#but I hope you are enjoying the winter spirit nevertheless

[toyybox]

I still remember those woods outside her house.

[netherfeildren]

FEAR OF GOD : Chapter III : Your bitter heart, heals my heart

Series Masterlist ; Moodboard

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC

Summary: The damp dew of morning, as dawn broke across the sky the next day, had taken on a biting frigidness, and with it everything was different.

A/N: Let’s play spot the Fiona Apple reference 😁

I’d planned to wait until Sunday to post, but I just couldn’t help myself. I love this chapter a lot. I hope you guys do too. The song Good Guy by Julia Jacklin fits it quite nicely, I think.

Art is Rotting Plums by Rachel Bess.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: character death; brief, non-graphic descriptions of illness; discussions of grief; internal angst; rough sex; choking; brief impact play; after care; soft! Joel™️

Word Count: 6.4k

Read on AO3

CHAPTER III : Your bitter heart, heals my heart

Something in my soul was rising, rising, ceaselessly, painfully, and refused to be still.

-Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Notes from Underground

The mystery of Teddy continued and his health worsened. There were no objective indices of a malignant source to explain his symptoms, and yet, nevertheless, they persisted, intensified. The boy was fatigued, withdrawn, sensitive, losing weight, prone to bouts of what could be characterized as a cold or flu. You and Connie suspected the worst, but there was not much to be done to prove your theories without imaging or blood tests, not readily available to you. The best you could do was manage the child’s state symptomatically, and hope for the best until a more concrete plan was assembled. 

-

One night in late October, you and Connie decide to bid farewell to the passing fall with a consolation dinner. The months of Teddy’s ongoing illness had fallen harshly on both of your shoulders and spirits were low. The air outside had taken on the true chill of deep fall, the threat of winter near. You were worried the cold would bring tragedy with it. The child’s constitution was weak and despite good shelter and food and the two of you caring for him, winter was harsh and difficult to endure, even at one’s strongest.

Joel had gone on a good hunt earlier that day and had brought back a nicely sized rabbit. He’d refused to join you and Connie for dinner. Withdrawn and sullen throughout the day, he’d told you to enjoy your evening with a soft kiss pressed to your mouth, before he’d wandered off. You could picture him now, sitting on his porch, guitar in hand, drink at his side, brooding at whatever was plaguing him. The image chafed. His inability, or lack of desire, to tell you what was wrong hurt. 

You and Connie talked shop over your rabbit and greens, roasted potatoes in garlic and sage, and the braised plums Dina had brought you a few days before. It was a lovely meal, a veritable feast, lit by the warm candle light of the beeswax sticks Maria had traded with you. He told you about his wife, stories you’d heard dozens of times, that he never tired of repeating and you never stopped wanting to listen to. Stories of his training, the toils of residency, the great accomplishments of fellowship. Your favorite ones were of when he was younger, in his twenties, young and fresh and ravenous to learn everything he could. Eager for freedom and experience and knowledge. To hear of his life was to know him, and you loved nothing more than learning about the man who had become your greatest mentor and friend.

Connie died in his sleep that night. After you’d finished the last of the scavenged wine, he laughingly said he’d had it for years, and had been saving it for a special occasion – that now felt as good a time as any – like he knew this would be the last chance. He’d said good night to you, gone upstairs to bed and passed away peacefully. The damp dew of morning as dawn broke across the sky the next day had taken on a biting frigidness, and with it everything was different, would forevermore be different. For how could anything continue to exist as it had when the man who had given you a vocation, who had shared with you the greatest gift in his arsenal, his knowledge, was gone. It was a devastating blow for you, for the whole of Jackson. Beth and your parents took up space in your mind constantly in the days that followed, the memory of them a heavier weight than you usually carried. Their lives and their deaths, a constant loop of replay behind your eyelids at night, in your dreams. But you trudged on. Tried in vain to smother your grief as best you could. Hide it from Joel and Maria and Ellie and all your considerably disconcerted patients. 

The weight of the wellbeing of an entire community, that you dearly cared for, now rested on your shoulders, and the responsibility was a formidable and daunting one. Sometimes, you wished you had it in you to rid yourself of the whole thing. To wash your hands of it. Too gripped by the terror of failure and inadequacy to hold on to your courage. Your fears called forth Connie’s past words, how you’d not chosen this for yourself, would not have chosen it if you’d been given another option. But those moments passed eventually, and you did what you must, what was necessary. However great the burden of responsibility felt on your shoulders, you had no choice but to bear them as you may. Choices, always choices; more than conviction of character, more than desires, or hopes, the choices you made were what determined who you were. 

And then there was Joel. Joel who understood this grief of a lost loved one better than anyone else, who understood you better than anyone else. He’d taken your despair in stride, planted his feet in the ground and said to you with every action, every comforting embrace, every night where you cried yourself to sleep in his arms, in his bed, when you sought out the distraction of his mouth and his hands and his cock, with all of it he told you: here I am, use me as you will. Let me help you carry this burden of grief and responsibility, and if you cannot carry it at all, then I will carry you. And he did, with everything he did, he eased your pain. It was like he could read your mind, your heart, as if he’d studied that intrinsic understanding that had always existed between you and Connie under a magnifying glass and applied himself to taking it on himself, doing the same. 

You loved him so much in that time of painful grief after Connie – felt the weight of it so poignantly within your heart, it was like a second presence you carried inside your body now, a second soul. His fist wrapped tightly around your heart, your very life blood held in his hands – his to wield as he chose. It was a terrifying, maddening ordeal, that of losing everything you were to a man. Of giving it to him. And yet, you saw your life in the strangest new light now. What did it matter if the world was vast and cruel and terrifying, if you had him? Very little, it mattered very little. 

-

“Birdie.”

You’d been hunched over your desk for the better part of the afternoon. Late into the evening now, and you were still at it, only a small desk lamp illuminating the strewn catastrophe of papers and books in a wash of warm light. Your eyes stung, your back aching and strained. You couldn’t remember the last thing you’d eaten. “You’re back…”

“How’d it go today? How long’ve you been in here, baby?” You knew that stern tone. You listen to him set down something heavy on the table by the door but don’t turn, too caught up in what you’re currently reading.

“Teddy’s bad again…” you murmur, “There’s – I – I can’t figure this out. It’s driving me insane. If – if I knew more or – or had more equipment…” you trail off. “It’s bad… This is impossible with so little at my disposal.” Your hands clutch your hair, hunched over one of Connie’s old journals, one you’ve read probably a hundred times. “Something’s fucking wrong…” you mumble under your breath. He was weaker and weaker every day. The bruising you’d first noticed a few weeks ago appeared more often, and you had a pretty good idea as to what it was that was wrong with him, but you were terrified of sharing your fears with his mother. Of being wrong. You told yourself you couldn’t be certain without proper testing. That until you’d found something beyond textual evidence to support your theories, that you should keep your conjectures to yourself. After all, if you were right, there was nothing to be done, but keep him comfortable. You told yourself that to hold off was the right thing to do, but you weren’t sure. Had never been in this position before. And alone, with only yourself to count on, with no one to consult with who had experience in something like this, there was only your gut to follow. It was Joel, who’d ultimately soothed your anxieties. He’d said that if it was him, if it was Sarah in this position, the threat of an incurable cancer plaguing her and no sort of cure or treatment closely available, then he’d not want to know the truth of it. The closest FEDRA outhold was hundreds of miles away, and Teddy would never survive the journey – not with the cold of winter starting to set in, he was too weak, too fragile, being eaten alive from the inside out. You felt so fucking useless, so desperate and hopeless, and you didn’t know what to do besides make him comfortable, try and be there for Susanna as best you could. And she knew, she knew something was interminably wrong with her child. She knew you were at a loss, beyond your depth of resources. You could see the understanding and resignation start to settle in her eyes as the days passed. 

“C’mere, Birdie. Come look at this.”

You’re still murmuring to yourself, lost in thought, but you turn to him suddenly, and the look on your face – you feel so young, so lost – “If Connie was here it’d be better–” you say. And you feel so angry at your father suddenly. This is all his fault. He cast you into this role before you’d been old enough to have the sense of foresight to understand all that would come with it. Angry at Connie, for furthering it, for dying, for leaving you alone. Your eyes fill with tears, and he comes over to you, cradles your upturned face in his palms, your fingers twisting in his clothes. “Joel–”

“I found something for you – come see.” He says it so gently, pulls you from the chair, strong hand cupped around the bend of your elbow. Your legs feel as shaky and weak as a newborn fawns, and your vision swoops, dark stars appearing behind your closed eyes. “Head rush,” you whisper. 

“Damnit, Birdie. When was the last time you ate somethin’?” You clutch at his arms tightly as you feel your balance stabilize. 

“I– it’s okay… I’m okay.” 

You turn towards the table then, and sitting on it is a microscope. You turn to look at him, wide eyed, your threat of tears from before immediately becoming reality. “Where did you find that?” 

“There’s a house about five hours west. Me ‘nd Tommy decided to check it out. Someone had a whole damn laboratory in the basement.” There’s a small duffle sitting next to the machine. “Don’t know if it’ll work, if it’s any good to you, or– or if you even want it… I brought all the other stuff I thought went with it–” he unzips the bag, peers inside. “Not sure it’s what you need… if it’s any good. But I thought–” He’s ranting, tongue tripping over his own words, and there’s a fierce blush washing over his cheeks. “I just–” he sighs, “I just saw it and thought of you. Thought it might be something you’d like or find interesting… Something to distract you.” And he’s so endearing and so sweet and so understanding and you’re pressing yourself to him, tears spilling. His breath whooshes out in a small huff with the force of your chest thumping against his, your arms sneaking around his neck like vines, feet scrabbling against the floor, stepping on the toes of his boots to boost yourself up higher, press harder. Your heart, your heart, it hurts, it pinches and burns, and oh, you love him.

He is undoing you.  

His hand weaves through the long threads of your loose hair, presses your streaming eyes and hot face to his neck. You mouth messily at the skin of his neck, too overwrought for words. Trying to convey everything you’re feeling in this moment into his skin through the press of your own. And you know, with the gentleness of his hands over your hair, your face, your back and waist, that he knows, he understands.

“I knew you needed something – hoped this could help in some way.”

Thank you, thank you, thank you, you breathe into his neck. 

This small action, him going out on patrol and bringing back something for you, seeing something that reminded him of you and hauling it all the way back here, just to make you happy, just because he thought it might entertain you – it’s everything. To know that he knows how much this would mean to you, how much this would help you, how much you needed this – it tells you more about the state of the two of you now, in this moment, than anything else that has transpired before. 

You hug yourself closer to him, wet face soaking his shirt and he just holds you, let’s you bask in him. And his tallness and warmth and aliveness — it makes you forget that cowering animal you’d felt like these past few days. He brings back to life your own warmth, your own aliveness, pulls out of you the desire to share it with him. It’s like a damn breaking, a rush of despair and love and grief so overwhelming it punches the air out of you. 

Gasp escaping in a loud, breathless sob,“I’m alone, I’m alone now,” you press your hot eyes into the space beneath his jaw, “I don’t have anyone anymore. Connie, Connie – I – I don’t – don’t know h– how–” It’s uncontrollable, breath hitching and hiccuping. Somewhere in the rational recess of your mind you know you shouldn’t be telling him all this. That maybe he doesn’t want to hear it, or maybe even more unlikely, that it’ll hurt him to hear you claim this aloneness. That being without Connie now was almost like being without Beth – out there, in the wilderness, alone and desperate; that facing the responsibility he’d left you with felt like that vast wilderness from before. That without him you felt so, so lost. Your anchor to this world, your guiding light, your friend, your teacher was gone; and even with Joel physically beside you, the encroaching sense of familiar loneliness was overwhelming. You couldn’t help it. Couldn’t swallow this hurt. It was too heavy to be repressed. 

You pull back to take in his face and he splays his hand over your cheek, gently brushes away the wet under your eye, your bottom lip, the delicate wing of your cheekbone – his eyes: concerned and grave and slightly lost – like you’re breaking his heart, like he’d do anything in this moment to bear your pain for you. You look at him and think of all the times he’s pushed you away, held you at arms length, refused to let you in. The small hurts and the pinch of your heart in the space where you hold him inside of you, your recurring thought that: I know none of this will matter in the long run — but while we’re here — I want you to love me. 

But with this, with this, he was showing you. He was telling you with his actions, with his pain and concern for you: I know of the things you need, of the things you want, and I’ll try and give them to you the best I can. I’ll try and take care of you the best I can. This is me trying; this is me telling you, I love you. 

“You’re not alone. I’m here, Birdie. I’m gonna take care of you. I promise.”

You push your face into his large, warm palm, nuzzle the rough skin, and you wonder what will become of you if you cannot be close to him anymore — if he were to one day take himself away from you. Because you know that’s the only way this would ever have a chance of ending, if he were to decide to leave, to go away some place he’d not allow you to follow. Nothing else would ever rip you from his side. 

“Thank you,” you whisper into his palm, press a small kiss to the center of it. 

“Hell, baby. If I knew the damn thing’d pull this reaction out of you I’d have left it where I found it.” You laugh a watery little laugh. And you think that it really does feel like the world’s ending, a terrible thing, when you feel the love you have for someone settle within you, when you realize the depth of it. 

You press up high on your toes, seeking out his mouth, a kind of frantic buzz filling your limbs as you reach for him. You twine your arms around his neck and your fingers into his hair. He understands you and he’s here and he’s going to take care of you and you love him so much. None of the things that had been plaguing your mind these past few weeks, none of the anxieties matter in this moment. Just the feel of his warm skin, his rough hands passing over your clothes and then gripping, twisting in the back of your shirt to press you up higher. He peppers open mouth kisses to your cheeks, your jaw, sucks on your neck sharply. “What do you need, Birdie? Tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you.”

You can’t think, can’t put into words this frenzied desperation you’re feeling. All you can do is claw harder at his clothes and hair, try to climb the length of his body, get as close as you possibly can. You let out a high little whine, and he winds his fingers through your hair, grips tight and gives a sharp tug. “Need me to be the only thing in that pretty head right now? Huh?” He jerks your head back sharply, exposing the vulnerable column of your throat. His teeth latch onto the delicate line of muscle there, and you’re sure he can feel the rapid fluttering of your pulse against his tongue, a staccato of morse code telling him all your secrets, can taste the distressed need seeping out of your pores. You try and hitch your knee around his hip, grind your aching cunt into him. You can feel your arousal seeping into the gusset of your panties, and you claw at his back to try and find purchase, to rock yourself harder into him. His mouth moves down to the soft junction of your shoulder, and his bite there is harsher, claiming. You’ll have a red blossom of a bruise there tomorrow you’re sure. “So fucking desperate for me, baby.”

His words make something satisfied coil low in your belly. Yes, yes, you moan. You’re glad he knows. You want him to feel how much you need him, how much you want him. You want your desperation to incite his own. You want, need, him to need you as much as you do. He’s clutching your ass then, fingers squeezing your flesh tightly and hoisting you up into his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist, lick into his mouth as he walks the two of you towards the sofa against the wall. 

He lets your feet drop to the ground and sits heavily on the couch, knees spread wide and he’s ripping your leggings down your thighs without preamble, clasping the bend of your knee to slip your shoe off and pull the fabric of your pants and underwear off one foot. He pulls you onto his lap then, and you’re clawing at his belt, pulling his already hard cock free of the confines of his clothes. It’s late into the evening now, but anyone could walk in at any moment. Nancy had gone out earlier, but she could come back, come looking for you. None of that matters right now. All you can think about is getting him inside of you now, now now. He grips the back of your thigh to spread you wider across his lap and fists the base of his cock, jacks it once, twice.  The tip is gleaming with precum and flushed so red it’s almost purple – your mouth waters at the sight of it. He hasn’t even touched your pussy yet, but you can feel how soaked you are. Your sex tight and aching, and you wrap your own hand around him, pressing up a little higher on your knees to position him at your entrance, and then you’re sinking down, down and you both let out twin ragged groans of relief as you take him inside of you, watching the place where he disappears inside. It’s too much, painful, without having him make you come before, and exactly what you need. His eyes on yours are wide, as if he’s shocked. As if, even after all the times the two of you have done this, he still can’t believe it can feel like this. His neck is flushed red, you can see the hammering of his pulse in the thick vein of his neck, and it makes the walls of your cunt flutter in response. You’re going to come already, just with this. Just at the feel of taking him within you, your orgasm is there. You start to throb and pulse around him and your womb clenches and twists tight like a cramp. “Jesus fucking christ,” he grits out through clenched teeth, large palms gripping your ass to start to move you. And you’re orgasming fully now, cunt clamping down hard around his throbbing length. “Shit, shit–” you bury your face in his neck, tears, a slow, uncontrollable stream from your eyes at the intensity of it, “you’re coming already – Christ– you’re coming already.”

He starts to thrust his hips up into you, the blunt head hitting deep at the mouth of your cervix. “Good girl – good, fucking take it.” All you can do is moan and sob into his neck. Nothing will ever feel like this. Nothing else in your whole life will ever be as good as this is. He’s subjugated you with the feel of his cock pounding inside of you, and if you weren’t in love with him, you’d probably resent him for it. For having such a hold over you. No one person should have this much power over another. You yank on his hair hard. There is a fist around your heart in the shape of him, and it fucking hurts, and you want more and less, all at the same time. 

“Harder, please, harder,” you whisper into his ear, let it slide through him, over him. And then he’s flipping you over, your entire weight cradled briefly in his arms as he presses your back into the cushions, and spreads your knees wide, one hooked over the back of the couch, and the other held open by his hand. “You want it harder, little bird? Want me to wreck this cunt?”

“Want it to hurt. Make it hurt, Joel, please.”

Your words set off a deep red flush in his chest that crawls up his neck and into his cheeks. His eyes go slightly glazed and feral, and he snaps his hips so hard into you your teeth click. He hoists your knee in his grip higher and you press your bare foot into his shoulder as he sets a brutal pace. He makes it hurt. Hand wrapped around your throat, angling your head back into a stretch that pinches. You arch your back, deepening the angle so that he’s fucking up into you and hitting something that makes dark spots flash in your vision. Oh, it hurts, it hurts, it feels so good. His hulking form over you, teeth bared in a snarl, would be terrifying to anyone else. But you think that even with his hand on your throat and that savage look in his eyes, there is nowhere you’d ever feel safer than right where you are. Beneath him, surrounded by him, held in the palm of his hand. 

“Like that, baby? This what you needed?” He rips the collar of your t-shirt down, then the cup of your bra, and slaps your breast harshly, once, twice, three times, rips a high pitched keen out of you. 

Yes, yes, yes. Thank you. 

“You’re gonna take all of my come like a good girl, but first I need you to give me one more. Need you to come on my cock one more time.” The hand on your throat moves to your clit, circles it over and over again. You can feel the wet slap of his balls heavy against your ass. There’s sweat beading at his temples and your eyes never leave each other. Your heavy pants and the sounds of your fucking filling the room like some sort of lewd song. You start to throb around him, the pounding of his cock pulling your orgasm from deep in your pelvis so that it’s fluttering out, up your back and through your limbs like electricity. You pull his chest to yours then, and he lets his heavy weight crush you into the cushions beneath, grinds his cock deep, his pubic bone pressing harshly on the bud of your clit and eliciting another pulsing wave of your orgasm, and then he’s jerking inside of you. The heat of his come filling you. “Take it, take it all, every last drop.”

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

His hips grind slowly, and he lets your knee drop. You wrap your leg around him and push your foot into the base of his spine, pressing him harder into you. He pulls back a little after the last jerk of his cock, gentle thumb ghosting along the arch of your eyebrow, your cheek, then down across the wing of your collarbone, he lowers his head to press a long kiss to your shoulder. When he looks at you again his eyes are soft, a little concerned, “That was okay? I wasn’t too rough?” You nuzzle into his chest, press a kiss over his heart. 

“No, no, that was what I needed. It was perfect.”

The two of you lay there for a long while afterwards. His head on your breast and his heavy weight pressing you deep into the sofa. The heat rolling off his body is almost overwhelming, sweltering like a furnace, and it wrings exhaustion out of you. There’s an ache settling deep in your pelvis, and the skin of your throat and thighs smart where he gripped you so hard. It’s bliss.

You run your fingers through his hair, nails dragging along his scalp, and then in long, languorous strokes down his back. He practically purrs, like an oversized and needy cat.

Perhaps this necessity is the worst thing that’s ever happened to you. I need you so much, Joel. Isn't that the worst thing you’ve ever heard? Like an addiction, some sort of disease. For him to be the thing in the world to best soothe you, to best comfort you, but also be the one thing that sometimes hurts you the most. The dichotomy of all he brings out in you – the almost overwhelming love you feel for him, the fear of needing him so much you’d die without him, the desperation to be close to him at all times, for the two of you to be more connected, to know each other better than any two people ever have in all history. You could set fire to the two of you wrapped around each other like you are now with the intensity of all your feelings, let your skin meld together as one. And then also: the hurt, the sadness, the feeling that there’s always something small but magnificently significant missing between the two of you. All the unspoken words that hang heavy in the air. That one piece of him he always manages to keep hidden and tucked away from you no matter the intensity of what transpires between you, no matter how wide you spread his ribs to peer within him. It’s like a neverending stabbing to the depth of your heart, over and over and over again. You think you might have become addicted to the way it hurts. So much so, it manifests physically. You think that perhaps the more it hurts the more content you feel because at least you still have him here with you, at least he’s still in your arms. 

There is a part of yourself that realizes that you need something to hurt, to be difficult, to feel worth it. Like if there isn’t some seed of pain at the root of the thing, then it isn’t worth fighting for, isn’t worth the dedication, and you can’t understand why. Perhaps because the start of your life was so easy, so peaceful, despite the world you’d been born into. Perhaps because after your parent’s death everything was suddenly so jarringly difficult, from one blink to the next, life threatening at every turn, that it made the before not seem real anymore. Didn’t seem like it’d ever be attainable again if you didn’t hurt yourself in the process of obtaining it. Perhaps it was just martyrdom, or stupidity, or a subconscious inclination to make everything in your life infinitely more difficult than it actually needed to be. Like that girl who’d always done as was expected of her needed to find some way to counteract her obsequiance with a little bit of rebellion. Some small way within yourself to rail against always being good. Perhaps these small hurts were that form of rebellion. 

And then, well really, how could you not resent him after all that? Even if that resentment is overshadowed by how much you love him, how much you need him, still, still you’re angry with him at the same time for keeping that piece of himself away from you when you’ve spilled your blood at his feet. And yet, despite all this, despite all these thoughts running through your mind as you feel his breath press into your chest, as you feel the strong, steady thump of his heart echo into the cavity of your own, you understand him. You understand the motives behind every one of his actions, read the feeling in his eyes like a book, and so how could you not continue to endure all this ache? Continue to crave it. How could you not offer him your understanding, at the very least? If he won’t let you give him anything else but that, then this is all you’ll offer him. A place he can shuck away the fear he holds gripped around his heart, a place to come and be accepted as he is. Whatever is missing after that can be endured, if only he continues to rest his head here on your heart, let you breathe him in, let you feel him. 

And oh, you think, it is such a terrible thing to love someone so much. A terrible thing. 

-

Ellie liked to say that time healed all wounds. And sometimes that was true. Sometimes it was not a healing, but merely a scabbing over. Eschar over a festering of hurt still alive beneath the surface, but lived with so long it becomes customary. The bearer becomes complacent – used to it. Parts of you felt like that. Different pockets of painful memory across the surface of your skin. Pushed to the back of your mind in a plight for the preservation of your sanity.

Joel liked to be contradictory and say it was never time. But people, it was people that helped you heal your wounds. Serious, stoic old man that he liked to pretend to be, but you found him incredibly soft and sweet the day he told you that. Trying his best to piece together words to comfort you. You’d shown him exactly how sweet you found him afterwards, on your knees, your mouth wrapped around his hard cock. 

And you found they were both right in their own ways. At his side, surrounded by him, the stain of your grief dissipated little by little every day. And as time after Connie’s death passed, the clinic became your priority. The perfect distraction. The patient’s and the people of Jackson were tended to by you and Nancy, who’d become indispensable, with a dedication and hyperfocus, Tommy said, rivaled that of any soldier he had ever served with before. That thought made you quite pleased to think about. For others to recognize the strength in you was cathartic in a way you’d not known you needed.

-

“There’s been word of a group of travelers – about ten of them.” Maria tells you and Joel. You’re at your office desk, a strew of case notes and charts before you. Joel’s already scowling, shaking his head, arms crossed against his chest. His hair is getting too long again, dark curls streaked with gray, messy and sticking up in all the places where you’d tugged your fingers through earlier when he was kissing you. “A teenage girl found her way to the gates – patrol’s bringing her in now. She’s barely speaking, but we managed to get a bit out of her. Says there’s kids with them, a baby. Says they’re sick, hurt – been traveling a long time.”

Joel looks at you, a forbidding look already building in his eyes, “Absolutely not.”

“I wasn’t going to ask you.” You turn your nose up at him and look back at Maria, he feels his blood boil at your bratiness. “What else did she say, Maria? Is she hurt?”

“I said no, Birdie.”

“Not from what we could tell. Wouldn’t let us get too close– Joel, if they’ve got kids with them–” Maria tries.

“I don’t give a damn. And since when’ve you gotten so fucking lax with the safety of this place? What happened to floatin’ anyone who got too close down the river?”

“Joel–” you admonish sharply. But he isn’t listening to this shit. There’s no way in hell he’s letting you go along with this nonsense. “She ain’t going out there. Absolutely not… With just some unconfirmed story to go on? You think I’d let her–”

“Let me?” Your voice is incredulous.

“It isn’t safe. There are too many people here who need you–” I need you, he thinks, I need you so much, I’ll die without you, I need you safe, “People who rely on you. You’re not gonna put all that in jeopardy for a group of strangers.”

“I’m not completely helpless, you know.” You stand now, crossing your arms beneath your breasts, and fucking hell, now is not the time for him to be ogling your tits. You prop your hip out, the sassiest look he’s ever seen, set on your delicate features. “If I’m out there, if it’s necessary, I can take care of myself.”

“Birdie, you’re not hearing me. The answer is no.” There’s no room for argument in his tone, and he sees your temper flare in your eyes, bright hot and seething at him. 

“Joel, I’m not asking your permission. This is what all this has been for – what everything I’ve learned and practiced for was always meant for.” You splay your palms wide, your voice cracking a little in your fervor, and he feels a terrible sense of premonition begin to creep up the back of his neck. His hair standing on end. “There may be only one of me, but that makes my skill all the more necessary to share. There’s only one of me and lots of people who need help – and I’m gonna do everything I can to help everyone I can. Strangers or not. You cannot stop me.” 

He turns away, his heavy boot accidentally colliding with the chair beside him and jostling it violently. “Fuck–” he spits, “Fuck,” runs a hand through his hair, grips hard and tugs. The thought of you out there, in danger, vulnerable, sets his teeth on edge. Goes against everything howling inside him to keep you safe, protected. To hunch his body over yours and bear his teeth like an animal at anyone who’d dare get too close, horde you only for himself. At the same time, his own sense of self preservation rears its ugly head. The thought of you hurt so abhorrent in his mind he shies away from it – wants to run far away, avoid witnessing such a thing.

He pivots sharply back in your direction, brandishing a threatening finger at your chest, “If we do this, we do it how I say. Exactly as I say. No questions asked.” He turns his glare on Maria, “And we’re taking a good group with us. None of those idiots who can barely handle themselves. I want Pablo, Kenneth and Ben.” You and Maria share a look. Jesus, fucking incompetent, the lot of them, he thinks and paces, but they’ll have to do. “And Tommy’s fucking coming. If you’re gonna risk mine, then you’ll risk yours.”

“Fair enough,” Maria says, holding up her palms at him. Her face is serious, not letting his provocation rattle her. “I agree.” 

“Fucking better,” he grumbles under his breath, glaring at her out of the corner of his eye. You sidle up to him, run a soothing palm up his belly to his chest. He has to suppress a shiver. “You’re gonna rip all the hair out of your head, baby,” you croon, soft and appeasing, small palm wrapping around his wrist to gently pull his hand away. The glare he levels at you would send a grown man running. You scrunch your nose at him, and fuck the fact that he wants to kiss you senseless right now. No one person should be this beautiful, this appealing. It surely must go against some law of nature, for one cruel little creature to be so unbearably beguiling, so hard to say no to. Unable to hold on to his annoyance at you for anything longer than a few seconds, he wraps your small hand in his and tugs you further into him. “You’ll do as I say. We’re going to be extremely careful out there. I sense anything even slightly off, and we’re coming back. Understood?” he murmurs into your hair. You look up at him, eyes wide and falsely guileless, oh he knows all your tricks, you can’t fool him with that look. You nod in confirmation, soft pink cheek smushed up against his shoulder. Jesus.

Read Chapter IV

Netherfeildren Masterlist

End Notes: I kind of want to mention some things (and don’t know really know how to put it), but I realize there are parts of Birdie’s thought process in this chapter, and really in the story going forward, that some people might not agree with all that much, or find like idk misguided, unhealthy, etc., and yes, most definitely acknowledged. But really, the whole point of this story is that she’s working through some things, they’re both working through things. So… I know her point of view is perhaps not very well adjusted, but I think she’s going to get better eventually. They’re BOTH going to get better eventually. At least, that’s where I hope I’m able to lead them both to, and I hope you all don’t judge her too harshly or think too poorly of her before this is all over. My goal when I started writing this was to examine the grace we all sometimes need others to give us when we’re our worst or weakest selves. This is a very personal chapter for me, and perhaps my favorite of the entire story. 

I’m sending lots of love to you all. Thank you for reading. xx

[sillyromance]

Good day everyone! Merry Christmas❄️🎀! I've been very busy and kinda depressed past few weeks, that's the reason of my "disappearance"... However, I'm planning to come back. And so, this is my new little evening thought.

Hope you enjoy!

I'm thinking about an aristocratic pred. The one whose sight makes your spine tingle as they enter the room. Their body is relaxed, but straight as a blade of a sword and their eyes are sharp as one, but still gentle in a way. They are always gallant and patient, their clothes is perfectly balanced and it shows how rich its owner actually is, though there is no sign of vulgarity. The pred's voice is calm and soft, and... Powerful; there is no need to question their authority despite this person doesn't even think to dominate anyone - pride and grace are just in their nature. They belong to the kind of a nobleman who has its high position in the society not exclusively due to the right of blood - but noble spirit and intelligence as well.

Such aristocrat would be a very gentle pred whose first thought would be about their prey's comfort and safety. On the old days most of the noblemen were warriors, so I suppose the pred would be quite protective over someone they love and cherish - and they would swallow their partner down immediately if there was even a minimal threat around; also there could be fluffy tropes of everyday life representing one helping another with mental issues and worries or just them two having fun. There is an endless potential for blood-curdling tropes too since ancient castles can be spooky and dark, especially in the winter period when the sun doesn't come out for long and it hides behind grumpy clouds from dawn to sunset; or during thunderous autumn storms when furious wind makes old trees in the garden whine and bow to the very ground while lightnings paint the sky in electric blue... Of course, the pred is kind and thoughtful enough to provide their scared companion with required "protection", lifting the prey up to their face with no extra words, leisurely lowering the person into the mouth and gulping cautiously. Their hand traces the way of the prey going through their tight gullet and senses satisfying weight smoothly slipping in their middle, their stomach rounding beneath the layers of velvet and satin...

Moreover, there could be a great scenario including political intrigues against the prey. There is a moment when everything comes to the stressful point: the prey is followed by their not-so-peaceful opponents, and the tiny has only one option to survive. Their big friend working in the cabinet as usual raises the eyebrow in surprise as the prey breaks into the room, but there is no time - the little one need to be hidden, now!.. Well, far-away footsteps annonce soon arrival of the chasers; confused, the pred looks in the startled eyes of the prey and finally comes up with a solution; their mouth instinctively waters. The nobleman feels guilty for what they are going to do, however it can be explained later, can't it?.. The prey doesn't know the whole experience is safe and, surely, they freak out; nevertheless, they don't struggle when their forehead meets a slimy, squishy surface of the tongue since they're absolutely overwhelmed with the horrible kaleidoscope of things happened at the past hours. As the prey gets pushed into the wet, noisy chamber of the stomach, the only thought which pops out in their head is: "At least, it's someone I love..." Only after some time, listening to the conversation the pred has with their sweetheart's enemies, the prey understands the pred's true intentions and calms down. Meanwhile, the saviour goes around their day and casually chats with other members of the royal court , keeping their hand on the slightly expanded belly and innerly smiling when feeling as their unfortunate partner moves around sleepily...

The prey's foes won't go away with the mess they have started...

[pocima]

My seasonal music highlights: winter 2024 🧣

Welcome to a new series of my silly music-blogging. Starting it because I want to regularly properly write about and describe the songs I enjoy, and to present my own candidates for the unofficial “song of the season” awards. I already started an annual fav list for albums/EPs and wanted something less major and more presentable as a little playlist, not really in particular order. Enjoy! Note that I kept the list one song per artist, most have incredible new releases outside of the ones focused on, these are just my picks for the season or my most played. And let me tell you, countless artists are dropping new music and projects left and right and I’m getting FED. This list alone is extremely abundant and we’re barely 2 full months into the year. The competition for this year’s personal favorite album spots and the highlights for the next seasons is about to be real tough. Can’t wait. (GIF source: MV for Cyberia by Meth Math.)

❅ winter again - 4s4ki

What better way to start a songs of the winter list than with THE anthem of this winter season? With her ability to not only pull off but absolutely excel at the different genres she incorporates into her music, 4s4ki simply never disappoints. She went into the studio with a mission to give the famous Last Christmas by Wham! a true successor and the mission was wonderfully accomplished. In this mellow 80s pop influenced track, she channels her inner Cocteau Twins (word to that one YouTube comment in the lyric video) while longing for a loved one that didn’t seem to stay by her side not even to have some canned coffee and bento this holiday season. Now I’m gonna channel my inner platonic delulu and say that it was released just on time, when I was discovering and especially feeling Boy Harsher’s alternative 80s inspired music (collab when?). Ironic how a self-described reverse Christmas song ended up doubling my winter spirits. She never fails to give me exactly what I need. I love this woman. (Big ups to Magic sword but as I mentioned I’m keeping the list one song per artist.)

❅ 4eva - Shygirl feat. Empress Of

You know from my username that I’ve been loving what Shygirl has had to offer for quite a while now, and 4eva was my personal post-Nymph jam ever since I heard a snippet of it back in last September and neither the full studio version nor my intuition let me down. Shygirl’s rapping and Empress Of’s verse over the Kingdom-produced delicious wobbly synths indeed stay playing on my mind. Empress Of’s feature came as a tracklist surprise and I’m more grateful for it than I had expected. The jungle drums in the chorus, and honestly the structure of the song in general were unexpected to me as well, but nevertheless they took part in forming possibly my favorite dance track of 2024. Both the Club Shy EP and 4eva have secured firm spots in my favorites of the year.

❅ Deer Teeth - Sega Bodega

Father of music, first ever man in the music industry, smash hit sorcerer, my favorite producer of all time… However you may refer to Sega Bodega, you can always rely on him to create an entire universe in one record and take you there and back. With Deer Teeth, he tells a story of a sighting of a late mother laid to rest with her child in a swan’s wings along with 200 deer teeth (hence the song title), which brings with itself a tale of hope, sacrifice and eternity. With reversed and distorted vocals, the addition of Mayah Alkhateri’s siren-like voice and obviously Sega’s otherworldly production style, the tale transforms into a cinematic masterpiece in sound form. Extra note: perfect to fall asleep to in a road trip, tried and tested. Both Deer Teeth and his newer single Set Me Free, I’m an Animal are stunning masterpieces, and I know this will make my year-end album list real predictable but SB3 is the most solid candidate for the top spot as of right now. Save me Sega Bodega, save me…

❅ Ex-Girlfriend - Erika de Casier feat. Shygirl

New slow R&B earworms drawing on different nostalgic genres couldn’t be more perfect for the chilly season, especially when they’re delivered by the one and only Erika de Casier. She has this ability to mix the best musical aspects of the near past (namely the 90s/00s) with her very own sensuality, freshness and uniqueness. Her soft vocals over a down-tempo R&B beat to match come after an orchestral, arguably dramatic intro and the melancholic, yearning yet cocky-ish tone is set. Shygirl’s deep, almost raspy voice always shines with slow, gloomy instrumentals (also seen in Lapdance from Asia by Cosha) and this track was no exception, matter of fact it’s now certainly one of my favorite features of hers. I will be returning to this song not only on the colder days of March, but the whole year, or rather until it’s wiped off existence completely.

❅ Cyberia - Meth Math

Before the quirky experimental trio’s slightly overdue, highly anticipated debut album Chupetones (go give the best b-side Pócima a listen too), they released 4 singles and I was not at all aware beforehand of the release of the third one. Pressed play, was impressed, pressed the loop button and the rest (at least 80 plays within the first week) was history. The intro immediately catches your attention, and the descriptions of a sad-looking happily-dancing angel over toot sounds, ripping synths and bonking bass transition into happy hardcore perfection. The 3-second bit before the second chorus gets me the most, it’s like a minuscule break to slow down and reflect on the all the absurdity before resuming the alien dancefloor madness. This banger completes my Meth Math song holy trinity, which is now Tambaleo-Fantasía Final-Cyberia. Add Pócima into the mix if you wanna form the four horsemen. Whatever your personal favorite may be, we can all agree that Meth Math always come at us with excellence.

❅ dOpamine - OnlyOneOf

Hallelujah. We have finally reached an era where all lyOns can live in harmony and sleep in peace instead of fighting over title tracks and new lows for the group’s flaming hot garbage record label. Even their biggest haters (so-called “fans” with a strange superiority complex) were finally praising an OnlyOneOf title track, and with how good it really is I’d be admiring their dedication to hating their own faves if they didn’t. Anyway, dOpamine is one of their best, it really is. I’ve been hoping for them to get on the drum & bass train for quite a while now, and they did it with a bright, twinkling, breakbeat-incorporating twist. They don’t lazily dip their toes into dnb and breakcore and leave it at that though, the buildups and structure of the track stay fascinating and the bridge drifts (should I intend the pun?) into their gritty industrial side before the outro closing out the song on a vocally strong, passionate but never over-the-top note. While the whole mini is exquisite, the lead single ended up being my favorite. Simply put, OnlyOneOf never fail to deliver quality K-pop against all odds.

❅ Sorbet - Kelela (LSDXOXO Remix)

The pre-release singles off of the RAVE:N remix album were all incredible just like its album tracks, however this gem is particularly lingering on me and my February mood. This spin on Sorbet encapsulates the AM club aspect of the project in one re-envisioned tune. Kelela and LSDXOXO, who produced and remixed numerous of her songs, reunite as a power duo to turn the dulcet, sedate Sorbet into a Eurodance-coded amped-up slapper that will get anyone moving. You can tell the song is DJ set opener material from when the first beat kick. The chorus melody sticks to your mind and the late night-like sonic experience becomes unforgettable. The special encounter requiring dim lighting is now set in a flashy rave scene. Completely flipped scenario yet everything makes perfect sense. All in all, Kelela’s vision for her dance records is 20/20 and LSDXOXO’s execution never leaves you hanging either.

❅ Fuetazo - Isabella Lovestory feat. Villano Antillano

Born to embody camp, forced… no, also born to be a hit maker. Isabella is undebatably one of the freshest, most outstanding figures of neoperreo and neoreggaeton, and her eccentric flare still comes through in a single as a (hopefully) pre-album snack. Fuetazo was released early into the season and closed out Isabella’s activities for the year. While the playful chorus introduces a whip that comes and goes, Villano Antillano mentions vacations and 42-inch weaves with her tone that meshes with the cheekiness of the track, and their chopped up vocal bits go back-and-forth in the outro. With the Chicken, Kamixlo and Dinamarca producer trio, the instrumentals can’t go wrong. The hard-hitting dembow drums and the lighter synths and other aspects of the song create a contrast that feels like a breeze, maybe more of a summer one even but a confidence booster gots to stay on rotation regardless of weather or temperature.

❅ Messy Room - The Deep (+ mini EP review)

Had I postponed the release of my 2023 fave project list just a little, the Messy Room EP would have at least scored an honorable mention. For those who need a quick debrief: The Deep is an independent K-alternative artist whose discography radiates coziness and sweetness. Mayhaps I should say sugar, spice and everything nice. Taking part in the production of her music, creative direction and visual curation, she ticks all the boxes for the bedroom pop star that should’ve reached her target audience ages ago. While she’s taken inspiration from R&B and indie and still does, “resurfaced” genres such as UK garage, dnb and Jersey club are fairly newer additions to her range. I love all of these genres as you could tell and I adore the songs in which she uses them (got into her through the UKG bop Muah!), but surprisingly the track that glanced at her “roots” hooked me in the most. Maybe it’s because it contains the core “messy room” atmosphere of the EP, maybe it’s her soft vocals shining brightly, maybe it’s because she has the recipe to making a tune to unwind to. I hope this praise doesn’t sound like a jab at the rest of the EP because not a single skip is detected over there. In Brand New House and BAPPI, The Deep talks about deserving the luxuries and getting to the bag over garage and house beats. bow wow is about confidence despite troubles and annoyances, while 20’s is a self-reflection on the constant search for perfection and attempts to heal. The project is most definitely worth checking out if you want a bit of calm, refreshing new music, or if you’re looking for a multi-skilled artist to support.

One line section (music I loved but honestly don’t have as much to say about, so I fit my thoughts into one line/sentence)

❆ Gold On Me: Mother ABRA is back and I’m definitely checking out Groupthink after this, now it’s time for the album innit 🍽️ (should’ve definitely written about this in more detail but maybe another time soz)

❆ 4 noviosS: While everyone came to Club Shy to play, she entered with pen and paper and a goal.

❆ Perdió Este Culo: I have to give flowers where they’re due, I wish the La Joia album had more quality of this level though. (However shoutout to Sexy, La Que No Se Mueva and Sin Carné.)

❆ TYOSTAR: Can’t tell if their music is aimed at dudebros (disgustingly irritating audience) or hyperpop girlies (slightly less irritating audience) but they scored a night ride hit either way, definitely one of Starkids’ finest to date.

Thankies for getting here, and shoutout to @chuuuvi for pretty much directly fueling my writing process and inspo and @a-moth-to-the-light for inspo as well 😁

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

Eskel silently absorbed Yennefer's cold, haughty tone and usual insults with no change in expression... they were far more often directed at Geralt or Lambert, but he had heard more than enough of them not to even blink. And he had heard far cruder insults from others, out on the Path. Nevertheless, she looked more angered than she usually did... he had struck a nerve of some sort with the comparison to the Winter Queen, the matter of her and Geralt still raw to her, likely. Just as it had followed and bothered him for many years, since he had first heard her name spoken by his brother. At her sudden demand, his viper eyes slowly met her frosty gaze again, considering it, and absently stroking his mutilated cheek once more. He supposed this particular conversation had been a long time coming now, but he had not expected it to ever be necessary. He hadn't expected to see her again, after her departure from Kaer Morhen, in the wake of their battle against the Wild Hunt... yet here they were, under strange circumstances. As usual, destiny and the Path enjoyed playing their little jokes on him, intertwining his fate with one he would never choose on his own to join it with. Taking another drink of his Mahakaman Spirit, savoring the burning sensation and taste, considering his words, at last his deep, calm tone answered... told the Sorceress the truth... or some of it, at least. Enough of it to start with.

"I believe what I have seen with my own eyes. Try seeing it from my perspective. On one hand, I saw you walking all over my brother for years, twisting him to your will. Using him. Changing the man I grew up with into resembling at times a White Wolf on a leash. You tried ordering us Witchers around likewise, in our own home, as if you had any authority over us. You have been part of the Lodge of Sorceresses. On the other hand, you risked your life fighting to protect Geralt's Child of Surprise, as well as defend my home, from the Wild Hunt. And now you help me with this suffering child, when you could teleport away any time. You have never been my friend nor my enemy. I hope you can begin to understand now why you have long made me uneasy. Uncertain of you. I do not yet know what you are to me. Yet destiny has chosen to place you on my Path. Continue to."

The Witcher paused in his words and train of thought, considering her icy violet eyes, the burning fireplace, and his memories that speaking of the shadows between them drew. The girl remained mercifully asleep, at least... though part of him almost wanted the demon to rattle around inside her again to shift the uncomfortable topic. A distraction from their present, less than pleasant situation. Fighting the worst kinds of monsters and demons were easier and more familiar territory than talking about his past to outsiders... the memories that made his scars itch furiously, as they were in the present. The Path was made for a solitary Witcher, just as their memories and experiences on it were. Yet it was different in this case, somehow. Yennefer reminded him of another Sorceress, all too well... just as the girl reminded him of another girl who he had been counting on. One he had failed... as he was now trying not to do with this one. Still trying to right wrongs that never could be. While he was on the subject... before he could stop himself, he addressed one of the related matters, jaw tightening bitterly. The one she had always reminded him of the most, from the moment they had met. One hadn't spoken of to another, in many years. He wasn't certain how much she knew, if Geralt had ever told her the story before, as he had Dandelion, inspiring him to compose a ballad about it... one Eskel had firmly ordered him not to perform again... but he intended to find out.

"There's more to it than all that. Sabrina Glevissig. She was once an old Aretuza classmate and Lodge friend of yours, wasn't she? You and Triss weren't the first Sorceresses I met. Nor the first of your kind to visit Kaer Morhen. Doubt she would have mentioned a simple Witcher like me, before that stake and fire finally caught up with her. The consequences of an all too long life of crimes. It was a long time ago. Another me. One more gullible... and cowardly."

@okruchlodu

Eskel glanced back over to Yennefer's alluring violet eyes again at her teasing words and smirk, remaining silent for a time as he considered them and her. He knew on some level she was mostly joking, desiring perhaps a back and forth, battle of wits, as they had been doing for years when they encountered one another. Yet... when he looked at her visage... not for the first time... Sabrina Glevissig's smirking face and falsely caring voice returned vividly and unpleasantly to mind. Her form hovering over his bed at Kaer Morhen, back in 1232, as she had tended to his wounds... and more. Her old Lodge and Aretuza friend, who Yennefer had uncomfortably reminded him of from the moment Geralt had first brought her to visit Kaer Morhen, many winters past. Conflicting feelings. Whatever else Yennefer was, she wasn't Sabrina, and had proven it during the battle of Kaer Morhen... even so, memories and feelings lingered. Eskel remembered their time together, what Sabrina had done to him and Deidre, among others. The unkind lessons about life and people he had learned from her cruelty, ambition and manipulations.

Even her eventual fitting death, being burned alive at the stake like the witch she had always been by the very oafish King she had wrapped around her finger, had not been satisfying to him when he had heard. Only left him more embittered and uncertain what to feel. Unsatisfied with the outcome. He had considered hunting her down for years, along with Stregobor and Eltibald over their involvement in the Black Sun matter... but had delayed too long, in her case. Dead for years, and still she haunted his nightmares, as much as the Trials, and what he had done to Deidre... his cowardice in not claiming her... rejecting her later at Kaer Morhen... and what he had eventually chosen to do to her in Ban Gleán. His culpability, forever intertwined with a wretch like Sabrina. The Witcher's cheek scars itched furiously at the many grim memories, keeping his features neutral as possible, and he rose a hand to scratch them absently. Then, when he had his words, his deep, languid voice spoke back to the raven haired Sorceress as much as to himself and the fire his viper eyes gazed into, between sips of his drink.

"Of a sort, perhaps. One of an acquired taste. Learned my lessons the hard way, as most do... if they ever learn anything. In my experience, men tend to be more naively romantic and gullible than ruthlessly pragmatic and self interested women... though it is women who eat romance up. Take full advantage of it. Why there are so many cloudy eyed fools in the world, being led around by their ears, by some henpecking nag. Fool Knights in Shining Armor, with their chivalry... why I have little love for Toussaint. Happened to Wolf more than once, but you know all about that... and happened to Lambert. Tried advising them, didn't listen to me, of course. All I could do was sit back and watch my brothers surrender the reins of their own lives to the whims of Sorceresses. Takes a rarer sort of man to remain a romantic, while seeing cold, hard reality for what it is. People for what they are. And not be forever chasing after the elusive Winter Queen. Choosing to remain in control of his own life, instead of the whims of others... destiny and its frequent, cruel japes notwithstanding, of course."

@okruchlodu

[lathalea]

Good morning, Your Majesty! I heard you were taking questions again, and as one of your biggest fans, I thought I would take my chance;)

3: What is something you regret doing when you were a prince?

4: Do you believe in love at first sight?

👑 Welcome to Thorin’s Royal Ask Box👑

You'll find reply to question 3 here.

Good afternoon, dear Lady Legolasse of the faraway Badass Forest!

Thank you for your patience. It was indeed an urgent matter – it turned out that one of the younger members of my family along with a certain Hobbit – none of them shall be named in this letter – happened to be, shall we say, inventive last night (with some help of Dwarven spirits and Old Toby, I’m afraid). They decided to sprinkle the lower levels of the Merchant Quarter with our finest wheat flour. From what I could understand from their incoherent muttering, they “missed the snow”. Indeed, most of it has melted recently here. When I suggested that they could simply climb up the mountain to enjoy its abundance, I heard from K one of them that the other one was afraid of heights. But it seems that the Hobbit was not afraid of depts because he was seen running along one of the main walkways (the one without railing) and shouting: “Winter is coming! Everybody, make a snowman!” while pouring out the flour out of its sack into the chasm below. After checking the royal pantry, Bombur is not amused. What is worse, several Dwarven matrons who witnessed the regrettable event are also far from being amused as – forgive me for saying this – the Hobbit in question lost his trousers somewhere along the way. Rest assured that the crisis has been averted the culprits are being punished with… severe headaches.

I am more than happy to hear that your research on Belegost goes well! I am looking forward to hearing about any discoveries you may make in future.

And now, allow me to change the subject to a more pleasant one. Love at first sight. I am sure that you are aware of Dwarven traditions and legends. The closest thing to your question is the concept of Dwarven Ones, as the scholars of Men and Elves call it, I believe. They say that one glance at a person is enough to tell whether they are your One. I have seen it happen before my eyes more than once. Luckily, I happened to witness the moment when Balin saw his Other Half for the first time. You should have seen him, my lady, he completely lost his tongue! Who would have thought? Balin! My most eloquent advisor! They have been together for over 150 years now. Recently, his wife has finally arrived at Erebor and I can let you in on a secret: I saw tears of happiness in his and hers eyes alike. It has been a year since they saw each other last, before we rode out on the Quest.

I was privileged to see the same glint in my sister’s eyes whenever her husband was with her. There is a promise I made to myself when Fili and Kili lost their father: if any of them happens to find their One, I will not alloe politics stand in their way, even though it may not be the most prudent decision. Love like this does not happen often and we, Dwarves, cherish it greatly when it does. Even though I have not experienced it myself, I am hoping that perhaps some day I will see how this “love at first sight” manifests itself. I would like to ask you, however, not to mention it to my sister. She is already tormenting me with the idea of a Spring Feast and hinting at the fact that she is planning to invite quite a few unattached lovely ladies from all the corners of the Middle Earth. I am not sure that parading me in front of dozens of fair maidens is the best way to find me a spouse.

Nevertheless, if you happen to be in Rhovanion on the eve of Spring Equinox, you are most welcome to visit my kingdom and enjoy yourself at the feast. Perhaps we could discuss your latest findings on Belegost, hopefully away from the aforementioned fair maidens and my meddling sister…

Your humble servant,

👑 Thorin Oakenshield

📜 Thorin’s Ask Box question list

[pillow-anime-talk]

mistletoe. {pt.2}

synopsis: Killing cursed spirits with Satoru, winter prom with Metori and sincere conversation with Juuzou.

# tags: scenarios; christmas!au; current relationships & crush culture; romance; fluff; a bit of angst; sfw

includes: female reader ft. satoru gojou {jjk} + metori saiko {saiki k. no psi nan} + juuzou suzuya {tokyo ghoul}

part one {click}

— SATORU

“... Y/N-chan, on the left!”

“... Hey, hey! Look up, sweetheart!”

“... Oi! Behind you!”

“... Behind you too! Kick their asses, Satoru~!”

“... YEAH! Here’s my super strong girl!”

You two have been in the forest; for over twenty minutes you dealing with killing smaller or larger curses that frightened mushroom pickers or wild animals. You had a lot of fun doing it, all the time competing to see who killed more evil creatures. Of course, your boyfriend was winning so far, by three, but how could you know that some of them would come out of the forest litter, literally letting the white-haired man kill them all in a few seconds? Well, but at least you killed about twelve curses yourself, and that was a really nice result.

On the one hand, you enjoyed spending time with Gojou like that, because it was very rare for the two of you to be together on a mission, but on the other hand... It was the time of Christmas that you wanted to spend in your own home, surrounded by delicious food and desserts, hot wine or beer, loved ones, including your boyfriend’s cute students or your mutual friends. From a long time, that is, from the moment you became a sorcerer, you didn’t spend any holidays, birthdays or anniversaries as you would like. There was simply no time and energy for it because every day, apart from some Sundays, you worked to make life better for vulnerable people. It wasn’t a bad job, but sometimes... when you looking at ‘normal’ couples you envied their ignorance to the fact that some evil had appeared around them. You envied them that they could spend their free time together doing stupid things or relaxing in front of the TV.

So you sighed softly, raising the hand in which you held the small pocket knife. Small as your anti-curse tool was, it was also extremely effective and dangerous. Therefore, you cut the throat of one of the evil souls without any problems, thus defeating the last enemy.

“Ahhhh. Finally...! You’re not hurt, baby?” The young man said in a cheerful voice, and you shook your head in disapproval. Second later, you cleaned the little knife and then, hid it in one of the pockets of your black pants. “Would you like to get some hot chocolate and cake?”

“Huh? Have we finished all our work for today?” You asked in surprise, and the man just bit his lip with joy, putting his finger to his mouth after a while.

“Yes, although you forgot one thing, love.” You raised an eyebrow at his amused words. However, Satoru quickly got rid of your unawareness as soon as he raised his right hand and pointed at something above with his index finger. For a moment you were sure that he meant a curse that hadn’t been killed before, but as it turned out, it was mistletoe growing on one of the tall trees; you were surprised that during the fight he was able to additionally notice a small, green plant. Anyway, you just chuckled lightly as you stood on your tiptoes and tugged at the twenty-eight-year-old by his jacket.

You were happy that at least this one, very sweet Christmas moment could happen to you during the winter season. Thanks to this, these holidays weren’t so bad and devoid of spirit.

— METORI

Every year there was a winter prom at your school; it was the third time for you, while for Saiko, who only joined your class this year, it was something new. Of course, he was skeptical about it from the start and generally discouraged by the very idea of ​​spending time with all PK Academy students, classmates and teachers. That’s why he immediately told you that if you want to go to the prom, he can arrange whatever prom you want; he literally said if you wanted Beyoncé he could call her.

But you just smiled warmly and said that school party is enough for you and you really like it. So he couldn’t refuse you... after all, the gray-haired young boy had a huge, indescribable weakness for you. Plus, even though you’ve been dating for a few weeks, Metori still couldn’t understand how... gentle and simple you were. You weren’t interested in luxury, his money, where his father worked. Instead, you asked every day if he had breakfast, if he would like to go for a walk with you, if he would like to come to you for dinner because your mother cooked a delicious Mexican dish. It was something new and nice for a teenager who had grown up in prosperity and splendor throughout his life. It didn’t bother him, but the prom... it was quite strange and mysterious. But he agreed, so he couldn’t take his words back because he didn’t want you to get sad or disappointed.

Thus, he bought a new, well-fitting and expensive suit – one that would fit perfectly with your delicate dress, which at the same time matches to the color of your shiny eyes. He also paid for new shoes, a watch, and a hairdresser visit, but even that couldn’t compare to your soft, natural blushes and the sweet facial expression you gave him when he came to your house with his butler.

“... You’re stressed?” You asked quietly as you sat in the car and he squeezed your little hand between his much larger ones.

“I’ve just never been at a prom... public... especially at school.” He muttered, and though he turned his head, you could see a hint of blush on his nose and both cheeks. So you chuckled lightly as you cuddled up against his shoulder.

“I’m pretty sure you’ll like it.”

The school hasn’t changed much; only a few holiday decorations have been added here and there. However, the gymnasium took your breath away because it was magically decorated. But before you had time to take your seats on the other side of the door, your physical education teacher stopped the two of you.

“Couples enter after payment.” Mr. Matsuzaki said, and the Santa Claus hat on his head added to the charm of his muscular figure.

Of course, Saiko was already taking out his wallet, but you quickly stopped it, pointing in a specific direction. It was, obviously, the smol mistletoe, which was the aforementioned entry ticket for couples who decided to show up at the ball together. So you smiled slightly at your boyfriend and he looked at you confused.

“What is it?”

“O-Oh, you never kissed under the mistletoe?”

“Kissing under it has any meaning?” He asked, still surprised, and you just moved closer to his face, stealing a short, really sweet kiss.

“It’s a tradition, love. You have to kiss under every mistletoe if you notice one.” You said happily and then thanked the teacher for going inside the gym.

Of course, Metori in his head was already calculating how many tons of mistletoe he should buy so that you could continue kissing him as sweetly as you just did.

— JUUZOU

You put two cups of hot, beautifully fragrant chocolate on the table; one was with two white marshmallows and the other with six. Of course, it was easy to guess which portion was for Juuzou and which was for you. Nevertheless, you smiled gently and then sat down next to the white-haired boy, staring at him out of the corner of your eye.

“... About what did you dream, Juuzou-kun?” You asked softly, taking the purple cup between both hands. The warm ceramics pleasantly burned your all fingers, which made you breathe blissfully. “Of course, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to tell me. We can just sit in silence and drink our sweet cocoa.” You added after a brief second so as not to put unnecessary pressure or general stress on the nineteen-year-old.

“It’s no big deal. I dreamed about my mom.” He admitted hesitantly, also taking his dark-green mug. “When I woke up and looked at the calendar I realized we had Christmas time and... Well, my mom never gave me any, not even a small gift, nor did I ever spend that time like other children my age. It hit me a bit. Not that I regret it, but... what Christmas really is?” His short speech made you look at him with a very sad expression on your face and after a quick while you just put your warm chocolate on the table, getting up from your wooden chair and walking to a random cupboard in your smol kitchen.

This year you didn’t have time (because of work) and no idea (because of fatigue) for presents for loved ones, and even more so for the unexpected guest – Suzuya, who loved to sleep in your house because, as he once said, ‘He felt at your place very safe’, but you managed to come up with a little surprise fastly; you wrapped a red ribbon that was in the cupboard with needles and scissors around an unopened box of nut cookies. You also managed to find a piece of paper and a black pen, so you wrote a concise but sincere wishes to the inspector, which ended with a tiny heart and a star. Out of the corner of your eye, you also noticed the mistletoe lying next to the clock, which was a little joke your dear friend had made to you two days ago. So you took everything and went back to the quietly sitting Juuzou, smiling slightly at him, even a bit silly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think about gifts before, but... I hope that’s enough. After today’s work, we can go to the gallery or the park to see the decorated Christmas trees, you will surely like them. Happy Holidays, Juuzou. I hope next year will be a good one for you.” You said shyly as you handed him ribbon-decorated cookies. At the sight of them, the boy only blushed, then looked at your other hand, which was still gripping a little twig. “Ohh... it’s... such a small tradition where you get a kiss under the mistletoe.” You picked up the plant and then placed it over the white-haired young man’s head, bending down after a while and giving him a short peck on the left, smooth cheek. “Merry Christmas once again.”

“Merry Christmas to you too and... thank you for that.”

You only smirked, reaching for the mug of already cool drink. However, you weren’t disappointed in drinking the cold cocoa, because the honest, slightly timid smile of the boy you liked from the beginning of your work at CCG warmed your whole body better than any other hot chocolate, tea or coffee.

[missameliep]

The Perfect Season - Mr. Sinclaire x Hayley Parker (OC)

Book: Desire and Decorum (Modern Day AU)

Pairing: Mr. Sinclaire x Hayley Parker (OC)

Rating: G (no warnings, just general fluff)

Word count: ~1.900 words

Summary: A cold December night is perfect for reading, and having the right company to share your books can make it even better as Mr. Sinclaire has found out...

Notes: 

* English is not my first language;

* Mr. Sinclaire belongs to PixelBerry; and I'm borrowing Hayley Parker (OC) from the very talented @noesapphic, for a very special reason: this fic is my Christmas gift for you, sweetie! I hope you enjoy it! Merry Christmas, Noe! 🎁🎄

* This is my submission to @choicesficwriterscreations Fics of the week and my awfully late submission to @choicesdecemberchallenge2021 - Day 12: Currently reading | Words.

A shiver ran down Ernest Sinclaire’s spine, and it was not prompted by any of the thrilling events from the mystery novel in his hand, the one Hayley was reading when he got home. Somehow, despite every window being shut, a cold draft reached the sofa, raising all the hair in his body. It’s one of the greatest mysteries how the flat Hayley shares with Bartholomew can be agonizingly torrid during summer and freeze one’s bones during winter. Yet, neither seem to mind it a bit considering its size and privileged location near the fanciest neighbourhoods at London, best pubs and cafes and just a walking distance to the parks, something many desire and so few can achieve...

Placing the book down, he gets to his feet and strides to inspect the windows once more.

A blanket of darkness covered the city since the early afternoon. December’s days are shorter, darker, and colder. Nevertheless, the holidays rekindle London’s spirit.

The weeks before Christmas have a different atmosphere. A different buzz in the crowded streets. Tourists. Christmas markets. Enthralling decorations at Covent Garden, Oxford Street and many other places. The smell of cinnamon in the air. Mariah Carey’s voice blasting out the speakers at almost every shop. The city sparkles with light and life. Even someone who does not fancy the season like himself can see it is a special time and the city is dressed as such.

The façade of the building across the street is no exception. It sparkles with thousands of tiny lights from its Christmas’ decorations, casting a soft golden glow over Ernest’s features. This neighbourhood has some of the most elaborated decorations of the season. Despite some of them being completely over the top, Ernest Sinclaire enjoys the sights which bring back the memories from Ledford Park in all its Christmas’ glory when his grandmother was still alive.

The living room he is standing tonight contrasts deeply with those memories and the world outside. The fancy contemporary decoration now includes a fake pine tree half his size, peppered with equally fake snow, silver bows, fairy-lights and mismatched ornaments. A minimalistic decoration, Bartholomew explained back at the beginning of the month while holding a bauble; but Ernest suspects assembling the tree was merely an excuse to have friends over and drink Hayley’s special hot chocolate with spices and rum when the project was forgotten half-way through it. The hot beverage fuelled an impromptu choir who sang probably the most indecent versions of Christmas carols known by men until wee hours of the night.

Shaking his head more in amusement than rapprochement, Ernest turns the heat up and picks Hayley's knitted woollen blanket from the armchair. The pattern and hues remind him of petals and spring, and when he wraps it around his shoulders, its owner’s floral fragrance makes him smile.

Returning to the sofa, he sits closer to the floor lamp and stretches his legs to rest his socked feet on the ottoman, which are too faraway to be covered by the small blanket. Ernest holds the book closer to his face when the letters become blurred. Considering how many nights he spends with Hayley, he should’ve remembered to leave spare reading glasses at his girlfriend’s flat.

Girlfriend. He smiles. What an inebriating joy this realisation brings him.

Despite the minor inconvenience and the tiredness of the long week, he does not put the book down. He cannot stop. Maybe just another chapter. Turning the page, another passage highlighted and a little heart drawn with pencil caught his attention. The note in the foot of the page written in hurried and careless handwrite immortalised a thought, an impression, a feeling, and Hayley has chosen to share with him.

They share not only books but their experiences with them. Leaving each other this kind of notes and messages in those pages feels almost like sharing their own secret code, impressions of their inner world they invite the other in. Ultimately it says “darling, I thought of you” and how delightful it is to have someone that does think about you and fears not to tell you so. His fingers play with a caramel lock of hair, while his lips remain curled in a smile.

A click from a door and soft footsteps precede the arrival of Hayley. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she stops for a moment at the threshold adjusting to the brightness. The fairy-lights from the tree cast their white glow and illuminate her frame: brown hair cascading down one shoulder, bare long legs and body covered only by the navy sweatshirt from his days of university – one of the many pieces of his clothes that seems to now belong in her closet.

When she spots him, she walks straight to the sofa with an amused smirk. Without a word, he raises his arm and the blanket, and she snuggles against his side and rests her legs over his. Adjusting the blanket, she covers them both and her gaze meets his. Eyes full of mischief.

“Mr. Sinclaire who gave you permission to read my book!”

“Haven’t you said earlier I could have whatever I wanted?” he teased.

“The offer was in an entirely different context,” she retorted. “I expect you to at least had the decency to not have unmarked the page I stopped.”

“Of course, love. I would never be that rude.”

They chuckle and a moment later his gaze returns to the page.

The perfectly manicured red nails tap at the cover of the special hardcover edition of The Unexpected Heiressthat mimics the Art nouveau style of the decade the story is set: the golden fonts in the title against deep green, and the art portraying the silhouette of the main character Lilian, holding a hand mirror that captures the reflection of her sister Amelia.

“I thought you said this was an overly done plot.”

“It is,” he replied without tearing his gaze from the book.

“Yet you are here reading The Unexpected Heiress instead of sleeping tightly with me.”

“Just because it is an overused plot – clearly the writer drew inspiration from Agatha Christie and Connan Doyle –, it does not mean the story cannot be compelling and enjoyable. It is possible to use the tropes in their own way, creating something that even if not entirely new, can keep the readers invested... Like I am right now.”

“True,” she said, putting a hand over his chest and nudging his neck, inhaling the faint scent of the musky perfume, the same he has been using for a decade at least. The aroma has become so deeply associated with him that she adores wearing his clothes, partly to tease him and test how long it’ll take him to snap with the constant stealing of sweaters and jackets, but mostly to keep his presence longer.

His body responded to her closeness, and he took a deep breath. A glance out of the corner of her eye, and she smirks. The image he projects to the world is nothing but prim and proper, however, with her, she knows what lies underneath and the complexities of the one and only Mr. Sinclaire.

He points at another passage highlighted and a note about the description of the female character who has captured Lilian’s eyes.

“And you already knew that. You knew I would read it despite the remark anyone else would deem snobbish and rude...”

Hayley snorted and looked up at him.

“We’re past the stage of misinterpreting the other, amor[1]...”

“I agree.” His arms drew her a little closer.

“Besides, I think it became a habit... over the years, whenever I read a book, I wonder which parts you’d enjoy the most, the ones you’d hate, the quotes that remind me of you, the ones that are so bad that would make you cringe... sometimes it's just something funny we can joke later... and I don’t want to forget.”

A smile rounds his cheeks. Not that her words constitute any news, on the contrary. However, hearing her express her feelings in such an open way will never cease to amaze him.

“Hey! Don’t get cocky.” One fingertip stabbed his cheek on the hollow created by his smile. “I’m not the one writing poems!”

Chuckling, he pulled her hand to his lips. “What can I say?” he said between peppering her fingertips with kisses. “You inspire me, darling.”

Grabbing the back of his neck, she softly kissed his lips, and said nothing. In that brief quietness, Hayley couldn’t help but wonder about the flutter of butterflies in her stomach. She could lie to herself, but she knows this is not about lust. She desires him, of course, but the nature of their feeling is something else entirely.

Many times, ever since the friendship line was crossed months ago, she considered how odd that any men would stir such intense feelings! However, Ernest Sinclaire is no ordinary men, is he? And the love and bond they share is not any kind of love either.

Some think love is about possession and how far from the truth that is. So much she fought against the cages and shackles some call love – and love is not! To Hayley, love is all about belonging. It’s about choosing to stay over and over again when you could leave. Many times she feared that loving and being loved like that was not for her. Yet, it was. It is. Despite their reservations, fears and scars, they embraced it and each other. Not blindly, of course! They know the goodness, but also the ill-temper and defects of the other, and they love in spite of it all.

“How are you enjoying the book so far?” She presented a new topic when the silence prolongs and her eyelids heavily hung over her eyes.

“It is fairly good. I’ve started chapter six and –”

“Oh! That’s a good one! That’s when the investigation picks up and Lilian finds the –”

“Hayley, please!” he groaned.

“I can’t help it! I need to discuss the book and no-one is past the first chapters!”

“Alright,” he nodded. “But no spoilers!”

“I can do that. What do you think about the affair?”

“The affair could be the motive; however, I believe the findings are intended to divert the reader...”

“Elaborate.”

“It is too early to have some major twist revealed like that. Knowing P.B. Choices’ previous books, there is a usual progression in the story until the climax.”

Hayley smiled and leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Judging by that smile, I assume I’m right…”

“You said no spoilers.”

“I’m not asking for one.”

“Then keep reading and you’ll find out...” Her last words were pronounced amongst a long yawn.

“You had a long day at work, and a busy night at home –”

“An exciting night,” she corrected with a mischievous grin.

“You should go back to bed.”

“So should you. I need my favourite pillow.”

“I’ll just finish this chapter...”

Humming, she pulls the blanket tighter around her shoulder.

“And I’ll just close my eyes for a minute here...”

Content with the arrangement, Ernest pulls her closer and places a kiss on the top of her head. Balancing the book in his free hand, he resumes reading.

A few minutes later, when he reaches the end of the chapter, Hayley breathes quietly, eyes firmly shut. Carefully, to not wake her up, he places the book on the side table and gets up. In a swift motion, he takes her in his arms to carry her back to the bed.

Half-sleep she murmured, “I still don’t know what to get you for Christmas...”

Casting an amused look at her, he whispers back, “Don’t fret. I already have all I want.”

And what he wanted the most, he had in the circle of his arms. He could not be happier. The season could not get any better.

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

Note:

[1] Amor – Spanish word used as a term of endearment meaning love.

[mandoalorian]

Sugar and Spice [Maxwell Lord x Reader] - Chapter 2

Summary: When you are evicted from your apartment by your toxic ex boyfriend and have no place to go, who do you turn to? Alone in the city as the countdown to Christmas begins, you find yourself applying for a job as the assistant of the world’s biggest entrepreneur; Maxwell Lord. Little do you know, he has other intentions for you. No doubt about it, this Christmas will truly be like no other.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Eventual smut, mentions of a previous verbally abusive relationship, typical 80s misogyny (but very little of it), mentions of food and drink, alcohol consumption. This is a sugardaddy x sugarbaby fic soooo… a daddy k!nk too oops.

But in this chapter - allusions to sex and MAJOR sexual tension hehe :)

Author’s note: Chapter 2 let’s go!! I hope everyone is enjoying so far! Remember if you wanted to be added to my taglist feel free to let me know!

MASTERLIST | SUBMIT REQUESTS

PREVIOUS - CHAPTER TWO - NEXT 

You had been mesmerised just from entering Black Gold Cooperative— but actually stepping foot in Maxwell Lord's office was a whole different story. The entire building was decked out in Christmas decorations, pine trees and tinsel on every corner, but as you stepped foot in his larger-than-life office, there was not a single thing that highlighted festive spirit in sight. Nevertheless, you were in awe, immediately taking in the paintings, the pottery, the statues… it was like every little thing was embellished in gold. You hadn't even laid your eyes on Maxwell yet, but he was certainly looking at you.

You weren't exactly sure what you took a man like Maxwell Lord for. You considered him to be the tacky kind— but every piece of furniture in his office looked antique— like it came straight out of a museum. You admired the paintings on the walls. One thing's for sure, you didn't expect him to be a man who appreciated art culture. They were magnificent, and of all different shapes and sizes.

Maxwell Lord slouched back into his chair and watched you intently, his dark eyes following your every move. You were like no other girl who had come in for an interview, that's for sure. You were dressed in a thick, cream coloured winter coat and he noted the hat and gloves that were stuffed messily into your pocket. Your wet boots left a puddle of water where you had entered his office and he noted the little snowflakes balancing in your windswept, knotted hair.

He was surprised, to say the least. The past week he had been conducting interviews in-attempt to find someone suitable for the job role at hand. Dozens of young girls would confidently strut into his office— their high heels clicking against the expensive marble floor. They would try wooing him with a bat of eyelashes, which of course, Maxwell did not shame their attempts. Despite their unsuccess at acquiring the job, Maxwell did make sure they got a little something from him in return.

The businessman's eyes darted to the trash can under his desk as he looked at the discarded silk handkerchiefs he had just used to clean himself up after his last interview. Then, he re-acquainted his gaze to you, and picked up on the fact that you had yet to acknowledge his presence. You were too caught up in the furnishings of his office. You really were different.

"Ms Minerva?" Maxwell called you eventually, clearing his throat. Not recognising your newly claimed fake name, you didn't budge, but instead let your fingers trace the countries of a world map that hung on the wall. Pins had been stabbed into the capitals of most countries and you wondered what it meant. Perhaps it was all the countries he had visited— or more likely, all the companies that had shares in his black gold business. "Ms Minerva." Maxwell repeated, his voice more solid this time.

You felt your body freeze up, wondering how long he had been calling you for. Shit, you thought. You really believe you had messed up— just stumbling into his office and paying no attention to him whatsoever.

"Oh!" you gasped, spinning around on the heel of your foot, almost slipping on the water you had trailed in with you. Maxwell couldn't help but let the small smirk creep upon his lips at your clumsy but innocent nature. "Your office is… it's so…" 

"What you expected?" Maxwell prompted, leaning over the desk slightly trying to get a closer look at you.

Something about your demeanor drew him to you and he couldn't place his finger on what exactly it was. He wondered what your deal was. He wondered why you had decided to attend possibly the most prestigious interview of your life dressed the way you had. You hoped he didn't think you were deliberately ignoring him.

"No- I mean. I'm not sure what I expected, really," You admitted with a small shrug before approaching an oil painting. "This is magnificent," you said. "I've never seen such intricate work before."

The painting was huge— quite possibly the biggest one in the room. It was posed, of course, and you wondered how long the poor models had to stand there to be painted. They were positioned on a grand staircase with a purple carpet rolling up it. They looked stern- mean- not an emotion in sight.

"That's a family portrait," Maxwell informed you from his chair. "My family." 

Oh.

You digested the image of the couple with their young son. The child was no older than ten, you guessed, with dark blonde-browning hair and he was dressed in a shirt, shorts and bow tie. The couple stood behind him, and the pair consisted of a beautiful woman with red hair and pearl earrings wearing a fur coat and sleek silk dress.  "Your wife is gorgeous." You said, quietly, entranced by the family portrait.

Maxwell paused, his eyes not moving from you for a second. "That's my mother." he deadpanned.

You curled your fingers into a fist at your own shameless and idiotic comment. You could not forget how much you needed this job— you had to do better.

"Oh," you replied, feeling a flush of embarrassment wash over you. "So that little boy is you, hm? Your hair is lighter nowadays," you smiled light-heartedly but Maxwell didn't share the warm sentiment. "You look just like your father." You admitted, eyes flicking between the suited man in the painting, and the suited man who was sitting at his desk behind you.

Both men were of an average height, with broad shoulders and the same, identical cunning smirk. Big brown eyes and swept but styled hair. You very little about the Lord family — to the general public, they were always an enigma. Tabloids would spread rumours and no one ever really knew the truth. You hoped you hadn't hit a nerve with the comparison, but as seconds went on, you cursed yourself for your inability to just keep your mouth shut.

Maxwell didn't reply to your comment, and the silence was deafening. For the first time, he looked away from you and into the light oak wood of his desk which he had inherited from his late father. He let a few sad thoughts ponder his mind as you continued to scower his office looking at all the high end decor, before taking a big huff of breath. It wasn't her fault, she couldn't know any better. Maxwell told himself, but it didn't hurt any less. 

Her words stung but he pushed them back as far as he could. Blocking out his emotions was something Maxwell had done his whole life and had become quite accustomed to. This was ridiculous. Maxwell wouldn't let himself get worked up over a brief comment about his father, by a girl wearing a last season winter coat who he had never met before. He stiffened up and cleared his throat.

"Ms Minerva, if you are going to just scope my office I'd be in my right mind to call security and have you thrown out." Maxwell sighed, tapping his fingers impatiently against the desk. Your head bolted towards him.

"Oh! I'm so so sorry." you pressed your hands in a pleading manner.

As Maxwell took in your form, his mind began to race. He could get used to looking at you like that. Pleading for him— on your knees— begging for just a taste of what he had to offer. The dirty thoughts consumed his mind and he shifted in his chair feeling a familiar fire in his lower stomach. Brushing past your pretty, doe-like eyes, he reached for a gold fountain pen and an expensive looking journal, opening it up.

"Why are you here?" Maxwell asked, dropping the pen, slouching back into his leather chair and kicking his feet up on his desk. You swallowed the hard lump that had appeared in your throat as you took in his posture.

"Uhm, well I- uh-" you struggled to find words. My god he was attractive. You hadn't paid much attention before, but now that he was sitting there right before your eyes, you felt a small warmth creep up between your legs.

He was just lounging right before you— his body spread out. He wasn't wearing the smart suit jacket as you had pictured, but instead, a crisp white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You could see the light hair on his arms glisten under the setting sun, and the yellow gold of his Rolex wristwatch sparkle as he played with the rings on his fingers.

Maxwell caught you staring at his hands. How could you not? Teasingly, he began rolling his jewelled rings up and down his long thick fingers. You found yourself biting your lower lip, pulling all your energy into suppressing a moan as you watched the way his fingers moved. You took in every detail, wanting to remember it forever— the light bronzed shade of his skin and the wrinkles over his knuckles. His nails were short but definitely well manicured. You let out the smallest gasp as you imagined how they would feel inside of you. You wondered how many of his fingers you could take and how they would stretch you open. You imagined his thumb rubbing circles into your clit as he finger fucked you and suddenly you felt your panties dampen. Your knees went weak.

He moved his large ring clad hands and folded them against his broad chest, a devilish smirk playing on his lips. You always wondered to what extent his magazine covers had been edited but he was just as handsome as he was on television, in real life. One thing you noticed was that his usual styled dark blonde hair was only slightly out of place, and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. It was a change from his ordinary pristine appearance. Seeing that you were struggling to answer his question, Maxwell pointed his finger and gestured you closer to him. You walked towards him and stood still in front of him, only his desk between you both.

"Take it off." he mumbled, his gaze strong and steady on your body. You swore your mind was playing games on you as you engulfed his dark choice for words. You were absolutely ready to submit to him but deep down you knew that you were over-thinking.

"I- I'm sorry?" You croaked out.

His smirk grew and a small dimple appeared in his left cheek. "Your coat. Take it off." He commanded and you mouthed a small 'oh' before following his instructions and dropping your wet winter coat to the floor.  You cursed yourself. You were ready to completely undress yourself for this man you had never met before. Did he have this effect on everyone? "Turn around." he prompted you, twirling his finger in gesture. You slowly spun around a few times and Maxwell was struggling to contain himself.

You were delightful— wearing just a pair of washed out flared jeans and a geometric print t shirt. The jeans were very 70s, flaring out at the bottom, and Maxwell wondered how out of date your wardrobe was. He wondered if you'd let him take you out clothes shopping. Maxwell felt flushed as he took in how perfectly the denim sculpted your thighs and the round of your ass. He found your body exquisite. The t-shirt was thin, and he was surprised you had opted for such a fashion choice in the depth of winter. Despite the central heating being turned on, he couldn't help but notice the way your nipples poked through your shirt, hardened from the cold weather— or so he assumed they were hard from the cold weather. You felt his eyes bore into your chest and you crossed your arms over yourself, hoping he hadn't spotted your arousal. Maxwell felt his cock twitch at the sight of you and he fought the urge to bend you over and fuck you right then and there on his desk. You had an air of innocence to you, and he didn't want to ruin that. At least, not yet.

"Is everything okay sir?" Your voice was soft like honey and a small grunt escaped Maxwell's throat. He had just gotten off with his previous interviewee but you were simply something else.

"Perfect," he hummed wistfully. "Please, take a seat." You obeyed his order and slid down into the chair opposite to him. "Tell me, Ms Minerva. What urged you to lie about your identity?"

You felt your heart stop and your fingers gripped the arms of your chair. Shit, you thought to yourself. He had caught on. You gulped and tried to find a quick witted yet believable response to him but it you couldn't. Normally you were great at answering back but sitting before Maxwell Lord had you feeling some kind of way and you couldn't shake it.

"Tell me, who are you really?" He urged. You contemplated his words and decided there was no pointing in continuing your long winded lie. You were surprised you had made it this far without getting caught in the first place. He was still smirking, however, and it seemed like he didn't really care at all. Giving in, you told him your real name.

"Mr Lord, if I may ask, how did you know I wasn't Barbara Minerva?" you asked Maxwell.

"I can read minds." Maxwell said darkly, staring deep into your eyes.

Oh, his eyes. They had darkened significantly— once a chocolate brown but now they could easily be confused for black. Suddenly the extravagant decor around his office had become a mere back thought and you had been absolutely captured by his handsome looks. His skin was golden under the setting sun behind him and it accentuated the blonde highlights in his hair. His eyelashes were long and dark and his lips were the perfect shape. His nose was rather prominent and curved slightly and you imagined what it would be like pressed against your face as he kissed you. 

You wanted him to take you in his arms and glide his large hands all over your body, caressing you and touching you everywhere he could. Sliding his hand up your shirt and cupping your breast as he settled lazy sloppy kisses into your neck and collarbones. Realising you had been silent for perhaps a moment too long, you let out a loud laugh.

"Right," you chortled in disbelief. "Read minds. Very funny." you grinned and you even caught him stifle down a dry chuckle.

"I like you," Maxwell admitted and you felt your heart stop. "I think you'd be well suited working for me. Of course… we might have to sort out your wardrobe. I'd like to offer you a job."

He had barely asked you any questions and he already made his mind up. You couldn't believe your luck.

"Wait, really?" you asked, your eyes widening with delight.

Maxwell nodded slowly. "Did one of my secretaries have you sign an NDA on your way in here?" 

"Yes sir," you bit your lip anxiously. You had wondered what the non-disclosure agreement was for.

"So you know that if you repeat any of this to anyone else after our interview is over, I can and will sue you."

Not that you had any money anyway, his cold words still made you nervous. He was one of the most powerful men in the world. Friends with the president of the USA, he had relations with practically every country who bought his oil, and now, he was offering you a job.

"Yes sir." you repeated obediently, fluttering your eyelashes at him. The way that word rolled off your tongue— He felt his cock harden in his pants. You were just so damn pretty.

"I have to tell you then," Maxwell leaned forward on his desk, interlocking his fingers together. He was inches away from you, gazing into your eyes. "I'm not looking for an assistant." His voice was dark and menacing and a lustful glint appeared in his eyes.

"You- you're not?" You stammered, feeling your cheeks flush with heat. You wondered what job you had actually gone for.

"How familiar are you with sugar dating?" Maxwell raised an eyebrow, his eyes now glaring dark and sinister.

"Su-sugar dating?"

You weren't overly familiar, but sure, you had read your fair share of erotic novels that illustrated such prospect.

Maxwell stood up from his chair and walked around his desk before perching on top of it and looking down at you. "I'm looking for a certain kind of arrangement, per-se," Maxwell explained. "You give me what I want, and I give you what you want. Money, clothes, diamonds, jewellery, cars… whatever your heart desires. It's yours. Think about finally having everything you always wanted."

Your gaze met the floor as you contemplated his words. No, he couldn't be serious. He had the wrong girl. "Sir," your voice was a timid whisper. "I don't think I possess anything you could want." you told him sadly, insecurity bubbling inside you. He was the Maxwell Lord. Esteemed, knowledgeable, reputable, and he worked amongst the most beautiful and well dressed women you had ever seen. Yet, here you were, sitting before him, and he had chosen you.

Maxwell shook his head. "No." he said simply, extending his arm and curling his fingers around your chin, pointing it upwards so you were looking up at him. He wanted to trace your pretty lips with his fingers— spread them apart and feel the warmth as he let you taste him.

"No?" You beckoned, your heart trashing against your chest. His hands were so soft but his touch was rough and he steadied the hard grip around your face. If it were any other man, you would've pushed him off you, cursing him. But this wasn't just any man. 

"You have everything I want."

December Magic: @kiwi-the-first​ @100layersofdaddyissues​ @mrschiltoncat​ @honeymandos​ @thisisthe-way​ @this-cat-is-dea​ 

Permanent: @goth-topic​  @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria​ 

[hitsuhinahappiness]

Scar Map - All Sewn Up

(T/W: Swearing and language)

The journey back through the Senkaimon was typical at first, to say the least, and the squad ten captain was not surprised that his chipper lieutenant was, still, bouncing off the walls as they walked to the other end of the massive channel to take them home. 

“Why couldn’t we have just stayed a little bit longer, Captain?” The strawberry blonde complains. 

“I wanted to do a little more shopping! I had only scratched the surface of the Karakura Mall when we were so abruptly and rudely summoned home!” Only the sound of the soft padding of their sandals against the dirt interrupted the silence that the lieutenant did not take up.

Her captain sighed. It was clear by the tone of her voice she was only trying to lighten the mood. Nevertheless, he was going to lecture her. 

“It can’t be helped, Matsumoto. We have to report back to the head captain. We cannot return to the world of the living without backup. These arrancars, they’re much too strong for just us alone to handle. Even Ichigo Kurosaki couldn’t defeat one of the Espadas. For all we know, they’re going to invade the Soul Society next. Tactically, their next move could be to eliminate all those who pose a threat to their plans. That includes the captains, the lieutenants, anyone who could stand a chance in a battle with a soldier of his undead army.” His silvery eyebrows furrowed as he trudged through the gravel. 

Aizen. What hell are you doing with Orihime Inoue? Did you think no one would notice? That no one cared for her, or that they wouldn't come for her? You seem to have a nasty habit of swiping loved ones for your own personal gain.. His loose hands at his side became tightly wound fists.

He shook it off as he heard Matsumoto begin to speak again, this time, taking on a somber tone. 

“Soldiers… Captain, could they really be starting an army? Aizen, Tosen… and Gin?”

“They are, and they have created their own militia. Now, we need to get back and hunker down. We need to prepare the Soul Society for whatever may come next.” 

“The captain’s right, Rangiku,” Ikkaku starts. 

“It doesn’t matter now, all that matters is that we prepare the others, and make sure that we have enough muscle to destroy these bastards. We won’t let them take our home or the souls of the innocent.” 

“How mature of you, Ikkaku. I’m so proud!” Yumichika chimes in. 

“Mature? I’m always mature, mature’s my middle name.” He rebukes. 

“Yeah, sure..”

“Would all of you be quiet!? Just for once?” Toshiro calls from ahead of the trio. 

“We’ve almost arrived.” 

“I think you’re just grumpy because you get to didn’t spend enough quality time with M--”

“Do not.” He interrupts sharply without looking back. Rangiku burns holes in the back of his head with her laser beam eyes. She had been trying to gain more information about Momo’s wellbeing ever since she heard her captain speaking to her on the video monitor back at Orihime’s house. 

I heard her voice, but.. 

Matsumoto turns to look back at Ikkaku and Yumichika, who have struck up a conversation of their own about the Aizen situation, and then briskly strides a little faster to catch up to her captain. 

Then she was just… gone..

“Is it that bad?” Rangiku murmurs from behind him, her eyes slanted with worry. She noticed his shoulders tense, and he took a long pause before uttering his next words quietly.

“... I don’t know what to do… how am I supposed to explain this all to her? He has her so--...” As if his voice wasn’t low and chilling enough, he forces out the word even more hushed between gritted teeth.

“Brainwashed.” He swallows hard and looks up as the slight glint of the portal catches his eye. 

“If anyone can bring her back, Captain,” Matsumoto says as they approach the Soul Society once more. 

“It’s you, and she will come back to you. You know that, don’t you? At some point, she’ll have to realize that Aizen was never there for her in the way you have been her entire life.” They walk into the blinding light side by side, followed by the two from the Zaraki squad. 

“I truly hope you’re right, Rangiku.”

______________________________________________________________

“This Captain’s meeting is now in session. Pay attention everyone.” The Head Captain’s booming voice calls out to all the ten remaining captains. 

“We know now that Souske Aizen, Traitor of the Soul Society and the Thirteen Court Guard Squads, is forming a militia of his own, and his base of operations, as reported and confirmed by Captain Hitsugaya and his team, is Hueco Mundo. We suspect he is preparing to harness the power of the Hogyoku to obliterate the barriers between this realm, the hollow realm, and the world of the living. We must prepare for worst-case scenario outcomes. Now, we do not know exactly how powerful some of the men in his army are, however..” 

Yamamoto drones on and the captains all listen respectfully, but Captain Hitsugaya’s thoughts are elsewhere. 

Where was Sasakibe holding Momo? And what were they doing with her? Is she asleep again? Is she alright? Or is she scared? 

He stared down at his feet intently, itching to see her again, to know that she was okay. He was too caught up in his thoughts that he failed to notice the Head Captain beckoning him until he was snapped out of his own head with a stern, 

“Toshiro Hitsugaya. I have asked you to report!” 

Toshiro looks up, blinking and tightening his jaw. He takes a deep breath before answering. 

“My apologies, Head Captain, there’s just a lot to digest. These arrancar, they’re strong. Much stronger than we’ve anticipated. As we’ve learned, the Adjuchas are the lower-level, pawn-like soldiers in his army. These Adjuchas level soldiers had all five of us nearly defeated, and it took the release of the Gentei Kaijo for us to finally be able to turn the battles in our favor. However, we know that Aizen has soldiers who are much stronger than even these Adjuchas, who we were just able to eliminate after using all of our capabilities. The strength of these humanoid-hollows is… unimaginable. One of the more elite soldiers was there, in Karakura town. His spiritual pressure was immense. It was… an ocean of spirit energy. He attacked Rukia Kuchiki of Squad 13 and the substitute soul reaper, Ichigo Kurosaki, and injured them both severely, although this arrancar was summoned back to Hueco Mundo before either of them were killed. He arrived once more in the World of the Living about a month later with three other arrancars. We were able to fend them off and nearly defeat them, until they escaped once again, this time taking Orihime Inoue, friend of the substitute soul reaper, Ichigo Kurosaki, with them. It appears she went voluntarily to Hueco Mundo, and it seems Souske may be interested in her… special powers. Aizen has also arranged ten of the most powerful arrancar at his disposal to serve as his most trusted informants. These soldiers are his muscle, the strongest among his hollow subordinates. The arrancar that Ichigo Kurosaki and Rukia Kuchiki battled was one of these powerful “Vasto Lorde”. They are called ‘Espada’. Throughout the mission, we were able to eliminate a few of Aizen’s arrancar. However, we are still unsure as to how many men he has in total. It would seem that there are still ten remaining Espada, and an unknown number of arrancar pawns.”  

No one speaks as the information sinks into each of the captains’ minds. A quiet murmur of conversation begins to rise in the air like dust on a windy day out in the Rukongai. An unspoken question hangs above them like a guillotine blade, 

“Are we doomed?”

“Silence!” Yamamoto’s voice swoops through the chatter and once again, the meeting room is silent. 

“Our job is to ensure that each and every one of us becomes stronger. We need to be strong enough to crush Souske Aizen’s plan before he even has a chance to set it into motion! We now have three months for preparations. Come winter, everyone must be ready for all-out war.” 

_____________________________________________________________

A/N: Well, I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter! There’s much more to come. I’ve edited all that I have so far, and perfected it the way I saw fit, grammar and spelling wise. I’m not sure how long this will end up being, but I guess I’ll just keep writing as long as I have the inspiration! Constructive Criticism and suggestions are always welcome. Much love and joy and peace to you all!! 

[rinharu-purple]

Night on Fire and on the importance of an unbreakable bond

 I’ve made it! I am finally done writing this analysis, even though it’s not a long one. #damnprocrastination

Without a doubt, there are numerous dates with Gavin which serve as trademarks of Gavin’s lore such as the Blind Date, the Trio Date or the Spring Festival Date. The karmas from these dates are everywhere, any Gavin-stan knows the lines of these dates like their own names and surely these dates have highly charming plots.

To me, some dates that receive less attention harbor many special messages but also important insights to Gavin’s character as well as his relationship with MC. Night on Fire is one of them.

Spoilers start below this line

Night on Fire Date, which takes place between main story CH14 and CH15, reveals the challenging time period between Gavin and MC’s fall from the TV tower and the saddest and the most painful separation Gavin and MC are yet to endure.

As it happens fairly frequently, when this date takes place exactly is a little bit tricky. MC says that Gavin is taking her to and from work, however at the beginning of CH15 MC rests at home and is depressed. So my guess is, the date takes around the same time Perry’s story unfolds starting CH15-11, because it is then, that MC goes to work for the first time in a while and Gavin does indeed come to pick her up from work:

This would make sense, since in the date MC makes a remark on Gavin abruptly leaving for a mission and says that she hasn’t seen him in a week. That would collide with the time period, where Gavin meets Litton and investigates the destiny of the evolvers he arrested. And because this investigation is something he’s doing behind the scenes, I believe that he is investigating the arsenist case to appear normally occupied so no one suspects him for doing anything beyond that case.

Anyways, while MC was thinking about Gavin and how much she wished he could accompany her to an event organized by their favorite author, a fire alarm breaks out and MC has to go the police station for submitting her witness statement. There, she runs into this fabulously focused Gavin:

Seeing each other after a long week, they go to Lynn’s Kitchen to grab some food and as usual, our lovebirds give the order from each other spontaneously (brings a smile to my face everytime that happens ^_^). After that he drops her off at the Expo Center, where the book launch takes place and return to the STF HQ. There, he finds out via four corner system (a Chinese system for the purpose of decoding I fail to understand) that the next arson is going to take place at the Expo Center, so he tries to warn MC in time and he manages to do so. But MC’s altruistic side gets the better of her and she tries to evacuate the center but gets caught by the perpetrator. The author admits that he is indeed the arsonist and the reason he is doing this is because he’s lost the control over his evol. The following minute, he sets the room on fire with MC trapped in it.

Luckily Gavin shows up and saves her, for the price of him being engulfed by the waves of flames. Afterwards he manages to take an unconscious MC to an hotel nearby.

Both of them are covered in grime and soot and MC is still struggling with speaking. Nevertheless their thoughts are the one and the same:

This is such an important moment in their relationship that it shows after the events of CH12-14, Gavin has now fully overcome his fear of fire, thus having closure on one of the most challenging struggles in his life. But also MC is back to her old courageous self, thus no longer self depreciating because they are giving each other courage and strength. The roots of MC and Gavin’s relationship lies in how they’re mirroring each other. As Litton says in CH26-7, they are they are exactly alike in their way of thinking and personality:

Since they both enjoy reading the same author, MC thinks about getting Gavin an autograph, when they go to a restaurant they automatically order for each other, in a moment of peril, all they care about is the safety of each other. She is his source of power and vice versa. The love and faith they give each other is the source of their strength that aids them in overcoming their hardest struggles. This is the definition of a long lasting, healthy relationship.

What happens next in the date, is that they melt into each other through a tight embrace which MC describes as follows:

“His warm embrace is intoxicating, I pull him closer towards me...The thing that follows fire, enters me, burning, screaming... a secret force, binding us together. Always and forever... “

Thinking about what follows this emotional moment which binds MC and Gavin even stronger is the most violent separation imaginable simply breaks my heart. Just think about it. Gavin left MC at the end of CH12 as his evol went haywire and met her again only by the end of CH14 as she fell from the top of the TV tower after facing the challenge all by herself. After this fall, both have suffered both physically and mentally. MC was blaming herself and Gavin was trying to make sense of the corruption within his organisation. Gavin managed to lift MC’s spirit up and they overcame their fears and despair with the love and faith they have for each other all the while strengthening their bond, only to go through the worse of the worst in the second half of CH15, where MC was hospitalized again, but also Gavin’s resolve reached to the brink of breaking completely as he failed to protect MC without his evol, thus accepting the NW project from his father. After that, they don’t reunite in their original selves until CH26!!! For a whole 11 chapters they won’t meet again, that’s crazy even for the Papergames’s standards! 

Taking this whole course of events into consideration, everything that happens prior to the final scene of CH15 plays a crucial role in Gavin and MC’s relationship as well as their character development. Especially the events of CH15 alongside with this date solidify the unbreakable bond between Gavin and MC that never weakens. Not during the Eternal Winter, and not in S2. Let’s just hope, that they don’t go through a such devastating fate again in S2.

For an in depth analysis of CH15, you can click here.

Masterlist

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

So that’s it everybody. Thank you very much for your patience and support.

I hope you like it. If there are other dates, on which you would like to read an analysis, just let me know. Gavin’s dates are preferred, since I possess the most knowledge on his lore, but any LI is ok. And who knows, that way I could get to know the other guys better too :)

[yukimoji]

Memory ( Platonic Sakonji Urokodaki x Young!Reader, Ft. Sabito )

[ Can i request urokodaki x orphan y/n? Urodoki became a doting grandpa 🤣Would it be fun? ]

(a/n: this takes place before Urokodaki adopted Giyuu and Tanjiro! Sabito and reader is around 5-6 years old. This starts of as a scenario, but it transitions into a headcanon form midway, I hope ya’ll dont mind (⌒_⌒;) 

 Sorry for the huge delay, thanks for requesting and i hope ya’ll enjoy reading! (*^‿^*) ) 

Total words: 2300+ words

Genre: Starts out Angsty, but becomes Fluff midway.  

No manga spoilers

Warnings: Urokodaki is kinda ooc if u squint enough, but it’s doting Grandpa Urokodaki so OuO;;;

--

It was a snowy day; the village was heavily covered with mountains of snow ranging from the rooftops to the stony ground. To everybody else, it was a day when kids could run wild and have fun in the winter season. Some might have made snowmen, others have made snow angels, and a few have gone as far as starting intense snowball fights.

For other children; yes. It was a perfect day just to go out and hang out with some friends. But not you.

You leaned against the hard stone wall, your fragile body shivering violently from the unforgiving winter cold. Clutching on your ragged and torn blanket even tighter, you sighed in exhaustion as a cold fog escaped from your mouth. You pushed your little figure to hug itself even tighter, trying desperately to warm yourself up, but to no avail.

You were filthy, hungry, and lonely. Looking up tiredly, you stared at the group of kids laughing and playing in the snow filled streets, never noticing once that there was a lone child in the corner that was shivering in the harsh cold. Your lips were pressed into a thin line, your eyebrows were scrunched together as you continued to eye the kids with underlying envy.

As each day passes by, you could gradually feel yourself decaying. What was once well tamed [H / C] hair was now heavily disheveled and filled with knots, clean [S / C] skin now filled with grime and dirt, and your once-vibrant [E / C] eyes sheds its childlike innocence and sparks the longer you suffer in the streets.

Tearing your lonely eyes away from the laughing children, you shifted your attention to the plush teddy bear beside you. It was the last present you ever got from your parents before they were violently murdered by a Demon. The first time you saw the toy, it looked so vibrant and new, but as months passed, it soon deteriorated and had lots of tears and holes in it.

Nevertheless, you still loved the toy to death.

Holding it close, your eyes eventually began to flutter as you gradually began to feel tired. A pained sob escaped from your lips as you struggled to fight back against tears threatening to escape your eyelids. You were completely drained that you lost your sense of your surroundings, as you overlooked the sound of snow crunching that was approaching you.

Soon enough, you felt a figure in front of you, and the delicious scent of hot tea reaches out to invade your senses. Slowly looking up, a man with a red Tengu mask was kneeling in front of you, extending out his hand to offer a cup of hot tea.

Your initial reaction was confusion; who was this man? Why was he there? Why was he offering you tea? You stared at him, your eyes flickering with uncertainty and slight hesitation. He grunts softly, apparently understanding your reluctance towards him.

"You are cold, are you not?" He speaks out, his gruff voice surprisingly filled with warmth and concern.

You were taken aback from the tone of his voice; nobody had talked to you like that in months.

You kept staring at him, your mind whirling around with conflicting thoughts. You felt so unsure if you were to trust this man; he was a total stranger! And you knew better than trusting strangers so easily. However, you could detect the radiant warmth coming from him. You could sense his intentions, and it felt so genuine and true.

Steadily, with your hands shaking, you lifted your palms to accept the cup. It was hot, but it was a comforting kind of warm. You placed the edge of the cup in your mouth, and you started drinking the tea. Heat started rushing all over your body as you kept finishing your drink.

He asks for your name, how you came about in the streets, and if you had anywhere else to go. After a brief silence, he asks where your parents were in a cautious tone.

Suddenly, visions of the dead bodies of your parents erupted in your mind, and you could feel that your chest was beginning to hurt again. The familiar feeling of overwhelming sorrow began to overwhelm you, a knot forming on your throat as the familiar feeling suffocated you once again. You couldn't stop a sob from escaping your mouth, and you attempted to hide in your ragged blanket as tears began to spill away from your eyelids. The man sees your discomfort, and places his hand on your little head to tenderly caress it in an effort to console you.

Then, little quick crunches of snow speedily approached you, as a warm and thick blanket was placed over you. Your tears came to a halt as the sensation of an unfamiliar blanket was draped over you, and you looked up to meet a pair of lavender eyes that belonged to a male child who looked about your age. The boy gave you sheepish smile, and he turned his gaze to the adult who was consoling you. You learned that the lavender-eyed boy's name is "Sabito", and the old man who generously offered you tea is "Urokodaki".

In a blink of an eye, you unexpectedly find yourself sitting in a ramen shop with a delicious Ramen bowl in front of you. Urokodaki, after hearing your stomach rumble with hunger, offered to buy you a meal at a nearby restaurant. Sabito expressed his enthusiasm at this, and after seeing how much he seemed to trust Urokodaki, your doubt and uncertainty seemed to fade away as you meekly accepted his offer.

At that moment, you could sense so much comfort and tenderness radiating from both of them. It's as if all the suffering you've experienced over the last few months had simply been washed away. Yet you were still hesitant; what if it was all just a joke? They had to leave at some point, and you were afraid that you would wound up again in the cold streets.

That is, until Urokodaki offered you to stay with him and Sabito.

They were kind enough to help you out in the streets. They fed you, and they gave you a new blanket for much needed heat as you rotted away. Nobody would help you, nobody even glanced at you. They could well have ignored you like everyone else, but no, they genuinely made an attempt to help you in such difficult circumstances.

So, you agreed to go with them. Which proved to be the greatest decision you ever made.

Urokodaki's cottage was situated on a mountain, and although it was small, they nevertheless did their best to make room for you.

The first few days have been rough. Despite living under the roof a being surrounded by warm blankets, you spent those days lying awake in cold sweat. You tried your best to adjust, you really did, but the familiar feeling of sitting on ice cold gravel never seemed to leave. Not only that, as soon as you try to shut your eyes to get some sleep, the images of your parents will flash in your head, leaving you a whimpering and sobbing mess.

With Urokodaki's keen sense of smell, he could smell your distress over a mile away. He knew that you had a hard time to adjust, it wasn't surprising. However, it pained him how absolutely strong your sorrowful scent was. He could hear your loud whimpers and sobs from your room, and he felt his chest ache from your suffering.  

But nothing could prepare him from what was happening behind your closed door.

There you were, thrashing around in your futon, blankets and pillows thrown haphazardly in every possible direction. Tears were continuously running down your face as you hiccuped and sobbed aggressively.

Urokodaki felt his breath hitch and, in a flash, he knelt at your side and softly raised your head to his lap. He placed a hand on your head, and he started to draw soothing circles to calm you down. Minutes passed, and it seemed like you had calmed down a bit, but tears were still running down your eyelids. After much thought, he started to sing a gentle lullaby, filling the room with soft hums and melodies.  

After a while, he felt you relax as you were finally greeted with sleep. In the corner of his eye, he saw you grip onto your worn out teddy bear even tighter, and made a mental thought to do something special that he hoped will lift your spirits up.

The next morning, you woke up, pleasantly surprised that you had a decent amount of sleep, given that you haven't had a good night's sleep in ages. When you started to come back to your senses, you felt another person in the room with you.

You shifted your body to face the unknown figure, only to be greeted with a sleeping Urokodaki. He was sleeping on the cold floor, his body laying just a few feet away from you.

Days pass by, and you found yourself growing closer to Urokodaki and Sabito. You spent most of your time Sabito, and it got to the point where you even considered him as your brother. He liked to play Sword Fights with you, proudly announcing his dream to become the best version a man could ever be.

On the other hand, Urokodaki acted more like a caretaker to you. He took care you, fed you meals day after day, buying you new clothes, and even went as far as carving you little trinkets and toys to play around with. Soon enough, the harsh winter had ended, and just like the colorful spring blossoms, you transformed into a bright and optimistic child again.

You were forever grateful for Urokodaki's generosity. So of course, you would always try to help out Urokodaki in anyway you can. Cleaning the house, taking care of the plants, accompanying him in travels, you name it.

There was never a dull day when both of them were around. Laughter always filled the cottage as you and Sabito ran around, while Urokodaki silently stood there, keeping a watchful eye on the two of you. If you looked close enough, you swear you could see a smile peeking through his mask.

You later learned that Urokodaki is a trainer for upcoming Demon Slayers. Urokodaki would tell you and Sabito stories of his adventures; and they never failed to entertain both of you. While Sabito was eager and excited for the day when Urokodaki would start training him, you were still deciding whether or not you would join him and become a Slayer yourself in the near future.

Stargazing was also a thing where you, Sabito, and Urokodaki would bond about. You and Sabito would lay your heads on Urokodaki's lap as the two of you would excitedly point at the stars above. Urokodaki would gently caress your heads every once in while, and he would occasionally talk about interesting facts about the stars and moon in the night sky.

Urokodaki is a man with few words. Naturally, he only spoke when absolutely necessarily, however, there is a saying that actions speak louder than words.

On nights where you would have nightmares, Urokodaki would immediately be there for you.

"It's all right, little one. You'll be okay. I'm here for you."

He 'd reassure you, comfort you, and sing you lullabies until you were overcome by sleep again. Without fail, whenever you needed him the most, he was always right on time.

One day, he took notice of your ragged and torn up teddy bear, and asked he could borrow it. At this point, you grew even closer to him, so you trusted him and let him borrow your precious toy.

After a long day of doing chores and playing with Sabito, you were all huddled up on a fire as you all ate your supper. Sabito was rambling about random things, and you were nodding and laughing as he continued on to explain things in a "manly" manner. Urokodaki sat there in silence, watching how the two of you seemed to get along so well made his heart swell with pride. He had a surprise for you, and he hoped that you would like it.

"[ Y / N ]." He spoke. You turned your head to face Urokodaki, and you felt yourself freeze in your spot as you noticed the object in his hands.

It was your teddy bear; all patched up and clean, just like how it looked like so long ago.

It looked like Urokodaki really outdid himself; there wasn't any tears and holes where it used to have, it's dull color had reverted back to the vibrancy it used to have, and its eyes were now full of life.

Warmth quickly spread over your chest as you continued gazing at your beloved teddy bear. A gasp of disbelief came out of your mouth as your eyes began to water. You couldn't contain yourself as you suddenly launched yourself in the direction of Urokodaki, capturing him tightly in a warm embrace. A big smile transformed your lips as you shouted out your gratitude to Urokodaki; the latter only laughing softly as he returned your embrace with utmost sincerity.

Slowly, he swayed side by side as you continued your assault at him. Sabito gazed at the two of you with a loving expression on his face, as well as the feeling of joy and love continuing to engulf him. Under his mask, Urokodaki felt the sides of his lips curled upward, as he also tried to fight back against the tears that threatened to fall as you continued to nuzzle on his shoulder.

Though, nothing could prepare him for the words that you would mutter out as tears sheer joy fell from his cheeks.

"Thank you. I love you, Urokodaki-san."

[foreficfandom]

The Arcana - Taking Care Of Sick MC

(Minor trigger warnings for: mentions of the in-game plague, fear of sickness, medicinal bugs)

– Asra –

Asra notices your cold the same time you do. Right when he wakes up next to you and sees your pallid complexion, he immediately knows you’ve got the bug.

He usually takes any chance he can get to sleep in, but not this time. First a gentle word of assurance, then quickly to the kitchen to heat up some water for a medicinal tea mix. As the water boils, he feels your neck and face - not too hot. Thankfully it’s not serious, just inconvenient. 

Expect a lot of home remedies. Healing magic is too ostentatious for a simple cold, and it’s not a field Asra’s familiar with, anyways. He insists you eat some porridge, and drink lots of honeyed water. There’s lots of mugs of various teas, some awfully bitter but Asra insists you bear with it. You get a very pungent astringent balm on your chest for congestion, and he can’t hold in his giggles when you complain about how much it burns.

A lot of these remedies are trusted green witchery. Asra isn’t super skilled at making tinctures, but it’s enough to help a cold. Some he learned while studying magic, some he actually did invent.

He’s gonna manage the shop while you sleep. He lights lavender incense and mint candles, and Faust also stays upstairs to keep you company. Every hour he does a quick check to make sure you’re doing alright, or not sneaking out of bed. If he catches you, he bodyblocks you with a smirk until you sheepishly crawl back under the covers.

When there’s a lull in the shop, Asra hangs out at your bedside with a book, or some small chores he can quietly do with his hands. If you’re awake, the two of you chat a bit, mostly he does to save the strain on your throat. 

His herb teas do make a difference, and by evening you feel better. Bit more porridge and a hot bath, and your fever’s waned a lot. Asra drags out the comfiest blankets to wrap you tightly. Unfortunately, you’re gonna have to sleep alone tonight while Asra takes the couch, just to be safe.

Once you feel better, you finally get kisses. The best reward for recovery.

– Julian –

You’re in luck. Julian may have been described as a ‘hack doctor’ by certain bitter individuals, but in truth he’s a trusted physician well versed in internal medicine. All he’s gotta do is see your watery eyes and red nose, and he’s on the case. 

His clinic has some of the top-of-the-line medical technology, including a spiffy glass stick with a line of liquid mercury encased inside, which expands according to temperature. He has you sit on a patient bed and checks the inside of your throat, feels your face for lumps, uses a magnifying glass on your eyes and ears, lays his head on your chest to hear your lungs, all the things he does as a working doctor. 

It can even be a bit weird to see Julian switch into ‘professional’ mode while handling you. He’s got impeccable bedside manners, keeping you cheery and comforted as he pokes and prods, but you’re not just some patient, he’s your boyfriend and it’s kinda odd (or sexy???) to be sitting in his clinic like this. 

Nevertheless, he eventually diagnoses you with “a godly beauty and shining soul - oh, and also you have a cold”. He actually has you take up one of the beds in the clinic rather than go back upstairs to the apartment, and voila, an assistant registers you on the roster as an inpatient. There’s a reason for that, other than to make you blush - this way, he can prescribe medications. 

You get four servings of this awful tar-like tincture made out of lungwort, crab’s eye, snail venom, and other obscure ingredients. Assistants come by to wipe your face with a cold towel, and check your vitals. They don’t acknowledge your relationship with Julian, only treating you with the gentlest of respect. Jokes would be inappropriate, and Julian’s clinic values professionalism. They care about your health more than embarrassing you. 

The next morning, you wake to Dr. Julian announcing you nearing recovery already. But he doesn’t actually dismiss you until the fever’s completely gone, which means being stuck in the clinic for a couple of days and witnessing firsthand how strict Dr. Julian can be when it comes to his patients. At least it’s an excuse to see him more often. But you’re thankful to finally escape the role of the patient, and back to being Julian’s partner. Your bill? Several kisses!

– Nadia –

It’s just a cold, but Nadia immediately calls in the court doctor to perform a full physical. A hidden part of her normally-rational brain balks at any indication that someone she cares about might be sick. Blame the plague. 

Luckily it’s just a minor fever, so you’re prescribed lots of liquids and bedrest, along with some immunity-boosting citrus lozenges. Within a few minutes the servants retrofit the bedroom to be warm and invitingly dim, place heated bedpans under your feet, light sheh smoke, and deliver a large tray to your bedside. A teapot of water is kept hot over a miniature coal burner.

Nadia takes as much of her free time to dote on you. Which, unfortunately, isn’t a whole lot of time, she can only help you drink some ginger tea and wipe your face before she’s due for Countess work. But she positions a guard at your door with instructions that they’re to wait on your every whim. 

She spends the whole day thinking about you in the back of her mind, hoping you’re at least comfortable and healing properly. She finally gets a break for lunch, and rushes to the bedroom to check on you; you’re sitting up and reading, and she’s happy you’re well enough to enjoy yourself but you should be sleeping! Did the servants bring up your broth yet, have you taken your lozenges and tea, is your bedpan too cold, is the fire stoked too high

You try to calm her down through your stuffy nose; rarely do you see her so flustered. Nadia and you have lunch, and she’s eating the same thing you are because she’s not gonna eat delicious roasts while you’re stuck with broth.  

Duties again call her away until evening (she had dinner with dignitaries), and she gets the servants to run you a bath with rosemary and mint to help open up your sinuses. The two of you spend the night in separate rooms which makes you whine and her tempted to abandon decades of royal dignity to join you.

But before too long, you’re all better and life resumes as normal. She promises to dote on you no matter the state of your health.

– Muriel –

He hears you cough and says bluntly, “you have a cough”. You’ve known him well enough to know that in Muriel-speak, that translates to “I recognize that sound, and I’m going to help you take care of it”. Living in the forest can be hazardous to one’s health, and Muriel has a lot of experience with colds, fevers, and infections.

First step is to stoke the fire to blazing temperatures, then heating lots of clean water for tea and soup. He wraps you in multiple furs until you’re a pile seated near the hearth. He props the door open to let in fresh air, which offsets the uncomfortably sauna-like heat of the fire. A bundle of lemongrass is thrown into the hearth to smoke a citrusy scent throughout the hut, soothing your headache.

Whenever Muriel would get sick, he’d just plow through the day and hope he can sweat out his fever through chopping wood. But you deserve better than that, so you’re let off of chores until you’re better. Muriel balances his duties with nursing you, which is a little tough ‘cause he’s gotten so used to having an extra set of hands. But it’s definitely worth it, if you’d get better. 

He comes back from checking the rabbit traps to feed you a salty bone broth, and brews his green-magic tea brew (that he and Asra invented together) that has elderflower, willow bark, and ginseng. After lunch, he needs to leave again, so urges Inanna to cuddle you while he’s gone.

Finally, the chores are (largely) done, and he can finally afford his full attention to your pitiful, coughing self. He pulls out his rare ingredients - albatross feather, dried glowshroom - and charges them with magic before making it into a bitter powder he urges you to eat. Effectively a magical antibiotic, just in case of infection.

By night, you’re well enough to walk around and eat a bit more, and he’s feeling reassured. You spot one of his tiny smiles. But he pushes away your kisses until you’re for sure all cured. 

A couple more days of his tried-and-true forest witchery, and there’s no more coughing. Finally the two of you get to cuddle in the furs like you usually do! It’s felt like ages, you say, and Muriel can’t help but agree.

– Portia – 

First step upon hearing your raspy voice? Portia rushes to the kitchen (with Pepi hot on her heels because running time!! Yay!) to cook one of Mazelinka’s fever soups. Portia unfortunately lacks the ingredients to make Mazelinka’s more magical dishes, but there’s enough here for a nutrient-rich, hydrating broth, perfect for a cold.

She sends a pigeon to the castle to call in a sick day, so Portia can take her time in feeling up your forehead, heating water, and hauling out the thick winter quilts to sweat out your fever. You don’t look too bad, but it’s a shame Julian’s on a cruise right now. Otherwise, she’d drag him over right quick to do a check-up.

She mixes up a pot of ginger honey tea and leaves you with Pepi while she visits Mazelinka to request a remedy. Before too long, Portia comes back with a large jug of this thick, grassy-smelling stew with rice and various herbs. She insists on feeding you while you’re laid up in bed, which isn’t necessary but it makes her giggle so you indulge her. It tastes delicious, and you finish a large bowlful while Portia chats brightly and cracks jokes, making sure your spirits are high - the most important when it comes to recovery! 

You’re not sure what was in Mazelinka’s soup (although you’re pretty sure the ‘rice’ was actually scuttlebug larvae) but your fever’s waned a lot by the time you wake up from your nap. Portia’s right there when you open your eyes, knitting and humming to herself. She sees you awake and can tell you’re feeling better, which makes her smile. 

Dinner is the second half of Mazelinka’s soup, and then Portia fills the wooden tub for a nice, hot bath. Even your voice is less raspy now, so she and you chat while you soak. You’re so much healthier now that you don’t have to be in separate beds come nighttime, which truly is a blessing.

The first thing you do when you’re fully recovered is beg Mazelinka for her soup recipe. She relinquishes it to you, on the promise you won’t monetize it for your shop or anything, and you swear you won’t. Portia’s puppy-dog eyes probably wasn’t a necessary tactic, but appreciated none the same. 

– Lucio –

You wake up feverish and Lucio’s first step is to arrange the things he’d like to do on his sick days. Hot mulled wine, a giant bath of citrus oil and lavender, and the best doctors of Vesuvia to wait on him you hand and foot. You have to stop him before he goes too far, which is easier said than done with a sore throat versus an ex-Count on a mission.

You turn down the huge platters of petit-fours, but Lucio insists on the doctors, who come in and do a thorough check-up per Lucio’s strict orders. But it doesn’t take a full physical to ensure that you’ve just got a simple cold, and all you really need is water and rest. 

Lucio calls off all his plans so he can dedicate the entire day to keeping you company. He asks if you have a headache, if your sinuses are clogged, if your muscles are sore. You say yes to anything, he’ll try to call the doctors back and insist they give you some sort of medicinal relief. After lots of hemming and hawing, you get a walnut and cherry-based tincture to reduce inflammation, and also a peppermint lemon tea. 

He looks at your meager medicines and asks if you’re sure you don’t want anything more. He could call his pets up if you want some cuddles? Maybe we can take one of those baths? What about some dessert, just because? Or we can call up the troubadour to play some music - 

Lucio seems strangely contrite when you say that all you need is some rest. He’s very hesitant to leave you alone, so you kept feeling his gaze as you tried to nap. Finally, you asked what was his deal - you appreciate his attention, but something’s obviously wrong.

He’s not someone very in tune with his emotions, so it takes a while before you’re able to mine Lucio’s tremulous inner thoughts; when he was dying of the plague, Lucio hated being alone in his huge room, and ordered company whenever he could. There was no medicine that offered proper relief from his pains, and all he could do was wait and fear the inevitable. 

Seeing you sick, even with just a simple fever, brought back those memories. He’d do anything to make sure you never experienced that. Especially knowing what you’ve already been through.

You gently hold Lucio’s hand and assure him that things like fevers and sickness, they’re part of the living experience and they’re made much better with good company. Actual, good company that offers love and support. Which you have, with Lucio here.

He’s always struck dumbfounded whenever you describe him with noble attributes. He feels like he’s the one recovering from … something, rather than you. 

A few more nights, and you’re as fit as a fiddle. To celebrate, Lucio orders a large spread of your favorite foods to make up for all the bland mush you had to deal with. He’s back to being good ol’ Lucio, but you know that an inner part of him has changed for the better. 

[dokidokivisual]

Gochiusa BLOOM episode 7 impressions

Previously: 6 - 5 - 4 - 3 - 2 - 1

In real world Halloween might have been a month ago, but in the world of Is The Order a Rabbit it’s exactly the season for all things spooky. And maybe things become a little too supernatural for a slice of life show. In the last episode we’ve seen how BLOOM symbolizes the growth of the characters. And as we enter the second half of the season, another meaning is revealed...

But first let’s visit Ama Usa An, where horror-loving Chiya is decorating the traditional Japanese teahouse for Halloween. Since Halloween is decidedly not a traditional Japanese holiday, it looks kinda surreal, but Chiya’s grandmother is more worried about souls of the dead coming back to life, especially that of Chino’s grandfather (see season 2 episode 9 for more of their backstory). Of course the soul of Chino’s grandfather isn’t actually dead, but is inhabiting the body of a rabbit. It’s not clear how exactly this happened and Cocoa might have been involved.

Speaking of Cocoa, we see her practicing with the magic set she bought in the first episode of the season. She tries to make something appear in her hand, but nothing happens. Clearly you can’t just learn to summon matter into existence in Gochiusa world, or can you? Anyway the shot focuses on a candy laying on a table before the opening sequence cuts in. This must be the object Cocoa has tried to summon and it’s also clearly a foreshadowing for something.

Meanwhile, Maya and Megu are trick-or-treating in matching werewolf(?) outfits hoping to score some free candy. Interestingly the tradition of giving out candy on Halloween has descended from a medieval practice of sharing so-called “soul cakes” which represented the souls of the dead.

Meanwhile the staff of Rabbit House are dressed as vampires. The theme of vampires fighting werewolves brings up to mind the Twilight series although I’m sure the idea came up many times throughout history. If you look closer, you’ll notice that Cocoa, Rize and Megu have fake fangs (I think Maya’s is natural), although they’re not consistently drawn between scenes, even though in the manga they’re drawn correctly. Maybe they’ll fix this in BD. The only one whose fang is not shown is Chino, and ironically she is the one who actually bites somebody.

Also the flashback of Chino “roaring” at the mirror reminded me of the scene from Celestial Method where Noel (also voiced by Minase Inori) roars at a dinosaur standee. To be fair it sounds completely different but I just can’t help but compare them.

Also while I was browsing through my copy of volume 6 I found a cute illustration card that seems to be relevant to this episode, but includes Mocha and Cocoa as the wolves and Chino as the vampire (here’s a highres version).

I think I bought this particular volume in Japan on the day it was released. Good times...

Next MaMe go to Fleur de Lapin and are greeted by Sharo dressed as Little Red Riding Hood (bunny version). This costume appeared earlier in an illustration for the rabbit chapter from the previous episode.

This is also a rare scene where other employees of Fleur de Lapin can be seen, as usually Sharo is shown working there alone. Even in the manga, Sharo is the only employee shown in this scene. In the end it turns out that Sharo is a wolf in disguise and craving for some meat. Which is weird because Sharo hasn’t been shown eating or cooking any meat before.

Anyway, next stop is Ama Usa An, which is called the Witch’s Mansion now. Chiya mentions the beginning of the Sabbath, and the manga chapter’s title 今宵は甘兎サバト also mentions the Sabbath. This might be confusing because in Judaism and Christianity the Sabbath is the day of rest and happens weekly (on Saturday or Sunday). However since we’re talking about witches, this actually references the Wiccan concept of sabbat, or one of eight festivals in the Wiccan calendar. In particular, Samhain, one of the four Greater Sabbats pretty much coincides with Halloween and celebrates the beginning of winter.

Chiya does this thing where the protagonist’s hand hurts only to awaken their dark powers, I’m not really sure where this trope comes from but I’ve seen it referenced in anime before and it’s a common chuunibyo stereotype. In this case, Chiya did really just hurt her hand. There’s also some sort of runic circle drawn on her bandages, but if you look closer it says shiratama anmitsu matcha parfait in hiragana.

Maya and Megu agree to help Chiya, and become her “familiars”. Even though familiars are better known as a video game mechanic today (which is what the “level up” scene references), witches were associated with familiar spirits since medieval times. A familiar often took form of a small animal, such as a cat. Unfortunately MaMe don’t even know which animal they are, so clearly they didn’t take their backstory as seriously as Chiya did. Their ears and tails look canine to me, so I can see Megu being a fox spirit, but Maya being a cat is less believable. Also during their confrontation Megu confirms that Maya’s fang is her yaeba (snaggle tooth).

As a revenge for the trick MaMe pulled on her, Chiya gives them a selection of pumpkin tarts, one of which is laced with wasabi (which she calls ”Russian roulette”). This seems like a common thing for her, since she did the same with botamochi in season 2 episode 6, and with green tea in season 2 episode 7 (except she used aojiru instead of wasabi). However this time, it was Chiya’s grandmother who put wasabi in two of the tarts, unbeknownst to Chiya. By the way in the manga it wasn’t shown that Chiya got one of the wasabi tarts.

Chiya goes shopping for some pumpkins, but is helped by Rize, and later Sharo gives her anti-pain medications, reminding her of how Chiya tended for her when she was sick in season 1 episode 12. It’s not mentioned in the anime, but Rize also had a “motivation” for helping Chiya, as she hurt her leg before (see season 2 episode 2). Chiya invites Rize and Sharo to dinner and brings up the wasabi-laced pumpkin tarts. According to Chiya the probability of getting wasabi is 1/3. Initially there were 7 tarts, of which 2 had wasabi. Megu, Maya and Chiya eat one each, with Chiya’s having wasabi in it. That leaves 4 tarts with 1 wasabi, so either Chiya’s calculation is incorrect, or somebody ate one more tart.

Apparently last day was just a warm up to Halloween (All Hallow’s Eve’s Eve?), so next day Megu and Maya come to Chiya again and try to summon something. A larger and slightly different version of the runic circle previously seen on Chiya’s hand starts glowing and we see that the 3 white rabbits correspond to three people holding hands. There’s also Anko corresponding to the black rabbit in the middle. By the way, in the manga the sign on Chiya’s hand was just a hexagram, and the summoning ritual didn’t have any visible symbols.

Anyway, they want to summon a messenger from demon world/hell, and coincidentally Cocoa and Chino come in (dressed as vampires) and try to attack (cuddle) them. Chiya, Maya and Megu form New Chimame-tai which works because Chiya and Chino have the same first syllable. However Chi is written with kanji instead of katakana in this version (because Chiya’s name 千夜  is one of the few given names among Gochiusa characters that’s always written with kanji). This defeats Chino, and Chiya consoling Chino like a big sister defeats Cocoa as well.

Ok let’s move on to part B, which is the really important part of the episode. The streets of the town are filled with people dressed in various costumes. Cocoa’s classmates can be seen among the crowd, and Aoyama and Rin are enjoying a boat ride on River Sanzu.

Our main character have also prepared some new costumes for the occasion. First we see Chino, dressing up as Phantom Thief Lapin, while Rize is going as a police officer. Soon Chiya and Sharo join them, who somehow independently of each other also went with a Lapin costume. At least Sharo had a good excuse. For Chiya, Lapin’s gloves obscure the bandage on her hand, so maybe that’s why she chose this costume. But what about Cocoa?

Well, she kinda got lost and we find her at the location that you will recognize if you read my episode 5 review. Cocoa says it looks a little different than usual, almost like a different world (isekai). Well, there’s a lot of evidence to support this hypothesis. First, in a scene that parallels episode 1, Cocoa finds a lost child and tries to calm her down with a magic trick. However you might notice that the child’s head is literally a pumpkin with a moving mouth.

And her mother is also a pumpkinhead. Cocoa doesn’t encounter any other people during this segment, even though you’d think a spot that overlooks the town like this would be quite popular. Well, she does encounter one more person, a mysterious masked magician with an angora rabbit on her head. She also wears a G-clef pendant indicating some sort of music connection.

Now, since y’all had already watched the episode, it wouldn’t be a spoiler to say that this is the ghost of Chino’s mother, Saki. The rabbit on her head is the ghost of the original Tippy before its body was taken over by Chino’s grandfather. The original Tippy was a female rabbit, by the way, a fact established early on in the series. In Sing for You OVA (for which I wrote a not-very-detailed review by the way) it’s established that Saki was a singer and even had a record released.

Anyway, as a ghost, Saki doesn’t speak (although she still can giggle and such) and doesn’t physically interact with Cocoa (only indirectly, by casting candies at Cocoa). Nevertheless she does teach Cocoa how to do the candy trick correctly.

Meanwhile, the rest of the group tries to call Cocoa’s phone but she doesn’t answer. This is another evidence for isekai theory. Cocoa is just out of range, you see. Rize and Sharo swap their costumes (the most unrealistic part of the episode) and Sharo starts “policing” the Lapins on how the real Lapin would talk. Chiya has a bright idea to shout out for Cocoa and call her big sister. However Cocoa would obviously only react if Chino calls her that, so Rize encourages Chino to say it louder (referencing her training for the choir in Sing for You).

Cocoa and Saki hear Chino, and Saki looks at her daughter from the terrace. Chino also looks up... but doesn’t see anything. She does get a hunch that there’s something up there though, so the group finds Cocoa eventually. Meanwhile Saki feels like her time is up and makes for a quick exit, literally disappearing.

This is where Cocoa returns to the “real world”, as the current Tippy calls out for her. Why was Tippy with Cocoa anyway in the first place? Cocoa looks around and there are in fact lots of people there as expected.

Cocoa thinks that Tippy speaking is an evidence of a ghost, despite her interacting with a real ghost just a few moments before. The 3 Lapins arrive and start arguing who is the real Lapin. Chino says that it’s the one who gets away with everything in the end, implying she will take the whole Cocoa for herself. However Sharo arrests Cocoa for making everyone worry.

On the way back, Chiya recalls the legend which was also mentioned by her grandmother at the beginning of the episode about the spirits of the ancestors coming back for this one day and then returning to heavens. Chino looks up to the sky, while Tippy gives her a solace in the fact that he was once again turned away, implying that he expected to return to heaven with the other spirits.

Tippy also seemed to know what Cocoa was talking about in an earlier scene where Cocoa said she forgot to give thanks to somebody. Just what’s up with Tippy and why is he not allowed to enter Heaven is a big mystery here.

Cocoa also notices Chino being distressed and shows her the magic trick with the candy. It turns out Chino remembers this trick from her childhood, and we get to see a full flashback with Chino’s mother even getting a few speaking lines (delivered by none other but Nana Mizuki). Since the candy was probably a part of the magic set, it’s no coincidence that it has the exact same wrapper in the flashback. The color of the candy matches with Chino’s clothes at the time but you can also think of it as a combination of Saki’s white and Chino’s blue.

By the way, in the manga Cocoa conjures up two candies, and they have a plain wrapping so there wasn’t One Specific Candy like in the anime. Also in the flashback, Chino is carried by her grandfather. His face is not shown, but Takahiro is seen in the background (with Rize’s dad) so by exclusion it had to be him. And in the current scene Chino is the one carrying Tippy like this.

The episode ends with Cocoa asking Chino to tell her more about her mother, while a star is seen rising in the sky, presumably symbolizing Saki’s spirit.

Let’s go back to Cocoa meeting Saki scene one more time. Like I explained, it’s heavily implied that Cocoa isn’t really in the same world as the other characters when she meets Saki’s ghost. Of course Gochiusa had supernatural elements from the start, such as a certain talking rabbit who happens to be Chino’s grandfather. But now we have a ghost of Chino’s mother and Cocoa is the only one who can see her, but Chino can’t? Just what the heck is going on here?

But wait, there is a rational explanation for all of this! Cocoa had a hallucination triggered by all the Halloween celebrations. She imagines helping a lost child just like Chino did before (and told Cocoa about it later) and then imagines the ghost of Saki teaching her magic, because subconsciously she wants to be like Saki. She had seen Saki before on a photograph, but haven’t heard her speak, which is why the ghost can’t talk to her. Hearing Chino call her onee-chan brings Cocoa back to her senses. But how did Cocoa learn the trick if it was just her imagination? Well, consider the fact that she was practicing this exact trick at the beginning of the episode. By the time she shows it to Chino, she has already practiced it a lot of times, but maybe she only realized the crucial part (feint) during the hallucination. Either way, the blue striped candy wasn’t given to Cocoa by Saki, she had it from the start, as part of the magic set! The candies that Saki uses to show the trick to Cocoa all disappear when Cocoa returns to reality.

Saki appears one more time in the bar time scene with Takahiro, who is listening to her record Silver Spoon from Sing for You OVA and then calls her by name. I think this is the only time the name “Saki” is mentioned in the show itself, and it’s not mentioned in the manga at all (unless maybe in some recent chapters which I haven’t read yet). The first time it was revealed was during April Fool’s day Clockwork Rabbit event, as a solution to a “puzzle”. Her name is written in katakana as サキ, however one of possible readings of the word “saki” is 咲き which means “bloom”. Now consider how the last few seconds of the opening animation it cuts from a blooming field of dandelions to Saki:

The dandelions connection to Saki was previously seen in season 2 episode 1 and Sing for You. Saki’s character design doesn’t really say “blooming of dandelions” to me, but consider that a dandelion turns into this:

Now that’s more like it! Although it reminds me of Tippy as well. Anyway, that was a very mysterious episode of Gochiusa BLOOM and let’s see what happens next! Only 5 episodes remain...

[characternerdocs]

🖊 + Lilith

🖊 Me gushing over an OC 🖊 |||@chickypoodoodloos

Ooh Lilith! So Lilith is one of my characters that makes up the lore of my characters’ world. Lilith was the child of traveling nomads that died during an extremely brutal winter. Lilith herself should have perished in the bitter cold, seeing as she was only an infant at the time. however, a living sentient plane known as Khavak saved her. To do so, occult historians believe that this was the first animous plane as Khavak brought Lilith into itself and linked their life forces to one another. By doing this Lilith was no longer “human” but something more. First of all, her whole eye turned this golden hue, and as she grow-up her baby teeth fell out and were replaced with teeth that were much sharp and pointed that made it easier for her to hunt and devour that small prey on which she lived one, her ears were pointed like that of the fey creatures that she lived amongst. And she learned to shapeshift, her most favorite forms were that of a barn owl and a snake.

Despite growing up amongst the fey and the wilderness, Lilith didn’t completely lose her humanity. In fact, she was very intrigued by humans and their lives. She’d often visit villages as she’d wander from forest to forest. Similar to her adoptive fey family, Lilith would play tricks on the village folks at night and often would help or hinder the populous depending on their attitude towards her. But she absolutely loved their celebration and festivals, and often she would return to specific towns for their different feasts. 

While some towns viewed Lilith as a nuisance, others started to think of her as a sort of patron spirit and believed that if she was humored that she would provide plentiful harvests, safety when entering the forests, or general protection from the hazards of nature.

But with more and more tales of this daughter of Khavak started to spread is when the trouble started. Feed up with the sway this feral child seemed to have on villages, two brothers and archangels, Lucifer and Samael, were sent out to find and rain her behavior in.

The brothers first attempted to teach her “right from wrong” and how to behave in the civilized world. But it came abundantly clear that Lilith cared very little about what was considered proper or not, and felt like the archangels themselves knew and cared very little about the ways and lives of anything besides their own kind. So she decided to educate them on the knowledge she believed they were lacking. including things like how friends exchange gifts, in which she demanded a token of friendship from both Lucifer and Samael, both choosing to bestow upon her a feather from their wings. Lucifer was quick to take to Lilith’s teaching, finding them both amusing and enlightening, and in turn, Lucifer asked for a token of friendship back, so Lilith plucked a lower rib from her chest. Samael however was not so easily swayed but humored Lilith’s notions nevertheless.

But after some months without any change in Lilith’s behavior, Samael was ordered to arrange a marriage for Lilith, in hopes that being a wife would force her into a submissive role. And while given to a chauvinistic and unfavorable husband, Lilith quickly made her escape from that dwelling as an owl. When finding out about her departure, Samael forbid Lilith from ever setting foot on her former husband’s land. Which she agreed to, as she saw no reason or want to return. That is until the man took another wife. Knowing the man’s cruelty first hand, she felt it was her duty to try and warn the new woman about his nature. A task that Lilith completed with the aid of her snake form and Lucifer’s new pension for finding loopholes in the rules.

Despite Lilith’s continued disobedience to his orders, Samael found himself becoming more and more obsessed with Lilith as months stretched into years. He could not understand why or how to describe the hold that unruly tree-dweller had on him. Samael began to neglect his duties and dismissed his orders from higher up concerning the feral girl as he became more infatuated with Lilith. He was stricken for the first time with feelings of want and jealousy when seeing Lilith interact with anyone but him. Finally one night, Samael followed Lilith back to Khavak, and overtaken by his growing need to be with Lilith, he slept with her in the long grass near the river. But when morning came, Samael explained his intentions clear, that now that she had given herself to him, that Lilith belonged to him. A claim that Lilith simply laughed off as she stated that she would belong to no one; no matter their knowledge of her, carnal or not. A sentiment that displeased Samael, and he left enraged.

However, he would soon return to Khavak, conceding that Lilith could not be claimed through intercourse. Lilith, thrilled that her friend was beginning to accept her differing viewpoint, went to embrace Samael but found a knife in her abdomen. Since Lilith would not let him have her as his wife, Samael decided to instead take her life, killing her where they had laid the night prior.

But with her dying breath, Lilith cursed Samael, so that he may never wash her blood from his hand.

Still, with Lilith dead, Samael and other members of his faction started to spread ghastly rumors about her, of her twisted and demonic nature. And despite Lucifer trying to come to his late friend’s defense, Samael wrote his older brother’s claims off as proof of Lilith’s power of corruption to turn one of the brightest angels into a heretic. Angered by his brother’s betrayal of his good friend, Lucifer played into the tales of his dark nature. Soon lines were drawn and sides were taken as what is known as the war between evil and good begin, and the world that once existed in shades of grey was divided into black and white.

It wasn’t until many centuries later, due to a wicked project taking place in the walls of an abandoned asylum and a subject numbered 161094, did Lilith finally make her not so great reentrance.

Thanks for the ask (or request?) to hear about Lilith, @chickypoodoodloos. Sorry, the reply was so long. I have never actually written down the lore surrounding Lilith, Lucifer, and Samael before. And honestly, it was fun to finally put it down, even in this somewhat abridged form.  Despite its length, I hope you enjoy it.

[justlookatthosesausages]

:: “Memoirs” :: a post-Frozen 2 Time Travel AU

======= CHAPTER 7 Safe and sound =======

As Elsa opened her eyes - even though, she thought, she didn’t really opened them, because Ahtohallan was projecting the memories of the future into her mind - she was welcome by a melodious and soft music. 

The notes turned into a song as a gentle male voice accompanied them, and Elsa looked around trying to understand where she was standing. 

This was Anna’s and Kristoff’s bedroom. It had been only Anna’s, a long time ago, then they had redesigned it from the moment Kristoff lived in the castle, and Elsa had seen its design change once again in the future memory of Anna giving birth to her daughter. But here, it had a different structure, though half-familiar, and the Snow Queen easily guessed that what she was about to witness was happening before the memory that was submitted to her in the Forest.

She finally laid eyes on the source of the music, and found a moving ice statue representing Kristoff playing the lute, seated on the bed, as Anna was on the sheets next to him, her face adorned with a dreamy smile. She had a hand against the pillow next to her, and the other was absentmindedly rubbing her belly. 

Elsa loudly gasped with emotion when she saw that Anna was pregnant, and visibly in the last months. She immediately covered her mouth, fearing for a second that she ruined the soft lullaby Kristoff was playing. Thankfully, she wasn’t really there, them neither, and they were all just sharing a moment lost in time. 

Lost in time, but real. The blonde felt her eyes sting at the thought, and her stomach leaped a bit. This would become true. This was the future. Kristoff was singing to his wife one of the most tender songs she had ever heard from him, and Anna was looking at him singing like she was in the best place in the entire world. 

Once he was finished, it took all of Elsa’s will to not clap right then in awe or sigh with delight as Kristoff placed his hand above Anna’s on her belly. She had to focus on what they were saying. She couldn’t help but think, despite the beauty of the scene: was she already dead in that moment?  

Kristoff bent to his wife to kiss her in the hair, then he shifted to kiss her belly. He smiled after he did. 

“Oh, I’m very lucky tonight.” He said, his voice a bit crystalline and reverberated in ice statue form. “No kick in the face. I won’t lose a teeth this time.”

Anna giggled, but also eye-rolled. “Come on. Don’t exaggerate. It had just been a tiny kick.”

“Still. She’s as strong as you, and I’m sure that one centimeter to the right would have knocked me down.” 

They both laughed, then kissed, and Elsa shed a tear at Anna’s voice. It was the first time she heard her talking as a grown adult, and a future mother. Last time she saw her around that age was when she was giving birth, and well, it wasn’t the most representative sample... She had mostly heard her scream. Here, she was calm, bathing in love and happiness, and it filled Elsa’s heart. 

“Hey, you’re still persuaded that it’s a girl?” Frowned Anna, lifting her face, her long untied hair sliding along the pillow.

“What, this conversation again?” Groaned Kristoff, but he was amused. “Come on, feisty. I told you. Bulda said it would be a girl. The northern lights are never wrong.”

“The northern lights...” Repeated Anna with a long sigh, exasperated, and Elsa couldn’t help but laugh, especially at the face she made as she put her head back down. 

Kristoff chuckled. “Don’t mock it. It’s been proven.”

Anna smirked. “Alright. Then we need to think of baby names. I only thought about boys ones.” 

“Oh yeah? What were your choices?” Asked Kristoff, picking up his lute and idly plucking the chords.

Elsa stepped forward. This conversation was lovely, and she leaned on the edge of the bed made out of ice, her arms crossed, smiling at their soft interaction. 

“I was thinking about ‘Hans’.”

Kristoff missed a heartbeat and his hand slipped on the chords, and Elsa almost fell to the floor at the sentence. 

Anna cackled loudly with laughter. “I’m just kidding! Oh my goodness, you should have seen your face!!”

“This is not funny.” Mumbled Kristoff. 

She howled with laughter, and suddenly slammed her hand on her belly when her moves became too big. “Ow, ow, ow...”

“See? Stop saying nonsense, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

He helped her change her posture on the bed, using his own pillow to put it under her back. 

“Thank you. Ugh, I shouldn’t have laughed that hard. At least she’ll have the sense of humor.”

Kristoff and Elsa shook their head at the same time, puffing. 

“Do you have ideas for a girl name?” Asked Anna, her voice soft and calm again. 

“I’ve been thinking about Olwen.”

“What? What even is that kind of name?” Snorted the Queen. 

“It means ‘White footprint’ in Welsh. And I got the idea inspired from old mythology. Olwen was a goddess who would make flowers spring up as she walked in snow.” Smiled Kristoff, waving her hands with pretty illustrative gestures. “For a baby who will be born between Winter and Spring, it will be great, don’t you think? Your sister would approve it.”  

Elsa’s entire body stiffened as she heard the sentence. Did that mean... What that meant? Was she gone already?

“Okay, ice nerd.” Puffed Anna. “Well, don’t try to convince me with emotion. That’s not gonna make me change my mind. It’s a no-no.”

Kristoff pouted, and Elsa’s heart split in half. ‘With emotion’ echoed in her mind. So she was dead before this scene happened. She was dead before Anna even finished her pregnancy. 

If present Anna was there by her side, she would convince her that she had to wait for more clues, and was taking things out of context. But she wasn’t there. And Elsa knew that it was too many coincidences for it to not be the truth. 

As Kristoff kept defending his choice of name, Elsa winced. She sighed and forced herself to smile. At least she could enjoy this moment of them. 

“How about Alexandria?” Suggested Anna with a big smile. 

Kristoff groaned. “That’s sounds a bit like a disease.” 

“What?? Come onnnn, be supportive!” 

“I would if that didn’t sound like a disease.”

She nudged him on the shoulder, and he chuckled, continuing his soft plucking of the chords. The scene was so sweet that it actually made Elsa grin, and she forgot her sadness.

“Okay, I’m gonna think about another one.” Accepted Anna.

She then turned to him with a warning finger. “But we’re never ever going to pick your name.”

=======

“Hi, Olwen.” Smiled Anna with a soft voice. 

Elsa blinked when the memory suddenly changed. The room was the same, still filled with moving ice statues, but there were more people, and the furniture had changed. It was back to the design Elsa had seen in the memory when Anna had given birth. 

And then it hit her. This was what happened right afterwards. 

With an emotional gasp, Elsa ran to the tiny baby Anna was holding in the crook of her arms with a smile, and that Kristoff and her couldn’t detach their eyes from. Anna was gently rubbing her cheek with her thumb, her eyes filled with maternal love, and the elder felt her heart leap at the beautiful scene.  

The baby was adorable, and the blonde started crying along the new parents as they all stared at it. 

“Olwen of Arendelle. You’ve got all the world to discover.” Whispered Kristoff, like he feared that talking too loud would shatter the fragile skin of his daughter. 

Elsa rubbed her tears so she would stop seeing blur, and smiled to the blond as he caressed the head of the sleeping baby. It looked infinitely cute, and Elsa wished she could say the same of Anna, but she had messy hair, and some locks were stuck to her face because of her sweat. 

With a chuckle, Elsa looked at her, and lifted her hand as she wanted to put some of her hair behind her ear and tell her how amazing she had been in her labor. 

However, this only was a memory, even if it was from the future, and she only contented herself with a supportive smile as she saw Anna hold Olwen closer to her chest. 

The Fifth Spirit looked around, looking one last time with one last hope that she was indeed present in the room, but hadn’t noticed. Nevertheless, she definitely wasn’t. With a pinch to the heart, she looked at Kristoff and Anna kissing each other, then the redhead giggled with happiness. Seeing them both admire their daughter, who brought such touching smiles on their faces, and would become the future of Arendelle, was enough to make her lips stretch in a content smile, and she enjoyed the moment as it was.

=======

A new flash appeared as the memory changed. Now, a lot of years had passed, easy to notice for the blonde in a simple stare: the furniture was different, and maybe even the wallpaper, but she couldn’t tell which color it was, for everything was cyan and white in ice statues. 

Elsa squinted as she walked to the bed, and tried to recognized the ones present there. She gasped in joy when she saw how adorable Olwen had grown up to be. She now was around 10 years old, and reminded her of Anna was she was her age. She wanted to step further to see how cute she was, but the little girl shifted in her sheets as Anna, now an older adult, kissed her on the forehead. 

They both giggled, and the Snow Queen masked a giggle behind her hand as well. She couldn’t help but hide her sounds. She felt like the moment was intimate, private even, and was so touched by the love filling the room that she didn’t want to ruin it, even if they couldn’t hear her. It was a shame that the ice memories couldn’t show much colors, because she would have loved to know if her niece’s hair was blonde, red, or maybe a mix of both. Elsa chose to use her imagination, like she usually did, and it wasn’t hard because of much she looked like her mother.

“Sleep well, love.” Smiled Anna, and her bun swayed in her move as she stood up from the bed.  

“Mama, can you tell me a story about Auntie?”

Anna stopped right in her tracks just before reaching the door. Elsa stopped breathing.

The blonde’s hand, who had lowered from her mouth to her chest in emotion at Anna’s love as she put her daughter to bed, clenched there. 

‘Here we go.’ Thought Elsa. ‘She’ll want to know what happened.’

Anna didn’t look back, and from where the elder stood, she couldn’t know what her expression was. Her heart squeezed even harder. The redhead probably was feeling sad about it. She had stopped walking, and wasn’t looking back as she answered her daughter. 

“Not tonight, sweetheart. Sorry.”

“Mamaaaa!” Insisted Olwen, using adorable bounces in the sheets to persuade her. 

Elsa would have found it adorable if she wasn’t devastated. 

“Please tell me the story about that time she saved Ahtohallan!” Begged the little girl. 

Anna didn’t reply right away, and Elsa accepted with sadness that she didn’t want to talk about how she had lost her... Wait, when she saved Ahtohallan? The elder frowned in confusion. 

“Why wouldn’t she tell you herself?” Finally turned around Anna, and to Elsa’s greatest surprise, she was wearing a big smile and looking right at her. 

The elder gasped with wide eyes, panicking. Was she able to see her? Did she know she was here? How long did she know? 

She inspected the expression on the ice statue of her grown adult sister, and then realized that she wasn’t looking at her, but behind her. 

Slowly, Elsa turned around, and was seized by the biggest emotion when she saw who had just came in by the window.

A gust of wind finished twirling as an older adult Elsa stepped in the room, and as she turned around to close the window behind her, present Elsa got struck by the vision of her own front and back. With a dropped jaw, she saw how in the move, her shoulder pieces sparkled, even in the dimmed light of the candles in Olwen’s bedroom. Her white outfit was the same after all these years, but was more sophisticated, more ergonomic, and, Elsa couldn’t help but admit, ten times more gorgeous than the one she was currently wearing. She - her older self, as insane as the situation was - had added light armor pieces made of dense ice that brightened with the purest white, and they covered her shoulders, her chest, but also her arms and her thighs. 

Elsa forgot to breath and gulp for the eternal seconds when her older self stepped in the room and to the bed. As she did, she stared at her with wide eyes. Her future self had shorter hair, way shorter hair than present time, but also undeniably more muscles, from bigger biceps to broader shoulders, and Elsa wondered if it was due to intense riding or to simply living in the woods for several tens of years. Her brain was unable to come with an answer, for how stunned she was by that mere entrance. As her older self came to sit on the bed, the skin-like ice fabric below her chest armor piece shone. It attracted Elsa’s gaze, who detached her eyes from the impressively confident expression her future self had, to make them land on a set of sharp abs. 

Present Elsa let out a gasp that was a mix of a scoff and a sigh as she looked over and over at herself. She was alive. And not only alive; actually looking really great.

“AUNTIEEE!!” Exclaimed the little girl, jumping in joy and completely going off the sheets to join her and crush her in a hug. 

Elsa gasped in emotion, tears now rolling down her cheeks. She couldn’t tell if it was due to happiness, relief, or because her older self now was hugging Olwen tight.

“Hi sweetie.” She chuckled. 

It was odd to hear one’s own voice, and even weirder to hear it from one’s future self. Elsa felt taken aback by the situation, but the memory went on, and she barely caught on the sensation. 

“Seriously, Elsa?” Grumbled Anna. 

Present Elsa thought she was going to scold her from suddenly appearing at the window, reproach her from not using the door, or tell her to have warned about her visit. But it was none of those. 

“It took me ages to put her to bed. I’m gonna kill you.” Sighed Anna. 

Older Elsa chuckled, and Olwen giggled with a guilty tone. “I doubt that you will kill me”, smiled the blonde. “Also, we can make a deal.” She added to her niece, looking down. “I tell you the story of that time I saved Ahtohallan, and then off to bed, alright?” 

“I promise!” Jolted the girl, beaming in joy and not disappointed at all. 

“Alright. Now go back in your sheets.” Asked Elsa as she ruffled her hair. 

Anna had stepped to her, and while the child was lying back down, the blonde added: “The meeting has ended. I took care of the maps. Kristoff is walking the dignitaries to their coaches. You don’t need to go back.”

“Okay, thanks.” Smiled Anna with a relieved but also tired sigh. She wasn’t a fan of interrupting her evening meetings, going upstairs, putting her daughter to bed, to then switch her mood back and go to regal tone again.

“I think contracts are on the right way with eastern diplomats.” Analyzed Elsa. “With the new politics, we made an equal deal.”

Present Elsa was speechless at the scene. The blonde’s lips stretched slightly at how her older self sounded. By those simple sentences, she was showing a lot of assurance, relaxation, and she was touched to see that she got Anna’s back in Queen duties despite clearly only passing by. However, she was surprised to see that her voice hadn’t changed at all in all those years. She was way more confident, but still had a light voice. 

“Yeah, I think so too.” Nodded Anna with a smile and some professional wisdom.

“Hey, enough boring adult talk!” Grumbled Olwen from the sheets she had buried herself in to the cheeks. 

The sisters giggled, and even present Elsa shook her head. Yep, she was Anna’s spitting image. Even if, proof being there, older Anna would become a very serious and dedicated Queen. 

Older Elsa tapped her chin. “Okay, the story of that time I saved Ahtohallan... Hummm...”

Anna eye-rolled. “She heard it a hundred times already, no need to put that much suspense.”

The Snow Queen laughed, and gave an amused look to her sister as she sat on the bed too. “Did you tell the story more times than me, or is it the reverse?”

“I think I did.” Snorted Anna. 

“I prefer when it’s Auntie who tells it.” Pouted Olwen. 

Anna dropped her jaw as Elsa cackled with laughter. 

“Ouch?” Gasped the redhead. 

“You put too much details when you tell it. I want to go to the action part.” Explained the child, and Elsa laughed again.

“There’s no need to rush to the fight part!” Frowned Anna, defending her own version of the story. 

“But you always spend soooo much time praising Auntie, it gets so long!” 

Elsa looked away to openly laugh without embarrassing her sister, and present Elsa smiled with delight at the scene. Anna was blushing deeply - even if she couldn’t really tell in ice statue form, she just knew it -, her older self was laughing out loud without hiding behind her hand, and her niece was adorably pouting after proving that truth comes out of the mouth of children. 

“Okay, okay, no useless intro, then.” Coughed Elsa, retrieving her breath. 

She patted Anna’s shoulder. “The positive part in this, is that she’ll go to sleep earlier.”

The redhead pouted a bit, still not recovering from being criticized on the way she told stories. 

“Once upon a time, raiders plundered Ahtohallan. I fought them back. The end.”

“AUNTIEEEE!!”

“I’m just kidding.” Giggled Elsa, and Anna joined the laugh. 

“Okay, once upon a time, and that was when you were very little--”

“I wasn’t born yet, actually.” 

“Yes, you weren’t born yet.” Smiled Elsa. “She knows the story better than me.” She added to Anna on side note, and the Queen nodded. It was the third time in the month that she asked for that story. 

“Ahtohallan got attacked by very evil and very numerous raiders.” Continued Elsa with a lower mysterious voice, pocking her niece’s belly above the sheets at each ‘very’, and the latter giggled. 

“They had carefully planned their coup. I was there in Arendelle, along your mother, because she was about to give birth.”

“Ew.”

“To you.” Specified Anna.

“Still ew.”

The sisters chuckled, and Elsa kept going. “They had strategically chosen that period because they knew that the Queen was in no condition to send an army, and I’d be too far to come prevent them from raiding the glacier.”

Olwen was listening carefully, her eyes opened wide, even if she knew the story into every detail. 

“Little did they know that Ahtohallan could warn me.” Said Elsa, now switching to a soft and deep tone, almost hypnotic to the young girl’s ears. 

She then moved her fingers, and some tiny figures made of ice and snow appeared in the air just above her niece’s eyes, and showed what happened. “I waited for them to enter the glacier to create an ambush...” 

“Hey, no wonder you’re her favorite to tell the story!” Suddenly exclaimed Anna with a bit of anger. “You cheater! You’re making images as well!”

Elsa and Olwen laughed as the snow characters continued to move. 

“Shhhh, we’re getting to her favorite part.” Teased Elsa, and the Queen grumbled as she looked away and muttered a ‘It’s unfair.’

Elsa put as much suspense she could, and suddenly burst a mini explosion of snow, making Olwen gasp, as she showed the raiders falling into a pit in the reproduction of the glacier. The little girl giggled as some of them comically tried to hang to the sides with their picks, but then fell backwards. 

“Some were clever enough to have anticipated it, and had escaped the trap. So I started fighting them...”

The mini ice figure representing Elsa started to craft herself an ice staff, and fought the angry men in Northuldra style. 

“Awesome!” Beamed Olwen.

“This is a bit too graphic for a girl of her age.” Mumbled Anna, and she waved her hand through a snow figure particularly violent that depicted Elsa knocking down a guy with her staff. 

“You can’t erase them.” Smirked Elsa.

It dispersed but reformed after Anna took her hand away. No way her elder was going to let down her golden ticket to the girl’s heart. Anna shook her head with a smile, and let her continue the illustrations. She however gave her sister a look that meant ‘less violence in the figures, please’, which Elsa understood with a nod, and the snow figures became a bit more vague. 

“Olaf had come along to help me.” Smiled Elsa, adding some humor in her illustrations to mask the brutality of the action. “He wasn’t really good at fighting, but scared some of the raiders, and got very useful.” 

Anna and her daughter observed the funny moves of the figures, seeing a bunch of grown men running away in fear as Olaf led an army of snowgies to chase them. They all laughed when one of them managed to go out of the glacier, and screamed of panic when he noticed that a snowgie had made its way into his pants. 

“Olaf named himself ‘Guardian of Ahtohallan’ afterwards.” Smiled Anna. “Not sure if it stuck.”

“Ahtohallan doesn’t dare to tell him that it’s already technically me”, laughed Elsa. “But it’s fine. He can keep the title.” 

“Olaf is so funny.” Giggled Olwen. 

The sisters nodded, and Elsa flicked her wrist, continuing the story. Present Elsa was just as attentive as the little girl now, for she was as curious to know what happened next. 

“The fight continued for long hours. The raiders were ready for a possible danger so they were numerous, though they didn’t expect to face me.” Smirked older Elsa.

“And that is why she couldn’t attend the day I was giving birth to you.” Smiled Anna. “And several days afterwards, because Ahtohallan needed to be rebuilt and reshaped, and justice to be done about those mean raiders with Elsa as a witness.”

Olwen nodded slowly, her jaw still dropped. Present Elsa smiled tenderly at how, once again, she reminded her so much of Anna when she was a child, and listened to stories told by her own mother. 

“She was busing up North, but it was so epic and I’m so proud of her, that I never got upset that she wasn’t there.” Smiled Anna, putting a hand on Elsa’s shoulder, who smiled. “Also, she came three days afterwards with so many gifts that we couldn’t even step in your bedroom for how much they filled it.”

Elsa chuckled. “Guilty.” 

Olwen laughed at Elsa’s love for her, that they all knew very well, then her laugh extended to a long yawn. 

“Alright, that signal means that it’s time for bed!” Jolted Anna. 

“N’ther story, b’lease?” Muttered her daughter. 

“Oh no, young princess, it’s getting late now. Come on, close your eyes.” 

Elsa stood up as Anna put the sheets back on her, and the girl soon went off to sleep. Present Elsa, who rubbed an emotional tear off her cheek once again, noticed that the girl didn’t snore, and thought that she inherited from her father’s side on it. 

She felt filled with love, due to the scene, the situation, how Anna and herself had grown up to be, and the fact she now knew why she hadn’t been at Anna’s side that day, and now understood why Ahtohallan had planned to show her this bed time story moment.

Anna kissed Olwen’s forehead again, and the two sisters silently left the room. 

“We should catch up with Kristoff to join our feedbacks about the meeting.” Whispered Anna to her elder as they passed the threshold. 

“Sure. Just give me a minute. I’ll meet you guys downstairs.” Whispered back Elsa.

“Okay.” 

Anna left and went in the corridor, her ice statue disappearing as she did, because she stepped out of the memory. 

Present Elsa suddenly got struck by the fact that she had been wrong; this future memory wasn’t Anna’s. Or Olwen’s. It was hers. 

Her older self stood still, and then she smiled and turned around. Her gaze roamed over the whole room, like she was searching for something hidden in the walls. 

“I know you’re here.”

Present Elsa gasped in surprise, stepping back as a reflex. Her older self smiled softly, like she knew she had just reacted that way. 

“I’ll always remember seeing this memory of the future.”

There was a silence, and both Elsas looked at each other with respect and calm smiles. 

“Take care of yourself. Well, of ourself.” Said older Elsa. “The future is sunny.” 

Present Elsa took a shaking inhale, her throat tightened with emotion. 

Her older version winked, and turned around to pass the door. 

The whole room dissolved into snowflakes, ending the memory in a wind of snow. 

Elsa watched it elevate, sparkly and beautiful, and smiled deeply. She closed her eyes, the remaining drops on her eyelashes rolling on her cheeks, and when she opened her eyes again, she came back to present time. 

=======

Anna hadn’t detached her eyes from her sister’s face, and jumped of surprise when she started to blink. 

“Elsa?” 

“I’m here.” Assured the blonde, smiling to the face above hers. 

Anna sighed with relief, even if she wasn’t really scared that her elder would never wake up. Tears of joy filled Elsa’s eyes, and she suddenly sat up to hug her sister deeply. 

“Oh- okay.” Blabbered Anna, tackled by the hug. She was confused, but gave it back with closed eyes. 

When they finished hugging, they stared at each other, seated on the ice floor of Ahtohallan, and Elsa found it odd to see Anna in her twenties in front of her. 

“What?” Worried the redhead, seeing the way she stared. 

“Nothing.” Smiled Elsa. 

She turned her head to the dome, nodding calmly and wisely. “Thank you.”

The magic source brightened in a ‘You’re welcome’ gesture, and when the blonde turned to Anna again, the younger had a questioning face. 

“So? What happened?? What was the event of the future? Why won’t you be there at my delivery? Why are you happy crying??”

Elsa sniffed and laughed. 

“There’s a lot I want to tell you.” She grinned.