#he is concerned that I know nothing about fish. which is fair

[girlscience]

MEETING IS DONE. He said I am definitely moving forward. I have to have a meeting with the other grad students in the center, and they have right of refusal, so if they don't like me I will not be admitted to the program. That will probably be next week.

[xxanaduwrites]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ a residue series installment ˚ ୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

wearin’ that loved on look

✎ elementary-teacher!reader (miss.honey) x biker!benny 🏍️

summary: in which a drawn out engagement leaves honey takin’ matters into her own hands. benny may or may not break a rule or two, actin’ married sooner rather than later when seeing his honey wearin’ that loved on look ;)

warnings: 18 + only. alluded sexual content but nothing super crazy. quite more poetic actually. they are pretty much pining over each other. no actual smut here but i may write a part 2 if requested or interest ensues.

word count: 4.2k

main hive 🐝

💌 requests are open, send ‘em honey 💋

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You were taking one last look in the mirror when that familiar sound of a rumbling engine echoed out on the street near your front lawn. Your stomach couldn’t help but twist up in a tight knot, your reflection staring back at you, confirming there was no turning back now. Your man was here. He was right outside, and it’d be cruel to make him wait a minute longer. Would it? Or would it be just the right thing. Sixty seconds to settle yourself. Sixty seconds to render your composure and pique his interest simultaneously.

All good things come to those who wait after all.

So you took your time – well as much time as you would allow yourself. Stepping over a lone shoe missing its match and an overall or two, you made your way over to the window to let your man know you’d be out in just a minute. On a night like this, you knew he’d keep the engine running, Itching to get to the club. Itching to get you out of your parents’ hair. Not wanting to waste a single second he could be spending with just you. So, it was only fair when you rolled up the window and hollered his name over the not-so quiet street. The sound of his engine was noisy enough to mask out the hinges of the old window panes attached to your house.

Not wanting to give too much away, you ducked ever-so swiftly as Benny’s head turned in the direction of your sweet voice. Once his eyes landed on you, all he could see was your small head, a mound of honey dewdrop curls planted up on your head like your own personal hive. And then you were holding up a finger, silently telling him to hold on for just a minute, and he of course was complying – still with a sliver of hesitance though. It was unlike you to leave him waiting. Especially on a night like this. A night that didn’t require hitting the hay early for rising school hours. No – it was a Friday night. An oddly warm and buggy Friday night, relevant over the sudden silence of his engine succumbing to the buzzing cicadas.

Mounting off his bike, he settled into a casual lean against it instead. However, his cool demeanor did not match the tumbleweed of thoughts rolling inside his head.

Were your Ma and Pa holding you back? Would they come out to talk to him? Were they finally gonna rip off the bandage and take away the blessing of marrying you he’d been working so hard to maintain?

Pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger, he let out a much needed breath before fishing for his pack of cigarettes in his pocket. The urge for a smoke was unbearable and warranted, so much so, that when he lit the thing up, took a look around, and really settled with his thoughts, his concerns didn’t feel as daunting as they once were. Upon inspection, your driveway was vacant, empty – confirming that one or both of your parents had to be out on the town or out of it completely. It wasn’t unusual for them to trek to another state for a festival where honey sales were of great interest, and on top of that, well – you didn’t look upset by any means. That had to be a plus there. Could it? He couldn’t recall your smile meeting your eyes through the warm honey light shining from your childhood bedroom against the deep dark night….

He was just about to take another drag when the hinges of your front door squeaked in protest, your silhouetted figure crisp against the hall lamp light. Right before you were about to close the front door completely, you peeked your head back inside, practically cursing yourself as you smacked on the front porch light.

Welp – there was truly no turning back now. Your one minute time stamp was long gone. The hair tie, that you’d already regretted taking out of your hair, was haphazardly tossed on your vanity, and the searing porch light was now burning you like a spot light. The show had begun, and boy were you giving your Benny a show.

He blinked. Once, twice, maybe three times? He wasn’t sure. Hell – how could he keep count when he was looking at you. You – his fiance, top snug in a new denim vest, decked out in patches galore, and bottom – god your bottom – in a matching mini skirt, your smooth honey tanned legs on full display. With your hair scooped down, tossed messily in a side parted wave and your form lacking its usual layers of clothes, his eyes rounded out, jaw slackened, and his pants – well they started to feel real tight around him.

Little did he know you were nervous. Real nervous to come towards him. To be out in such an outfit that was so unlike you. Sure you were known for your signature denim and fun patches, but not like this. Not out of your more appropriate school clothes that consisted of long skirts and dresses, and of course your usual overalls. And hey – there was no denying that you wore shorts every now and then on your days off. The Chicago heat was no joke on those dense warm summer days. Yet there was nothing sunny about tonight, no – not in this darkness where you felt in competition with the moon.

As you walked towards Benny, you couldn’t help but pull your skirt down ever-so slightly, the barely there length making you rather uncomfortable and out of sorts. You could only hope you weren’t mooning your house, let alone your neighbors. The last thing you needed were your parents finding out you left the house with your ass out.

Funnily enough, your worry slipped your mind the moment your eyes landed on Benny. Eyes alight, he looked like a lost puppy, begging for a treat. So much so, that the cigarette dangling between his teeth lost purchase. His jaw so slack from shock, the cylinder tipped right out of his mouth and hit the pavement. You almost laughed. You really almost did, but you bit down on your lip before it could escape you.

You were relieved to say the least, and his reaction alone reminded you why you were doing this in the first place. It wasn’t because you were fishing for his attention. You always had it. Hell – you had him wrapped around your little finger, even if you were too humble and sometimes clueless to really think so.

But here, now – there was a difference. A difference because you were not only trying to reward him for being so good to you, but also because you wanted a little something more from him. Of course you just loved being his fiance, but waiting to get married was taking such a toll on you. You wanted to be his wife sooner rather than later, and it was no help at all that your parents were being sticklers in the matter. Practically ruining your plans of getting hitched anytime soon. It was all this and that of them wanting Benny to prove himself. To show himself worthy to your parents that he would be a good fit for their daughter. You thought it was all rather counter productive. Benny had shown himself worthy to you in many ways, and there was no denying that it perturbed you that your parents didn’t trust your judgment. You were a big girl, a fully grown adult, a whole school teacher, and yet they still treated you like you were a little one.

You didn’t want to be treated like that tonight. No – you wanted to be treated like a wife. His wife.

Benny was in the midst of reaching down for his fallen cigarette, too lovestruck and drunk off your presence to realize it was long gone and better off forgotten. Funnily enough, his peripheral vision was still trained on you, making you realize sooner than later that upon straightening back out, he’d have the perfect view under your skirt. The thought made you blush all over, warming up your insides.

Before his lean fingers could snag the thing, your wedged denim sandal found purchase on the discarded cylinder, the fire burning out as your foot stomped on it. “S’dirty.” You reasoned, those pretty sky blue eyes of his boring up at you in a way that kind-of reminded you of the little school children you worked with. There was an innocence there. One that was only reserved for you, hidden beneath a tough rounded out exterior apparent to everyone else. Yet, it wasn’t all innocent. No — not in the way his features twisted up in desire.

For a second you almost thought he was gonna take you right there and then, a nosedive right up your skirt that you wouldn’t deny. But no — instead you were left wanting, aching as he straightened himself back up, warm calloused fingertips brushing against the small remnants of exposed skin between your vest and skirt, hands materializing at your hips and pulling you in.

“Honey….” He drawled, a fun little whistle rather detached from his usual deep tuned voice spurring out of him. “Wha’ I do to deserve this?” He mused, planting kisses across your neck, erupting you in giggles. “Hm?” He pressed, squeezing your sides sweetly.

In your defense, who could blame you for being tongue tied when he was all over you? Pillowy lips snagging the delicate skin of your neck, soft and sweet. “Is tha’ even a question?” You giggled again as his teeth dragged against your collarbone.

“M’serious…” he murmured into your skin, stifling the growl that was bound to escape him. “S’there a special occasion I dunno ‘bout?” He tried again, but suddenly stiffened. Lips detached from your skin, as well as his warm breath. An indication that he was holding it in. “S’not our anniversary is it? I swore it wasn’t until — fuck, m’sorry Honey did I —“ his words caught in his throat, tangled in a web of self inflicted doubt, and you hated it. Hated seeing him like this, thinking he had done something wrong. Fucked up somehow. But you were quick — so quick in assessing the situation, your hands, fingernails decked out in your usual color of choice — ballet slippers — and Benny’s ring, still snug on your honorary finger since your engagement, circled around his face.

It took him a moment, but his scruffy cheeks relaxed against your palms in an instant when your eyes met his in alarm. “No, baby. Nah. Ain’t an anniversary or nothin’. Just wanted to show y’my love. That’s all.” His pinched brows smoothed out, and you smiled as you watched the worry flee his eyes. “Betty er —“ you began rather shyly, “she uh gave me one of her old vests, y’see?” You explained, dropping your hands from his face and onto the clothing in question. “Johnny’s got her a new one, so she said I could have hers. Deck it out. Do what I wanna with it. So….” You turned on your heel, spinning in a quick circle before sing-songing a, “ta-da!” like you’d do for your students when you had some sort of surprise or good news. Usually it’d be a lollipop for each after an exam. A congratulatory treat for completing such a task!

Your nerves were still running on a high, but you flashed Benny one of your grand smiles as you striked a little pose, jazz hands included.

When it hit you what you were doing, you mentally wanted to curse yourself out for putting on such a childish act. This was all about acting like a wife, not a child! You wanted him to want you just as much as you wanted him, but what kind of motives were this?

Thankfully, your mental battle didn’t last very long. It ended quite quickly the moment his mouth opened and drawled, “Hmm….C’mere. Lemme take a closer look at ya.”

You obliged without question. Without resistance. Without any sort of hesitation. His voice always tickled you to the bone, but this — this! This was something else entirely. Something that sent honey down below in deep measure. So you stepped forward, becoming caged by his observation in an instant. His hands materialized on your hips against the rough denim of your skirt all over again. It was like he was scared you’d walk away before he’d get to really look at the art in front of him, and god were you just a whole masterpiece.

You stayed silent, giving him the space to do as such, but you couldn’t help but watch him as he drank you in from head to toe. His eyes wandered over every patch, and it made your cheeks burn when he spent extra time on the ones that really resembled you. There were the cute little bedazzled bees and a jar of honey of course, but also an apple as a little ode to your teacher status. You stitched some extra flowers you had leftover from when you were sewing patches onto your denim overall dress from school. The one you met Benny in the very first day you saw him.

“Baby….” he hummed in complete approval. “Ya real talented, y’know that? S’good. Too —“ But then his words cut out in the midst of complimenting you, and you knew he finally saw it. The patch that was just the beginning to what the back claimed, but held so much more commitment. More devotion even. In the front, on the left upper side of the vest right over your heart was a patch, shaped in such a way — a heart to be exact — with the words Benny’s Baby stitched right into it. “Wha — What’s this?”

Your heart dropped to your stomach then, worry shooting through your veins as you scrambled to complete your next sentence. “S’just a — a lil’ something. I know you were uh — real hell bent about the ring thing. Getting me a proper one or whatever so…” you trail off, nudging your purse from your shoulder so you could open up it and reveal the contents of your explanation. Benny just stared, watched you like some fascinated kid about to be gifted a candy cigarette for the first time as you took out the matching patch you made for him. One that was more daring, more forward, and far more a symbol of ownership than anything you had on yours, as far as you were concerned. “I uh — I made you one too,” you tumbled out, hands shaking as you held it out for him to see. A similar heart. Rather exact to yours. The catch? It said Honey’s Hubby in your pretty neat stitched cursive. “And look, you don’t have to wear it if you don’t wanna. I know it’s kind of silly and all, but I just thought it could be our thang, y’know? Our promise to each other but again if that’s —“

“Honey, Honey….Honey,” he rumbled out soft, smooth, and sultry, all the same, bringing your rambling to a hault. “Are ya kiddin’ me? Y’think I wouldn’t wear this?” He asked, his thumb rubbing across the indentations the stitching made over and over again. If he could mold his finger print into the embroidery, write those same words repeatedly, eternally to show his devotion, he would.

“Well I, I mean —“ you dropped your hands dramatically at your sides. “The guys….”

“What about ‘em?” Benny pressed, pocketing your creation protectively over his heart before taking a step closer to you. “I don’t care wha’ they think. Don’t care what anybody thinks besides you,” his hand circled your side once more, this time pulling you in so you were chest to chest. “Look, soon when the times right,” he let out a frustrated sigh, clearly targeted towards your parents who weren’t even in the vicinity, ”on paper, in writing, y’gonna be my wife. But right here, right now, fucking on this patch, y’already mine, kay?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, your hands taking purchase on Benny’s vest, fingers trailing down the patches, down until you reached his belt, down down down until his breath caught his throat.

“Honey…” he warned, eyes drooping with heaviness. Heaviness in your desire and his own. It wasn’t that he didn’t want you. Hell — he always fucking wanted you. Only you. But he had made a promise to himself.

To you. For you.

He promised to wait. Wait to have all of you.

He knew he wasn’t a good guy. Knew he’d never be the good guy, but he wanted to be better for you. Do better for you. So, he decided early on — the moment he knew he wanted you to be his wife, that he’d at least do one thing right.

Sure you’d fool around. There wasn’t any way either of you could resist it. Not when Benny’s muscular arms appeared full display when a shirt simply couldn’t be an option on one of those super sweltering days. It’d be a sin not to have your hands all over him, feeling the warmth of his toned sun-kissed skin under your palms. And you — oh you, in one of your pretty little dresses, a rare sight to see on a weekday. Benny’d be kicking himself for weeks on end if he didn’t seize the opportunity, didn’t get to have his skilled calloused fingers up and under your skirt.

“Wha?” You asked innocently with batting lashes.

He didn’t move away from your touch, but stilled yours, his large hand encircling both your smaller ones hugging onto his belt loop. “Y’know we can’t….” He murmured, vibrated even. His words didn’t match what he wanted. You could tell in the way his bottom lip turned crimson as he bit down through all his restraint, and his eyes burned darker in the pale moonlight. And of course you could tell by the obvious bulge that was forming rather apparently in his jeans.

“Not right nowwww…” you trailed, pulling on the reins of his belt loop so you could be closer. “Lata, after the club. My parents ain’t home for the rest of the weekend. Won’t be home until Monday. So…Y’know what that meansss?”

“So that’s why y’dolled up like this?” He huffed, a big toothed smile in pure disbelief stretching across his gorgeous features. A rare sight to see. So rare that you almost thought you imagined his eyes crinkling at the edges in pure amusement. “To get me inta y’bed?”

Embarrassment dusted your cheeks in red heat. So hot, it left you shy in the wake of your motives. “S’not just —“ you stammered, trying to find the right words to say what you truly felt.

But you were frustrated. So frustrated. And Benny well — he was sure to fix that. Sure to get that stubborn crease out between your brows that waa forming in pure stress. “If that wha’ y’wanted, baby. Y’coulda just asked.” He mused, lips pressing against the curve of your neck, right near a sensitive spot he knew worked you up. “As much as I love all this,” he whispered, the warmth of his breathe sending a shiver down your spine as his hands traveled down your silhouette, “Y’could be wearin’ a potato sack, and I’d still find ya sexy.”

You understood what he meant, and you appreciated it. You really did. But that wasn’t the point. The point was much more emotional, more intense, more meaningful, and you weren’t gonna let it slip way. “S’not just about gettin’ ya in my bed,” you started, your lips parting and almost making you lose your train of thought as his lips edged the side of your ear. Your hands moved up the plains of his chest and you pushed him back ever-so slightly.

His lips detached from your skin in an instant and those pretty blue eyes of his locked with yours in complete attentiveness. “Then wha’ is it, Honey?”

“I know y’say I’m already yours, and I believe ya I really do, but,” you sighed, “why doesn’t it feel that way?”

“Wha — wha d’ya mean?” He asked, fingers pressing into your sides in a way that made you know he was the one gettin’ frustrated now. Frustrated that he could lose you. That you could just slip between his fingertips.

Reassuring him, you slipped your hands upward, looping them behind and around his neck lovingly. “I mean…I’m tired, baby. Tired of waitin’ to be your wife. And I’m sick of my Ma and Pa thinkin’ they can control us. Control what we want. Control our lives. Why let ‘em? When have you — Mister doesn’t let anybody tell ‘em what to do— follow the rules?”

You had a point. Benny knew that. It was rather out of character for him to be a goody-to-shoes, if you will, but this — this was different. This was him showing his honor. His dedication to you. Similarly to how he would to the club. Deep down you knew that too.

“I am too,” Benny admitted, his fingers relaxing against you, his admission draining the tension from his body. “As much as I’d like ta marry ya right ‘bout now, the courthouses ain’t open, and I know it’d break Betty’s lil’ heart if we went off and got hitched with all the plannin’ she’s up to.”

“Oh no — i know. I know we can’t do that right now crazy,” you laughed lightly before getting serious, “And y’know I’d neva’ do that to her. Neva eva.”

“Mhm,” he hummed, eyes never leaving you.

“I just wanna be close to you. That’s all. Never feel — never feel close enough, y’know?” Now you were the one with an admission.

Benny’s features softened in an instant, shoulders slumping against your arms. You could feel his resolve slipping in the seconds that slipped by your words. He went silent for a minute. Just a minute. Sixty seconds that had the gears turning in his head. But sixty seconds that would change everything once they were through. He knew you were right about the rules. He wasn’t one to follow them anyways, and besides in the long run would it really hurt to break just this one a bit? A bit for you who was wanting to do just the same.

You who was begging to be his wife.

If it was so wrong then why did it feel so right?

“Y’wanna be closer to me? Wanna feel what it’s really like to be married, baby?” He said suddenly, taking you off guard.

He pulled you in closer, and your heart leaped in your chest. “Yes,” you said as confidently as you could.

“Then when the club’s through, I’ll stay the night and you’ll have me, ‘kay?” The words you were longing to hear had come into frusion.

Your disbelief and pure surprise made you eager to confirm they were real. “Oh Benny! Are y’sure?” You asked, practically jumping up and down.

“M’sure,” Benny laughed lightly, his heart warming at the sight of you in genuine happiness. “As y’said, when have I ever followed the rules?”

“Hm…Tha’ my Benny…” you murmured before his lips captured yours in a searing passionate kiss.

You were so wrapped in one another, not realizing how long you were standing there, that it took one of the neighbor’s lights turning on through their window in your peripheral vision for you to pull apart.

“We should go,” Benny said breathlessly. His lips were swollen and puffy with a thin sheen of your lip gloss now coating ‘em. You had to stifle a laugh when you reached up and wiped the excess off with your thumb.

You nodded in agreement, turning with him to mount the bike, but at the last second you stopped in your tracks. “Wait Benny! I forgot to show you the back.” You exasperated, stepping back.

“Hm?” He hummed in confusion, not leaving his spot on the bike, mounted and ready to go as he looked at you.

“The vest!” You explained, spinning on your heel and revealing the back. In the center, around the usual Outlaws Chicago emblem, instead of a skull in the center, you replaced it with a patch that said, Property of Benny.

You stood there for a minute. Sixty seconds in your pose, and just when you were about to open your mouth and ask if he liked it, did you suddenly feel those all too familiar arms circle around you and hold you up in the air. “Benny!” You squealed when your feet were no longer against the pavement dangling in the air.

“That’s it,” he groaned, before swooping up your feet bridal style and walking across the grass.

“Benny! What’re ya doing?” Your eyes widened in surprise as you watched him walk you in the opposite direction of the bike. To your front door. “Wha’ about the club?” You probbed again frantically.

“Club can wait.” He said simply. “Actin’ married can’t.”

That was all it took — well that and his lips molding against yours, silencing every thought you ever had once the door closed behind you two and you ended up doing just what you intended.

Actin’ married.

Because even if it wasn’t legal yet, you were bound together spiritually by your feelings and actions alone.

You became his, and he became yours on a randomly warm night under the pale moonlight.

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authors note: i apologize for how long this took for me to update! i’m just glad my writer’s block has ended & i’m back.

but anywayssss i may write a part 2 to this ;)

also if ya new here hi! welcome honey & if you aren’t but haven’t yet don’t forget to comment if you’d like be added to “da bee hive” (my version of da tag list)

smoochies. all da love xanadu 💋

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[robinnsblog]

Most themes and symbolism about the game have already been discussed, so I’m not going to focus on those here. What I’m going to focus on, however, are the “friendships” in the game.

The game has clear influences from Neon Genesis Evangelion, one of its themes being human connections — so it feels fair to explore those here, don’t you agree?

Let’s start with the more positive ones: Swansea, Anya and Curly.

Both Curly (in How Fish Is Made DLC) and Swansea (after he mercy kills Daisuke) mention working over a decade for Pony Express, so they most likely went in several trips together and got to know each other. The case with Anya is a bit unclear, but she is close enough to playfully tease Swansea about liking the cake, and Curly has brought both of their playlists (Swansea’s and Anya’s) to the ship for years. Not only that, Curly calls Swansea “Big Swan” in flavor text and he probably was the one to gift him the swan keychain.

Between Anya and Curly we have the medical evaluations, including the one in the demo. It’s true that Curly didn’t open up much to Anya and the conflict with Jimmy ended up disastrously, but those brief moments were kind of sweet and they showed that there was at least a bit of trust between the two.

There was also some trust between Anya and Swansea, since he trusted her to rely his message to Curly, instead of sending Jimmy —who was standing outside the Utility room doing nothing— to get the Captain. At the birthday party, the two were standing next to each other as well, so one can safely assume they were in friendly terms.

Swansea and Daisuke

I don’t think I can add anything that hasn’t been said already. Swansea didn’t want Daisuke to join the corporate hellscape and become a jagged adult like them, and saved the cryopod for him so he could get saved if the situation came to it.

Now, let’s analyze the negatives ones: Curly and Jimmy.

I must preface this that I’m not going to discuss any relationship between Jimmy and the others, only those two, because I don’t think he ever considered them friends and viceversa.

In other words, there is no friendship to discuss there.

But to be fair, there isn’t much friendship between Jimmy and Curly either, because I hope we can all agree that Jimmy is a toxic/abusive friend to Curly. If you search the signs of an abusive or toxic friendship, Jimmy fits all the criteria even before the crash:

Not only he does not show an ounce of gratitude to Curly for getting him the job to begin with, he isn’t happy for his friend’s accomplishments.

Though he asks what is troubling Curly, he does so not out of concern, but because he can’t comprehend why his “friend” isn’t happy with the position he, Jimmy, covets.

And when Curly opens up, immediately after Jimmy makes it about himself. Curly tries to cheer him up, despite being the one down in spirits and in need of moral support.

Not to mention, when he gets angry, Jimmy uses what Curly shared in confidence as ammo to hurt him: he puts words in his mouth, barely lets him talk or defend himself, and insists his intentions were something else.

In my personal opinion, Curly only said: “I can fix it”, “We can figure all of this out”… because he was aware that he was also to blame for what happened to Anya — as Jimmy points out, as the captain, Curly should have had everything under control. However, what Jimmy is doing here is shifting the blame entirely on Curly, exploiting his guilty conscience to avoid repercussions.

All of this was, of course, affecting Curly’s health, compromising his effectiveness as a captain. Some of the effects of a toxic friendship are as listed:

Increased stress: Curly had trouble sleeping, though that could be attached at their horrible work conditions and wanting to escape to something better.

Emotional exhaustion, which can reduce your ability to focus: in the very first scene we control Curly, Anya calls him out for not paying attention in his med eval.

Isolation and distrust: in the same scene, Anya also calls him out for not opening up.

Fear of conflict: in their confrontations, Jimmy is the dominant voice and Curly barely gets out two sentences.

I don’t want to excuse Curly, but the first step to drop a toxic friendship, is recognizing you’re in one, which is difficult if you have been led to believe you were always the one in the wrong and the “good moments” make us forget the “bad times”. As Curly said, they go far… but how far did Jimmy mess him up? We can only speculate.

As a silver lining, maybe this hallucination was Curly’s subconscious warning him about Jimmy and how miserable his “friend” was making him.

But in the end, Jimmy was to Curly, what the alcohol in the mouthwash bottle was to Swansea…

… that one setback away from their worst selves.

[moutainrusing]

rumour mill

See, Sirius was terrified out of his mind to confess his feelings for Remus. Even though it was definitely about time; he’d been talking James’s ear off for years at this point. In all fairness, James had been talking Sirius’s ear off about Lily for far longer than that, except as James smugly pointed out, and much to Sirius’s resentment, James had actually confessed to Lily.

This led to a wrestling match over who was the bravest. After around ten minutes, James captured Sirius’s arm between his legs and twisted it upwards until Sirius was yelling, “Fine! I give up, you win, now get off me!” (Mary had walked into the dorm looking for Peter, but with wide eyes and a traumatised expression, she’d backed out immediately, muttering about how they should lock the door. Honestly, it was just a typical brawl, some people genuinely had no guts.)

“Ha!” James cried victoriously. “I’m braver, I confessed to Lily, and you’re just a pathetic pining loser!” Jabbing Sirius in the stomach, he teased, “Zero. Guts.”

“I said get off,” Sirius grumbled petulantly, shoving James away just to collapse on top of him again. “I just can’t,” he whined miserably, tracing erratic patterns along the side of James’s body. Thinking of actually speaking to Remus about how whenever Sirius was within his vicinity, his heart lodged in his throat, would probably cause his heart to leap out of his throat, flailing around on the floor at Remus’s feet like a dying fish, gasping to swim in Remus’s bloodstream as if that were its only survival.

“Hey,” James gently took Sirius’s agitated hand between his own, caressing the skin until the shaking stopped. “You can, I know you can. You can do anything you put your mind to, Padfoot.”

Sirius grouched, “Don’t wanna put my mind to it.”

James squeezed his hand.

Sirius rolled his eyes, “Fine, I do. And I know he likes me back. Well, I think he likes me back.”

James snorted, “He’s head over heels for you.”

Sirius blushed, but shrugged it off, “Not as much as I am for him.”

“Oh, it’s equal alright,” James nodded sagely. “S’why you’re perfect for each other.”

Sirius buried his head in James’s thigh, unable to respond. He had so many reasons for why he and Remus weren’t perfect for each other, but no matter what, James would always argue against them. If Sirius expressed any misgivings, James would brush them away, as if he were the wind carrying Sirius’s worry to the other side of the world, but even there, Sirius’s worry would still exist. James didn’t get it, and if Sirius conveyed his concerns, it would be a never-ending back and forth of how his concerns were meaningless, but they meant something to him, but they shouldn’t, but they did, and James would drive himself in spirals for not being able to help Sirius, but nothing could help Sirius, his worries just existed.

It wasn’t something to fix. They could be lessened, but they could never be fixed. They could be vented about, but then James would try to return a solution. What if Sirius just wanted to rant for no reason?

- - -

“Ooh, dorm hug!” Peter smiled as he entered, collapsing on the floor next to James. Wrapping an arm around him, he sighed, “I’m exhausted; Mary needed Divination help, but it involved so much searching in the library - we needed five books - and then it turned out the Divination was based on Astronomy, so we had to look through Astronomy books, and now tonight we have to climb all the way up to the tower in order to see the Hercules constellation, which is apparently going to predict our future for the next three years if we look at it through purple lenses. Oh, this homework is also due in two days, I wasn’t there in the lesson, and Mary didn’t even tell me until now!”

That was what Sirius meant by ranting for no reason. It wasn’t about finding a solution, it was just about ranting. But James didn’t know that, and as expected, Sirius looked up to see James opening his mouth to provide Peter with a solution—

“POTTER!” Lily burst through the door, pausing for a brief second to glance at the three of them all curled up on the floor. Sirius thought he saw her smile fondly, but it vanished the second she looked at James. “You,” she wrinkled her nose, “are supposed to be in detention right now. With me,” she added begrudgingly.

“Oh!” James leaped off the floor, causing Sirius and Peter to roll towards each other. In shared misery, they slumped into one another, Sirius giving Peter a commiserating pat on the shoulder for his Divination struggle.

“I am honoured to have you overseeing my detention, Prefect Evans!” James gushed, following Lily out of the dorm. “In fact, this is a reward rather than punishment, that I get to gaze upon your radiant face for a whole hour…”

“You’ll be writing lines, Potter.”

“While you watch me…”

Peter and Sirius burst into laughter. When they settled down, they were slumping again. Peter poked Sirius’s side, “You know why I’m moping, what about you?”

“Remus,” Sirius sighed.

“Ah,” Peter replied.

“Yeah. It’s just, what if something goes wrong? Sure, I want to date him, but I love being his friend; that’s everything to me. Plus, friendship is superior to romance, I don’t wanna fuck that up just for a snog. I love being in his presence and breathing in the same air as him and listening to his voice and his thoughts and staring at him. I need his friendship, I want to date him. There’s a difference, y’know.”

“Yeah,” Peter patted his shoulder. “I know.”

Sirius smiled. “I know you know.”

Sirius kept talking, and Peter listened. Peter began talking, and Sirius listened. They didn’t go to each other for help, but for this.

- - -

Tossing and turning in bed, Sirius felt his thoughts fluctuating back and forth too, his brain flipping in his skull like a pancake, flopping and rising, pulling this way and that, should he do this or should he do that?

“Paddy foot,” James sang, climbing into bed beside him. “Padfoot, madfoot, sadfoot, radfoot—”

“Shut up, forkhead,” Sirius swatted him. His eyes glinted in the dark, and in an exaggerated accent he sang, “Forkhead, fockhead, fuckhead—”

James gasped, “Language!”

“Shut. The fuck. Up.”

“You shut the… frick up,” James retorted. Sirius snorted, and James muttered, “Swearing’s bad, okay?”

Sirius raised an eyebrow while James flushed. “Anyway,” he tried to change the subject. “Oh, yeah! You were being really noisy, flapping around on your bed like some kinda whale, mate.”

“I’m not a whale,” Sirius protested.

“Aw, it’s okay, my great big humpback,” James cooed. Sirius shot him a withering look, which also read as, what the fuck? James ignored him, continuing, “So now you’re fine with being a whale, what else is up?”

“Think I’ll confess to Remus,” Sirius whispered.

James lit up with excitement immediately, throwing his arms around Sirius. “That’s amazing,” he mumbled into Sirius’s shoulder, grin stretched across his face and pressing into Sirius’s skin as if permanently imprinting itself there.

- - -

“Okay,” Sirius clapped his hands. “This is the plan. While Remus is in the library, I’ll stand up on a table and yell, ‘I’M IN LOVE WITH REMUS,’ to everyone in the Great Hall. Then, the gossiping will start until it spreads to Remus, and he’ll know I’m in love with him! It’s flawless.”

“Er—” Peter shrugged. “Sure.”

“It’s so romantic,” James swooned. “He’ll come up to the dorm for clarification and you can be there holding his favourite chocolate while you tell him all the rumours were true, it’s adorable,” James squealed.

“Right?” Sirius agreed, jumping up and down next to James. It also meant that he didn’t have to admit it directly to Remus’s face - he could ease himself into it. First, rumours. Then, the truth. It would also ease Remus into it, make Remus’s perpetually overthinking brain more open to the idea that Sirius actually liked him back. First, rumours. Then, the truth.

- - -

“I’M IN LOVE WITH REMUS!” Sirius yelled from the top of a table. The whole hall froze for a second, before the chattering increased by tenfold.

Sirius felt goosebumps break over his skin, wobbling slightly as the nerves took hold of him again, but he maintained his position, standing atop a table with his chin jutting out, ruler of the whole rumour mill.

“Sirius Black!” McGonagall’s shrewd voice cut through the crowd. “Get off the table!”

He saluted her lazily, then nodded at James. “JIMMY BOY!” He took a running leap at him, landing wrapped around James’s body. Kissing his cheek, Sirius dramatically gushed, “Thank you, my dear saviour.”

James rolled his eyes while Peter laughed, and a few students looked at them curiously, muttering to their friends.

- - -

“Oh, chocolate,” Remus smiled as he entered the dorm, accepting the gift from Sirius’s outstretched hand. “Thanks, Pads.”

Sirius hesitated, “…No problem, Moons.”

Remus eyed him strangely, before addressing the whole dorm, “Are James and Peter here?” Upon hearing their names, the two opened the curtains around their beds.

“Yeah…?” James looked between Sirius and Remus. Peter and James had wanted to give them privacy for whatever confession they’d need to make, so why was Remus asking for all of them?

Grinning, Remus flopped onto his bed and sat up with gesticulating hands, “So, I was in the library, as usual, but then people were coming up to me asking if we’re all in a polycule? It’s pretty funny, they think ‘cause we’re so touchy, we’re now in a relationship?” he laughed. “Oh, and apparently we gaze at each other lovingly all the time,” Remus snorted. “We’re just the epitome of platonic love, so much that it’s borderline romantic.”

Sirius coughed, “I—”

“What—”

“That makes sense,” Peter agreed.

They looked at Peter incredulously. He raised his hands in defence, “I just agree to everything, okay?!”

James sighed, “Yes, and we love you for it.” He paused. “Oh… we do say ‘I love you’ quite a lot, don’t we?”

“Oh, yeah…” Sirius realised.

“Well, apparently we’re so madly in love with each other, the whole school knows. A couple Hufflepuffs were discussing the ways in which we shag while McGonagall was walking past, and y’know her usual no-nonsense, unreadable expression? I saw it crack,” Remus shook his head as if all was lost, his laugh almost sounding like a sob. “I had to shake my head at her like, no, of course that’s not true, and I can’t believe they’re discussing our sex lives!” he complained, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“It’s okay, Moony,” James clambered into the bed, Peter and Sirius following as they wrapped their arms around him.

“Yeah, some people still know the truth about your non-existent sex life, don’t worry,” Sirius reassured him.

“Like you can talk,” Remus swatted him pathetically.

“You know,” Peter hummed thoughtfully, “really, this calls for a celebration.”

“What?” Remus whipped his head towards him. “You want to celebrate the fact that people think we’re fucking?”

“Language,” James muttered hopelessly.

Peter hesitated, “I mean, if you want to celebrate that—”

“Pete,” Sirius whacked the back of his head. “You don’t need to agree to that, no one wants you to agree to that.”

“Oh, good,” Peter sighed. “No, Remus, of course we’re not celebrating that, you dumbarse.”

“Harsh,” Remus mumbled, while James carried on moping over the misuse of language.

Peter’s eyes widened, “Oh, sorry—”

“Get on with it, Wormtail!” Sirius interrupted.

“Right, yeah,” Peter nodded, “what I mean is, we should celebrate this new stage in our friendship!”

“That’s brilliant!” James cried, turning to Peter with large, adoring eyes. It did look like he was about to kiss him.

Sirius snapped his fingers, “What was it you said, Moony? We’re so platonic that we’re borderline romantic?”

Remus grinned at him, love written all over his face, “Yeah. Let’s celebrate that.”

“What if we were actually romantic?” Sirius pondered.

“Then the rumours would be true,” Remus shrugged, leaning into Sirius as Sirius leaned into James and James leaned into Peter and Peter leaned into Remus.

Sirius buried his face into Remus’s hair. He could make their relationship romantic later. Right now, the Marauders were everything already.

“So,” Sirius turned his head out of Remus’s curls to rest his cheek there instead. “How’re we gonna celebrate?”

The mischief alight in all of their eyes as the four of them grinned at each other was identical.

(for more: wolfstar microfics)

[swanmaids]

the care and feeding of an elven high king

for @tolkienekphrasisweek day 2, culinary arts. remix of @welcomingdisaster 's a note on the pecularities... ao3 link. this is a fic about trauma-induced eating disorders.

Many in Gondolin, from the servants to the lords, will say that His Grace the king was never the same since his crossing of the treacherous Ice; that he was so changed by its horrors that he became almost a completely different man. It has become something of a cliche within our city to say that Turukano of Tirion died on the Grinding Ice, and Turgon of Beleriand was born in his place. 

As for myself, I have never seen the Blessed Realm or the long march to Beleriand, and so I can offer little insight into who His Grace may have been before he reached the shores of Vinyamar where my people joined with his host. But I have no reason to doubt the words of those who did know him then. And If I were to ask one of them: how did he change? They would probably provide me with a great list of examples. The way he speaks to his friends and his subjects and his daughter, the way he carries himself, the way he sleeps, the way he eats. 

The latter is the only example that I have any kind of authority to speak on, but I would hardly be surprised as to its accuracy. From what I have heard of the bounties of Aman, it seems truly impossible to me that anybody could be presented with the spoils of the Great Hunter, the King of the Seas and the Sisters of the Earth, and still maintain the same austere diet that His Grace tasks me with preparing these days. 

Just how austere is that diet? His Grace has almost too many rules concerning what he will not consume for one to keep up with - and he is wont to change them on a moment’s basis - but over the centuries I believe he and I have come close to an understanding. 

First and foremost, His Grace will eat no meat nor fish, and requires that all of his meals be prepared separately from any meat or fish in the royal kitchens. He claims that even the smell and sight of it turns his stomach; and I am inclined to believe this, having witnessed myself an incident in which, when seated next to Her Grace the princess Aredhel while she ate a dish of venison, his skin turned clammy and his hands visibly shook. He did not even attempt to pick up his utensils, and left the table with his own plate totally untouched. 

Regarding what may have resulted in this particular peculiarity, I want to be clear that I have no wish to comment on the rumours surrounding what may or may not have occurred among the Noldor as they fought to survive the Ice. His Grace is a fair and just king, who treats his subjects of every station well, and has suffered a great many tragedies since the Noldor fled Aman. There is nothing to be gained by spreading salacious rumours that would only harm his good name. 

Let us instead return to my original topic. Meat and fish are not the only foods that His Grace refuses to eat - he would not be so unusual here in Gondolin if they were, though his aversion is stronger than most. Instead, His Grace is greatly concerned with only consuming that which he does not consider to be “unclean”, seemingly concerned that such “impure” foods will cause his person to become unclean from within. In practice, this has resulted in an aversion to milk, eggs, butter, yoghurt and cheeses, oils, sweets, pastries, many strong-tasting roots and spices, and excessive salt. His Grace despises appearing intoxicated in front of others, and will drink only a small amount of watered wine on special occasions. Coffee, however, he consumes frequently and in great amounts. 

I will admit that it has not always been easy to cook according to such rigid restrictions, but I should like to think that over time and with hard work, I have been able to reach some workable solutions. His Grace tends to favour simple meals, typically steamed grains and vegetables such as winter squash. Nuts are often eaten, and I try to include them in as many meals as possible for the extra energy they provide. Though His Grace eschews sweets, as previously mentioned, he is able to enjoy most fruits, and a dish of pears poached in almond milk is a favourite. This is quite doable, as the soils of Tumladen provide us with a rich bounty of fruits. If nothing else, the lembas baked by Her Grace the princess Idril is of course suitable, but I try to avoid this as much as possible as His Grace is wont to become agitated over the state of the city’s lembas stores. Yes - Gondolin may well be the fairest and most wondrous of all the elven realms, and the greatest work of His Grace’s hands, but the king’s table is one place where extravagance is firmly eschewed. 

I aim too to plan meals well in advance, for His Grace is known to ask me what I have planned for him to eat in the near future, and to become visibly unhappy if I cannot answer. 

As much as I can, I endeavour to serve His Grace within his private chambers,  with his daughter and his closest lords at most as guests, as he greatly dislikes eating in front of others. However, a king must, on occasion, feast with his subjects. During such feasts, His Grace has become very adept at performing the appearance of eating for his audience, while in reality consuming little to nothing. It is likely that I am one of very few citizens who has noticed this. Still, I do my best to help His Grace on such occasions. After last years’ Tarnin Austa , I sent a kitchen maid to His Grace’s chambers with a plate of figs and walnuts, so that he would not go to bed hungry. Finally, it is worth noting that His Grace’s particular anxieties regarding food and its consumption are not fixed, and are wont to wax and wane in severity. When the Eagle came to Gondolin and told us to prepare ourselves for an assault on our enemy, this goal seemed to energise His Grace and loosen the hold of some of his anxieties - I was even able to prepare small amounts of eggs and dairy to supplement his training at arms, as long as it was hidden within porridges and broths. But during times of tragedy, His Grace is known to become even more restrictive, to the point of what seems like self-punishment. For instance, in the aftermath of the horrible killing of Her Grace his sister, he undertook a weeks-long fast that left him exhausted and skeletal, spreading rumours and fear among the whole population. In the days after his return from the Fifth Battle, it was only due to his daughter pleading with him not to fast again that His Grace did not repeat this disastrous ritual.

Please do not mistake me here, however - Her Grace the princess Idril is quite often just as difficult to cook for as her father. In fact, if I were to describe her own peculiarities, we might be here all day.

[dmwrites]

Out in the ocean, there are many kinds of fish. Martyn and Scott, the self-named Mean Gills, took to spending their evenings on the Limited Life server pointing out new fish that swam in their waters. If wasn’t the most efficient use of their ever-decreasing life time, but it was enjoyable. The ocean was a mysterious place, and their little island base was prime for making new tropical discoveries. But sometimes, the discoveries found them first.

At first, it was just some food missing out of chests. Scott blamed Martyn, naturally, and Martyn blamed everyone else, but at the end of the day, the Bad Boys’ bread bridge existed for a reason, and that reason was to stead wheat off it it, so it wasn’t really that big of an issue. But then it was weird sounds- both Martyn and Scott kept hearing an odd humming noise, like someone was attempting to sing a song they didn’t know. There were also strange flashes of bioluminescence at night sometimes, which wove itself around coral deep down before vanishing completely. It was odd, but the Mean Gills mostly dismissed it all. Too much going on on the surface to really worry about what the ocean held.

Or so they thought.

It was Scott who saw him first- a dark head of hair and piercing blue eyes watching him as he planted some seeds one afternoon. Scott let out a yelp and scrambled for his bow.

“What’s up?” Martyn asked in concern, jumping down from his hourglass, sword raised.

By the time Scott had his bow in hand, the head was gone. Scott sighed crossly. “I swear I just saw someone with dark brown hair watching me.”

“Dark brown hair… who on earth could that be… Bdubs?” Martyn asked.

“No, this person was paler then Bdubs.”

“Scar?”

“Scar would have accidentally drowned.”

“True. Uhh, Joel?”

“Maybe.” Scott muttered. At that moment, Joel happened to be passing by on the shoreline, holding some raw beef, assumedly from team T.I.E.S.‘s base.

“Joel. You’re not wet from spying on us, are you?.” Scott called out to him.

Joel reacted in his own crude way. “What? Of course I’m not wet, you idiots. You two aren’t even handsome enough for me to be wet. Or even get in the water for you.”

“Ew.” Scott commented as Joel swagged off into the forest. There was an echoing giggle at that that sounded nothing like anyone they knew.

“Who was that?” Martyn cried, looking all around. “We heard you, fucker. Stop playing coy- just kill us if you’re jonesing for it!”

There was a moment of silence, and then a splash. A man appeared on their island, pulling himself until his arms and chest were resting on the grass. He smiled at them, giggling again.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it.”

Scott grabbed at Martyn, who pointed his sword at the intruder. “Who- what on earth are you, some kind of fish or something?”

“Or something…” the man smiled, and Scott and Martyn could see a few rows of sharp, pointed teeth. “I’m xB. Was just hanging out in these here waters, saw I had some new neighbors. Had to do a prank, it’s just good manners.”

“Do you live here?” Martyn asked, bewildered.

“I live where there’s water, really. And I assume this fun little place is yours?” xB glanced around, and as he did, a glittering tail slapped at the water behind him.

“Oh my god, are you a merman?” Martyn asked in wonder.

“Or something.” xB repeated, a small smile playing on his lips. “You can look at my tail if you want. Come in the water with me.”

“Sweet.” Martyn took off his shoes.

“Wha- Martyn, what are you doing? This could be a trap!” Scott said, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Sure, but if it is, I lose an hour. We still got a bit of time left on the bank, my friend. And if worse comes to worse, it’ll be a hell of a story to tell, I suppose.”

Scott considered that. “Fair.” He jumped into the water, Martyn followed, and they both ducked under the waves.

xB was a sight to behold, with the upper body of a guy in a black hoodie, and the lower half of some great fish. His scales were a shimmery dark blue, kind of similar to the sculk that the ancient cities was overrun with. He was clearly strong, as even the simple movement of his tail sent minor shockwaves through the water. Scott and Martyn stayed under the water, staring at this creature, until they both started taking damage.

“Hey Scott- team meeting?” Martyn said as soon as they were both back on the island, pulling Scott to the side. “So, what on earth do we do about this?”

Scott looked over at xB and clicked his tongue. “I mean, he’s cute. Not really my type, but cute.” Scott murmured.

“Same. But like, I dunno, I feel like I could make an exception every once in a while. Something about him. Maybe we could just kinda let him stick around for eye candy.”

“Ew, you fish fucker.” Scott joked, hitting Martyn’s arm.

“You’re one to talk… I’ve heard your stories from times gone past.” Martyn replied, chuckling.

xB just watched them with a gentle smile on his face, his tail waving lazily in the water behind him.

“I’m gonna be honest, I get the feeling he’s not going to just leave if we ask.” Scott said, bringing the conversation back around. “But, to be fair, he could be useful to us, if we play our cards right. Siren call our enemies into the ocean or something. Can he do that?”

“Maybe.” xB said slyly from the water.

“We love a man of mystery.” Scott said dryly.

“Alright, xB, you’re on the team. Welcome to the Mean Gills.” Martyn said.

“The what?”

——

In terms of alliances, it was an odd one. xB was more like a pet then anything, if a pet could make jokes like “Oh, so you have, like, an expiration date. Like food.” when learning about their life timers. He mostly hung out on rocks out a sea, or peered at them at the side of their island base. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, the way he looked at them from time to time, but he was funny and had a sweet giggle that echoed throughout the cove. He’d found out that Martyn and Scott thought he was going to lure them out to sea, which tickled him, and took to joking about it constantly.

“Oh my god. Scott, look at this, he’s definitely doing that on purpose.” Martyn said one mid-morning, looking out at the ocean with a hand shielding his eyes from the sun.

“Who?”

“xB. Come look.”

Scott sighed, walking over. “Martyn, I think you’re slut-shaming, he’s not showing off on pur- oh no, that’s definitely on purpose. Good lord.”

xB had draped himself onto a rock out at sea, warming himself in the sun. The deep blues and blacks of his scales shimmered with the water and the sun, and he had taken off his hoodie.

“Boo, you whore!” Scott called to him, cupping his hands over his mouth. xB just waved and giggled, a sound that carried all the way across the sea to reach them.

“I dunno, he does look good though.” Martyn muttered. “Like a damn siren’s call or something, forreal.”

“It’s just because Ren isn’t here, let’s be real.” Scott said loftily. Martyn pushed him into the ocean, and xB swam over to rescue him, which lead to a slew of jokes and laughter.

——

Unfortunately, the light days of jokes and warm ocean air were only sweet for so long. As timers ticked down, everyone became more desperate. Death was more devastating, and, after a while, permanent. Scott and Martyn didn’t escape this terror and bloodlust, of course, but they did find that their island was a bit of a safe haven- it seemed like they were forgotten about a lot of the time, and that was perfectly fine to the Mean Gills. xB helped as he could, bringing them fish to eat and humming his little songs to welcome them home. He also took to circling the island, watching for outsiders for them while they slept. Neither Scott nor Martyn spoke of it, but they both felt like they had a secret weapon in xB. They were protected, or as protected as anyone can be in such situations.

“One hour left for me, I’m afraid.” Martyn said quietly, on the day they knew would be the last. The Mean Gills’ final stand, they’d decided, would be here, on the island, with xB at their side. They didn’t know who was left, but had heard several explosions throughout the day.

Scott sighed, standing up and brushing off his pants. “I can’t just sit here and stare at you until you die. I’m going to go see if there’s anything left to loot. Maybe I can steal a kill or two and get you some more time somehow. Be safe, Martyn. I’ll be back before the hour is up. I promise.” Scott hugged Martyn tight. “xB, watch over him.”

“Of course.” xB replied softly, playing with the shoelace of Martyn’s shoe. He and Martyn watched Scott boat out to the shore, and vanish into the trees.

Martyn let out a long breath. “I can’t believe this is it. Like, less than an hour left. And all I can do is watch. It’s almost- it’s stupid, really. We are all controlled by these stupid numbers, and our options are to fight or just sit around and wait for death. How awful. I wonder if they’re satisfied- well, never mind about all that.”

“You know…” xB began. “There could be another way.”

“What?” Martyn looked down at xB, confused.

“You could die on your own terms.” xB said, maddeningly vague.

“How?” Martyn was wracking his brain, trying to imagine a world where he could tell the watchers to fuck off by defying them. That was more Scott’s area then his. xB said nothing, but dove into the sea. “Wha- oh my god, so now you play hard to get?” Martyn muttered, and dove in after him.

xB wasn’t far, just floating in place under the water, smiling at Martyn. Martyn would never admit it out loud, but the merman was really quite pretty, in his own way.

“It’s a noble thing, you know, to die to the sea.” xB said softly, taking Martyn’s head in his hands, rubbing one thumb gently across his cheek.

Martyn stared into those bright blue eyes, and suddenly, he understood. “I suppose it is.” Martyn replied, filling his lungs with water as he spoke. And he slowly drowned himself, one tick of damage at at time, until his body was still, only held up by xB’s hands.

Scott saw the message in chat and he choked out a moan of sorrow. He hasn’t even been there, too busy scavenging abandoned chests for any supplies for their final stand. Well, Scott supposed, only his final stand now.

He looked down at the timer on his arm. One hour left. He’d always been just one hour ahead of Martyn, a little bit luckier. He bit back some tears, urging himself to just keep moving, back to the base.

As soon as he emerged from the tree line that opened up into the island base, a gasp died in his throat. A body was floating face-up in the ocean. Martyn, clearly dead. His chest was gone, mangled so badly that Scott retched. His blood was slowly dyeing the ocean a cloudy red.

Scott put down a boat and rowed back to his island, the Coral Kids base, some kind of sick curiosity overtaking him. And then a head popped up beside Martyn’s, still chewing.

“Oh my god.” Scott jumped out of his boat just in time, as a huge tail cleaved it in half.

“I prefer xB.” Those clever blue eyes watched Scott’s every movement, and even though he didn’t dare get close to the edge of the land, he could see that xB’s beard and hair were littered with gore.

“You’re not some pretty mermaid, are you?” Scott said quietly.

“No.” xB chuckled. Another death message appeared in chat. Scott ignored it.

“You’re a shark.”

“I’m whatever you want to call me. Doesn’t matter. You haven’t got much longer. What, like an hour now?”

“No.” Scott lied.

“You could die on your own terms, you know. Isn’t that what you’re all about, Scott?The ocean saved you this whole time, and it can save you again. You don’t have to watch your death come.”

“Oh, what, so Martyn took control of his own destiny, huh?” Scott asked.

“Martyn died in my arms and the ocean’s embrace. Bit romantic, really. And isn’t that just what you want, Scott? A bit of fucked up romance?” xB giggled.

“I’m not- shut the fuck up. I’m not going to obey your siren’s call.” Scott pointed his bow at xB in rage.

xB shrugged. “Okay. I’ll just be here when you can’t stand it anymore.” And he began to swim, slowly circling the Mean Gills island, eyes locked on Scott. He wasn’t a protector at all, but a buzzard circling the beginnings of a carcass.

Thunder clap after thunder clap, Scott watched his friends’ death messages in chat. Martyn’s body floated listlessly in the water. And Scott cursed this world, cursed its rules, and cursed xBcrafted, because he was right. All Scott did was defy the rules the world tried to set for him. He didn’t have to die to a sword to the throat or a timer ticking down to zero. He and xB knew that.

“Damn you, xB.” Scott whispered, finally, and the words felt like some kind of terrible relief.

And so, with the remains of his life ticking down to the end, an end that he sought to control, Scott jumped, down into the water stained red, into the cool arms of a brutal, yet defiant, death.

[madsmilfelsen]

RUST ANON I READ BOTH OF THEM AND THEY WERE BOTH AMAZING 😭😭😭 PLS I BEG FOR MLRE CRUMBS OR ANYRHING RUST RELAted oR WRITTEN BY YIU

You know it’s funny because Chevy has me daydreaming about them at the grocery store so that will have to be written, I really need them to argue about fresh vs canned fruit and Rust to teach Sugar how to make sweet tea :(

I have some incomplete stuff that I started and thought 1. Lazy writing warm up that does nothing (Maggie going to Doumain’s) 2. this would never fucking happen (circa early 2012) and 3. This is entirely too horny to put in a chapter with already exceedingly long smut (post stabbing recovery) lmao so here they are

Sugar lost a coin flip and is on her knees under the bar for the afternoon. Rust does the bookkeeping for the next inventory order and Bob drinks himself face down onto the bar, the lucky bastard.

“Don’t forget to clear the lines,” Rust reminds her, too cheerfully, and disappears into the back room before she can tell him to go fuck himself. Sugar keeps scrubbing the fridge out, not stopping when she hears the front door open. Doumain’s can run on the honor system so she doesn’t get up to see which regular straggled in for their post-fishing refreshments.

“Excuse me? I’m looking for Rustin Cohle.”

“I don’t know anyone by that name, ma’am,” Sugar responds, voice echoing in the cool cavity she has her damn head stuck in until she can get the back corner clean.

“Oh,” she sounds disappointed, rather than irritated, which piques Sugar’s interest but not enough to look up. This woman, whoever she is, sounds polished and put together and Sugar doesn’t know why she’s in a place like this. “Well, if you see him—” Sugar stops herself from snapping at her— “will you let him know Margaret Sawy— Hart, Maggie Hart wants to talk to him?”

The bar rattles when Sugar bangs the back of her head hard enough to wake Bob. She’s holding the back of her head when she stands, meeting eyes so, so blue and wide in concern.

“Who’s the bird?” Bob asks, voice rough with sleep.

“Are you—?” Maggie asks as the same time.

Sugar can’t register either question and calls out, “Rust!”

Maggie quirks a brow that makes Sugar feel reprimanded enough to mouth a quick sorry, before patting Bob’s shoulder and tilting her head to the back room for him to follow her.

“I ain’t clearing those lines, you lost fair and—” Rust falls silent mid-step, halting in the doorway that was Sugar’s escape.

“Rust,” Maggie greets softly, “It’s good to see you.”

“Bullshit,” he replies, flat without any true menace. Sugar wants to be anywhere but here.

“I talked to Marty,” Maggie starts.

“I hear you talked to the cops, too,” Rust says, heavy with accusation, but he steps forward enough that Sugar can dart out.

“Yes, them, too,” she says. Sugar can feel Maggie looking at her when she pulls on Bob’s elbow. “How are you?”

“What’d Marty tell you?”

“Who is she?” Bob asks in the backroom, just out of sight.

“Maggie,” Sugar whispers back and his brows jump.

“He wanted to know what the police asked me about. He said he was helping you with something. That’s it. How long have you been back?”

“Hear you got a big house,” Rust says, choosing again not to answer her question, voice only slightly less hostile. “Marty says the girls are doing fine. That’s good.”

“Rust,” she says, the edge of pleading make Sugar and Bob exchange a look, “Just tell me it’s something that’s not gonna get him hurt.”

“Well, I can’t tell you that. It never sat right with me, and it doesn’t now, you asking me to lie to you about him. Now, get out of here. You’re classing the place up.” A stool scrapes the ground and the door opens and closes again but Sugar and Bob don’t move until Rust says, volume conversational, “Come on out.”

“You know how to hold a grudge, brother,” Bob comments first as he retakes his seat and Rust only grunts, watching the white SUV pull away before he grabs a bottle of whiskey and three glasses.

“I think I’m concussed,” Sugar mutters, rubbing the back of her head.

The lock jingles and Sugar looks up but doesn’t move from where she’s curled up. Rust swings his keys into his palm with a low whistle.

“What are you doing?” he asks, stopping mid step when he sees her on the couch.

“Reading.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Rust says with a shake of his head, walks over without taking off his boots to hook a finger into her necklace. When he pulls slightly Sugar sits up straighter. “Get down.”

The embarrassment is a show, unfolding her legs slowly and not looking away from him to not miss any further instruction. Sugar sits on her heels, chasten on her knees and at this level she notices for the first time her bed is a few inches shorter than his. She’s about to snip about how he should just crate her when he goes to work if he doesn’t want her on the furniture, but his hand curls around her necklace before she can open her mouth. The chain and clasp are sturdy, on purpose likely, with how easy it is for him to hold her down by it. His curled knuckles press down on the back of her neck until her cheek is on the floor and holds her there until the lesson takes root.

“Daax,” he says, not stern but firm enough for her to not move. Heat flushes her cheeks even as she relaxes further onto her forearms and she stays, just like he said. Sugar might find this degrading if it weren’t for the absence of tension as her entire self decompresses.

Rust moves some things around in the kitchen cupboards, ice hits glass, a liquid splashes. He returns without saying a word and Sugar can hear him take a drink after he sits down, his leg bends over her lowered shoulders, boot near her flat hand.

“Ts’uus.”

Sugar carefully sits back on her heels as he told her to do.

“‘Aani.”

Her first instinct is to stand but she swallows, putting her palm on the floor, one and then the other to crawl between his spread knees. She sits with her hands in her lap, poised to break at the first askance of compliance. Rust touches under her chin with a slight smile, “Gheli.”

Sugar can’t help it, she really can’t, when her hips cant forward— good.

Rust is awake and smoking already when she rolls over, her back to the room, sheets tight over the curve of her hip.

“Sugar.”

Her answer is a questioning hum.

“Can you do something for me?”

“What’s that?” she asks sleepily, rubbing her eye and twisting to look at him.

“Get on your hands and knees.”

He exhales, billowing and cloud-like, as she rises slowly, positioning herself as he requested, the sheet slips off and she’s bare. Sugar pushes her messy braid over her shoulder where it coils down her spine.

“Like this?”

“Yeah,” Rust confirms, taking his time in the next drag, “stretch your arms out, lower your chest— no, all the way, Sugar.”

Her eye, peeking over her bicep, doesn’t move from him.

“The fucking sight of you,” he mutters, “Now how can I keep you just like that?”

“What’s all this for?” Sugar asks, smile hidden behind her arm as she adjusts her hips.

“My health and safety,” he replies, deadpan, hand falling onto his stomach where the skin is still pink from having staples removed. Rust stands with a grunt, dropping his filter into an ashtray, before walking to Sugar’s bed. “Now, don’t move and just let me figure a few things out.”

Standing behind her, Rust pulls on one of her ankles and then the other until her knees are on the edge of her mattress. He yanks her hips back so her ass is where it’s supposed to be and smoothes his hands up her back, feeling her spine arch and stretch. Her body still loose with sleep in the morning sunlight. Rust covers her shoulder blades with his hands, holding them down into the mattress.

“Try pushing your hips back,” he says. She presses against his pelvis, the heat of her bleeding into his skin, and he smiles at the annoyed noise she makes against her sheets when she can’t move any further, “This might work— how much rope do we have?”

“I’m not some bitch who keeps killing her studs. I can stay still,” she promises with a laugh.

“You sound sure and all, honey, but it’s been, what, four weeks, now, and you’ve been eyeing me like you’re ready to pounce,” he states, standing straighter with his hands fitting to the curve of her waist. “Can you understand my trepidation of wrasslin’ you? I’m very fragile right now, Sugar.”

“The hell you are,” she scoffs, folding her arms and resting her cheek on her forearms while he rubs the heel of his palms into her lower back. “You moved a keg yesterday.”

“It was empty,” he argues, before he pushes her hips forward a few inches to look down between them, “have you missed me?”

“We’re together everyday.”

“That’s not what I mean—” Rust guides her hand to the wet spot on his briefs— “that’s you, honey.”

Sugar tries to hide her face but he’s already clocked the redness on her cheeks, light and splotchy between her shoulder blades.

[bettathanyou]

Hello, I’m not sure if you’re taking requests or not, but if so can we please get reader meeting Cedric’s parents for the first time? If you’re not taking requests i apologize.

Thank u for the request anon, this is quite the juicy prompt. Ironically I have an angst fic that's part of my slow burn Cedric fanfic series in my drafts that's exactly this LOL.

But for everyone's sake this will be wholesome. (This time lmao)

Also, my requests are always open so if you ever need more Cedric + reader content I'm your fish! 🐟

Enjoy <3

The early morning sun creeped through the crack between the curtains, the rich golden rays covering the wall of Cedric's workshop in a honey glow.

It made your tired eyes sting even further.

You let out a low groan of frustration, covering yourself in the blankets to shield you. You turn over, back to Cedric; your partner, who was still snoring gently next to you.

Even though your eyes felt itchy and dry from the prior sleepless night, your gaze can't help but soften at how adorable he looked.

His normally neatly combed hair was sticking out in all directions, which is no surprise as you found out quickly that he's a restless sleeper.

You delicately tuck a few unruly tufts of hair back into its rightful place, your eyes scanning Cedric's resting form.

His dark green undershirt contrasts greatly with his fair skin, which peeks out from the unbuttoned collar of his shirt.

Biting back a laugh, you plant a gentle kiss on Cedric's exposed collarbone.

Cedric's eyes flutter for a second, slowly opening as he mumbles something incoherent in his sleep driven state.

"Good morning to you too...?" You croaked, your voice more hoarse than you expected. You try to ignore it, but you knew Cedric wouldn't miss any detail when it came to you.

His body snaps from sluggish to alert in seconds. His props himself up with his elbow, his eyes immediately locking with yours.

"...Are you alright, darling?" Cedric asks, his amber eyes full of concern. You can see the cogs already turning in his head, but you quickly brush it off.

"It's too early for you to worry about things right now," you start, your hand finding his. Cedric says nothing, his gaze still searching you for answers.

With a small sigh, you relent and answer honestly.

"I'm fine, I promise. I just... Didn't get much sleep. It's a big day today, after all." You flash Cedric a nervous smile, and you watch the realization dawn on him.

"You're meeting my parents today..." Cedric trails off, his hand squeezing yours in comfort.

You nod in agreement, your eyes resting on Cedric's fingers that intertwine with yours. His thumb rubs against your knuckles in an attempt to soothe you, and you let out a sigh in contentment.

"I understand why you'd be nervous-" Cedric began, and you quickly cut him off.

"Yes- they're your parents, Ceddy. And their track record is not much better than mine." You eye him with a knowing smirk, and he scoffs in laughter.

"That's true; however, I feel like I must point out that your parents are much worse than mine." Cedric replies, eyeing you back.

Now it was your turn to laugh, raising your hand in surrender.

"True... but at least you'll never have to meet them." You shrugged, turning on your back as you stare at the ceiling in contemplation.

You can still feel Cedric's eyes on you, and you glance over at him. You couldn't quite tell the expression he wore, and it bugged you. You try not to squirm under his bright amber pools, but you knew it was futile to hide your discomfort.

Cedric suddenly shifts his body, inching more towards you. You react instantly, shuffling towards him lazily as you both entangle your bodies together. You both wrap your arms around each other, and Cedric's hands rub your back in soothing motions.

"I know today is going to be alot- so I understand why you're scared." Cedric reiterated, his voice low in your ear.

"I'm terrified, honestly." You confess, rubbing your face into his shoulder.

"I promise, they'll love you (y/n). If anything, meeting you is their dream come true!" Cedric's voice betrayed a smile, and you knew that if Cedric was able to speak confidently then you could trust his words.

Even so, the pit in your stomach still refused to calm itself. You let out another dread filled sigh, and you push your face away from Cedric's skin. Lifting your eyes to cautiously meet his own, you ask him the question that's been burning on your tongue.

"It's not that I don't believe you, but... What if I don't... Meet their expectations?" You say in a small voice, immediately breaking eye contact to fiddle with Cedric's loose collar.

Cedric snickers in response, but you knew it was in jest.

"Darling, that's what I'm saying- they had no expectations for me ever finding love..." Cedric trailed off, a slightly jaded undertone in his words.

"...And honestly, neither did I." Cedric adds softly, and you feel familiar lips graze your forehead.

You immediately feel the heat rush to your cheeks at his gesture, and you give him a gentle kiss on the cheek in return.

Cedric flashes you a dopey grin, silver locks falling in his golden eyes, and you feel your heart warm at the sight.

Without realizing it, you find a grin of your own stretching across your face.

"If you're worried about them holding you to the standards they set for me, I'm happy to tell you that's not possible. I'm not exaggerating at all when I say that you are everything they could ever ask for." Cedric proclaimed boldly, his hand cupping your chin so your eyes couldn't escape his own.

As you locked eyes, you realize that there was no hesitation or doubt laced in them. With no words left to dispute him, you're left speechless and caught in his gaze. Your eyes begin to shift around to Cedric's facial features you've already memorized, unabashedly drinking him in.

While Cedric was doing the same thing, he quickly tutted in disapproval.

"Ah, ah! Behave, you scoundrel. You should be resting those lovely (e/c) eyes of yours." Cedric scolded you, half jokingly.

"With you around, I'm not so sure about that." You smile cheekily, and you see the red blossom across Cedric's cheeks. He begins to choke on his words, earning a chuckle from you at his plight.

"W-Well, that's. I'm lo-looking out for your health!" Cedric squeaks out, and you bite your tongue to keep from laughing any more.

"You should really try to catch up on some sleep, (y/n)." Cedric repeats, his voice holding more conviction this time.

You knew that Cedric was right, and with your anxiety quelled for now, your body was now protesting for sleep to come.

"Alright... But you'll need to wake me up." You relented, already settling back into the plush mattress.

"Of course." Cedric nods dutifully, pulling the blanket up to your shoulders.

You close your eyes soon after, the weight of sleep pulling you into unconsciousness.

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

Later That Day...

Standing straight as a pin, you wait with bated breath besides Cedric as he knocks on the door to his parents home.

You didn't know much about Mystic Meadows, except the last minute details Cedric filled you in on. Apparently, it was a retirement community for retired sorcerers and sorceresses alike, all of them well renowned. Cedric mentioned his parents being particularly popular, which came to no surprise to you; Goodwyn, Cedric's father, being the right hand of the late King is sure to make you popular.

If anything, it just adds to the pressure weighing on you.

Looking around, you see a couple of lone elderly sorcerer's hobbling down the cobbled path to the main building. Your mouth quirks up into a small smile, seeing the banter between the two.

You're broken out of your trance by hearing footsteps shuffle behind the door in front of you.

Your eyes dart to meet Cedric's, expecting him to be as nervous as you feel. However, his gaze holds you steady- his amber eyes warm and lingering.

With your eyes locked in his stare, your anxiety quickly deflates. The relief doesn't last, however; you suddenly feel self conscious about how nervous you were previously acting. Your cheeks begin to light up like hot coals, and without a word you break eye contact.

You feel Cedric's eyes still on you, but you keep your eyes glued to the wooden door inches in front of you. The noise from inside grew louder- Cedric's parents would open the door any minute.

Heart thumping, you feel your skin flush even more. You almost don't notice Cedric's hand slinking into your own, but the familiar feeling of worn leather gloves against your finger pads brings you relief.

You exhale sharply, just as the door opens. You're welcomed by a stout woman with dark curly hair, cat-like eyes, and a strong nose. She was wearing an expensive looking blue gown adorned with glittering jewels, accented with a long necklace of pearls. The resemblance between her and Cedric were uncanny, and it amazed you at how much of the physical features you love about Cedric came from his mother.

This was Cedric's mother, "Winnifred the Wise" as her title goes. You strain to keep eye contact with the woman as you stand awkwardly.

"Hello, Mrs. Winnifred. It's nice to finally meet you." You flash her a strained smile, bowing your head slightly in respect.

"Oh goodness, I think we're already past formalities! Winnifred will do just fine." The older woman laughs warmly, and your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"Ah- of course. Sorry." You glance away sheepishly, tucking your hands behind you.

Winnifred chuckles, then turns towards Cedric with shining eyes.

"My darling Ceddykins, Mummy misses you so much...!" She cooed lovingly, quickly wrapping her arms around Cedric's lean frame. Cedric returns the gesture, bending down to meet his mother's embrace.

You stand to the side, a toothy grin stretching across your face at Cedric's pet name. His eyes flick to yours, and your smile only grows. Cedric raises a brow as if to challenge you to comment, and you wave him off with a chuckle.

"Yes mummy, it's good to see you too," Cedric mumbles into his mother's shoulder, gently letting go of her. His back straightens, amber eyes landing on the entrance to his parents home.

"Where's father, mum?" Cedric questions, his gaze fixed inside the house.

"Oh! He's in the back, finishing up (y/n)'s gift!" Winnifred turns towards you with bright eyes, her hands reaching to clasp yours. "Goodwyn told me to keep you two busy until he was done," Winnifred said with a wink, her lips twisting into a mysterious smirk.

"Oh, thank you so much...!" The words clumsily tumble from your lips, betraying the shock you felt at the kind gesture. You stare at Winnifred with widened eyes, unsure of what to say next.

Winnifred smiles at you kindly, then laughs.

"Don't thank us just yet, (y/n). This is only the beginning, darling." She states with a firm squeeze of your hands, her eyes boring into yours. You felt your heart warm from her hospitality, and without a word you squeezed her hands in return.

Winnifred then broke away, gesturing for the both of you to come inside her home. She chatters away to Cedric about recent events, the two of them catching up since they last spoke. You all sat down on the plush furniture of the living room, with Cedric's mother claiming a well worn chair, across from you and Cedric on the loveseat.

You were quite fine with the arrangement, as the idea of talking to Cedric's parents still intimidated you. Sitting down and observing was well within your comfort zone, and the banter between the two was entertaining on its own.

"Mummy, as much as I appreciate the thought, I am a grown man-" Cedric enunciated, exhaling sharply as his fingers pressed into his temple. You chuckled lowly, curiosity edging you to tune into their conversation again.

"No mother will ever see their child as grown, Ceddy." Winnifred gives Cedric a pointed look, leaning her weight on her hip. Cedric huffs in response, laughing dryly. Winnifred's face softens a little, and she walks up to pinch Cedric's cheek affectionately.

"You'll know what I mean once you have some children of your own." Cedric's mother says with a knowing smirk, her eyes shifting over to you. You almost flinch from the eye contact, and you scramble to form any response to her implications.

"Oh- we haven't... Planned on that, yet." You mumble, running your hand through your hair nervously. In fact, you and Cedric had both agreed that children weren't *in the plan* whatsoever. Even so, stating that towards eager in-laws on your first meeting made your head spin and your palms slick with sweat. Your eyes tear away from Winnifred's gaze, darting to Cedric's in a silent plea for help.

Cedric was already alert, his hand instinctively resting on the small of your back for support. The heat from his fingers seeped into your flesh, keeping you grounded as your heart stills. You turn your head to give him a thankful look, and Cedric glanced over you with a ghost of a smile.

Turning towards his mother, he tutted as if she were a child being scolded.

"Sorry mother, you know the rules. Every time you ask, we'll add another 5 years!" Cedric threatened his mother in a cheery voice, yet his eyes were cold and serious.

Winnifred scoffed in protest, crossing her arms over her chest. The two exchanged hard looks, a silent argument being fought with their eyes alone. You glanced over to catch Cedric's eye, but you found them to be unwavering against his mother. You felt an immense wave of gratitude wash over you at Cedric's resolve, and your hand quietly slipped into his own with a reassuring squeeze.

Just as the tension was boiling over, a loud ding! made everyone nearly jump out of their skins. Winnifred's eyes glazed over in confusion, then widened in recognition.

"The cake- I completely forgot!" She rushes over to the kitchen, her wand already up in the air. You slowly let out the breath you didn't know you were holding, feeling your body deflate a little bit.

You wearily look over to Cedric again, wearing an equally tired expression. Without thinking, you nudge him gently. His body immediately snaps over to give you his full attention, his eyes lighting up upon resting on you.

"...Thank you, luv." You murmur, eyes softening as you stare into his amber pools. You wish you could say more, but you can only hope Cedric understands the full extent of your thanks with what you left unspoken.

"Of course, darling." Cedric gives you a knowing wink, leaning over so his cheek was pressed up against yours. You nuzzled your face closer to his, your lips barely brushing against Cedric's warm skin. You felt him flush, and a smile carved its way on your face.

Before you could readjust to properly kiss him, however, Winnifred both called you over.

"Alright (y/n), I need your help darling! And you too, Ceddykins!" Winnifred exclaimed, standing expectantly beside the kitchen counter.

You both glanced at each other incredulously, but slowly got up and shuffled towards the overpowering sweet smell of the cake. The dessert had just come out of the oven, steam wafting from the golden baked good.

Your eyes expertly scanned the cake, noting that it was well made and smelled as good as it looked.

"How can we help?" You asked, doubtful that you or Cedric would be able to help when it was clear his mother knew what she was doing. Her eyes meet yours, addressing you with an excited voice.

"I need you to fetch Goodwyn, while Cedric and I put the magical finishing touches on your cake. We can't ruin the surprise, after all!" Winnifred flashes you a wink, then turns to Cedric and ushers him closer to her side.

You stare at Winnifred in bewilderment for a moment, anxiety making your skin flush. You were dreading speaking to Cedric's father most of all, and now you'll have to face him alone with no Cedric to come and save you.

You exhale a shaky breath, feeling a little light headed. You didn't even know where to go to find Goodwyn, and yet somehow you were deemed fit for the task at hand.

You stand awkwardly, watching Winnifred and Cedric roll up their sleeves in preparation. They both had their wands out now, with Cedric bearing his family wand high in the air.

"Ah- where is Goodwyn, again?" Your voice cuts through their concentration like handling a blunt knife, awkward and hesitant.

"Oh good heavens, forgive me!" Winnifred exclaims, her brows shooting up in apology.

"He's in the back dear, just a straight shot down the hall and out the back door." Winnifred gives you an encouraging smile for a moment, then dismissing you as she turns back to the task at hand.

"Right..." You mutter, trudging through the house. You slowly glance at the pictures adorning the hallway, chuckling at the awkward smiles of a young Cedric with his family.

It wasn't long until you reached the back door per Winnifred's instructions. The door had a window cut into its sturdy wooden frame, and through it you see an older man outside. He stood in a well landscaped patio, exotic plants framed all around him. Well crafted benches, tables, and chairs are neatly positioned off to the side, with Goodwyn standing in a mini workshop of sorts to the opposite end.

Seeing the man in person makes your body freeze up, with the previous worries about him rearing its ugly head again. You let out a low groan of dread, your hands covering your face as you rub your eyes. After taking in a few deep breaths, you peel your hands away and set your eyes on Cedric's father once more.

In your frozen state, you unintentionally watch Goodwyn work. It seems that Cedric inherited his feverish work style from his father, as the older man bumbles around his work space for ingredients and haphazardly sets them in any nook of free space available.

You let out a small laugh, your heart tickled by the glimpses of Cedric shining through from his parents. Before you could relish in the merry thought, Goodwyn immediately turns around to the source of your laughter, his keen eyes locking with yours.

You gasp, eyes widening with horror. You open your mouth to speak, but the words instantly die on your tongue. With no defense left, you're resigned to standing there slack jawed and looking like an idiot in front of your future father-in-law.

Great.

"My wife scared you off that quickly, eh?" Goodwyn calls to you with a wry smile, his booming laugh carrying through the breeze.

You bark a forced chuckle, but refuse to give an answer. If only he knew that he was the only one you've been trying to avoid all day. With shaky hands, you push the door open and step outside to properly greet him.

As if on cue, a strong breeze pushes against your back, as if prodding you to continue stepping forward. Wind chimes hung up on the roof tinny as you march on, their comforting sound granting you courage.

The man watches patiently as you stride towards him, his eyes watching you with a gleam of curiosity. Darting your eyes away from his gaze, you finally stop and muster up your voice to speak.

"Quite the opposite, in fact. She told me to fetch you for the cake she baked for me." You say slowly, trying your best to conceal your nervousness.

"Hmph- and I told her to keep you busy until *I* was done with your gift." Goodwyn states simply, adding a pinch of dried herbs to the concoction he was brewing. You laugh awkwardly, rubbing your neck as a long silence stretches out between you both.

You watch as he stirs the potion in front of him, scanning the materials littered around the couldron to make sense of what he was making. Even though you picked up quite a bit about magic from Cedric, you were unsure of what exactly this potion was. Many ingredients were unfamiliar or unlabeled, which left your brows furrowed in contemplation.

Goodwyn seemed to pick up on your confused gaze, his lips twitching into a ghost of a smile.

"Any ideas so far, (y/n)?" Goodwyn questions you, his hand gesturing to the bubbling brew.

Your eyes flick up to his once more, and you feel self conscious. Your mind races to form a coherent thought, but the thought of being tested against the greatest living sorcerer in Enchancia made your mind go completely blank.

"I... I'm not sure." You uttered shamefully, hugging your middle in an attempt to calm yourself.

You feel Goodwyn staring at you, and you had to fight your body from fidgeting any further under his gaze. He finally hums noncommittally in response, back to stirring the potion as he adds another ingredient into it.

"Well then, I'll allow myself to give you a hint- this potion has no counter spell, because it doesn't need one." Goodwyn smiles in satisfaction of his riddle, humming a tune while he works.

"No counter spell?" You choke out in surprise, eyeing the mysterious liquid with trepidation. A million questions blitzed through your head, the main one being why Goodwyn would give you a potion that couldn't be undone if things go awry.

What kind of gift would an in-law give that they wouldn't want to be undone? A few unsavory answers immediately popped into your brain on instinct, but you shake them away. The man was named Goodwyn, for Merlin's sake.

You felt a sense of shame at the suspicion that arose from your mind, but nonetheless tried to think logically.

Just as you saw Goodwyn's mouth open to speak, the solution popped to the front of your mind, clear as an Enchancia summer day.

"A blessing...?" Your voice wavers with uncertainty, but in your core you knew your guess was true. Goodwyn's stern face breaks out into a genuine smile, lighting up every crevice of his wrinkled cheeks.

"Very good, (y/n). I knew my boy would wed someone sharp." Goodwyn nods to himself, his smile now turning into something more smug. You thank him sheepishly, and he nods in affirmation.

Looking at the simmering potion, you ask him the question that's lingering at the forefront of your mind.

"What kind of blessing is it?" You ask in a slightly more confident voice, staring deeply into the murky liquid.

"Ah- getting a bit ahead of ourselves, are we?" Goodwyn tutted, wagging a finger at you. You scoff, confused and slightly annoyed at his vagueness, but maintain a neutral look on your face.

"What do you mean?" You reply, your eyes shifting around his cluttered workspace as a distraction.

"...Do you know why Winnifred and I chose the name we did for Cedric?" Goodwyn spoke tentatively, an uncommon hesitancy in his voice.

You pause, your brain still processing Goodwyn's unexpected question. You weren't sure where the conversation was heading, which made you hesitate answering him further.

Even so, your curiosity always gets the better of you.

You look up from the table you were studying to meet Goodwyn's eyes. They were somber, with a hint of wistfulness that made you feel strangely melancholy.

"Why did you?" You cautiously squeezed out, tucking your hands behind your back.

"The name Cedric means "loved," where we come from." The old sorcerer pauses, grabbing an empty glass beaker and breaking its seal with a satisfying pop.

You feel your heart melt just a touch from the revelation, yet you remain silent.

Taking that as permission, Goodwyn continues speaking.

"I knew from the moment Cedric was born, he would bear a heavy responsibility as my heir; holding a candle to my accomplishments is no easy feat, after all." He laughs, but you don't reciprocate his humor.

"Yes, I know; Cedric struggled to come to terms with that." You agreed cautiously, unsure if Goodwyn was getting to a point or if this was some attempt to chastise Cedric while he's not around. Your body tenses, and your eyes narrow as you await his following words.

"Indeed- he did for a long time..." Goodwyn trailed off with a sigh, eyeing you with a complicated look. You can clearly see the pain in his eyes, and suddenly Goodwyn seems more... tired, and frail, than the paintings adorned in the castle back home portrays. It was if this was a glimpse into the real man behind the legend, and you dared not blink in case you were imagining it.

You continue to lock eyes with the old sorcerer, searching for any other discernable emotions. Surprisingly, he breaks eye contact first.

"You know, people say names are the first blessing you receive in life; that they have the power to shape your destiny." Goodwyn continues, staring at his reflection that rippled in the cauldron.

"Regardless, Cedric's destiny was already written for him- being born into the Goodwyn line, and all..." Goodwyn's eyes darken, and you feel a prick at your heart.

Shaking his head, he prattles on.

"With that said- the only thing Winny and I could do was give him a constant reminder that he is loved; no matter what life had in store for him." Goodwyn finished with a bittersweet smile, his eyes lowering to grab an eyedropper on his work bench.

Sucking up the dark liquid, he carefully drips it into the beaker with practiced hands. You watch the process wordlessly, feeling like Goodwyn still had more to say.

"Now, after all these years, it seems like our humble blessing has finally come to fruition. I can rest easy knowing after we're gone, Cedric will be loved for years to come." Goodwyn's eyes flick towards you for a moment, and all you can offer is a sappy smile.

Glancing back down at the beaker, he hums in satisfaction with his handiwork.

Sealing the opening with a cork, the sorcerer offers you his gift.

"Now, I'm just returning the favor," Goodwyn whispered, his eyes crinkling as he flashed you a smile.

"...Thank you, Goodwyn." You accepted the potion gently, cradling it in your hands. Looking down at the potion in front of you, you felt a soft hum emanating from your body in reaction to it. Your skin felt like it was buzzing, and there was a growing ringing in your ears the more you looked at it.

Shaking your head to break you from your trance, your eyes met Goodwyn's again.

"You still haven't told me what this blessing is, exactly." You remind him with a gentle smile, and he shakes his head as he chuckles.

"Ah, you let an old man rant and rave for too long; my apologies." Goodwyn bows his head towards you, and you assure him it's fine.

Goodwyn raises his head again, a playful glint now in his eyes.

"A blessing can be used for whatever your heart desires. It will listen only to your intentions, so use it with a clear mind and a full heart. Everything else will fall into place, my dear." Goodwyn clapped you on the shoulder heartily, and a slow smile creeps along your cheeks in response.

It seems that you misjudged horrendously, and now you feel torn between thanking him and apologizing for your misconceptions. As you scramble to articulate your thoughts, you almost miss Goodwyn turning back and heading towards the house.

Sensing you weren't following, Goodwyn glances back to you.

"May I remind you, you have a cake waiting?" He calls out, a brow raised expectantly.

"Yes, of course!" You call back eagerly, pushing off from your idle position to rush to Goodwyn's side.

Standing shoulder to shoulder, your eyes meet again.

"Ready?" Goodwyn asks, offering you his arm.

"As I'll ever be." You reply with a cheeky smile, linking your arm with his own.

Both of you make a straight shot for the quaint cottage, your heart soaring with excitement and love for the new family you found yourself being a part of.

[meganwritesfanfics]

All I Need to Know (Don’t Know Much Series)

Previous Part Next Part

Trigger Warnings: Talk of violence and blood.

Spoilers for The Last of Us tv show

“You are missing out on all the fun!” Joel called from the water. 

“I am having plenty of fun over here thank you very much!” Y/N called back as she lay on the beach. The sun was warm on her exposed skin. Her two piece bathing suit showed off her bump. For only being about 4 months along she had really started to pop. 

“Mom, come on.” Sarah giggled as she chased after Tommy who dove into the water. 

“Vikki really wants Mommy to come play.” Joel called again and Y/N leaned up on her elbows and watched and he held onto the two year old who was splashing around. 

“Mama!” She called as Joel set her little feet on the sand and she raced towards Y/N. 

“Come here baby.” Y/N giggled as she sat up and reached her arms out. She scooped up the little girl and started kissing her cubby cheeks. The laughter melted Y/N’s heart. Victoria looked so much like Joel, her smile, her cute little nose, and her dark brown curls. Y/N hoped that all of her children would look just like Joel. 

“Can I play with Vikki in the water?” Sarah asked as she walked up to Y/N. 

“Of course, just keep an eye on her, this little one likes to think she is a fish.” Joel laughed as he plopped down on the sand next to Y/N. 

“You want to play with sissy.” Y/N said and the toddler nodded. 

“Sarah!” She said as she reached her arms around and Sarah scooped her up. 

“We have done good Mama.” Joel said as he reached over and laid his hand on Y/N belly. 

“We really have.” Y/N said getting emotional. 

“Hey?” Joel asked his eyes quickly filling with concern. “What wrong?” 

“Hormones,” Y/N joked. “And also I am just so happy.” 

Joel laughed but he moved in closer. “You have made me the happiest man in the world Y/N. Every day I wake up and I can help but smile.” 

Now the waterworks really started. “Joel, you are making me cry, this isn’t fair you know my emotions are just a mess with this baby.” 

“I know something that could fix that.” He said seductively, as he leaned in and kissed Y/N’s neck. 

“Oh I bet you do Mr. Miller.” Y/N said as he eyes fluttered closed. 

Suddenly she felt Joel hoist her up and her eyes snapped open. 

“Joel!” She screamed as he carried her towards the water. “No!” 

“Alarm!” Y/N heard a voice say and it broke her out of her day dream. 

She had been making coffee when she got lost in her thoughts. It had been less than 6 months since she had lost the baby. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away. Today was not going to be a sad one, it was going to be one of celebration. It was Joel’s birthday after all. 

Sarah was down in the kitchen long before Joel, which was not unusual as either her or Y/N were usually the ones to wake him up. 

“Good morning sweetheart,” Y/N said as she walked over to the fridge and poured out a glass of orange juice for herself and for Sarah. 

“Pour one for dad too,” Sarah said as she reached around and grabbed eggs from the fridge and walked over to the stove. “He needs some Vitamin C. I swear his blood is nothing but coffee.” 

“He is so lucky he has two wonderful women in his life who take care of him.” Y/N smiled. 

“I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to survive without us.” Sarah giggled as she cracked an egg into the pan. 

“Just a heads up, he totally forgot to pick up pancake mix.” Y/N said as she sipped her orange juice. 

“Seriously, I was going to make him birthday pancakes.” Sarah sighed. 

“Hey, how about I make us birthday pancakes for dinner. Your dad probably won’t be home anyway and then we can celebrate his own birthday without him.” Y/N laughed. 

“Sounds like a plan. Oh I won’t be able to ride with you to school today, I have to go get dad’s present.” Sarah continued as she turned back to the stove. 

Y/N reached into the fridge and grabbed out the bacon before returning and standing next to Sarah. 

“Have you given him your present?” Sarah asked and Y/N thought about the package she had stored in the hall closet covered by some luggage that no one had touched in ages. 

“No I figured I can give it to him tonight when we have cake.” Y/N said. 

Joel made his way down the stairs, and Y/N turned to look at him. Even after all the years that they had been together, Y/N couldn’t help but get butterflies in her stomach every time she saw him. Even if he was wearing his shirt inside out. A fact that Y/N was preparing to tease him about relentlessly. 

“Well if it isn’t the birthday boy.” Y/N smiled. 

“Well if it isn’t my two beautiful girls.” Joel smiled as he kissed Y/N. 

“We were going to make pancakes but someone forgot to pick up the pancake mix.” Sarah chimed in. 

“You know, I don’t even really like pancakes.” 

“They weren’t for you, they were for me and mom.” Every time Sarah called her mom, Y/N couldn’t help but smile. 

Joel had made his way over to the coffee machine when Y/N quickly grabbed his arm. 

“No, Dr. Sarah over here requests that you have some orange juice before your coffee this morning.” Y/N laughed as she placed the glass in his hand. 

Joel stuck his tongue out at Sarah and she did the same. 

By the time they had gotten breakfast all ready, Y/N knew she only was going to be able to stay for a little while longer before she had to get to school. 

“How old are you in anyway,” Sarah asked. 

“Thirty-six,” 

“Gonna half to wear diapers soon.” 

“Who says I’m not already.” 

“And on that note, I’m going to head out.” Y/N said as she picked up her plate and walked towards the sink.  It was then that she heard the garage door opening. 

“Is there enough for Uncle Tommy?” Joel asked. 

“There would have been.” Sarah laughed. 

Y/N sighed as she watched Tommy come in. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Tommy, she loved him, he was like a little brother to her as well. But Tommy always found a way of getting himself into trouble, and by getting himself into trouble, he expected Joel to bail him out. She couldn’t count the amount of times Joel had had to go out in the middle to the night to bail Tommy out. Not to mention he absolutely depended on Joel for everything. 

“You’re still alive, you old fucker.” Tommy laughed as he patted Joel on the back and made his way towards the fridge. 

“Aw, he loves you.” Sarah teased. 

“He’s dependent on me. Not the same thing.” Joel said as he made eye contact with Y/N. Tommy was the one constant thing in their relationship that caused them to fight. 

“I think it’s the same.” Sarah chimed in. 

“It’s definitely the same.” Tommy laughed. “Morning Y/N.” He smiled as he pulled open the fridge. 

“Good morning Tommy,” Y/N said. “Promise me you will convince your brother to come home early since it is his birthday.” 

“You and I both know that the only person who can tell Joel what to do is you.” 

“Hey!” Sarah exclaimed her mouth full of eggs. 

“Sorry babygirl, Tommy’s right. You may have me wrapped around your finger, but whatever Y/N says goes.” Joel smiled as he made his way over to Y/N and gave her a big kiss. 

“Well then birthday boy, I expect you home at a reasonable hour, and with cake.” Y/N smiled as she ran her fingers through his hair. 

“Woman, are you making me buy my own birthday cake.” 

“Well seeing as you forgot to buy pancake mix…” She teased. 

“Alright alright.” 

“Now I’ve got to get to work but I will see you tonight.” Y/N kissed him again before she turned and walked towards the garage. 

“Wait,” She heard Joel call and his hand wrapped around her wrist pulling her back into him. “I love you.” He kissed her again hard. 

“I love you too Joel.” She beamed but her mind drifted back to her daydream and her heart broke a little. As she opened the door to leave she called back over her shoulder. “Your shirt is inside out.” 

“Shit,” She heard Joel say and she could hear Sarah laughing as she shut the door behind her. 

*******

The day dragged on, all Y/N wanted to do was be curled up on the couch with Joel and Sarah watching some shitty movie, but she had to work. School was still rough because it was the first couple of weeks of classes so most of the students were still on summer time. Over the lunch break all the teachers were huddled together in the teacher lounge talking about everything that was going on in the news, She knew that what they were talking about was thousands of miles away, but still she couldn’t help but feel a knot growing in her stomach, as if it knew that something terrible was bound to happen. 

Luckily after lunch, most of the students were in a food coma, so they had calmed down a bit, which made the afternoon go by much faster. She spent an hour or so after school grading papers, before she made her back home. It usually only took her about 30 to 45 minutes to make it home depending on traffic. But for some reason it took her almost 2 hours. And it seemed like there were cops everywhere; racing down the street, parked in front of stores, and houses. By the time she reached the house her nerves were shot. 

“Sarah,” She called when she got in the house. But when she saw that all the lights were off, and there was no Sarah sitting on the couch the knot in her stomach grew even larger. “Sarah!” 

She dropped all of her bags on the floor and ran upstairs, her heart racing. As she peered inside Y/N found the room empty, and her heart dropped. 

Just as she was about to pull her phone out and call Joel she heard the front door open. 

“Y/N you are never going to guess what I found at the Adler’s Dad is going to…” Sarah started when Y/N rushed down the stairs and pulled her into her arms. “Woah what’s going on?” 

“I’m sorry, things were so weird and when I came home you weren’t here and I panicked.” Y/N gasped as she held onto Sarah tightly. As she backed away she quickly wiped the tears out of her eyes. “I’m sorry, sorry. What were you saying you found?” 

Sarah smiled as she held up the dvd. Curtis and Viper 2. One of Joel’s favorites. 

“Ugh no!” Y/N teased. “Do you know how many times your dad has made me watch this?” 

“It’s that bad huh?” 

“Oh it’s so bad, but I think your dad will be so excited to introduce you to it!” 

“Too bad he is going to be home late?” 

“What?” Y/N sighed. 

“He said he was going to work a double, but he would be back by nine.” Sarah said as she made her way over to the couch. 

“Yeah, we will see about that.” Y/N said as she picked up her bag and carried it over to the couch to sit with Sarah. “Do you have any homework?” 

“Nope got it all done.” Sarah said but she couldn’t help but smile at the lie. 

“God we need to work on your pokerface girlie, you are never going to be able to lie about anything to your father and me with a face like that.” Y/N laughed. “But it is Friday so I guess I will let you off the hook. You were probably planning on just made panicking Sunday night right?” 

“It’s what I do best.” 

Y/N sat with Sarah on the couch grading papers while Sarah flipped through channels. 9 came and went and Sarah had pulled out a magazine while Y/N watched the news, the fear filling back up as she watched different reports about the violence spreading around the Austin area. She tried her best to keep that fear off her face, she didn’t want Sarah to get worried. 

“Joel is just running late, as usually he will be home any minute.” Y/N thought. 

As the time inched closer to ten and the news reports got worse, Y/N could feel her hands shaking. Something felt wrong, she couldn’t exactly say what, but she was just filled with this feeling of absolute dread. 

When she heard the keys in the lock, she almost cried. She reached forward for the remote and shut off the tv as Joel his way towards the couch, sitting inbetween her and Sarah. 

He said down and laid back placing his hands on his eyes. This is the way most nights ended for the Miller family. Joel worked himself so hard during the day that he came back exhausted, and late. Y/N reached her hand behind him and began to gently rub his back. 

“It’s 10,” Sarah replied. 

“I know.” Joel sighed, “They gave us the wrong size for the headers,” He leaned forward to take off his boots and Y/N leaned forward to help. “Thanks darlin,” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “That doesn’t mean anything to you Sarah, I’m sorry.” 

“Where’s the cake?” Y/N whispered as quietly as possible. 

“Shit,” Joel said placing his head in his hands. 

“Come on man,” Sarah exclaimed. 

“I’ll get us one tomorrow.” 

“Swear or you don’t get your present.” 

Joel sat up and looked at Sarah eyes wide. 

“You got me a present?” 

“Mom did too, but we aren’t going to give it to you unless you swear.” 

“On my life.” Joel said. 

Sarah smiled. “Do you want to go first or should I?” She asked Y/N. 

“You go first, I’m going to move these toxic hazards somewhere else and then grab my gift.” Y/N laughed as she grabbed Joel’s boots and walked them back to the hall. She could hear Joel and Sarah laughing. For some reason as she grabbed the small present and the note from the closet she felt nervous. It was silly to feel nervous, her and Joel had been together for going on ten years. And everything she had written in this note were things they had expressed to one another so many times. But compiling it all into one note had been very emotional for her. 

Ever since they lost the baby, things between the two of them had been rockier than they had ever been in the past. It wasn’t bad, but it was different. Especially because Joel wanted to try again. He would never push her, that wasn’t the type of man Joel was, but he would gauge her thoughts on the idea. She wasn’t ready, and at the time she didn’t know if she would ever be ready again. Not if it meant she would have to face the idea of losing a child again. But time had passed and she felt her heart had healed enough. 

She made her way back towards the couch where she found Joel putting on the watch. 

“Now I know I can’t top Sarah’s gift. But here is one I think we will all enjoy.” But as she was handing over the present she grabbed the note from off the top and slipped it into her back pocket. 

She took her place next to Joel as he opened up the crudely wrapped present. 

“Who helped you wrap this, Tommy?” Joel laughed and Y/N smacked his arm. 

Inside was a Pearl Jam T-shirt with the cover of Joel’s favorite album on it. 

“Oh sweet thank you!” Joel said and he leaned over to give Y/N a kiss. 

“Wait, that isn’t it!” Sarah squealed excitedly. 

“You have to unfold the shirt.” Y/N responded. 

Joel gave her an inquisitive look but he did as he was told and three small slips of paper fell out. 

“Holy shit!” Joel exclaimed and Sarah laughed. “You got me tickets to Pearl Jam!” 

“Well technically I got all of us tickets to Pearl Jam but yes, they are in Dallas in the summer and I figured you would…” She started when he quickly pulled her in for a kiss. 

“How did I get so lucky.” Joel said as he put his arm around Y/N and Sarah and pulled them into him. 

“Can’t breath! Losing oxygen!” Sarah laughed. “Oh there is one more thing.” 

Y/N groaned playfully and Sarah pulled out the dvd from behind the pillow and Joel gasped as he grabbed it from her. 

“Borrowed it from the Adlers.” 

“Oh this is the one with the deleted scenes.” 

“Yeah imagine how bad those have to be.” Sarah laughed. “C’mon pop it in while it’s still your birthday.” 

Joel stood up and placed the dvd in the player before he sat back down on the couch and both Y/N and Sarah cuddled up to him. 

“Don’t fall asleep.” Joel teased. 

“Course I won’t, it’s too riveting.” Sarah said. 

In less than an hour Sarah was out curled up with her head in Joel’s lap. If it hadn’t been for the note sitting in her pocket Y/N would have been out cold to. 

“Joel,” Y/N whispered not wanting to wake Sarah. “I have one more present for you.” 

“Y/N, you didn’t have to get me anything, you and Sarah are all I need.” Joel said. 

“Will you just hush and read it.” She said as she handed him the paper. 

Joel gave her a curious look before he unfolded the paper. He smiled when he started reading it but the smile quickly faded. Y/N felt her heart stop when Joel shifted Sarah carefully off his lap as he stood up still holding the note as he read it intensely. 

Y/N didn’t even know what to say as she stood there waiting for Joel to finish. She watched as he folded the paper back up his hands shaking slightly. He looked up at her tears in his eyes. 

“Y/N, this is…” He cleared his throat. “This is beautiful, I don’t… I don’t know how I got so lucky as to find you.” 

Y/N could feel her own eyes welling up with tears. “You are going to make me cry, stop it.” 

Joel pulled her into his arms holding her tightly. “I love you Y/N, so god damn much.” 

“I love you too Joel. And I meant what I said, I’m ready to start trying for a baby again.” 

He kissed her again hard and she felt his hands working their way up her shirt. 

“Joel, I don’t mean right this second. Sarah is asleep right there.” Y/N giggled. 

“She’s a heavy sleeper, we will be fine.” He said kissing her again. 

They had just started to make their way towards the stairs when Joel's cell phone began buzzing on the table. 

Joel groaned as he backed away from Y/N and made his way to grab it. “Who the hell is calling at this hour?” 

“Joel Miller, you and I both know who is calling.” Y/N sighed as she straightened her shirt back out. 

“Hello?” Joel answered. “Yeah? Goddamnit.” Joel rubbed his eyes and he turned to look at Y/N. “Now?” 

Y/N rolled her eyes as she made her way upstairs to get ready for bed realizing that their plans for the evening had quickly changed. It wasn’t long before she heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. She peered out from the bathroom and saw Joel carrying Sarah to her room. 

She followed and watched as he laid her in bed and leaned down to kiss her forehead before turning back to Y/N with a pleading look in his eyes. 

Neither said a word until they knew they were out of earshot of the sleeping teenager. 

“Tommy is in jail.” Joel sighed. 

“Shit,” Y/N gasped as she ran her hands through her hair. 

“He needs me to come pick him up because if I don’t today he will be stuck in there all weekend. I’m so sorry baby.” 

“No, it’s fine. I don’t want him to be stuck in jail.” Y/N said. “Just please be careful, the news keeps talking about the violence that is happening everywhere and there were so many cops on my drive home and I…” 

“Woah,” Joel said as he grabbed her face in his hands. “Just breath for me darlin’” 

Y/N took a deep breath as she closed the distance between her and Joel as she wrapped her arms around him. 

“Please just promise me you will be careful.” 

“I will go get Tommy, kick his ass, and then I will be right home I promise.” He said as he leaned down and kissed the top of Y/N’s head. “And then when I get back…” He growled seductivly. 

“Oh no, I will be asleep. You had your chance.” Y/N laughed. 

“But it’s my birthday!” Joel whined. 

“It won’t be your birthday by the time you get back.” 

“I will speed, I will be back here before midnight.” 

“If you can get back here before midnight you might get lucky tonight Miller, but I don’t see that happening.” 

“I like a challenge.” Joel said as he kissed her hard again. He large hands gripped her waist and squeezed causing her to moan. 

“Joel,” She gasped. “If you don’t leave now you won’t make it back in time.” 

“Ugh, fine.” He laughed as he pulled away. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” She watched him leave The minute he was out of view she felt the exhaustion hit her. Y/N went up to her and Joel room and laid down, thinking that she would just rest her eyes wanting to stay awake for when Joel got home, but the minute her head hit the pillow she drifted off to sleep. 

******

“Dad?” She heard a voice call and it woke her up. “Y/N?” She turned sleepy to see Sarah standing in the doorway. Suddenly a helicopter roared over head shaking the house. 

Y/N looked at the clock and saw that it was two in the morning. Panic set in when she found her bed empty and no sign of Joel. 

“Joel?!” She called as she followed Sarah downstairs. 

The house was empty. The noises that filled the air only added to the panic that Y/N felt but she tried to keep calm for Sarah’s sake. 

“Where is Dad?” Sarah asked worried. 

“He had to go pick up Tommy, he should be back soon.” Y/N said as she reached for the remote and turned on the tv hoping to find answers as to what was going on. 

The tv turned on to the emergency broadcast sound. “Law enforcement and emergency services are in the area and will be in contact with further instructions… 

Suddenly there was a loud banging sound and both Y/N and Sarah jumped. Y/N grabbed Sarah and pushed her behind her, but their assailant they found was Mercy, the Adler’s dog. 

“Jesus Christ.” Y/N gasped. “That’s it I’m calling your dad,” Y/N walked away from Sarah into the kitchen to grab the phone. 

In an instant she dialed Joel’s phone number, and began pacing around the kitchen waiting for him to answer. 

“You have reached Joel Miller, sorry I couldn’t come to the…” The voicemail responded and Y/N slammed the phone back down. 

“Fuck!” She whispered under her breath. She balled her hands into fists trying to stop them from shaking. “Knowing your dad, he has the volume turned all the way down so he…” Y/N tried to laugh but when she turned the corner she found Sarah was gone and the front door was wide open. “Sarah!” 

Y/N burst out the front door just in time to watch Mercy sprint down the street. “Sarah!” She screamed again and turned to see Sarah standing in the Adler’s yard. “What the hell Sarah, you can’t just go off like that, you scared the shit out of me…” 

“I think something happened to the Adler’s.” Sarah said. 

Y/N made her way over to Sarah and saw what she was looking at. The front door to the Adler’s was wide open and they could hear clanging coming from inside. Y/N’s blood ran cold. 

“Ok, Sarah we are going to quietly make our way back to the house.” Y/N whispered. 

“But what if they are hurt?” 

Y/N sighed. “I will check on them, you go back and lock the door behind you.” 

“No, I’m not leaving you.” 

“Sarah I…” Y/N snapped but she knew that Sarah was far too stubborn to persuade her otherwise. “Fine but stay behind me, understood.” 

She just nodded and she got up close to Y/N as they made their way into the house. 

The first thing they saw was the rug was bunched up right at the door and Mercy’s lease was laying on the ground. It looked as though they had been heading out the door for a walk when whatever happened, happened. 

“Mrs. Adler?” Y/N called as they inched forward in the house. Another loud clang came from the kitchen and Sarah grabbed onto Y/N hand tightly. 

“Mrs. Adler?” Sarah called as they made their way toward the kitchen. Y/N had just taken a step inside when her foot slipped on something wet. She looked down in horror to find a large trail of blood and at the end was Mr. Adler leaning up against the wall. 

“Help me,” He gasped. 

“Oh my god,” Y/N inched forward but watched as Mr. Adler frantically looked from her to his left then back at her again. Y/N followed his sightline and froze when she saw Nana Adler on top of Mrs. Adler and it looked like she was eating her. As Nana Adler slowly looked up Y/N saw what looked like vines growing out of her mouth. “Sarah.” She tried to say but no words came out as she stood in fear watching as the old woman locked eyes with her and let out a loud screech. “Run!” She screamed as she turned back to Sarah and the two bolted from the house. 

Y/N looked over her shoulder to see if they were being followed when she heard the sound of a car and saw the headlights. 

“Get in the truck right now!” She heard a voice say and she knew it was Joel. “Move,” He said as he grabbed onto Sarah and started to push her towards the truck, Y/N following closely behind the two of them. 

Another loud screech came from the house as everyone turned in horror to watch Nana Adler burst from the house. She tripped on the rug and landed with a sickening crack on the floor. Joel had one hand on Sarah and the other he held a large wrench, but he used that hand to start to push Y/N behind him. 

“What are we doing Joel?” Tommy screamed as Nana Adler sprinted towards them. 

Just before she reached them Y/N lunged at Sarah to try to protect her, and Joel took a swing with the wrench, cracking Nana Adler across the face and she landed on the ground unmoving. 

Y/N grabbed onto Sarah and pulled her in, trying to shield her from the body. She had tears in her eyes as she looked over at Joel. 

“You killed her,” She gasped and he dropped the wrench pulling both Y/N and Sarah into his arms. 

“I’m sorry baby,” He said. 

“Joel we got to go,” Tommy replied and that was the first time Y/N noticed that Tommy had a shotgun. 

“Listen to me,” Joel said. “It’s not just the Adlers.” 

Sarah moved out of Y/N’s embrace to look at her father, tears streaming down her face. 

“We are going to be brave. And we are going to get out of this.” He said as he grabbed her face in his hands. 

There was a loud explosion behind them and Y/N jumped still holding on tightly to both Sarah and Joel. 

“Let’s go come one.” Tommy said as he went back to the driver’s seat. 

Joel helped Sarah into the car and as he reached back for Y/N she threw her arms around him. 

“We are going to be ok Joel, aren’t we?” She asked terrified. 

“I promise darlin’ I’m not going to let anything happen to you or Sarah.” He kissed the side of her head as he helped her into the car. 

Previous Part Next Part

[ocshipscanonwaters]

OCxCanon Week Day 3

Two prompts spoke to me on the day! Day 3

Prompt – Out In Nature Nigel Leeds x Isaac Lahey (MTV's Teen Wolf) Nigel looks around, this particular place is unfamiliar to him but it looks and smells safe. The boys have their normal camping spot they regularly use which is why Nigel is a little confused as to why they're here at this new place.

“Does it meet with your approval?” Isaac semi-jokes. Honestly he was a little on the fence about doing this. As resilient and strong as Nigel is, there was a part of Isaac that was concerned that being somewhere unknown may put Nigel on edge. Before they left this morning he accepted that if it did they'd leave and go to their normal camping haunt.

“I'll want to take a quick fly through later on but nothing giving red flag vibes. Here let me help you with that.” Nigel sighs as he watches Isaac try to carry all of their camping gear in a single trip.

Isaac jokingly scoffs; “I'm a big bad wolf remember? I'm tough.”

Nigel shakes his head; “Doesn't mean you got to be silly about it. Here...”

Nigel takes some of the items so they are sharing a more equal load. “There, isn't that easier?”

Part of Isaac wants to admit the truth, it wasn't the weight of the load but the volume of items that had been making things a tad bit more difficult than he was letting on. He doesn't want to admit that though, so instead he offers a lazy shrug. “If it makes you feel better.”

“It does but you're the one who knows where we are going so shouldn't you lead the way?”

Isaac blushes, Nigel is the one who usually leads the way. Not that he forces it, or even insists on it, Nigel taking the lead is just the natural standard they have fallen into. Nodding Isaac starts down what he thinks is the right trail towards the area they will be spending the next two days and two nights.

The spot they end up at is beautiful but it is far from the hiking trails, and the trek to get to the spot isn't fantastic which apparently has helped ensure that they are the only ones around. Isaac suggests that Nigel get them some trout for dinner while he sets up camp.

By the time Nigel comes back with a few trout Isaac has camp set up and is just sitting at the fire, he greets Nigel with a smile. The Jersey Devil stops in his tracks and openly sniffs at the air though he is currently in human. “Do I smell potatoes?”

Isaac nods; “Yeah, got some baking in the coals. They should be done by the time I've prepped and cooked that fish and I have some other greens here to cook in a pan too.”

“Fancy dinner.” Nigel says as he sits down; “I can clean the fish if you want.”

Isaac shakes his head and motions for the fish to be handed over; “I got it.”

��What's up? What's the occasion?”

Isaac sighs; “I was thinking I'd tell you after dinner but may as well talk while I cook.”

Nigel begins to feel nervous. New location, fancy meal, Isaac needing to talk about something apparently important? He can't help but believe that whatever is up it isn't good.

“So...I'm sure you remember when you first took me camping I had to warm up to the idea...”

“But you did warm up to the idea right?” Nigel replies cautiously.

“Oh I most certainly have. That's what I want to talk to you about.” Isaac looks around, really taking in their surroundings. “I never thought it would be possible but I now have a love for being outdoors and nature and...that's had me make a decision.”

Nigel is so lost now, his fears can't figure out how what Isaac is saying could be bad but they are sure it is. “What's that?”

“I've decided that I want to work out here, in the great outdoors, as a forest ranger.”

The relief is almost physically draining for the Jersey Devil; “That's great I-”

Isaac holds up the hand he's wielding the fillet knife with to get Nigel to pause. “But in order to do that I have to do a lot of schooling first, not doctor a lot, but still a fair bit. So I applied to a school that has what I need and I got accepted.”

Nigel jumps up and down on the spot, he's so happy for Isaac. “That's great!”

“There is a catch though.”

Nigel's joy catches in his throat and the fears return. What catch could there be? Does Isaac have to break up with Nigel for some reason in order do this.

“In order to do this. I...and I hope I mean we, have to move to Fresno.”

“Okay and?” Nigel doesn't understand the problem. His worries return and start to grow.

Isaac can see how worried Nigel is becoming, and he feels so bad because he doesn't think there was a way he could talk to Nigel about this without giving the poor Jersey Devil some temporary anxiety in the beginning. It's just how Nigel's past has him act from time to time.

“Fresno's population is about half a mill, a wee bit bigger than Beacon Hills' thirty K and we probably won't be able to head out of town and get away from it all till my program is done...in four years. I know you've had trouble being around the number of people you are in Beacon Hills at times so...if you think it will be a problem it's okay you can tell me. I don't have to do this; I can figure something else out. The last think I want to do is stress you out.” Isaac can feel his dialogue getting away from him, he's starting to ramble and can't stop himself.

“Let's do it.” Is all Nigel replies.

“Really? Just like that?” Isaac asks. He thought that Nigel would have some fear or hesitation.

“Just like that. It's only four years and given that as long as nothing bad happens we each have at least a hundred more years to go it won't be that long at all.”

“So you're gonna be okay probably living in a tiny apartment surrounded by tons of people on all sides?”

Nigel shrugs; “Maybe not at first but I'll adapt. I'll be busy working anyhow so that'll help.”

“Working?” Isaac doesn't understand.

“Well someone is going to have to pay the bills and you'll be focused on your studies.”

“I didn't want to assume.” Isaac actually hadn't thought about how they would pay for everything. He just thought he'd be doing a mix of student loans and living off his father's estate.

“We're mates. I know we haven't had the wedding yet but in the eyes of Jersey Devils you and I are already bonded. Me putting in the work so you can focus on your studies is expected. Just as when the times comes and I try to rebuild my clan it's expected you'll have to shoulder more initially while I focus on that. It's just what mates do for each other.”

Isaac smiles, his chest feels heavy. Having lived with his abusive father for so long, even now the instantaneous support Nigel gives him time and again feels almost overwhelming. There is a part of him, the part created by years living under his father's abuse that wants to have him question how lucky he is, how long it will be till he screws this up, or the other shoe drops and Nigel reveals who he really is. He pushes all those thoughts aside, focusing on the moment.

Isaac needs to distract himself. Turning his attention back to the fish he continues prepping them.“So after dinner I guess we can celebrate the good news?”

Nigel smiles mischievously; “Yeah, once the sun sets we can celebrate. We'll give the stars quite the show.”

Isaac can't tell if Nigel is teasing or telling the truth, either way all the doubts and fears are gone as his mind is now focused on...other things.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Fashion – Casual Nigel Leeds x Isaac Lahey (MTV's Teen Wolf) Liam sighs; “Is it just me?”

“No it's not just you.” Stiles reassures the new werewolf.

“Oh not this again. It makes him happy.” Isaac says with a sigh.

“What are we talking about?” Scott asks as he approaches the trio. “Wait it's not the t-shirt again is it?”

Stiles raises a finger at Scott. “Yes! It's weird.”

“It's not weird! It's just a t-shirt! It's cute and he's cute when he wears it.” Isaac snaps.

“Buying your non-werewolf boyfriend a t-shirt with a huge wolf jumping out at the viewer is not cute!” Stiles states.

Scott shrugs with a smile; “It's kinda cute.”

Stiles sighs.

“And it makes him happy. Given everything he's been through since escaping to Beacon Hills...” Isaac doesn't bother finishing the sentence. They all know at least a bit of what the poor creature has suffered.

“It does make him smile and he is cute when he smiles.” Liam agrees. This apparently does not sit well with Isaac who folds his arms and glares at the newest wolf. Liam looks at Isaac with confusion; “What? I'm just agreeing with what you said!”

Scott inwardly sighs recognizing the unnecessary, reflexive jealously that can come with being a werewolf; a jealousy that he himself has suffered from numerous times without realizing it at the time. “Isaac, you're acting like I did when I thought you were into Allison.”

Isaac immediately uncrosses his arms and holds his hands out in front of him as part of a dramatic apology; “Sorry! Didn't realize I was being that bad.”

“I wasn't that bad.” Scott protests.

“Yeah you were.” Stiles nods as he speaks. Feeling a bit embarrassed Scott tries to change the subject. “I thought we were talking about the t-shirt.”

Sensing the chance to have a little fun with things Stiles gives Scott a consoling pat on the shoulder. “Why? It's just clothing buddy.”

Scott is so lost.

[pandorafallz]

Exile AU | Hard adjustments

It was quite surreal, Jake found when he found himself be staring down at his human body that now lay dead. It dying from his wounds perhaps minutes after his consciousness had crossed over. It was now curled up, among the roots of the Tree of Souls with a traditional Na’vi burial. Wrapped and bound with plants, his death wound covered and an Atokirina delivered down beside it. Na’vi didn’t bury the bodies like humans did; no huge, complete cover of dirt or tombstone. Would the tree fair well with alien remains beside it?

Did humans rot differently from Na’vi or would the body be absorbed somehow?

Jake didn’t know.

Grace’s human body received a similar burial beside his little plot of roots and it had succumbed just a second after Grace had passed through the eye of Eywa according to Mo’at. If they had been too late, Grace or… perhaps himself, would be passed on rather than take a detour to their avatar body. Too close to his liking but he was grateful for their efforts.

It didn’t escape his notice that Grace’s grave was… more decorated with flowers than his own.  It wasn’t the lack of flowers that bothered him… but he knew why he had a…basic grave in grand comparison.

“You seem unsettled, Jakesully?”

Jake’s head turned to see Mo’at kneeling just a few feet away with careful yellow eyes. His ears flickered back though he nodded, returning his gaze back to the remains. “I never thought I’d be murdered by my own race…. Not out here, at least.” He was a marine, he had fought in wars but that was on earth. Death was a companion of those who took up the military mantle of any region. On Pandora… he had believed his death would be by alien hands or by an accident. Tsu’tey had certainly made his attempts.

He wouldn’t be surprised if he tried again now.

“There are a rare few who have such a second chance. To be reborn Na’vi.” Mo’at remarked calmly. “The Great Mother did not save you without reason, even with our prayers.”

“I will fulfil that reason. For her and for the Omatikaya” Jake promised because…he still owed it to the Omatikaya at the very least. They had been saved and for that, he had tremendous gratitude. “Out of growing worry and concern, I do not wish to accidentally poison the tree… but human remains can be volatile in the decomposition process. Gasses will build…one English king exploded during his late funeral. There’s a lot of children around; I don’t think that’ll be something they should see.”

“The Great Mother had already started to colonize the remains and will appropriately divert its energy back into herself.” Mo’at assured, “Bones will remain by the end of the week, after which we will settle new soil to allow for the minerals to aid the remaining natural cycle. Some of people may take a small fragment of bone at that time if it’s agreed upon, to add to their songcord.”

Jake relaxed after a moment, allowing her words to soothe him. Good, at least he didn’t have to worry about that. He didn’t need more burden on his shoulders. Though, his mind did wander at her words. Neytiri, months ago had explained the songcord to him…even showed him hers to help him craft his.

His death seemed fitting. A bone from his body would be…fitting to add to that. He already had a bone in mind.

“Is that often remains are used?” Surely that had a…negative view of taking than allowing the body to fully return.

“Not often but it’s not judged upon either. Certainly, given the nature of this body, I don’t see there to be a judgment upon it if there are those who choose to use bones by consent. They are your remains, after all.” Mo’at paused, a moment as she realized what she had said. “That is not a sentence I thought I would speak before today.” She frowned lightly

Jake chuckled dryly before he gently fished out his small, palm-sized songcord. It wouldn’t be finished until his next death, so it’s size was nothing he was too worried about, even if most were longer. His first bead was a triangular blue to represent when he first met Neytiri; starting his life with the Omatikaya, and as of now, ended with his connection to his Ikran. It seemed fitting to update it. He already had a few in mind; a fire burned wooden bead for the fall of Hometree, a bad memory but important nonetheless; not only represented the loss of Hometree itself but…his place among the clan. His death to be marked but after that…he probably should expect a bead to represent his fate after he had fulfilled his side of the deal.

“Grace…” Jake started, not sure where he was going for a moment, “Grace doesn’t have a song cord. Now that she is…Na’vi, it seems appropriate she starts one for her new life.”

Mo’at’s head tilted away thoughtfully to where Grace was cuddled up, occupied with the children, letting them play and braid her hair. Someone had clearly persuaded her into a loin cloth as well in her recovery. “I will mention it to my daughter. She is…in need of a welcome distraction.”

“I would like to speak to her.” Jake spoke, “I know she’s been avoiding me…but there is a lot we need to  address for both of us to work together peacefully at the very least”

“You know why she does not.” Mo’at spoke widely, “She is not ready.”

“I know. But…we are a mated pair.” Jake sighed deeply, “I…just… if she wants to separate from me. As much as that idea hurts… it that even an option if she continues to hate me?”

Mo’at’s attention turned down a little, her tail shifting with concern. “Separation is…rare, Jakesully. Na’vi mate for life, in front of Eywa to bless the union. If the union is not fitting of either, both sides would terrible dreams by Eywa as a warning. To…separate would cause a…significant view upon them. To deny a union from Eywa…” Mo’at remained unsettled, “it’s very frowned upon, as you could say.”

“But… is it not cruel to force an innocent woman to be at the side of her mate for his wrong doings? To be seen as part of his actions?” Jake asked, “I don’t… Neytiri deserves so much more than me… for what I did.”

“But you love my daughter.”

“I do.” Jake was not a fool in that regard, they both knew he wouldn’t have mated with her otherwise, “but she has come to hate me, Mo’at.”

“She is angry, you have yet to atone and make amends. Forgiveness will take time, Jakesully. There may be regret if you follow through with the rituals.”

“Perhaps.” Jake inhaled deeply, “But… as long as there is an option if Neytiri so desires we separate then I will not fight her on that. If it makes her happy and able to…move on then it should be her choice. I want her to be happy, Mo’at.”

Mo’at didn’t look thrilled but she clearly sensed he was not going to move on the matter. Jake was just relieved that she didn’t deny the option. Only advised against it.

He was fine to regret it, he could live with it if it was truly what Neytiri wanted. He would not force her to stay spiritually bonded with him. It should be a choice.

“You speak of separation so easily, Jakesully. It worried me.”

Jake nodded, gently rubbing the blue bead. “Humans don’t mate for life. We—Humans evolved for reproduction more for survival of the species. High mortality rates, lots of babies… it was survival of the fittest back then to see which one survived long enough to start having kids of their own.” He hadn’t really read up on that but…it was the logical conclusion to why there was a difference. At least, in humans. Whether or not it was true, a whole other story.

“That sounds harsh.” Mo’at pondered.

“We had no Great Mother for guidance; no one to tell the humans how to look after their world and co-exist. Culturally, they tried to control the mating into a ritual called Marriage. A wedding to bind a couple under the eyes of their own deities.” Jake explained. “Some marry in the burning passions of young love, some marry for the sake of an unborn child, and some… end up separating for one reason or another. The concept is not new for me…but that may be due to my experiences of separation in the family.” He didn’t go into that. He didn’t want to.

“I see.” Mo’at rocked back then straightened up. “This is not a human world. It is Na’vi. Do not cut all your connections in the heat of deep emotion.”

 -

Dinner after the eclipse began a slow incline for everyone to rest and sleep for a new day; to start rebuilding. At least, Jake assumed. Tsu’tey made it clear he was not welcome to rest close to the center, so he began the walk through towards the outskirts, his eyes skimming the crowd of blue faces but none seemed open for him to rest close by.

His Ikran screeched quietly, happily coming to him as he hovered at the outer edge. Nudging his face with his jaw before Jake smiled softly, his hands coming to stroke his head.

“Hey, boy.” He greeted. Maybe he could see if Norm had a spare avatar hammock at the shack? He pulled his queue for Tsaheylu, his Ikran offering his out too but before he could make the bond, a voice broke the quiet.

“Where are you going?”

Jake suppressed a sigh before he turned to see Tsu’tey hovering with a few warriors. Jake eyed them warily—mostly the weapons but he knew all of them.

“Back to the link shack to sleep. It’s clear I’m not welcome to sleep among the Omatikaya.” Jake stated sharply, “I also need to talk to Norm and get an update on what’s happening at the human base. Maybe see what their plans are. I haven’t been able to talk to them properly since we escaped.” He finished off with his Tsaheylu, the Ikran shifting though Jake pushed most of the other sensory feelings away though he could feel that he had fed recently, but while tired he was wanting a good place to settle down.

“You will not go alone,” Tsu’tey spoke firmly. “I do not trust you, Jakesully. You will have a…escort, as you humans say while you’re not with the Omatikaya.”

“Is that really necessary?”

“You’re about to go off and talk to sky people, you tell me” Tsu’tey stated. “Ka’ani, you will go with him.”

Ka’ani was not the worst option, Jake though nodded though he felt it was over the top. He didn’t need a babysitter but only arguing would do little to help. So Jake bit his tongue on it and waited until Ka’ani’s Ikran landed before they took off through the trees.

 -

 Neytiri eyes the disappearing figures with some relief, settled close to her mother in a way she had not in years. Her warmth and comfort were merely a touch away if she so desired it. One night and a full day and she missed her father’s words. How she begged for them now, for comfort and wisdom.

Jake was now one of the People. Truly in body now. She had never seen his human body before and she wasn’t sure how to feel about it now that she had. It was him. Clearly. The same face somehow with the alien structures. It was…perhaps the eyebrows he had that were the most exact feature that mirrored between. Alien Blue eyes, instead of the familiar yellow. His nose was so much more prominent and stuck out from his face.

So small.

He was so small.

She understood humans were naturally smaller but… the scale only seemed to show when they were with a sky person. Small like children. Neytiri had seen Grace to know how they were so developed but yet…Jake’s human body was out of proportion. His legs so thin like they were starved while his arms were are more developed.

She had questions…but she didn’t know is she wanted the answers. It was…no longer relevant. The sky-person body was dead. The Jake she never got to meet in honesty. A Jake she never got to See.

“You should rest, not allow your mind to dwell.” Her mother’s voice was soft.

“I cannot. The troubles still plaguing me, Mother.” Neytiri sat up from her mat to her mother who was still working with grounding up herbs for more healing paste to soothe those with burns still. “I have no resolve.” She shouldn't have been surprised; of course her mother knew.

Her mother raised her eyes to her softly before the movement of Tsu’tey returned.

“Jakesully is returning to the metal box for rest. I had left Ka’ani to remain with him.” He spoke, coming to sit down. “What are we to do with him tomorrow? He has yet to prove his worth to remain with the Omatikaya.”

“Is he returning simply for sleep?” Mo’at questioned, gently scraping into a small pot then returned to making something for smoothing cuts, as Neytiri saw the other herbs awaiting from a recent forage.

“No. He plans to talk to sky people.”

“Then we shall wait for what news he has.” Mo’at spoke, “It is wise to be patient with him. Having his soul removed from one body to another will not be an easy transition. He may get…confused.”

“Confused?” Tsu’tey asked, “Should that be a concern?”

“His sense of self was always sky person, now he is Na’vi. He may…forget his bigger mass or even the difference in air. His mind will need to settle inside first.” Mo’at turned her attention past them to a quiet corner where Grace was curled up, fast asleep, and yet, had a frown upon her face. Her arms were wrapped with leaves and paste. “Graceaugustine is having such troubles herself. Withdrawn and keeps scratching up her arms until bleeding.”

“She is harming herself.” Tsu’tey was alarmed, his head turning to watch her with caution. Though Neytiri could empathise with his fears. They cared much for Grace and she was certainly thankful that Eywa had passed her back to them than keep her. It was disturbing to see her at ill peace in her body but Neytiri had done her part to try and cool such unpleasant sensations but only her mother could help the soul.

“Not with intent. She said it was called a ‘phantom sensation’ of an itch along her skin. Scratching does relieve the sensation. Yet for her there is no relief. Her mind is not settled within. It will take time. I plan to take her to Tsaheylu with the Tree of Souls for aid in the balance of the soul and body. That should make her settlement faster. ”

Tsu’tey nodded, “I will see that the rest of the clan will not disturb you two tomorrow. I plan to send the people who are able and willing to collect any surviving resources from Hometree. There underground caves should have surviving supplies of food and clothes that should be untouched. We can start setting mauri’s up for the people’s comfort until a new home.”

Neytiri leaned forwards, “What of the sky people? If they come back for the tree’s remains?”

“There have been no sightings of them since but I will be wary. We need the supplies but, if there are any remaining dead then we shall do our best to recover them to deliver to Eywa.”

“I can join you.” Neytiri felt the restlessness with the need of needing to do something to help her people.

“No,” Mo’at spoke, “I need you here to care for the people, you’re tsakarem. The people are hurt beyond the physical wounds. They will need your guidance to help their spirits heal.”

Neytiri huffed softly but she nodded. “Of course,” but she worried being here would lead to crossing paths with her mate. She was not ready for that. To face him and to once again feel all the weight he had put into their shoulders…. It was too overwhelming. More so when she looked upon the remains of her clan.

So many dead.

Needlessly.

Because of Sky People. Because of him.

Her mother rose to her feet and made her way to those still hurting. Neytiri watched her for the longest of a second, unable to help but marvel at her mother’s strength. Loss of home, her own mate, and still… stood so strong to keep the people going. How she bared it, Neytiri couldn’t know but she was glad to help her in any way she could.

She would need to learn fast and to be the next guiding hand for the Omatikaya. Neytiri sucked in a soft breath, trying to focus on that detail as she once again settled onto the mat. For the people.

 -

 Jake was glad to return to the familiar shack, dismounting from his Ikran though kept note as Ka’ani did as well, leading the way around to the back though he was glad to see Norm’s Avatar was in his hammock and covered with a net to keep away the bugs.

“The sky people appear to be mating,” Ka’ani remarked, looking a little disturbed before he straightened up from the window with a ting to his cheeks.

Jake snorted softly, his hand coming to knock against the glass but was glad to be spared the misfortune of witnessing Turdy and Norm’s…activities. It wasn’t the first time either but at least two of them were having some fun…or destressing in each other’s arms.

Inside, there were a few clatters as the couple realized they were no longer alone and hurried to collect themselves.

It took a few minutes before Norm came out, half-dressed and with a mask on.

“Jake, I’m…glad you’re alive but you have real shitting timing man. I was almost finished!” He sounded enraged, his face still flushed with sweat. “Hello, sorry you had to see that.” Norm added politely to Ka’ani in Na’vi.

Ka’ani looked a little perplexed but nodded without a word.

“Sorry, but I’m sleeping here for the night. Where are the spare hammocks and nets?”

“Big crate, around back. Have fun.” He directed.

“Can we make contact with Max?”

“No, the connections are down at the moment, we have to wait on their convenience. What he can't do live, he’ll send as video logs. I did tell them what happened when I did talk to Max a few hours ago. Quaritch is now running the place like it’s his own fiefdom. He knows he shot you and Grace but Max has spread the word that both of you were killed following the shooting. Everyone in the Avatar Program is on our side now because of that. Max has told only a few that you live inside your avatars now which has given some strength to keep to our cause.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“What is he saying?” Ka’ani asked before Jake realized that he didn’t understand English.

“I will explain later,” Jake spoke, but turned his attention back to Norm. “What intel was sent?”

“Nothing much on their battle plans. They’re….going to be sending in the Valkyrie and Dragon to drop off new bulldozers at Hometree in about…seven days’ time to start clearing it once the fires start to die out. It’ll take three weeks of prep to start a new mine.”

“Okay, We’ll inform the Omatikaya tomorrow,” Jake promised. It was good Intel and it gave him a good reason to be useful. They’d not be happy to hear about it but… they had to know what would happen.

“We can talk more in the morning as well, Goodnight.” Norm didn’t wait for much more before he turned and hurried back into the shack.

Jake rolled his eyes at his friend’s antics but led Ka’ani with him to the back where there were the spare boxes. Inside, he opened it up to see the fold-out hammocks tightly bound inside and pulled them out.

“What are those?” Ka’ani asked, watching as Jake set it down and began to unclasp the secure tags and began to unfold it.

“Hammock,” Jake answered, straightening out the metal supports and clipping the joins into place and setting the material out to either end point and setting up the last bar above to clip on the net. “You can use this. The net stops bugs from getting to you.” He added to the cautious look the Na’vi sent to the netting.

“It does not look comfortable,” Ka’ani set down his bow, his fingers coming to touch along the material with caution.

“But it’s functional.” Jake sighed, building up his own setup. “I will use it, you can choose it or find something else for you, Ka’ani but it’s the best option at this time of night.” He didn’t wait for any complaints as he slipped into his net and settled down. Also, he was glad that at this side, there was very little noise to travel out. He didn’t need to know if the two had carried on or not.

Tomorrow, it was a new start and a new day.

[danwhobrowses]

One Piece Chapter 1071 - Initial Thoughts

So the official releases it in 2023 so technically it's the first chapter of 2023, but for us it comes a little early thanks to scanlations

Things seems swimmingly when it comes to escape, but Kizaru is on his way and CP0 have the Seraphim under control, so what does 2023 hold for the arc and our characters?

Spoilers for the Chapter, Support the Official Release

Had to dig for the cover page but twitter came through with a colorspread of the crew with Uta in red and white on the Sunny's mast, nothing to really dig into

We start with Kuma, who has headlong shot himself back into the red line

Panic of course covers the red port, since they don't know the friend or foe status of Kuma, but strangely they do seem aware that he was a slave, I guess propaganda does make out that Kuma was a terrible person

We'll stay blueballed by that for probably the next 3-5 months I bet

Egghead is in lockdown, which means CP0 are seeking a way in

Rob 'I won't accept Luffy as an Emperor because I refuse to take an L' Lucci

Lilith's got a space gun and is ready to throw down

Edison this is not the time for invention ideas unless it can get us out alive

Naturally, Shaka and Lilith remain at odds, because they're Good and Evil, though I see both sides, Shaka's a bit too 'self sacrifice, the main body is all that matters' good while Lilith is 'so anyway I started blasting' evil

I mean surely you aren't expendable since you all have Vegapunk's brain in you...

Vegapunk does at least lament Sentomaru's defeat because of him

Seems we have another ally we can call though, someone on the island

Despite Edison's warnings that this will endanger then, Vegapunk goes straight to asking for help

Our ally remains hidden, even their Den Den Mushi covers the eyes to give nothing away, but they've been prepared to bail out Vegapunk for a while

They do seem confident that this ally will help them escape easily, but we do have a plan together

Though it might be crowded on the Sunny with all seven Punks; Sanji's okay with it so long as Lilith's there - though he said nothing of York - and of course Franky's all game

Meanwhile Luffy and Chopper are trying to chase down Bonney to halt her revenge, being stymied by the bug attack thinking Vegapunk planned it

But somehow, security briefly goes down on the Labophase

I sense foul play but they say nobody's in the control room, unless they have a means of getting through undetected like travelling at the speed of light

CP0 are as in the dark about it as the Vegapunks are though, even Lucci is concerned it's a trap

Still, they gingerly make it up to the Labophase anyway, and they spot the Sunny

Kaku getting a bit too cocky now as he throws a Rankakyu at the Sunny, only to awaken Zoro from his nap

Giraffe Boy knows he's fucked up now

Attacking the ship is fair play but disrupting a man's nap is a death sentence

Defenses go back online but CP0 are already in, no mention of the Seraphim though

Since Zoro is defending the ship it does look like we have to go into direct conflict, which is back into Lilith's alley

Luffy's group reconvenes with the Lab group, though news of them leaving does upset Luffy a little

In addition, Bonney is missing, as is the main Vegapunk

Speaking of, the former is chasing the latter with a pipe

Bonney does ask the key question of whether Kuma can be changed back, but the answer invites more; No but there's a reason...

Meanwhile, with the Kid Pirates

I mean, that fish is as big as your ship which has a fish skull on its mast

Killer does suggest going around but Kid never wants to back down

and he's double not gonna back down when it's likely Elbaf!

Egghead and Elbaf are literally within proximity of one another, and Luffy's missed out on it from a coin toss...

I sure hope this doesn't mean that Elbaf will be skipped because Usopp needs his arc

The marines at G-14 are going to Egghead too, but they've been called by Garp

Garp is gonna launch an offense on an Emperor, even without approval from the top

Even Doll with her buff shoulders can't escape the hourglass shape

Garp is already at G-14 though ready to pick up Helmeppo (and maybe Hibari)

Garp is going to Fullalead to bust Coby out!!!

Well Oda definitely made sure we have a lot to prepare for next year

Between the Straw Hats & Vegapunk vs CP0, potentially Seraphim and Kizaru we also have Kid Pirates in Elbaf, and the Navy vs Blackbeard pirates - which could mean seeing the outcome of Law vs Blackbeard or maybe Garp vs whoever was left over, think it was Pizzaro, Lafitte, Aokiji and Sanjuan Wolf since we didn't see them vs the Heart Pirates even though Pudding was on the ship.

Finally Zoro is sprung into action, though Brook I doubt would be one to face Lucci, and he'd probably ask to see Stussy's panties if he fought her, there's still a numbers issue too because we still have 5 Vegapunks and 8 Straw Hats to balance out against 3 CP0 agents and potentially 4 Seraphim and 1 Admiral, and we know that Kaku can't take Zoro and Lucci's on copium as it is. Though there could be another traitor among us, might come into play with what Kizaru was saying last chapter; part of me thinks Pythagoras is sus, but Lilith is also sus, and nobody is really paying attention to York and Edison. There's also the matter of this secret ally, did they shut down security as a betrayal? or to get in? Part of me hopes it's Smoker but that's a lot of confidence to put on him, Fujitora maybe? On the other hand Kizaru or Caribou may've shut down security also, it does make you suspicious of everyone.

With G-14 also arriving we may get to see Doll and Tashigi in action (let me hope already I'm still having to process losing Carrot), I'd suppose the SWORD agents will involve themselves more with the Garp situation. And of course there's the Elbaf matter with Kid, what will they find there? And will the Straw Hats go there to find them still there? I don't think Kid can take more Ls right now after being Kaido's prisoner for so long (speaking of we still need a status on BM and Kaido, on top of all the other stuff like Sabo, Law, the reaper, Vivi, Cobra etc.) plus there's the matter of Kuma; why did he go back? I do worry that he's too set in his programming to return to the Dragons but Vegapunk does hint that maybe there's more to it, that there's a secondary reason why he can't be changed back.

A lot to process and a lot more to question, into 2023 we go

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Conflicted - a Malevolent Fanfic

Not for the first time, he wonders - wonders if John would have treated him like this when they’d fought all those times if he could, if he would have just picked him up and shaken him like a doll, if he’d have squeezed until Arthur could not breathe, too, until his bones creaked and bruises in the shape of tubes lingered on him for days.

If it only seemed John was kinder because he’d been unable to do this.

(And he knows that’s not fair, he knows that’s irrational, but it’s another wave of salty, fish-foam feeling cresting over the sea-wall of himself, and he does not know how to save the sandcastles he’s built in desperation, or himself from drowning.)

Part of the Surrogate series.

AO3

-----------

It is six days to the games, their fights are getting worse, and Hastur is so conflicted.

Hastur is holding Arthur again, but this isn’t the teddy-bear hold, this isn’t the closer-to-John hold, this isn’t a good hold at all.

This is a hold designed to silence.

Arthur chokes, more than a little, but he doesn’t stop glaring—glaring with eyes that do not see, that manage to pierce right through Hastur’s composure like the stridence of knives on a chalkboard.

Hastur! He can’t breathe!

Arthur can’t. He can still spit though, or he tries. It mostly goes onto his chin, but some hits its goal—wet and frothy on Hastur’s robe, sliding down.

Hastur wants to throw him, smash him against the wall so he shatters and never spits again.

He wants to embrace him, pull him into the core of his many arms, to make him welcome Hastur’s touch and presence and opinion.

He wants to rip him in half and shake him over a bowl until John falls out.

He wants to take him to bed and—

No, that’s John’s desire slipping through, resonating even though John doesn’t even know what John wants, and it’s pissing Hastur off.

“Stop!” he growls, low, a terrible sound that rattles the sconces on the walls and dances a flower vase right off a nearby table with a crash.

Hastur! John’s voice breaks.

Hastur loosens his grip.

Arthur gasps raggedly, every inhale voiced. “You f… you fu…” he starts.

Hastur growls.

Arthur! John growls, too, because he is afraid. Stop! Just stop it! Hear him the fuck out!

“No! He can’t do this! She’s a child!”

Hastur tells himself not to shake Arthur until his neck snaps and he goes limp like a doll.

Hastur tells himself not to sway Arthur until the man is flushed and adoring, eager to please as he likes his toys to be.

But Arthur isn’t a toy.

He hasn’t swayed Arthur for a couple of years now. Arthur is terrified of it; letting that tool go is a concession to John’s concern for Arthur, and he will not undo that mighty effort now.

He holds himself neutral, in impossible balance, and does not even yell. “If you had bothered to listen to what I had to say, Composer, you might have noticed I said nothing about agreeing to betrothe anyone to anything!”

All right, so he’d yelled. So he’d lost that battle, raised his voice, slammed several tentacles onto the floor so hard they cracked the marble.

Damn it. Damn the man. Damn Arthur Lester and his… whatever it is that gets under his dark, deific skin. One of these days, he’d…

Do the unthinkable, and Arthur would die.

Maybe. (The thought hurts, somewhere between his many hearts.)

Or maybe he would just focus on getting John back, and solve all the problems that way, because it would restore him to power, and stop the constant, burning pain, and soothe the quiet fear that the reason he can’t find a way to protect Faroe is he is not whole, and—

Arthur twists in his tentacled grip like an insane fish, and Hastur resists the urge to slap him.

#

It is six days to the games, their fights are getting worse, and John is so conflicted.

There was no reason for this one! Hastur came to tell them things, as he’s done for months now, going out of his way to keep Arthur informed as to what’s happening with Faroe.

John still doesn’t know why. It’s partly for him, sure, to curry favor (which John denies, which John resents, which John concedes), but that isn’t the main reason, and he knows it deep in the space where his many hearts should be.

This has something to do with Arthur himself. With wanting Arthur… happy? Approving? Jealous?

And John wants Arthur restored and back to his combative, ridiculous self, but why, why, why does he have to show signs of recovery when Hastur is actually trying to work with them? Why now?

What the fuck, Arthur? Be still! he snarls, his arm pinned, taking in the trembling rage (and something else, something else, there is something else Hastur is feeling, but John cannot make it out) that threatens to crush them.

He can’t even distract Arthur like this. Can’t reach up and smack him, or pet him, or do anything. Damn it.

(Bad to be so helpless. Worse when his one avenue of physical action is closed.)

And Arthur is spitting now (really poorly; they’d have to work on that), and for crying out loud, doesn't he know he’s mortal?

Hastur! John bellows, aware of Arthur’s flinch, but focusing on the only threat to Arthur in the room. He doesn’t understand! He sees fucked-up things here all the time, including sex! He’s afraid, don’t you get it?

And Hastur draws slightly back, and the conflicting halves of him seem to come together into one shocked, offended rumble. “Did he actually think I would say yes?”

I don’t know! Did he? Arthur! The fuck were you thinking? Arthur!

“Arthur!”

Arthur!

#

It is six days to the games, their fights are getting worse, and Arthur is so conflicted.

It’s so good to feel things that aren’t misery, that aren’t recrimination, that aren’t shame and guilt and those terrifying moments of nothing at all.

It’s so bad that he seems to have no control over this rage when it crests over the numb, colorless sea-wall of his heart and splashes onto the outside world.

Arthur!

“Arthur!”

Arthur!

And not for the first time, he wonders—wonders if John would have treated him like this when they’d fought all those times if he could, if he would have just picked him up and shaken him like a doll, if he’d have squeezed until Arthur could not breathe, too, until his bones creaked and bruises in the shape of tubes lingered on him for days.

If it only seemed John was kinder because he’d been unable to do this.

(And he knows that’s not fair, he knows that’s irrational, but it’s another wave of salty, fish-foam feeling cresting over the sea-wall of himself, and he does not know how to save the sandcastles he’s built in desperation, or himself from drowning.)

“I don’t know!” he shouts, wincing at his own volume, his head pounding with the pain of John’s anger (Does he know it hurts? Does he do it on purpose?), and he would wipe his wet eyes if he could, but his arms are pinned, and he cannot. “You’re the one who came in here and said there were fucking offers! And you said it would be advantageous! I… she…” His voice cracks. “She’s a child, Hastur, she’s a baby, you can’t do this…”

“I am not doing this, you buffoon!” Hastur snarls, and shakes him once.

Arthur’s head snaps back, and his teeth close on his tongue. He winces, tasting blood.

He tries to spit that.

It doesn’t work.

“Repulsive,” says Hastur, and roughly cleans his face with cloth from somewhere.

Arthur, stop doing that!

“I am not going to betrothe her to anybody,” says Hastur, snarling. “If she ever wishes to join with another that way, it will be her choice!”

Arthur goes still (Finally, John mutters). “Really?”

“Really! What kind of a monster… ah, of course. You humans do that all the time, don’t you? Promising the hands and loins of children to grow your filthy kingdoms. Yes, I can see how you completely forgot that I am a god, and assigned your hideous human expectations to me!”

The sea-wall is peeking now, drying in the sun, waves retreating to wherever the tide takes them, and he cannot bring them back. He just breathes, aching from John’s anger, feeling weirdly stupid for getting so mad, for not just hearing Hastur out, for…

He shakes his head, then hangs it. “I’m sorry. I…”

Silence.

“You are infuriating,” Hastur snarls—pointlessly, because they all know it.

“I know.”

Fuck, Arthur, don’t you dare start beating yourself up now, says John (Would he have also left bruises?).

“She has had,” says Hastur, as though the yelling and the spitting and the squeezing hadn’t happened, “six proposals—four for unification, two for breeding. The latter two, I put down with great prejudice. I do not hate betrothal ideas, as they show respect and a desire for her favor and mine. But breeding? No. That, I will not tolerate.”

What did you do? says John, who is less angry, and Arthur’s headache shrinks.

“I damaged the first, and killed the second. No more have come.”

Arthur grits his teeth. “I guess it’s inevitable they’d want to be near her,” he says slowly, with great effort. “You’ve made sure everyone knows how wonderful she is.”

“I have,” says Hastur. “And I—”

John gasps.

Arthur looks up, pointless as it is, and hears the worst possible thing he could right now.

“Dad? Uncle Arthur? What’s happening?”

She sounds afraid.

Arthur suddenly hopes, desperately, that Hastur’s quick clean took the blood off his face.

“Nothing, darling,” says Hastur. “Why are you awake?”

She sounds intermittently muffled, as if sleepily rubbing her face. “I heard you shouting.”

“Shit,” Arthur mutters. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. That was my fault. I…”

Hastur squeezes gently. This one is not painful; it is communication. “He fell, darling. We shouted because he was clumsy about it.”

“Oh,” she says. “Did you knock out a tooth?”

Fuck. The blood is still there.

“I have repaired it,” says Hastur. “Tell your Uncle Arthur not to be so foolish, hm?”

“Uncle Arthur,” she chides, half-asleep, not truly concerned, and why would she be, because her father is a god, her father can fix anything, her father can bring her back from the dead to torment his enemies.

“I’ll be more careful,” he manages, and swallows hard, suddenly on the edge of tears (he couldn’t bring her back from the dead, no matter how much he wanted). “I’m lucky your dad was here.”

“You were really shouting a lot,” she says, softer, as if doubting this scenario with rising wakefulness.

Of course we were! snaps John. Because some of us have the self-preservational instinct of cooked noodles!

And for no reason Arthur knows, that strikes him as funny.

He’s laughing alone for a moment, but then John joins him, and the last of that anger is gone.

And then miracle of miracles: Hastur laughs, too.

It isn’t much. It’s there and gone, a few puffs of happy air—but it is true. It’s what Arthur knew Hastur had wanted to do in the blue garden and hadn’t allowed himself, but he did tonight. That feels like progress, though Arthur can’t say toward what.

“Cooked noodles,” says Hastur, and strokes Arthur’s hair, tugging briefly—playfully?—at his short ponytail. “Perhaps I should change your official designation.”

No, because then you’d have to say ‘cooked noodles’ twenty times every damn gala, John counters.

They all laugh again.

Faroe absolutely does not get it (and Arthur isn’t sure he does, either, but it’s better, it’s better, and he’ll take it over whatever all that was). “You’re all so weird,” she says (and Arthur laughs again, and You have no idea, says John).

“Sweetheart, you are getting into a bad habit of being out after bedtime,” says Hastur.

She huffs. “I know.”

“Back to bed. Trust your father. Whatever shouting there is, whatever is happening, I will handle it all.”

“I know.” And that is a very different I know, not petulant, but with warmth, with trust.

With faith.

The door closes, and Arthur can only assume she’s gone because Hastur sighs. “We have to be more careful. Perhaps I should no longer bring you these reports.”

Arthur is well aware that’s manipulation. That’s bribery, in exchange for good behavior.

Arthur also does not care. “Please don’t leave me out of the loop. I… I can be better.”

Arthur, fucking hell.

“No, this one’s on me. I’m sorry, Hastur. I… I overreacted. I didn’t listen. I… I can…”

That touch again, tilting his face up this time, under his chin. “Why can’t you be like this all the time?”

Arthur has no answer.

Because you’re a motherfucking asshole who could make a thousand-year-old corpse lose their shit, John informs Hastur, and Arthur has to resist the urge to laugh again, because this is not the time, and this laugh would be hysterical.

“You know, John,” murmurs Hastur, “if you were with me, I would handle his obstinance better. You know that I would.”

Silence.

“There would be no need for all these histrionics,” Hastur adds. “Whatever magical understanding you have of his little snits could be mine, and we would no longer view them with rage.”

“Yes, you would,” Arthur says, which no one expected, including himself.

Because he’d made John mad more times than he could count. He wasn’t sure he knew how to not do that. Merging would do many things, but it wouldn't fix that.

Arthur, that… that isn’t true, says John, but Arthur sees no reason to respond.

“You are done practicing for tonight,” Hastur says, moving right along, and carries him to his rooms.

He takes him to the bathroom and washes his face like a child, then makes him rinse out his mouth.

He indifferently peels off Arthur’s shirt and trousers and shoes (over John’s loud and increasingly creative protests).

He puts Arthur in bed, then settles by it, silent.

“Why do you stay?” Arthur whispers, lying in bed, seeing nothing.

“Because I still do not understand,” says Hastur. “And perhaps, if I finally do, he will come home.”

So that tracks.

Arthur sighs and goes quiet.

Hastur sighs and goes quiet.

John insults them both for a couple of minutes before he realizes no one is responding, then he goes quiet, too.

Arthur thinks he cannot possibly fall asleep after all that, but of course, he does.

Hastur remains (and Arthur knows, knows, because his dreams are only peace), and does not leave until dawn turns the white marble pink.

----

Notes:

Why, whatever could Faroe be thinking about all this? Stay tuned.

[subqtaneoussmut]

The Tea Girl's Gambit, Chapter Nine

Mila’s last few weeks had been fraught with frustration.

The announcement of Apomasaics in her own classes had been a gift from the spirits themselves. Everything she had been searching for, everything she had been trying to work out piecemeal and in secret for years, abruptly delivered right into her lap.

But then the abrupt deceleration, like a ship abruptly running aground, throwing Mila to the deck. The whiplash of gatekeeping, of abruptly coming to an un-jump-able hoop.

The clerk at Special Research looked her over with a curled upper lip, and the eyes of a dead fish, before pulling her file and copying from it for what felt like ages. A growing unease in her stomach. As he closed her file, she smiled sweetly and pointed to the crowded series of lab tables she could see through the plate glass behind him.

“Excuse me, is that alembic in the back supposed to be bubbling over or...?” She trailed off artfully.

He twisted and craned in alarm. When he’d turned back around after a few whole seconds of vain searching for nothing, she gave her best impression of a naive, ditzy bumpkin shrug. He was not been in the least amused, but she just played it off like she’d thought she’d seen bubbles. Girls loved bubbles, right?

She walked away, gritting her teeth and cursing silently and corrosively. She’d been able to read enough of his handwriting upside down, to know she was being screened out. Something about risk assessment, something else about Opali degeneracy and a racial predisposition to pirating, as well as the security of state secrets.

But she had also seen Sada’s name. Faint tingles of alarm ran up and down the back of her neck. Following Sada’s instructions, Mila had taken the utmost pains to hide any connection or association with him throughout her admissions process. Together they had crafted a watertight cover story, or legend, as he called it. Mila was sure that if there was anything solid linking her to him, she would have already received summons from the Ministry of Inquisition. So it had to be conjecture. Right?

What did they know? A defected alchemist with access to classified secrets, likely in hiding in one of the Common Cities. A promising alchemy student from one of those cities, where alchemists were rare, applies for admission to the University. It wouldn’t be too hard to make guesses, draw conclusions. Perhaps the legend had been too watertight. That would also be a clue.

“Mila!”

She had been so deep in thought that she’d pushed her way out of the building without noticing and she was now standing in a courtyard. It was windy and cold. Wet but not raining.

Roxa had been waiting for her outside. She’d stubbornly insisted on sticking to Mila like a protective shadow all week.

“Hi,” said Mila, a little absently.

“Hi yourself. How’d it go?”

Mila grimaced.

“That bad, huh?”

Mila chewed her lip and stared at the gleaming gray stonework. “I’m to be screened out.”

“Damn.” Roxa looked appropriately concerned on her behalf. Which was impressive, because Mila hadn’t told her why she needed to get into this class. Only that it was important. Roxa had accepted this at face value, as she accepted everything Mila had told her, without pushing to know more. Maybe she thought it was a fair price to pay for being allowed to act as her friend’s bodyguard.

After all, even the most charming company—and Roxa was easily that—ran the risk of grating when it was constant and forced by circumstance. Mila was endlessly grateful for their rapidly sweetening friendship and all the ways it was making the new arrangement tolerable, even comforting.

“All may not be lost. I do have one idea.” Mila turned her gaze up to meet Roxa’s and felt a thin smile slip onto her face. “But first, I need you to tell me everything you know about Aralia Cordivar.”

~ ~ ~

They took one of the longer, less crowded ways back to Stormcroft, and slipped in through a servant’s entrance. Roxa went first and Mila followed close, up the narrow back staircase to the third floor, and down the corridor to their room. Roxa muttered the keys to the wards on their door and opened it carefully, then shut it behind her roommate and reactivated them. Mila kicked off her shoes, flopped down into Roxa’s overstuffed couch and released a pent-up sigh. Roxa started a kettle boiling with a finger wave and followed suit. It began raining, lightly at first, then with an increasing rattle as heavy drops struck the tall windows next to them.

They both stared at a print pinned to the opposite wall—one of Roxa’s, of course. It was a woodcut of a landscape of steep, forested pinnacles and precipices, ferns dripping thickly down cliffs alongside the slender streaks of waterfalls. Thick flocks composed of many different kinds of birds swirled in and out of cloudbursts.

After a while, Mila asked, “Does it truly look like that, your home?”

Roxa flashed her a grin. “It looks so much more like that than you would even believe.”

Mila smiled back. “You brag.”

Roxa chuckled but did not defend herself. “What about Opali? Don’t they call it the city of bells?”

“It’s drier. And warmer. And friendlier,” said Mila blankly, staring off. She looked back at Roxa. “I miss it. I miss it so much that I worry about remembering it too often, because it aches.”

Roxa nodded quietly. The kettle sang, and she went to pour tea. After an efficient bustle, she handed Mila a steaming mug and sat back down with one herself. The glass of the windows was covered in a clear sheet of rivulets and sliding drops.

“I would like to tell you, though,” said Mila abruptly. Then, softly, “It feels like it might help.”

Roxa nodded again, that same nod of quiet acceptance.

Mila began to speak slowly, hesitantly. She began by describing the belltowers, their different musics, their peals separate and combined, the great need that led to their existence, their placement and relationships to the markets, to the shrines, the parades that went between them, the calendar of festivals that depended on them, the feeling of surging down the streets with her friends as part of the crowd, caught up in the energy and laughter and chanting.

She was speaking faster, her face and voice alive, excited. She told Roxa about her friends, about going together to gather seabird eggs from the cliff nests above the sea, about gathering herbs together—she hesitated and glossed over what she and her friends had been doing with the herbs—learning to sail and fish, the clouds of tiny glowing creatures that lived in the waves—

A wash of self-consciousness doused Mila and she closed her mouth mid-sentence and looked at her lap. She flushed dark red, suddenly aware that she’d been oversharing like a geyser, like a flood breaching a levee wall. Roxa must think she was desperately lonely to dump on her like this. She looked back up.

Roxa’s eyes were fastened on hers. She exhaled deeply, like she’d just woken from a dream or finished drinking deeply from a wide cup. There was a small silence between them.

“Thank you,” said Roxa softly.

Then—“I would dearly love to visit your city one day, Mila. If I were welcome to.”

Mila smiled.

~ ~ ~

It was after dinner and they were both back on the couch, studying and scribbling by amber magelight. Roxa put down her book with a grunt and stood to stretch, and pretended not to see Mila looking at her ass. She did smirk to herself, though.

After a minute Mila thumped her book closed too. Roxa turned to find her roommate looking at her frankly.

“Cordivar?”

“Cordivar.”

“Got a crush?”

“Ha. What if I do?”

“Why do you think I know more about her? Aren’t you the one that has a class with her?”

Mila actually was taking Aralia’s course in advanced alchemy this term, but—

“I want to hear what you’ll say,” said Mila. Her smile had a hint of challenge in it. She was beginning to suspect that Roxa’s training went further than just a noble’s understanding of courtly politics and power games.

“All right.” Roxa began to do some limbering stretches. Her voice changed subtly—she began to sound as if she was making a report.

“Well, as you may know, Aralia Cordivar is probably the single favorite subject of gossip in the whole University. She is said to hail from Jyll, an Imperial colony to the south of Yavan proper. A narrow peninsula that connects this continent to the subcontinent. They are traders, and always have been. Literal middlemen. Anyway, she’s supposed to be a commoner—”

“I heard she’s from a rich family,” Mila interrupted.

Roxa shrugged. “Probably. Or at least prosperous. That she knows her way around power is clear as day. However, she seemed to have showed no connections to Yavanese technocracy before she appeared here ten years ago, with the highest merit scores anyone had ever seen. I’ve heard her called many different things but I’ve never heard anyone impugn her intelligence or her competence. Did you know, she’s still the youngest person ever admitted here? She got here at age fifteen, and caused quite the stir here at that time, trouncing all these old, stuck up pricks at their own game. This was right after Harmine started admitting girls and by all accounts it was even rougher than it is now. She arrived here with a better grasp on alchemy than some teachers—she breezed through classes and was doing cutting edge research faster than anyone could believe. She graduated with flying colors and was immediately retained as a researcher. Then they gave her a lab to run. Then they gave her the entire Special Research department. Smart money says she’ll be an Imperial technocrat in five years.” Roxa rolled her eyes. “And she’s our age—less than a year older.”

“No enemies?”

Roxa laughed shortly. “Oh, she has enemies. Or rather, she’s had enemies. She’s survived more rivals and grudges and powerful misogynists who took a dislike to her than I have fingers, and those are just the ones I’ve heard about.” Roxa shook her head admiringly. “She’s more than survived them, she’s come out on top every time. Honestly, it’s pretty inspiring.”

“She must have the backing of powerful people inside the Ministry of Social Hygiene,” Mila mused. “I wonder if she’s a part of any faction?”

“One of the things the rumor mills can’t agree on is her agenda,” Roxa admitted. “She’s obviously got the right loyalties or she wouldn’t have been allowed her current post. But she’s also fiercely protected her own independence and kept herself relatively unbound. She’s not beholden to anyone, as far as I can tell.”

“Everyone’s beholden to someone,” said Mila softly.

Roxa watched her dark eyes shine in the warm light. “So they are.”

~ ~ ~

Let nobody say that Aralia Cordivar enjoyed teaching, Mila mused, watching her finish the lecture with a quarter bell left before the end of class and gesture her assistant forward to begin taking questions on the material. Aralia slipped some notes into her briefcase, straightened her immaculately dark, sharply cut coat, and made a beeline for the door.

Mila, having slipped out some minutes earlier to position herself on the other side of that same door, took a step back from the window and drew a preparatory breath.

The door opened.

“Professor—” She began and was immediately cut off.

“Factor,” corrected Cordivar. She didn’t slow down, just plowed forward, looking straight ahead.

Mila fell in next to Aralia. Getting the most meaning out of the least words would serve her well, with this one.

“Factor Cordivar, I’m a merit student who would otherwise qualify for your Apomasaics course, but I’ve been screened out because of my ‘racial qualities’”—she let a little honest bitterness creep into those last words, because it might help her cause—“and you are the only one who can give me a fair shot.”

Aralia turned to look at her, without slowing her pace. Mila felt the impact as those golden-ringed eyes met hers. She had to remind herself that this person was barely older than her. The look on Aralia’s face was amused and thoughtful.

“You’re one of my students, aren’t you?” She gestured behind them, towards the classroom. Mila noticed that Aralia smelled good, like spicewood and leather.

“Yes, Factor.” Mila was surprised she’d noticed.

“Very well. My office,” she said, gesturing to a flight of stairs in front of them. Mila followed her down a broad, high-ceiling corridor to a oaken door, and into an large, comfortable office. One entire wall was made of glass, and looked out over a steep slate rooftop. Aralia sat behind a large desk and gestured for Mila to sit as well. Mila did. The whole room had her scent.

Aralia looked at her intently for a few moments, then brought out a fresh, creamy white sheet of paper and a pen.

“What’s your name?”

“Mila Finnocia.”

“And where are you from?” Aralia’s face was unreadable as she scribbled.

“Opali.”

“Ahhh.”

Mila wondered what that meant.

“Do you understand what you are asking for, Mila?”

“I am making an appeal for entry into your upcoming course on the basis of merit,” said Mila stiffly. “You said applicants would be screened on the basis of merit and merit alone. That’s all I’m asking for.”

Her stomach was jumping with anxiety. She knew her guardedness was obvious. If this worked, it would be a worthwhile gambit. If not, she would have stuck her neck out where her interest could be noticed and conclusions drawn from it, with nothing gained. She was beginning to suspect that Aralia could deduce quite a lot of information from everything she said and even more from everything she didn’t say. She was quite possibly revealing more than she wished Aralia to know every single second she spent in here.

Aralia made a gesture of open invitation. “And I will admit a certain sympathy for your cause. I think you’re one of the sharpest students in that class, actually. And I rather like it when I can sneak foreign merit students by the loyalists. But here in the Imperiat, as you must know by now, everything has a price. If I am to do this for you, are you willing to do something for me, someday?”

Mila was silent. A part of her leapt impatiently and immediately to say yes. This was so important after all—it was the whole reason she had come this far. Another part of her was spinning with questions and mistrust. Aralia made all her internal alarms scream careful! The idea of being beholden to someone like this scared her. She had stayed silent too long already. She was revealing too much. She needed to put terms on this.

“To return a favor to you comparable to what I am asking for now?”

Aralia’s golden eyes studied her keenly. “No, Mila. Let me be utterly clear. In return for this, you will do as I ask. As to what exactly constitutes a ‘comparable’ favor, the discretion is mine and mine alone. And you will tell no one of our arrangement.”

Mila’s mind raced. She threw caution to the winds and tried one last time. “Factor, I’ve heard small pieces of your own story. You know what it’s like here for me because you’ve been in the same position. But you can change that—you can make it go differently this time! Please, I’m asking you as one foreign girl to another, one merit student to another, help me as you wish someone would have helped you.”

Mila held her breath in the silence that followed, hanging on any shift in Aralia’s expression that might signal a change of heart. For a second she thought she saw something in Aralia’s gold-ringed eyes that could have been sadness, or perhaps pity.

“Let me give you a piece of advice, Mila. Consider it my first act of mentorship, if you like. You cannot wield their power except by playing their game, by their rules. If you cannot stomach the decisions they will force on you, it’s best to admit that and get out now, before you come to grief that will break you. There are other kinds of power, after all, other ways to achieve your ends. Some would say better ways.”

She leaned forward, her gaze burning into Mila’s. “But, if you will do anything to achieve your ends, and I mean anything, and if you decide to use their means, then you must keep going forward no matter what, no matter who you find in your way, no matter how lonely and hard it gets. Or everything and everyone you have ever sacrificed will have been wasted.”

She drew back. Mila swallowed hard with a dry mouth. This version of Aralia seemed suddenly much older and grimmer than her years, as if her mask had dropped, just a little.

“Now. Do you understand me?”

Mila drew a breath and tried to keep her voice steady and casual. “I...suppose I am amenable to your offer.”

“Excellent,” said Aralia briskly. She casually placed a squat, fist-sized device on the paper and her fingers flew over it and punched in a sequence of buttons. There was a hiss and a staccato series of red and white flashes of light, and when she lifted the device off, there was a gleaming alchemical seal embossed on the paper.

“This note will supersede any screening. Take it to the Vonhale administration building by next week. As for our arrangement, here.”

She clicked a small round object onto the desk and slid it and the note across. It was a coin, but not one Mila recognized. There was some sort of script or series of sigils engraved around the rim and it had a square hole in the center.

“When I need to talk to you, this coin will heat up noticeably. Wear it close to your skin.”

And then, with a gesture, Aralia dismissed her.

Mila slowly reached out and took both objects. Her heart felt very heavy and divided. It was beginning to sink in that she had been out-maneuvered. She opened her mouth to ask if Aralia had specifically directed that clerk to screen her out in order to bait this trap, then decided it didn’t matter. Nothing useful would be gained by asking. There were only lies and illusions here for her. She closed her mouth and left.

She wandered out of the building in something between a daze and a fury. Damn. Damn. Is that what Mila would become, if she let what was inside her consume and grow and take over? If she gave in completely to her Yavanese instinct for using people as instruments, as objects?

In some ways she had just come face to face with her own worst nightmare, seen in the mirror. And she had gotten what she’d needed, though at a steep cost. She was in the class, and she might even benefit from Aralia’s protection in it. The transaction stung, to be sure. She was in a spider’s web now. But worst of all, she could not deny her fascination with Aralia.

Mila groaned. She’d first noticed it in class. She’d been hoping it could be dismissed as mere attraction to the brooding savant, simply a matter of physical desire that would disintegrate with proximity. But now that she’d sat near her, felt the magnetic draw of her gaze and voice and smell, she knew that she was fucked. Mila Finnocia, like a wide-eyed first-termer, had the hots for Aralia Cordivar.

Shit.

_____________________________________

[pandoa]

a cat and his henchman: a grim tale

in which grim awakes to find himself surrounded by blue flames and the burned ruins of night raven college. not to worry, though! his henchman is there to save them from this predicament! but, where was his henchman to begin with?

~grim x platonic!gender neutral reader~ ~word count: 1418~

warnings: angst, mentions of blood and death note: this is based off the twst theory that grim will eventually overblot and mc will be forced to fight the cat-like beast. thank you~

“(Y/n)!” Ace’s voice rang in the flaming room, catching a certain prefect’s attention.

“What in Twisted Wonderland are you doing?!”

The prefect turned to face their two friends, Ace and Deuce, with a petrified but unwavering look present in their eyes. Grim was out of control and if Crowley refused to help them for the thousandth time, someone had to stop him. 

Even a mere human with no magical abilities such as themselves would have to do.

“I’m saving Grim!” (Y/n) replied back.

The Adeuce duo glanced at one another, concern for their friend clearly shown in their facial expressions.

“Saving him?! (Y/n) you’re insane if you think you can stop this!” 

Deuce added on to Ace’s chiding, his tone a bit softer as he gazed at the prefect, “(Y/n), there’s a big chance you won’t survive. . .”

The prefect sighed, sorrow woven in the next words they said.

“Then I suppose I’m taking that risk. For Grim.” Screeching roars that could destroy one’s hearing enveloped the mirror chambers as the magicless freshman faced their beloved cat companion and friend.

Whatever happened next was fair game, and the prefect was determined to bring Grim back. Even if the price was their own mortal life.

.

.

.

.

.

Huh?

Wha..what’s going on?

Rising up from a strange pile of gravel, Grim lifted his throbbing head to see scorching flames of blue scattered across what he assumed to be NRC’s mirror chambers. Blazing fire threatened his fur-covered body as he peered at the unusual, deathly flames.

These look familiar. . .

Meh, probably nothing, the fish-loving cat voiced in his mind as he began to carefully roam around the premises, investigating each charred remains of the disintegrating building. What exactly happened here to make the school look like a tuna slice burnt on a stick, he did not know. And frankly, he did not think he wished to know with the college’s track record of overblot incidents and deranged teenagers, honestly. Crowley should really do a better job on keeping track of these students’ mental health. One day some crazy strong kid could end up destroying the whole school if they’re not careful! Grim shook his head in shame at the saddening thought. 

Nah, no way that would happen. (Y/n) could definitely beat that brat to shame with their little therapy sessions, haha! Brushing off his daunting imagination, Grim lazily rounded a corner in search of an exit only to yet again encounter-

More sapphire tinted flames. Okay, now this was just getting annoying. The small beast sighed in frustration as he mindlessly turned around, grumbling about his rumbling stomach as if anyone was there to listen to his incessant whines. Walking past the fallen pieces of gravel, numerous glass shards, and other items he couldn’t even make out if he tried, Grim made sure to keep his soft tail from being consumed by the dancing fires spread out on the jagged floors. 

To say he was lost was an understatement.

Nothing in this stupid college looked the same. Chandeliers were shattered, roofs were missing, walls were crumbling, eerie smoke filled the air he breathed, and traces of black ink seeped into the carpet. Really, all Grim wished to see was a plump bed waiting for his arrival since he felt unusually exhausted, as if he had just fought in a never-ending war with the most powerful of mages. Maybe I just need an extra lengthy cat nap, Grim pondered whilst releasing a loud yawn into the echoing chamber. I’ll just find the exit and then-

Eh?

A small glimpse of your (h/c) locks sprawled along the ground was enough for the feline to immediately dash towards your side, relief evident on his furry face. Thank the Seven he found you! He would have been stranded had he not spotted you (not that he would admit that to his minion of course) so seeing you sparked a joy that could rival free premium tuna served to him straight from the can! Ah, Grim drooled at his predictable cravings. Simply delectable. 

Snapping out of his trance, Grim soon reached your familiar frame, hollering out to catch your attention. 

“Hey! Henchman!,” he shouted, “Quit screwing around so we can go back to Ramshackle! I’m starving here!”

Grim halted mid-step, confusion racing in and out his mind upon noticing the sight before him.

Huh?

“Henchman, why are you on the ground? Has Leona’s sorry habit of napping in random places gotten to you?”

Cautiously, the small beast took slow, careful steps closer to your resting body. What was all that gunk on you? Sweat, black ink he knew certainly hadn't come from you, and. . . red liquid? Feeling his heart rate suddenly drop, Grim peered down to your disheveled NRC uniform. It had been entirely covered with the scarlet substance. 

What-

What are those marks on your skin?

Was this another failure of one of Ace and Deuce’s alchemy experiments?

Grim, impatiently, began poking at your side.

“Why won’t you answer me, Henchman?”

Growing irritated at your current predicament, the cat wasted no time in proceeding to vigorously shake you, in hopes that you would finally gain consciousness. What’s gotten into you?! The henchman he knew wouldn’t laze around like this! This has gotta be one of Ace’s pranks, right?! Right?! New, raging fear surged throughout the feline’s petite stature.

“Open your eyes!”

“The Great Grim is in your presence for Seven’s sake!” Grim exclaimed, tossing his hands in the air to emphasize his statement.

“C’mon! You can tell me why the whole building is burned down while we walk back home to Ramshackle! I’m sure it’s an amusing tale, hehe.”

Grim chuckled at his antics. Surely there was some sort of explanation regarding the ruined state of Night Raven College, right? All that was left to do was to wake you up from your rather deep slumber and both you and him could be on your merry way out of the burning building. Grim reached out for your oddly pale hand, only to retract his grip almost in an instant, however, feeling a chilling shiver run down his torso the moment his paw touched your limp arm.

Cold.

Your body, despite laying down beside a nearby fire, was cold. 

“Henchman. . .?”

“Hey, I’m not joking anymore, this isn’t funny!”

Grim’s senses sharpened. Something definitely was not right.

“Henchman!”

“Henchman get up!”

Furry paws grasped your shoulders with a frightening grip as he shook you even more, panic striking his trembling voice.

“(Y/N)!!!!!”

Then, in what seemed like a flash, visions of a terrible beast raising havoc among the NRC students and teachers alike invaded his memories with a resounding throb to his head. Was that him? Was all this his doing? More memories played through his mind as if his own conscience was taunting him. Dark magic soared across the mirror chambers, students filed out of the chaos, he exerted black, oozing blot, and you. 

You.

You appeared, terrified and fumbling over your own feet, attempting to reach wherever he was in his unhinged state while gripping a gruesome wound to your side. Blasts of his blue fire were aimed at you, taking you down with each blow. You were dying.

No, no, no!

Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop!

Unwanted memories continued to play in the feline’s head. What was real? What was fake? Grim’s very grasp of reality dissipated into nothingness as he paid no more mind to his surroundings. There’s no way he could have done this! No way!

Grim began to lose sight of whatever logical thinking he had left. Where was he? Why wouldn’t you stand up? What day was it? Where were Ace and Deuce? The small beast felt trickles of water droplets fall from his eye to his cheek. Was it raining? Why did it feel so odd to smile past his pain?

From the corner of his peripheral vision, Grim could recognize a shining black stone that could only be the result of a devastating overblot. Rage boiled within him. Piercing screeches were heard miles away as he broke down with disbelief. 

Stop fooling around already!

Grim collapsed to his exhausted knees, paying no mind to the way the deathly liquid dripping from your stomach slightly stained his gray fur.

(Y/n). . .

The cat clutched the prefect’s torn sleeve, filling the air with a final cry, similar to the wails of a lost child on the street.

“Come home with me. . .”

“Please. .”

a/n: i love angst

[wito-chan-bla-bla]

Ways of love

Morax just wants to learn human emotions from you! Okay, maybe he's a little jealous because you're hugging and kissing your friend. Maybe he wants you to hug and love only him. But he's God, so don't ask questions and just help him learn to show love like his people do!

~

Warnings: I do not know if people consider strange hints in the text and mentions of hickeys as a warning, but... I'll just leave this text here.

~

From the very moment you appeared in this world, you have been close to people. You were the spirit of the waterfall, so you constantly saw how mortals communicate next to you, fish, swim in the waters of the lake nearby. You liked this people.

Therefore, after Morax came to your territory and offered to become his servant, you decided to agree. 

 You liked people, you didn't want them to suffer. You didn't know Morax then, but you felt that he was capable of breaking your neck with two fingers. What can we say about the bodies of mortals.

So, at the moment you were walking next to your god, looking at happy people. It seems that they soon have some kind of holiday that has nothing to do with the gods they worship. 

 Mortals were running back and forth in the village, hugging, laughing and even kissing. You looked with a small smile at how ordinary people, who were pathetic bugs compared to the gods, behave so charmingly.

–What are they doing, (Y/N)? 

 You stopped, almost bumping into the back of your god. Hastily stepping back, you coughed and decided to clarify:

–What are you talking about, my God?

–I'm talking about those people, – the dragon pointed to the spouses who were hugging. Suddenly a little girl ran up to them, and the man picked her up in his arms, spun her around and kissed her on the cheek.

–I suppose that's how mortals show affection. Hugs and kisses on the cheek are ways to show other mortals that you love them as a friend.

–How do people show that they love each other as lovers? Those spouses also hugged.

You frowned at Morax. Why did he decide to talk about it? You frowned harder, but answered:

–Usually people do the same. But hugs become more intimate and strong, people kiss each other not only on the cheeks, but also on the lips.

–So this is how mortals show their feelings... 

 God muttered, and then quickly began to walk forward. You rode from behind, watching the dragon's tail move quickly and barely noticeably from side to side. What was he up to?

*+*

Your eyes were covered with small palms, someone giggled from behind.

–Guess who?

You touched the palms of a familiar creature and smiled. After shouting out the name, you turned around sharply to see an old friend. The young guy was the spirit of a small forest, next to which was your waterfall. So, you and him quickly became good friends. This was greatly facilitated by the common love for mortal people.

When Morax arrived, your friend's territory was also "in danger", so he also decided to join the alliance with you. He also loved people and learned a lot from them, so after taking his current form for people, he was indistinguishable from an ordinary mortal. You put your hands on your hips and swayed from side to side.

–Who else would dare to touch the great me, besides you, m?

–You didn't notice the attack from behind, so you're not that great... he shrugged, spreading his hands.

–But I can easily defeat you in a fair fight!

–Can we check it out?

–I will fight for my god so I don't lose!"

You jumped on your friend, starting to poke him under the sides. The Immortals weren't afraid of being tickled, but he laughed anyway, until eventually he squeezed you in his arms.

You were constantly fighting the enemies of your god or visiting mortals to discuss matters concerning themselves with them, so such moments were truly precious. 

 You involuntarily remember those times when you were just a spirit splashing water on trees so that your friend would come and play with you.

You continued to be hugged and pressed to your chest. Suddenly, footsteps were heard, and both spirits turned their heads. God froze at the end of the corridor. Pulling away from each other, the immortals bowed low and greeted their lord.

Morax was slowly approaching. Your back started to hurt when he stopped, his bare feet finally became visible. God ordered the creatures to raise their heads.

–What can we do for you, my God? your friend asked, looking not at all scared. Sometimes you wanted to hit him for his stupid fearlessness.

–You... nothing, – he answered rudely, turning to you. This is my end, isnt it? – I've been thinking for a long time about what you said about people's relationships with each other, (Y/N). And I think I have to study it all myself to understand how to rule the people.

You exhaled with relief. It looks like everything will be fine… Wait, wait a minute… Why is he looking at me like that?..

You barely restrained yourself from screaming when the tall god embraced you. His tail hit the floor hard, hitting your friend's leg. He didn't even move a millimeter, although he was clearly in a bit of pain.

You felt the blush spreading across your face when Morax pressed you into his bare chest. But you could only hug him back by placing your right cheek on his bare skin. You heard out of the corner of your ear how God was sniffing the air next to you, but you chose to focus on hugging.

When he pulled away, his scent was all around you, the warmth of his embrace was still felt on your skin. Morax's cheeks were a little red. He turned around and quickly walked away.

Your friend just laughed at your excited face and, grabbing your hands, offered to go have fun somewhere else.

*+*

You talked to people, figuring out what they need, what they lack. Your friend played with the children nearby, entertaining them by creating flowers in his hands, and then destroying them, turning them into colored dust.

Suddenly your friend "attacked" you from behind, turned you around to face him and danced. The dust created by him from flowers flew up, coloring your hair in different colors.

–W-what happened? – you asked in surprise, however, starting to dance with the spirit.

–Children are asking for a dance of the guardians of nature! Come on, (Y/N), let's show them everything we have!

You laughed and started making silly movements, holding hands with your friend. Usually such dances were perceived as part of a marriage ceremony between spirits, but sometimes it was considered just a form of friendly intimacy. But since this definitely shouldn't happen in front of everyone, especially people, it definitely wasn't a marriage ceremony.

Well, you were hoping that no one would think it was a marriage ceremony. You continued to dance with your friend, sometimes kissing him on the cheeks. In the original, these movements were the transfer of a part of the force, but in your case it was just a friendly gesture. And even if the kisses were too frequent, your friend was still just a friend!

But it seems that Geo's overlord didn't like it. For how to explain the fact that suddenly a big crack appeared behind your friend, into which he should fall? And would have fallen if the spirit of the forest had not fallen on you! He just jerked, and now you are already flying to the ground. Fortunately, your body was quite durable, and a friend's hand held your head from behind so that you wouldn't hit it, so everything was fine.

Your friend was on top of you, his lips close to your neck. The spirit suddenly laughed and clung to your neck, blowing sharply into it. You screamed and giggled, trying to deal with the tickling by kicking him, but he never left. In the end, it ended up with your face being kissed as an apology. It was more like a puppy licking the owner's face than really showing sympathy, but still...

When the earth shook, powerfully, but imperceptibly for mortals, you felt that you were in trouble.

*+*

–What can I do for you, my God? –  you asked, sitting on one knee in front of the throne on which Morax was sitting. You didn't dare raise your head at him because his aura was dark and fear-inducing.

–I've seen you and the little spirit of the forest show... sympathy for each other. I'd like to get a better look at your relationship, since you've spent so much time around people.

–Oh, my God, I assure you, this is just a friendly expression of sympathy. This will not interfere in any way with my work as your... – Morax was next to you in a second and easily lifted you up with his big and strong hands, – s-servants. M-my God? – you squeaked.

–So this is how people show friendly affection for each other?

–Well, uh, not really... but!..

–Then I'm going to understand how friendly and romantic affection differ. And you will help me in this.

Your cheeks are flushed. Morax put you on the floor, but he only let you mumble: “M-my God, what do you mean?.." – and then he hugged you hard.

You abruptly crashed into the immortal's chest, bumping your nose a little. But you were more focused not on the pain, but on the tail, which wrapped around your legs, forcing you only to press closer to the Morax. Well, now you definitely couldn't escape.

You wanted to try to ask the question again, but at that moment God's lips pressed against yours, and all thoughts were disconnected.

It was... a bad kiss. A very bad kiss. Morax kissed you so sharply that you bit your lip, and his teeth hit yours. However, God still continued to press his lips to your lips, cupping your face with his palms.

You put your hands on top of him and gently moved away to make the kiss pleasant and comfortable. Inside you were suffocating and just screaming. But for everyone else, you just closed your eyes and continued to kiss your god. (Although not that anyone was in the room to see it).

When Morax broke away from you, you had another chance for asking a question, but you already knew that it wouldn't work. And you were right! Geo Lord kissed you on the lips again, this time softer and more tender. He realized that he had done something wrong, and tried to correct himself.

The second time was much better. He made sure not to put too much pressure on you and your body. One of his hands rested on your waist, the other continued to rest on your cheek. The tail loosened its grip. Soon Morax was kissing you freely and calmly on the lips, cheeks, forehead, temples and chin. His rough actions quickly became soft and gentle. He was growling something, but you never knew the language of animals. Especially the true language of dragons.

In the end, Morax put his forehead on yours, as your friend did, but there was already a certain intimacy in this particular action. The dragon kissed you again, and in this kiss you could literally hear the words: "You are my treasure, I will not give you to anyone."

Or you imagined it. Who knows?

When the god finally came off, his cheeks were red. He asked with interest and innocence:

–Did I manage to understand well what to do with my lover?

–Ah-h?

You blushed harder and swallowed, trying to calm your wildly beating heart. You were afraid that the dragon would say after your answer: "Great. Then I'll go to Guizhong", – and just leave. But he didn't.

–That's how… That's fine,  – despite the words, you were not allowed to go anywhere. Only they pressed her closer to them, putting her head on top of her head. – I have a task for you, (Y/N).

–Y-yes? – you heard how fast his heart was beating.

–I want you to find out what other ways of showing romantic love people have and come to me with a report.

–Uh... okay. Is it possible to ask what you are going to do with this information next?

Morax leaned over, gently kissing you on the nose.

–I'm going to practice with you.

Your cheeks are flushed more. Morax hugged you to him like a small child hugging a toy. The dragon purred contentedly, his tail wrapped tightly around your legs again.

Your heart was beating fast in ears. Even without going to people, you knew what you could teach your god…

–May I show you how else you can show love?

–Yes. You can start now, (Y/N).

Bonus (?)

–So-o, what did you get? Judging by those cute purple spots on your skin, everything was fun!

–S-shut up. This does not concern human affection at all. This is his dragon side.

–But I did a good job, didn't I? No, of course I love you, my dear friend, but showing such open affection is still not really my style. Even if it shows my love for you as my dearest friend, – your friend, the spirit of the forest, put his arm around your shoulders and kissed you on the cheek. – Even if you have another man in your life, do you promise that you will not forget me? Yes? Yes?

You irritably shouted his name and began to poke in the sides, began to tickle. As a result, they were on top of their friend again, hugging him by the neck.

At that moment, Morax came into the room, frozen in the aisle. By his aura alone, you felt that this time would definitely not end with simple kisses…