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five-rivers · 4 years ago

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Adoption (part 2)

A gift for @a-flower-lover! This wound up being more along the lines of vignettes... Little snapshots into Danny’s life after being adopted by Clockwork. I hope that’s ok! (PART 1)

Mr. Lancer had met Charles Worth before, albeit briefly. The man had fostered a number of Casper High students and with that responsibility came parent-teacher conferences. He had struck Mr. Lancer as being steady and reliable, if, perhaps, impersonal, despite his predilection for clocks and ominous announcements. A decent foster parent, if not... ideal.

Mr. Worth just didn't seem to connect with his fosters, although he certainly didn't neglect them. Then, too, were the persistent rumors that his home was haunted.

Alright. So, Mr. Lancer didn't think Charles Worth was really a children person. Oh, he was a good person! It took one to do well as a foster parent, but... yeah.

Which was why the scene in front of him surprised him so much. Not the who of it, but the what.

The who was Daniel Fenton and Charles Worth waiting outside the office. The what was smiling and having a conversation. True, Mr. Fenton's smile looked like it was pasted on over several layers of anxiety, but it was genuine.

"Mr. Worth, Mr. Fenton?" he said, tamping down his surprise. "Come on in."

"Hi," said Mr. Fenton, his voice hoarse.

Mr. Worth smiled and nodded, pushing him up with his cane.

But Mr. Fenton must have noticed the curious look Mr. Lancer was giving him. "I knew Cl- Uh. Mr. Worth before this." He winced and smiled widely to cover it up. "So, uh, make up work? Since I missed the past week?"

"Yes, well, circumstances being what they are," aka his parents trying to murder him in public, in broad daylight (and didn't that give Mr. Lancer a chill?), "your teachers have put together a few packets for you to look over this weekend. They should get you more or less up to speed with where your classes are. I'm also willing to stay after school, to help you with anything you've missed in my classes."

Jazz knocked on the door of the Worth house. She had been made aware, via various supernatural (she did not particularly appreciate writing suddenly appearing on her fogged-up bathroom mirror) and mundane (Danny did have her phone number) means, that the man known as Charles Worth was actually the ghost known as Clockwork.

How this had occurred was not entirely clear to her. She assumed ghost powers, specifically time travel, were involved somehow.

But, to be honest, that didn't really matter to her. It was secondary, less than.

What was important here was that she hadn't been legally allowed to see her little brother in over a month. To keep her parents from contacting him. To keep her from letting her parents near him. Because they were legally barred from seeing him.

Because they had tried to kill him.

Jazz planned on never seeing her parents again, as soon as she got all of her and Danny's things from their house.

But now that prohibition had been lifted, because Clockwork had forced through what had to be the speediest adoption in the history of adoptions, and Danny was now legally his son. In the eyes of both humans and ghosts. Which was... Well. Danny seemed to be excited about it, anyway. He'd looked up to Clockwork for a while, from what he told Jazz.

Internally, Jazz had more than a bit of trepidation. She didn't know what adoption meant to ghosts, didn't have any context for it. And ghosts, even the good ones, even Danny, tended to be... obsessive. Extreme. She wasn't sure how that would translate when it came to interpersonal relationships.

The door creaked open, ever so slowly, the squeak it made grating on her eardrums. At first, it appeared to have opened on its own, then a hand gripped the edge of the door, and Clockwork, in human guise, leaned out from behind it.

Jazz raised an eyebrow.

Clockwork raised one right back. "This house is haunted, you know," he said.

Okay, never mind. The only thing she had to worry about was the fact that her brother and his mentor both had terrible senses of humor.

"Hi, Jazz!"

Being used to having a half-ghost brother, Jazz only yelped a little bit at his unexpected appearance behind her. Then she sighed and ruffled his hair. He hugged her and then bounced over the lintel into the house.

"Come on! I want to show you my room! It's so cool!" His voice became fainter as he went farther into the house, until his last exclamation was an eerie whisper.

Jazz looked at Clockwork as she stepped inside. "Is he doing that on purpose?"

Clockwork smiled blandly. "I am very fond of the acoustics in this house."

She looked at her surroundings with a skeptical eye. "It seems... dark in here."

"We are ghosts," said Clockwork. "Daniel is very excited to show you his room, by the way."

"He's human, too, don't forget," said Jazz.

"I won't."

The house was creepy.

Really creepy.

This was coming from someone who had spent most of her life living under the same roof as two ghost-obsessed mad scientists.

But Danny seemed to enjoy it, and he was the one living here. It wasn't like there was anything wrong with the house. Or anything in the house. It was just... off.

Danny was half-ghost, however, so maybe this was something he needed. Perhaps not all of his peppiness could be attributed to being the heck away from his murderous former parents.

Even so. Jazz had a duty, both as a big sister and an aspiring psychologist.

"I already read it," said Clockwork, setting a cup of tea down in front of her.

"What?"

"The book you were about to give me. I've already read it. And a number of others. I am not the kind of person who goes into things unprepared."

Danny rolled into the kitchen on the ceiling. This was easy to ignore. After her life, an Exorcist reference made by her over-excited younger brother, was, well. Underwhelming.

(Okay, she was a little distracted, but only by his glee.)

"Well," she said. "That's good."

"I know this house is out of the way," said Clockwork, craning his neck to look up at his coworker, "but you are rather conspicuous."

"Hm. Am I?" asked Pandora, craning her neck down to look at her comparatively tiny colleague.

"Yes. At that size, humans with average eyesight will be able to see you from town."

Pandora looked out over the trees. "Interesting," she said, mildly. "Do you think the ghost hunters will come?"

"You've spoken to Daniel."

"Yes. He stopped by earlier today, on his way to visit Mattingly. Although, I suppose you knew that already."

"Indeed I did. May I ask, is it your intention to lure the ghost hunters here, fight them, defeat them, and then leave them just close enough to here to constitute a breach of their terms of bail and the restraining order against them?"

"I am not terribly well-versed in human law," said Pandora, "but, why, yes. That is exactly what I'm doing. Best to get it done while Daniel is visiting friends, isn't it?"

"Yes. If you had done this while he was here, I would be significantly more annoyed." Clockwork smiled the sanguine smile of a parental figure who would commit murder if their child was upset.

Pandora returned a matching grin, one that promised retribution against persons who had harmed said child in the past. "Please, Clockwork. You know me better than that. I wouldn't subject him to being in the presence of those fools."

"Good," said Clockwork, eyes glinting.

"Hey, Clockwork? Do you know why there were police cars driving down the- Oh. Hello?" He stopped at the sight of an unfamiliar woman sitting at the dinning room table, next to Clockwork. He blinked and tilted his head to the side. "Wait. Pandora?"

"Perceptive," said the superficially human olive-skinned woman. "You seemed so happy when you stopped by, earlier. I thought I would come check in on you."

"You didn't have to," said Danny, beaming.

"Pandora has been trying to convince me to set her up as one of my relatives," said Clockwork, rolling his eyes. "Would you care for a cup of tea, Daniel?"

"Umm," said Danny, dubiously. "I'll try one, I guess. Does that mean you'll be my aunt?"

Pandora smiled. "Why, yes, it does."

Clockwork groaned theatrically.

"Ah," said Mr. Lancer, at the next parent-teacher conference. "Are you Mr. Worth's wife?"

"No," said Pandora, grinning. "I'm his sister."

Mr. Lancer looked back and forth between the two very different-looking entities. "I... see."

"We're adopted," said Clockwork.

"Oh! Alright then. Now, about Daniel..."

It was a bit strange to see Danny with so much energy, Sam reflected. Strange, but good.

It just went to show how drained he had become over time, how much the constant ghost attacks and worry, all the lies and stress and impossible expectations had worn away at him over time. She hadn't seen her friend this happy since freshman year. If that.

On the other hand...

"Dude," said Tucker. "Your house is spooky. And this is coming from someone who's been inside a literal mad science lab."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Mad science labs are campy, not spooky. Besides, you knew coming in that this house was haunted." He draped himself over the back of the couch, rolling until he was 'sitting' upside-down. "Anyway, what kind of movie do you want to watch? We've got a bunch, because Clockwork apparently collects media from doomed timelines."

"He's got a hobby?" asked Sam.

"Yeah, three," said Danny. "Gardening- you should talk to him about that, by the way, I think he'd like it- baking, and alternate timeline movies. And some books, too, I think. He's got a huge library back in Long Now. I've read like. Two books from it."

Clockwork's voice floated in from the other room. "You've read significantly more than that, Daniel."

"I guess," said Danny, doubtfully. He flopped off the couch, picked himself up, and started prodding at a shelf of movies. "This is from a timeline where the Earth got beaned by a massive asteroid. It's, like, a romcom, but it was made when everyone knew the asteroid was coming. This one is, uh, this is actually a dramatization of real events, apparently, but their timeline split from ours in like the fifties, so the events are pretty wild." He waved the DVD at them. "It's surreal?"

"How'd they die?" asked Tucker.

"Wacky superscience. No, really. Irradiated the entire planet."

"How do you know?" asked Sam.

"Oh, Clockwork puts notes on the boxes. He thinks it's interesting. And there does seem to be some correlation between how cursed the movies are and how bad the timeline was. Which maybe shouldn't surprise me? I mean, if they were bad timelines..." He shrugged. "Oh, this is a CGI Lion King. I can tell you: very cursed. Absolutely soulless. And this is from a timeline where copyright laws weren't changed, so Mickey Mouse and a bunch of other stuff was in the public domain."

"Isn't that a good timeline?" joked Sam.

"You'd think so," agreed Danny. "But apartheid in South Africa apparently never stopped, and they got a nuclear bomb, and, well... World War Three."

"Is that like, a domino effect, or...?"

"I'm not sure... Anyway. Uh. Genre?" He clapped his hands together.

Tucker leaned forward. "I want the wildest version of the Matrix you have."

"Ooh, good choice. There are, like, six with Will Smith. I haven't watched them all yet, but I think the one where they've got another sequel and Zion is also a- Wait, I shouldn't spoil it."

"After that, can you see if there's a non-crappy version of Dracula?" asked Sam.

"Sure. I haven't seen one yet, but I will look."

"I have popcorn," said Clockwork, entering the room, "and various baked goods. No dairy."

"You're the best."

Clockwork selected a thick blanket from the chest, then teleported himself to the living room to drape it over the three teenagers passed out on the couch. Overall, he found pretending to be human oddly enjoyable, but it could be trying at times. Tedious. All the finicky little motions humans had to go through to do the simplest of things added up over the day.

So, Clockwork tended to ease off of them when no one was watching. It made life easier.

Heh. Life.

(He would say that Daniel's puns were rubbing off on him, but in truth Clockwork's sense of humor had been like that for, well. Eons.)

He put the kitchen in order with an absent wave of his hand, and double-checked the stove out of habit. It wasn't nearly as good as his actual oven, back in Long Now, but it was serviceable.

One of Daniel's friends mumbled in their sleep, and Clockwork looked in on them. Still peaceful. It was good for Daniel to have them here. Beneficial for both his human and ghost halves.

He hummed to himself and patted Daniel's head as he thought about their plans for the weekend. He had arranged for some truly aggravating evangelical missionaries to darken their doorstep. It would do Daniel good to inspire a touch of terror. In an entirely controlled and risk-free way, of course. No matter how unpleasant the people coming were, Clockwork had no intention of harming them, or suggesting anything of the sort.

But, well. They were ghosts. Being feared was soothing.

(Clockwork knew this wasn't what Jasmine meant when she suggested Clockwork engage in family bonding activities with Daniel. But what she didn't know...)

"I think my teeth are getting sharper," said Danny, pulling a face at the mirror. "Is that normal?" The last was shouted, to get Clockwork's attention. Intellectually, Danny knew he didn't need to do that, but a lifetime of habit was hard to shake.

"It is difficult to say what is normal for someone like you, but many ghosts do have fangs," said Clockwork. "Including myself."

"Hm," said Danny. "This isn't, like, a ghost puberty thing, is it? Because I already used up most of my evil puberty jokes."

"Oh, only most?" Clockwork slid behind him and started rubbing the tension out of his shoulders.

Danny shrugged. "Eh, give or take. But, seriously."

"No, it isn't a ghost puberty thing."

"Oh, good. Because dealing with one puberty is more than enough."

Clockwork was silent. Danny looked up and met troubled eyes in the mirror.

"Clockwork?"

"Daniel," started Clockwork, before giving Danny an uneasy smile. "Speaking of puberty..."

Danny blanched. "No."

"What?"

"No. Nope. Not doing the talk today, no sir. I got that at school."

"Daniel, as strange as Casper High may be at times, I highly doubt they taught you anything about immortality."

"What."

"It's why ghosts put so much forethought into relationships like this," explained Clockwork, careful not to look directly at Daniel's hiding place. "They might last forever. I certainly hope this one does."

"But I don't want to be a teenager forever!" wailed Danny. He had mastered the art of making his voice sound like it was coming from a completely different direction than it actually was.

Clockwork was older than human civilization and had been worshiped as a god by several civilizations. He did not wince at the heartbreak in his child's voice.

"Your shapeshifting abilities should come in after a few years," said Clockwork. "You'll be able to pass as older."

Daniel answered with a moan.

"I must confess, I'm not sure why you are so upset about this. I can see that you are, but could you explain why for me?"

"I don't knoooooowww..."

"I don't want everyone to die and leave me alone," admitted Danny, hunched over a carton of ice cream. "I don't want to see my- my people die." He sniffled.

"We don't have to stay in Amity Park if you don't want to," said Clockwork.

Danny shook his head. "No! That's worse," he said, hating how his voice tilted into a whine. "That's- I can't abandon them! I can't- can't miss their time. I just..." He let out a huff of air. "It's hard."

Clockwork wrapped an arm around Daniel's shoulders. "It may not help much," he said, "but people in Amity Park have a much higher chance of becoming ghosts. It's the ectoplasm in the air."

"Promise?" asked Danny.

"Promise. Although, who, exactly, becomes a ghost is outside of my control. All I can tell you is that the people here have a better chance."

Danny leaned against Clockwork. "Thanks," he mumbled. "Clockwork?"

"Yes?"

"You don't think I'm a freak, do you?"

"Of course not."

Mr. Lancer squinted down at Daniel Fenton's latest assignment with a mix of appreciation, disbelief, and shame. This was easily the best work he had ever received from Daniel. In fact, it rivaled papers he had received from Jasmine.

It made him wonder- How long had Daniel been suffering? What had Daniel been suffering? He was no expert when it came to abuse, but all teachers had some training, and he knew that abusers tended to escalate, starting with something relatively innocuous and ending with a travesty. For things to progress to attempted murder... What had it started as? When had it begun?

(Could Mr. Lancer have stopped it?)

(That question would haunt him more than any ghost.)

Well, there was a silver lining to this, Mr. Lancer supposed. He had rarely seen two people who got along as well as Daniel and Charles Worth. It was good, he thought, for the man to have someone in his life on a more permanent basis, rather than the revolving door of temporary foster children.

How rapidly the adoption went through was a little odd, but... Mr. Lancer shrugged. Undoubtedly, Mr. Worth had taken the time over his years as a foster parent to familiarize himself with the system, and with Daniel's former parents unfit to be anywhere near children...

He shrugged again and stamped Daniel's paper with an A+.

#danny phantom #gift #prize #winner #fic #phanfiction

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keelywolfe · 4 years ago

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FIC: Just Swimmingly ch.1 (BAON)

Summary: Stretch and Edge are happily living their best lives together, despite the occasional setbacks. This might be another one.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Additional Tags To Come

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

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Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

"that's it, babe, i'm finished. stick a fork in me, i'm done."

Edge looked over to where his husband was flopped back in the grass, an arm slung over his eye sockets. His sweatshirt had been shed some time ago, followed by his tank top and now he was stripped down to his lovely, if somewhat sweaty, rib cage. He couldn’t blame Stretch for his exhaustion, they’d been working hard since early this morning and even he was starting to feel weariness setting in.

"Not quite finished, but close," Edge allowed. "It's looking very good."

That was enough to Stretch to rise all the way onto his elbows in outrage. "excuse me, it is looking fantastic. amazing. brilliant. gimmie a second to find a thesaurus and i'll toss a few more adjectives your way."

Edge had to admit that he was right. Their new pond was shaping up into a fine addition for their backyard. Surrounded by large stones to support the two small waterfalls, the narrow path that led to it from the coop was surrounded by plants that were both visually appealing and of types that any domesticated poultry would find an appetizing snack. What couldn't be seen was the dedicated filter and drain that would keep the water clean and the automatic vacuum that would run at night to keep bottom muck free for their little aquatic acquisition.

He'd spent days researching the best way to build it, another few designing it and ordering the necessary supplies. If they were going to have a duck pond in their increasingly hectic backyard, then they were going to have the best one that he could possibly manage, but it wasn’t only the aesthetic that made all the effort worth it. There was also the way Stretch scrambled up and shifted his sprawl across Edge’s back, hugging him tightly. “hey, babe, thanks for doing this.”

“You’re welcome,” Edge leaned back into his arms, “but I honestly can’t fathom why you would ever think I wouldn’t.”

“i don’t think you wouldn’t,” Stretch said. The words were muffled, his mouth pressed close to Edge’s temple. “but you made it a priority over your kitchen when you really didn’t have to."

The kitchen was still waiting on its remodel and that was certainly his next project, but the issues there were entirely cosmetic; the kitchen was still useable, if less than aesthetically pleasing. A small duckling would not remain small for very long and needed a pond as soon as possible. The little basin Cheese had been using was not an adequate substitute.

“Of course, I did,” Edge reached back to gently touched Stretch’s cheekbone, traced the arch with his thumb, glove whispering against bone. “What kind of person would I be if I didn’t put my grand duckling first?” He highly doubted he would have said the same when they first came to the surface. In fact, he would have assumed anyone who even suggested such a thing to him was a raving lunatic. These days, adjusting his life for not only Stretch but also chickens, neighborhood children, and experiments that would be right at home in any mad scientist’s laboratory was not only automatic, it was also a pleasure.

Stretch snorted, nipping teasingly as those fingers wandered down to his jaw. "yeah, okay, grandpa. welp, we got the water and we've got the plants in it. we put in those tablets you got to regulate the ph and we've got the little waterfalls going. can we bring cheese to it now?"

Edge drew away, crawling across the grass to pick up his clipboard. He made a show of checking the list until Stretch was practically rolling on the ground in moaning impatience.

"I believe we can introduce our newest family member to their own personal playground," Edge allowed. He nearly fell back on the ground when Stretch scrambled over right into his lap, flinging his skinny arms around him.

"yes!” Stretch cheered, “time for swimmies!" Too loudly and right into Edge’s audial canal. Before he could plot any sort of revenge, ticklish, pleasurable, or otherwise, Stretch was already squirming free and bouncing to his feet. He might have used up all his energy allotted for labor, but it seemed he kept a reserve stored for excitement.

'Swimmies?" Edge mouthed, but he only shook his head and climbed to his feet to begin picking up the tools scattered about, setting them back into his toolbox. Despite the day's work, his leg was only just starting to ache. He stretched it out with a grimace but didn't yet reach for his cane. After so much bending and moving today, he'd likely need it tonight and possibly some time with an ice pack as well. It was definitely getting better, slowly but surely. Today was simply pushing him to his limits.

"cleanup can come later, babe, you gotta watch!" Stretch called.

Obediently, Edge sat in one of the deck chairs Stretch had pulled over that morning for breaktime. "Watching."

With a flourish worthy of a game show host, Stretch opened the coop door and three chickens plus a duckling came scurrying eagerly out. Before they could get far, Stretch scooped up Cheese, holding the little bundle of yellow fluff and cooing to them. Already they were visible larger, soon they would begin to shed their baby down and real feathers would begin growing in.

The tiny quacks rose in volume as Stretch carried Cheese towards the pond and before he even made it to the walkway, the little duckling was squirming loose. Stretch set them down hastily before they could fall and Cheese made a beeline straight for the pond, splashing in, their little webbed feet paddling furiously as they quacked enthusiastically.

Nugget was less than pleased with her adopted child's watery delight. She stood on the artificial shoreline, flapping her wings and loudly expressing her displeasure. Cheese ignored her loud scolding and cackles, swimming happily, and finally Nugget began to sulkily scratch around the fresh landscaping in search of bugs, occasionally giving her child a grouchy glare. Noodle and Dumpling were less concerned with the latest member of their flock and were already inspecting their new territory.

"guess it works," Stretch laughed. He was nearly clapping his hands in glee as he watched Cheese contentedly swim circles around their new watering hole.

“It better, after all that effort.” Edge set both hands at the small of his back and stretched, groaning as his joints popped. “Let them swim for a while and then we can go get cleaned up so I can start on dinner.”

Stretch scrambled for his phone, wincing as he checked the time. "shit, i didn't tell you, i'm meeting andy in town tonight. sorry, babe, it slipped my mind."

"Not a problem.” His dinner plans could be easily adjusted to account for leftovers. More curious, and suspicious, was those two going out for the evening, particularly without himself and Antwan invited along. “What are the two of you up to?"

“checking out a few bands,” Stretch said promptly. He scooped his sweatshirt off the ground, his voice briefly muffled as he pulled it over his head. “see, catty gives andy a list of local bands who profess to be monster supporters to check out. word gets arounds that being supportive of monsters can get you gigs at our events and the embassy pays well.” That was both explanation enough and a guilty relief. Neither he nor Antwan were fans of the sort of music that Catty was likely seeking. “andy is checking their sound but also trying to poke around and see if it’s all just lip service since the only asshole we want on the payroll is your bro.” He leered, running his tongue lightly over his teeth. “you’ll have to wait for my lip service until i get home.”

“an impressive feat, considering your lack of lips,” Edge said dryly. He waited for Stretch to secure their flock back in the coop, despite Cheese’s heartbreaking protests for a longer swim time. Then he took a step towards the house and while he was sure his expression didn’t change in the slightest, he accepted the cane when Stretch pointedly handed it to him. “Thank you.”

“uh huh, try saying that a little less like ‘fuck off’ and i’ll buy it,” Stretch said cheerfully. “gonna head upstairs to change. hey, wait.” Just inside the door, Stretch pushed Edge up against the wall, both arms braced on either side of him as he leaned in. The sharp thrill that rumbled through Edge’s soul was sadly disappointed when all Stretch did was say firmly. “promise me you won’t spend the whole time i’m gone working. do some of your action figures or make some muffins. do something else, okay?”

“I promise.” Still caught in the loose cage of Stretch’s arms, Edge stripped off his dirty gloves and dropped them to the floor, then reached up to cup his face lightly, cautiously, between his bare hands as he leaned up to kiss him with gentle affection.

“liar,” Stretch murmured against his mouth. He stole another gentle kiss, another slightly less gentle one, then drew back, “you’ll tell yourself just one more thing and then get caught up in something important so when i get home, you’ll be sitting on the sofa and your leg is gonna hurt like a bitch because you didn’t move for five hours.”

“That does sound like me,” Edge agreed, stealing a last kiss before letting Stretch escape upstairs.

What he did not say was that the house tended to be too quiet without Stretch in it. Even when he was only sleeping next to Edge, his presence carried a certain weight that seemed to fill the room. Work was more immersive than any of his hobbies and he would be less likely to be constantly about to speak to Stretch only to remember that he wasn’t there.

Ridiculous, really, that he could miss Stretch before he was even gone, and he wasn’t about to say a word. He wouldn’t try to hold Stretch back for the world, certainly not from his friendship with Jeff.

He was setting up his laptop on the coffee table when Stretch came back downstairs, dressed entirely from Edge’s side of the closet, the warm pulse in his soul was far less from affection and more foreshadowing of the night he hoped would come when Stretch returned. Edge might not have chosen to wear a striped shirt with that jacket, but it was undeniably attractive on Stretch’s tall, slim form, particularly coupled with jeans that clung to his femurs, all the way down to the borrowed boots on his feet.

Stretch was never oblivious to his gaze and playfully struck a pose that would have given Mettaton a fit of jealousy.

“like the coming attraction?” Stretch said teasingly. He gave a little shimmy and Edge’s mouth went dry.

“Always.” He let it come out in a rough growl, watched the brief flicker of orange color Stretch’s eye lights.

His tongue flicked out over his teeth, his own voice lowering to that whiskey-sweet rasp that Edge loved so much. “don’t lose your raincheck, you’ll get to call it in when i get home.”

He leaned down for another kiss, one that Edge gladly granted. But before he could head for the front door, Edge caught his hand, drawing it to his mouth to press a light kiss right above Stretch’s wedding band. Later, he couldn’t say why he added, “Love? Be careful.”

It wasn’t his normal version of a sendoff, obvious in the way Stretch startled, blinking down at him. “aren’t i always, mama bear?”

“Absolutely not.”

“okay, well, i’d argue that. but my reputation kinda precedes me and you’re also something of an expert witness.” He twisted his hand in Edge’s loose grip, fingertips brushing against his jaw. “i will be tonight. deal?”

“Deal.”

With a last kiss, Stretch was out the door, heading off for a night of music and fun, and Edge was alone.

He headed for the kitchen first, absently reminding himself to get working on the schematics for this remodel next. The meal he’d planned for tonight suddenly lacked appeal and instead, he decided to make it tomorrow when Stretch would be home. A sandwich would do for tonight. Before he left with his plate, he rummaged through the freezer for an ice pack to keep the dull ache in his leg from rising to a throb.

By the time he was settled on the sofa, the silence in the house was already nagging at him, the memory of his husband dressed in his clothes lingering at the back of his mind, and with it, some nebulous agitation, something that he couldn’t properly express.

Better to cut it off now before he was truly distracted. Edge opened his laptop and soon was absorbed in his work. To the point he didn’t really register the time until his phone chimed and when he picked it up to check the message, the first three words turned all the lingering, warm anticipation in his soul to ice.

We have him.

~~*~~

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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kwanisms · 4 years ago

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⤑ genre: supernatural au, incubus!Sungjin, smut ⤑ pairing: incubus!Sungjin x occultist!Reader ⤑ warning: smut, supernatural elements, satanic and occult themes, sexual content, praise kink, slight cumplay at the end, choking kink, facefucking ⤑ summary: Sungjin is an incubus that hasn't seen any action in years. So when Y/N summons him, not thinking the ritual would work, Sungjin is more than willing to play her little game. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you look at it, Sungjin doesn't make deals; but that doesn't mean summoning him will be a complete waste of time, right? ⤑ word count: 7.4k

a/n: there’s a lot of praise and dirty talk in this and Sungjin says kitten a lot but i felt it was fitting for an incubus lmao but anyway, please enjoy this dirty little oneshot!

➭ collab masterlist

When it came to the occult, no one was curious or knowledgeable as you. Well, except maybe the experts but you wouldn't admit that. No, when it came to the occult, you were more than fascinated. You were obsessed.

You had read every book you could get your hands on. Everything from witchcraft to demons to the stars in the sky and how their position affected the human psyche and physical being. You had studied it all.

The one thing you hadn't gotten a hold of was a Grimoire. A witch's black book. What fascinated you the most about this book were the rumors that it was full of spells and rituals of everything to do with healing to human sacrifice and summoning demons.

Most accounts claimed these books didn't exist. Others claimed they did but were not as dark as legends led one to believe. Regardless of its contents, you were determined to get your hands on this book, one way or another.

Lucky for you, your wish came true one night; Hallow's Eve of all nights.

Your day started like any other, getting ready for work, heading out the door as usually, stopping for your usual coffee and getting to the bookshop right on time. Once inside, you grabbed your apron and tied it on, greeting your co-worker, Ayumi.

Ayumi couldn't have been more opposite from you, dressing in light colors, mainly pastels and white, lots of floral patterns but nothing that screamed grandma's bedding.

You on the other hand wore exclusively ten shades of black.

You were greeted right back by Ayumi's bright smile and bubbly personality as she said good morning. She was in the midst of preparing a cup of coffee as the bookshops only barista. How she did it, you had no idea.

You took your place behind the cash register, starting your day by counting your till and making sure the starting amount was where it needed to be. You shut the till with a slight bang and winced, mouthing an apology to a nearby customer. Once you were open, customers started flocking over to purchase their books.

It was easy work but annoying when customers asked questions that could have been answered simply by using their eyes to look around the shop.

A couple hours passed by before Ayumi's station had calmed down enough that she could strike up a conversation with you.

"Wow," she said as she wiped down the counter with a towel. "I think that's the busiest I've been on a Thursday in a while," she said, a smile on her face.

It was hard not to smile around Ayumi. She just had one of those personalities. "Yeah, you looked like a drowning kitten," you joked. Ayumi giggled and waved her hand.

Anyone else would have been horrified and disturbed to hear your joke but not Ayumi. She knew you and she knew you were joking. Working together for 3 years would do that.

The next couple hours passed without incident, the occasional customer here and there but most of them came in for the coffee and, let's be real, they came in for Ayumi.

It was close to the end of your shift, you were wiping down your computer when Ayumi spoke up.

"Hey, you work at the museum, right?" she asked. You perked up and turned to her. "Uh, yeah?" you said cautiously, wondering if she was going to ask for free or discounted tickets or something.

Ayumi tucked her towel in the pocket of her apron before resting her elbows on the counter, arms crossed as she gave you a cheeky grin. "You ever see anything… interesting?" she asked. You fixed her with a blank stare.

"Define interesting?" you asked and Ayumi rolled her eyes. "Come on, Y/N," she said, with a slight chuckle. "You know what I mean!" You shrugged your shoulders, looking down.

"I don't know," you replied honestly. "I mean, I guess so?" Ayumi snorted and bounced in place. "Come on, Y/N! Tell me!" she pleaded, using her sugar sweet voice that annoyed you and she knew it annoyed you.

"Oh shush, Ayumi," you retorted, stifling a laugh as she started to whine like a child. "Y/NNNNNN," she begged, drawing out the end of your name. You rolled your eyes and gave in. "Alright, fine!" you groaned and Ayumi immediately squealed with glee and ran around from behind the coffee counter to rush over into your station to listen to your story.

"It's not that weird," you admitted. "But it is weird." Ayumi nodded quickly and fixed her big doe like eyes on you as you started to tell her about the time you worked the closing shift at the museum and swore you were being watched.

When you finished, Ayumi shivered and smiled, eyes wide with intrigue and glee. "That's so weird!" she whispered. You shook your head and glanced at the clock. "Ok, it's time to go," you said, nodding at the clock.

Ayumi huffed. "I wish you didn't have to leave," she said as she headed back to her station. "I wanna hear more spooky stories." You rolled your eyes again as you untied your apron. “I’ll see you on Monday,” you said as you folded your apron, set up the closed sign on the counter and headed to clock out in the back.

When you came back out the back, Ayumi handed you a cup. “For your walk to the museum,” she added with a sweet smile. You thanked her, taking a sip of the hot beverage before heading out into the cool, crisp night and making your way across town towards the museum.

The walk to the museum was mainly uneventful. You passed people on the streets, everyone of them buzzing with excitement over the holiday. For you, however, Hallow’s Eve wasn’t too exciting. You had long grown out of the dressing up and asking for candy phase so at this point, Halloween was just another day, one you usually had to work including this year.

Upon entering the museum, you checked your phone to make sure you had plenty of time. You did.

You headed through the employees only door to deposit your bag and change into your uniform. It wasn’t much of a uniform. You basically wore a jacket with the word ‘security’ on the back and your name printed in the upper left part of your chest. You grabbed your phone from your coat and slipped it into your pocket before shutting your locker and heading back out to the hallway.

Once out there, you ran into the janitor who smiled politely and nodded as he went about his business. Your boss looked over as you walked toward him and he looked over your appearance. “Well,” he said stiffly. “At least you remembered to wear your jacket this time,” he said. “I also wore tennis shoes,” you added in a deadpan tone. Your boss glanced down at your knee high converse, saying nothing.

“Right,” he said, choosing to ignore what you said in favor of handing over a folder. “Your list of nightly duties has changed,” he said as you opened the folder and flipped through it. “We’ve given you a new set of keys after the last ring… disappeared,” he said, narrowing his eyes at you.

Glancing up at him, you gave him a grimace before going back to the papers. Your boss continued to ramble on as he explained what had changed since your last shift but you couldn’t focus on him. Instead, your attention was drawn toward the loading dock.

Two men were carrying a medium sized wooden crate. Stamped on the side in red ink were the words ‘DANGER’ and ‘DO NOT OPEN WITHOUT SUPERVISION.’ Your eyes widened as you peered around your boss at the curiosity. “Y/N? Are you listening to me?” he asked.

Your attention snapped back to him. “Sorry, sir. Got distracted,” you said, nodding towards the crate. Your boss turned to see the delivery men waving him down. “Oh, you’re here already?” he asked, making his way over. You followed quickly and investigated the crate while your boss signed for it.

“What’s in there?” you asked one of the delivery drivers.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I just deliver the products,” he admitted with a shrug. With the necessary documents signed, the two men left, leaving the box on a table in the backroom. You turned back towards your boss. “What’s in there?” you asked.

Your boss looked at the crate and then back at you. “Some kind of occult nonsense. The owners were very keen on displaying it for Halloween but it’s late,” he added. You tried to hide your interest, your curiosity was now peaked and you wouldn’t be able to think about anything else for the rest of the night.

Once your boss left, you set about securing the building, checking the unlocked and locked rooms, making sure no one had stayed inside the building. Once your walkthrough had been done, you went to the security room to check the cameras. You saw nothing so you settled down in your chair and pulled out your phone. You had a few notifications from tumblr but you ignored them. That hellsite was dead anyway.

Your phone notification went off, the notification bar showing you had a text from Ayumi. You opened the message to check it. She asked if anything spooky had happened and you rolled your eyes. You replied quickly but jumped when a bang caught you off guard. You looked up to see the janitor giving you a smirk. “Did I scare ya?” he asked. You let out a half-hearted laugh. “Yeah,” you admitted.

The janitor laughed and announced he was heading out and would lock the door behind him. You waved goodbye and turned back to the cameras to watch him leave the building. You were now alone.

The first hour of your shift passed quickly. Nothing to report, so you played a few games on your phone, mostly Among Us and then a coloring app. Another hour into your shift, you ordered pizza for delivery. It took no time to arrive and when your phone buzzed, the screen flashing with a call, you ran for the front door, unlocked it and handed the driver some notes. “Keep the change!” you said you handed it to him.

He thanked you and headed back to his car as lightning flashed overhead. You locked the doors and ran back to the security room to chow down on your pizza and watch videos on your phone. You were really getting into watching a new upload from Markiplier on YouTube when something on one of the cameras caught your eye.

Pausing the video, you glanced up at the screen in question. It was a camera outside the backroom where the wooden crate had been put. You watched a few seconds more before something dark flew past the camera lens, causing you to sit upright in your seat. You set your half eaten slice of pizza down, grabbed your flashlight and phone and headed out into the corridor.

You walked quickly but not too quickly as you shined your flashlight around, the beam falling over the shiny surface of the marble floors and bronze fixtures. You reached the hallway where you had seen the blur and found it empty before heading over to the locked door to the back room and peered in through the glass. The crate sat exactly where it was left. You tried the handle and confirmed the room was indeed locked.

You decided to forego entering the room, chalking it up to your imagination and turned to start the walk back to the security office before your pizza got cold. You had only walked a few steps when a loud crash from behind the door caused you to nearly jump out of your skin. You spun around and gasped when you saw a dark shadow looking at you from inside the room.

Shining your light in the window, the shadow disappeared. Your heart raced as you slowly inched forward. You peered into the room once more and decided you had to check inside now. Pulling the keys from your pocket, you identified the correct key and unlocked the door, turning the knob slowly and pushed open the door.

Inside the room appeared to be empty but you took your time, examining the whole room thoroughly and cautiously. You were certain you had seen someone but now you could see that the room was completely empty and the door you had come in was the only way in and out of the room.

You sighed and shook your head, chalking it up to your imagination as lightning flashed out in the hallway. You headed for the door only to step on something that made a slight clunking sound against the concrete. You lifted your foot and shined the light down to see a crowbar had been somehow thrown from its hanging spot on the wall several feet to where it lay now.

“What the fuck?” you whispered. You bent down and grabbed it, the smooth steel cold against your fingers as you clenched your fist around it. “How did you get all the way over here?” you asked the crowbar, as if it would explain its acrobatics to you just like that.

Shaking your head once more, you turned to hang it back up but stopped when you heard your name being whispered. Not out loud but more like… inside your head. You froze, eyes widening before you slowly turned to check the empty room. Your eyes darted around, looking for some logical explanation, the crowbar still in your hand when your eyes landed on the crate.

You looked at the crowbar in your hand and then back at the crate. ‘What if?’ you asked yourself before shaking your head. “No way,” you whispered, turning to hang up the crowbar. “I would so get fired for that.” You turned from the crowbar now hanging on its hook and moved for the door but stopped again when you heard your name being called from inside your own head. You turned to look at the crate.

Your eyes flitted to the crowbar and back to the wooden crate, the words 'DANGER' staring back at you before you made up your mind. ‘What is one little peek gonna hurt?’ you told yourself walking over to the wall and grabbing the crowbar once again. You walked over to the table, removing your jacket and setting it aside. You inspected the crate closely, running your finger over the wood.

Half expecting a splintered piece to become lodged in your skin, you were surprised by not only the smoothness of the wood but by how new it looked. It looked like a freshly constructed box. Not taking a moment longer to dwell on it, you found a place to shimmy the pry end of the crowbar into and started to loosen the top of the crate. It came up surprisingly easy.

Once the top was removed, you set the crowbar aside and grabbed your flashlight, using it to peer inside the crate to see what oddities lay inside. You were met with a surprising and annoying amount of packing. Pushing this aside, you reached further into the box until your fingers met the edge of something hard. You set the flashlight aside and reached your other hand inside to grab the object and lift it up out of the crate.

It looked to be a book of sorts. You set it on the table and grabbed your flashlight once more, shining the beam over the book. It read ‘Ars Goetia.’ Your eyes widened as you realized just exactly what you were looking at. In all the years of research, you had heard of this book but most accounts believed it to be either lost to the ages or have never existed at all. And yet here it was, in your hands.

You took a step back, breathing heavily. From what you understood, this book was filled with different rituals to summon demons and make pacts with them. You didn’t really believe that one could summon demons or spirits but the idea fascinated you immensely. You stared at the book for a few more seconds before approaching it and opening the cover.

The inside was written in Latin and you thanked yourself mentally for taking courses in Latin when you were in college. You flipped through the pages, eyes scanning over the texts and images before stopping on a page where an image depicted a young woman summoning a demon to make a pact.

You slammed the book shut, grabbed your jacket and put it back on before grabbing the Ars Goetia and tucking it inside your jacket. You headed out of the room, shutting the door and locking it before walking back to the security room. Once inside, you downed the rest of the slice of your pizza, washing it down with some water before logging into the security system.

Outside, thunder crashed and lighting struck while rain pelted the roof and glass windows of the museum. You disabled cameras 5 and 6 which led to an old store room. Once you finished, you grabbed the book and headed back to the back of the museum, using your keys to let yourself into the store room. You set the book on a blank space on the floor and headed over to rummage through the various cabinets and were relieved to find several old candles and surprisingly a set of sidewalk chalk.

You threw off your jacket and opened the book to the page you had seen earlier, you worked quickly and diligently, drawing the same ritual circle the woman in the book was using. Once you were satisfied with your handiwork, you set the candles around the circle and searched for some matches, luckily you found some in a drawer and struck it to light the candles.

Once they were all lit, you blew the match out before setting it aside. You read the footnotes of the page and set the book in the center of the circle. You read the incantation several times to yourself to make sure you had it correctly before you started speaking.

You weren’t sure exactly why you were trying this. Maybe the mood of the day as well as the storm setting in around the city might be fueling your curiosity. You started the chant, sitting at the side of the circle, facing the book as you held your hands out to the sides, palms up.

You felt a gust of wind hit you, the flames on the candles dancing quickly. Your words faltered you as you looked around. There was no way a breeze could be in the room. The windows were shut as was the door. You decided to ignore it and continued the ritual.

“Demon, I summon you,” you said loudly when you finished the incantation. Another gust of wind hit you, extinguishing the candles. You scrambled for the flashlight, turning it on and starting to look around the room, your heart racing. You tried to hold the light steady as you examined the room but saw nothing. You let out a sigh, starting to calm down when there was a loud boom outside and an electrical buzz. You let out a shriek, quickly getting to your feet and making your way to the door to try the light switch.

Nothing.

The power was out. You grabbed your jacket and opened the door to the hall. It was pouring outside, lightning flashing every few seconds, accompanied by loud claps of thunder. You stepped out into the hall, pulling your jacket on as you headed for the security room.

Peering in, you were relieved to see that the cameras were on backups. You were about to sit down when you remembered you had left the book in the store room. You hurried back to the room and opened the door, shining your flashlight in. You walked over to the circle but found that the book was not in the center anymore. “What the-?” you whispered as you looked around. You searched between stacks of boxes and on shelves, wondering where the book was when you finally found it.

It was in the back corner, through the maze of boxes and supplies. You sighed and reached down to pick it up. “How did you get all the way over here?” you wondered aloud. You were dusting off the tome when you were aware of another presence in the room. You turned slowly to look behind you where you saw a shadow standing in the corner opposite you.

You gasped, dropping the book to the floor and backed against the wall as the shadow took a step forward. “W-what do you want?” you whimpered. The shadow didn’t move. Suddenly, glowing red eyes appeared and you felt your blood run cold. ‘No,’ you thought. ‘It can’t be.’

“Don’t make me call the cops, buddy,” you warned, pulling your phone out of your pocket. The shadow took another step forward. “I’ll do it!” you yelled, unlocking your phone and getting ready to call the police when a voice spoke. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” it said.

You looked up from your phone at the shadow. With the tiny amount of light from your phone screen you could see more features to the shadow. It was tall. Impossibly tall, almost 6 and half feet. It had what seemed to be massive horns protruding from its skull and curling backwards against its head. You watched as it shifted and heard the sound of hooves against the concrete.

‘This can’t be real,’ you told yourself. The shadow figure tilted its head, looking at you quizzically. "Oh but it is real,” it replied. You gasped. “You can read my thoughts?” you whispered. The shadow figure nodded. “I can do so much more than that, Y/N,” it replied. Your eyes widened. “How do you know my name?” you asked, your voice barely audible over the rain outside.

“I know a great many things, little one,” the figure replied. “I know everything about you; your thoughts, your fears, your… desires,” it added. You stared at the figure, unable to move. “W-what do you want?” you stammered. The shadow figure chuckled in response. “I think a more accurate question is, what do you want?” he asked. You shook your head. “What do you mean?” you asked.

The shadow figure advanced another step. “Let’s not play this game, girl,” it said in a gruff voice. “You summoned me.” You looked down at the book and back up at the figure. “You’re a demon?” you asked incredulously. “Bingo,” the figure replied.

It all made sense to you now. The shadowy presence, the glowing red eyes, the horns, and the hooves. It really was a demon. A demon you had managed to summon. You looked down at the book. What did you want? All you really were doing was playing around with the book. You never thought in a million years that you would actually succeed in summoning a demon.

“I-” you choked out. The demon seemed to know what you were going to say. “You didn’t actually believe you could summon me, did you?” he asked. You nodded. “I didn’t think it was real,” you admitted. The demon chortled. “That explains it,” he said. “You don’t even know what kind of demon I am,” he stated. You shook your head. “No, what kind of demon are you?” you asked.

The figure moved forward and as it stepped into the light coming in through the window, it morphed, changing from a shadowy figure to a man. He was a tall man, nicely filled out with average shoulders. His body was neither too thick nor too thin. He sported a buzz cut and notched eyebrows that on the surface make him seem rough and sort of edgy but his eyes were something else.

While flashing glowing red for a moment, they shifted into a dark brown and they were surprisingly kind. Perhaps deceivingly kind but kind nonetheless. “I’m an incubus,” the demon replied, stopping a few feet from where you stood. You took a moment to look over him further and saw he was wearing a tailored blue suit with a black turtleneck underneath and a simple silver chain.

“W-what’s an incubus?” you asked, your voice shaking. The demon noticed this and his smile widened. “You really don’t know?” he asked, his head tilting to the side. “Did you not read the page you used to summon me?” he added, raising an eyebrow. You shook your head. “Not really,” you admitted.

The demon stared at you, his eyes now wide with concern. “So you just decided to pick a random page and read what was on it?” You shook your head. “No, I didn’t think-” you began but he interrupted you. “You didn’t think it would work, right.” The demon took a step forward.

“Well, shall I tell you what an incubus is?” he inquired, taking another step forward and stopping just before you. Cowering against the wall, you could feel his breath on your face as he looked at you, studying your eyes and expression. “Or,” he added, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a smirk.

“I could just show you?” he suggested. Your heart was hammering in your chest again. “S-show me? How would you show me?” you wondered aloud. The demon’s smirk grew as he leaned in close, his nose inches from yours. “Well first,” he stated. “Let’s set some ground rules.”

He backed away and started pacing slowly in front of you, fixing you with a stare that indicated that he was a predator and you were the prey. “I’m not like other demons,” he started. “I don’t make deals,” he added. “Wait,” you said, stopping him. You bent down to pick up the grimoire and flipped to the page you had been reading from and held it out to show him.

“Is she not making a deal?” you asked. The demon looked down at the paper and snorted. “No,” he remarked. “She’s begging,” he added before continuing. “Begging,” you whispered, looking down at the page. “For what?” you added in an undertone. “May I finish?” the demon requested. You nodded, shutting the book and standing still to listen.

“As I said, I don’t make deals. I don’t have some grand scheme. I don’t want your soul or the blood of your firstborn and I certainly don’t want your firstborn either. Children are nasty and I would rather have a thousand years of punishment in Hell than 18 years of looking after a child. You don’t have children, right?” the demon asked, stopping to look at you to which you shook your head.

“Excellent,” he answered, continuing to pace. “So,” you started before he could speak again. “If you don’t want my soul, what exactly do you want?” you asked, almost dreading the answer. The demon smiled at you and shrugged. “A good time,” he responded. You stared at him, confusion written on your face. “A good time?” you repeated. He nodded. “A good time,” he confirmed.

“And what does that entail?” you inquired. The demon advanced once more on you, reaching up to place his hands against the wall, caging you in between his arms. “You,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “M-me?” you stammered. He nodded. “Just you.”

“And what do you want with me?” you asked, eyelids fluttering as you raised your gaze to meet his. The demon smiled at you, leaning in just a little closer. “I think you know,” he said, his lips grazing your cheekbone. Your heart was beating incredibly fast and your breathing was coming out in pants. “I-I don’t know what you mean,” you mumbled, stumbling over your words.

“Oh, kitten,” the demon breathed. “Don’t play coy with me.” You felt his hand moved, his fingers skimming down your arm and tucking underneath the jacket to grab your waist, pulling you closer as his lips moved along your jawline. “W-what are you… I-I…” your words failed you as you tried to form a coherent sentence. “What was that, kitty?” the demon asked, his voice filled with amusement.

“I don’t think I can do this,” you whimpered, trying to ignore the way the demon’s knee nudged your thighs apart and how his thigh was now pressed against you. “If you can’t,” he said, his breath hot against your skin. “Then I won’t force you,” he added. “But, I won’t be able to go away until you do.”

You moaned as his thigh pressed harder against you. “What’s your name?” you blurted out. The demon chuckled before giving you an answer. “Sungjin.”

“Sungjin?” you repeated, only to be answered by a hum against your neck. “You better make this worth my while,” you warned as his lips moved up your neck to your jaw before he pulled back. “Oh trust me, kitten,” he purred. “I’ll make you beg for more. By the time I’m done with you, you won’t want me to leave.”

A squeal left your lips as Sungjin reached down and lifted you, moving to the closest flat surface before catching your lips in a hurried kiss. You weren’t sure where to move your hands so you settled for gripping the lapels of his suit jacket as he pushed your jacket off you. You slid your arms free of the jacket without breaking the kiss and Sungjin tossed the garment away.

You moaned against his lips as his hands grabbed your thighs, pulling your core against him. “I haven’t even started,” he teased before pushing your skirt up to reveal the short black shorts you wore underneath. “Making me work for it, huh kitten?” he asked. You giggled as he tugged at and pulled the shorts down, tossing them on the ground.

You watched as he eyed you, hunger in his eyes before he looked up, licking his lips. “Lie back,” he ordered. You did as he said, lying back on the old desk he had set you on. Your cheeks flushed as Sungjin pulled you panties down your thighs slowly, maintaining eye contact the entire time before he pulled them past your shoes and tucked them into his pocket.

With your lower half now exposed to him, he wasted no time in leaning over, spreading your thighs and giving you one final look before he buried his face between your legs. You gasped as his tongue flashed out to taste you, one lick before giving you another and another. You tried to contain your moans as the demon licked and sucked at your clit, groaning at the way you tasted.

The sounds were so lewd and felt like something straight out of a porn video but at the same time, it turned you on more to know he was enjoying this as much as you were. You weren’t sure where to put your hands so you settled for gripping the edge of the desk to hold yourself in place as Sungjin continued to taste you, his tongue dipping past your folds and finding your entrance only for a moment before he pulled back. You whined at the loss of contact and propped yourself up to watch as he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

He fixed you with a dazed stare as his hands moved to undo his belt and the zipper of his pants. He didn’t have to say anything, you knew what he wanted. You sat up slowly and slid from the desk, kneeling in front of him as he freed his length from the confines of his pants.

To say you were shocked at the size would be an understatement. You weren’t prepared for just how big his cock was as it stood before you. Not wanting to be rude, you cautiously took it in your hand, marveling at the weight it had. It would be a task taking all of this inside you but you were determined. If he wanted to have a good time, you would show him that.

Glancing up at him quickly, you opened your mouth and gave the head a short kitten lick, tasting the precum that was gathering at the tip. It was surprisingly sweet, perhaps that was a demon thing? You licked again, this time swirling your tongue around the tip. With your lips parted, you took the head of his cock in your mouth, feeling the fullness immediately as your lips stretched around him.

The demon said, nothing, only watched as you slowly bobbed your head, taking as much of him as your mouth would allow you. Using your saliva as lubricant, you started stroking the part of him you couldn’t fit in your mouth, meeting your hand with your lips as you tried to take more of him in your mouth. You looked up at Sungjin, expecting some sort of reaction from him but noticing nothing.

Trying not to get discouraged, you pulled his cock out of your mouth, stroking the entire length before taking him in your mouth again. This time, he reacted. His hands moved, fingers locking in your hair as he held your head still. “Relax your jaw,” he ordered. You did so, relaxing your jaw as much as possible.

“Stay just like that,” he breathed and slowly pulled back to thrust into your mouth. You gagged as the head of his dick hit the back of your throat. He pulled you off him, allowing you to cough and regain your composure. Again, he held your head in place as he guided himself in your mouth, thrusting a little slower and gentler than before. A soft moan escaped his throat.

“Good girl,” he panted, slowly speeding up, attempting to push further into your mouth. You tried to hold back your gags but couldn’t when he hit the back of your throat again. This time, he didn’t pull you off, instead, he continued, thrusting into your mouth. You put your hands on his thighs, bracing yourself as saliva spilled down your chin and onto the floor.

“Just like that,” the demon said softly, his grip in your hair tightening as he forced more of his cock past your lips. You gagged again but he ignored it, pushing further still with each thrust until the tip of his cock pushed past your uvula and into your throat, effectively cutting off your air supply. Your lungs started to burn from lack of oxygen and you started to tap his thigh to get his attention. Sungjin gave a few more thrusts into your throat before pulling you off him and letting go of your hair.

You gasped and coughed, trying to breath normally. “You’re going to kill me,” you accused, looking up to see the demon was removing layers of his clothing. You gulped, ignoring the pain in your throat and watched as he tossed his coat aside before removing his shirt, allowing you to see his toned chest and arms. Something you weren’t expecting.

The demon walked over and held out a hand. You took it cautiously and were surprised when he helped you to your feet. “What are you doing?” you asked as he turned you around to face the desk and reached for the zipper on your dress. He pushed the material down past your hips, letting it fall to the floor before pushing his own pants down and discarding them.

Before you could say anything, he pushed you over, pressing your chest to the cold top of the desk and kept his hand on your back as he took himself in his hand and rubbed the head of his cock between your folds. “You might want to hold onto something,” he warned. Your hands fumbled, grabbing onto the desk as the demon pushed past your folds and into your core.

The stretch stung and burned with you letting out a slew of curses to which Sungjin chuckled as he slowly inched his way in bit by bit. He gave you a few moments in between to adjust before moving again. After a few minutes, he was in as far as he could go. “How does it feel?” he asked, leaning over your back. “Fucking huge,” you whimpered, almost in tears as you waited for the pain and burning to subside. Sungjin laughed lowly, taking that as a compliment.

“Now you know how big a demon cock is,” he added, his hand smoothing over your backside before he delivered a sharp slap to your ass cheek. You let out a whine, fingers clenching the edge of the desk. Your core clenched when he gave you another spank. “Someone’s enjoying this,” he said darkly.

He continued, giving each cheek a total of five slaps, smoothing his hand over the reddening skin in between each spanking. “Please,” you begged, tears filling your eyes. He had been sheathed inside you for nearly ten minutes now without moving and your body needed release. “Please what?” Sungjin asked, leaning over your back. “Please move,” you replied.

“That’s not good enough, kitten,” he murmured. “Maybe I should give you a few more spanks until you know how to use your words,” he suggested, his hand returning to your sore backside. “No, no please!” you begged. “Please, no more!” Sungjin squeezed a handful of your ass, giving it a shake before he released it.

“Then what do you want, kitten?” he asked, politely as if his dick wasn’t six inches deep in your cunt. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you found it hard to say the words that would give you want you wanted. “Ten more spanks it is,” Sungjin said, raising his hand over his head. “No, please!” you whimpered, moving your hand to block his. Sungjin reached down and grabbed your hand then grabbed the other and held your wrists together while he raised his hand.

“I gave you plenty of opportunity to speak, to ask for what you wanted. Until you learn to use your words, we’re going to sit here and I’m going to punish you,” he said. His hand made contact with your ass and you let out a scream, sobbing as he rubbed his hand soothingly over the spot. Leaning over he pressed his lips to your shoulder. “Just nine more, kitten, I know you can take it. Tell me you can take it,” he whispered. You nodded, tears streaming from your eyes and drool falling onto the desktop.

“I c-can take it,” you whimpered. “I p-promise.” Sungjin smiled, standing up to give you the rest of your punishment. “That’s my good girl,” he said. Nine more strikes were given, your ass was more than just red now it was extremely sore and your walls were tight around Sungjin’s cock.

“Now,” he said, rubbing both hands over your swollen backside. “What do you want, kitty cat? Tell me,” he added. “Please,” you breathed, nose running from crying. “Please what?” Sungjin asked. “Please fuck me,” you replied, hoping it would be exactly what he needed to hear to give you what you wanted.

“Of course,” Sungjin said, his hands moving to grip your hips. “What my kitten wants, my kitten gets,” he added. You let out a sigh of relief when you felt him pull back before thrusting back into you sharply. You gasped as he repeated this, controlling his movements very well and giving precise thrusts, just enough to give you friction but not enough to bring you closer to orgasm.

“Please, Sungjin,” you moaned as he slid into you with ease. “Yes?” he asked. “Harder,” you murmured. “As you wish, baby,” he said, thrusting harder into you, the lewd sounds of his movements filling the store room along with the sound of skin hitting skin.

Small grunts left his lips as mewls and soft cries of pleasure left yours with each thrust of his hips. “Oh, you feel so good,” Sungjin panted, one of his hands moving to press down on your lower back. His thrust took a sharper turn as he pounded into you repeatedly. You let out a shrill cry with each thrust and Sungjin leaned over, reaching around you to grab your throat.

“You sound so good like that,” he whispered in your ear. “So subservient and submissive for me.” You let out a choked sob as the pleasure overwhelmed you. “Are you gonna come for me, good girl?” he asked. You nodded, unable to speak. “Of course you are,” he said, his breath fanning over your cheek. “You’re gonna come for me and then I’m gonna come. Where would you like me to come?” he asked.

You shook your head, still unable to speak. “Tell me where you want me to come, pretty girl,” he said, his hand releasing your throat. “I d-don’t,” you squeaked. “You don’t care?” he finished your sentence. You nodded. “So I get to pick?” he asked. You nodded again, a deep moan leaving your lips as you teetered on the edge of your orgasm. “So many choices,” the demon said.

“I could paint a picture all over your back,” he stated standing up straight to run his hands over your back. “Or I could turn you around and come all over that pretty face of yours, maybe force my cum down your throat,” he murmured. A particularly hard snap of his hips was all it took for you to come undone, screaming his name as your body shook, your orgasm taking hold of you.

“But I think I just want to fill you up,” he admitted. “Want to stain your cunt with white,” he grunted as he took your hips and thrust harder into you, chasing his own high. “Do you want that, baby?” he asked. “Want me to fill you up until it spills out of you and leaves a mess all over the floor?” You nodded quickly as your second orgasm approached rapidly.

“Then that’s what I’ll do,” Sungjin said, ramming into you from behind, the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room along with your cries as a second high hit you. Not long after, a third orgasm took over your body, your walls convulsing and spasming. The tightening around his cock is what drove Sungjin to explode, coming inside you with a loud groan as he filled you up.

You were surprised by the amount of cum that managed to fill you. A dull ache in your lower abdomen as the demon continued to pump his load inside you. “It’s too much,” you whimpered, unable to take the feeling anymore. “It’s okay,” Sungjin said, smoothing his hands over your backside. “You can take it,” he added. “You’re such a good girl. Only good girls take the whole load. Bad girls back out,” you let out a moan as Sungjin used his still hard cock to fuck his cum into you.

“You want to be a good girl, right?” he asked sweetly. You nodded. “Yes,” you whimpered. “Then you have to take all of it,” he replied. “You understand, kitten?” he asked. You nodded. “I understand,” you answered. “I have to take all of it.” Sungjin leaned over, his hand stroking your head. “That’s my good girl,” he added as your eyelids started to grow heavy.

You found it harder and harder to keep them open and before you could say anything, you were out.

You woke with a start, sitting up in your bed and looked around the room. ‘What the?’ you wondered. Grabbing your phone, you checked the time. It was 5 30 in the morning, November 1st. ‘It was all just a dream,’ you told yourself. ‘None of that happened.’ You laughed to yourself and pulled back your sheets, getting out of bed and going into your bathroom to relieve yourself.

As you exited the bathroom and headed into the living room, something caught your eye. A large black book sitting on the coffee table. You inched closed and realized with wide eyes what it was.

Sitting on your coffee table was the Ars Goetia with a little note that said ‘thanks for the fuck, kitten. Hit me up again if you want another go! XO SJ.’

‘It wasn’t a dream at all!’

#day6 scenarios #day6 imagines #day6 reactions #day6 x reader #day6 angst #day6 fluff #day6 smut #park sungjin #day6 sungjin #sungjin imagines #sungjin x reader #sungjin angst #sungjin fluff #sungjin smut #kwanisms #creature feature collab #the summoning - sungjin

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slashscowboyboots · 4 years ago

Text

The Stars Are a Part of Us: Different Speeds (Part 4)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Tag list @izzysdenimjacket @warrendemachokeme @awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands @smokeandmirrorz @sodalitefully @roger-taylors-car @lost-in-the-80s @whisperess33 @shawolat @80snikki @rumoured-whispers

Warnings: Underage sex, drug use, drinking, implied violence. 18+ ONLY

Notes: Track #2 is by the sadly underrated Cowboy Junkies. It was released in '93, and I wondered if I should include in a fic set in 1987, but then I realized this is fiction and there's no rules! Yayyy! It's such a killer song I had to add it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ajtnaiLaJNQ

Checkout was at the ungodly hour of 11, and of course none of the band was anywhere to be found, just Karen perched on a chair in the lobby, still reading her book. Love’s Surrender was the title of it, and Izzy snorted through his nose. Surrendering was probably the last thing this uptight broad ever did.

“Fun night?” she asked, her eyes not leaving her page.

He shrugged. “‘S’all right.”

She lowered her book. “Heard you met Kasey.”

Izzy blinked. “Uh, um, yeah.”

She rolled her eyes, exasperation pulling down her mouth. “Oh, of course you don’t know her name,” she snapped.

“She didn’t know mine either,” he retorted. “She thought I was Axl.”

Karen sighed. “She blew him too.”

“Huh. I thought he was with Velvet.”

Her eyes met his. “Velvet insisted on it.”

Izzy furrowed his eyebrows.

“Hazing ritual. She made Kasey suck him off in front of everyone, then he announced that Velvet was better at it. Velvet always does the local talent dirty.”

Izzy closed his eyes. “Fuck,” he breathed, “you bitches don’t take any prisoners.”

She gave him a hard look. “You’re the wildest band in LA. Did you expect angelic whores?”

Izzy frowned, then said, “You’re not just here because of us, are you? You protect her from the other girls too.”

“No. She’s everyone’s little sister, although I’d kill one of them for doing something to her.” She narrowed her eyes at him again. “I’m here because I think I need to be. Cause if I didn’t, I’d be sitting this shindig out. This is definitely my last rodeo.”

“This is your third tour, isn’t it? You were with Def Leppard too.”

Her eyes widened, and Izzy nearly licked his lips in glee. “Steve is Steve Clark. I found out some dirt about you,” he smirked.

“Choose your next words very carefully,” she said in a low voice.

“You were a groupie. Were you running naked through the hallways too?”

She stiffened, eyes widening and her face going pale, and for a second Izzy thought she was going to slap his face. “No, I was trying to keep him from killing himself, you fucking asshole,” she gritted, then slumped down. “I thought a blow job would put you in a better mood. Guess you’re just a dick 24/7.”

“Sissy!” Celestia cried, flopping down on Karen’s lap.

“Hi, Sis. You and your beau doing all right?”

“Yeah,” Celestia answered, centering herself on Karen’s legs. She was taller than Karen, and was nearly crushing her. “Did I tell you he has an anaconda?”

Karen made a face. “Celestia, I don’t need to hear about that.”

Celestia giggled. “No, he has a snake! His name is Clyde. He has some bearded dragons too.”

Karen shifted in her chair. “That’s lovely, Sis. Who’s taking care of them?”

Celestia hung onto Karen’s shoulders. “Uh, he says someone named Yvonne.”

Karen took a deep breath. “Is that his girlfriend?” she asked gently.

“His ex.”

“Uh huh. And she still has custody of his pets?”

Celestia nodded.

“Then she’s not an ex. An ex would’ve poisoned them.”

“You think he still has a girlfriend?” Celestia gasped.

Karen shot another look at Izzy. “I think they all do. Probably a few kids they don’t know about too.”

Celestia leaped off Karen’s lap. “Omigosh! Slaa-ash! Do you have any kids?”

Slash took a sip from a styrofoam cup and pulled his top hat down over his eyes. “I don’t think so,” he muttered, throwing an arm around Celestia.

Izzy shook his head. “You have a really cynical view of the world, don’t you?”

Karen snorted. “I’m never wrong.”

Izzy took a drag from a cigarette. “Actually, you are.”

“Is he still seeing Yvonne?”

“Hell if I know. But I don’t have a girlfriend. Mine got married. And not to me.”

Karen looked down. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. You write a song about a woman, and she dumps yer ass when you’re drying out.”

“Was it ‘Sweet Child of Mine?’”

He shook his head. “I co-wrote the music on that, but no. I wrote ‘Patience’ for her.”

Karen’s eyes widened in amazement. “You wrote ‘Patience?’”

He stood up and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. “Yeah. And you’re wrong about something else too. I’m not a dick 24/7, although you’ll never find that out.”

Izzy leaned over his seat on the bus and looked down at Karen, still engrossed in her book.

“What do you do for fun on the road?” he asked her.

She didn’t look up. “I’m having a love affair with my vibrator.”

“Oh, ha ha, smartass.”

She turned a page. “You think I’m joking. It’s Japanese and has different speeds. I’ll never need a man again.”

Izzy didn’t say anything, but he could feel his eyes getting bigger. Guess you’re not the prude I thought you were.

“Wow, that shut you up,” she chuckled, looking up at him. “Are you bored on the road already?”

He nodded. “I don’t get fucked up anymore, and that took up a lot of time, y’know. I’m not scoring or getting drunk and now I have just…...time.”

“Yeah. Well, I like to read, and being with my sisters. Sometimes, I like to see the towns we’re in, get out of the hotel a little. I like shooting pool. I really like karaoke but I doubt if they have a lot of that here. I’ve seen your itinerary and it wasn’t promising, they’ve got you out in Bumfuck most of the time.” She knitted her eyebrows. “You’re a guitarist, why don’t you play guitar?”

“That’s what I did last night. I don’t know if I can do that every night.”

She cleared her throat. “I’m sure there’s a Kasey in every town. I doubt you’ll be bored for long.”

He shrugged. “That does it for you? Reading all the time?”

She looked up at him. “I rather enjoy being bored. There were many times I was on the verge of a heart attack, and I longed to be bored.”

“Steve kept you hopping, huh?”

She held his eyes for a long time, furious, then dropped her head. “Yeah, he did.” She looked up. “Is that what you want, me to talk about him? Fine. I was in love, he wasn’t, end of story.”

He saw the pain etched in her face, and he let it drop. He lit a cigarette and asked, “You’ve seen our itinerary?”

“Yeah. The record company doesn't have a lot of faith in you, do they?”

He shook his head. “They think we’ll be dead by the end of this week.”

“Those seem like good odds. Where’s your record at?”

“At?”

“The top 100.”

“I dunno, 101 I guess.”

“Is it moving up?”

Izzy blinked.

She sighed. “Okay, how big was your record deal?”

“Two hundred fifty grand.”

She sucked air between her teeth. “You know you have to recoup your costs, right? I’m guessing you have a slew of lawyers and a bunch of court fees too.”

Silence.

“Izzy. Have you talked to MTV?”

He shook his head. “They won’t play our video.”

“You made a video? For how much?”

“$75,000. With Nigel Dick.”

“Ooh, you used a name.”

“That’s bad?”

“Yeah, cause he’s the only one who made money from it.” She lit a cigarette. “Izzy, are you aware you guys are broke?”

“We're getting a per diem.”

“You’re in the hole is what you are. Who are you signed with?”

“Uh, Geffen.”

“Huh. So just one man owns your ass.”

“So what you’re saying is that we’re in debt to the record company?”

“Yeah, big time. I mean, Hoss, if your album tanks, you could be sued.”

He exhaled. “How do you know all this?”

“Because I paid attention when the suits showed up. I knew there had to be a reason for a record exec to leave his wife and kids to hump it all the way out to BFE to talk to the band.” She lit another cigarette. “”Pyromania’ started moving up the charts, and the suits came more and more frequently.”

“Def Leppard are millionaires. I mean, their music sucks, but they made a shitload of money off of it.”

“It took them awhile to make it, though. They had to pay back Mercury, plus they used Marilyn Monroe’s image in the ‘Photograph’ video and it cost them a bundle.” She shook her head. “Your attorney fees will keep you in the red for a while. Especially if you keep playing these podunk towns.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.” Karen took a drag. “Well, maybe the record company is looking out for you. They probably figure you can’t kill yourselves out here in the boonies.”

“IZZY!” Steven shrieked, slapping him on the back. “Howya doin’, brother?”

Izzy smiled. “I’m all right, man. How are you?”

Steven was nearly hopping up and down in his dingy white hi tops. “I’m so excited, man, we’ve got a gig tonight. We’re gonna ROCK Canada, aren’t we, Izz?”

“You bet your ass, Stevie.”

“You!” Steven shouted to Karen. “You, what’s your name? Donna?”

“Karen.”

“Yeaah, Karen. You really should fuck Izzy, girl! He’s cool. Like the coolest brother you could ever have.”

Izzy smirked. “She says she doesn’t need a man, she got a device with different speeds.”

Steven looked horrified, then he grinned. “Well, let him use it on you.”

Karen blinked, and Izzy cleared his throat. “Dude, she’s not into that,” he said.

“Too bad. Fuck, that girl I’m with is insane, man. She ate that girl Kasey out last night for like an hour, man. Then they sucked me off at the same time! I’m living the dream, Izz. I don’t want this tour to ever end.” He hugged Izzy, then went back to his seat and snuggled up to a sleeping Absinthe.

Izzy raised an ornery eyebrow at Karen. “So, different speeds, huh?”

“Absolutely not. And you can’t borrow it either.” Her eyes slid to Steven’s seat. “Coke always make him like that?”

“Yeah, he takes a while to come down. He’s pretty hyper to begin with.”

“Well, you should have a high energy set then.”

Izzy rested his arms on the top of the seat. “You’ve seen us play. What do you think?”

Karen fought a smile. “You don’t suck.”

“Says the woman who traveled with Def Leppard.”

She gave him the middle finger. “Keep it up, Hoss, and I’ll ram my Japanese precious where the sun don’t shine.”

Izzy puckered his lips and made obnoxious kissing noises, then said, “Promises, promises,” and flopped down in his seat.

#hello to all 5 of you reading this #i love you more than you will ever know #izzy stradlin x ofc #izzy stradlin fanfiction #guns n roses x ofc #guns n roses fanfic

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darkhymns-fic · 3 years ago

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Sword Games

Maybe it wasn't proper for her to play games so often, clothes scuffed by the dirt, her palms developing calluses from the toy weapons she and Lloyd used - but even an up-and-coming Chosen can only be a child once.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel Rating: G Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: This was written for Day 1: Childhood Friends of this year’s Colloyd Week! Starting off with my favorite trope :D This fic references a small comment made by Colette in Altamira about how her and Lloyd used to play sword games when they were little, and the image of it just wouldn't leave me.

During a routine prayer at the temple, Colette felt she owed her very life to Lloyd.

"Chosen, please read from the top of the page," spoke one priest, the eldest of the group of four who stood with her in a certain atrium of the temple, which was shadowed due to the thick curtains from the slit windows made in the stone. Martel's symbol was woven onto the fabric, faded with time, yet still the pattern so embedded into Colette's memory. There were few accessories for comfort in the Iselia Chapel, with only the assembled cobblestone at her feet, and the aged daises that had been placed in front of a corridor that led deeper into the temple.

But Colette could barely pay attention to any of that. Her eyes were fixated on the priest who had the bushiest eyebrows she had ever seen on a person! And she had recently met the funny dwarf that had come into town the other day, ruffling her hair with a warm hand.

She stared too long, resulting in a clearing of the throat from the elder. With a start, the eight-year old shook her head and stood up straight. "Yes, Father."

Colette took a breath as she looked at the book of Angels, which was held on a stand in front of her, too big for her small arms to carry. "Our Goddess Martel blesses us with the mana of heaven… When her Chosen prays before the seal of light…"

A sound to the right, one that an acolyte priest to her right noticed, but was unsure. Colette tried to hold back the excitement from her voice.

"The Angels descend to the earth, to lead the Chosen to heaven…"

"What was..?" The same priest wondered aloud, while the man next to him shushed him. Colette could barely pay attention to what she was reading.

“The earth will swallow up the Desians whole with a great roar…”

And once her recitation was answered with a loud yell, perhaps one or two priests that the description of the Oracle had finally come true.

"Sneak attack!"

A boy in red, suspenders holding up his dark shorts, his hair a mess of brown spikes and cow licks, jumped from a stone pillar and swung down two wooden swords that already had nicks along the edges. His shout echoed inside the atrium, bouncing across the walls.

As the flurry of old men scattered at the shout, Colette stood her ground...and reached down to grab a small staff (one of her grandmother's spare walking sticks) that she had hidden underneath the book stand before her lesson.

"Nope!" she yelled back, blocking Lloyd's double sword attack. The feel of it made her arms shake, spiking sudden adrenaline in her as she shoved him away. "Gotta do better than that!"

"No way!" Lloyd jumped back. One of the swords was cracked slightly, yet still he tried to brandish it with a flourish. Though his right hand was bandaged around the center of his palm, covering part of his knuckles, he held onto his weapon with barely a flinch as he rushed towards Colette. "I'm still going to win!"

She laughed as she blocked his attack. There was another satisfying thwack! sound, repeating each time their swords made contact. There was once a time when such play would slightly sting her hands, but she had long grown used to it now, holding her weapons with comfort.

"Chosen! This is preposterous!" The elder priest huffed, calling from the side of the room where he had run off earlier in fright. "And no one of the populace is to be allowed in the temple!"

Colette thought on such words, feeling guilty to have made her mentors so upset... and then rushed toward the direction of the exit. "Then we'll take this outside!"

"Hey, wait up!" Lloyd shouted, grinning with ecstatic glee. He kept waving around his swords, more than once nearly throwing them out of his hands.

"Chosen!" But even as the other priests shouted for her, she kept running, knowing that it was only Lloyd who would follow her all the way.

Down the moss-covered stairs of the temple, out onto the shoreline that she was typically not allowed near, both her and Lloyd continued their sword fights until both of their arms felt like they had been turned to jelly.

"No fair!" Lloyd was shouting as he tried to perfect his new technique on her! One that he had explained to her once of how he would charge up a spin in the air for extra power, but he mostly just stumbled on the sand instead. "You can't use double swords too!"

Colette stuck out her tongue at him. She held out a stick she had found in her backyard that morning and kept hidden in her dress at the side. "I want to use two just like you! I think it looks really cool."

The compliment completely changed Lloyd's tune, a flush on his cheeks. "Well...it is cool! You're right!"

Yet even with her newfound double sword power, neither could outmaneuver the other. The sound of the slamming wood punctured the air, so sharp, mingling with the cries of the seagulls that hovered near the water. Lloyd held his own, spinning and slashing with his swords, and she mimicked him, nearly always tumbling down before she righted herself up.

Until one time she didn't – and slammed her body right into Lloyd until both fell onto the sand in defeat.

"Heeey!" Lloyd whined, his swords falling out of his hands, far from reach. "No tackling!"

But Colette had lost her swords (staff and stick) as well, both of them stuck in the dunes far off to her right. And so with nothing left to hold, she gave herself to fall flat onto the ground, just a few inches from Lloyd who laid down next to her, his hair dusted with so, so much sand. Both of their arms were outstretched, taking in deep breaths of the sea-salt air.

"Sorry…" she said with a pant. Her eyes were directed to the sky, where the sun shone so bright, the waves crashing nearby. "I tripped again."

"You gotta be careful.." Lloyd's voice was gentle, losing the luster from before when exhaustion finally caught up with him. "So, who won this round then?"

"Well, we both dropped our swords at the same time." Colette scrunched her forehead, thinking of the hazy set of rules she and Lloyd had set up for their fight. "Maybe it's a tie!"

"Again?" Lloyd whined, and from her corner of her eyes, she could just barely make out a pout from him. "We need Genis to referee our next battle."

Colette kept taking in big breaths, watching the arc of sea birds fluttering in the air, occasionally blocking out the sun. "I think that would be nice."

"Hm, we'd have to explain the rules to him though." Lloyd was kicking the back of his shoes into the ground, scuffing up sand with each motion. "And he only knows about those ken… k… the kendo-whatever things he always uses instead of swords."

"I didn't know much about swords either." Colette made sure to turn around on her side to face him. "Not until you told me about them."

There was something then in the way he laid there, not too far from her, his face soaking up the sunshine. His arms and legs were already tanned from the outside, in comparison to her pale skin. She just liked noticing that, the small little differences between them. Every morning, her grandmother would painstakingly brush her hair until it was straight and reached down to the middle of her back, while Lloyd’s hair looked as if he had just rolled out of bed. And his clothes would be stained with dirt marks and remnants of grass, while her own would barely get a wrinkle… except for now…

"Yeah… and you're really good with them!" Lloyd grinned at her, the sight of it making her chest tighten in a very strange and new way. Maybe it was the way the sun hit his hair, or how his grin looked different from last week after losing one of his baby teeth.

"Only because you've been teaching me!" Colette gripped the sand between her fingers, letting them sift out again as she relaxed them. "Do you think I could have my own swords someday?"

"Yeah, why not? The only thing you're better at than swords are the frisbees you throw for Noishe".

To Colette, that was the highest compliment anyone had ever given her. She gazed at Lloyd, shuffling just a bit closer to him. There would be sand all over her clean dress, but she didn't care. "Really?"

"Yep!" At that, Lloyd moved until he was flat on his stomach instead, but kept his chin above the sand so that he could keep looking at Colette. "You're really cool, Colette."

Hearing that, Colette looked straight at him, seeing the wind pull at a lock of that messy hair.

"Why do you think that?" she asked, half-afraid of what he'd say. Because I'm the Chosen? It was all anyone ever called her first, her name second. She swallowed, unsure why there was sadness in her suddenly.

"Huh? Well… because you are!" Lloyd laughed, some of the sand getting onto his lips. "You're really funny, and you know about every dog there is… and you're the only one who'll play swords with me." At that last one, his voice had gone softer with half-shame. "Everyone else thinks I'm weird for bringing mine everywhere…"

"But it's not weird! It.. makes you look really cool, too." She shifted her legs in the sand, bare legs tickled by the feel of it. "And you always want to play with me and show me pictures of doggies, and.."

She started to hear herself and clamped up. A priest would tell her when she should trim her words down for the Goddess. The less said, the better, for the Martel didn't want empty words...

"Yeah, why wouldn't I want to play with you?” His laugh tickled her ears. “See, you really are funny when you talk like that, Colette."

It was such moments like these that Colette would keep with her until the day of the Oracle. The feel of the salt on her tongue from the nearby ocean that she wasn't allowed to swim in, the wind tugging at her collar, and the russet brown of Lloyd's eyes, always so warm and wide.

"You know, when you're like this...you look kinda like a turtle." She smiled at the thought, kicking her legs from side to side.

At that, Lloyd looked entirely confused. "Huh? But I'm not a turtle…"

"I meant like one, not that you are one! Because you're on your stomach, and have your head sticking out like they do."

"Why only turtles though?" Lloyd frowned, but she could still see the precious grin held in its shape. "I'm just laying down like Noishe does!"

"No, he lays like this!" Colette rolled onto her back again, holding up both arms and legs. Her dress fluttered in the wind, and in the back of her head, she could hear the word improper and childish echo, but the waves drowned it away, worries for another day. "See?"

"That's only when you're petting him!"

This conversation kept going in all its strange tangents until eventually they exhausted themselves, laughing themselves silly. And because of that, she suddenly wanted to ask him what had been on her mind since the priests handed her the scriptures to memorize.

"Hey, Lloyd?"

Lloyd was now making little sand piles with his hands, showing it off to Colette until her voice stopped him. "Yeah, what is it?"

"Do you think...you'll remember me?" she asked him, looking away. "And what we did today?"

All she did was keep confusing Lloyd, going by the blink of his eyes then. But even with that, Lloyd only did what he always did best - making her feel better without even realizing it.

"I won't ever forget you," Lloyd spoke with the confidence that only a nine-year old could ever have. "We're best friends!"

She knew, even as Lloyd laughed and she soaked in the sounds like a hand clutching her own, that this was a day she was going to remember. Even when eight years later, she'd walk up the stairs to the final seal by herself, she'd remember the splinters of the ‘swords’ on her palms, the grains of sand stuck in her hair.

Her childhood would have been more plain, much lonelier without Lloyd. And she thanked Martel for putting him in her life, if not for anything else.

"Yeah…" she told him, matching her grin to his. "I won't forget you either."

#tales of symphonia #colloyd #lloyd irving #colette brunel #colloydweek2021 #fanfiction #one shot

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haddonfieldhalloween · 5 years ago

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some happy Myers family au headcanons

because I have a weak spot for this and I can’t draw atm my first time writing out my headcanons and working up the guts to post them, hooray me

Laurie is referred to as Cynthia in this since that is her given name in the sibling timeline

Judith' birth is more or less an accident and not at all planned, Peter and Edith Myers were married, sure but hadn't settled in a nice house of their own yet, and weren’t even close to thinking about children (they are in their early twenties after all and living in a small, cheap flat, too many problems of their own to take care of a baby)

they live there for a while after Judith’s birth, because money is hard to come by but they start to eye nice neighbourhoods for the future (Edith really wants to move into a place where everyone knows one another, houses in a row, calm and secure streets)

Judith is a loud baby, she wails when she wants to be picked up and she giggles and giggles when her father hides and reveals his face to her

Edith always feels she's happier with having a child than Peter is, which is not to say that he doesn’t love Judith, but he's gone a lot to work and when he comes home he's often too exhausted to spend time with his daughter

Judith grows up just a little lonely and for a while she wishes, desperately for a sibling

It takes 10 years until Peter and Edith have another child and now they are in their 30s, settled in their jobs and in all honesty, this is probably the time they should've had Judith

They move to Haddonfield before Michael is born and it's all bits the small community that Edith imagined when Judith was born

On the day of Michaels birth, Peter is late. Judith (10 years old with springing blond curls and terribly excited to meet her sibling) calls for him all over the house before she finds him in what is to be Michaels room, setting up a crib he build in the hours he has after his job (He never knew he was a crafty person, but they still have to buy a proper bed in the end, mainly because Michael grows incredibly fast)

Peter and Edith feared Michael to be just as loud as Judith had been so Edith worries terribly when Michael does not make a sound when he’s born He's a very quiet baby, the doctors reassure them that their child is perfectly healthy but Edith catches herself waiting for Michael to cry (he doesn't, not when he falls and scrapes his knees, not when he's refused a piece of candy after dinner, he remains oddly quiet)

Michael doesn't talk a lot, he can but he doesn't, something that does not change all through his life

When Michael is 4, Edith is pregnant again. He doesn't really understand what's going on but he observes carefully and when his Mother holds Laurie (Cynthia, tiny and cooing softly, not a worry in the world), he gets on his tiptoes to see her better

Michael loves his sister right from when she's born and Cynthia will always be the most important to him out of the family (much to Judith’s dismay later in life. she jokes about it and talks it away with the large age difference between her and the others, but she envies their odd but close bond)

Edith and Peter work quite a lot so until Judith is 16 they hire a nanny to take care of their children when they are gone. It happens a little less in Cynthia’s first year after being born but they start working normally again when she turns 2

Judith has a lot better things to do than watch over her 6 year old brother and her baby sister, she’s thinking about her boyfriend, her two best friends, the new film in the cinema and that one set of paint she saw in the store the other day that would be so nice to work with if only her allowance would be a little bigger It’s a lot lot so find more under the read more (because I do not want people to have to scroll past such a long post when they look through the tags)

she's the first to be annoyed by it and try to get something out of it but her parents won't have any of it, it's her duty as the eldest after all

Michael feels like she neglects them when she is on the phone with her boyfriend the entire evening rather than reading a story to Cynthia or watching over him

If she'd at least leave the living room he could watch TV, he’s seen snippets of a horror movie when his father was changing channels one Saturday and has been wanting to get more of that ever since

It doesn't change until one evening, it’s a Halloween night, Michael stands in front of her, in a costume, refusing to take the mask that came with it off, holding out the bag he's dug up from one of the kitchen cabinets, silent demand she go trick or treating with him Judith is ready to tell him off but her boyfriend is quicker and he makes fun of Michael, Judith's weird, crazy little brother. She doesn't let that stand, she's the only one allowed to be annoyed by her siblings, and no one's going to get away saying something like this Her boyfriend doesn't return after that night, only once attempting to pass her a note in class that she ripped apart right away A bit out of spite and in part to make Michael happy, she takes him out that night. With Cynthia in one arm (she debated leaving her at home, after all Halloween isn't the holiday for a baby, but she also can't leave a 2-year-old alone, what if a murderer gets into their house) and Michael trailing along at her side, they walk the neighbourhood. Much to Judith' surprise, Cynthia coos happily and points at all the funky costumes that people dressed up in, seemingly enjoying herself quite a bit. In one yard, Michael finds one of those fake skeletons and rips of its boney hand (Judith is torn between laughing at the sight of a small clown stealing a plastic hand and telling him not to, it's theft after all) She doesn't really understand why he did such a thing until he gives the hand to Cynthia, who plays with the fingers, childish glee and interest written over her face Their parents find them late that night on the couch, all asleep. Judith in the middle with Michael leaned at her side, candy wrapping on his lap and a full bag of sweets to his feet, and Cynthia on her chest, drooling on Judith' shirt, holding a skeleton hand by the middle finger.

as they grow up and Michael is in school longer, it becomes evident that he doesn't care to make friends, he rather spends his breaks alone than engage with the other children

he isn't stupid, quite the contrary, his teachers attest to the fact that if only he would raise his hand more and participate in class, his grades were to show how talented he truly was

his best subjects are biology and art and these are the classes for which he actually works

Cynthia on the other hand loves learning, she’s way ahead of her classmates and sometimes she peaks into Michaels school books and falls asleep over text that Michael most likely never had even looked at

he just can't be bothered with a lot of things

he likes art however and its one of the things he and Judith have in common, even if their subjects are different (she likes landscapes, impressionism and Michael well...he makes these inexplainable drawings, often dark looking. And he likes making Masks)

Masks are one of Michaels odd little fascinations, earlier in his life he would demand Halloween costumes that came with them but soon enough those masks weren't good enough anymore. They just looked too cheap, or too boring or just not scary enough. So he went to make his own. The first ones were crude, paper mâché and painted with colours stolen from Judith (she grew terribly mad when she saw he’d used her expensive paint for this). But over time they became more and more complex and well crafted Sometimes he would put some on (he has his favourites, particularly one painted white, almost humanly shaped face with dark hair) and simply lay in bed, looking at the ceiling through the eyeholes

Another one of Michaels favourite pastimes became walking the neighbourhood out at night. He never did anything in particular or went any special location. He'd just go outside after nightfall, when most everyone was inside already and wander the streets of Haddonfield. Sometimes he'd stop by a well-lit window and stand just a few seconds watching the people inside, having dinner or sitting on the couch together.

Judith has moved out at age 22, to the city, she's never been too much of a small-town kind of girl, but she comes over almost every weekend It's not like their parents are up to anything special, they don't spend too much time with their children really but Judith likes to sit with Cynthia as she paints her nails and tells her about whatever it is she's learned last in school She can handle Michael better now that she's older, she feels like she understands him better now, even though she feels no one really understand Michael, not even Michael himself They don't do a lot of talking, most of the time she brings a painting she' working on and they sit in Michaels room in silence, both doing art

Michael is just as blond as his sisters when he is young, just as his mother once was, but he's the first one to go brown (Judith follows very slowly, her hair darkens more and more the older she gets)

He's also the tallest in the family, easily (his father claims it because Michaels grandfather was very tall as well). Early on in puberty he simply started growing more and more until at age 15 he had outgrown even his father

Michael doesn't explain himself, it’s a big part of who is: He never feels like other people have to understand why he acts a certain way. He does what he feels is right, what he wants to do and others are presented with his choices, to take them or leave them but never to understand, not by his explanation at least. After years of that, his family has gotten used to it, and accepted it for the most part.

his parents used to take him to therapists, they always felt his behaviour was a little off, but they had given up on it after a while, because Michael had refused to speak to the doctors, often not even allowing to be taken to see them For the most part they meet him once and suggest more sessions to Edith (she takes him every time, Peter has given up after the 3rd therapist), but nothing comes of it Even if Michael is dragged to another session, they cannot get anything out of him. It's hardly any use if your child does not want to be treated, Edith would hear a lot She thinks these people are all idiots but she is overwhelmed by exhaustion and worry until her husbands’ words get to her and she stops making new appointments

that is until Dr. Samuel Loomis comes into the picture Until this day everyone is convinced it's been Cynthia who finally convinced Michael to go by his own will. It's a rocky relationship for sure, Michael is 16 when they first meet and his parents had no knowledge of Michaels visit to the man, Cynthia dragging his hand Loomis is confused alright, at the sight of it but he can't well refuse to see Michael when his sister continuously shakes her head at him telling her he has to talk to their parents first (later, later, she says and when he calls the Myers house after the session, Edith is surprised to hear about what happened. It's a back and forth between Peter and her on whether they should pay for another therapist. Peter is sure Michael will blow it up again but Edith convinces him in the end. They do want the best for their child after all)

It's a hard task, for both Michael and Loomis, and there are hours of Loomis talking with Michael sitting in silence but it seems Loomis has Michaels interest enough for the teen to come in again (true to himself he never explains why, but Cynthia grows more and more certain it’s because in some way Loomis understands Michael in a way nobody does. And while it infuriates Michael it also is oddly calming to him. The world is hard to control and it’s even harder to interact with people that refuse to understand the way he works.)

When Michael is almost 17, his father attempts to teach him how to drive, but like with most things in his life it feels like Michael doesn't really care so Peter feels it's lost on his son It is only a few months later that he asks Cynthia if he should pick her up from a school trip, when she tells him Michael has already offered to drive her home, that he learns his son has a driver's license

Michael is very particular when it comes to contact with others. He doesn't like being close with people, there's something about it that's both uncomfortable and unnecessary to him. He knows he has desires, he knows he feels attractions sometimes, but he doesn't act on it for the most part. It's just too much most of the time.

Michael spends a lot of energy on controlling his emotions (he gets better at it the longer he is in therapy with Loomis, but it'll always remain hard, a challenge in itself that most people cannot understand). It is why he can't bother to indulge in anything like this, it’s not a priority Most people are just, too annoying, too much, they ask so many questions, he can't stand it (relating to other doesn’t come to him very easily)

He knows he's gay, not that he cares much for a word to describe himself (he doesn’t like to be pinned like that, in any way). He never feels the need to come out, tell anyone about it (like all things he doesn't explain any part of him), unlike Cynthia, who tells him she's bisexual one day (behind strong stance and steady voice he notices her fingers shaking, nervous)

Michael shows no intentions of moving out, even past age 18 and one evening when they lay in bed, Edith tells Peter that Michael should get the house. He tells her she's crazy, where are they supposed to go Somewhere warm and nice, Edith says, they are older now after all and Peter has gotten quite a few transferal offers. It's not supposed to happen immediately after all, but think about it, she asks of her husband. He turns around, not fathoming how his wife could suggest something like this (In the end they will move. When Laurie has moved out and they've found a nice new place, they leave Haddonfield and Michael stays in the old house in Lumpkin Lane. He never moves away. It's a constant he needs in his life. One of those things that he can't have change)

Cynthia is the only one allowed to poke fun at Michael. Really, she's the only one that can get away with about anything when it comes to Michael. Neither of them recall how they started but at one point they begin fighting one another. Michael is physically stronger than Cynthia but she is quicker and they both are excellent at reading what the other plans to do so most if not all their fights end up with them equal Cynthia likes the exercise of it, growing stronger as she gets older, and she believes there is some part of Michael that needs this, in a way that she can't understand Once Michael came to a fight wearing one of his masks and only that one time there is something frightening about him, and only this once she walks away with her shirt torn apart and one cut made by a knife he carried (its against the rules and he never brings one again but Cynthia doesn’t forget this moment ever again)

Michael eats whatever he can find first, he hardly has any preferences and often he doesn't care enough to cook himself anything (why put the effort into all of that when some toast and sausage works just as well, or that plate of spaghetti Cynthia has prepared herself). He likes sweet things though, a fact that both Judith and Cynthia know how to use to their advantages (it’s so hard to get Michael to do anything he doesn’t already want to do himself)

As always: Art and Writing/Headcanon requests are open!

#Michael Myers #Halloween #laurie strode #halloween movie #slasher #slashers #slasher movies #slasher headcanons #slasher imagines #michael myers headcanons #michael myers imagine #judith myers #michael myers au #halloween au #The Shape #dbd michael myers #myers family #halloween 1978 #haddonfieldhalloween.txt

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love-killed-the-superstar · 4 years ago

Text

what the hell is this i’m so LATE for the last day of cassunzel week but here, take it

CASSUNZEL WEEK DAY 7 - HOME IS WHERE YOU ARE

Cassandra has been everywhere at this point. She has climbed mountains, drifted for days on the open sea, trudged through deserts and forests, passed through quaint town after quaint town, bustling city after bustling city. Every life is so very different from her own.

Still, after just over six years of walking this earth, nothing quite feels like home when she’s alone. Letters from Rapunzel find her easily, thanks to Owl, scrawled with child-like excitement; they document long days in the palace court and fun little mishaps with their friends in the same chipper tone, all while telling her each time without fail how much she misses her… how much she loves her.

Cass, in return, has done her best to keep Rapunzel in the loop in regards to her travels. There’s a letter sent from the peaks of the Koto mountain range, slightly blood-stained from scraping her hand on a rock during her climb; a postcard reading With Love, From Arendelle! on the cover, with warm regards from Anna and Elsa along with her own; several letters that are more ink prints of various fish she’s caught than anything, with a few words about how good they tasted and a vague grid location of whatever woodland she’s been wandering through between settlements. She’s even sent Rapunzel crude copies of maps she’s made, spinning the tale of how she’s made a small side business out of selling her maps to travellers she meets on her journeys. They don’t sell for all that much, with most travellers being just as broke and starving as she is, but it’s a small, honest living, and it does feel good to have her efforts appreciated.

She never used to be much of a sentimental type, but if Rapunzel is good at anything it’s rubbing off onto others, so for every loving letter that Rapunzel writes to her, she saves it in a small wooden box and sends her own back in return. Cass is pretty bad at writing mushy things to Rapunzel, but she does try to throw in an I-Love-You on occasion. More often than not, she writes what she knows, waxing poetic in her own special love language.

One such letter comes to her tonight, as she winds down for the day and watches the sky darken overhead.

Hey Raps,

It’s been another long day of travelling. Fortunately for me, I mapped out this area the last time I travelled through, so as long as I keep my wits about me I’ll be out of the woods in no time. For now, I’ve made camp. Owl is out hunting, so I will wait until he returns to entrust this letter to him, and Fidella is just outside the cave, grazing. I’m at the mouth, just sheltered enough so that my fire doesn’t blow out, but still with a view of the night sky. I hope you’re looking too.

I often find myself staring up at Polaris these days when the nights are clear, and I’m ever thankful for all those times you’ve taught me what you know about stargazing. I don’t have quite enough time or patience to chart the skies each night, but that’s why I’m grateful for navigational stars like Polaris. I LOVE that it doesn’t move. The other stars will stray from port, but no matter how far they go Polaris is always there like an anchor until they pass by once more. In that sense, I suppose that makes you the Polaris to my own fleeting skies.

Thank you for that. I love you.

Always Yours – Cassandra.

As she awaits Owl’s return, Cass watches that star like she does every night – the star that burns so brightly night after night, as though holding up an oil lamp, waiting in the darkness for something, some one – and hopes that maybe Rapunzel is watching that same sky with matched wonder.

Rapunzel’s reply comes a few days later, and Cass is knee-deep in a river trying her hand at spear-fishing when Owl swoops overhead, a letter clutched in his talons. She hoists herself out from the water and reaches for the letter, uncaring of the mud that squelches uncomfortably between her toes. She wastes no time in tearing open the envelope with that familiar purple royal seal.

Parts of the letter are nearly illegible; Cassandra can only imagine that Rapunzel scrawled it feverishly, so as not to keep Owl away from her for too long. But her reply is as lovestruck as ever, and Cass is unable to hold back her laughter at the adoring response.

My Darling Cassandra,

I’m glad to hear you’re doing well. Your letters have grown a little infrequent lately, I thought maybe you were somewhere new and remote, and perhaps too far away for Owl to fly or for the courier to travel. I’m grateful you wrote to me. I treasure each and every letter you send my way, I hope you know! I scrapbook them so that I can flick through and read them whenever I miss you. They’ve filled up almost an entire journal at this point.

Castle life is as it always is: hard. Everyone is wonderful and I feel like I’m making good strides, but gruelling work is gruelling work, as you perfectly well know. Entertaining allied royals and diplomats is always a treat, but they ask after my absent wife often since you’re rarely back in Corona these days. (I’ve also heard rumours that a few don’t truly believe you exist, because you’ve alluded their notice. Lucky you! They can be very boring. Oh, I know that sounds mean, but we’re just incompatible people! I’m sure they find me boring too!)

Cass laughs aloud at that. Rapunzel may be many things, and they certainly might not enjoy her company, but the notion of Rapunzel being boring, even to people who don’t understand her, is just too ludicrous.

But anyway. Let’s talk about stars.

Your words on Polaris moved me when I read them. Eugene thought I had seen a ghost! I will gladly treat you to another astronomy lesson the next time you come home. I never knew you to be such a poet, Cass, but here you are! I find it hard to pick a favourite star, but now that I know your favourite I’ll have to watch Polaris each night too, and hope you’re also looking. Watching the same sky does make me feel closer to you now. I just wish there was some way to fully bridge that gap. Do you know that I miss you when I climb into bed at night and you’re not at my side, ready to hold me? I’d give anything to have you in my arms right now.

I love you so much. Please be safe, wherever you go next.

With all my love, Rapunzel.

PS. Eugene says hi. Well, he’s actually working right now, but I’m sure if he was here he’d be saying hi.

With a heavy sigh, Cass leans back, bringing the letter up close. It smells faintly of Rapunzel, somehow – a trace of her perfume or something. Just enough that if she shuts her eyes tight, she can pretend her wife is hovering over, a playful smile on her lips, ready to kiss her.

She can’t wait any longer.

“We’re going back to Corona,” Cass tells Owl and Fidella, who seem unsurprised that the change of plan comes so soon after a letter from her sweetheart. “At first light, we’re heading east.”

I’ll be home soon, she thinks to herself, resolutely. Wait for me, just a little longer.

…

A week later, home is in sight. She passes through the Corona gates just as night is about to fall. The guards at the gates are pissed that she’s slipped through at this time of night, grumbling that it makes their life harder having to carry out ID checks by lamplight, but when she says as sweetly as she can that she’s the princess fucking consort and hasn’t posed a threat to the kingdom for many, many years now, they shut up surprisingly fast.

Cassandra feels a little bad for them, in all honesty; she used to be just like them, after all, and they’re only following orders. So she thanks them for their service and crosses over the bridge, choosing to ignore Fidella’s disapproving snort. After all, she’s so damn close.

She rides through the courtyard, nodding towards Stan and Pete and asking breathlessly if they’ve seen Rapunzel this evening. She’ll catch up with them later, but she’s on a mission that leaves no time to stop and smell the roses.

“The princess has already retired to her room for the night,” Stan begins, and Cass gives him her thanks and swiftly rides on, giving a quick wave as she goes. Owl, who has been silently perched on her shoulder the entire time, takes off into the sky and soars upwards, past the balcony of Rapunzel’s room. Cass and Fidella wait at the bottom, watching with bated breath as he disappears from sight.

She feels… disheveled. Maybe she should have freshened up a bit first? But then again, Rapunzel has seen her in just about every state of dirty, sweaty and tired known to mankind, so to pretend that she’s been fresh as a daisy this whole trip would be a little ridiculous.

Cass reaches up to smooth down her hair, self-consciously trace a thumb across the crows feet that have become more noticeable in the last few months, and for a moment she considers turning around and heading towards her old quarters to freshen up.

But then there’s the creaking of a window pane, and suddenly Rapunzel’s face, flung over the edge of the balcony, stares down at her in starry-eyed wonder. Cass stares up at her, a beacon in the fading light.

Ah, Polaris.

“Cassandra, you came back?!”

“I am! Didn’t I tell you?” Cass calls up to her, cocking her head in confusion. “I could have sworn I wrote another letter.”

“No,” Rapunzel says simply. “No, you didn’t.”

“Oh.” A beat of silence, then Cass stretches out her hand towards her. “Hey, come for a ride with me?”

“Are you sure?” Rapunzel asks, craning her neck a little further. “It’s getting late.”

“Hey, it wouldn’t be the first time we snuck out at night, would it?” Cass grins up at her. “Come on, Raps. Let’s go on an adventure.”

Rapunzel matches her grin with equal glee, and nods.

“Okay, okay, yes! Give me a moment to change, I’m in my nightgown.”

She blows a kiss and then turns, disappearing from view. Cass waits patiently, reveling in the silence of the empty courtyard, before seeing another figure peeking over the edge, looking more pasty than usual.

“Oh, look what the cavalry dragged in.”

Cass can’t fight her eye-roll back. “Evening to you too, Fitzherbert. What’s that on your face?”

“It’s an oat facial,” he retorts. “What’s it to you?”

“Well, I’m just glad to hear it’s not mould, because from here…” She waves her hand in an uncertain manner, earning a harsh laugh from him. Her face softens. “How have you been?”

“Oh, just great. I’m training some new recruits and they’re right cocky little shits. You planning on sticking around for a few days? I need someone to scare ‘em straight and you look like you have at least six facial scars at this point. I’ll tell them you were barred from the guard for extreme war crimes.”

“Sure, it’s a better story than choosing not to join after having all of my extreme war crime charges dropped in court because of my quote-unquote ‘emotional issues’.” She clicks her tongue. “So an oat facial won’t help my cause, then?”

“Cass, if you want to do facials with me all you have to do is ask, I’ve been dying to set you up with a skincare routine for years.”

“I’ll pass, but thanks for the consideration,” she says dryly.

“Rapunzel will be down in a second.” Eugene hesitates, and for a moment Cass gets the sinking feeling he’s going to ask to tag along on their would-be date, but then he adds, “You’ll keep each other safe?”

Cass cracks a smile.

“We can handle ourselves,” she promises. “I’ll be sure to get her back in one piece.”

“You’d better, because I can’t be waiting up for you two, I have morning drills at five and I need my damn beauty rest.”

“Well, I won’t keep you,” Cass says cheerily. “I only came for my wife.”

“Our wife.”

“Details, details.”

Cass hears the heavy creak of the main doors opening and closing, and turns her head to see Rapunzel approaching. In terms of physical appearance, she looks marginally the same as always, but Cassandra is pleasantly surprised by the fact that she’s donned a pair of riding trousers for their big adventure, though has still foregone any shoes. They suit her, Cass muses. She finds her gaze lingering on Rapunzel’s legs a little longer than she should, but then Rapunzel is right in front of her and all thoughts leave her head as they lean down to kiss.

“Hey there, stranger,” Rapunzel whispers, giggling as Cass takes the opportunity to pepper her brow and nose and cheeks with quick kisses.

“Hello to you too, Princess. Here, hop on.”

Rapunzel reaches over to give Fidella a loving pat in greeting, and Cass outstretches her arm to pull her up. Rapunzel hugs her waist once she’s settled down, and Cass shivers happily at the contact.

“You kids have fun now,” Eugene calls, punctuated by a yawn. “I expect no funny business, all right? Make good choices!”

Rapunzel blows him an exaggerated kiss as Cass rolls her eyes, and they take off towards the gates once more. The guards from earlier are perplexed by the sudden appearance of the princess, while being revisited by the grumpy woman they’d only just ushered in; but after taking a brief statement as per safety protocol (“A romantic rendezvous with my wife,” Rapunzel says cheerfully, while Cass simply responds, “We’re going out, what other reason would we have for leaving?”) the gates are opened, and they take off into the night.

With Rapunzel clinging to her, whooping and cheering, Cassandra feels happier than she has in a long time. She encourages Fidella to go faster, faster… the thrill sets her heart aglow, the blood thrumming in her veins.

They soar through the country roads and follow the light of the moon, and Rapunzel is squealing with laughter, uncaring of any attention they may draw from shopkeepers locking up, or drunkards leaving The Snuggly Duckling. They glide past effortlessly, and Rapunzel asks, “Where are we going, anyway?”

“Oh trust me, you’ll know,” Cass calls back. They veer off the roads and into the woodland, heading west for a while. Rapunzel’s laughter dies out once Fidella begins to slow down, weaving through unruly trees. Under the cover of the forest, moonlight barely peeking through the high branches, it becomes increasingly difficult to see. Cass blinks rapidly, eyes trying to adjust to the darkness, thankful Fidella is having an easier time of it than she is.

“You didn’t find another strange cottage with a magic teapot on your travels, did you Cass?” Rapunzel teases. “Because wherever you’re taking us…”

“Trust me, will you?” Cass says again, tilting her head back to fix Rapunzel with a raised eyebrow. “You think I’ve ever gone to someone’s creepy magic shack after what happened out on the road with those bird-brains?”

Rapunzel giggles and leans forward to press a quick kiss to Cassandra’s cheek.

“Sorry, sorry. I trust you! Wherever you’re taking us, I’m sure I’ll love it.”

They ride on in comfortable silence for another few minutes, both happily revelling in each other’s company, until they pass through a pair of old oaks.

“Ah, I see,” Rapunzel sings, squeezing Cassandra’s waist a little tighter. “You’ll go all out on the romantic gestures when it’s the middle of the night, but if I invite you to come home and spend the most romantic Coronan holiday with me…”

“Nice try, but you can never guilt me to join you for the Day of Hearts, Raps,” Cass sing-songs back to her. They follow the path as it grows narrower, and Fidella treads carefully through the gulch, raising their feet to avoid the cold rush of water. The lagoon comes into view, the moon gleaming on the water’s deep indigo surface.

“Oh, it’s beautiful as ever,” breathes Rapunzel. “I haven’t been back here in a long time.”

Cass cocks her head towards her. “You never visit?”

“Not without you. It feels weird.”

“Well fear not, I’m here now!” Cass reaches over to pat Fidella’s head. “Think you can hang back here for a while so Raps and I can have a little… alone time?”

Fidella grunts in reply, and Cass reluctantly pries Rapunzel’s arms from her waist before climbing down and reaching into her travel pack to offer Fidella up an apple.

“Good girl, thank you.”

She helps Rapunzel down and the two of them take off, running through the narrow strip of shoreline. Rapunzel wastes no time in shimmying off her trousers and wading in, while Cass hangs back to take off her boots, pouring sand out of them with a grimace and slipping down her stockings.

“Augh, it’s cold!” squeals Rapunzel. “Not like, horribly cold? Lagoon-cold? But still, it’s cold!!”

Cass laughs at Rapunzel’s shrieks, but still finds herself shivering a little once she slips her tunic off. She takes a few tentative steps in, gasping sharply as the cool water laps around her ankles. Rapunzel, at this point, has slipped off the waistcoat and blouse she’d been wearing, and flings them in the vague direction of the shore. They land, unsuccessfully, in the shallows.

“Oh, well done. You’re lucky I have some spare shirts in my travel pack.”

Rapunzel cheers. “Yes! You know I love wearing your clothes!”

“It’ll be a bit spicy,” Cass warns. “I haven’t had a chance to do laundry in the past week.”

“Eh, I’ll manage.”

Cass plucks the now drenched clothing from the water and tosses it onto shore, before following Rapunzel further into the water. She makes it up just above her waist, shivering and grumbling all the way, when suddenly the sand beneath gives away and she plunges below the surface. For a split second, panic settles in; that primal fear of sinking like a stone and never coming back up that has haunted her since she was a child. Her arms thrash wildly, trying to push herself up to the surface, when a pair of arms wrap around her waist and pull her up.

Cass gasps and splutters, and Rapunzel’s face swims into view.

“Cass! Cass, it’s okay! You’re okay, I’ve got you!”

Gulping a few deep breaths, Cass is pulled in close, and Rapunzel kisses her brow and strokes her soaking wet hair.

“It was just a sand bank that gave away underneath you. You’re okay. You’re treading water without even realising, see?”

Cassandra realises dizzily that Rapunzel has a point. She’s doing okay. She’s not drowning, not even close.

“I… I don’t normally, uh,” she begins, and Rapunzel shushes her.

“I know. It just took you by surprise, huh?” Cass nods numbly, and Rapunzel pulls back a little, hands reaching to cup Cassandra’s face. “I’ve got you,” she says again, quietly, eyes bearing into hers with fierce devotion.

Cass manages to smile, heart still pounding in her chest, her mouth dry. “Yeah. You’ve got me.”

They swim a little further out, with Rapunzel facing her the whole time and offering smiles of encouragement, and when Cass’s heart has calmed down, she leans over to kiss Rapunzel softly.

“Well,” breathes Rapunzel, punctuated with another kiss, “this has been quite the excursion, huh.”

“I aim to please.” Cass kisses her again, humming happily against her mouth. “By the way, those riding pants you were wearing? They really suit you.”

“I had a feeling you’d like them,” Rapunzel grins.

She holds her arms out, and hesitantly, Cass leans back into them. She focuses her centre of gravity and lightly sculls the water with cupped hands to keep afloat while Rapunzel lays back beside her, arms and legs spread out like a starfish. It’s only once Cass properly looks up at the stunning sky above, stars and light everywhere, that her body grows still and simply floats on the lagoon’s surface.

“What a view,” she murmurs.

“I know it’s the same sky, no matter what,” Rapunzel muses, “but somehow the stars look even prettier here in the lagoon, don’t they?”

“Corona is always lit up,” Cass explains, voice tuning in and out as the water laps against her ears. “The sky isn’t as visible in places where a lot of people gather because of the light they produce. You remember how many stars we could see on the road, whenever we spent the night between towns?”

Rapunzel nods. “It was beautiful. I suppose you enjoy views like this all the time, then?”

“When the weather permits,” Cass laughs. “But yeah. Out in nature, it’s much easier to see a full sky of stars.”

“But Polaris is your favourite!”

Cass feels the heat come to her face a little, knowing Rapunzel is about to steer this somewhere overly sentimental. “Yeah. I mean, It’s a key navigational star, so… it’s a pretty obvious pick.”

“I like that,” insists Rapunzel. “The reasoning, it’s… authentically you. I think.”

“Why, because I like things based on how practical they are?”

“Because only you could make a navigational tool sound romantic.”

“Is that a gift or a curse?”

Rapunzel giggles and Cass joins in, their hands lacing together as they stare at the patchwork sky above.

“I love the idea, though,” Rapunzel murmurs, once their laughter dies down. “That I’m your anchorpoint.”

“You’re so much more than that.”

“Oh, I am?” grins Rapunzel, tilting her head towards Cass.

“Don’t ruin it,” Cass says flatly.

“Sorry, sorry. Please, tell me?”

Cassandra stares up at the northern star, twinkling bright, and exhales. “Rapunzel, when I’m coming back to visit and I’m riding through Corona, all that I really feel is that I’m in Corona. It might as well be any other place. Sure, I’m more familiar with each side street and stray cobble, but… there’s no real, you know, connection there, not after everything that’s happened. But when I turn the corner and lay eyes upon your face, that – that’s the moment I think to myself, ‘I’m home’.”

The world is still, just for a moment, before Rapunzel lets go of her hand and changes to an upright position in the water, reaching up to smooth her soaking hair back. Cass also gives up on floating on her back, already thinking of ways to backtrack if what she said was too embarrassing, even for Rapunzel to bear. But then she notices the way the tips of Rapunzel’s ears are burning.

She turns to face Cass, all red-faced and slicked back hair and wide, longing eyes, and utters, “Cass, I love what you’re saying, but Corona and I are kind of a package deal.”

Cassandra snorts with laughter. “Yes, Raps, I know that. And I do love Corona, in my own way. But my point is that if you were… I don’t know, living life out in the marshes as a bog witch or something, I’d still feel the same way. To me, home is wherever you are.”

“If this is your way of saying you want to go live in a marsh for a while,” Rapunzel begins, a sly gleam in her eye, and Cass reaches over to splash her.

“Shut up! This is why I don’t do schmaltz.”

Rapunzel squeals and splashes back, before swimming over to her and reaching for her waist, pulling her in close. The constellations above don’t compare to the galaxy of freckles dusting Rapunzel’s nose, or the universe in her irises. Cass reaches up to cup her jaw, and Rapunzel shivers when her cold wedding band makes contact with the soft skin of her cheek.

“Cass,” she murmurs, eyes bearing into her own, almost afraid of the answer she’ll find, “do you think you’ll stick around this time?”

“I don’t know,” Cass admits. “I’m not ready to settle down just yet, if that’s what you mean. I’m… I’m getting good at making my own happiness, Rapunzel. Real good.”

Rapunzel nods, offering up a bittersweet smile. “Okay. I understand. I’m proud of you, Cass, I really am.”

Cassandra sees herself as Rapunzel sees her, just for a moment as she catches her brief reflection; an older soul, face marred with scars, eyes tired but kinder. The road has been hers for a fair few years now – the events prior to the eclipse feel like a lifetime ago, out of sight and out of mind. She likes to keep it that way, and perhaps that’s why she never stopped moving, even after the honeymoon, even after her textbook happily ever after.

She isn’t ready to give up that life yet – maybe she never will be – but perhaps she can take a short reprieve from destiny. Maybe staying in one place for a little while, being around Rapunzel, letting Corona get used to the idea that someday she’ll be around for a long time… maybe this is something she can do.

“I know you are,” Cass affirms, offering up a warm smile. “I don’t know if you’ll be so impressed with me once I start sitting in on some of these fancy diplomat dinners as your wife, though. Any training I might have had is long gone by this point.”

Her proposition takes a few moments to really dawn on Rapunzel, who then squeals, launches herself at Cassandra and hones in with a kiss, drinking her in readily as the placid water laps around them. When they part, Rapunzel hugs her tightly, resting her head against the crook of Cassandra’s neck and pressing kiss after gentle kiss to whatever bare skin she can find.

“I never said this earlier,” Rapunzel utters, dithering happily, “but welcome home, Cassandra. Welcome back.”

“It’s good to be back,” Cassandra whispers.

She holds Rapunzel close as they tread water in the quiet of the lagoon, the stars their only witnesses as they enter the next chapter of their happily ever after.

…

(Eugene is unimpressed when they finally stagger into the castle at 4:30, shivering from a night of swimming and Rapunzel in Cassandra’s grubby clothes and barely standing upright from the way that sleep seizes her. He helps Cassandra set her down on the bed, and is about to launch into a speech about how they promised to be safe and responsible in their late night tomfoolery, before catching the goofy smile on Cassandra’s face.

“What’s got you so chipper?” he asks.

“I’m home,” she says with a shrug. “That’s all there is to it.”)

#cassunzel #cassunzel week #tangled #cassunzel week 2020 #writing

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johnhardinsawyer · 4 years ago

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This is Love

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

4 / 18 / 21 – Third Sunday of Easter[1]

1 John 3:16-24

John 10:11-18

“This is Love”[2]

(Loving in Truth and Action)

My family and I recently went on a socially-distanced trip to a town near the ocean. My wife and I were excited about going to the town. But, our almost-four-year-old son was excited about to going to the ocean. Guess whose excitement won out? So, there we were, standing on a windy New England beach at 9:30 on a brisk April morning – jackets zipped up, layers of clothes on top, pants rolled up to our knees, and barefoot in the sand. It was downright chilly, but our son was having a blast. He just loves to dig and dig in the sand and doesn’t seem to mind the cold. My wife and I, knowing that we might only get one shot with experiences like this, decided to go with the flow on the morning in question. So, when my son grabbed my hand and said, “Let’s go in the water, daddy,” guess where I went? I only went in up to my ankles, but the waves were so cold that it felt like the bones in my feet instantly turned into individual ice cubes. I knew it wouldn’t last long, though, and my son’s shrieks of chilly glee warmed my heart as we ran back out of the water. “Well,” I thought to myself in the moment, “This is love.”

“We know love by this,” writes the author of 1 John, “that he laid down his life for us – and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. . . Let us love not in word or speech, but in truth and action.” (1 John 3:16, 18)

She woke up early, just like she used to before the pandemic began. It used to be that early in the morning was all the time she had for herself. This was still the case, but instead of having a few quiet moments to collect her thoughts, she rolled out of bed and turned on the computer, nearby. Her clients and coworkers needed her input and her undivided attention, and she knew that pretty soon, she would have to rouse her kids from bed and get them fed and ready for online school. Single-mom parenting is hard enough, but single-mom parenting, and full-time working and full-time at-home-schooling is so much harder. And yet, kids need to learn and a salary needs to be earned. She finished an e-mail, closed her laptop – hoping she’d find some time to get back to those e-mails later in the day – and she went down the hall to wake her kids up. Before she knocked on their door, she took a deep breath and thought, “This is love.”

“We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us – and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. . . Let us love not in word or speech, but in truth and action.” (1 John 3:16, 18)

It was so hot when he arrived at the detention center – not as hot as it had been the week before out in the desert of the borderlands, but it was still hot. As an immigration and customs enforcement officer, he had seen plenty of children come through the detention center. Some of them were very young. The child he was looking for this morning was four years old. She had been separated from her aunt and cousin after they had made the dangerous journey from Guatemala to the US border. The little girl was alone, now, and would not stop crying for her mother who was already on this side of the border, seeking asylum from some horrific situation down in Guatemala. She had come here for a better life and was hoping that her young daughter would have a better life, too. The authorities were transferring the girl to a foster care home in Michigan for several days, after which the little girl would be released to her mother. But it was hard for the officer to try to explain all of this to the little girl, even in the most gentle of ways. Why was this job so hard? There were thousands of children like this little girl. Why did he care so much? He wanted the best for his country and he really wanted to help people. God, what on earth was this child’s mother thinking? What on earth was he doing with his own life? And then, in a moment of clarity, he realized that the answer to both of these complicated questions was the same: “This is love.”[3]

“We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us – and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. . . Let us love not in word or speech, but in truth and action.” (1 John 3:16, 18)

For a whole year – shift after shift at the hospital – she had been intubating patients, holding their hands in fear, and zipping body bags in the ER. And, for a whole year – Sunday after Sunday – she had been waiting to go to church with her children. On the Sunday she finally went, no one – in a room of 200 people – was wearing a face mask, except for her family. After church, she was so infuriated that she wrote:

I’m sorry that the majority of churches I’ve seen are failing their communities. I’m sorry that the Body of Christ is not representing Him well in this area. It’s heart-breaking and so disappointing. Because what the church is saying is, “I don’t care that you buried your husband last month. I don’t care that your grandmother is on her 50th day on the ventilator. I don’t care that the rest of the world is doing a better job serving and protecting their community than the church. I don’t care unless it directly affects me.”[4]

“Just because it hasn’t happened to them, doesn’t mean they shouldn’t care that it happens,” she thought, angrily. And yet, shift after shift, she still kept going back to work at the hospital. Her co-workers all felt the same way she did: physically and emotionally exhausted by the pandemic and the sick irony of some of their dying patients not believing that Covid-19 was still killing people. And yet, as she donned two face masks, a gown, two pairs of gloves, and a face shield to walk into another patient’s room, she repeated the same phrase that had kept her going all these months: “This is love.”[5]

“We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us – and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. . . Let us love not in word or speech, but in truth and action.” (1 John 3:16, 18)

Years ago, my daddy worked with a man named Gordon Davis. One of the first things that I learned about Gordon, was that his brother, Rodney, had died in Vietnam in 1967. Sergeant Rodney Maxwell Davis and his unit of Marines were attacked by the enemy and were pinned down by mortars and heavy gunfire. Sergeant Davis crawled from man to man to encourage them. But an enemy hand grenade fell in the trenches his men were fighting from, and without hesitation he threw himself upon the grenade. Sergeant Davis’ Medal of Honor citation describes it in this way:

When an enemy grenade landed in the trench in the midst of his men, Sergeant Davis, realizing the gravity of the situation, and in a final valiant act of complete self-sacrifice, instantly threw himself upon the grenade, absorbing with his own body the full and terrific force of the explosion. Through his extraordinary initiative and inspiring valor in the face of almost certain death, Sergeant Davis saved his comrades from injury and possible loss of life. . .[6]

This is love.

Back in 1967, when Sergeant Davis was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor, his hometown did not allow black people to be buried inside the city limits. So, he was buried in an all-black cemetery, out of town. In 2010, several Marines who were white, including one of the men who had been saved by Sergeant Davis, stopped by the cemetery and were appalled by the state of the rotten wooden monument on his grave. So, they raised money to replace it. This, too, is love.

“We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us – and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. . . Let us love not in word or speech, but in truth and action.” (1 John 3:16, 18)

I don’t know whether you know someone who has laid down their life for you, but chances are, you know someone who has made some kind of sacrifice for you – someone who has laid down part of their life or a whole way of life for you or for someone else. . . This is love. . . The man who visits his wife for hours, every day, even though she cannot remember his name. The woman who gives someone the very thing they need, only to see it squandered, and yet she loves them still. The parent who puts important plans on hold because their child made the playoffs. The woman who lives so simply and frugally for so many years and surprises everyone by leaving a tremendous gift when she dies. The person who says, “Whatever you need. . .” and means it. The veteran of the war in Afghanistan and Iraq, the patient daughter, the loving and dutiful son, the co-worker going the extra mile, the caring Elder or Deacon on the phone, the friend, the stranger, the person who has something to offer and does not withhold it when they see the need is great, whoever it is that is giving themselves, and their time, and energy, and money, and skills, and gifts away because they love. . .

This is love. . . in truth and action.

As the Bible tells us, if we have any doubt as to whether we are loving with enough truth and action, then maybe we could love more. “But if our hearts do not condemn us, we have boldness before God. . .” (1 John 3:21)

So, friends. . . love boldly in truth and action – not with mere words or speech. Talk is cheap. But giving your life by loving in truth and action? This is the most precious gift we can give – a gift modeled after the example set by Jesus Christ, who, in his birth, and life, and ministry, and miracles, and teaching, and death, and resurrection shows us what it means to lay down our lives for others in truth and action.

“We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us – and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. . . Let us love not in word or speech, but in truth and action.” (1 John 3:16, 18)

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

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

[1] The readings for this week have been swapped with the Fourth Sunday of Easter to accommodate a guest preacher next week.

[2] A sermon in the style of Fred R. Craddock.

[3] Imagined, based on the following story: https://www.nbcnews.com/politics/immigration/some-migrants-now-sending-their-kids-across-border-alone-so-n1261249.

[4] S in early March, 2021.

[5] Imagined and expanded, based on S’s story as well as radio interviews with nurses during the pandemic. With gratitude for S and all hospital workers.

[6] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rodney_Maxwell_Davis.

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waitineedaname · 5 years ago

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Mystery Next-Door

my @homestuckss gift for @culturalbloominggirl!! I heard “jaderose” and “small towns” and my brain screamed “CHILDHOOD FRIENDS” so here we are! I hope you like it, and happy holidays <3

also on ao3

Jade Harley was the mystery next-door.

She moved in on a crisp, cloudy November day with a multitude of overstuffed boxes, an older man with a moustache, and a large white dog.

Rose Lalonde was immediately fascinated.

Like any curious six year old, she asked her mother a million and one questions. Who were they? Would their dog eat Jaspers? Why does she live with her grandfather and not her parents?

Her mother, nursing a migraine, answered to the best of her ability. They're the Harleys, hun. I don't think their dog is going to eat Jaspers. I don't know why she lives with her grandpa. Why don't you go play with John and let mommy take a nap?

Rose put on her sneakers -- a point of pride that she could do it herself and John couldn't, even though they were the same age -- and left the house to give her mom some peace and quiet. She did not, however, turn in the direction of the Egbert house at the end of the block. Instead, she turned right and marched right up to the Harleys' front door.

With all the grown-up politeness she could muster, she rang their doorbell and waited. Behind the door, she heard a bright voice yell "I'll get it!" followed by the stomping of a child barreling down the stairs. In an instant, the door opened to reveal a young girl with a mess of dark hair and thick glasses.

"Hello," Rose said, attempting to put on the tone she heard her mother use when she had to be professional. "I'm Rose Lalonde. I live next-door."

The girl's mouth made a tiny "o" then split into a big grin. "Hi Rose! I'm Jade!"

Rose suddenly realized she had not planned this far ahead. "Um. Do you want to come out and play?"

"Yeah!" Jade's glee was evident. She turned to shout inside the house. "Grandpa! I'm going to play outside!"

"Bring Becquerel with you!" came her grandfather's answering shout. Jade giggled and stuck her fingers in her mouth to let out a sharp whistle. Rose blanched as she heard the clacking of claws as the large white dog she'd seen when they moved in came charging at Jade, bowling her to the ground. Jade shrieked with laughter, hugging the dog around its neck as he licked all over her face.

"Bec! No! Sit!" She laughed, eventually squirming out from underneath the dog. "Do you wanna pet him?" She asked, mistaking Rose's wide eyes for excitement instead of mild panic.

"...Does he bite?" Rose asked hesitantly.

"No! He's a very good boy. Right, Bec?" Bec let out a deafening bark in response.

Filled with too much pride and curiosity to back down now, Rose outstretched a hand towards Bec. He sniffed her curiously, then licked her palm, startling a laugh out of her. Rose satisfied herself with a few pets behind his ears, then stepped back.

"Come on." Rose said, gesturing for Jade to follow her. "I'll show you the creek."

The creek was a staple of Rose's childhood. She and John had discovered it just outside their neighborhood on one of their first excursions together. It was just removed enough to give them the giddy feeling of freedom that rowdy children crave, while still being within shouting distance of their parents. It had been their place for years, and from the moment Jade first visited it with Rose, it was her place too.

Jade was incorporated into their group immediately, morphing their duo into a trio with little fuss, and now that they were eight and all thick as thieves, it was hard to remember a time when she wasn't around.

The creek was the site of countless formative moments for the three of them. It was where Jade lost her first baby tooth. It was where John learned what poison ivy was. And it was where Rose realized her first crush.

It was a warm August evening, one of the few left of summer before they'd have to go back to school. Fireflies were lighting up the trees around them, and Jade had decided they should hunt for frogs.

Jade was far better at that kind of thing than John and Rose. Before her, most of their trips to the creek involved pretending to be wizards or Ghostbusters, balancing on the dryer rocks and pretending to blast each other with sticks. Jade was the one to introduce them to a brand new form of playtime found in collecting fireflies in their palms and chasing after lizards until they were out of breath and learning how to climb trees.

As expected, Jade managed to find twice as many frogs as them. Each pocket of her overalls gently cradled a frog, and her hands were slimy from all the ones she'd caught and let free. John had caught two, but they had both jumped out of his hands when he'd squealed with laughter at the cold feeling they left on his palms.

Rose had yet to catch a single one, and quite frankly, she was getting a little frustrated.

“I dunno Rose, I think they must just have something against you.” John teased when the fifth frog in three minutes hopped out of her reach. She sent him a glare, and he grinned at her, full of playful meanness built on a friendship formed in toddlerhood.

“How about I catch one for you?” Jade offered.

“I don’t need a pity frog.” Rose protested, but Jade was already splashing towards one of the banks of the creek. “Really, I don’t mind. Who am I to steal a hapless amphibian from his watery home? If he wants to continue his boring existence behind an algae-ridden rock, that’s his prerogative. In fact, I’m probably better off than you two because I’m not risking infecting my hands with a million frog diseases.”

“‘Bluh, I’m Rose and I read the thesaurus for fun and I think frogs are gross.’” John mimicked, pitching his voice up even though Rose was fairly certain his voice was already higher than hers. She huffed, and both John and Jade snickered. John plopped down in the mud on the side of the creek and started poking around for interesting rocks buried in the muck, and Rose contemplated joining him before Jade cried out in victory a few feet down.

“Got one!” Jade held her loosely clasped hands up and dashed back over to them as quickly as she could without slipping. “Okay, hold your hands like a little cup.” She instructed Rose.

Rose obliged, and Jade slid the frog into Rose’s waiting hands, quickly putting her own hands around Rose’s to guide her in closing her hands just enough to keep the frog from jumping out without crushing it in the process. Rose stared down at the creature peeking out between her thumbs, mystified. It wasn’t necessarily holding the frog that was getting to her, though the feeling of its rapid heartbeat against her palm was exciting. It was the realization that Jade had caught this frog specifically as a gift for her, and it was the feeling of Jade’s warm, dirt-covered hands wrapped around her own. It was looking up at Jade’s face and seeing her proud, buck-toothed grin, and it was the twigs that had inexplicably found their way into Jade’s curls, and it was the fireflies and dusk light painting flickering colors on Jade’s cheeks.

Rose’s heart leaped into her throat, and she suddenly found it harder to breathe.

In the exact same instant, the frog took advantage of her lapse in focus and took a leap of its own. The sudden movement startled Rose, and she yelped, stumbling backwards. Her foot skidded on the stone behind her, and she let out a sharp scream as she fell into the creekbed.

“Rose!” John and Jade shouted in unison, scrambling to help her up. They both took her by the upper arms and helped her to her feet, and she cried out in pain when the bruise rapidly forming on her hip made it hurt to stand. Her elbows were scraped from catching her fall, and the tears filling her eyes made her more pissed off than anything else. She wasn’t a little kid, she shouldn’t be crying about falling over anymore.

“I’ll get her mom!” John said, already sprinting in the direction of their houses, shouting, “Ms. Lalonde, Ms. Lalonde!”

“Do you want me to help you walk?” Jade offered gently. Rose sucked in a breath and willed the tears back into their ducts. She nodded and Jade wrapped her arm around Rose’s shoulders, guiding her out of the creek.

The bruise hurt like the dickens for the rest of the week, and her mother tsked when she saw the grime in her scrapes, but for a reason Rose couldn’t quite fathom, it was all made okay by Jade’s arm wrapped tight around her.

“I dunno Rosie, should I be worried about you goin’ to a sleepover with a boy?”

“Please, mother,” Rose rolled her eyes when she knew her mom couldn’t see them, emptying her backpack onto her bed, “It’s John. He doesn’t count.”

“Hm.” Her mother hummed a vague agreement from where she was leaning against Rose’s door frame. Rose knew her concerns about the sleepover were largely performative; she’d slept over at the Egbert house dozens of times before. “Isn’t that other boy going to be there? David or something?”

“Dave?” Rose scoffed, shoving pajamas into her bag. “As if I’d sink that low.”

“Aw, that’s mean.” She heard her mother sniff, and there was a beat of silence that Rose used to debate whether or not to bring any books. “I guess that just leaves Jade.”

Rose’s head snapped over to look at her for the first time in the conversation. She hadn’t mentioned her crush on Jade once in the four years she’d had it, and her mother hadn’t ever asked about it beyond superficial questions about whether she liked anyone at school. Despite that, there was inexplicably sharp look in her mother’s eyes, like she knew more than she was telling. She lifted her perfectly painted lips in a slight smile, then pushed herself upright off the door frame.

“Make sure to pack a toothbrush, okay sweetie?” She said, already halfway down the hall. Rose stared after her, speechless for a moment, then shook herself out of her stupor. She finished packing in a rush, and left with a farewell shout over her shoulder.

The walk to the Egbert house was one that Rose knew better than any other path, except perhaps the walk from her bedroom to the bathroom. She’d been playing at his house since before she could draw on a definite memory, and she and Jade had been sleeping over since their families had deemed them old enough. The only new player in their routine was Dave, who’d showed up at their middle school in sixth grade and immediately attached to John like glue, which of course meant getting attached to Rose and Jade in the process. The three of them were a package deal, and he was fortunate enough to be the right variety of awkwardly charming to fit right in.

Mr. Egbert was happy to host John’s friends, as always, and he was just as eager to embarrass him as well. As soon as they were all settled, he insisted on pulling out the photo albums under the excuse that it was Dave’s first time staying over, so he had to see them.

“Dad,” John complained, weakly trying to tug the photo album away from his father, “They don’t want to see that, come on. We’re just gonna go upstairs and watch movies, right guys?” He looked at his friends, hoping they’d back him up. He was immediately disappointed.

“I’d love to see baby pictures, thank you Mr. Egbert.” Rose said, smirking at John.

“Yeah, come on dude, Shrek can wait, I gotta catch a peep at these incriminatin’ pics.” Dave added immediately. “Who knows the next time I’ll get to see ‘em. Your whole house could burn down tomorrow, and I’d never have seen the dang things. I could spontaneously go blind in like three minutes and I’d be like ‘god, screw the Mona Lisa and sunsets, the thing I miss the most is being able to see my goober of a friend lookin’ even more like a goober because his brain was the size of a softball and he didn’t have the self awareness to know not to eat his own feet.’ All I’m saying, bro, is you gotta cherish your sight when you’ve still got it, y’feel me?”

“Oh! Mr. Egbert, you should show Dave that picture of John with the shaving cream!” Jade suggested helpfully.

“Yes, you absolutely should show me that one, oh my god, that was the best string of words you could possibly put together.” Dave was all but vibrating with restrained delight. John wailed dramatically and flopped backwards onto the couch.

“You’re all the worst. Sleepover cancelled, you can all go home. I hate you all.” He complained, face buried in his hands.

“We do this because we love you.” Rose said, patting his knee condescendingly. He slid his fingers off half of his glasses to glare at her. She considered laying the condescension on thicker, but she was interrupted by an outburst from Dave’s direction.

“Oh shi- shoot -- sorry Mr. E -- Rose, you’re in one of these.”

“What?” Rose squeezed in between Jade and Dave and discovered, to her horror, a picture of herself and John. Neither of them were any older than three, and they seemed to have raided each other’s dress-up chests. John was wearing an enormous grin and a tutu that Rose vaguely remembered her mother buying her when she was quite young, and Rose had donned a clip-on tie and was drowning in what she could only guess were Mr. Egbert’s shoes. She gaped in horror, and Dave laughed next to her.

“Dude, look at you! Rose Lalonde: Business Toddler.” Dave shoved her playfully, and Rose felt she suddenly understood Cain when she pushed him back hard enough to make him stumble.

"I think you look cute!" Jade said, peering over Rose's shoulder. Embarrassment blended with flattery to create a smoothie of confusion in Rose's brain.

"Are we done?" John complained, still doing his best to merge with the couch cushions. His dad chuckled and nodded, shutting the photo album and waving them off. That was all the encouragement John needed to jump to his feet and practically teleport up the stairs, his friends hot on his heels.

Their attempt to marathon Shrek was mostly an excuse to hang out, and it made a pleasant backdrop to whatever shenaniganry they wanted to get up to that evening, which ranged from breaking out the nail polish Rose had swiped from her mother's stash to a slightly ridiculous game of would-you-rather. The evening passed in a happy rush and before Rose knew it, the moon was high in the sky and they were all snuggled into their sleeping bags.

John was snoring gently, his hands stuck out of the sleeping bag because he'd been worried about smudging Rose's handiwork on his nails. Dave was the quietest any of them had ever heard him and still as a statue. Rose, however, couldn't get comfortable. She rolled and shifted and shoved her arm under her pillow and attempted to curl into a ball. No dice.

She was beginning to consider abandoning her sleeping bag to sleep in John's bed and deal with his bitching in the morning, but Jade's sleepy whisper stopped her.

"Rose?" She mumbled. Rose went still. "Are you still awake?"

"Unfortunately." Rose muttered back. "Sorry if I woke you."

"Mn, it's okay. I wasn't asleep." The grogginess in her voice made Rose suspect she might be lying, but she didn't call her on it. There was shuffling from Jade's direction, and Rose looked up to see Jade crawling out of her bag and grabbing her glasses. "Do you wanna go get some water?"

"...Sure." It wasn't like she was having any success languishing in her sleeping bag. Rose wiggled free of her plasticky cocoon, and the two padded out of the room as quietly as they could manage.

No matter how familiar the house was, Rose found that it always seemed different when all the lights were off and everyone was asleep. Not eerie like her ostentatiously decorated house or Jade's drafty old home -- she doubted the Egbert house could seem anything but homey -- but still strange, like she'd stepped into another dimension just by being up at an odd hour.

They filled up their glasses with water -- Jade laughing when Rose accidentally closed the cabinets loudly and grimaced -- and then Jade was tugging her towards the door.

"Come on. Let's look at the stars!" How could Rose say no to a request like that? Jade chose a spot in the grass with an amusing level of concentration, and she tugged Rose down to sit with her. Rose tried to give her a respectable amount of personal space, but Jade squished against her side immediately. Rose prayed the dim light from the moon hid her blush, but Jade wasn't paying attention, eyes on the sky.

"How much do you know about astronomy?" Jade asked, tone serious despite the contentedness on her face.

"I know the basics of what we learned in science class, and the names of a few constellations. Ursa major and minor, Orion, Sagittarius…" Rose trailed off. "I'm afraid I don't know where they are in the sky, though."

Jade hummed and tucked her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on her Squiddles-patterned pants and smiling up at the sky. "Grandpa bought me an astronomy book for kids for my sixth birthday. I read it all in one day and then insisted we go to the library so I could check out as many books about it as possible. I ended up reading books as big as I was," she said with a laugh. Rose snorted. She could imagine it so clearly: tiny little Jade, nose buried in a book about astrophysics.

"Well?" Rose challenged. "Share your knowledge, o scholar of the cosmos."

Jade giggled and studied the sky for a moment. She pointed first at a string of stars low in the sky. "That's Orion. You can tell by the three stars there, see? That's his belt. And over there is Monoceros, the unicorn."

Rose squinted in the direction Jade's finger pointed, but she couldn't see much other than Orion's belt. "How did the ancient Greeks come up with these names? A unicorn seems like something of a stretch."

Jade shrugged. "I don't know. It must have held some kind of meaning to them." She lifted her chin off her knees and instead laid her head on Rose's shoulder. "I think it's kind of amazing, really. I mean, they are just stars, billions of miles apart, but they looked into the sky and found something important to them. Don't you think that's beautiful?"

Rose took great care in keeping her breath even and not flinching away from how close Jade was. She pretended she was talking about the stars above her and not the ones she spied reflecting off Jade's glasses when she murmured, "Yes, very beautiful."

The soft smile that great on Jade's face made her suspect that maybe she knew what Rose meant anyway.

When they finally climbed the stairs back to the bedroom and whispered their goodnights, Rose fell asleep with stars under her eyelids.

Jade was the girl next-door, and Rose was hopelessly in love with her. It was a horrible cliche, and Rose had long since gone through all the stages of grief upon realizing she’d fallen into the cheesiest romantic trope fathomable. She’d been in the acceptance stage for a long time, if “acceptance” were synonymous with “resigning oneself to pining for years.” But dammit, Rose was sick of pining, and she was sick of trying to hide her crush. As much as she hated to admit it, she needed advice.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. Eight goddamn years?”

Maybe she should’ve gone to someone else for advice.

“You promised you wouldn’t laugh.”

“I’m not laughing.” Dave said, as if his shiteating grin weren’t just as bad. “God, I just need to savor this moment. You always tried to act like I was the mess in our group, but the whole time it’s been you.”

“Oh please, do not act like you aren’t guilty of your own pining.”

“Nuh-uh, nope, we’re not bringing this back around to me. We’re focusing on you bein’ a fucking disaster. Oh my god, you’re a disaster lesbian, how am I just now realizing this.” He leaned on the steering wheel of his car, holding back giggles.

Rose picked up a fry from the center console and hit his forehead with deadly accuracy. “If you continue to mock me without any attempt to help, I swear to every unholy deity ever fathomed by the human mind, I will dump this milkshake on your lap and send a picture to Karkat.”

“What? No, come on, that’s such an overreaction.” He said, leaning out of reach.

“There’s no such thing as an overreaction to you breaking the rules of our Burger King sessions.”

“Our Burger King sess- Bro, what? There have never been any fucking rules. These fast food seshes started ‘cause you got a goddamn coupon and I’m the only chump you know with a car. They just turned into a warped form of cheap therapy because you’re you. I don’t have to solve this.”

Rose took the lid off her milkshake.

“Okay, jesus, I’ll help.” Dave tucked his legs up and leaned even further away.

“Thank you. How gentlemanly.” She calmly slid the lid back on her shake and took a sip from it.

“Yeah, you know me, all kinds of fuckin’ chivalrous. Always opening doors and helping blind ladies cross the street and giving disaster lesbians tips on how to deal with a crush they’ve had for almost a literal decade because clearly I’m the guy that can give advice on how to ask girls out even though I’ve literally never had a girlfriend, like what the hell’s up with that-”

“Dave.”

“Right, got it.” He sobered out of his ramble and grabbed a fistful of fries to eat while he thought. “What exactly are you askin’ me for?”

“Please, Strider. Use your brain. I know that might be a tall order considering the likelihood that it has lain dormant and collecting dust since the last time you used it for anything other than video games and inane comics, but even you must have some modicum of sense buried within your subconscious.”

“Yeah, you’re doing a real great job making me want to help.” She could tell he was rolling his eyes behind his shades, and it took all her willpower not to throw another fry at him. “Look, I say just tell her. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“She could look me dead in the eyes and tell me she hates me with every fiber of her being. She has simply been pretending to like me for the past several years, but unfortunately, she finds my personality draining. In fact, spending any prolonged amount of time with me makes her feel like her soul is developing necrosis, and she has already filed a restraining order. I resign myself to packing my bags and moving to the coldest corner of Alaska to live out the rest of my days in complete isolation, feasting on the flesh of moose who, similarly, I destroy from the inside out by simply existing in close proximity with them.” Rose answered immediately. Dave stared at her blankly.

“That was insane. You do realize how fucking batshit you sound right now, right? Jesus christ, Rose, she’s not going to hate you, she’s Jade. I know you’re like physically incapable of doing so, but take the melodrama down a notch for a second, okay?”

“You asked for the worst.”

“Yeah, and I was expecting shit like ‘rejection,’ but that was way too specific for you to have not thought that exact line of thought before, which, quite frankly, is terrifying.”

Rose shrugged. “It’s not my fault you didn’t know what you were asking for. Really, you should have expected as much.”

“I guess I should’ve, huh. Fucking hell.” He shook his head tiredly and pushed his shades up to rub his eyes. "Alright, I'll tell you what the worst case scenario is. Like you're playin' a dating sim and you've been fucking ruling at this game so far, but then you say one wrong thing and get the bad ending, that's what we're going for. Bad ending in this situation is she just says she doesn't like you like that. It'll probably be awkward for a while, but y'all are best friends, it'll smooth over. And if you don't tell her, you'll just be stuck like this, hoping something'll change even though nothing will. You'll never know what would've happened if you had just gone for it, and I know you, Rose. I know you don't like not knowing shit."

"And how do you suggest I go about this?" She said. What he said made sense, but she wasn't going to let him know that.

“Hell if I know. That’s the extent of my wisdom, take it or leave it.” He shrugged. “Just talk to her, dude. Y’all talk all the time. I’m pretty sure you’ll find a way to bring it up.”

It wasn’t as easy as Dave made it out to be. Maybe if she were someone else, she could just go through with it, but she was Rose Lalonde. It was in her nature to spiral at least three times before arriving at a more convoluted solution.

It was a painful month of pointed looks from Dave before she finally struck up the courage to do something about the feelings she’d be storing tight in her chest for so long. Honestly, what was a measly month compared to the eight years that had already passed?

The day was the special kind of sunny that followed a rainstorm, and Rose found herself wishing she still had the confidence of a six year old as she marched up to the Harleys’ front door. The doorbell’s chime echoed inside the house, and the door opened to reveal a familiar face, though not the one she’d expected.

“Ah! The young Miss Lalonde.” Jade’s grandfather smiled, jolly and charming as ever.

“Hello, Mr. Harley. I was hoping to see Jade.”

“She’s in the garden.” He waved her inside, and she followed him through the winding house. “I thought you kids -- what’s the word -- instant messaged about these things. What with your newfangled cell devices.”

Rose had to bite her tongue to keep herself from calling him out for pretending to be less knowledgeable than he was -- she knew he used to run a technology company, he wasn’t fooling anyone -- but now wasn’t the time. “I wanted to surprise her. What’s the point of living next-door to your best friend if you can’t show up unannounced to disrupt her plans?”

That earned her a hearty guffaw. “Well, who am I to step in between such gestures of best friendship.” His eyes twinkled knowingly. “My little Jadelet talks about you all the time, you know.”

“Does she now.” Rose said, carefully neutral.

“Oh, yes. You should have heard the girl when she was little. It was ‘Rose, Rose, Rose’ all the time.” He winked, then opened the back door for her. “She’s out there.”

Rose thanked him awkwardly, then made her way to the garden. Jade was in the middle of her plot of absolutely mammoth sunflowers, deadheading and inspecting them with a look of concentration on her face. The moment she saw Rose, though, a huge grin broke out on her face.

“Rose!” Jade ran over to her, and Rose was relieved she’d put down the pruning shears before grabbing her in a tight hug.

“Hello Jade.” Rose hugged her back and resisted the urge to bury her face in Jade’s hair and just stay there. “Sorry for coming over without warning.”

“No, it’s okay! I’m almost done gardening anyway. I was planting some bulbs for spring.” She said, guiding Rose over to an empty portion of the massive garden and gesturing to the freshly turned over earth. “We should have some pretty daffodils once March rolls around.”

“Well, I hope you’re not completely done gardening.” Now or never, Lalonde. “I brought something for you.”

Jade’s bright eyes were suddenly focused on her like lasers as Rose pulled out a handful of seed packets from her pocket. “Oh! For me?”

“Yes, well, I saw these and knew you were planning to expand your garden.” She said as though it had been a spur of the moment decision, not the result of meticulous research.

“Ooh, I love peonies! And carnations…” Jade looked at the packets and giggled when she saw the packet of rose seeds. “Rose, you didn’t get this one just because it’s your name, right?”

“Lies and slander. I’ll have you know I put a lot of thought and consideration into selecting these flowers. If one just so happens to be my namesake, it is purely coincidental.”

“Uh-huh.” Jade laughed. “I guess I should just be glad you didn’t get me a jade plant or something.”

“The thought did cross my mind.” Rose said, lips quirking when Jade snorted. “No, I really did put some thought into this. How much do you know about plant meanings?”

“A little! Why? Are you getting into plant meanings?” Jade asked curiously.

“Weren’t you and John the ones who said I needed a new hobby?”

“Well, I guess this is an improvement from trying to summon demons in the band room.” Jade teased.

“It would not have been the first demon that school has seen.” That made Jade snicker, and Rose took the moment to take the seed packets back. “According to ancient Greek folklore, peonies represent compassion. Carnations symbolize love. And roses, as many know, are for romance.”

Rose refused to look up at Jade while she spoke, instead pretending to inspect the planting instructions on the back of the peony packet. Jade was silent beside her, then slowly took the seed packets from Rose’s hands. “And… you’re giving them to me? With the meanings in mind?”

“I also had your garden in mind. I know you’ve been aiming to plant more flowers around the perimeter, and-” Rose deflected, but she was cut off by a sudden kiss on her cheek. Her eyes were the size of dinner plates when she turned to stare at Jade. Jade’s grin was a mile wide.

“This was a really sweet gift, thank you, Rose.”

“Yes. Well.” Rose’s brain was short circuiting. Jade laughed softly and took Rose’s hand.

“I, uh. I kind of suspected you liked me? But I never knew for sure, so I was just gonna wait until you made it clear.” She squeezed Rose’s hand. “I’ve liked you for a really long time, you know, but I didn’t want to mess things up!”

“You have no idea how much I understand that.” Rose breathed out a sigh of relief. “Jade Harley, my friend of ten years, crush of eight, would you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?”

“I would love that.” Jade grinned, then blinked as what she said registered. “Wait, how long?”

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s plant these peonies.”

Jade was the girl next-door, no longer a mystery, but Rose was just as enamored as she had been that very first day.

#homestuckss #hsss2019 #culturalbloominggirl #rose lalonde #jade harley #jaderose #john egbert #dave strider #3/4 of the guardians too #homestuck #okay to reblog #my writing #I've never really written jade before so!! I hope this works lksjdlksjf

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jonghostation · 6 years ago

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Knight!Jongho AU

- Born a lowly farm peasant

- His immense strength was already seen from a young age, he would lift heavy wheels from broken carriages so he could play with them.

- And the townspeople were amazed at the talent he had, suggesting that he becomes a knight when he is older to protect the kingdom.

- Little Jongho dreamed of becoming a knight. Shining in their armor as they become the kingdom’s hero.

- From the age of 10, he’d take on any task of manual labor that requires heavy lifting and when he got to his teen years, he’d go to the barn and workout with makeshift dumbbells and barbell.

- Before long, Jongho could smash literally anything with his bare hands.

- His favorite were apples *ahem*.

- At 15 years old, he became the talk of the town and was dubbed,” Bear of Goliath” by the townspeople.

- His popularity and tales of his strength reached all the way to the royal court, who were interested in his talents.

- One day, Jongho’s parents were approached by the leader of the Order of The Light, the most decorated knighthood in all of the land, as he offered to train Jongho into becoming a knight.

- It took some convincing, but eventually Jongho’s parents were willing enough to let their only son go; For the good of their country.

- On the following week, Jongho had his things packed and left his family behind along with their countryside home.

- As he settled in, Jongho's mentor, the aformentioned leader of the Order, told him that he should start right away in order for him to catch up with the other trainees.

- They entered the training grounds, already filled with sounds of metal clashing and voices grunting. Jongho was admittedly intimidated by the atmosphere, feeling unusually small amongst the burly, older men.

- Jongho looked around in awe, growing more and more excited by the minute. He turned to his mentor and said,” Sir, I won’t let you down.”

- “Good” replied the knight commander,”Because you, my child, are an asset to this kingdom’s power.” Jongho nodded before walking ahead to an available dummy.

- He picked up a nearby wooden sword and held a gaze full of fiery determination,”Let’s do this.” He muttered to himself as he readied the sword in his rugged hands and started training.

- Years went by in the speed of a pin drop, and Jongho grew up tremendously. No longer was he the easily excited, temperamental child but more of a hardened, refined man.

- His mentor trained him really well, almost too well if you ask him. The boy became so good at fighting, he managed to disarm the compound’s best swordsman for a split second in a sparring match.

- Soon after Jongho turned 20, he was deemed ready. He came into the throne room with a majestic stride, kneeling before the King and was officially knighted.

- For the next few years, Jongho gained the respect and popularity of kingdoms worldwide. He had been known for his incredible agility and immense power, as no one could defeat him in the battles he’s faced.

- The King came to favor Jongho for his contributions to the court that he rewarded the latter his own private quarters at the castle along with all the luxuries he could ask for, something no knight had ever been given.

- Jongho couldn’t accept the gift at first, but the King insisted as it was already made, so the ever-so-serious knight had to oblige hesitantly.

- He wasn’t used to live in such wealth, so he didn’t know how to act when he entered the lavish room. Looking around at the expensive decorations and most of all, the giant soft bed, he felt a little embarrassed.

- ” Is it too much?” a female voice suddenly called out, causing Jongho to snap his head around and start to sheath his sword out on instinct.

- When he saw who it was, however, he froze. Standing before him with hands laced together was the youngest princess of the family; The King’s daughter.

- Jongho immediately got down on one knee and placed a hand on his chest as he greeted,” Your Highness! My deepest apologies, I did not mean to sheath my sword in your presence.” The whole time, he was looking down on the ground, avoiding any eye contact out of shame.

- The princess Y/N subsequently waved her hands around in dismissal of his apology,” No, no, it’s perfectly alright, please. Stand”.

- And with that order, Jongho rushed to stand up, a bit too rushed actually. He stumbled, which he then realised was quite unusual for him.

- The gentle princess only giggled softly at him before curtsying. She apologized, maintaining a soft and elegant voice,” It seems that I have frightened you, Jongho the Knight. Forgive me, instead.” Smiling at him as she returns to standing.

- The powerful and unfazed knight who was considered hard as stone, turned into a pulp at the face of this tenderly fragile creature. Her unrelenting kindness and smile had Jongho hardly trying to keep collected.

- He then finally managed to look into the princess’ eyes as he started with,”Uhm, to answer your previous question, Your Highness, I believe it would be honest for me to say that this...environment is not something I’m quite used to.”

- “ Ahh, I understand completely.” Princess Y/N nodded,”Quite different from your quarters at the garrison, isn’t it?” She asked intently.

- Jongho nodded in response, leading the princess to say,” Well, if that is the case, you are free to alter this room as much as you’d like. I’m sure my father would allow it, you are his favourite knight after all.” She smiled with a hint of cheekiness, causing Jongho’s lips to tug at its corners.

- “ I’m not particularly sure how to respond to your words, Fair Princess.” Jongho awkwardly rubbed the nape of his neck .

- The princess giggled once again, in absolute glee. stepped closer to the knight, whose legs suddenly froze in place with only his upper body making an effort to back away.

- As she stopped only centimetres from Jongho, she gave him a gaze that he swore could bear all of the benevolence and love for the entire kingdom.

- She did nothing but whisper ,” A simple thank you would suffice greatly, Jongho.”

- The knight’s eyes widened at the simple request. This elegant woman of royalty who had been given everything since her birth, only asks for words of gratitude for a gift as luxurious as one’s own quarters?

- Nevertheless, Jongho stammered,” Th-Thank you ever so k-kindly, Your Highness.” in obligation to orders of his master’s daughter. And possibly, some admirable love?

- The princess suddenly vocalised,” Forgive me if my next request deems too great.”

- Jongho shook his head furiously,” No, please, it is my duty to indulge in your wishes. Anything within my power.” He placed a palm on his chest.

- Princess Y/N’s expression brightened, so she appealed,” May I request your presence more often? Father said that my guards are a little lacking in competence, so someone of your cadence should be able to protect me.”

- A little too quickly, Jongho blurted,” Yes of course, Your Highness!” As he realised how overzealous he sounded, he cleared his throat before reverting to a calmer tone,” I mean, it would be my greatest pleasure to protect you.”

- The princess interjected,” I do hope it won’t disturb your other knightly duties as well. I will try my best to call whenever absolutely necessary.”

- The great knight shook his head again,” Your needs are a priority to knights such as myself, Princess. You have been too kind to think so.”

- She covered her lips to hide her bashful giggle,” Well then, it’s settled. I must take my leave now, before my governess finds my whereabouts. Till soon, Jongho the Knight.” She curtsied once more, with Jongho responding with a deep bow, and left the room.

- After her presence is no longer within earshot, Jongho facepalmed with both hands. He felt dizzy. There was too much distorted warmth inside his stomach, he had to sit down.

- What in the King’s name was he feeling?

- After that encounter, Jongho would then escort the Princess, on her request, to important events in neighbouring kingdoms. And within every one of them, Jongho would instinctively hold out his arm for the princess to hold.

- At first, he thought that it was a necessary action when she gets out of carriages or treading along an uneven path. But then he started to do more frequently than so. Almost as if he genuinely wants her to take it. However unsure he felt about it, the princess didn’t seem to mind it at all, which relieved him.

- However, one day, something happened.Something that sealed his resolve towards Princess Y/N

- At a royal ball, Jongho was standing at a corner close enough to keep his eye on the princess while she mingled politely with other nobles when all of a sudden, the rope that held the chandelier snapped, dropping it from the high ceiling.

- The knight flew into action, running over to the princess and instinctively carried her bridal style as he maintained lightning speed to get her out of the way just when the chandelier hit the ground and shattered to pieces.

- Thank the Lord, Jongho was able to transport Princess Y/N somewhere far from the damage, putting her down gently.

- The latter was numb from shock, she didn’t even realise she was breathing heavily as she grasped onto Jongho’s arms tightly.

- Not wanting her in distress, Jongho could only think of one thing to do, and without a second thought, he acted upon it.

- He raised his hand towards the princess’ face and stroked it with a gentle touch, before he leaned forward and made contact with her forehead.

- He then whispered in console,” It’s okay, Y/N. I am here.”

- The princess looked up at him, and as they lock eyes, he continued with a newfound resolve,” As long as I am here, I can promise that no harm will ever come to you.”

- “You have my undying loyalty, Y/N.”

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spiltscribbles · 6 years ago

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All The Lights Are Sparkling For You | Part I

~*~

“So a sixteen ounce almond latte with a pump of lavender and honey?” The barista chortles, flipping her pretty ginger hair and batting her lashes.

“Precisely gorgeous,” Kit says with a smile that makes her flush.

“Cool, that’ll be right up.”

“Brilliant!” Kit gives two quick wraps of his knuckles against the countertop before pivoting around and sliding into the seat across from Ty, pretending as if his chest doesn’t seize at the sight of his insanely intense sea glass eyes and the pedal soft curve of his cheek.

“She likes you,” he says in that stripped down way of his before taking a bite of his sub, a bit of mayo getting on his cupids bow, and thanking Kit when he passes over a napkin.

“You flatter me Tiberius,” Kit snorts before snatching the other half and eating it himself, only partially curious of how much it might look like a date from the outside, and entirely ignoring how much he wouldn’t mind if it was.

“Everyone likes you,” Ty shrugs, blasé.

“They tell me it’s the smile.”

That makes it so Ty lets out a breathy, little laugh, and Kit can’t help but liken it to the most beautiful instrument. He’s always so proud whenever he can make it so Ty’s eyes go incandescent and there’s the slightest dimple right on the apple of his cheek, when Ty looks effortlessly beautiful and happy to be here.

Kit knows that this sleepy Oregon town on the coast is as far away from LA— where Ty was brought up— as anything could be. He knows that Ty choosing to go here for University was a way for him to strike out on his own, apart from the huge Blackthorn clan that Kit’s only ever seen pictures of, but has been exceedingly jealous of ever since. Kit knows that Ty has never really fit into his own skin here, that if it wasn’t for Kit’s constant insistence that they spend days on days together at the start of their freshman year that Ty would’ve been perfectly content keeping to hisself for the four years he’s here until he could go back home. But still, Kit also knows that they were meant to be in each others lives, in some major capacity.

He thinks back to his mother— her pale gold hair and the twinkle in her eyes— She use to always croon that the stars were set out for us, that kismet and providence would lead us to the people we’re meant to be. Kit was a little boy then, one who was to busy making a ruckus wherever he went to spare any of his time to understanding what she meant with those sort of proclamations. Even now, so many years divorced from her death, Kit doesn’t think any of his decisions were chosen before he ever knew the options, but a small part of him does like the idea that some peoples stars were lined up in the exact right breath that they were destined to cross paths and to create an entirely knew one for just the pair of them. One that was glowing and glimmering and perfect.

Kit’s sure that Ty’s one of those people— maybe the only person save for Tessa and Jem— And if he could make Ty even slightly happier than he was, then Kit considers it a job well done.

“Order up,” the barista from before chimes as she slides across the coffee and a slice of the lemon loaf. “On the house handsome,” she winks before strutting back to her post.

“I’ll take that,” Ty says before plucking the dessert from Kit’s non suspecting hand.

“Rude.”

“Life can be like that,” Ty just reasons before picking up his chirping phone, face grimacing at the sight of the text.

“Everything’s okay?” Kit asks, tentative.

“’s just Livvy.”

Kit can feel his face scrunch up in confusion. Every time Ty even alludes to his twin sister— a pixie sized, beautiful brunette with eyes that are a mirror of Ty’s own— he’s only ever beaming with light and glee and it’s probably the only times Kit looks at Ty and he seems totally whole.

“Is she alright?”

“Wonderful.” Ty intones, tossing the device to the side and sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, delicate hands beginning to tap and flutter around the table in a nervous sort of tension.

Kit’s becoming even more nervous than before.

“Don’t leave me in suspense Tiberius, what’s going on?”

“Nothing… Erm ah, nothing really.” Kit levels him with his patented are you shitting me grimace. “It’s just, my older brother…”

“Mark or Julian?”

“Julian, he’s getting married.” The locomotive sized weight on Kit’s chest suddenly dissipated and he swats Ty on the forearm.

“Hey! What’s with the frown you ass! That’s great news! It’s with that pretty blonde right? Emma?”

Ty nods, still impossibly glum looking.

“Ok Tiberius, I’m really confused to the whole woe with me thing you’ve got going on right now.”

“Livvy’s designated herself the head wedding planner.”

“Alright… and the problem?”

“I just know that Dru’s bringing her boyfriend Jamie, and Helen’s bringing her wife Aline, and of course Mark’s got his Kieran and Christina-“

“Okay man, i’m seriously not following any of this but we’re going back to the bit where Mark’s got two partners apparently? Which I personally find unfair and a bit elitist.”

Ty ignores him and just continues rattling off these names that Kit only slightly recognizes.

“Magnus and Alec are gonna be there and like just stand around being better than everyone! And Jace and Clary! Definitely Isabell and Simon too!”

“Am I having a stroke? Ty as my best friend you’re obligated to tell me if I’m having a stroke.”

“You know this’s all just a big ploy by Livvy, right?” Ty charges, mouth curled.

“This wedding… The one between your brother Julian and his long time girlfriend Emma, is a ploy? A ploy by Livvy?”

“She’s worried about me! She’s always worried about me! She thinks that I’m sequestering myself here, was mad when I came home over the summer and told her I hadn’t gone out with anyone all year.”

Kit spreads out his hands, very narrowly misses toppling over his drink. “Sisters am I right?… Actually am I right, I was an only child growing up and Nian has only just begun learning her shapes so I doubt she’d be much of a comparison.”

Ty’s expression goes very, very flat.

“You’re so ridiculous.”

“And you’re so serious.”

“Look, I know Livvy, okay. This’s just part of her grand plan to finally pair me up with someone!”

“A grand plan… Kit repeats, slow and confused.

“She’s worried about me, she thinks that everyone needs like a boyfriend or girlfriend or whatever to be happy.”

“I see.”

“She’s gonna try and pair me up with like somebody I don’t even know for the entire wedding! Like some way worse version of a blind date. Just you watch!”

“Aren’t weddings like only a few hours?”

“Not in Blackthorn standards,” Ty bristles, begins to spin his phone with the pop socket Kit had gotten him a couple weeks ago because it had his initials and it was a cheap version of getting something actually monogrammed, which in all his dorkitude Ty actually loves to have, has got all his pencils imprinted with his first and last names, and middle initial. It’d all be infuriating if it wasn’t so cute.

“Yo man I’m sorry, but Livvy’s got your best interest at heart, you know that.”

“I know,” Ty sighs, runs a hand through his dark hair . “I just wish she didn’t feel like responsible for me all the time.”

Kit purses his lip in discomfort, suddenly feels an intense kinship with Ty’s twin whom he’s never met. He’d like to tell Ty that it’s not a feeling of responsibility but a gesture of love. She wants to make sure he’s taken care of because her heart wouldn’t feel complete if she wasn’t doing that. Kit wants to tell him it’s not because he’s a weight on her shoulders but because he’s the first person to look at him and make Kit feel like he’s being seen. The first person to touch him softly instead of automatically assuming he’s been cut from metal and steel and brimstone. The first person to have caught and effortlessly kept Kit’s attention, the only one who’s ever made it so Kit’s skin feels like it’s been lit on fire with every surreptitious glance.

Oh, erm— Ah, but that’s all completely from livvi’s hypothetic perspective, not from Kit’s. Not at all, not even slightly.

“Mmm,” Kit clears his throat, trying to clear his head of all those sorts of thoughts, less he risk the best friendship he’s ever known. “Well Livvy obviously just wants to make sure you’re happy, I bet if you just told her that you’ve already found a date for the wedding she won’t bother to try and play matchmaker.”

Kit’s taken aback when he sees an all too familiar gleam in Ty’s gorgeous eyes and his head popping up in sudden, acute excitement.

“Yes! Brilliant! Totally! Watson you’re a genius!”

Kit can’t help but preen, feels a warmth coiling deep inside him at the sparks Ty’s quite literally radiating.

“I’m glad you’ve finally came to the light Tiberius.”

“You’ll come then?”

“Oh, ah, what?”

“To the wedding! You’ll pretend to be my date, in a romantic sense I mean.”

“Ahh,” Kit feels like he’s been succor punched, is especially confused to this parody of what he’s been privately wishing to hear for over a year now. “Run that by me again?”

“you’re a genius!” Ty crows, fists clenched and smile bright. “It’s not even that large of a leap! You’re the only person I tell them about and I bet if I tell her now that we’ve begun dating she wouldn’t even prod when I bring you to the wedding in January!”

Kit still feels very much so out of the loop.

“THey’d probably want you to spend Christmas with us too, would that be alright with you? You guys don’t really celebrate right? Jem’s a Buddhist and you said Tessa is atheist right?”

“Ah… yeah?”

“Oh awesome! I’ll call her and tell her now!” Ty leaps out of his chair, gathers Kit in for a tight hug before scurrying off to a quieter corner of the union to chat with Livvy.

“Wait, what just happened?” is all Kit can manage out, blinking owlish in Ty’s wake.

#Kit and Ty #Ty and Kit #Tiberius Blackthorn #Kit Rook #Kit Herondale #Spilled Ink #The Shadowhunter Chronicles #Will never figure out their ship name lol #spilt ink

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gold-from-straw · 6 years ago

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Enough - ch 3/7

Why Raven told Charles to stay out of her head... This chapter should be a lot less triggery!

Read the whole thing on AO3 here!

“Raven,” he called. “Raven! Where are you? I’ve got amazing news!” He touched his fingers to his temple. Raven?

In my room, Charles, she called back through their link. What is it?

He took the stairs two at a time, dodging his stepbrother by ducking into the library and through the attached study, then out and back into the corridors again. Finally he burst into Raven’s room and tumbled onto her bed, a bright grin stretching his cheeks. He saw his own face in Raven’s thoughts, skin flushed, eyes wide, hair tumbling all over his forehead. He brushed it back and got his fingers caught in the tangles.

Raven raised her eyebrow over one amber eye. “What is it?” she asked with a smirk. “Did David Attenborough reply to your email?”

He made a face at her. “I sent him a letter, Raven, and yes, you know he did.”

“Yeah, because you’ve got it framed, you nerd.”

“I was ten! He was very supportive of my dreams, and I appreciate a well-known public figure encouraging the youth in pursuit of scientific advancement.”

“Whatever. Nerd.”

He shoved her, and she kicked him with about a tenth of her strength, nearly breaking a rib. “Bloody hell, Raven!”

“Shut up, you big baby. What did you come tumbling in here for, anyway?”

His eyes lit up again and he sat cross legged across from her. “You know you’ve been wanting to come to high school, right? And you can’t, because Sharon and Kurt don’t know you live here?”

“Yeah… wait…” I never told you that. How did you know I wanted to--

He rolled his eyes and tapped his temple. Raven fell silent, a slight frown forming. Charles almost bounced up and down on the bed in his excitement. “I’ve worked out a way to make it happen! I’ve been working on neuroscience a lot, there are some incredible resources, did you know you can download full university textbooks for free? And I was doing some experiments, just… just minor ones, harmless, you know? Where I try to influence people’s decisions - just little things at first, like I can reliably make my teacher decide not to set a test, or I can make the driver turn left at the junction into town and take me to the market instead of the mall. Which is all very useful but...!”

He clenched his fists, tried to tone his smile down for the big reveal. Raven was going to be so happy! She’d be able to go to school, make friends, he knew she was so lonely! “I’ve gone further. I’ve learned how to modify memories, too… Raven, you’re now my actual real sister. Kurt and Mother, they think you’re my biological sister, you don’t have to walk around invisible any more. They’ll take you to school, and I’ll make the school administrators think you’re enrolled there officially - you’ll be able to come to school with me and sit next to me in class and I’ll help you with your homework, I’ve already been teaching you everything we know anyway and… I’m so excited!”

He gave in to the impulse to jump up and down on the bed in glee, tucking his fists under his chin, waiting to see the smile break over her face. She’d have to go in shapeshifted, and that would be tiring at first, but she was so talented - she had this favourite face, a pretty blonde girl, everyone was going to absolutely love her, and he’d be able to sit with her at lunch and talk to her all the time and she’d be able to send thought-messages to him when they were bored in class and… and she wasn’t smiling.

“You changed people’s memories? You can make them decide to do things?”

He nodded. Her thoughts were closed off, but vibrating at the edges, a red tint seeping in, and he frowned. What had he done wrong? “Oh, but I wouldn’t make anyone do anything bad. You know that, right? I would never do anything cruel to anyone.”

She stood up, her fists clenched at her side. “How many people did you screw around with, Charles?”

He blinked rapidly, his smile fading. “I don’t… just a few?”

“How many?”

“I don’t know, Raven, maybe ten? All little things, apart from Kurt and Sharon. Oh, and Cain.”

“And you’ll have to change Mrs White’s memories too, won’t you, so she’ll set a place for me at dinner now, right? And Andrew’s, so he doesn’t get confused when two of us get into the car. Oh, and of course, the school administrator’s, and all your teachers, and your classmates, and anyone who’s ever asked if you have a sister.” Her voice rose, louder and angrier, and he reached out for her with his mind, wanting to know what he’d done wrong, how to fix it. What if he does it to me? What if he makes me do something I don’t want? How can I trust him?

“Raven, of course you can trust me! I would never make you--”

She recoiled like he’d struck her. “Did you just… get the hell out of my head, Charles! Stop it!”

“But I don’t…”

“You just made these decisions, and you messed around with people’s heads, with their memories… what if you’d got something wrong? You could have turned them into vegetables!”

“I wouldn’t get it wrong, it’s not how it works--”

“Oh my God, how arrogant can you be? You just know you wouldn’t get it wrong? Why, because you’re Charles Xavier, boy genius, off to Harvard in a couple of years, you know everything. You know what’s best for everyone, you wouldn’t do anything wrong, would you? Huh? Because you’re so perfect? Well I’ve got news for you, Charles, what you do is wrong! Reading everyone’s mind, taking out their secrets and their wishes and just making them happen because you can, how dare you? Normal people don’t do that!”

“Normal people aren’t blue,” he said back, low and hurt and angry.

Her scales fluttered, and her mind turned sharp, like melting, like pain, like fury. “Fuck you.”

He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, Raven, I didn’t--”

“Get out of my head,” she hissed. “Get out and stay out, Charles, I want you to swear to me that you’ll never look in my mind again. Can you do that? Are you even capable of staying out of other people’s business?”

His breath caught in his throat. To stay out of her mind… the only place he’d felt welcome, the only person who knew what he could do and accepted it… he thought he’d been accepted, thought she’d wanted it, but had he been blind? Had he seen only what he wanted to see, someone sharing their thoughts with him, inviting him in, when really he’d never been enough to deserve his place in Raven’s mind.

“Swear to me,” she said, advancing on him, standing over him, her yellow eyes hard, digging into his heart. “Swear you’ll never do that to me.”

“I’ll never change your memories,” he said softly, holding her gaze, begging her with everything he had to believe him. “I’ll never make you do anything.”

“And you’ll stay out of my mind. I don’t want you getting any more ideas like that.”

He closed his eyes and reached out, wishing she would change her mind, wanting to sink into her thoughts and watch the changing colours of her emotions, fluttering, switching, fascinating behind his eyelids. But all he could feel was sharp and hurt and… and afraid. Raven was terrified of him.

He realised he could make her accept him. He could take this memory away, make it so she’d never rejected him, and the thought scared him, too. He nodded, held his muscles under control so that his lip didn’t wobble like a child pushed away. “I swear,” he whispered, and built up an iron band around her mind, a cold, hard barrier that would stop him from reaching out for her even in his dreams.

She stared at him one moment more, then nodded, once, sharp, and left the room. Charles sat there until long after the sun had set, wishing that her things, that her smell, could be a substitute for her bright and changing mind.

Raven started school two grades below him. He sat in his classroom alone, and went to study in Oxford early.

#My writing #Enough #cherik #Charles Xavier #Raven Darkholme #5+1 fic #hurt/comfort #backstory

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the-tales-of-horror · 7 years ago

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The Violet Draught

Original Link By TheDarkGeneral

As my life is almost over, I thought it wise to transcribe my terrible tale to hopefully warn off any who might follow my example. It began, for all intents and purposes, in the far off land of Egypt. If only I had never gone on that trip to begin with, all of this could have been avoided, and I would have lived out my life in peaceful anonymity.

I was a young dilettante with a wealthy father, twenty years old and already convinced I knew exactly what ailed the world. I was resolved to be a painter, partially to irritate my father and partially to itch some artistic ache I thought I had. I was not a bad artist, if you will allow me some slight pride in my juvenile work. But I had no drive, and I had seen nothing and done nothing to fill my work with any genuine emotion. I was a spoiled child drunk on the praise of sycophants and toadies, capable of some basic technique, but nothing more. At the time, I was enamoured with surrealist work, painting fantastic scenes and landscapes that could never exist in reality. My first works had been painted under the effects of hallucinogens, taking drugs until I no longer knew what was real and what was fantasy, and then putting my brush to the easel. My paintings had won me some small acclaim in the small town near New York my father had chosen us to live in, but that was mostly due to the novelty of having a painter. Many of my admirers were yes-men of my fathers, who hoped by showing an interest in me my father would bestow upon them some manner of luxuries.

I apologize, my mind wanders, and the noise makes it difficult to concentrate. I was in Cairo. I had thought a foreign land would excite my mind enough to paint something worthy for the art collectors in New York. Unfortunately, in my immaturity, I mostly found it hot, dirty, and boring. So, wandering through the streets one evening I fell into my usual habits, and vowed to find inspiration.

Through some furtive conversation in back alleys, I eventually found myself at a small nondescript shop in a slum deep in Cairo. It was small, dirty and unimpressive. Opening the door, the inside seemed identical to many of the small oddity shops scattered around the city, filled with worthless pretty junk pawned off to tourists. I was surprised to see the owner was English, since at the time there not many people who lived in Cairo who were not native to the area. After exchanging the usual pleasantries, I expressed my interest in more illicit substances, and with a grave expression, he bid me to follow him to the back rooms. All my usual vices were there, but before I could even voice my interest, the shop owner drew out a dusty purple bottle, and presented it to me.

“This is the Violet Draught” He said, holding the bottle in the palm of of his hand. “You will find nothing more enlightening. It will open your mind to worlds and wonders that you could never even imagine.”

I was transfixed. How could I not be? I took the bottle and opened it. Inside was what appeared to be a thick viscous purple liquid, barely moving when I turned the bottle back and forth. It had no smell whatsoever, but the dust of the bottle and the humidity of the back room.

I bought it on the spot. As I paid for it, I noticed a strange look in the eyes of the British salesman, an almost hungry glee. I paid it no mind, for I was filled with excitement myself about this latest distraction.

I tried it immediately upon returning to my hotel room, setting up my easel and paints in case I would not be able to under the effects of the draught.

Like it looked, the purple liquid was thick, sticky and acrid. It tasted similar to ash, and almost seemed to stick to my throat. I had to swallow more than once to get it all down, and even when I did I could still taste it, and I could still feel it in my throat. Only a few minutes after I finished ingesting the draught, I began hearing things. The first I heard sounded like wind rustling through the trees, and entirely curious feeling as I was still sitting in a hotel room. Then I heard the burble of a stream, and the sound of trees bending. Far off in the distance, I thought I heard something akin to the slithering of many giant snakes, but I quickly attributed it to nothing, as I did not hear it again. To try and better concentrate on these unexpected noises, I closed my eyes. Upon reopening them, my hotel room had vanished, in its place an alien forest of red and blue trees. The ground was a pale grey, and the distance I could see a stream of green water, presumably the one I had heard. Turning behind me I saw a great black plain covered in swaying orange grasses. However, while I heard these sounds of nature, I neither heard nor saw any signs of life whatsoever.

My easel and paints lay in front of me, the only things from our world that seemed to have followed me. For hours I painted this unearthly landscape, only stopping to look around once more and examine the peculiar plants that lay around me. I was lit in purple light for the entirety of my visit, for above me was what appeared to be a massive violet sun.

Eventually I collapsed, my hand throbbing and head aching, into a dreamless sleep. I woke once again in my Egyptian hotel room, drained and desperately hungry, but before lay the greatest painting I had ever made. The colours were sublime, beautifully blending light and dark, illustrating perfectly the insane alien land the purple draught had shown me. I knew this was everything I had strived for, that all my other paintings were mere shadows in comparison to this beauty. I knew in that moment that my whole life had lead up to this, to painting this masterpiece. In my own damned foolishness I thought that all it had take was this violet draught to unlock the beauty of my own psyche, to put the raw talent I was sure I possessed down onto canvas. I was so wrong, so arrogantly, stupidly wrong.

After having a marvellous breakfast to recover after my ordeal, I noticed my teeth seemed slightly sore, and examining them in the mirror, I noticed both they and my fingernails had a slightly purple tint, right at the base. It was no matter, I thought, and a small price to pay for the marvels I had wrought. Besides, I was sure it would was merely a passing side effect.

Returning to America, I immediately prepared my gallery. I included some minor pieces, but the focus was on my newest work.

When people began to arrive, i could tell they had never seen such magnificence, especially from me. While all made the necessary approving noises at my older paintings, all knew the centre of attention was on what the violet draught had produced. That day I was contacted by a New York art collector who had chanced upon my gallery while passing through. He wished to showcase my work in his own gallery, and put it up for auction.

I was ecstatic. Finally my work was getting the renown I knew it deserved. The gallery was exquisite, the art scene of New York all interrogating me about my inspiration, my technique, who I had studied, everything one could think to ask a budding artist. The Violet Draught I kept to myself, knowing many of them would not understand. It was merely a tool, I thought. The painting sold for ten thousand dollars.

That night I once again drank deep of the violet draught. Again I heard the sounds around me first this time the pitter patter of rain against dirt, and again I heard what sounded like the sound of more than one great snakes moving its bulk across the floor. It seemed slightly louder now, but again I paid it no mind. Once again I closed my eyes to allow the violet draught to transport me, and when I opened my eyes I was in the middle of a massive plain of grey dirt, spotted with bright yellow bushes. It was raining, green water flowing from the sky, but the water did not touch me, nor damage my easel. The purple sun was still high in the sky as before, seemingly not dampened by the rain around me. Black mountains lay far ahead of me, stretching up into the sky. Once again I could not hear or see any sign of life.

Once again, I painted till exhaustion, and once again I awoke from a deep dreamless slumber. My fingers and teeth were sore once more, and my hair seemed slightly off colour. But none of that mattered.

I sold this painting for even more. The elite of the American art scene began to take notice, and I rose quickly in circles of the upper class. I began to be regarded as a visionary as I drank more and painted more. Each was of a different vibrant landscape, each I was transported to after imbibing the purple draught. In the landscapes, the sound of the snakes became louder and louder, too loud too ignore. With the noise of slithering I once thought I heard voices, but I assumed it was nothing. Many hallucinogens have such affects, after all.

I had to wear gloves, as my fingernails turned purple, and became brittle. Soon they flaked off, but this was no matter, as once they crumbled away my fingers ceased to hurt. I stopped smiling, as my teeth had become dark purple, and no amount of brushing would get rid of the colour. After biting into a particularly tough steak, I felt a dull pain, and spat out the remains of three teeth. Upon the table they already began to crumble into purple dust. I began to only eat soup. My hair I shaved to hide the fact that it had turned purple and became so brittle it would snap off even attempting to brush it.

But all of this only added to my mystique, and I revelled in the attention. I was an eccentric artist, a step above the rest of humanity. Some hair, teeth and nails were nothing compared to my fame, and to the beauty that I had created. I ignored the many side effects, for I knew I could not go back to the life I had lead before. I had tasted greatness.

That is, until I awakened one morning to realize the bottle was empty. I had drunk all of the violet draught throughout the years, never thinking of checking when I was running low until it was too late. Even this did not sway me, in the beginning. The talent had been in me the entire time, had it not? The violet draught had only been needed to unlock it, but surely now I could create such marvels without it. I soon learned this was not the case. All I painted were pale reflections compared to what I had once made. The talent was gone with the draught, I realized, as I tore another painting apart, and collapsed weeping onto the floor.

The art world soon grew bored with me, passing me off for the next up and coming artist, I could not bear my lack of notoriety, so returned to Cairo to seek the man who had first sold me the violet draught. However, his shop was gone, replaced by a souvenir shop that sold nothing of which the mystical back room had contained. In desperation, i sent out servants, promising them riches if they could find me more. All were unsuccessful.

Until one early morning, when I head a knock on the door of my mansion. At my doorstep was the man who had sold me the bottle years ago, and he looked unchanged. He smiled upon seeing me, and took from behind his back a bottle of the violet draught. I promised him anything, but the waved away my offers, saying that beauty had no price. I fell on my knees thanking him, but he merely smiled, and handed my the bottle.

I soon fell back into the routine of drinking and painting. Soon however, the presentation of my work fell to my servants, as I became a recluse due to my physical appearance. It began to be much for some of my own servants to bear, even wrapped up in a robe as I was. My veins were violet, and all the hair on my body had turned purple. and brittle. I no longer had any teeth, all of them having turned to purple ash in my mouth. My skin had become fragile as well and any force would cause it to crack and peel, revealing dark grey-purple muscle. But this would not stop me. For months I painted under the influence of the Draught, the Englishman miraculously showing up whenever the previous bottle was depleted, to deliver to me the next dose of hell. My servants grew to recognize him, and would send him directly to my bed chambers whenever he arrived. I tried to walk as little as possible, my bones felt fragile, like anything would shatter them.

I could hear the sounds of the slithering more and more when I took the draught. I was wrong before, now I could tell it did not sound like snakes, but many great tentacles, all moving about each other. In the background I could also hear chanting, constant uninterrupted chanting in a language I did not understand. I could barely hear the originally pleasant sounds of the landscape for the endless wet sound of crawling tentacles. But still, I could see no signs of life, least of all some great many-tentacled beast. Occasionally I thought I could see strange flickers of movement off in the distance, but when I looked back there was nothing. The landscapes themselves also changed, the once-verdant lands seeming to become more sickly, and lifeless. Where once there were great forests, now the ground was littered with dead and dying trees. Plains of swaying grasses were now the dead refuse of plant life.

One morning, I was awoken from my slumber by a dull pain in my left eye. I ran to the bathroom clutching my face, but when I brought my hand away it was covered in the remains of my eyeball. It had fallen apart in my skull, and I could see inside there was no more white, just purple ash that had once been my eye.

I resolved to stop drinking the purple draught that day, to save whatever small part was left of my immortal soul, and of my physical form. I lasted all of one day, when I realized I could still hear the accursed sound of the many tentacled thing, closer and closer. The chanting was louder too, endless repetitive voices chanting one phrase in some alien tongue. The tentacles of whatever it was seemed so close now, and I was sure I would be grasped and devoured by whatever beast they belonged, but I could not see them. I could not stop drinking the purple draught, I understood in that moment, I had to keep painting, for it was the only thing I still derived some feeling from.

This brings us the end of my tale, and to my last painting. Thankfully, the only thing left relatively untouched is my right hand, so I can still paint and write this wretched account. I am almost all gone now, my skin long since peeled off revealing the purple muscle underneath. I no longer feel pain, and on one curious day I broke a finger on my left hand as easily as one would break a twig. Inside of the bone was more of the purple dust, marrow or other interior long since crumbled away. My other eye went the way of the first, but that is no matter. The Purple Draught has ensured I no longer need eyes to see the plantless and desolate landscapes I paint. It has taken care of my ears too, crumbled away long away, but I can always hear the sound of the creature and of the chanting. I feel like I could touch the tentacles now, and the chanting is almost deafening. Worst of all, whatever owns those tentacles has begun to speak to me, on sleepless nights it has told so many secrets of the world, and of its strange other land. It is the creatures world I intruded upon, and from It the purple draught comes. I was an interloper, but I will not be much longer. I will drink deep once more, and I will paint, and then it will claim me. I will finally see It, and thank God I will. All I wish now is for silence, and peace from the purple draught. Finally, that vast purple monstrosity will reveal itself, and claim my wretched soul for whatever violet hell it spawned from.

So ends my sad story, and a message to all who read this. Stay away from the Purple Draught, for the wonders you will see are not worth the price it exacts.

#The Violet Draught #Horror Stories #TTOH #Scary Story #Reddit NoSleep

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ashleighxx · 7 years ago

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Klarolinemashup Day Three

Sunday16th|TropeMashupPrompt|MythicalCreatures+CoffeeshopAU

She was deep into her favorite book, coffee machines and people chattering as background noise as she was consumed by the story yet again, and she never tired of the feeling she got when she submerged herself into a new world, lived a different life from someone else's eyes.

"Your kind are hard to come by." A deep, accented voice brought her out of her reverie. She glanced up from her book that was sat in front of her next to her latte and saw a handsome man. He had stubble which helped emphasise his jawline a bit, short, curly, brown hair and bright blue eyes. Very handsome indeed. He exuded charm, bravado and power underneath the good looking exterior, her inner demon was itching to come out and play. Can tell how powerful he was, can tell how more powerful he could be too. Her demon smiled in delight. "And yours is fun to play with." "I'm glad you think so, maybe you can help me out with a tiny problem?" He leaned forward into her personal space, his scent of woods and whisky and age travelled to her, she nestled purred in delight. "What kind of problem?" She raised her eyebrow in question, trying to tame herself, rein her claws and teeth that itches to sink into his skin. "One that requires your unusual tactics. Come by place tomorrow," he passed her a business card with and address and number on, "we can have a chat in private if you're interested." And with that he stood up from his chair and walked out of the coffee shop. Glancing at his card she spotted his name. Klaus Mikaelson. His kind was so much fun indeed. Especially a family of Original vampires.

Caroline walked up the pathway leading her to a massive mansion. The architecture of the place was simply stunning and was highlighted with the off-white limestone paint. She stood in front of the huge door way, two large marble pillars at either side of her, she knocked the door quietly knowing she would be heard. "Well hello there, darling. What can I do for you?" The young, dark haired, roughing looking man greeted her. A seductive smile graced his face but his eyes were all predatory. A gust of wind drew her attention behind him where Klaus appeared. "Come in, love. Ignore my brother Kol here would you, he knows no manners." Stepping into the house she was awestruck by the beauty of the interior. No matter how long she had lived her life, she still loved seeing the beauty in the world, was still shocked by the wonderful sight of it all. Caroline turned back to see Klaus gazing at her with a pleased smiled, and he should. "So you're the succubus." Kol concluded before his features lit with glee and mischievous. "You have got to do me! Glamour me, put me in a trance!" He practically jumped around like he was a child wanting treats, a dog wanting it's chew toy. Caroline looked at Klaus to see if his brother was insane or dead serious in his request and the hybrid shrugged his shoulders a little, giving her the choice to use her power on him or not. She looked into the younger originals eyes and felt her power prickle beneath the skin, smiling seductively she touched his shoulder as she walked passed, leaving him to sand where he was, stuck until his visions were over. "Follow me."

The hybrid led her into his study slash studio. The large room was split in two, on the left was an easel and paints decorated around a table, canvases strewn across the side wall and sketch book upon sketch book stacked on a side table too. She was surprised that the art studio was as organised as an artist could be. She's seen her fair share of them over the centuries. The right side of the room had floor to ceiling height bookcases, lined up with ancients rolls of parchment and books. A large wooden desk was sat in front of the bookcases and a chair in between them, facing his art studio. In the middle of the room sat two sofas opposite each other and a table in between. Decanters of blood and alcohol inside them. "Please sit." Klaus nudged her further into the room and he walked around her to gather some crystal glasses, sitting on a sofa while he poured the brown liquid into them. "So how did you know what I am? Only a few know my kind exists, never mind actually finding us." Caroline asked him. It was true though, not many people seemed to find her species out, even witches claimed they were myth and that only vampires and werewolves existed. "Let's just say my brother Kol is on good terms with a friend of yours, Lorenzo?" She nodded, thinking of ways she's gonna kill him if this goes wrong. "Well he told us if your location as you were closer to us than him. He also said you wouldn't mind as you'll enjoy playing." Caroline took a deep gulp of her whisky as Klaus leaned back in his chair, confident that she would help. He had a tiny gleam in his eyes, excitement. Hers probably matched his, she did enjoy having fun. "What is it you wish for me to do?" "What is it you can do?" Klaus challenged her, not many that did know of her existence knew the power she held and how she weaved it. It's how they liked it. "Don't you worry about that, what do you need done?" She challenged. "There's a precious stone that I need to retrieve, but I cannot procure an invite to the house. The town of Mystic Falls are aware of vampires and their weaknesses due to a council of founding families. The whole town aren't aware but just enough to get messy when I need to do a bit of light thievery and murder you know?" He paused sipping on his drink before he carried on. "The moonstone I need back is in the mayor's house, somewhere. There is also a teeny glitch called the Salvatore brothers. Both vampires and harbouring my doppelgänger." Caroline was deep in thought planning, seeing what powers would be needed and what not. Humans are easy, they don't really question much. Vampires, though fun to play with, may be able to tell if she put them in a trance depending on how old they are.

“So why don't you just kill them all in a horrific town meeting then take the doppelgänger?”

“My brother, Elijah, made me a deal unfortunately. If I was to spare his deceitful doppelgänger who escaped my last ritual and promised not to kill anyone next time round, then he and his whore would help me by keeping an eye on her family lineage, let me know when a new doppelgänger popped up and stay out of the way.”

A few hours later, a few more drinks later, Caroline and Klaus had finally mapped out a plan and a contingency plan and a further few more ideas if anything should go wrong. But she was confident in getting the job done the first time. Klaus was doubting as he didn't know of her abilities and he also didn't want the ritual to go wrong.

Suddenly the doors barged open, Kol standing in a slight gaze, looking at her in awe with a huge smile on his face. "Oh my God. That. That was amazing! Wow. Nik, you need a go of that.." He thrummed in excitement. "Thank you." And with that he flashed back out.

"What did you make him see? When he was in that trance?" Klaus asked her, still curious of her powers. She didn't mind answering this though as she didn't know herself. "When I put people in that trance like state of mind, it shows the person their desires. It could be money, power, sex. It differs person to person. Once in that trance I could see what they are seeing, use that information to seduce them into plans and schemes or I could choose not to see their desires and still feed on the power they produce from the trance." "So that's one of your powers?" "And that's all you're getting to know of them." She pointed her finger at him sternly. . It only took Caroline an evening to do her tasks, like she told the hybrid, so she waited until the night before the full moon. She made sure he had his witch waiting for the ritual. She was in the Grille for her unsuspected target, son of the mayor, Tyler. He was so into her all evening that she didn't need to seduce him with her powers before he invited her home. Luckily enough for both of them, he passed out in bed from all the alcohol he drank. Waiting until she could hear his parents sleeping she cast her powers over them that made sure they slept, giving her plenty of time to find the moonstone in the location Tyler drunkenly slipped out. The house only had one safe. After Caroline pocketed the moonstone, she made her way over to the Salvatore boarding house. The eldest brother and the school teacher, from the notes and research Klaus told her of, sat by the fire drinking, brooding. From the power she absorbed from the Lockwood's, she felt it prickle under her skin, itching to get out. She focused her power as she let it loose and she knocked the pair out before casting them into a sleep. Just one more house to visit tonight then she had work to do tomorrow to keep them distracted. The Gilbert house, just three humans and a vampire staying in the house. Perfect. It was nearly sunrise so the occupants were already asleep, making her job so much easier. The aunt and brother were the easy targets, but the vampire had to be done first in case he woke up and spotted her. Once the three were under her spell she woke the brunette doppelgänger up, her eyes lit in fear and confusion as Caroline's eyes turn silver whispering seductive commands for her to calm down and follow, into her car and back to her hotel where Klaus waited for her.

He smiled gratefully as he took the moonstone and the Gilbert girl away, leaving her to get some much needed rest and a shower.

The next day she spent all day trapping them inside the grille unknowingly under her spell before she made her way to the woods to watch Klaus' ritual. Watching him slaughter three innocents before he fell to the floor, blood dripping down him, bones cracking and golden eyes. Breathtaking. . Caroline spent three days pacing her hotel room nervously, constantly checking her phone for any signs of him being alive. She wasn't used to feeling this anxious before, this need to know if someone is safe. But she had and she needed to know. So she grabbed her bag and made her way to the front door, surprised at opening it to reveal the hybrid in question, looking very much alive. Looking very, very attractive. Wearing his dark grey henley, black jeans that fitted his rear perfectly, black combat boots and his array of necklaces. Bringing her eyes to his face hoping she wasn't caught practically drooling, she brought herself back down to her mask of boredom and nonchalance. "Finally going to take me up on that trance offer?" He walked in without taking his eyes off her and closed the door after him, "You could try if you want." Frowning, Caroline brought her power from deep within her, felt it being cast over Klaus but it didn't click, didn't sink into his body but instead drew back into her. "It didn't work." "Performance issues." He joked as he walked towards her, making her step back unconsciously. "That's never happened before." She was still staring back into his eyes as she felt the wall hit her back all of a sudden, Klaus standing in front of her, gazing, searching. "Why didn't it work?" She questioned herself more than him, but he answered anyway. "Because I don't want a little fantasy, Caroline. I want the real thing." His voice came out husky as he positioned himself, hitching her right leg over his hip and drawing his hand on her bare thigh as her dress moved. "The real thing?" She gulped in anticipation, blood pumping with arousal. "And what real thing do you want?" She spoke breathlessly. His other hand came up and cradled her face, both thumbs moving in circles, in sync with each other over her soft skin. He tilted her face up towards his more as he closed the gap between them. Both smiling as their eyes flicked to the others lips and back to each other's eyes. "You." He barely managed to get the words out before his mouth finally reached hers, her hands coming up to cling on to the back of his neck, grabbing into his curls as she deepened the kiss.

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