to punch him in his face and knock his teeth in but moving has never felt harder and your limbs has never felt like tons of bricks before. So you decided to challenge him and stared right back. The stranger’s stormy violet eyes seemed to darken and swirl. Getting uncomfortably close to your face he asked

“…Do you believe in vampires?”

—

It has already been 11 months since your run in with Scaramouche. Ever since he dropped the bomb that yes, vampires are very much real and not just some fairytale told by story-tellers and your parents to keep you awake at night you and Scaramouche had started some odd relationship. He would come by every now and then, through the door thankfully, and stay the night or a few in an exchange of helping you out with your shop. You would sometimes teach him a thing or two about herbs, medicines, wound treatment and he would talk about his kin and about himself if he feels like it. And on some nights, he would tear off your tie, forcefully pin you down and suck your blood until you passed out then in the morning you would scold him as he treats the bitemarks that he caused. It was a very strange relationship, the two of you had. More intimate than friends but not intimate enough to be considered lovers. Reading each other like an open book but also not exactly knowing what each other do or even enjoy. It was an odd line Scaramouche and you two were threading on.

The bells that hung above your hole in the corner shop’s doors jingled softly as someone came in. The medic knew who it was for this had happened all too frequently. A creaking of the woods sounded closer and closer until the person plotted down on the couch of the backrooms. Finishing up cleaning some jars and boxes, the medic saw the very same vampire they formed an odd relationship with over the last 11 months.

“How was the trip?”

“Fucking tiring” came the groan of Scaramouche. Snickering at his dramatic self, they handed him a cup of tea. The vampire gulped down the whole cup of tea, ignoring how his throat burned. Setting the cup down Scaramouche got up from his seat confusing the shop-keeper.

“Are you leaving again this so-?” before they could finish their question, said vampire began taking off his clothes. Tailcoat, tie, blazer, white button down shirt all fell down on the couch he was sitting on.

Coughing into their gloves, the medic turned their face away hoping to conceal the blooming red on their face, trying to forget what just happened from their memory. Now, the medic was no prude and they got quite used to seeing half naked people due to some harsh injury treatments. But no man they ever performed on was as good-looking as the hot vampire standing in front of them.

“W-what do you think you’re doing? When the shop is still open none the less?” bringing a hand up to cover the side of their face so they won’t accidentally look at his half naked form, the shop owner tried to cool off their face.

Looking at the flustered medic, the vampire smirked, a very mischievous idea forming in his head. Taking the hand that was covering the side of their face, the purple-head looked up studying every detail. His smirk widens when your face gets redder, loving how he was teasing you. His other hand came up to hold your chin, leaning his face in closer and closer to yours, until he suddenly pushed you down on the couch. The hand that was holding yours pinning it down while the other works on taking off your tie and unbuttoning your button down shirt.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing now?!” grabbing the hand that was stripping you, your [c] eyes looked at his stormy purple ones.

“I’m thirsty. I’ve been away for a week and i’ve only been drinking animal blood and those were fucking disgusting”

“Then why did you take off your clothes dumbass?!”

“They were dirty” he was quite blunt with it. After looking in his eyes if he was lying or not - finding none - you sighed and slowly let go of his hand, letting him finish with his previous actions. Now basically both of you were half-naked.

Fuck, the sexual tension is too damn much, why isn’t he biting? By now he should be on his process of sucking you dry until you pass out but he wasn’t. Instead he was just looking down at you.

Scaramouche’s POV

Oh fuck. He had you like this before but at that time he was too blinded by his hunger he didn’t realize just how damn ethereal you are. Gently running his hands over your tummy and up your chest, he noticed how you shivered and your breath hitched under his fingertips.

Then he looked up at your face, how you were biting your lips and red you were in the face. Your gorgeous [c] eyes looking up at him, waiting for him to bite you, to take your blood, to mark your whole body as his-

‘Oh fuck. This is bad’

When the vampire first met you, he only became acquainted with you just to quench his thirst and hunger but over time he had gotten attached to you as more than just bloodbank. Not only were you understanding, you were also kind, thoughtful, hard-working, intelligent and down-right intoxicating. Then he remembered the dream he had a few nights ago. In that dream he had you just like this. You on your back, beneath him but the difference was that you two seemed more… intimate than whatever you two have going on now. But right now, it wasn’t a dream.

It was real.

You were underneath him, shivering from his cold fingers, red faced, looking up at him with those eyes he fell for. Gulping, Scaramouche leaned down to your neck but instead of what he always does, he started placing soft kisses up your throat and to your chin. He noted how you flinched, shutting your eyes and how your free hand came up to his shoulder not being able to decide if you should push him away or not.

‘Fuck. If you keep being so intoxicating like this how am I suppose to give up on you?’ Scaramouche thought while leaving gentle kisses around your neck and shoulders, sometimes leaving hickeys or gnawing at your skin just to feel you flinch or squirm.

‘Do you have any idea how much I wanted this? How much I wanted you beneath me like this? Flinching and squirming, wiggling and moaning as I make you mine? I wanted it so much I even fucking dreamt about it. I want you. I want you so badly [Name], can’t you see?’ kissing up to your neck once more he finally bit down on the same spot he always bites, sinking his fangs deeper and more harshly just so he can hear you bite back your pained groans and squirm in his hold.

‘I want you. I want you [Name]. I’m a monster that drains someone’s life away and you’re someone that saves others. We’re opposites and yet there’s a saying that goes opposites attract. I know I shouldn’t but I want that to be true so badly’ after gulping down some he retracted his fangs, looking down at you just to see you staring back at him with your soft smile and kind eyes.This snapped something in him as he bit down on the other side of your neck harshly, almost as if wanting to completely tear off your neck. The way his mood changed caused you to jolt and yelp loudly in pain.

‘Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop it. Stop looking at me like that. Stop smiling at me. Stop treating me like a human being or else… I will fall more deeper and I won’t be able to let you go’ Scaramouche stopped and moved away from you, panting and licking his mouth. Both sides of your neck were covered in blood, old and new bite marks littering it while you were panting, trying to recover from his last merciless attack. The sight made him tremble. He wanted you. He needed you. But you weren’t meant for him. He was a monster, you were a medic. He was a killer and you were a savior. Maybe it’ll be best if he just leave you behind and run far away-

A gentle hand on his cheek snapped him out from his spiraling dark thoughts. Looking at you, you were still wearing the same kind expression.

‘You being mine could never happen. But i’ll cherish every moment I share with you as long as you’d let me’ leaning in Scaramouche started cleaning your wounds then softly kissing and leaving hickeys on your upper body.

‘I could never have you’ another kiss ‘but I can’t help but yearn for you’ another bite ‘so i’ll stay here. Right by your side as long as you’d allow me to’

‘I love you. But i’ll kill this feeling over and over again if it means you will be safe and happy’

[fruitcoops]

I love reading all your works and they put a smile on my face everytime I see them. Is there any chance you could do a whole Lupin family truth or drink (with or without Sirius is cool too) thanks

Hello anon! Thank you for your kind words--they mean more than you know <3 Jules isn’t included here because he’s 10 and the questions are not suited for 10-year-olds, but this was so much fun to write all the same! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for alcohol and mentions of sex

“We’re back!” Marlene announced with a smile as she set up an unlabeled bottle on the table, along with three shot glasses. “And today, we’re doing something a little different with truth or drink. Loops, do you want to do the intros?”

Remus waved at the camera. “Hey, Lions, I’m Remus Lupin and these are my parents, Hope and Lyall.” He frowned and looked over at Marlene. “You toned down the questions, right? These are PG?”

“Nope!” she said cheerfully as she took her place behind the camera. “Take it away, Hope, it’s good to have you back!”

“It’s good to be back!” she said, smiling. “I had so much fun last time. Alright, Loops, describe your first kiss.”

He shook his head with a laugh. “It’s so weird hearing you call me that. Uh, I was seventeen and I kissed Ellie Sanders from down the street during her birthday party for a game of truth or dare.”

“Seventeen? I was expecting earlier, to be honest,” Lyall said as he took a card. “Hope, darling, have you ever been arrested?”

She reached for her shot glass and Remus’ jaw fell open. “What?”

“Well, I guess I have to answer it now,” she sighed. “Sweetheart, I grew up in the seventies and eighties, and your father and I met during a protest. This should not surprise you.”

“We can drink at any time, right?” Remus asked Marlene before taking a shot and drawing a card. “I could answer this one. Was I an accident?”

“Yes,” the three of them said at the same time.

“I was 21, he was 23, we had been married for three months and were not planning on having kids for at least six years,” Hope explained. She reached over and took Remus’ hand. “But you were the best accident. Okay, my turn. Have you ever had sex in my house?”

“I knew that kind of question was coming up,” Remus muttered. “No, I have not, and I don’t plan on ever doing it. My childhood bedroom is literally the least sexy place I can think of.”

“I don’t know, those plaid sheets and wall-to-wall bookshelves are really something, “ Lyall teased as he took a card. Remus rolled his eyes. “In a similar vein: when did you lose your virginity, and did you use protection?”

“Again, I was seventeen, and I did use protection because I knew I was gay at that point and didn’t want to risk anything.” Remus ran a hand down his face. “Ugh, this was not how I thought my day was going to go.”

“Was it the same night as your first kiss?” Hope gasped when he nodded. “Look at you go!”

“Oh my god, mom.” Remus picked a new card. “Ha! This should be interesting. Who’s your favorite child? Both of you have to answer.”

Hope drummed her fingers on her knees and Lyall bit his lip. “I love you for different reasons,” he finally said. “Jules is more cuddly and outgoing than you, but you actually have an off-switch and you’re a very kind person. Yeah, it’s an even split.”

“I can’t choose,” Hope said, tapping the edge of her card on the table. “You’re my boys and I love you. That’s all that matters. Have you ever been in love?”

“Yes, I have.” A soft smile tilted the edge of Remus’ lips up and he glanced behind the camera.

“Who are you looking at?” Marlene asked. “The viewers can’t see back here.”

“Oh! Sorry. My fiancé is on a bench by the wall with the car keys.” All three of them waved to Sirius. “Alright, dad, you’re up.”

“Which parent do you like more?” He mock-frowned at Remus. “I hope you know our future relationship directly depends on your answer to this single question from a drinking game on a Wednesday afternoon.”

“Just for that, I’m choosing mom,” Remus said, laughing when Lyall cuffed him lightly on the shoulder. “In all honesty, I don’t have a favorite. Like you said earlier, I love you both for different reasons.”

“What reasons?” Hope asked.

“Dad, you taught me to cook and got me into hockey, but mom encouraged me to stick with PT and always goes the extra mile.” He rolled his shot glass between his fingers for a moment. “I just know that I’m really lucky to have you both in my life, because you’ve been nothing but supportive.”

Hope dabbed at her eye with the sleeve of her sweater and Lyall took a deep breath. “Whew. Okay. Please ask something super awkward,” he said.

“I’ll do my best,” Remus laughed. His smile turned into a grimace when he read the card and he rested his forehead on the table.

Hope nudged him with her elbow. “What, are you going to chicken out this late in the game? We don’t raise wusses in the Lupin family.”

“You have to ask it,” Marlene called.

Remus sat up and shook his shoulders out. “Dad, have you—I am begging you to drink—have you ever performed oral sex on mom?”

“Performed?” Lyall snorted. “What is this, the circus?”

Remus handed him the bottle. “Please drink.”

Lyall poured himself a shot and drank it; just as Remus was starting to look mildly relieved again, he grinned. “Yes, I have.”

“Damn it.” Remus covered his face with his hands. “I should have known you would answer anyway. Jesus. I need to sear that from my brain.”

Hope took her next card and slid the bottle to Remus. “What’s your favorite sexual position? I really don’t need to know this, sweetheart.”

“No, you certainly do not!” Remus said brightly, drinking his shot. “In fact, I’m glad you don’t want to.”

Lyall cleared his throat and took a card. “What’s something I do that embarrasses you?”

“This game is rigged to give all the loaded questions to you,” Remus laughed. “You need to figure out what you want for gifts. You always say you want nothing, and then the day after Christmas you’re pining after something you never told people you wanted.”

“I do not,” Lyall scoffed. Remus and Hope shared a look and his eyes widened. “Hey!”

“Okay, my turn.” Remus’ eyebrows rose when he read the card. “When I moved out, were you relieved or sad?”

“Oh, shit,” Hope murmured with a sniffle. “I’m already crying. Both. There was a little bit of both.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. The first move only happened for a little while when you went to college, but you moved back after the accident and that was…tough.”

“It was easy letting you go the first time,” Lyall said, softer than he had been yet. “You were ready then. The second time, we were so worried and also so proud of you for everything you had worked for.”

Remus scrunched his nose up and let out a shaky breath, leaning their temples together. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Hope whispered. Lyall ruffled his hair. She coughed lightly and took a new card. “Please be something uncomfortably sexual. Ah, bummer. If someone offered you $10,000 dollars to never talk to me again, would you do it?”

Remus snorted. “No.”

“What about $100,000?”

“Nope.”

“A million?”

“Is this an auction?”

“If someone gave you ten million dollars to never speak to me again, would you take it?”

“Holy shit, mom!” he laughed. “Do you want me to stop talking to you? Is this a hint?”

“We did good,” she said, giving her husband a high-five.

Remus narrowed his eyes. “Would you guys stop talking to me for ten million dollars?”

“No, never,” Lyall assured him before turning and winking at the camera. Remus groaned. “Our minds have traded bodies—“

“They have? That explains a lot.”

“Shush. If our minds traded bodies, what is the first thing you would do in my body?”

“No offense, but I would run as far away from mom as humanly possible. We are not having any Oedipus moments in this household. The second thing I would do is reach things on the high shelves of my house, because even though I’m five foot eleven, my six foot three fiancé insists on putting things just slightly out of reach.” Remus craned his neck to see behind the camera. “Yes, I’m talking about you. Stop laughing!”

“You don’t think the aforementioned fiancé would be curious as to why your dad was suddenly on the front doorstep?”

“I would hope you would explain what was going on when you woke up in my body.” When Lyall didn’t answer, Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dad. If we switch bodies, I need you to promise me you won’t sleep with my fiancé.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“You’re not even into men!”

“How do you know?” He burst out laughing at Remus’ shocked expression. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. The first thing I would do is go skating, because I bet your knees don’t hurt after ten minutes. Then I would go to the dentist, because I know you’re bad about scheduling your appointments.”

“He’s right!” A distant voice called.

Remus gave Marlene a disbelieving look as he drew a card. “Is this turning into Remus Lupin Callout Hour? Alright, if you could change one thing about me, what would it be?”

“Scheduling skills,” Lyall answered immediately.

“Answering phone calls,” Hope added.

Remus seemed surprised by her answer. “You told Sirius you didn’t like it when he got into fights on the ice. I was expecting the same here.”

She shrugged. “It’s kind of neat, seeing my kid get in a rumble out there. I’m very proud of you. Less proud when you start bleeding, but that’s only because you have a very nice nose and straight teeth.”

“You heard it here first, folks,” Remus said to the camera. “My mother worries more about my nose and my teeth that the fact that I’m getting beaten up.”

“I think that’s the last question,” Marlene said with a laugh. “How are you all feeling?”

“I feel fantastic,” Lyall answered.

“I know far too much about my parents’ sex life.”

“It was one question,” Hope scoffed. “I feel wonderful, for your information. These are always such fun.”

“Should we ask Jules to come next time?” Marlene asked.

“Seeing as he’s ten and knows way too many embarrassing stories about me, absolutely not,” Remus said.

“We could give him apple juice, he’d have a good time,” Hope shrugged. “I would not oppose it.”

“You’re famous now, Loops.” Lyall grinned. “The tabloids would love having your baby brother as a gold mine of information.”

“Can I sign us off?” he asked Marlene. “Please tell me I can sign us off. I need to leave, like, five minutes ago.”

“You’re depriving me of content, Re!”

“Hey, hockey fans, thanks for tuning in to Lion Pride’s Truth or Drink! I’m Remus Lupin, these are my parents, and we hope you have a great day.”

[ask-anti-cosmo]

Anti-Cosmo X reader: Royalty isn't everything

You were the princess of a fine kingdom. It was just you and your father, but he got you everything you wanted. Almost at least. You had been reading fantasy stories and myths and wanted things not possibly made by man. So one day, you demanded a slave who could do magic to grant your wishes. A witch, wizard, whatever it would take.

Your father was startled by this request, but he sent men out in search for a being that could grant you your teenage desires.

About a week or two later, just when you were just about tired of waiting, two guards came into the throne room, carrying a chain. In-between them, wrapped up by the chain, they dragged a short-ish being, wearing a blue coat, and a bag on his head.

You frowned at them, wondering what they were doing and who the man was. You hopped off your throne and came closer.

“And what is this?” You asked them expectantly.

“Y-your majesty, we bring a magical creature, he claims to be able to grant wishes, b-but…”

“Why is his face covered?” You demanded.

“W-with all due respect m’lady, this being is tricky and…well there used to be three of us. He’s very very dangerous! Maybe we should-”

He paused when hearing a snickering voice as the bag on the being’s head shook slightly. The two guards recoiled from him but tightened their grip on him.

“How did you find him?” You asked.

“You’ll never believe it, but…he appeared as soon as a cursed black cat cross us. H-he said our misfortune…drew him to us…”

“And what makes you believe he can grant wishes?” You demanded. “What is his proof?”

“T-two things actually, m’lady…” One of the men pointed to the blue man’s back. You walked around him curiously before receiving a shock. This man had black bat wing pinned to his back by the chains, preventing him from flying.

“And…the second thing?” You asked, wondering what else this man could have.

The other guard swallowed before carefully taking off a bag from his belt before tossing it to your feet.

“What is that?” You asked, unimpressed.

“My wand, my dear.”

You flinched from the sudden unrecognized voice. The two guards whimpered in fear, making you wonder. You approached the short blue man and grabbed the bag off his head.

He had his head lowered, but you could see his short messy midnight blue hair perfectly. He had a round glass piece in front of his right eye, and to your great shock, his skin was a perfect blue.

You stared in wonder for a minute before jumping back in fright as his head lifted and his piercing green eyes opened. His mouth set to a wicked grin, showing long sharp top teeth, like in the stories of Vampires.

“Oh good heavens…” You whispered.

He snickered softly. “I hear a child has been wanting wishes. A royal child.” He did a slight mock bow to you, in which one of the guards kicked his back, making him fall to his knees.

“You will respect her!” He demanded.

“Oh I plan to…” He grunted from pain. “But I cannot grant wishes like this…”

“We’re not letting you go devil!”

“I do not plan to run or attack.” He said calmly. “I love to grant children their wishes, it makes me happy to see them happy.”

“Can you really grant my wishes?” You asked suspiciously.

His grin got wider. “Of course I can my dear, I am an Anti-Fae, the opposite of those little trouble makers that play pranks instead of helping mankind.”

“Hmm. What is your name, Anti-Fae?”

“Why, I am Anti-Cosmo I can also go by AC if my name annoys you.” He said pleasantly.

“If you can do what you say you can, then grant me a wish.” You demanded.

“I would love to but-” He coughed. “I don’t breathe well like this, and there is the simple fact that…well, my source of power is in my wand.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and picked up the bag from the floor, taking out the black star on a stick inside. The guards murmured in fear, but the Anti-Fae only grinned more.

“Release him.” You told the guards.

“B-but your majesty, he-”

“NOW.” You glared at them, so they both dropped the chains, backing up quickly.

Anti-Cosmo stood up and shook the chains off. His black wings spread in a stretch and his arms as well.

He then gracefully bowed to you. “My lady, My child, my master.” He said, making you blush slightly.

He held out his hand politely. “May I…?” He asked.

You looked at the black wand in hand and hesitated before handing it to him. With that done, the guards both made a run to the door.

He took the wand and bowed again. “Make a wish my dear, I can do nothing without your words.”

You thought a second before saying. “I wish those guards were chickens.”

“Yes, my princess.” He grinned and waved his wand, making the two who ran to the door shrink down and gain feathers, becoming chickens.

You laughed and ran to them to see if it was an illusion or real. “Could it be…?” You asked, giving one of the chickens a slight boot. “You really did it!”

“Of course m’lady, I can do almost anything you wish of me.” He nodded with a bow. “But…I hope you do realize, that with such things, a price is to be expected.”

“Yes yes of course, my father will pay you what you want.”

He gave a soft chuckle. “Oh, you see, I need it from you actually. I can only receive payment from the wishmaker.”

“Oh…okay then I’ll give you your payments myself.” You nodded.

“Wonderful.” He grinned. “With proper payment each time, you may have as many things as you wish. Now then, what else do you desire?”

“Come to my room, I have books full!” You grinned and took his hand, pulling him to your room.

You wished for many things, like mythical pets and strange sounding food from other countries. Then, you thought of the best wish.

“I wish to fly!” You told him eagerly.

“I don’t even need my wand to grant that one.” He laughed and picked you up. He ran to the window, your heart pounding as his wings unfurled.

He leaped, and for a minute or two you glided through the sky. You gasped in wonder and amazement at all the sights, smells and sounds. He looked at you with a pleased expression and you two flew until twilight.

He landed outside of the castle, in a lovely open field where some cattle grazed.

Your feet touched the ground and you placed your hands on your still fast-beating heart. “Oh Anti-Cosmo, that was simply wonderful! It’s better than I imagined!”

“I am glad you think so.” He smiled and sat down. “Now…about that payment…”

“Oh yes of course! If we go back to the castle I can get gold and-”

He laughed, interrupting you.

“What is so funny?” You asked, feeling irritated on being interrupted.

“Whatever would I do with gold?” He laughed and used magic to make gold appear briefly before making go away again. “What good does it do me if I can make it myself?”

“Oh…well then, what is it you need for payment…?” You asked, now feeling uncomfortable.

“Oh nothing you’ll miss, promise.” He said and held a hand out to you.

You swallowed quietly and sat down next to him. “Um…l-listen, if it’s marriage…”

“No no, nothing like that.” He assured.

“Oh whew…” You sighed. “Then, what do you want?”

He took your hand felt up your arm. “Your crimson flowing life force.” He grinned, making you flinch and try to pull away. “Oh but where are you going? I thought we had a deal? And I simply do not have the energy to grant you any more wishes unless I receive my payment now!”

“N-no! my royal blood is blessed, and you can’t just-”

“Do you mean to break our deal?” He glared, his whole demeanor changing to a menacing terror.

“N-no of course not, b-but, do you mean to kill me??” You asked worriedly.

“Now why would I kill my lovely food supply?” He asked, suddenly cheerful again. “That would be foolish. Now please my dear, relax. Of course if you struggle any longer, I’d have to take it by force, which is fine and even pleasurable for me, but certainly not for you.”

Your body quivered with fear, but you nodded at last. “A-all right, take it quickly.” You whimpered. You thought he would just take from your hand, but he yanked you closer and bit your neck, making you cry out in surprise.

“T-that hurts!” You told him, but he didn’t seem to listen. You heard him start to drink and could do nothing to stop him.

He finally pulled away, licking his bloody fangs. “Mmm, delicious~”

“How could you say something so abhorrently disgusting?” you cried softly.

“Oh give yourself some credit dear, your royal blood is wonderful! With your good diet and all~”

“I-I want you to go away and never return! I don’t want your wishes, I…”

“Oh, oh my dear…” He sighed with a grin. “Don’t you get it? Now that you’ve used me before your life will be plagued with misfortune. You can’t afford to rid of me. You need me now. I am your treatment, your drug, your addiction.”

“N…no I don’t need you! I won’t need you!” You insisted but he shushed you gently, before pointing to the castle. To your horror, there was fire everywhere. It being stone, it only burned the belongings, and the people.

“Oops, must have been that dragon you wished up.” Anti-Cosmo giggled. “Even little ones can be such trouble. Now, what was that about not needing me again?”

[chain-unchained]

December 17

The rustic twang of country guitar played over the jukebox in the Saloon. Sundays were far from the busiest days for the establishment, but there was always a handful of regulars that would come by, and someone would always plonk a few coins into the machine. The music was never loud enough to make conversation difficult; it was just there as background ambience.

It was a familiar song to Ashe as he stepped in through the door. By this point he’d visited so many times that he knew just about every track on the old machine. And this was one that he remembered fondly; he would often listen to it with his mother. Before the illness.

“Hey, there you are!”

Emily’s smile was a mile wide as she hastened around the counter to greet him. “It’s been forever since you stopped by.”

“Emily!” The hug they shared was mutual. “Sorry, just—I’ve been so busy.”

“No need to apologize. I’m just happy to see you again.” She held him back at arm’s length to study him with a critical eye. “You doing okay now?”

“Ah—” His cheeks flushed, and he looked anywhere but at her. “Yeah. I’m better. Definitely better.”

The smile was half-forced, half-genuine, and 100% embarrassed. It felt so awkward, having so many people ask him how he was doing these last few days. The same kind of awkwardness as standing there while people sang happy birthday.

“I’m glad to hear that. Don’t start pushing yourself too hard again, okay?” She gave his shoulders a squeeze. “You’ve got people you can talk to.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Good.” With another smile she let him go. “Well then, let me show you to the back. Shane’s waiting for you.”

The blush deepened. “He is? Am I late or something?”

“No no. He just got here early. Right this way.”

She led Ashe through the short swinging saloon doors to the left of the room. His heart began to flutter in his chest; it wasn’t their first date, but… this felt different to the gridball game. He didn’t know what to expect.

They made their way down the hall and to the private dining room. A ‘reserved’ sign hung from the hook in the center of the door, which sat slightly ajar. A different song was playing through the crack; it was softer, melodic.

‘Oh no—was I supposed to dress fancier?’

A nervous thought raced through Ashe’s mind as they drew near. The music sounded almost classical, and he couldn’t help but feel like maybe he should have dressed up a bit more.

“Hey, Emily?”

She stopped and turned back to him. “Yeah?”

“Um, is my outfit okay?”

“Hmm…” She observed him again. “Do a little spin for me.”

He did, the anxiety rising at the unreadable expression on her face. It wasn’t like he’d come here in his farming best— dark-washed bootcut jeans, his lavender turtleneck beneath a white sleeveless vest, his good boots—but the insecurity was there. He couldn’t help but doubt.

After a moment, Emily’s face split into another smile. “Very cute—Shane’s going to go crazy.”

“Really?” Ashe’s face lit up at the praise and prediction both. It was a relief for a worry that he knew was unfounded. “Whew… Thank you~”

“Hey, there’s that sunshine smile! I was getting worried I wouldn’t get to see it before winter ends.”

 The private room was small, and quaint, styled much the same as the bar area. Paintings decorated the walls, and one of Emily’s own hand-woven rugs adorned the floor, upon which an aged oak table rested. The music was coming from a smaller radio resting atop a matching end table in the corner; candle wall sconces cast a warm and gentle glow upon the red hues of wood and fabric both.

Shane was already there, of course—and Ashe’s face turned several shades of tomato red as his eyes fell upon him. Though his back was to the door, it was clear that he’d cleaned up for tonight. His hair, which he’d been letting grow out, was freshly washed and styled; he wore a well-fitted, plain dark sweater tucked into new jeans, with a black leather belt. He turned his head in response to the door opening—he’d even gone so far as to shave.

“Hey, you made it…”

His own voice trailed off as his eyes fell on Ashe, and there was a moment of silence as they both just stared at each other, somewhat slack-jawed.

“Wow,” Emily looked between the two of them, “you really are made for each other. I’ll go and grab some menus and some drinks to get you started.”

She traipsed out, shutting the door quietly behind her. Shane cleared his throat, his face nearly as red as Ashe’s at that point.

“You, uh… you look good, chickadee.”

“Th-thanks.” Rubbing the back of his neck, Ashe shyly added, “you do too.”

Shane grinned self-consciously. “Heh, you think so? Kinda feels like my gut’s gonna bust through this sweater…”

Ashe tip-toed closer until he was completely leaning against him, and his voice trailed off. “You look amazing,” the farmer mumbled, his face hidden in the fabric of Shane’s chest. “I can’t handle it.”

That was enough to silence Shane’s self-doubt—or at least keep him from vocalizing it further. “Yoba, you’re too cute.” He took the opportunity to steal both a hug and a kiss from his boyfriend, lingering perhaps a bit longer thank he intended to upon his lips. “So… d’you wanna sit down?”

“Y-Yes, please.”

It was with only minor reluctance that Shane stepped away from him to pull one of the chairs out from the table. He gestured for Ashe to sit, and pushed the chair back into place when he did. All the while, he had to fight to keep his hands from shaking. It had been at least a decade since he’d been on a fancy dinner date like this before, let alone with someone he cared so deeply about. He wanted it to be perfect.

By the time he’d taken his own seat opposite Ashe, Emily had returned with glasses of ice water—lemon slices included—and two menus. “Here you go,” she said with another smile. “Take your time, and press the buzzer when you’re ready to order.”

“Thanks, Emily.”

She dipped back out the door again, and for a moment there was silence as they both skimmed the menu. “Order whatever you want,” Shane said, glancing up to see the conflicted look on Ashe’s face. “Don’t worry about prices. It’s my treat.”

“But—”

“No buts.” He grinned. “I can afford to splurge on my favorite dweeb every now and then.”

Ashe hid his blushing pout behind the menu. It was hard to focus on choosing, because every few seconds he couldn’t help peeking over the top to get another look at Shane.

“… What?” Shane caught him staring. “Did I nick myself when I was shaving or something?”

“N-No no—It’s just—” He hid behind the menu again, face redder than it had been before. “I-I never realized how good you look with long hair. Sorry, I’ll stop.”

Now it was Shane’s turn to become a tomato head. “Bud, you’re gonna give me an ego with all these compliments.” He looked through the menu a bit more. To be honest, he was in the mood for pizza, but he wanted to impress Ashe—

“Would you judge me if I said I wanted pizza?”

He lowered the menu to look at him again. There was a meek sort of grin on the farmer’s face, which he was quick to hide once more behind his own.

“Nevermind, I’ll—pick something else.”

“Actually, I was literally just thinking the same thing.” Shane dropped the menu onto the table. “Do you just wanna order a large and split it?”

“Oh my Yoba, yes please.”

So much for a romantic dinner. Shane’s expectations went out the door, and with them the hesitant awkwardness that hung in the air. It was like they both settled back into their skins, and once the 16-inch pie was on the table they dug in. No forks, no plates, just greasy slices in hand and a couple of paper napkins.

“Ahh, I’m in heaven~” Ashe practically melted into his chair. “Sssooo good…”

“Yeah, it’s been awhile since I had one of his pizzas.” A long strand of cheese stretched out from Shane’s mouth to the slice he’d taken a bite from. The sign of a quality cheese pie. “This cheese didn’t come from Hanako, did it?” He joked.

“I wish it did! She’s still just a baby though. I was kind of thinking I might see about getting a full-grown cow in the meantime—sometimes I worry that she’s lonely, being in that big barn all by herself at night.”

“What about Silva?”

“Oh, well… Silva kind of picks on her a bit. I had Robin build her a stable.”

Shane sighed. “Bugaboo, I’m not gonna lie—that horse scares me.”

“I’m not giving her up.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest that—” even though he really thought that was the best idea, “—I just want you to be extra careful with her. Please.”

The plea made Ashe deflate a bit. He picked up a strand of cheese that had fallen and nibbled on it before answering. “I will. Don’t worry, I haven’t tried to ride her yet. And I still really believe that she wouldn’t ever actually hurt me.”

“I sure hope that’s the case.”

Shane helped himself to another slice, hesitating only briefly in contemplation—it was going to be more calories to burn in the gym later—and taking a bite when he decided it was worth it.

After a minute, Ashe spoke again. “I, uh… I saw Dr. Vance yesterday.”

“Oh, that’s why you were gone. I was wondering.” Shane licked a bit of sauce from the corner of his mouth. “You don’t have to answer, but how’d it go?”

“It went… good.” The farmer began to gently rock back and forth in his chair. “A lot of talking. It was harder than I thought it would be.”

Shane could see that he was getting nervous. Wiping his hand on one of the napkins, he held it out to Ashe across the table; after a moment, Ashe took hold of it. “Yeah, it can be like that sometimes. But it’ll get better. Might not ever be easy, but better.”

“I hope so.” The warmth of Shane’s hand was comforting, and the rocking ceased after a minute. Ashe even managed to smile as he added, “I’m getting really tired of crying my eyes out already.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s part of the process.”

“Did you cry?”

“Oh yeah. More than I’m comfortable admitting, honestly.” He laughed. “So yeah, don’t feel bad about it. It’s different for everyone, and some of us just gotta cry before we can start moving on.”

“Yeah… I guess so.” Ashe shifted in his seat. “… I know I’m the one who brought it up, but… can we talk about something else?”  

“Of course. Uhhh…” A stream of air blew past Shane’s lips as he fished around for a different topic. Of course now of all times he was drawing a blank.

“You still haven’t told me what you want for Christmas.”

Shit, that was the one he was hoping to avoid. “Cos I don’t want anything. I’ve already got all that I could ask for.”

“Shane,” Ashe leaned forward a bit, a very serious expression on his face, “I’m gonna get you something. It might as well be something you actually want.”

“Oh! Shit, that reminds me. Would it be okay if Jas hung out at the farm with you tomorrow?”

Ashe blinked. “Uh—of course. Why?”

“Because me and Marnie are gonna get some shopping done in Zuzu. And both Penny and Jodi are gonna be busy, and I feel bad for all the times they babysit her already. We’ll pay you for it, of course.”

“Oh, nonono you won’t.” He shook his head.

“You sure?”

“Yes I’m sure. Use that money to get Jas an extra present.”

“Bud, believe me, she’s gonna have more presents than she knows what to do with.” Shane wiped his hands on his napkin again and took a sip of lemon water. “What about you? You haven’t told me what you want.”

Ashe went quiet. The truth was, what he wanted more than anything was something that he knew he could never get back. But… well, there was one other thing…

“I just don’t want to be alone. That… That’s all…”

This time Shane gently took hold of both hands. “Who says you will be? The Feast lasts all day, and you can hang out at the ranch with us after. Okay? Don’t even worry about that.”

“I-I’ll try.” Ashe drew a shuddering breath. The emotions had utterly blindsided him, but at least he’d managed to keep from crying… again. But he was going to end up with whiplash with how all over the place his emotions were.

“You know, there’s gonna be a big countdown in Zuzu on New Years’ Eve. Would you feel up to going?”

“… Y-Yeah.” He managed a small smile. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”  

[forkanna]

[AO3] [WATTPAD]

NOTICE: Characters/settings ©2008 Atlus. Story © me. All rights reserved. M for later risque situations and coarse dialogue. Cover art by takethesnowtrain.

WARNING: Rise's views and Ai's views on the LGBT community, and especially those of other characters in this work of fiction, do not always line up with those of the author. Please do your own research! The more you understand, the better our world will be.

CHAPTER WARNING: Bulimia.

NOTE: Happy New Year! Welcome to my particularly long and exhaustive crackship tome that literally no one asked for! What else is new, right? The first scene of this chapter is almost entirely copy-pasted from my other P4 fanfiction, "We'll Face Ourselves", though I tried to spruce it up and shift perspective so it doesn't feel like quite so much rehash. I thought it served as a nice lead-in to this story, with some added focus on the new ship. The second half of this chapter and the rest of the fic is all-new, don't worry. The "Golden" is more a reference to it being additional "dlc" for my other fic, not to me specifically focusing on Marie or any such content exclusive to P4G. Apologies if this dashes anyone's expectations but I hope you enjoy the fic regardless!

As for anyone wishing for that fic to debut... you know the one... well, all things in time. Soon, I promise. In the meantime, check me out at jxsleator dot carrd dot co !

Jessex

                                                  PROLOGUE

Once upon a time, in the quaint town of Inaba… a minstrel girl and a stubborn princess fought over a handsome prince. Very briefly.

"Can't you give me a little kiss goodbye?" the minstrel pulled back to look up into the boy's stoic face, her large doe eyes shining with tears — on purpose. She was a top notch minstrel, after all. "Something to keep me from… from dying from missing you?"

"Oh please," the quiet innkeeper muttered under her breath with a begrudging smile.

However, the prince obliged the minstrel girl with a kindly kiss upon the forehead. She was in awe of his tenderness. Right up until…

"Excuse me? What do you think you're doing, you bitch?!"

The others pulled back to see royalty approaching, hands on her hips. A truly glamorous princess indeed, even though her regal vestments weren't nearly as radiant as they had been in days past. The ever-present lacy pink turtleneck lived underneath a cardigan today rather than her school uniform.

"What is who doing?" the pouting siren protested, clinging a little tighter to her prince's arm.

"You! Little trollop!" The flawless beauty stomped over to the two of them, honey-brown waves bouncing as she got right up in the singer's face. "Take your greedy little paws off my boyfriend!"

The idol stamped her foot and snapped, "HEY! I don't see your name on him anywhere!"

The prince gulped and began to back away. "Uh…"

"Really?" the princess scoffed. "What makes you think you have any claim to him, slut puppy? He went to the festival with me — and spent Christmas Eve with me, too! And for your goddamn information, we got pretty close!"

Though the siren was comely, and manipulative toward many of the young suitors in the land, it was in playful jest; she did consider them friends but couldn't seem to suppress her womanly wiles, so she flirted for sport. Alas, the princess wounded her deeply with such words; her lip wobbled at the princess's declarations, even though that may have been for show.

"Senpai, say that's not true! How could you, when I… I let you… you know!"

"Hey, it doesn't count when I'm just sitting there and you plop your butt down on my hand," the prince said reasonably. "And Ai-chan, we hugged a little; please don't tease her by making it sound like more."

The prince's pair of suitresses were chagrined. The princess seemed a little more genuinely hurt than her rival for his attentions but neither were particularly happy with being called out.

"Whew," the flop-haired jester exhaled, wiping his brow. "Don't know how you get away with it, juggling two chicks like that."

"That's not…" The prince sighed, shaking his head as he facepalmed. "Maybe I'm glad to be leaving."

But in truth, he was not. Nor was anyone else present. As they alternately squabbled and lamented the prince's parting, other classmates and citizens of Inaba began to approach to wish him bon voyage. He really had left an impression in the short year he had lived there. When the train whistle signalled that it was about to pull away, the bickering came to an end so they could truly see their friend off. A lot of tearful hugs and well wishes were offered before the prince was inside, looking out the window at them as it pulled away from the station. They ran after him all the way to the end of the platform until they ran out of space, then stood waving after him until the train was completely out of sight.

And thus the prince's tale gave way to another. One about a minstrel who had lost her way and found it again, and a princess who had not always known she was a princess at all.

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

                                                                CHAPTER ONE

"I just… he really left," Rise Kujikawa finally sobbed now that the click-clack sounds of the train had faded into the distance.

"Geez, turn it off already," Yosuke Hanamura sighed as he clasped his hands behind his neck, pressing his floppy hair hard against his neck. They turned away to start toward home or wherever the night might take them. "You don't have to keep up the act when he's not even here."

"Act?!" She shoved him from behind, and he stumbled a couple of steps as his arms windmilled out to the sides, attempting to regain his balance. "Not cool, Hanamura! I am grieving the death of my relationship!"

"What relationship?" Kanji Tatsumi grunted.

"Boys, you could be a little more sensitive," Yukiko Amagi told them in an even, reasonable tone. She was dabbing at her eyes like everyone else, and leaning a little more heavily than usual on her best friend, Chie Satonaka, but she seemed to be maintaining her composure better than Rise could manage. "We're all going to miss him so much."

"I'm just trying to get Rise to wake up," Yosuke persisted anyway. "She's delusional. We all know Nakamura was trying to scam on that chick at the hospital."

"What?"

"You know. The nurse. Though I think she moved away…"

Kanji cleared his throat. "Actually, I… thought that woman with the kid was his squeeze. Y'know, the one that came up to him a minute ago?"

Chie squeaked, "He was doing what with who?! That's… why? Why chase a married woman?!"

"Oh, I thought it was one of you girls."

The group of them turned to blink at the girl from the drama club. "Who are you again?" Yosuke asked — very rudely, even though they were all thinking it.

"Yumi Ozawa," she said softly with a slight bow. "He gave me a great deal of help when I was dealing with my own family problems, you know. And… well, I revealed I had feelings for him, and he shut me down. Just said he wanted to remain friends, and it's hard to argue with that, isn't it?"

While Chie and Yukiko were chattering to her about that, the boys suffering through a "girly" conversation they had no interest in, the slightly jealous Rise found herself momentarily distracted. Everyone kept moving along as she slowly came to a halt, turned her white sandals off to the side, and approached someone who looked like she could use her company. Even if she wasn't absolutely sure of that.

"You okay over here?"

"Oh… no, no, I'm fine. Mind your own goddamn business."

"Wooooow. I guess that's what I get for caring, huh?"

"Wait," Ebihara suddenly blurted, standing up from the bus stop bench and taking a couple of steps toward her. "All right, I may have been unnecessarily rude. I just have no idea why you would want to talk to me when I was your rival for Narukami's affections."

"Because you looked kind of pathetic over here, all by yourself."

"I did not! I'm not 'pathetic', I'm legitimately upset that my boyfriend left!"

"He wasn't your…" But at least she managed to cut herself off with a roll of her eyes, swallowing down the jab and instead moving to hold onto Ebihara's shoulder. Tears were already rolling down the teen queen's cheeks, and her voice was tight and strangled, as if she were fighting back tears — clearly a losing battle. "He could never stay here. We all kind of knew that, and just talked ourselves out of believing it. I'm so mad! But… I have to get over it."

Clearly shocked by her more reasonable response, the prissy girl took a moment longer to respond herself. By the time she did, she was looking down toward their shoes. "Completely ridiculous. Right? I should have known better, I… ugh, I'm so pissed at myself."

"Right?!" Rise still wanted to slap her for trying to steal the boy of her dreams, but it really felt irrelevant now. So instead she tried for her most convincing smile — which, considering her previous vocation, was extremely convincing — and said, "Hey, um, why don't you try getting to know us a little better? Might as well, since you'll have more time on your hands now."

"Sounds stupid." The words came out so fraught with emotion that they were nearly unintelligible, but Rise still understood. "But I have nothing better to do, so lead on."

However, the closer they drew to the remaining group of students, the more anxious the prima donna became. Rise didn't know why exactly — and she couldn't know until Ai cleared her throat to get their attention. She could tell Naoto had been deep in discussion with Yukiko and Chie, though not what about.

"Yes?" Yukiko prompted her in mild surprise.

"I… thought I should say… I am sorry." She swallowed hard, brows furrowed. The expression still made her look angry and snobby, despite her tone of voice being gentle now; she just had resting bitch face. "Probably too late. But I was really going through some things when I sidelined you two in Aiya, and being rude is second nature to me. Can't be the most stunning girl in school without it going to your head, can you?"

"You say that like I would ever know," Chie snorted.

"Right. And… normally I would be agreeing with you and belittling you, Bowl Cu- I mean, Satonaka. I have a lot of practice." Grimacing, she growled, "Got so used to being queen bitch that it's hard to just be nice."

After a brief silence, so awkward that it felt as if any sound would have been preferable, Yukiko laid a hand on Ai's arm, gentle and reassuring. "Please, Ai-san. We all have darkness inside of us; nobody is a perfect person. So I think it's very admirable you're seeing your flaws and that you're trying to improve. I am the same, and so are my friends."

"Oh yeah?" The girl let out a wet-sounding laugh; indeed, tears were budding at the corners of her eyes. "How the hell aren't you perfect, Miss Goody Two-Shoes? I mean… I've always been so jealous of how the boys talk about you. No 'buts'."

"No butts?!" Chie burst out. "What do you mean? She's got a GREAT butt!"

Ai chuckled a little more heartily at that. Naoto was the only one who tapped her chin while noticing Yukiko's slight blush from the compliment; the others weren't paying it any attention. "No, no, not her ass. Which — fine, sure, it's fantastic. I mean like, they describe both of us as really beautiful, or hot or whatever. Same words for both of us. But with me, it always had a 'but she's such a bitch', 'but she's stuck up', 'but she's psycho' attached. Yukiko… a couple of guys said you were snooty if you turned them down for a date, but the rest of them saw through that. You're a good woman and I'm just a good-looking woman. I did so much work to be beautiful so boys would like me, but I'm just… ugly on the inside."

Though clearly, Yukiko was about to speak up, Chie beat her to the punch. "So that's it, huh? You're pathetic."

"Excuse me?"

"C'mon, Ebihara. You're made of tougher stuff than that. Where's that girl who slammed her leg up on the table in Aiya and demanded we appreciate it?"

Though the teen queen had been firing up, being reminded of that moment in the diner made her squirm and fold her arms tightly over her chest. "That was stupid. Do you wanna know why I did that?" When Yukiko nodded, she pushed ahead, "Thing is, I was a... when I was little, I was nowhere near the adorable Ai you see before you now. Fat and hideous, got told I had pig hooves. So like, I'm sure it sounds really stupid to you guys, but having dainty little feet now is super amazing to me still."

"You were fat?!" Chie demanded, looking her up and down afresh. "No way! I call bullshit!"

"Yep, a total blimp. And I got hella teased because I didn't match up with their…" What a pregnant pause. "W-whatever. Yu already knows all this stuff, but pretty much I decided to reinvent myself when I found out we were moving to Inaba. Obviously it went to my head, but… at least I'm better now. Getting better all the time."

The rest of the Investigation Team was speechless. Rise, for her part, couldn't believe the superficial teen queen actually had some substance under that lip gloss. Certainly hadn't seemed that way when Ai basically bit her head off just for being at the shopping center with Narukami. Maybe he was the one responsible. After all, the stoic boy had touched all their lives, brought about an awakening of sorts to their inner beauty that they likely would never have found within themselves without him shedding that light. It just seemed to be one of his latent talents. Unsurprising that he had done the same for the entitled fashionista.

"There seems to be only one solution for this predicament," Naoto was stating firmly with a small nod, finger tapping her chin. "We must return to Aiya to remember our departed friend, and strengthen our bonds with each other."

"Oooh, a party!" Rise piped up with an excited little bounce, despite the light drizzle that was beginning to fall. "Yes please!"

"I guess that's a plan," Chie agreed as Rise, Kanji and Yosuke joined them. "What do you guys think? We catching the portal to the meat dimension?"

Grimacing, Yosuke demanded, "Do you have to call it that every time, Satonaka?! Geesh! Sounds super nasty."

"Bet you can't even handle it."

"Wha- OH YEAH?! BRING IT ON!"

                                                               ~ o ~

"PHWOOOO! I can't even look at it anymore!"

The ragtag group of assorted teenagers, who would seemingly have nothing in common from an outsider's perspective, were all sitting back and holding their stomachs by now. It was almost painful how much meat was straining to escape the linings of their stomachs. Actually, it was painful for some of them.

"Yyyyeah," Rise groaned in agreement with Yukiko's statement, arms like wet noodles at her sides. "My… I'm pregnant… food baby…"

"Even I'm feeling it a little," Chie was chuckling as Rise staggered to her feet. "And normally I can demolish one of these no sweat!"

"Must be… getting old," Yosuke said as their voices began to fade into the background. She could hear Satonaka clapping back at him, but once the bathroom door shut she could no longer identify words, just noise.

In fact… there was a new noise filling the ladies' restroom. Not a pleasant one. Brow furrowing as her lip curled in disgust, she glanced at the bottoms of the stalls and saw a pair of designer shoes with their soles facing up.

"Is… are you okay… in there?"

"HRRK!" What a weird noise — but not nearly as weird as the sound of pronounced retching that followed. God, how disgusting! Maybe she should just backpedal out of the bathroom… but before she could act, there was some spitting, a clearing of the throat, and a strained tone calling out, "Mind your own business! Do you have to be so fucking nosey?!"

Oh no. "Wait — Ebihara?"

"Yes! And this isn't something I want anybody to…" Another gagging noise. "Ugh… you probably have an Aqua Balance on you, don't you, Risette?"

Her eye twitched. "Just because I did the commercials doesn't mean I have a bag full of them on me at all times, you know!" But she still hated to hear a girl in need, so she forced herself to continue, "Need me to hold your hair back?"

"No, I… I got it. Practice."

"Practice? Just how often do you toss your cookies?!"

Dead. Silence. When it had gone on for a few seconds too long to be normal, Rise began to sense she had broached a topic that Ebihara did not want broached. Her brow creased harder, and eventually she said in a meek voice, "I'll… go get you some water."

"Thanks."

She was so preoccupied as she hit the bar to get some ice water for the prissy girl that she didn't even comprehend the words of her friends calling out to her — though she couldn't even see Chie and Yukiko at the table anymore. The rest were probably asking her what she was doing. And what was she doing? Why was she helping this complete bitch who would never do the same thing for her? There was no doubt in her mind that Ebihara would have completely ignored her if she found her voiding her stomach in a public restroom. Might even have laughed at her. But she still remembered how distraught she looked when they said goodbye to their mutual love interest.

Maybe hanging out with the Investigation Team had revived the conscience of a jaded teen idol who had taken a brief hiatus from the spotlight. No, it definitely had done that; what was in question was whether or not the same could be said of Ebihara's willingness to open up to her peers.

"Okay, here," she sighed as she opened the door — and almost ran straight into the girl's face. "WHOA!"

"Shit!" Ai yelped as she took a step back, then patted down her chest. "You made my soul leave my body — what the hell are you doing?!"

"Bringing you water! Do you need to add a little ginkgo to your diet, Obaachan?! It's been like one minute since I told you!"

"Fuck your water! I'm gone, I don't need this!" And she actually tried to push past her.

"Wha- hey! No, you don't just get to run off like this!"

"Don't you tell me what I can and can't do, you cow! Now get your goddamn cankles and your crow's feet out of my fucking way!"

Holy shit. That was a lot of random venom. Rise knew already that she didn't have either of those things, but she still felt the sting regardless.

"I… was trying to help you, but fine. Go away." And she stepped to the side with a flip of one of her mauve-tinted pigtails. "Don't let the door hit you on the way out, brat."

What a mistake it had been to be nice to Ebihara. They were too much alike. Sure, Rise knew how to be polite, and was always warm and affectionate with her friends, but they both had the Bitch Gene and it ran strong through their veins. Ebi just led with that instead of saving it for people who deserved it.

She wasn't sure how long she had been standing there, looking stubbornly into the corner, before she felt the glass of water being taken from her fingers. She started to grab after it — instinct telling her she had dropped it and needed to catch it — until she saw Ai swishing it around in her mouth, then turning to spit into the sink.

"Oh," she breathed.

"What?" Ai grunted before she tipped the glass up again and started gulping it down. The lacy choker above her turtleneck bobbed with every swallow.

"Nothing, I just thought- I mean, did you leave and come back?"

Breathing a loud sigh as she set the glass down, she turned to glare at Rise. "Nosey. You ask too many questions all the time."

"I do not! They're really normal questions; you're just a bitch."

Her eyebrows furrowed, and her jaw tightened. Rise was absolutely positive she was about to give her a tongue lashing. But then she just snorted and shook her head, looking away.

"Wow. I don't know what I expected from Risette, but it wasn't you."

"I know," she began, making this up as she went along. "You either thought I would be completely spoiled and stuck up like you, or I would be such a goody-goody that I never had anything mean to say about anyone. Those are the two flavours of idols, right?"

Ebi smirked and pressed an open palm to the center of her chest. "I spoil myself. And I told you what I went through as a child; don't I deserve it? Isn't this my time to shine?"

"Not if it means you piss off everyone around you while shining. That's just selfish, you know. Don't you care about anyone but yourself?"

"No. Why should I? They don't care about me." Her haughty tone turned bitter. "Nobody in Inaba. Not anymore."

Most of her ire fading, she said, "You gotta put yourself out there. This whole time we've been at Aiya, you barely said a word. I actually forgot you were here until I heard you puking your guts out."

"See my point? The boys who idolize me are the only ones that remember I exist. And even them… I know they don't care about me as a person. They just keep hoping a strong breeze will show them a little flash of my panties."

"No, that's not right. I'm trying to tell you that it's your fault."

"Excuse me?"

"How are we supposed to get to know you if you just hang in the background and never say anything? That doesn't-"

"Look, I don't need to take this," Ebi sighed with a roll of her hazel eyes. "At this point, I just want to go home and be alone. Is that allowed? Or are you going to block the door again?"

Rise's lips thinned in frustration. It wasn't worth it. She didn't want to keep banging her head against this brick wall anymore. So she didn't even say a word; just turned her back on Ebi before she said something particularly nasty.

"Thanks for the water," the other girl offered shortly as she strode out through the door. And that really was it.

"At least she thanked me," she muttered to herself as she finally took her place in one of the stalls to do her business. But in the back of her mind, she couldn't help but replay those conversations over and over in her head.

Because none of that blustering truly hid the fact that Ai Ebihara was in pain. And if nobody did anything about it, Rise was almost dead certain she was heading for disaster.

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

                                                 To Be Continued…

[yoyo-inspace]

Mmmm... Top 5 hdm scenes!

all of them

Alright so there are tons of scenes in the entire trilogy that mean so much to me or that I find funny or horrifying or thrilling, etc. Had to narrow it down somehow. So I sort of settled for “scenes that stayed with me” after like, the first or second time I read the trilogy. Those that really etched their way into my head from when I was quite young. They don’t come in particular order though. I noticed going through it after I’d written it that there’s definitely a heavy bias towards moments in TAS, which I think is fair enough considering that’s the book I read last, when I was most mature, and it also has the culmination of a lot of stories - those moments wouldn’t have been half as impactful if they didn’t have the storytelling in the other books to lean on. 

This got longer than I thought, but that’s generally what happens when I talk HDM. Also, obvious SPOILER WARNING for anyone who haven’t read the trilogy. 

1. Lyra finding Tony Makarios in the shed.God, this scene. The build-up for it is amazing and absolutely chilling. There’s been build-up all throughout the book to what the Gobblers are actually doing. We get closer and closer to it. And then this chapter happens. The slow approach to the shed, the ominous but vague warnings from the alethiometer, the stories from the town’s people. You can really feel the dread creeping up on you. And then that last paragraph hits you.

The little boy was huddled against the wood drying-rack where hung row upon row of gutted fish, all as stuff as boards. He was clutching a piece of fish to him as Lyra was clutching Pantalaimon, with both hands, hard, against her heart; but that was all he had, a piece of dried fish; because he had no daemon at all. The Gobblers had cut it away. That was intercession, and this was a severed child.

It honestly gives me shivers every time. Nearly tear up reading it. I think it’s one of the best examples of how brilliant Pullman’s world-building is (and I do think his world-building is the strongest aspect of NL/TGC). I honestly don’t think this will be as strong in the tv show (and the movie really didn’t do it justice) - though I hope it’ll be horrifying - and that is because in a visual medium, we won’t get the horror and insight into Lyra’s mind that we have in the book. That’s okay, some things just fit better in the written medium, and I think this moment is going to be one of them. Lyra’s internal struggle with how to be brave is so good, and I hope they manage to portray a little bit of it on screen. 

2. Roger leaving the land of the deadIf I tear up every time I read the Tony Makarios scene, this is the scene where I bawl. Literally, I started crying while writing the passage down. The entire sequence in the Land of the Dead is intriguing to me, and Lyra telling the ghosts of what will happen to them is beautiful, and the struggle to get there is painful. And then they get there. And Will opens the window and they’re all crowding, afraid and yet excited to be out of that horrible place. And then a little ghost of a boy, the boy who was the reason Lyra set out on this journey to begin with, takes a step forward. 

The first ghost to leave the world of the dead was Roger. He took a step forward, and turned to look back at Lyra, and laughed in surprise as he found himself turning into the night, the starlight, the air… and then he was gone, leaving behind such a vivid little burst of happiness that Will was reminded of the bubbles in a glass of champagne.

That specific phrasing, the description of happiness as “the bubbles in a glass of champagne” has stuck with me for so long. It’s one I keep coming back to. 

3. Lyra leaving Pan Don’t have much to say about this other than I still have such a vivid image in my head from when my dad first read that passage to me, of how I remembered it all to look, of what I felt at the time. Especially my shock at the call-back to Lyra’s betrayal. Again, a scene that in several layers is strengthened by the world-building. We’ve been so convinced at this point how painful it is to leave your daemon, both emotionally and physically. I’m greatly looking forward The Secret Commonwealth to dig into what this did to the relationship of Lyra and Pantalaimon. 

[--] Lyra was doing the cruelest thing she had ever done, hating herself, hating the deed, suffering for Pan and with Pan and because of Pan; trying to put him down on the cold path, disengaging his cat-claws from her clothes, weeping, weeping. Will closed his ears: the sound was too unhappy to bear. Time after time she pushed her daemon away, and still he cried and tried to cling. [--] 

”Pan, no one’s done this before,” she whispered waveringly, ”but Will says we’re coming back and I swear, Pan, I love you, I swear we’re coming back - I will - take care, my dear - you’ll be safe - we will come back, and if I have to spend every minute of my life finding you again I will, I won’t stop, I won’t rest, I won’t - oh Pan - dear Pan - I’ve got to, I’ve got to.” And she pushed him away so that he crouched bitter and cold and frightened on the muddy ground.    What animal he was now, Will could hardly tell. He seemed to be so young, a cub, a puppy, something helpless and beaten, a creature so sunk in misery that it was more misery than creature. His eyes never left Lyra’s face, and Will could see her making herself not look away, not avoid the guilt, and he admired her honesty and her courage at the same time as he was wrenched with the shock of their parting.

[--] Her eyes never left Pantalaimon, who stood trembling at the shore end of the jetty; but as the boatman let go of the iron ring and swung his oars out to pull the boat away, the little dog-daemon trotted helpless out to the very end, his claws clicking softly on the soft planks, and stood watching, just watching, as the boat drew away and the jetty faded and vanished in the mist.

(Sidenote: I remember getting to the chapter titled “Lyra and her Death” and doing a big WHAAAAAT kind of face. My dad laughed at me. Either way, I find the concept of a personal Death strangely comforting.) 

4. Asriel and Marisa into the Abyss This one is difficult to quote. Because it’s the whole scene, the whole part of it, the fight - which is brutal - and the ferocity of these two people who, granted, are both absolutely awful, but they do this thing at the very end and it saves everyone. It’s one of the many things that people do at the end that saves everyone, but still. Especially Marisa, who reveals earlier that she was so afraid of exactly this type of faith, just nothingness, to make that last jump, as Asriel calls her name, and she’s roaring as they topple Metatron over, the fact that they both have each other’s daemons at their side. It’s just a very haunting scene. I don’t think the tv show (or any movie) would have been able to pull of the exact way I imagined this in my head, but I’m looking forward to seeing it all the same, and I hope that we get there. 

Instead of quoting the very end, I picked the moments just before, when they’re together again for a brief moment before Metatron arrives. It’s a rather sweet conversation, considering who’s involved, Marisa crying and Asriel comforting her. The “Dust is beautiful - I never knew” stuck with me especially. 

He took her in his arms, and the golden monkey embraced the snow leopard’s neck and buried his black face in her fur.  ”Is Lyra safe? Has she found her daemon?” she whispered.  ”The ghost of the boy’s father is protecting both of them.”  ”Dust is beautiful. I never knew.”  ”What did you tell him?”  ”I lied and lied, Asriel - Let’s not wait too long. I can’t bear it. We won’t live, will we? We won’t survive like the ghosts?”  ”Not if we fall into the abyss. We came here to give Lyra time to find her daemon, and then time to live and grow up. If we take Metatron to extinction, Marisa, she’ll have that time, and if we go with him, it doesn’t matter.”  ”And Lyra will be safe?”  ”Yes, yes,” he said, gently.  He kissed her. She felt as soft and light in his arms as she’d done when Lyra was conceived thirteen years before.

5. Lyra and Will freeing the Authority For a series that people keep harping on is about killing God, the actual death of the creature who called himself that is actually quite beautiful. It’s even a little sad. But it’s also important to me that there is actually no killing going on. All that happens, in all its unremarkable-ness - because no one else notices - is that there are two children who are kind and wants to help. And that’s what they do. 

Will cut through the crystal in one movement and reached in to help the angel out. Demented and powerless, the aged being could only weep and mumble in fear and pain and misery, and he shrank away from what seemed like another threat.  ”It’s all right,” Will said, ”we can help you hide, at least. Come on, we won’t hurt you.”  The shaking hand seized his and feebly held on. The old one was uttering a wordless groaning whimper that went on and on, and grinding his teeth, and compulsively plucking at himself with his free hand; but as Lyra reached in too to help him out, he tried to smile, and to bow, and his ancient eyes deep in their wrinkles blinked at her with innocent wonder.  Between them they helped the ancient of days out of his crystal cell; it wasn’t hard, for he was light as paper, and he would have followed them anywhere, having no will of his own, and responding to simple kindness like a flower to the sun. But in the open air there was nothing to stop the wind from damaging him, and to their dismay his form began to loosen and dissolve. Only a few moments later he had vanished completely, and their last impression was those eyes, blinking in wonder, and a sigh of the most profound and exhausted relief.  Then he was gone: a mystery dissolving in mystery.

___

Whew. There we go. More crying than I was expected, though I probably should have, considering it’s me.

Quick honorable mentions, because I’m a horrible cheat, but without explanations: Lyra in the Retiring Room, Lyra leading the children through the snowstorm after Bolvangar, Mary Malone talking to the Angels through the Cave, Will and Lyra fleeing the children of Cittàgazze, all of Marzipan, Mary Malone standing on the platform and looking through her spyglass at the dust, Pan and Lyra talking about the Republic of Heaven. 

[zelink-nalu]

Not a monster part 1

A/N: So this takes place about 2 years after Inky's "Birth" and this is basically how Tom actually realised that Inky wasn't really a monster and was actually harmless.

Also... WOW! Would ya look at that! I made fic this time! I'm also going to ask you to be gentle with me because it's the first time that I'm making a story, and since I'm already bad at writting in French, this bound to be not very good.

Now... Enough with that and let's get on with that story, shall we?

_______________________________________________

???'s POV.

Why... Why did they do this to me?

I don't understand... Did I do something wrong?

Whatever I did, I promise I won't do this again!

So please... Someone... Anyone... Please, let me out of here...

It hurts... It hurts so much.

Thomas' POV.

'Why am I the one who has to do this?' Tom asked himself for what felt like the thosandth time.

Earlier, while he was fixing a broken pipe with Wally, one of his coworkers from Gent came to him and told him that Mr. Drew needed him for something important. 'What does that man want from me?' the head mechanic thought. So he went to the boss' office to know what did he want.

"Alright Mr. Drew, what is it that you need me for?" Tom asked.

"I want you to go dow to the Main Ink Machine and visit that abomination you and the other gus at Gent create. Don't worry! I made sure that it can't harm anyone!" he quickly added when he noticed the other man's worried face. "But I still want you to check if it hasn't tried to escape and pour this on it and it's chains." Joey handed him a bottle full of a strange liquid.

"What's it for?" he asked, not really sure if he even wanted to know the answer.

"It's a 'warning'. It's too make that demon doesn't get any idea of trying to escape. I made it myself! It's a mixtur-" he stopped listening after that.

Now he was at the massive entrance of the machine. His heart was pounding from the fear and aprehansion he was feeling. He hesitated for a moment and looked through the glass at the sides of the door. He saw the ink making the silhouette of the studio's main star in one of them. The silhouette was perfectly on-model.

He took a deep breath then turned back to the door. His hand was hovering over the lever that would open the door of the demon's prison. "Don't worry! I made sure that it can't harm anyone!" Joey's words kept playing in his head like a broken record player and he couldn't help wondering, how exactly did his colleages manage that. I mean last time he checked, that creature was about 8 feet tall (maybe even taller), clawed hands and  had huge strong looking black wings with claws at each!

After a few seconds of hesitation, he finally decided to pull the lever, his curiosity getting the best of him, and entered the big room but stopped imediately in his track at what he saw.

"Don't worry! I made sure that it can't harm anyone!"

Yeah... No shit...

Now he understood how they managed to keep it at bay. The demon was pratically surrounded by chains! It was forced to sit on a throne-like chair by chains going through its shoulders, hands and feet(or are they hooves?). There were chains going around him and the chair, keeping the wings tightly folded behind it. The thing only that could move was the demon's spaded tail.

But the worst part was the shackle around its neck.

Several small bars penetrated its neck to keep the shackle in place. Tom winced at the sight. No wonder why he was hearing a ragged breathing! It must be difficult to breath properly with a blocked airway. It was a miracle the demon could still breath!

While he was approaching, he noticed movement from the creature.

It... It was trembling and flinching, from the pain of its wounds rubbing on the shackles, at the same time.

At first the man thought it because of the pain but when he noticed that the closer he came, the more the slight trembling became a horrible shaking, how it was trying to make itself as small as possible and was just a whimpering, melting, shaking mess, it was easy to see that it was from fear. Even its face showed absolute terror. Which was surprisingly very expressive for being half covered in ink.

Saying that Tom was confused would be a huge understatement. He just couldn't comprehend the fact that the demon in front of him would be afraid of an average man like him. It was clear to him that this creature could tear him to shreds if it wasn't chained. The fact that it seemed afraid of him made it very disturbing too. It meant that it was capable of feeling human emotions, which should not be possible! Hell it shouldn't even exist!

But... It -no he - does... And right now, he was like a terrified child.

'Oh god...' Tom thought when he realised something. 'He is a just a child' The realisation made him sick. This meant that they locked and chained a child. And they did that just because he wasn't perfect.

He looked back at the demon and saw that the trembling and the terrified look lessened,

and was replaced by a curious and maybe concern too. Tom really hopped that the last one was only his imagination. Because he sure as hell didn't deserve that.

The mechanic sighed deeply and was about to rub his face from the exhaustion of the day, 

until he heard a croaked whine. When he looked at where the sound came from he saw that the inky kid was back to shaking horribly.

He then remenmbered the bottle that Joey gave him. When he raised the hand that was gripping the bottle, the demon began shaking and whining more.

'Why is he so terrified of this?' he asked himself. He then tried to remember what Joey said about it. It was something about it being a 'warning' and that he should 'pour it on the demon and on his chains'. He sighed, this didn't answer his question...

His eyes widened when he remembered a part of Joey's explaination he was sure he stopped listening to.

'-it's a mixture of acetone and Holy Water. I found out that, while the acetone unfortunately doesn't kill it, it does seem to affect it! Quite painfully might I add!' he smiled with glee at that. 'And I'm sure don't have to explain the Holy Water.'

Tom felt he was going to throw up. This... This was sick!

He wanted to throw that instrument of torture as far away as possible! But he knew that the sudden movement and noise might scare the poor kid more. Besides, Joey would ask about it if he came back without it. So he decided to do something else.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you." he said softly and hopefully reassuringly, while backing away slowly. The demon was loking at him curiously and perplexed but least he calmed down a bit. When the man was satisfied by the distance, he opened the bottle and poured the content on the ground. After all, Drew would expect him to come back with an empty bottle.

Now the demon seemed so surprised that he completely stopped shaking. Tom decided that it was better this way.

He then slowly walked back to the demon trying to be as less intimidating as possible and when the ink creature flinched he stopped and said: "It's okay kid. The bad water is gone now and, like I said earlier, I ain't gonna' hurt you." After a few minutes, he took tentative step and when the demon didn't react, he walked closer until he was a feet away from him and slowly and carefully put his hand on the demon's head, between his horns. The demon leaned to the touch and even purred softly (at least as well as he could with a blocked airway) when Tom began petting him.

"You're just a big cat, ain't ya?" he chuckled. But his warm smile was quickly replaced by a frown. Now that closer he could clearly how his inky skin tried to close the wounds but ended up closing on the shakles. 'This looks painful' he thought. He then noticed that the demon has fallen asleep.

He smiled softly and decided that it was time for him to go. So he picked up the empty bottle and went back to Joey's office. When he entered the office, he had a hard time keeping his composure.

"So... Did you do it?" Joey asked with an unreadable face. Tom knew he couldn't trust his voice to not betray him, so he decided to just put the empty bottle on the table, a bit too harshly. Joey only glanced at it for half a second. Then smiled, looking disturbingly happy, and exclaimed:

"Excellent! This will your other job. Once a week I'll call you to my office and give you another bottle and you'll do the same thing as today. What do you think Tommy?" Again, not trusting his voice, he just shrugged.

"Fantastic! You can go now, you're dismissed." He said while waving the mechanic off dismissively.

When Tom went back upstairs, he was tackled by his worried wife. He hugged her but decided not to tell her the actual Truth when she asked him where he was all this time, so he just told her that Joey needed him for something related to the Ink Machine. She frowned but, thankfully, didn't question it.

Next Week he'll ask the inky demon some questions.

Huh. 'Inky' actually suits him, maybe he should call him that.

_____________________________________________

Whew! Finally done with the first part of this story!

Hope you liked it!

And a little reminder, I'm French and I'm still learning English! So if there are any errors, please point them. I promise I won't mind since I'll need that to improve my English!

So see ya in the next chapter! Buh bye!

[theycallme-tunathot]

Friends?

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader Rating: PG-13 Summary: Namjoon wants to know what the hell you two are even doing right now. Author’s Note: Whew, it was a drabble, but...things happened, I drank some wine and it turned into this monster. I hope you all enjoy! Gif credit is here (Google took me to that page...idk if this is the person who originally made the gif)

“I said I love you.”

I watched as the clock finally read 9:15 a.m. A tradition that developed over the countless nights, I woke up with the same amount of shame in my friend's bed.

I really needed a new habit—or hobby really. I knew how much Namjoon liked me, and I knew his feelings were genuine, but somehow, I only saw that as an advantage when I was feeling lonely or desperate. And with much convincing on my end, I would somehow talk him into letting me stay the night. I would ask for a glass of wine, we would talk for hours until I finally kissed him. The makeout would lead to a shedding of clothes. Our bare skin would lead to the bed and before either of us were fully aware of what was happening, we were tangled in sheets and drunk off of our lust.

And every morning after, I would wake up and stare at the clock, debating on when the best time to leave would be. It was always fortunate that Namjoon was nearly dead to the world as he slept. It made sneaking out of his apartment all the easier.

Shedding the sheets, I slowly rose out of the bed, making sure I didn't do much to disturb Namjoon's sleeping form.

I needed a shower, but that could wait until I made it back to my own apartment.  

My panties were the first thing I put on, followed closely by my bra. I was completely dressed when I headed for the bedroom door. But the second my hand reached for the handle, I heard my name hoarsely bouncing around the walls.

"Why do you always do this?"

His tone sounded so broken, but I didn't dare turn around. This was not a conversation I wanted to have in my current mental state and I didn't appreciate being called out in this way.

When I didn't answer, I heard him heave a deep sigh.

"Why do you always leave without saying anything?" He asked, this time his voice firmer. "Do I not deserve that courtesy at least?"

My eyes fluttered closed and I could feel my own shame starting to sink into my bloodstream. I felt vile standing there, unable to offer him the answers he clearly deserved.

"Are you going to just stand there?"

Silence.

"Answer me!"

"What do you want me to say Joonie?" I asked, still facing the door, my voice low but definitely not small. My pride wouldn't allow for that. "This is the way it's always been. Do you only have a problem with it now?"

I could hear him shifting in the bed. The silence drew out and for a brief second I considered apologizing. I wasn't dumb or naive enough to think I could take back any words that left my mouth, but I could apologize for my harsh words.  

Before I could fumble out my apology, Namjoon finally responded.

"I've never liked it."

His voice was softer, sounding somewhat lost in his thoughts.

Turning my head to the side, only showing him a profile, I sighed. "You never said anything."

"What could I say that wouldn't shame or burden you into staying longer than you wanted?"

"And this isn't the same thing?"

"This is hard enough without you blaming me."

"I'm not blaming you," I said, my whole body tensing as I turned to look at Namjoon.  

It was hard not to feel attacked for something I was clearly guilty of. The man sitting up in his bed wasn't to blame, but it was easy to defend myself by deflecting the guilt onto him. It helped me sleep at night and it certainly helped me stomach a look at my reflection in the mirror every day.

But none of this excused the conflict I so easily created within Namjoon. It didn't make the knowledge of his feelings any less burdensome in the long run.

I watched him closely as he ran his long fingers through his honey brown locks. These were the same fingers that knew me so well these days. These fingers that only knew me so well because of how frequently I sought him out.

This needed to end, but I was so confused as to where to start. It was so much easier to ghost for a few weeks and unceremoniously reappear. Whatever this was, I had to end it—that's what I was telling myself anyway. But as I stared at the man seated on the bed, eyes filled with humility as he forgot his pride to confront me.

I watched his right hand rise to rub the side of his face, the sleep still evident in his voice. "I fall into this trap every time. Every time I think this will be the morning you stay long enough for me to wake up next to you; the morning I get to beat you to the alarm and make you a cup of coffee and some breakfast--"

"You don't know how to cook."

His eyes sharply slashed my next thought while it sat at the back of my throat. It was look he never gave me before. His dark eyes narrowed, holding all the displeasure he must've kept bottled up every time we did this. I knew what he meant. Even if he couldn't cook, had I stayed even once, I knew he would've found a way to take care of me that next morning. Yet, I always justified my leaving as a small mercy to Namjoon. Leaving was easier for the both of us. I wouldn't have to lie again and my friend wouldn't buy into a false sense of reality or lose sight of what this really was.  

And was this anything more than casual sex between friends?

With his jaw clenched, dimples softly indenting his caramel-tone cheeks, I looked away.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you always leave? Why won't you stay?"

My eyes remained on the hamper just beside the wall. What words would comfort him right now? What words could I even use without feeling utterly guilty after spilling them but somehow console him? The truth wouldn't do that. The truth was I wasn't capable of loving anyone at the moment. I wasn't interested in starting a relationship and probably worst of all, I had no intentions of starting anything with him. Namjoon was a good guy who deserved a good person. And I wasn't a good person, clearly.

As the silence stretched, I could feel Namjoon's impatience mounting. He wanted me to answer, but at this point, I had nothing worthy of an appropriate response. I couldn't even will myself to conjure up a small lie.

Slowly, my eyes chanced a glance again at my friend. "Why would I stay?"

A humorless laugh passed from between his lips, filling the space with a feeling that clearly felt more hurt than upset. The dejected gesture left a sharp edge between the two of us, my guilt beginning to prickle up my spine and over my neck. The cool sensation did nothing to calm me. It only made me everything feel that much more hollow.

"We're both smart," Namjoon replied, pressing his lips together. Even from my spot a few feet away, I could see his eyes as his mind churned for the appropriate response. "Yet we are both make the dumbest mistakes."

My throat began to tighten as my own mind churned. I was looking for an escape, any escape would do. While I had a long public transportation trip ahead of me to get back to my apartment, that trip was far more welcome than standing here and having this conversation. His words stung like grains of salt in an open cut. Guilt was already keeping me from enjoying all of my interactions with a guy I considered my friend. But his words made the guilt seep into a deeper, rubbing the stain in as far as they could go.

I remained silent, afraid my voice would betray the notion I was going for.  

"You're dumb enough to come rushing to me anytime you feel deprived and I'm dumb enough to let you," he said, his voice airy and distant. His eyes were focused on something far behind me, perhaps his bedroom door. Shame required me to hang my head, but my pride was too stubborn and too strong. "You're dumb enough to think you sneak out of my room when I'm awake to hear it all and I'm dumb enough to hope you would actually stay."

Another blow to my pride, yet I still stood there like an idiot, unmoving and silent. It took a moment to digest his words. He was right after all. We were both idiots, but there was no mistaking who the biggest idiot was. Yet what hurt the most was realizing Namjoon watched me leave every time. The only reason I left the way I did was to protect both of us. If I left without saying goodbye, I didn't have to lie and Namjoon wouldn't have to deal with yet another lie from me. But if he was awake this whole time? It was no better than if I stayed.

His eyes flashed in my direction and I flinched inwardly. It was the first time I saw him look at me the morning after one of our nights. His eyes blazed fiercely back at me as I tried to think of something to say.

Another harsh laugh fell from Namjoon as he looked away, his eyes glossing over in a way that I'd never seen. I could hear the rejection in the breath that left his lungs in that moment. The way his eyebrows knitted together as he swallowed down something hard, something big. I could only tell because of the pain covertly displayed across his face, in his eyes.

"Of course," he said quietly. "Why would you have something to say?"

I winced. "What should I say Namjoon? What does anyone say in this situation? I'd love to know."  

He didn't respond. In self-defense, I found myself verbally pushing back. "Since you seem to have the script on this, tell me. What's my line?"

There was an air smugness about his blank expression when he turned to look at me. It was angering. It was overpowering almost every other sense I had. Worst of all, it made me feel like a child. It was almost like he was happy by my irritation and discomfort.

"I thought you just made it up as you go," he offered back.

My eyes rolled and at that very moment I could physically feel my patience waning. What did Namjoon want out of this confrontation? At the moment, it didn't seem very clear and almost looked like he wasn't exactly sure either. He was probably poking and prodding to see if he could get something valuable out of me, a phrase that would forgive the mess our friendship was undoubtedly in. He was hoping I could say something to justify what we were doing. Sadly, I wasn't sure I had that magic phrase.

"I honestly don't know what you want from me."

"Don't pretend--" Namjoon cut himself off, squeezing his eyes shut as he lay his head against the wall behind his bed. "You can't be this stupid."

A white-hot wave of indignity swept through me. This asshole. "Fuck you."

"Is it really that big of a secret to you? After all this time, it can't honestly be this huge mystery to you."

"What is this 'it' you're talking about?"

"You mean after all this time you still don't know?"

"Don't be cryptic Namjoon. If you've got something to say just fucking say it."

"Why would any platonic guy friend ever put up with you making these late night calls to hang out, drink wine just to have sex? Why would they even try talking to you after you just up and leave the next morning?" He asked, now on his feet. He was naked, just as I left him last night. It was...startling for all but a millisecond. The weight of our conversation was far too heavy, the air too thick with frustration, embarrassment and shame to acknowledge how his caramel skin glowed so warm from the sunbeams leaking into his room though the blinds.

And suddenly the urge to leave became too much. Whatever answer he had to his own rhetorical question, I didn't want to hear it. It was only going to cripple me further and I wasn't interested. Not even a little bit.

Gripping my cell phone tighter in my hand, I stared pointedly at him. "Call me when you're done with the riddles," I mumbled.

And with that, I turned on my heel and hastily made my way for his bedroom door. If I left now, I wouldn't have to hear anything that would crush me into tiny pieces. I would be paying for this mistake for a long time, that I settled on my own when I first slept with Namjoon, but I didn't want it to be today.

"I love you."

And just like that everything froze. My arm, extended in front of me, reaching toward the door knob froze in place. My feet dug into the large rug beneath my feet, also unmoving. The only that seemed to be moving in the stillness of the shock was my heart. My pulse was beating erratically--it was the only thing I could hear. As it thumped against my eardrums, rattling my nerves with each downbeat it made.

I couldn't be sure how long I stood there, but as fast as my heart was beating, I could feel the unmistakable feeling of it breaking. The way it splintered at the knowledge that this situation was far too gone. There was no salvaging whatever friendship we had before this and the damage was looking more and more irreversible with each echo of the word love.  

I imagine in any other situation, a confession like this would've made me happy. The smile would've stretched across my face as I stared at Namjoon with eyes so doe-like and full of equal amounts of love. But when had I ever been that girl with any guy, let alone Namjoon? Instead this felt like the death of something I wasn't quite ready to let go of and the severance of a friend who proved to be the better person between the two of us.

My lips trembled in an attempt to speak. What needed to be said at this point? My brain had no clue. But perhaps my heart had a few things to say.

"What?" I whispered out, barely audible in the deathly quiet bedroom. I stared at a Neil DeGrasse Tyson poster on the wall to the right of the door, unable to truly face him.

"I said I love you."

He was right, I thought bitterly.  

How could he love me? How could I love him? I'd given up the notion so long ago. And Namjoon? While he was optimistic, I can't be sure he really loved me, the girl who courted him by night and disappeared with the morning. It just didn't make sense.

"What?" I repeated.

"I love you."

"What?" I asked for the third time, hoping Namjoon would catch on to his mistake and take back his words.  

"I said...I said--"

"You're right. You really are dumb," I whispered, my vision beginning to blur as my throat constricted painfully. Trying my hardest to swallow the need to sugar coat everything and lie to Namjoon enough to leave the room, I shook my head. Lying wouldn't help at this point. Inhaling through my nose, I let my fingers latch around and grip the door knob before turning to look at Namjoon. "No one with at least one functioning brain cell would say what you just did. And if by chance this is your genuine feelings, you're even dumber than you give yourself credit for."

My words were sharp, my glare sharper. I could tell he was uncomfortable and this wasn't the reaction he prepared for. The way his entire face softened, almost turning childlike right before my eyes made me want to stop, but I couldn't.  

"Is it something I did? Something I said maybe?"

Namjoon was asking as if there was a logical reason for why I said everything I said. As if I could scientifically walk him through each process my brain went through to form that response. And maybe that's why my heart broke even further.  

I shook my head, calling mercy on myself as I looked toward his closet, vomiting various articles of clothing. I breathed in through my nose, my eyes traveled. I decided to take in the very ordinary scent of Namjoon's room. It didn't have a bad smell, but it did smell like an old apartment—somehow the wallpaper spackle could still be smelt though the white background aged to a barely-there yellow.

"Good luck on that presentation today," I said, forcing myself to smile and twist the door knob all in one go. Pushing the door open I hesitated only for a moment. "You don't deserve someone like me. Set your sights higher, trust me."

I stepped through the door, my back fully facing Namjoon, all traces of the smile immediately washed away.  

As I began closing the door, I caught Namjoon's voice, mumbling to himself but too loud to go unnoticed.

"But I love you."

If you would like to request a drabble, here’s the original post where you can leave me requests until September 30.

[mysteryfanfictheatre3000]

Back to the Frollo, Chapter 9

Warning: Poor Quasimodo gets dragged into this now.

"Hey, Quasi", as I reached for the little hand-carved wooden figure of what looked like General Grant. "Grant's beard's a little too bushy. He's starting to look like Gabby Hayes." "Gabby Who?" replied Quasimodo blankly. "Never mind. Here, look at the picture. Are you sure you want to do this? It's a lot of work", I said as I handed Quasi a picture book of the Civil War.

Why does Quasimodo care about a war that hasn’t happened yet in a country that hasn’t been founded yet on the other side of the world that in no way affects him?

I had been spending a lot of time in the belltower of Notre Dame ever since that first, botched encounter with Claude Frollo. I felt really bad about going off on him those few days ago, and I never told a soul about our meeting. I just figured that if I stayed out of his way and kept my mouth shut, things would cool off and maybe we could try to be friends. I went to Notre Dame the day after my encounter with Frollo. It was there I met Quasimodo, the cathedral's bellringer. I was immediately struck by his sweetness and gentleness; I was not put off by his deformities. Quasi showed me his belltower home, and the miniature city and townspeople he carved himself. I complimented him on his talent and he seemed fascinated by my interests as he noted seeing me in the square with the kids.

Awww, it’s just like his first meeting with Esmeralda! Except Esmeralda was actually a decent human being and not a racist bigot with a Frollo fetish. The opposite, actually.

I soon found myself lugging American literature and history books up the steps leading to the belltower. For several days, I enthralled Quasi with stories of the Civil War, American folk heroes, the Underground Railroad. He especially liked the African American folktales of John Henry and High John the Conqueror. He decided he wanted, as a gift to me, to carve a Civil War battle scene, complete with Lee, Grant, and Union and Confederate troops.I thought this was weird but I indulged Quasi.

He’s just using his artistic talent to carve you a present. That’s just sweet, not weird. Your crush on Frollo is weird. Also, is Quasimodo the one reading those books? Because seeing as he was still learning the alphabet in his 20s, and its set in a time when most were illiterate anyway, I doubt he can read. Phoebus probably did- he was a male in a position of power. Esmeralda seems to be pretty smart and knew lots of stuff that wasn’t common knowledge at the time (after all, she could swim and give stitches) so she probably could too (if not she probably picked it up fast from Phoebus.) I’d say they might have taught Quasi, but they seem to have vanished off the face of the earth, so who knows?

"I don't mind doing things for people I care about", Quasi said, as he painted a newly carved figure of Abe Lincoln, "When you're stuck up here alone, you have nothing but a lot of time, so might as well do something to keep yourself occupied...and happy." He smiled as we wrapped another day's activities. I didn't want to stay too long as Quasi expected Claude Frollo any time. My visits with Quasimodo always ended with me hastily exiting as soon as Frollo entered the cathedral. I hated doing this and so did Quasi. He told me how Frollo 'adopted' him when Quasi's momma didn't want him.

…no, he brutally murdered his mother and then tried to drown him in a well.

"Frollo took me in when no one else would. But he's very strict about me leaving the belltower, or having visitors." "Well, Quasi, maybe it's best that I don't hang around when he comes to see you. I surely don't want to get us into trouble." I packed up some books, hugged Quasi goodbye, and started down the tower steps. Whew! Frollo's not expected for a least another hour, and this time I didn't have to rush. My thoughts were then focused on Quasi's mini-battleground. I suppressed a giggle as I wondered what Frollo would think of all those tiny cannons and rifles, and little soldiers in blue and gray. I told Quasi to keep it hidden where Frollo wouldn't discover it.

Hide an entire model battleground? How?

I had to take my shoes off because all those steps and high heels were a dangerous combination. Just a few more steps and you're home-free, I thought as I juggled shoes and books. I was within three steps of the ground floor when I dropped my shoe and a couple of books. I made it to the bottom and, as I sat down to put on my shoes, a tall figure approached me. He picked up my books and looked at the titles. "Interesting. 'The Speeches of Abraham Lincoln', 'The Civil War'". He knew enough English to pronounce the words exactly. "Such intellectual pursuits for one so beautiful."

How can he read modern English? Even if he could read it then, the language has vastly evolved in 600 years. And this is set in France. 

I looked up and found myself staring into the eyes of Judge Claude Frollo. Oh no, I thought, he's going to arrest me for sure, probably for visiting Quasimodo. "I like reading New World history", I hastily explained as I took back my books and placed them in my bag. I expected him to laugh and tell me that my country was too young to have any kind of history, but he didn't; instead, Claude Frollo knelt down and assisted me with my shoes. I tried to protest but he smiled at me so sweetly, his hands cradled my foot so gently, I couldn't say a word.

Oh my god. And so the immense OOC-ness begins…

He spoke softly, "You should be careful wearing such shoes as these." He looked me squarely in the eyes and said, "We don't want you seriously injured. By the way, Mlle. Wood, if I offended you..." "Offended me?", I wondered. "Oh, you mean what happened a few days ago...No, Minister Frollo, I'm the one who should apologize. I had no business going off on you like that."

And you had no business going off on Romani people like that, either.

Claude Frollo smiled again as he helped me to my feet. "Well, no matter. What's done is done. I still watch you at play with the children. I'm still intrigued by you. Now that I've espied some of your reading material, you arouse my curiosity even more..."

Because he cares so much about Abraham Lincoln.

Then Frollo's voice trailed off as he drew closer to me. He still looked me straight in the eyes as if he were searching for something inside me. "You were up in the belltower, visiting Quasimodo", he said, at last with certainty, his eyes never wavering from mine. "Quasi is my friend. He likes me to read to him. He's fascinated by New World history and literature. He likes poetry and folktales the best. I hope you don't mind me coming to see him." I wondered if Claude Frollo would suddenly become angry that Quasi and I had become such close friends. What was to come next proved me right, for Claude Frollo continued to gaze into my eyes and coolly said, "Quasimodo is 'different'. I don't want his head filled with ideas that may give him false hopes."

“You are deformed. And you are ugly.” -Frollo to Quasimodo

How can he do this? How can he stand there, be so sweet and attentive one moment and then turn into the Ice King the next? I was beginning to believe all the rumors about Claude Frollo's cruel coldness, that he was too wrapped up in himself to even notice what people actually think of him. I shot him a long, hard look and, in my best 'sistah-with-a-tude' voice said, "I don't think Quasi is as 'different', as you make him out to be. You're selling the poor kid too short. I'm just trying to make his day a little brighter, that's all. As for 'filling his head with ideas', so what? New ideas aren't going to hurt him! If you ask me, reading a little Lincoln or Frederick Douglass is not going to turn Quasi into a raving radical overnight! I don't see why you're so fired-up mad about me spending a little time with him."

A.) sistah-with-a-tude, really? and B.) Quasi’s like 20-something. Probably your age. He’s not a kid.

Claude Frollo immediately lashed out at me. "Have you forgotten my warnings? You shall pay dearly for your insolence. How I rear Quasimodo is no concern of yours!" He reached out as if to grab my arm but I quickly stepped back. "Minister Frollo, is it true you can't arrest me here?", I announced in a raised voice. Some of the priests and parishioners heard me as I continued my little routine. "Yes, that's right! I heard the Archdeacon tell someone that once they're granted sanctuary, you can't touch them. So you know what? I'm going to sit right here and there's nothing you can do about it."

“I’m a whiny child who will continue to taunt powerful figures of authority for no reason regardless of the consequences on myself or others.”

Minister Frollo glared hard at me and started to say something, but I quickly continued my tirade, "And where you get off being so nice just to cut me down. I don't know what your problem is but it's just not right. I thought we could be friends but I guess I was wrong." I sat down on the stone floor and glared up at him. Claude Frollo stared right back at me, his eyes registered a curious mixture of anger and - pain. Yes, pain. It was more than just humiliation - I think I actually hurt him with my words. I did it again! I let my mouth get the best of me, and now I just may have lost a potential friend. Momma always told me my mouth would get me in trouble, and it did. Just before Frollo turned to ascend the belltower steps, he knelt down before me and said in a surprisingly calm voice, "I don't believe in 'second chances'. If I had my way I'd arrest you here and now. Unfortunately I have no authority here." He gently stroked my cheek. "But somehow I cannot see your glorious honey-brown skin spoiled by whip marks, or that beautiful neck snapped in a hangman's noose."

Funny, because it sounds to me like Frollo actually enjoys imaging women he likes but can’t have being hung, murdered or mutilated. Evidenced by him cornering Esmeralda, groping her, sniffing her hair and telling her he’s imagining a rope around her pretty neck. And praying to Mary to let him burn her alive. And crushing her leg in a vice. And trying to rape her.

His voice softened to a whisper. "Oh...Danisha, my dear, you have the most beautiful brown eyes." I didn't know what to think of this sudden change in mood. I looked at him with surprise and confusion. "Minister Frollo...what are you saying?" Claude Frollo gently held my hand and fingered a lock of my hair. "I am saying that I am letting you go. I can't believe I said those words, but there's something about you..." He stood up, quickly composed himself and, in a commanding voice, said, "You have been warned, my dear. Those who disregard my authority will clearly pay. Now, get out of my sight!" I blinked as he left, but I wasn't mistaken; Claude Frollo had given me a quick wink before heading up the belltower steps. And was that a slight smile I detected? I didn't know what came over him but it got me off the hook. Of course, I still had the rest of June and all of July in Paris: was this town big enough for the both of us?

If you quit being an awful, stupid person, it would be.

As I walked out of the cathedral, I lifted my eyes heavenward. Oh please, I prayed, let the rest of my vacation be without mishaps...and please don't let Claude Frollo be mad at me any more.

* * * * * * * Claude Frollo stood on the parking deck and stared out across the canal. "I was very angry with you and I had every intention of punishing you", he said as I unlocked the car door. "But I couldn't bring myself to..." His voice quavered as he embraced me; I could feel what I thought were tears. "Claude," I whispered softly. "Are you OK, baby?" Claude looked into my eyes, almost the same way he looked at me that day in the cathedral. "Danisha, my dear, I fell in love with you the moment I saw you. And even though you maddened me with all your...sassiness... I like that word." Claude sweetly kissed my lips and continued. "At any rate, we managed to forgive each other and become friends...and much more." He kissed me again.

And an annoying flash-forward to their cheesy modern-day relationship!

"Claude, you forget that I almost left Paris for good because...", I started to clarify a few key things when Claude Frollo interrupted me. "Now, my love", he laughingly said, as we got in the car, "the entire 'incident' wasn't all that disastrous. You admitted your guilt and I reacted. That is all." "You 'reacted' all right, sugar", I said while starting the engine. Then, in a quieter voice, "I didn't know what to think. I was confused, angry. All I wanted to do was get out of Paris and forget we ever met."

If I came across Claude Frollo, I’d probably try to get out of there too. Mostly because I’d be worried about being raped and/or murdered.

Claude leaned over and kissed my cheek. "I'm glad you stayed. I don't know what I would have done without you..." He kissed me again, then leaned back, smiled broadly. "Well...no matter. We're together now." He pursed his lips in an imaginary kiss and in his deepest, sultriest voice, asked, "Now, my sweet darling Nisha, where to next?" I smiled back at him, returned the 'air kiss' and said, "Do you like spiced apple cider and gingerbread?" Claude Frollo grinned and ran his tongue over his lips saying, "So much spice in one weekend. Sounds oh-so delicious." I giggled softly and kissed his lips.

Does he even gave a concept of what gingerbread is?!

As we travelled northward towards Lilly Orchard, Claude once again reminded me of an unforgettable incident that nearly ended a special relationship.

Was it the murder and the genocidal tendencies and the rapey undertones of every interaction he has with Esmeralda? Probably not, it’ll probably just be another stupid, mundane thing made up by the author for no reason other than to drag this thing on longer and make me want to jump off a bridge more.