#give him a quiet house far away from cities where there are green pastures and sheep and friendly neighbors

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@ghosts-and-blue-sweaters

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[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

16th November >> Mass Readings (Except USA)

  Monday, Thirty Third Week in Ordinary Time 

    or 

Saint Margaret of Scotland 

    or 

Saint Gertrude, Virgin.

Monday, Thirty Third Week in Ordinary Time

  (Liturgical Colour: Green)

       First Reading

Apocalypse 1:1-4,2:1-5

Think what you were before you fell, and repent

This is the revelation given by God to Jesus Christ so that he could tell his servants about the things which are now to take place very soon; he sent his angel to make it known to his servant John, and John has written down everything he saw and swears it is the word of God guaranteed by Jesus Christ. Happy the man who reads this prophecy, and happy those who listen to him, if they treasure all that it says, because the Time is close.

From John, to the seven churches of Asia: grace and peace to you from him who is, who was, and who is to come, from the seven spirits in his presence before his throne.

I heard the Lord saying to me: ‘Write to the angel of the church in Ephesus and say, “Here is the message of the one who holds the seven stars in his right hand and who lives surrounded by the seven golden lamp-stands: I know all about you: how hard you work and how much you put up with. I know you cannot stand wicked men, and how you tested the impostors who called themselves apostles and proved they were liars. Know, too, that you have patience, and have suffered for my name without growing tired. Nevertheless, I have this complaint to make; you have less love now than you used to. Think where you were before you fell; repent, and do as you used to at first.”’

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

   Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 1:1-4,6

 R/ Those who prove victorious I will feed from the tree of life.

Happy indeed is the man

 who follows not the counsel of the wicked;

nor lingers in the way of sinners

 nor sits in the company of scorners,

but whose delight is the law of the Lord

 and who ponders his law day and night.

R/ Those who prove victorious I will feed from the tree of life.

He is like a tree that is planted

 beside the flowing waters,

that yields its fruit in due season

 and whose leaves shall never fade;

 and all that he does shall prosper.

R/ Those who prove victorious I will feed from the tree of life.

Not so are the wicked, not so!

For they like winnowed chaff

 shall be driven away by the wind:

for the Lord guards the way of the just

 but the way of the wicked leads to doom.

R/ Those who prove victorious I will feed from the tree of life.

    Gospel Acclamation

John 8:12

Alleluia, alleluia!

I am the light of the world, says the Lord;

anyone who follows me will have the light of life.

Alleluia!

    Gospel

Luke 18:35-43

'Son of David, have pity on me'

As Jesus drew near to Jericho there was a blind man sitting at the side of the road begging. When he heard the crowd going past he asked what it was all about, and they told him that Jesus the Nazarene was passing by. So he called out, ‘Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me.’ The people in front scolded him and told him to keep quiet, but he shouted all the louder, ‘Son of David, have pity on me.’ Jesus stopped and ordered them to bring the man to him, and when he came up, asked him, ‘What do you want me to do for you?’ ‘Sir,’ he replied ‘let me see again.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Receive your sight. Your faith has saved you.’ And instantly his sight returned and he followed him praising God, and all the people who saw it gave praise to God for what had happened.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

 ————————————

      Saint Margaret of Scotland 

  (Liturgical Colour: White)

     (Readings for the memorial)

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Monday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

       First Reading

Proverbs 31:10-13,19-20,30-31

A perfect wife - who can find her?

A perfect wife – who can find her?

 She is far beyond the price of pearls.

Her husband’s heart has confidence in her,

 from her he will derive no little profit.

Advantage and not hurt she brings him

 all the days of her life.

She is always busy with wool and with flax,

 she does her work with eager hands.

She sets her hands to the distaff,

 her fingers grasp the spindle.

She holds out her hand to the poor,

 she opens her arms to the needy.

Charm is deceitful, and beauty empty;

 the woman who is wise is the one to praise.

Give her a share in what her hands have worked for,

 and let her works tell her praises at the city gates.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

   Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 127(128):1-5

 R/ O blessed are those who fear the Lord.

O blessed are those who fear the Lord

 and walk in his ways!

By the labour of your hands you shall eat.

 You will be happy and prosper.

R/ O blessed are those who fear the Lord.

Your wife will be like a fruitful vine

 in the heart of your house;

your children like shoots of the olive,

 around your table.

R/ O blessed are those who fear the Lord.

Indeed thus shall be blessed

 the man who fears the Lord.

May the Lord bless you from Zion

 all the days of your life!

R/ O blessed are those who fear the Lord.

    Gospel Acclamation

John 13:34

Alleluia, alleluia!

I give you a new commandment:

love one another just as I have loved you, 

says the Lord.

Alleluia!

    Gospel

Matthew 25:31-46

I was naked and you clothed me; sick, and you visited me

Jesus said to his disciples: ‘When the Son of Man comes in his glory, escorted by all the angels, then he will take his seat on his throne of glory. All the nations will be assembled before him and he will separate men one from another as the shepherd separates sheep from goats. He will place the sheep on his right hand and the goats on his left.

‘Then the King will say to those on his right hand, “Come, you whom my Father has blessed, take for your heritage the kingdom prepared for you since the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food; I was thirsty and you gave me drink; I was a stranger and you made me welcome; naked and you clothed me, sick and you visited me, in prison and you came to see me.” Then the virtuous will say to him in reply, “Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you; or thirsty and give you drink? When did we see you a stranger and make you welcome; naked and clothe you; sick or in prison and go to see you?” And the King will answer, “I tell you solemnly, in so far as you did this to one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did it to me.”

‘Next he will say to those on his left hand, “Go away from me, with your curse upon you, to the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you never gave me food; I was thirsty and you never gave me anything to drink; I was a stranger and you never made me welcome, naked and you never clothed me, sick and in prison and you never visited me.” Then it will be their turn to ask, “Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty, a stranger or naked, sick or in prison, and did not come to your help?” Then he will answer, “I tell you solemnly, in so far as you neglected to do this to one of the least of these, you neglected to do it to me.”

‘And they will go away to eternal punishment, and the virtuous to eternal life.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

——————————————

     Saint Gertrude, Virgin 

   (Liturgical Colour: White)

     (Readings for the memorial)

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Monday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

    First Reading

Ephesians 3:14-19

May Christ live in your hearts through faith

I pray, kneeling before the Father, from whom every family, whether spiritual or natural, takes its name:

Out of his infinite glory, may he give you the power through his Spirit for your hidden self to grow strong, so that Christ may live in your hearts through faith, and then, planted in love and built on love, you will with all the saints have strength to grasp the breadth and the length, the height and the depth; until, knowing the love of Christ, which is beyond all knowledge, you are filled with the utter fullness of God.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

   Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 22(23):1-3a,4-6

 R/ The Lord is my shepherd: there is nothing I shall want.

The Lord is my shepherd;

 there is nothing I shall want.

Fresh and green are the pastures

 where he gives me repose.

Near restful waters he leads me,

 to revive my drooping spirit.

R/ The Lord is my shepherd: there is nothing I shall want.

He guides me along the right path;

 he is true to his name.

If I should walk in the valley of darkness

 no evil would I fear.

You are there with your crook and your staff;

 with these you give me comfort.

R/ The Lord is my shepherd: there is nothing I shall want.

You have prepared a banquet for me

 in the sight of my foes.

My head you have anointed with oil;

 my cup is overflowing.

R/ The Lord is my shepherd: there is nothing I shall want.

Surely goodness and kindness shall follow me

 all the days of my life.

In the Lord’s own house shall I dwell

 for ever and ever.

R/ The Lord is my shepherd: there is nothing I shall want.

    Gospel Acclamation

John 15:9,5

Alleluia, alleluia!

Remain in my love, says the Lord;

whoever remains in me, with me in him,

bears fruit in plenty.

Alleluia!

    Gospel

John 15:1-8

I am the vine, you are the branches

Jesus said to his disciples:

‘I am the true vine,

and my Father is the vinedresser.

Every branch in me that bears no fruit

he cuts away,

and every branch that does bear fruit

he prunes to make it bear even more.

You are pruned already,

by means of the word that I have spoken to you.

Make your home in me, as I make mine in you.

As a branch cannot bear fruit all by itself,

but must remain part of the vine,

neither can you unless you remain in me.

I am the vine,

you are the branches.

Whoever remains in me, with me in him,

bears fruit in plenty;

for cut off from me you can do nothing.

Anyone who does not remain in me

is like a branch that has been thrown away – he withers;

these branches are collected and thrown on the fire,

and they are burnt.

If you remain in me

and my words remain in you,

you may ask what you will

and you shall get it.

It is to the glory of my Father that you should bear much fruit,

and then you will be my disciples.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

[monstersandmaw]

Male tiefling x male reader (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Here, for your delight and delectation, is Killygren the tiefling, another character from Starfall Springs! See this dashing rogue’s character art and bio info here in case you missed it.

His story has been up on Patreon for a little while, and now it’s time to put it up on here. There’s another Starfall Springs story that’s been up on there too, but you’ll have to wait for that one, featuring an orc.

Halfway through one of the hottest summers on record, you bought a bus ticket and rode it to the end of the line.  

Unconventional, unpredictable, and possibly unwise though the decision may have been, you simply snapped and needed a break.  

The city was stifling, the traffic overwhelming, and you needed green fields, perhaps some cool, breezy woodland, or the soft caress of an ocean breeze. Starfall Springs, you knew from an advertisement you’d seen on the Underground, had all three. And a huge number of non-human residents as well, which, you had to admit, made you curious.  

Your travelling companion on the bus was a very elderly harpy lady who saw that you were travelling alone and proceeded to talk your ear off about the local area as you drew near to the town. In fact you didn’t mind because she was actually quite interesting and very sweet.  

“That’s Jaime’s farm,” she said, nodding out of the dusty window at an old farmhouse in the distance, surrounded by open pasture. There was a round-pen for training horses, and a number of horses were standing in the shade of some huge beech trees beside a field of sheep and goats and another with a small herd of russet red cows. “He’s a sweetheart,” she said, but you had begun to tune the rest of it out by then. The lilting movements of the bus, and the warmth in the air, made you feel slightly sleepy, and it was hard to focus on her voice.  

Eventually, you helped her off the bus and inhaled deeply. Already the air was different here; fresher, sharper despite the haze of pollen in the air. She thanked you for being “Such a polite young man,” and made her way off along the banks of the fast-flowing river which carved through the centre of the old collection of buildings.

Alone once again, you decided to head off towards the wide, paved market square in front of you. Stall holders yelled and called jovially, selling everything from fresh fish and meat to summer produce, cakes, handmade goods, knives, and even little witchy charms. You caught sight of a palomino centaur selling cider and apple juice, apple jelly, apple compote, and even dried apple crisps, and beside her was an orc wearing an apron which bore the logo of a local dairy. His stall had the most amazing array of different cheeses, and you paused long enough to be offered a free sample.  

“Visitor?” he asked jovially.  

You nodded. “Yeah, just thought I’d make an escape from the city for the day. Maybe even for the weekend…”

“Well, if you need a place to stay, Killy’s inn - the Inglenook over there - is great,” he said, pointing towards an old timber-framed building on the far side of the market square. 

“Thanks,” you grinned.  

The orc smiled back at you, and you marvelled at how open and friendly everyone seemed here, unlike the city where the majority of inhabitants were human, and they seemed singularly morose and unfriendly.  

You wandered through the market for a while, your rucksack bashing uncomfortably against your back, until you came to the far side of the open plaza. Down the length of the main road out of the small town of Starfall Springs, you glimpsed the rolling countryside beyond. Gods, but it was idyllic.

The hills in the furthest distance were raked with lines of grapevines, the terracotta roofs of the vineyard buildings glowing in the heat of the summer sunshine, and a few miles away there looked to be a vast fruit orchard. Heat haze marred any real details, so you turned away and made your way back into the town, winding your way down cool, narrow, ancient streets where any number of little shops were tucked away, from antique stores to craft shops, some with pottery and ceramics made locally, to small greengrocers.  

You emerged at the other end of town near the duck pond and you paused a moment in the cool shade of the poplar trees and gazed into the murky depths. A bubbling near the far edge drew your attention, and you stared, astonished, as a horse’s head surfaced from the murky water. The horse heaved itself out of the water at the opposite edge of the pond, duckweed and little water flowers clinging to its greenish-black coat and studding its flowing black mane. It shook itself and you continued to stare openly as it trotted off towards the temple which stood not far away from this end of town, in the middle of an open meadow.  

“What the…?” you breathed, realising it must be some kind of water spirit, probably a kelpie. That just wasn’t the kind of thing you saw everyday in the city though; there were very few places left which were pure and unpolluted enough for creatures like that to survive. As if to drive home the point, a tiny, glowing fairy zipped past your face, laughing and trailing a wake of sparkling dust behind them that made you sneeze and take a step back. Wherever the dust hit, the plants turned a violent pink for a few seconds before fading and returning to their usual hues.  

As enchanting as the whole place was, eventually your stomach started to rumble, and you looked about for somewhere to eat. Perhaps you might even get a cheeky lunchtime pint while you were at it. It was a weekend after all.  

Back in the central marketplace, you saw the old, traditional pub sign of the Inglenook swinging slightly as a breeze sighed around the square. The orc’s recommendation from earlier floated back into your mind, and you decided that you’d pop in and see what it looked like at least. You didn’t have to commit yourself to staying there if you didn’t want to.  

The inside was tastefully decorated, with both traditional and modern features, though the bar at the far end was a very old fashioned, high pub bar, with a huge number of beers and ales on tap, and a vast array of spirits displayed on the wall behind.  

Tables dotted the bar area, and the place was packed. You sighed, thinking it’d take ages for you to be served, and were on the verge of turning round and finding a quiet cafe somewhere else when the shattering of a glass made you halt.

You glanced around, drawn by the noise, and saw a beautiful tiefling standing beside the bar, as if he’d been about to come around the end of it and go to a table with a drink. At his dark blue, cloven hooves lay the scattered remnants of a glass tankard, foam and beer spreading in a wide pool around him. And, improbably, his eyes were locked on you.  

Well, one eye was locked on you. The other was covered by an elegant sash of cloth. His long hair was a very dark blue-black, tied back in a low ponytail, and his skin - flawless save for a pale scar that bisected his mouth from upper lip to chin - was a dusty, cornflower blue. There was no white sclera to the visible eye, and the iris was an intense, fiery gold, with a slit, catlike pupil, while his left eye was covered by a sash of Tyrian purple silk with gold thread here and there, as if to accentuate the colour of his right eye.

After a second or two of staring dumbly at you as if you were some long-lost friend, the tall, slender tiefling shook his horned head, and seemed to come to his senses. A faun appeared from behind the bar with a cloth and a dustpan and brush and told him to step back while they swept up the mess.  

You turned to go, not wanting to linger, despite feeling there was something going on that you’d missed. A few patrons were looking from the tiefling to you and back again, but most had either ignored the incident or returned to their lunchtime chatter.  

You’d barely made it to the door before you felt a soft tap on your bicep and you glanced around to see that the tiefling had come over to you. This close up, you took in the beautiful horns that curled first backwards over his thin, tapering ears and then up towards his forehead again. The left horn ended in a gold tip and you saw tiny gold hoops flashing at his earlobes too. He was a bit taller than you, and you swallowed nervously. He was stunningly handsome, and apart from the fact that you’d never been with a non-human before, he was exactly your type.  

He smiled, showing sharp, white canines and a warm smile with little dimples in his chiselled cheeks. “Hi,” he said in a warm baritone. “I’m sorry about all that just now,” he went on, waving a hand and you caught the sparkle of silver on his fingers too. “Listen, to make up for being such an ass, how about I let you have some lunch and a drink on the house?” He had an airy, lyrical, lilting accent that reminded you, for absolutely no reason at all, of summer evenings and mayflies dancing over still water.  

“Really, you don’t have to do that,” you said, perplexed. “I mean…”

He smiled again and stretched out his hand in a more formal greeting. His were those beautiful kind of hands with everything in the right proportion, the dusky blue skin flecked with intriguing scars here and there, and the sight of it suddenly, strangely, made you ache to feel his touch. Things had become a bit lonely in the city, and you raised your own hand and shook his.  

The skin of his palm was smooth and callused, but warm, and he held you firmly for a moment and then grinned, “My name’s Killy. Well, Killygren, no one except my mother calls me that, and I’d thank you not to use it…” he chuckled. “It’s hot out there today - let’s get you a drink at the very least…”

“I don’t understand,” you murmured.  

He laughed again, a free, musical sound, and winked. “I was so struck by the sight of you, I dropped that one and made a fool of myself. We don’t get a lot of humans passing through Starfall Springs you know, and I know all of the regulars.” He jutted his sharp chin at a distant corner where an orc and a young woman were deep in conversation, their hands linked. “She was the last one to arrive. Inherited a run-down old farm not too far from town.”

“The way you speak makes it seem like the humans who do come tend to stay…”

He winked again and turned back towards the bar. He had a tail, you noted, and it hung elegantly behind him like a panther’s as he walked, hips swaying slightly, hooves clonking lightly on the wooden floorboards of the old pub. It was only then that you remembered the name that the orc had said, and realised that this must be his pub.  

Emboldened, you followed him to the bar and set your rucksack down at the foot of one of the worn old bar-stools, and clambered up onto it.  

“Will you let me guess your favourite?” he grinned from behind the bar.  

You frowned slightly, but then allowed a slow smile to creep across your lips. “Alright.”

The faun, who had finished clearing up the shattered glass, looked up and giggled. He had a nest of golden curls and the brightest blue eyes you’d ever seen, his cheekbones smattered with a myriad freckles. “Don’t encourage him,” he said, shaking his head and making his wavy hair toss this way and that. “He’s incorrigible, and he rarely gets it wrong… Must be that tiefling magic…”

Killy did not look away from your face for a while, and you thought you saw a faintly glowing light through the fabric of the sash covering his eye, but it was gone in a heartbeat, and you chalked it up to mild heat-stroke or dehydration or something.  

As if he’d read your mind, Killy said, “Well, first things first, a pint of water for the gentleman, but after that…” he made a show of stroking his chin with his long fingers.  

“Like you don’t already know,” the faun snickered. “Just serve it to him and stop flirting.”

Your cheeks heated slightly, but the reaction was welcome enough, as was the attention.

Killy clutched his heart and shook his head. “I’m hurt, Dizzy. I’m hurt.”

The faun, presumably named ‘Dizzy’, thwapped him round the backside with a damp tea towel and retreated to take another customer’s order.  

When Killy turned his attention back to you a few moments later, with, yes, what just so happened to be your favourite drink in his hand, he was still laughing softly. “I'm sorry about him,” he said, sliding your glass across the bar. “So, how’d I do?”

“The hype is well-founded, it seems.”

He fist-pumped playfully and turned back to the faun, sticking his tongue out at him - it was dark blue, you were surprised to see - and then turning back to you. “So, what brings you to Starfall Springs?”

“You can’t work that out as well?” you asked, somewhat acerbically, sipping the drink and trying not to show just how much you liked it.  

He made a slightly odd expression, somewhere between strained and embarrassed, and said, “I could, I’m sure, but I’d rather hear it from you.”

You snorted, but soon found yourself telling the tiefling everything. You felt stuck in your job, your social and sex life was stagnating, you’d not had a decent boyfriend in years, and that morning you’d felt like a change of scene would be a good thing. “So I bought a bus ticket, and here I am.”

“And here you are,” he murmured softly. Killy listened to the whole thing. He’d sunk quietly onto a stool on his side of the bar, leaned his elbows on the counter top, and had listened; really listened. You’d not had anyone do this for you since… well… not even your brief stint at the therapist had been this cathartic. You found your hand resting on the ancient, beer-stained wood of the bar, tracing idle circles with your fingertip, and you noticed how close his fingers were to yours.  

“Tell me something?” you asked bluntly after your third or fourth drink.  

“Anything for you, handsome,” he grinned back. Coming from anyone else, that line would have been nauseating, but the way he said it, with that flippant, light-heartedness just made it seem somehow astonishingly sincere.

“How’d you know this was my favourite?” you said. “And how’d you get so good at listening?”

“I know things,” he said with melodrama in his one visible eye.  

“No,” you countered, “No, that’s not…”

He chuckled and gripped your hand. The touch was so sudden, so unexpected that you let out a little moan that was way more sexual than you’d intended.  

Killy only smiled and reached both hands up to undo the sash around his face. His long, blue-black hair was tied back off his stupidly handsome face in a low ponytail, and as he dislodged it to untie the covering, you felt the urge to touch it and run your hands through it, maybe even grip it and tug it. Your fingers twitched, but you remained still as he revealed the other half of his face.  

“I don’t show just anyone this,” he said conspiratorially. “This eye was a special gift from someone who shall remain nameless at the moment, but it lets me see all sorts of things.”

You snorted, but then you looked at him anew.  

He just laughed and you stared openly at his now-revealed left eye. A perfect, black pentagram hung in the middle of a glowing, ice blue iris, ringed with two black outer circles. It was unusual to say the least.  

You leaned closer, fascinated. “That’s… kind of…”

“Gross?” he said. “Unnerving?”

“I was just gonna go with ‘cool’…” you finished rather lamely. “Why do you keep it covered?”

He shrugged and wrapped it up again. “I don’t always want to be poking into people’s business, you know? That way it helps reduce the ‘unexpected visions’ factor. Though when you walked in, I got an eyeful - quite literally - of you and me.”

“Wait… like…” you gestured vaguely and he laughed.  

Killy leaned across the bar and whispered right in your ear, his breath tingling, “I mean, I can give you specifics.”

“Go on then,” you said, feeling oddly bold.  

Without preamble, he murmured, “I saw me with my mouth around your cock…”

“Holy shit…”

He shrugged and drew back. “I’ve never had that with anyone, by the way. Must be something special about you.”

“You sure you don’t say that to all the boys?” you sneered.  

Something softened in his face and he leaned back. “It’s not set in stone, you know? You can still say no. But something must be keeping you here. You’ve been here all afternoon. It’s getting late, and the last bus back to the city leaves in half an hour.”

“Shit.”

“You can still catch it if you leave now.”

The moment hung heavily between you, but one look at the way his sharp Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed got you thinking about him swallowing your release, and you felt heat pool between your legs. “What the hell,” you said. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“That’s the spirit,” he said with open bitterness in his voice, turning away from the bar. “You’ll have to wait til I’m done working though.”

“Fuck, that’s not what I meant,” you hastened to add. “Look, you know my whole life’s story now. You know this was a spur of the moment trip - something I’d never normally have done. It feels… I don’t know… right?”

The corner of Killy’s mouth, near the vertical scar, twitched, and he smiled. “Drink some water. I’ll be done in an hour.”

You watched him work from a quiet corner of the bar, and you definitely sobered up a fair bit in that time. Not that you’d been necessarily drunk, but something about the atmosphere had gone a long way to helping you release your inhibitions. With the water in your system, you started to note the way Killy behaved a bit more closely. He was attentive with his customers, quiet and patient, and you couldn’t help noticing from your new vantage point that he rested one hock slightly against the other whenever he paused to hear someone speak. His eyes constantly darted around, and he had a nervous habit of playing with his right earring when someone lingered too long or got too close.  

His trousers were loose linen, cuffed tight around his elegant, almost cervine ankles, and but from what you could see, his legs were hairless. He was not built like a faun, despite having the hooves.  

Eventually he washed his hands and swapped shifts with a huge minotaur who came in and high-fived him as he left. Killy glanced around the bar and then spotted where you had parked yourself, and he smiled.  

“You’re still here,” he said when he had drawn level with your table.  

Your mouth was still dry from watching the way he had dropped his shoulders in relief and the elegant way in which he had walked over to you, hips swaying softly as though he wore heels. You croaked. “Yeah.”

“Look, just because I saw one future possibility… I really mean it. You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“No strings attached, right?”

“Absolutely.”

“Ok.”

“Just like that?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I’ve had a couple of pints of water and an hour to think it over. Why can’t I have something that’s still meaningful with a complete stranger?”

His lips twitched again. “Right. C’mon.”

He led you upstairs, his hooves clunking softly on the bare wooden tread of the staircase, and into a very humble bedroom at the top of the old pub. A double bed occupied one wall but the sloping ceiling took out practically half of the other side of the room. A little free-standing wardrobe stood against the far end, and a pair of low bookcases stood on either side of the bed, doubling as beside tables with little lamps. It was surprisingly spartan for such an apparently flashy tiefling.  

As you dumped your bag in the corner, you looked at him in surprise and he smiled softly, standing so close you could smell the soft scent of jasmine on his long hair. He had a freckle on his cheekbone. Your eyes drifted to the scars on his lip, and you wondered where he’d got them from. Before you could ask, he was kissing you. He began slowly, hesitantly, but something about the way he treated you made you ache for more.  

Blood pooled in your groin and you felt your cock stir as his hands took hold of your jaw and he groaned. He had a slight shadow along his own jaw and you relished the rasp of it against your skin. He pressed his body close, his hips rearing against yours, and you grunted softly as you felt the hardening line of his cock against your hips.  

Killy backed you against the closed door and as the air left your lungs with another softly articulated grunt, his fingers found their way to your waistband. He glanced at you and saw the acceptance in your face before continuing. He let your jeans fall to the floor and he freed your cock, stroking it slowly, apparently enjoying the feeling of wrapping his hand around it, getting to know the way you felt in his hand.  

He stroked you, working you slowly, luxuriantly, while your knees felt like they were going to turn to water. “Killy,” you hissed, and he caught your meaning.  

You stepped out of your jeans and abandoned them, allowing him to pull you over towards the bed and push you down onto it. The tent in his own soft trousers was obvious now, and you reached your hand for it, intending to palm him briefly and tease him, but he grabbed your wrist and placed it back on the bed as he tipped you expertly down onto your back.  

He took your shirt off and let his palms play over your torso. As much as you may have been underwhelmed by your own body, he seemed to relish the chance to touch it. He lingered on your collarbones and on your nipples, even lowering his lips to them and kissing you over and over while his hands painted slow circles over your lower torso and hips, down towards your thighs.  

“Fuck, Killy… please!” you grunted as your cock pulsed again, printing pre-come onto your skin. You felt like your skin was a size too small all over as he trailed a fingertip down the line between thigh and hips, dangerously close to your sensitive balls. “Fuck! Stop teasing me!”

He laughed and took you by surprise by lapping the tip of his dark tongue against the head of your cock, tasting you. His one visible eye rolled closed at the taste of you, and in one swift motion he licked his lips and took you all the way to the back of his throat.  

As your tip hit the silky soft flesh of his throat, you gasped and cursed.  

He closed his fingers around the base of your cock as he withdrew, keeping his cheeks hollowed, and he began to suck. The heat and slide of his mouth over your hard cock was incredible, and he clearly enjoyed the feeling too.  

He was as clever with his hands as he was with his lips and tongue. Killy worked your cock with his mouth, alternating between long, regular strokes and teasing sucks and licks around the head of your cock, just sliding you in and out of his lips before dipping his head and letting you hit the back of his throat again. Time slid by, but all too soon you were shuddering on the edge of release.  

“Killy…” you hissed. “I’m…”

White heat built rapidly and you knew you were very close.  

He sucked just a little harder, his fingertips tracing just behind your balls, and you came hard into his mouth. He swallowed you down without breaking eye contact with you.  

The intensity of your release had taken you somewhat by surprise.  

Sure, it had been a while since someone had blown you, but still, the way he’d lavished attention on you had been something else. He stayed there while your cock throbbed and leaked the last drops of your release onto his tongue, only drawing back and licking his lips when you had completely finished.  

“Did the vision live up to reality?” you finally rasped as you lay back, slightly dazed.  

He smiled. “You don’t want to know what else I just saw…”

“Something tells me I might enjoy it?” you hedged. “Just… gimme a minute…”

Killy lay down on his back, still fully clothed, and smiled, glancing sideways at you. “I’m yours for the night.”

************************************

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[itskimtaehyung]

Dollhouse (Preview)

for the Bangtan House of Horrors collab

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Haunted House/Haunted Doll AU, supernatural horror

Content/Warnings: Violence, Gore, Death, Spirit Possession

Word Count: TBD

Summary: After marrying the love of your life, Jeon Jungkook, the two of you move into your dream home. However, an uninvited guest turns that dream home into a nightmare. Will you and Jungkook make it out of the Dollhouse alive?

1940

Blood covered the room. Some of it even splattered onto his favorite doll.

“Jihoon, what did you do?!?” His mother exclaimed from the doorway. She ran over to him and crouched down to cup his cheeks. 

His two younger sisters lay on the floor with their throats slashed, their lifeless bodies bathed in red.

He pointed toward the white fabric figure on the floor. “The doll made me do it! It was the doll, mommy! I promise! It wasn’t me!” He dropped the knife that was in his hand. He felt tears roll down his cheek. “Am I in trouble, mommy? Am I going to go to jail?”

His mother grabbed him and pulled him toward her chest. “Shhhh. Don’t say things like that. Mommy will take care of it. Don’t tell anyone about this or else we’ll both be in big trouble. Do you understand?”

He nodded and sobbed as his mother held him.

“Babe! I absolutely LOVE this house! It looks just like the photos online!” You pull your newly wedded husband through the kitchen, grinning and bounding along.

It was a quaint, two-story house with a front porch, attic, and spacious backyard. It sat just outside of the city, right where the pastures and farmland began. The green grass stretched for miles. Your neighbors' house was just a tiny speck down the road, and you were surrounded by peace and quiet.

“It’s all modern cabinetry. The previous homeowners remodeled it when they bought the house a couple of years ago,” the real estate agent informs you with an animated smile.

“They were only here for two years?” Jungkook asks. “Why did they move so soon?”

“They realized it was too far out of the city for them to keep commuting to work everyday, so they moved back.”

Jungkook nods his head before leaning toward you. “I don’t get good vibes from this place. Are you sure this is the house you want?”

“What do you mean you don’t get good vibes?” You ask him.

He frowns. “I don’t know. I can’t really explain it.” From the moment he stepped foot on the property, something just didn’t feel right. There’s a strange, heavy feeling in the air, much like that eerie calm before a storm. It’s something he can’t describe, but is very much /there/.

“You don’t think it’s haunted, do you? You know the real estate agent legally has to disclose if someone has died on the property?” You turn toward the agent. “Has anyone passed away in this house?”

“No, there are no records of any deaths on this property,” she said, in monotone, completely factual, as if she was tired of explaining it to everyone who’s looked at this house. Then, her previous cheery disposition returns. “Shall we check out the bedrooms?”

“See,” you say to Jungkook. “Nothing to worry about.”

He grimaces but reluctantly agrees and follows you and the agent around the house.

Once you finish the tour, you can’t contain your excitement. “Everything about it is perfect!” You exclaim, hopping up and down. “We’re not too close to our neighbors, so we can have some peace and quiet, it’s not too far from the city or the grocery store, and it’s a good size for if we want to start a family or have guests stay over! And it’s way below our budget! That gives us room for any renovations we might want to do!”

“If it makes you happy, it makes me happy.” Jungkook forces a smile and kisses you on the forehead.

You give him a quick hug and then say, “We’d like to make an offer on this house.”

“Great!” The agent claps her hands together. “Let’s head back to my office and fill out some paperwork.”

[sunnybimbo]

for @hunkshipweek day 2, magic/supernatural!

ship: shunk (shiro/hunk)

word count: ~5k 

Read it on AO3.

“You don’t have to do this.” Pidge says to him, just as the dawn begins to settle. He’s surrounded by faceless people, or atleast it feels that way with how little they look at him, so he focuses on nothing but her. Heavy makeup is traced across his eyelids, golden lines echoing the whisper of sun beams that paint his skin.

His lips are doused even heavier in it, shinier still, and he tries not to mess up the hard work everyone went through to make him pretty as he says, “I kinda have to.”

He reaches over with his free hand, the one not dipped in oil and painted with intricate patterns, pressing their palms together. “If all goes well, you’ll see me next week.”

Someone harrumphs behind him, and he hears a mimicking, condescending, “If all goes well.”

Which was fair. Truly, if all went well, he’d be gone before the end of the day, snatched up by greedy gods who demanded their prize. It wasn’t often someone was chosen to be sacrificed, only one every few years, and even less often that people disappeared.

But, when those years pass and someone never returns, the crops are always abundant and plentiful, and the village prospers. If all goes well.

Pidge’s eyes are wet, but tears don’t fall past her clumped eyelashes as his hand is plucked away to be painted to match the rest of him.

It’s because of her that he’s here.

Not purposefully, of course. He’d volunteered, after she was called upon by the village head to take over the duty as the chosen. She came to him, terrified not just for herself but for her family.

Ever since Matt had gotten taken, she’s the only one left in her family that was spritely enough to make money. Her father was deeply ill, always, and her mother struggled enough with the despair she felt in her heart after losing one child.

Hunk had come to the village alone as a child, not necessarily abandoned but it felt that way sometimes. But he didn’t have people depending on him as much as Pidge did. It was only natural.

Hunk never considered himself to be the brave type— and in fact, his stomach was trying to claw its way through his gut as he sat on the throne that may just as well been his crypt— but he put on a mask to broadcast as much for her.

His head is jerked away, breaking their gaze prematurely, and he feels himself blush as his robes are tugged away so they can mark the rest of him, exposing him completely nude. Pidge hardly batters an eye, but she does turn away for decency’s sake.

“I’ll miss you.” She says, after a quiet moment of listening to the faceless group swarm around him like flies homing in on a rotting carcass. His hair is tugged from scalp to root, forced straight by a fire-hot comb. “I’ll keep your house clean.”

“Thank you.” Hunk says, honestly. “If I don’t come back…” He hears Pidge’s sharp inhale, but he continues over her with, “You can have all my stuff. Even the stuff I pretend to hide.”

“Not like I haven’t snooped through it anyway, like you do me.” Pidge gripes. Neither of them mentions the way she sniffles, wiping at her nose with her short sleeves.

It was nearing fall, the perfect time for crops to flourish before winter hits hard, but the weather was unforgiving. Hot and sticky with mist from morning to noon and on, it more often than not led to people wandering to the nearest body of water and floating until they pruned like sour grapes.

Hunk supposes he should be thankful that he’s expected to be naked, then, instead of wrapped in layers and layers of heavy, uncomfortably ornate robes and gowns. He’d cling to little mercies like that until this entire thing passed.

And really, this was a good thing. If best came to best, he’d be pampered all week long and then, better still, taken care of for the rest of his life. The chosen ‘few’ were never abandoned by the village, as per tradition.

Really, it would have been a more fought over position if not for the even rarer few that disappear.

 ---

 Pidge is dismissed out of the room that has nothing more than a stone throne. She would have gone kicking and screaming if she hadn’t been asleep after sitting with him for nearly seven hours.

Hunk watches her get carried off, but his gut instincts tell him that she’s going to be just fine. As for himself, however…

The caretakers position him down to the hair on his arms, giving him a sharp slap on the thigh if he even twitches his nose. It’s uncomfortable and demeaning, and the tears sting at the corners of his eyes, but he sucks it up because he does not want to sit through getting his makeup redone.

He’s draped in silk, wrapped to be enticingly teasing across his lap and his shoulders, but he feels like he’s drowning in delicate threads. It doesn’t help that he’d been bathed in oil for so long that his bones feel like jelly. He could hardly smell anything other than the overpowering florals meant to last for the rest of the week.

A caretaker pins his hair too tightly to his head, the final decoration to the centerpiece that Hunk was. It nearly overwhelms him, and his fingers twitch to rip it out and run off into the forest, but he somehow convinces himself to stay put.

The group leaves, silent enough that he doesn’t realize it’s happened until his heartbeat fades into the quiet and he’s left alone with nothing but the faint drip of water from the nearby pool.

Hunk rolls his neck, vindictively satisfied when he feels a lock of hair fall out of place.

He hadn’t realized that the quiet would be the worst part of this, but it’s only five days. Five days of being a living doll for a greedy god and his self-proclaimed lackeys.

He grips the armrest of his throne and lets his eyes flutter shut.

Just five days.

 ---

That first night, Hunk disappears.

---

 He blinks just once, it feels like, but everything changes.

Hunk rolls over, realizing that he’s in a bed rather than on a stone slab, and the pillows pull him in to their sinful embrace of woven satin and fluffed feathers.

The room he’s in is something fit for royalty, grand and tall. The windows are layers with thick glass, but they’re somehow warm to the touch when he pads over to look out of them.

He’s on some sort of island, he thinks at first, until he realizes that the rolling blue he sees isn’t an ocean, but the sky itself. Clouds circle past him, misting the ground with dew, and Hunk feels faint.

He sees a city, off to the left. It’s far enough away that he can’t make out all of the details, but everything looks to be outlined in royal starlight, and Hunk is sure he’s lost it.

He’s still dressed as he was before he… was kidnapped? The shawls cling to his skin as he starts to nervously sweat all over, but his makeup doesn’t run. He takes an unsteady step across the plush carpet, and he can’t resist wiggling his toes against the soft fuzz that gathers between them.

He stumbles to the door, like a newborn deer seeking freedom.

The hallway is just as grand as the room, sconces lining every stone and illuminating them in rainbow hues, but Hunk doesn’t get a chance to focus on them because he runs directly into another person as soon as he steps out.

He stumbles, but the other catches him before he can fall. A chill cuts through him as he takes in the skin, and he suddenly feels like a lonely figure alone in the dark in the middle of a freezing winter.

His vision blurs, but he doesn’t realize that they’re tears until the person— the god— in front of him wipes them away.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” He’s told. “I would have given you more warning.”

“Um.” Hunk starts, focusing on the dark hand that releases its hold on him. He swears he sees stars dancing across those fingertips before they fade into the pale skin, further up the forearms.

He belatedly realizes the god is missing an arm, then.

“Um.” Hunk repeats, head jerking to look him in the eye. “Did I die?”

“No.” The amused god assures, hooking his arm in Hunk’s to lead him down the hall. “Nobody dies here.”

“Oh.”

Hunk pauses, going green around the edges, and the rest is a blur.

 ---

 He learns that 1) he truly isn’t dead and 2) Shiro chose him to be his sacrifice.

“More of a gift, I’d like to think.” Shiro murmurs, running his thumb across the curves of Hunk’s cheeks after his nausea has passed and his skin isn’t as pale.

He was carried, and yes that is literal despite the god missing a limb, to a nearby pasture— a plateau of sorts that overlooked the entire kingdom. The grand city Hunk had seen from his window was apparently one of three, and each was overlooked by a different god. It went completely over Hunk’s head, or maybe he didn’t want to focus too much on the logistics of it.

He focuses, instead, on Shiro. Takashi Shirogane, the technical ruler of his entire village, that preferred to be known as Shiro because it made him feel less intimidating despite the gnarled scars running up his half-arm and the wide expanse of his shoulders.

Shiro watches him in return. He doesn’t say much, that introspective type. It makes Hunk nervous to have his every move watched, but Shiro has a gentle look on his face, so maybe it isn’t all bad.

“So… I’m not dead. I’m your gift? So, like a concubine or something?”

Shiro snorts— a god, snorting!— and quickly shakes his head. “Not at all, unless that’s what you choose to be.”

He tilts his head, dropping onto his knees besides where Hunk was curled in the grass. He has wings, Hunk realizes, that only show when the sun is directly behind him. They’re transparent like snowflakes, reflecting light, and they look just as fragile.

“I chose for you to come to this realm because I’m interested in you.” Shiro confesses. “I’m the selfish type, you see. I’d like to get to know you better.”

Hunk wheezes in surprise, probably in what’s meant to be a laugh. “You want to get to know me? A plain old human boy?”

“Yes.” Shiro leans closer, staring directly into Hunk’s soul. His fingers stray to Hunk’s makeup, seemingly before he can stop himself, and they rub along the paints staining his skin as he says, “There’s no one I’ve been interested in more.”

Shiro has been called many things in his eternal life, but he’s never been called a liar. He’d seen Hunk before— seen everyone and everything before, actually— but now, decorated and docile before him in sheer robes and adorning his sigils? He wasn’t just interested, he was smitten.

Hunk regards him cautiously, as if he’s seeing every bad ending play behind his eyelids when he blinks, but Shiro hurries to assuage his fears with a gentle touch to his hand and a, “As agreed, your village will prosper. I’ll send someone to bless the crops soon.”

Unfortunately, that seems to have the opposite effect he’s hoping for. Hunk’s eyes grow sad, wet at the corners, and he mumbles to himself, “So I really can’t go back?”

It hurts his heart to hear that, but Shiro is understanding. He’s a selfish god, yes, but not a cruel one.

He stands, tugging Hunk to his side, where he belongs. Then, he opens a portal, laying out the entrance to his temple. “I won’t keep you here if that’s truly what you wish.” Shiro says to him, pressing into his space until they’re chest to chest. “But also know that I won’t let you go that easily.”

He feels the mild onset of panic thrumming across Hunk’s skin, so he backs off with a disarming smile. “Let’s make a deal.”

He’d always been known to be a clever god, too.

 ---

 Hunk feels himself wake up, startlingly sudden. The hills are alight with the rising sun, and the sunbeams are warm against his freezing toes as his senses come back to him one by one.

He can see his caretakers’ shadows crawling across the wall like lizards, and Hunk is sure he must not have been gone long at all.

The glittery gold on his lips is smudged out of place, he can see from the mirrors lining the walls, and he can faintly remember Shiro’s thumbs smearing across it when they’d first met. He can still feel his touch, actually, omnipresent as if Shiro is just waiting for him off to the side.

It makes him nervous, but not in the way he was expecting. His heart jitters in his chest, nervous like someone confessing their love with a spring love letter.

Pidge is with the caretakers, Hunk can hear. She’s arguing to come in, from her tone, and Hunk fondly shakes his head. He couldn’t bear to leave her alone in this little village. Not that she would be truly alone, not with her mother and father who care for her so dearly.

Hunk remembers Shiro’s deal then, a gentle reminder from the god himself, probably.

“Fall in love with me before the week ends,” Shiro whispered, and it felt much like the moon eclipsing the sun. “And you must stay here.”

He’d circled around Hunk’s back, clawed fingers tilting Hunk’s chin up to have him look at the clouds. “If you’re able to resist, I’ll let you go with a wish of your choice for wasting your time.”

It sounds like a trick— too much of a win-win for Hunk and not for Shiro, but it isn’t like he has many options being a mortal toy in a god’s hands. And Hunk’s betraying heart actually trusts him, too, to keep his word.

Hunk keeps it a secret from Pidge, just in case.

 ---

The second night, Hunk is taken again.

---

 A bundle of wildflowers is placed in his hands, tied delicately together with a wrap of ribbon. The long grasses tickle his fingertips as he sniffs at the pollen in the center, only to sneeze a cloud of it away.

Shiro grins at him, pleased at the flushed, wide-eyed look Hunk gives him. “I learned this is something your kind does. Flowers for their beloved.”

One couldn’t blame Hunk for the dopey smile that stretches his lips, not when Shiro bashfully tucks one of the dandelions behind Hunk’s ear. If he squints, he could swear that the god was actually blushing a bit, around the edges.

“Thank you.” Hunk breathes, fingering the soft petals against his thumb. “These are lovely.”

It’s on the tip of Shiro’s tongue to relay those same sentiments back at him, what with Hunk decorated the way he was. Gold jewels wrapped around his limbs, tinkling when the charms clink together, and his hair is tied up and dipped purple. That always had been Shiro’s favorite color.

He holds off, though, because humans do these things slowly.

“If I may?” Shiro offers his hand, the only he’s got, and takes Hunk out on a date.

 ---

 Shiro takes him to dance with the stars, first. The sun hums in the plentiful space between them, but Shiro keeps him steady as Hunk is spun on Saturn’s rings.

Hunk can’t tell his fingers from the stardust, but that doesn’t matter when Shiro shows him a triage of growing galaxies in the distance, glowing with colors that Hunk didn’t even know existed.

He’d never been one for travel, much too motion-sick to even joke with the idea, but he feels completely at peace millions of miles away from ground, merging with the universe itself.

Shiro brings him back before he disappears within the universe with a simple touch to his back, pulling him close.

“May I?” Shiro asks, quiet and loud. Hunk has no clue what he’s asking, but he agrees nonetheless.

The stars get replaced with jellyfish and the space gets replaced by cold water and a faint pressure on his bones. It isn’t uncomfortable, and Hunk isn’t drowning, but that doesn’t stop the mild fright Hunk feels when he realizes.

Shiro, ever so touchy, crowds in close so that they can drift together. “I’ve got you.”

Hunk had never learned to swim— never was old enough before he was trapped in a landlocked village, but Shiro is patient enough.

The fish seem unafraid of them as they swim pass in their groups, circling curiously to nip at Hunk’s fingers. They leave Shiro alone, for some reason, choosing to pick at the mortal boy who couldn’t get himself to stay floating on his front instead of his back.

Shiro laughs at him, and it’s an incredibly nice expression for him to have, in Hunk’s opinion. “Like this.”

He loops around Hunk to pick over his form, teasingly running his fingers down his spine just to see him shiver. “I should have asked if you knew how to swim before I brought you here.”

“Would’ve been a nice warning.” Hunk agrees, flopping onto the seafloor. A plume of sand puffs around him, disrupting the sandcrabs that hurry to run off. “But I don’t mind it. I’ve never been somewhere like this.”

He rolls over onto his side, lifting a few inches off the sandbed before floating back down again, and he runs his fingers across briny kelp that threatens to tickle his nose like the pollen did. A jawfish peeks at him from its burrow, but it runs off as Hunk passes his fingers across the hole it makes.

None of it feels real, and deep down it probably isn’t, but he feels himself getting overwhelmed nonetheless. The unending space around them— both of stars and jellyfish— is too close and too far, and—

Just as he sits up with the first panicked breath of many, he’s back in the room he’d started. Shiro sits on the bed with him, worriedly chewing his lip as his hand hovers the space above Hunk’s chest.

“I’m sorry. Humans aren’t meant to experience things so quickly.” Shiro climbs fully onto the bed, and Hunk realizes that it must not have been real because neither of them are dripping wet. “It’s so strange to me, that you live so long but experience so little of your universe.”

And really, Hunk would be offended on behalf of mankind if he wasn’t drained by his sudden existential crisis.

Shiro kisses his forehead, cautiously careful. “My apologies, Hunk.” And then, much like their first meeting, he wipes away the gathered tears blinding him.

Hunk squints at Shiro, suspicious all at once. “Why are you doing this?”

Shiro looks like he wants to play coy, at first, but his shoulders drop and he pulls his hand back to give Hunk his space. “I love you.”

The confession is so sudden and out of the blue that Hunk nearly jumps out of his skin. He does jump off of the bed, gathering his robes just to give his hands something to do. “Why ? You hardly know me.”

Shiro seems confused at the question. “I know enough. I know the type of person you are.”

“That’s not how it works.” Hunk says, exasperated. “Love is supposed to be slow— you wake one day after years and you realize that you never want to leave the other person’s side. That sort of thing.”

And really, that’s a lie.

Hunk couldn’t count on four hands the amount of times people have run through their village, wind-flushed and enamored with their partners as they search for a place to be eloped. Most of them had hardly known one another for maybe six months.

Hunk has a right to want things to be slow, though. Right? Right.

Shiro frowns then. Not angry, but introspective. He stands to Hunk’s height, just a few inches more, and tilts his head up so that they can look one another in the eye. It seems to be something he likes doing.

“Gods aren’t supposed to fall in love at all.” He says, finally.

Shiro is a fantastic creature. He’s translucent, almost, but his missing hand is replaced with nothing more than space itself. His wings match, and if Hunk could reach up and palm his scalp, he would probably find horns there, too.

But, besides that, he’s face is soft and his eyes are open. With the expression he has now, lips slightly parted, dark eyes darker when they’re half-lidded, Hunk feels helpless.

His touch is gentle, fingers sliding lower and lower down Hunk’s body until they catch themselves at his hip, and Hunk is pulled in by it.

He’s sure, for the longest, that Shiro is going to close the distance between them and kiss him on the lips— he wants that to happen— but they break apart.

“Let me take you home.” Shiro murmurs, urging Hunk towards the door. “I’ll do better next time.”

The door opens, not to the hallway but through a mirror in the temple, and Hunk feels oddly disappointed.

When Hunk hesitates, Shiro gives him the most charming of smiles and says, “I’ll listen to what you said. Don’t forget to come back tomorrow.”

Hunk isn’t even sure of how to get back on his own, but he nods anyway.

 ---

 He tells Pidge immediately what happened.

“I don’t know if what he wants from me is what he says, but…” Hunk sighs. “He’s sweet.”

Pidge’s eyebrows disappear behind her messy bangs. “The god that you were sacrificed to is sweet.”

She’s taking it rather well, in all honesty. Hunk isn’t sure he’d be as calm as she seemed, if the roles were opposite. “What do you think I should do, Pidge? I’m falling in love with him, probably, but if that happens, I’m going to have to leave.”

“There’s nothing for you here, Hunk.” Pidge sighs. She steps between the pillars that he isn’t allowed to pass, the ones that act as entrance to the temple, and she hooks her hands on her hips as she looks him straight in the eye.

“You’re here.” He mumbles, sulkily if not for the serious situation.

She rolls her eyes, exaggerated in a way that he knows is just to make him feel better— but it works. “Who am I to stand in the way of a god and his lover?”

She leads him further into the temple, familiar with it even though she didn’t want to be. Her fingers trace the engravings on the throne as she plops down on it, and Hunk sits on the ground beside her. That’s how it probably would have been, with her dressed up and taken away, if he hadn’t stolen her place.

“I convinced Ma that it’s best we leave this place.” Pidge says, after they get settled. “Right before this entire thing happened— when I didn’t even know I was gonna get picked. She’s all for it.”

She shakes her head, pulling her legs to cross in the seat. “We’re not going to be here much longer, Hunk. Once we get enough money for a cart, we’re grabbing everything we can and we’re leaving in the middle of the night.”

Hunk is struck, then, with a thought. Shiro had promised that if Hunk went with him, the town would be blessed— the crops would flourish, the town would thrive. Pidge would be able to get enough money with odd jobs alone, probably.

“I see that look on your face.” Pidge says, squinting at him like she does when she knows he’s doing something he shouldn’t be.

“I’ll handle everything, Pidge.” Hunk promises. “I know you and your family will be able to get out of here before the next season.”

“And what about you and the mistress?”

Hunk grimaces at the phrasing, and by the cheeky grin on Pidge’s face, he knows she did it on purpose.

 ---

Shiro doesn’t come for him that night. Even after Hunk has steeled himself long after Pidge has gone, and has paced the entire temple to tire himself out to fall asleep and meet with him, Shiro never comes.

Hunk doesn’t sleep well.

---

 That next morning, when Hunk looks at himself in the mirror, he finds Shiro looking back at him, instead.

“I know your plan.” Shiro says, after Hunk’s startled yell. Immediately, Hunk is on edge, taking a hesitant step away, even though Shiro isn’t even in the same realm as him.

Shiro looks defeated behind the glass, shoulders dropping. “I’m not angry at you.” But obviously upset, nonetheless. His eyes are heavy with heartbreak, and Hunk feels his own heart cracking down the middle just from that. “I understand why you would want to do it.”

Hunk can’t seem to get his voice to work immediately, and he must take too long to respond, because Shiro continues on with, “Our deal is rescinded.” He looks dull— no longer shaped with stars, but instead edged with opaque black. “I never meant for you to feel trapped.”

A greedy, selfish god, but not a cruel one.

“Shiro.” Hunk presses his hand against the glass, and it’s just as cold as that first touch they shared. “I… didn’t mean it like that.”

Shiro, somehow, is able to smile at him. “I know you didn’t.” It’s sad, a tad watery, but he’s resolute as he says, “I admire you a great amount, Hunk. No matter what’s happened. I will keep up my end of the deal— granting you the wish of letting your town prosper.”

He waves a hand— and nothing immediate happens, but Hunk can feel the magic thrumming through the wind.

“Good luck, my love.”

And then, he’s gone.

 ---

 Hunk is left alone for that entire day, excluding the caretakers who don’t talk to him. It leaves him with plenty time to feel terrible, with enough to spare to think about a solution.

The caretakers are slow, with more than half the week finished. Tomorrow would be the last time for a few seasons that they would have to take care of a person instead of the temple, and they seem bored of their duty.

By the time they leave, the sun has set and Hunk’s toes are pruny with lavender oil. He waits longer, though, because if he gets caught he’s going to get in astronomical amounts of trouble.

When the moon is high, and most of the lights are out in the nearby homes, Hunk sneaks past the temple gates and out into the forest, towards Pidge’s house.

Rocks and twigs dig uncomfortable into the soles of his feet, what with him being barefoot, but he trudges on until the path smooths to stone and he can see the furnace outside of Pidge’s house burning low with dying embers.

 ---

 She’s surprised to see him, especially trying to sneak through her window once she comes in from bringing fresh water from the nearby spring.

She’s less surprised to hear what happened. More irritated.

“Hunk.” She groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her glasses aren’t in the way, half-melted after she’d accidentally dropped them in her smithy.

Hunk is curled up in her bed, looking much like a kicked street puppy. She sighs for the tenth time that half-hour, lighting the oil lamp on her desk.

“I don’t know much about what’s going on.” She confesses. “I don’t know anything about gods, or magic, or love, or anything like that. But even so, I know that you’re kinda messing up your own chances here.”

She hops onto the bed beside him. “Don’t you go making yourself unhappy, Hunk. Not for my sake, or anyone else’s. I already have a plan to get out of here, and if you stay and I’m gone, what’s going to be the point?”

It makes him feel better and worse at the same time.

“Now I’m taking you back to that temple, and you’re going to kick and fuss until that ornery god-suitor of yours comes back and takes you on a honeymoon.”

 ---

 One would think, upon seeing Hunk in the middle of the day— of the final day as ‘sacrifice’— that he would hurry to call upon Shiro and fix everything and, if all goes well, have his happily ever after.

But he’s scared. There’s no guarantee that anything he says will fix it, or make Shiro feel better, and he’s not even sure if his own feelings are true or not.

Hunk knows, though, deep down, that he wants to be with Shiro.

He crosses his arms and then uncrosses them. Follows the length of the room to the left, and then back to the right.

It’s all just to kill time, or maybe his own body is having fun watching his heart and brain torture one another.

Eventually, he leans his forehead against one of the mirrors and heaves a sigh that fogs the glass. “Shiro…”

He hears a whisper of his name start on the window before he sees Shiro appear before him. “Hunk.”

He doesn’t look much better than Hunk feels, if he’s being honest, but he’s still a stunning figure, and Hunk ignores his nerves for once and trudges forward with, “I’m sorry.”

Shiro flinches at the words, pulling back. His image fades, but Hunk steps forward as if he could physically step through to pull him back.

“Wait! Just, let me say something?” Hunk rests his hand against Shiro’s jaw, tracing the skin as if they were actually touching. Shiro’s eyes flutter shut as if he could actually feel it. “Please?”

Shiro’s eyes stay shut, but he nods his assent.

“I’m not sure if I’m… in love with you.” He starts. “I’ve never been in love. Romantically. But I’m willing to try, with you.”

He feels a shift in the room, magic curling around his peripheries, but he continues on when Shiro’s eyes— languid grey instead of black— open. “You’re a very charming god.” Hunk says, cheeks heating. “And incredibly pretty. I’m not sure what I can offer, but… I’m offering what I can.”

Shiro seems stumped at the confession, stumbling past the second half. His eyes are wide with surprise, stance guarded, but he looks pleased anyway.

Hunk blinks, and he’s in Shiro’s castle. Shiro’s arm comes to wrap around his shoulders, squeezing him tight as Shiro softly confesses, “I was hoping I would get to see you again. I wasn’t expecting it to be so soon, with such… pretty words.”

He’s shy, Hunk realizes. His cheeks are dusted pink, he’s nervously fiddling with his hair when he pulls away, and he can hardly look Hunk in the eye. It’s incredible how such a romantic soul, who literally brought Hunk to see the heavens themselves, could be so bashful.

Hunk’s laugh comes out as a snort that startles Shiro, who hurries to say, “I think that you’re also pretty, of course. Beautiful. And kind, and— perfect.”

Just like that, all of Hunk’s preconceived notions of Shiro are gone, and he’s mesmerized by the man before him.

He presses a kiss against Shiro’s cheek, partly to save him from rambling himself into a puddle. “Can we start over? Before I messed up.”

And Shiro is a greedy god, a selfish god, a lonely god. But forever and always would he be a kind one.

[alifeenrouteblog]

a week in ireland: recap and travel tips

I went to Ireland for a week with my family! Here are some things I saw, did, and learned. Maybe it will be helpful for you if you ever go!

Overall, I loved it. It was way more beautiful than I thought it would be. I was kind of expecting it to be just green. It is very green. But there's also a lot of mountain views, ocean views, a lot of bodies of water actually. The green pastures are full of sheep, cows, and horses, and since we were then in early May, we got to see a bunch of baby animals on our drives. IT WAS FREAKING ADORABLE! 

The best part of Ireland? The people are so effing nice. So nice. Not in a creepy, fake way like in the Midwest of the US. No one really approached us. Men didn't oggle me. But if we ever approached someone to ask for directions, help they were very very helpful and never acted as if they were annoyed or we were inconveniencing them. Same for servers and bartenders. I couldn't believe how kind they were for people who don't make their living off tips. The service was usually a bit slow compared to the US but if you're not in a rush and just relax, it's not a big deal. At one point, my brother asked a bartender for a "Jameson and Pep", a coworker told him it was really popular in Ireland. The bartender didn't know what it was, but he was so nice abou it and we could tell that he genuinely wanted to find out what it was so he could make it. When I'm at a bar in the US and need something somewhat obscure from the bar, and bartenders are so sassy or dicks. The Irish bartender's response surprised me, it wasn't what I was used to. He could've easily made Ryan feel uncomfortable but he was a total pro. That's just one example of how the people were so, so, so nice. We had some freaking hilarious taxi drivers, who were also incredibly helpful.....The Irish people truly made the trip.

Currency: Euro. A lot of places took cards. But if you want to go to the old, small pubs be prepared and bring cash.

Tipping rules confused me. You always hear, “They don’t tip in Europe”, but it doesn’t seem to be completely absent. To be safe, I would say leave 10%. Note: If you’re paying by card there’s usually not a way to tip on your card. Try to leave a 1 or 2 Euro coin.

How expensive Dublin is surprised me. A pint of Guinness was about $8. I couldn’t find an AirBnB (whole flat) for less than $200. A private room was at least $80. Groceries were really expensive.

Helpful Tip: They use the UK outlets, i.e. the three-prong outlet.

Transportation:

·      The Irish Rail system, which goes all around Ireland was great. Very clean and on time. I can’t speak for the entire system but all the routes I looked at had times starting at 6:30am and leaving every two hours after.

·      However, I only ended up taking one train, from Killarney to Dublin. We ended up driving around the country, which I recommend if you don’t mind driving on the left side.

·      Uber operates in Dublin, but it uses regular taxis and its metered. Or they have UberBlack, which is obviously more expensive. I requested a car on the app a few times. Just one time it worked. The other two or three times, no one responded.

Helpful Tip: Speak quietly. Apparently, Irish people generally speak quietly and a lot of times Americans embarass themselvesw by being loud in public places. This was hard for me. I'm a very loud person. :)

Helpful Tip: public transportation and the train system have wifi. Most restaurants and pubs have wifi. A lot of times its open. If not, just ask your server or the bartender what the password is. Everyone is more than willing to give it out.  

Dublin

Grogan’s Castle Lounge – a fantastic, authentic, very old school pub. Its carpeted, which gave it a cool 70s vibe. Bring cash – they don’t take cards. And be prepared for it to be packed.

Temple Bar area is the area where young, hot people party. Soooo many bars. It was very sunny in Dublin when iw as there, which rare, so the bars were packed especially the outdoor areas. People were spilling into the sidewalks. I even saw folks take stools out to the sidewalk or street. I saw that multiple times, so I think it’s pretty normal and acceptable. As busy as the area is, it’s not rowdy or gross. Everyone holds their liquor well. It's not too loud. Definitely worth going during the day time or evening.

Storehouse – in the Temple Bar area - this place felt and looked newer but still had the set-up of a traditional Irish bar/restaurant. They do have a full menu, which looked awesome and full of Irish meals, and take credit cards. They have live music, but it's more contemporary, not the traditional Irish music.

Walk along the River Liffy. We were so lucky to have fabulous weather. It was sunny and in the 70s every day. We walked along the river and stopped at a little caf�� (almost like a little snack shack) on the river for coffee.

Walk around Trinity College. It’s gorgeous. Go on a Saturday and watch a cricket match at the park adjacent to the campus. It is so fun to watch – even if you don’t know what’s going on. Cricket matches have long breaks throughout when the teams went to their locker rooms (?) a bunch of dads took their little kids on the grass and pitched a cricket ball to the kid, who had a cricket bat. The kids were like two to four years old, so it freaking darling.

Trim: Great day trip when staying in Dublin: Less than an hour drive from Dublin you can go to the city of Trim, to see the Trim Castle. Trim Castle is a special place for the DeLacy family. Hugh DeLacy, kind of the patriarch of our family, built the castle in 1172. The DeLacys were the lords of Meath (now County Meath). Three generations of DeLacy's lived here and were kind of royalty. Pretty dope right?

 The town of Trim is really cute. You could hang out there for a few hours, walking around and eating and drinking. The castle is also surrounded by really beautiful grounds that would be a nice stroll.

After 3-4 days in Dublin, I recommend leaving and going to Galway or Clare Island, both across the country. We did not go to Clare Island but a lot of people recommended it.

Galway

If you go to Galway, drive first to Connemera National Park. Spend a few hours there and hike along the trail.

Galway surprised me. It’s kind of a kitschy beach town. A cuter and more sophisticated version of a Jersey Shore or Myrtle Beach. And much smaller. They had small (very small) amusement parks, with some thrill rides. It was a very cute town.

We stayed at the Salt Hill Hotel, which was really pretty and right on the water. It’s about a 10 min taxi to the busy part of town with all the restaurants and pubs. All the restaurants and pubs looked good. It’s a busy place, so if you go for dinner you might have to try a few places to find a table. I don’t think you could go wrong with many places here. But a few recommendations:

Neactain Bar – old, authentic, small outside patio. Great place to have a pint and a cigarette. Inside, they have these cool little closed off rooms for each table. There’s no door but they have walls between tables so you get some privacy.

 ‘Tis Coilis – for great, authentic Irish bar

I heard Dough Brothers Pizza is good (from a pizzeria owner) but we did not go there.

 When you leave Galway head to the Cliffs of Moher for the day, before heading to your next hotel or AirBNB.

Cliffs of Moher:  A must see. Very beautiful. And a little scary. Try to skip the entry fee by parking far away. The tickets you pay for in the lot are for the visitor center and not for the Cliffs themselves.

Doolin: Cute town we stopped in to go to the bathroom after leaving the Cliffs of Moher. But it ended up having a very cute town center, with shops and cafes, and of course pubs. It looked quiet so if that’s your jam, this would be a great place to stay for a night or two when you visit the COM.

Go to Dingle!: We did not go but everyone I talked to in the U.S. and in Ireland said to go to Dingle. It’s supposed to be beautiful.

We also stayed in Ennis. I didn’t do much here. I opted out of dinner with family – I needed some alone time to rejuvenate. I didn’t hear strong opinions from them either way. It looked like it was more on the boring side. Its significantly inland, so I would not recommend it unless it’s on your route or there’s something you know you want to do around there.

Killarney:  Very cool town. I was underwhelmed we drove up to our hotel – it just looked like a bunch of hotels and houses. But when I met my family in town for dinner, I saw that there was a great town center. Lots of pubs, restaurants, shops. I don’t remember any restaurants or pubs we went to, but they all looked great.

Not far from the town center, there’s the Killarney National Park. My family went on a hike here after I left for Budapest. My brother said it was brutal - straight rock climbing for 1,500 feet.

Helpful Tip: When departing Dublin, take airport security rules seriously. They are very strict about them here. Over half the bags got pulled to the side, including my suitcase. There were so many bags pulled off to the side it took about 15 minutes for someone to even look at mine. I know that you’re supposed to take out your liquids, but I never do. Ever. But I just assumed that theyd look through my bag and see that all my liquids met the size requirement and I would get my bag back. When the gentleman did bring my bag back, he handed me a sandwich bag, and told me that I had to put all of my liquids, creams, and aerosol cans into the bag – AND IT HAD TO CLOSE. It took me about ten minutes and the dude watched me the whole time! I had to throw out lotion, body wash, conditioner, and something else. He watched until I sealed the bag to make sure each centimeter was sealed. It was so annoying. And it totally ruined my adorable makeup, toiletry bag. I can’t put them in a plastic baggie – I need to use my awesome cosmetic case!!!

Make sure you follow these annoying rules from RyanAir.com: “Liquids carried must be in a container of no more than 100ml (3.4 ounces) All liquids should be carried in a single, transparent, re-sealable plastic bag of up to 20cm x 20cm with a total capacity of up to a litre. You must be able to completely close the bag and be able to fit it in your hand baggage.”

I also saw a lot of people get pulled for computers, iPads that they left in their bag.