#i am slowly but surely crawling out of my art block

[aether-weather]

have a beepo doodle as a token of gratitude for over 300 notes on my last post!! :DD

and in one day too!! ive never had a post blow up that fast!! thank you so much!!

[samanthamarkle92]

Hey everyone! Some background before the story starts. I am most definitely NOT a gamer, but I had looked at some video game fan art, fics, and trivia videos for characters in my post-apocalyptic story that features a military character. The Last Of Us, Resident Evil, and Call Of Duty were the top ones. It was a major story arc in Call Of Duty: Modern Warfare 2, that got the writer in me. Hope I make the fans happy! Here's the gist; fan-favorite Simon “Ghost” Riley survives getting shot by General Shepard. Stranded in Afghanistan, he is rescued by a local woman and her younger brother. Hope you guys like it! I plan on posting this on Wattpad if I get it finished. Until then, I’ll be putting them here! Much love to @nsharks and @loonyundead ❤️ @cheezbites @ladyelissarose

The heavy odor of gasoline and burning flesh was what brought him back to consciousness. The pain in his chest felt like it was going to rip open from the inside. Then there were his arms, they were covered in blood, the sticky liquid soaking through his clothes. It all came flooding back, the smell, the gunfire, the screaming.

‘Oh, God…’

He tried to move, but pain radiated from his chest. The knit fabric of his mask stuck to his skin from the dried blood. He could feel the heat of flames, and realized he was lying in a puddle of gasoline. His gun still lay beside him. With difficulty he lifted himself up into an upright position. He manage to crawl onto the dry dust. A smoldering charred body lay nearby.

Roach.

Ghost gagged on bile.

‘Sorry, mate.’

Ghost rested his back against a rusted-out truck, trying to get his bearings. He saw the bullet hole in his fatigues. The bullet had tore through his tactical vest, lodging in his shoulder. He felt around his wound. There was no exit wound. Just a jagged, bloody tear through the fabric. If he hadn’t been wearing his vest underneath, then he’d probably be dead. As hurt as he was, he couldn't stay where he was. He saw the path out of the boneyard, leading towards the road beyond. He took one last look at Roach, his face distorted and unrecognizable as anything more than a smear of burned flesh. And then Ghost left the carnage. His legs felt weak, and when he put too much weight on them, a wave of dizziness washed over him. He kept moving forward, slowly. He knew he couldn't trust anyone now; an American leader had betrayed them. Who else was in danger? He thought hard....he was a British SAS soldier....could there be a UK unit out there? He could maybe make it to one of their camps, but if he got there, would there be any protection? He had to be careful not to draw attention to himself.

There must have been soldiers in that area. He just hoped he could find them before his leg gave out. He wasn’t sure how long he traveled through the desert. The pain was worse than the hunger and thirst.

He almost rubbed his eyes to make sure what he was seeing was real; a house. It sat away from the main village, which was further down the valley. It was cement block, with a wall where the yard was. A garden grew outside, sparse and patchy, but it looked relatively healthy. It was dark though. A well! He was too thirsty to think of anything else. The house itself seemed untouched, although it may have been abandoned during the war.

He moved closer to investigate. Maybe some fresh water and food. He didn't notice the young boy kicking the battered soccer ball until he was almost to the well. The boy froze as soon as he spotted Ghost.

‘Fuck. Should have taken my mask off.’ he thought. He lifted the bottom part up so the kid could see his chin, that he’d know it was just a mask and not a blood soaked monster that had walked out of nowhere. Did the kid even know English?

Ghost didn't speak Farsi either, but he guessed it wouldn’t make much difference.

“Hey. I mean you no harm.”he offered with a smile. The boy stared at him for several moments and then slowly nodded, still staring.

“You’re alone here?” he asked. He was starting to feel dizzy, but tried to stay on his feet. That little movement was enough to knock all the remaining energy out of him. He slumped to the ground, feeling the earth shake under him. What was happening? Was this the end? Was that why everything had happened? Because he was losing his shit in front of this kid? The door to the wall opened, and Ghost saw a swirl of bright blue. A woman, covered from head to toe in a burqa, entered. She approached Ghost. His heart stopped. This was it! He was about to die! She’d hand him over to some terrorist group. But then she kneeled next to him, placed her hand gently on his forehead. She spoke softly to him, in English. For the first time ever, he heard someone speak English!

Ghost was exhausted and confused. Had he really died? It was one word, but it was the last thing he heard before he passed out.

“Safe.”

[starlit-hopes-and-dreams]

You asked for a range, so - 16, 36, 61, and 90 :D From your latest ask game.

-verkja

Thanks for the ask @verkja! From this ask game.

16: Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band?

Answered here. Kinda. 😂

I kinda cheated, so I'll answer it again, but a little differently.

I've been told my favorite band was Pink Floyd when I was really young. Like toddler age.

And in grade school, I loved Garth Brooks.

It appears my tastes have changed drastically lol.

36: Define Art.

Ooooh. Art. You know, I am super literal and once upon a time I would've said art is when you draw/paint/sculpt something. Decorate a museum kind of thing. But today? On a broader scale, I think art is just the act of creating something. Art is creativity, brought to life.

61: Are you wearing socks right now?

lol. no. but I do wear slippers when walking around my house. no bare feet on the floor 😶

90: One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do?

MUMMIES?! Like, plural? 😨😨

Err, I was just gonna say I'd probably freeze and have a panic attack or something, but instead, I typed out something goes bump in the night as a joke, and it turned into a whole ass short story 😅😂 Under the cut. No warnings.

Something goes bump in the night. Drowsily, I turn over and try to go back to sleep, but I hear a shuffle. Damn cat must've gotten locked in the bedroom again. I better go let it out. Using the light from my phone's screen to see, because turning on the lamp will fucking blind me, I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed, only to find my way blocked. Huh?

I turn on my flashlight and look up into the black soulless pits that exist where a mummy's eyes should be. My heart stops in my chest, and I make the only noise I'm capable of making when I'm shocked senseless. *meep* I scramble back into bed, wildly waving my flashlight around. Mummies surround my bed, arms outstretched, trailing ragged strips of linen where their wrappings have degraded.

I have no idea what to do. My heart has resumed beating in a rhythm so frantic that it feels like my entire body is vibrating. To escape, I'd have to actually *touch* a mummy to push it out of my way. What if it grabs me instead? I huddle against the headboard, frozen with indecision.

Time passes, and nothing happens. I'm a little more confused than scared now, and I look at my phone, wondering if I should call someone. It's late, and even if they answered, who would believe me? So I dare to take a picture. If I'm gonna die tonight, let there at least be proof. And if by some miracle I don't die, I still want the fucking proof, because goddamn. This is fucking insane.

The mummies don't react to the flash of the camera. Hmm, maybe it's safe to leave after all. I take a few more pictures, just to be super sure nothing will happen, then slowly crawl across the bed. Gathering my nerve, I poke a mummy in the chest with my phone, then scramble back. Nothing. No reaction.

Alright then. It's hard to breathe as I actually contemplate doing this. But I don't see many other options here. And I'm not gonna just sit here and wait for the mummies to decide to act. So I very carefully climb out of bed and gently squeeze past two mummies, trying to make as little contact as possible. I creep out of my room, locking the door from the inside before I close it, and run. I run out of the house and lock myself in my car. Oh god oh god oh god. What the hell was that????

I can't just leave mummies in my house. It's fucking cold outside, and I don't have my keys. That was fucking stupid, but there's no way in fucking hell I'm going back inside. I do have my phone though, so I call the police. My voice is shaky and weak when I tell them someone broke into my house. I must sound convincingly terrified, because they promise to send someone out right away.

Soon, lights and sirens illuminate my street. Wow, they sent a bunch of people. I'm huddled in my car, shivering and slightly in shock, but I start laughing when the police go inside. I hear the edge of hysteria in my laughter, but it just makes me laugh harder. They're going to be in for a shock.

[romanceimp]

Sleepless

Hitoshi Shinsou Sleepy Comfort:  Hello all, this is my contribution to this months BNHAREM Collab. Please view the rest of the master list here. This months theme was about spending time with one of our favourite characters. So each piece (art, writing, or other) has really come from the heart. 

For all the times I couldn’t sleep and wished I had an insomniac Shinsou to hold me through it... For all those who cannot find enough peace to fall asleep some days, this one is for you. 

The only TW is depersonalization and some depressed thoughts.

The clock blinks 3:07 AM. The gods of sleep had forgotten you while they had kissed the foreheads of the rest of the world. Your apartment felt vast and empty and nothing seemed to make sense. Sometimes it felt as if you were evaporating from the world… or rather, the world was evaporating away. It was unsettling, feeling like you were walking through a dream. Your movements heavy and light at the same time, floating, slowly dissolving into the ether. ‘Maybe this time… it will actually happen, maybe, this time, I will fade and no longer exist. I feel nothing, I am nothing.’

Hot tears roll down your cheeks as the exhaustion adds to your fear. You sit up and look out the window to. The lights of the street pour over the pavement in artificial fluorescence. You need fresh air, something to snap you back into your body. You throw open the window and climb out onto the small balcony.

The night air washes over you, or perhaps it blows through you. You look up in an attempt to see the stars only to find the orange glow of city lights reflecting off of the black sky. ‘It’s like yelling into a void,’ you think to yourself.  You want to laugh and cry at the same time, there is such an irony in loneliness.

“Can’t sleep?” he questions. You turn to see your neighbour Hitoshi Shinsou leaning against the railing of his balcony. You shake your head, relief flowing through you that another human being can perceive your existence, even if you yourself cannot. “Been good?” you ask, giving him a sleepy smile. You had a few exchanges with Hitoshi, and occasionally hung out in each other’s apartments but he had been busy. “Eh, not too bad I guess… you?” You consider telling him that you’re good, fine, okay, but you knew Hitoshi well enough to know that he wasn’t afraid of honesty. “Been better,” you yawn and he laughs softly. “Past your bedtime, huh? Dont you usually pass out at like 11?”  You shrug and smile, “not lately.”

Hitoshi takes you in and his brow furrows in response. “Do you want to talk about it?” he offers. You shrug again and shift your weight from side to side. “Not really…” you pause considering your words carefully. “This might seem weird but- could I come over…” He says nothing, just extends his hand to help you climb over the railing separating you two.

His hand is warm and large over your own. It’s strange, you know Hitoshi doesn’t sleep much but something about his presence inspires a desire to sleep. You look at him with big tired eyes before your head falls onto his chest. You close your eyes and wrap your arms around him. “ ‘m sorry, you’re just so- comforting,” you mumble into his chest. He pulls you closer, “I’ve never been told that…” You adjust so that your ear is against his chest, his heartbeat steady. “Well, you are.”

A silence washes over you both, sounds of the city below only add to the moment, the wail of a siren and the beep of a horn, laughter from a bar a couple blocks away, music passing with cars. Leaning into the man with lavender hair, the world felt like it was slowly being filled. The life that felt it was being evaporated from you felt as if it was being poured back into your body with every stroke of Hitoshi’s hand down your back. The thought of returning back to your empty apartment had you gripping his shirt and pulling him closer. “Can I stay?” you ask. It’s unexpected but not unwelcome when he presses his lips to your forehead. “Of course,” he says, hands still running up and down your back to soothe.

Hitoshi leads you through the window, into his bedroom. You both crawl into his bed laughing quietly and making soft conversation as you find your way into each other's arms. It’s strangely natural, as if it had always been this way. Each thought and memory that is shared between the two of you is cherished, said and listened to with the heart itself. And soon your eyes are closing, your head on his chest. The comfortable silence created is paused by Hitoshi’s words, “I’m glad you’re here.” Anyone would assume he meant in his bed, but it was the way he said it that made you realise he meant more than just ‘in his bed’. You sit up slightly and look at him. You aren’t quite sure what to say so you press your lips to his cheek before you snuggle back into his chest. You fall asleep to the rise and fall of his breath and the beating of his steady heart.

It’s light through the blinds that has your eyes fluttering open. Hitoshi’s arms are still holding you, though now his chest is against your back and your legs are intertwined. You find yourself face to face with a clock once more, though this time it glows, 14:36. You roll to face him, rubbing his shoulder. He blinks awake, heavy eyelids, and smiles when he sees you. “It’s two thirty,” you say wide eyed. His eyes grow to the same size as yours as he checks the clock. You both laugh together. “I don’t remember the last time I slept that long… or that well,” he muses. You nod agreeing, “me either.” His hand comes up to meet your cheek, his thumb stroking softly under your eye before trailing down to your jaw. You lean in and touch your lips to his. It’s a soft and simple kiss. A signal of gratitude, because as he held your heart while you slept, a part of it healed, and now, you’ve woken up, but you’re truly awake.

[messymessyml]

Breaking and Entering

I'll be moving this one over to AO3 at some point (done, available here), but I'll start this off on Tumblr. This is a lighthearted, multi-chapter Jasonette story.

Summary:

Marinette is away from home when a curious visitor drops in. The kwami don't see any problem letting the man in; the question is: what will the guardian think when she realizes an intruder was in her house while she was gone?

Chapter 1 is below the cut.

Chapter 1: What did I come back to now?

Marinette felt a wave of relief hit her as her key turned smoothly in the lock. She was more than ready to unload her bags and take a well-deserved night in after a whirlwind week of consulting with clients in Metropolis. She’d decided to take Tikki and Sass with her and rent a hotel for the week as most of her clients were only available for early morning consultations, and while it was the most effective way to make sure she didn’t miss a meeting, she was glad to be back home.

Gotham may not be as glitzy or have as many potential clients as Metropolis, but it more than made up for that with the anonymity that Gotham allowed her. The local mentality of ‘take no shit’ and ‘mind your own damn business and I’ll mind mine’ allowed the kwami and her freedom that they wouldn’t get in Metropolis, a city crawling with news stations and a baffling love of all things mundane. Half the time when she visited Metropolis it felt like she had a target on her back; the paparazzi were worse in Metropolis than they ever were in her Parisian hero days and that held for her professional pseudonym as well as plain Marinette. It was a wonder that with so many news outlets (and Superman to report on for crying out loud) that she was still the topic of a news piece twice in the past week: once as MDC and once as plain old Marinette. In all seriousness was helping with a local tree planting event for Earth Day that newsworthy?

‘Enough of that’, she thought, realizing that although her door was now unlocked, she’d thought so much about arriving home that she hadn’t even fully opened her door. A slight twinge of embarrassment hit her. Carrying her tiny friends everywhere was always a blessing, but sometimes, she mused, it might be nice not to have an audience for every action she took—no matter how embarrassing.

Letting go of that train of thought, Marinette stepped through and closed her door behind her, feeling tension bleed out of her shoulders. The underlying scent of vanilla and blossom honey hit her nose as she strode over to the kitchen island. She set her bags to the side and took a hold of one of her swinging barstools with the intention to sit for a bit before making any attempt at dinner for the kwami and herself. Absently tracking the path Sass and Tikki took as they flew in the direction of the room where she kept the Miracle Box, she hesitated to sit as she noticed a slowly building feeling of unease hit her. Something, she thought, was off.

Sharpening her gaze and gripping the barstool a little tighter, Marinette scanned her apartment. At first glance, the living space looked unchanged from how she left it; the furniture was where it belonged, and her shelves and wall art were unmoved. As she looked closer though, she saw items around the house that were shifted a bit more than they would be if the kwami had decided to explore while she was away: the living room rug was centered, the dishes she had left to dry right before leaving the house a week ago were put away, and the barstool she was currently grasping was a bit more level than it had ever been, thrifted as it were. The kwami were a joy to interact with and an honor to serve as their guardian, but cleaners and tinkers they were not.

Marinette released her grip on the stool, rounding the kitchen island to open the cabinets. Like she thought, the dishes she had washed a week ago were put away and the towers of plates and bowls looked straighter than they were normally. Her gut churned as the beginning stages of worry started to fill her.

A chorus of greetings from behind her met her ears, disrupting her thoughts. Turning, Marinette saw the kwami flying towards her from the hallway.

“Marinette, did you have a nice trip?” Mullo squeaked.

“Guardian, I hope all went well on your trip. It is wonderful to have you back home.” Wayzz said.

The other kwami threw in their own noises and words of agreement, mirroring Wayzz’s welcome.

Marinette couldn’t help her small smile, replying, “My trip went well, and I am happy to be back here with you all.” She paused, hesitating before she asked, “Did anything happen while we were away?”

“Not much, Pigtails.” Plagg swam leisurely into view, tailed closely by Tikki, both twirling as they approached. “Some fighting outside, and a bit of a showdown on rooftops at the end of the block, but no damage to our building.”

Wayzz intercepted Plagg’s path, floating into the center of her vision to say, “That may be true, Plagg; however, one of the combatants took a breather on our balcony by using the garden for cover. He didn’t seem injured, but he was breathing heavier than was wise. Most of us hid in the box while I continued to strengthen the wards on the outer walls and windows.”

Marinette interrupted, “No one entered the apartment?”

Wayzz hesitated, then said “The man stayed hidden as best he could, but he was quite large, and I could feel the shifting balance; if he stayed on the balcony, he would have drawn fire here. I strengthened the barrier outwards then loosened the barrier on the balcony doors, undid the latch for him, and asked Trixx to hide us from view. He had a protector’s spirit and none of us could feel an intent to harm any but the ones he’d been fighting outside. I am sorry, Guardian, for making this decision without your input.”

Marinette took a deep breath to fend off the impending tension headache, unclenching the hand she had used to subconsciously gripped her other wrist. She loosened the muscles around her eyes to soften her gaze. “It’s alright, Wayzz. I wasn’t there, and I trust your intuition. What did he do?”

“He seemed distrustful of the open door at first but ended up entering almost silently and quickly moved to scan the apartment.”

Trixx added, “I made sure he could not see the Miracle Box and that he was not visible from the outside at any point, but he stayed away from the windows for the most part.”

Roarr piped in, “He has a fierce spirit, and I agree with Wayzz that he has a strong protective streak.”

She heard some murmurs of agreement from the other kwami, some of them breaking out into small discussion pertaining to the man’s character. “If so many of you saw him, did you leave the Miracle Box then? What did you see?” Desperately, Marinette wished that the immortal beings she called friends could get to the points.

“Some of us came out to see, but most of us stayed in the box. Trixx’s illusions held; he didn’t see or hear any of us.” Barkk confirmed.

“Yes, he mostly stayed in the living room. He sat right here for a while!” Saying this, Pollen surged towards the end of the couch, landing with their back to the armrest in a bored sprawl. “Like this!”

Plagg, swaying upside down near the ceiling, lazily added, “He wasn’t much fun. All he did was check his guns then started cleaning the place. Boring.”

“Guns?! Cleaning? Why?” Alarmed, Marinette’s heartbeat started to pound at the picture painted by the kwami. They had let a large combatant enter her apartment and all he did was inspect his guns and clean??? ‘This can’t be real’, she thought. ‘Was I caught up in one of Scarecrow’s attacks on the way home?’

“He had good manners at the least.” Kaalki sniffed. “His gear smelled of money and he fixed that stool of yours that never would have entered the premises if you had listened to me from the start. At least now it isn’t horrendously squeaky.”

“Hey!” Mullo protested.

Kaalki just turned away.

“He needed the protection.” Wayzz apologetically said. “He didn’t seem interested in your workroom and he wouldn’t have been able to find the box, so we observed. He cleaned a bit and left after checking that the coast was clear outside.”

Marinette allowed her shoulders to sag. “Alright. If you’re sure.” Glancing around, she gave the kwami a smile, eyes hesitating on the glass doors leading to the balcony, she absently added, “Thank you for keeping an eye on things while I was gone.”

Striding over to the doors leading out to the balcony, she peered out. Nothing seemed out of place out here, but she couldn’t be certain. Checking the door handles, she noticed that one of the kwami or her mystery visitor must have relatched the lock. Unlocking it, she stepped out and went to sit at her patio table. Leaning back in her chair, she let her head tip back to view the sunset, partially obscured by the balcony two floors above her own. Her apartment building had mostly staggered the balconies to allow more light to reach its inhabitants, a must in Gotham’s dreary weather.

After a few moments, she let her head droop forward to land in her hands. As much as she loved them, the kwami’s survival instincts always seemed at odds with hers. She couldn’t tell whether that was due to her anxiety amplifying everything past the point of reason or that the kwami’s inherent existence rendering most danger obsolete, but while some intruder might not be a danger to beings that could turn intangible and invisible at will, she was definitely a bit more breakable (‘Mortal’, her brain whispered) than them. If she had been here? Who knows how that visit might have gone?

Taking a few more minutes to calm her body’s response, a few deep breaths, and a moment or two of gratitude that nothing bad had happened, she straightened a bit as the evening wind started to pick up and a splash of white started to flutter at the edge of her vision. Glancing up, her eye caught on a piece of paper at the other end of the table that was weighted down with a rock she had decorated a while back with paintings of ladybugs and cats playfully chasing each other across a meadow. That particular rock usually spent time in the catnip bed Plagg had insisted on and Tikki had seconded as a nod to both kwami. Curious, she reached out and grabbed the sheet of paper underneath. Opening it, she read:

Dear Stranger,

I was in a bit of a tight spot and hanging around your balcony when your door swung open. Haunted house, much? Hope you don’t mind, but I ended up using your house as a temporary safe house while you were gone. Don’t worry, I made sure no one saw me entering or exiting, so you shouldn’t have any problems from the type of shit that follows me.

On the topic of haunted houses, are you sure yours isn’t haunted? Your house is unnervingly the calmest- and safest-feeling place I’ve been in a while, but I kept seeing blurs out of the corner of my eye and I was NOT concussed. Might want to talk to someone about that.

I ended up tidying a bit while you were gone, hope you don’t mind. Fairs fair, you (unknowingly, I know) lent me a place to stay, I tidied up a bit. Stay out of trouble, alright?

Cheers,

- Red Hood

The Red Hood? The RED HOOD is who they let into the house? For kwami’s sake, what were they thinking?!?

[mrs-gucci]

Doth Not Fear, For Our Future Awaits {Prince Kylo Ren x Reader}

@babbushka:

Happy follower milestone my dear friend!! My prompt idea for your consideration: A medieval AU where reader is a lady in waiting to the Queen at the royal court, and Kylo is the crown prince who is in love with her. They can never be together...or can they? However you'd like to take this, if you decide at all, would be so much fun! xoxoxo :)

author’s notes: hello, hello! I’m baaaaack after a lengthy case of writers block 😩 my dearest friend, my beloved, thank you for this wonderful request!! I’ll be honest, I restarted this about three different times, but I’m very pleased with how this one turned out for you <3 @babbushka​

warnings (what you see is what you’ll get!): fluff. forbidden romance/love. passionate kissing. themes of infidelity. use of Shakespearean English. some insults are thrown around.

no tw’s :)

word count: 1.6k

my general taglist peeps! @safarigirlsp​ @babbushka​ ​@mrs-zimmerman​ @dirtytissuebox​ @thepalaceofmelanie​ @einmal-im-traum​ kylo’s taglist peeps! @goddessofsprings @icarusinthesea @lumdelacour @readingreaver @eagerforhoney​ @trubluepensfan​ @beachwoodmonet​ (if you’d like to be added to or removed from any of my taglists, the link to the google form is HERE or at the top of my masterlist.)

[NOT my art/image. full credit to the artist, therealmcgee, and found via Pinterest]

A gentle autumn breeze rustles the masterpiece of dark tresses that sit atop the head of crown prince Kylo Ren, who stands alone in the moonlight-illuminated garden. The birds have ceased their chirps and allowed for the nighttime singers to shine through, crickets and katydids creating a peaceful melody from amongst the grasses.

He stands by the pond, staring down at his gently rippled reflection in the water. A grimace seems to be permanently etched onto his expression whenever he’s in the presence of his overbearing mother or pesky new bride, creating creases in his skin that shall surely remain for the rest of his living days.

As he looks down upon himself under the soft moonlight, he can only see the miserable face of a young man trapped in the cage of a legacy, unable to free himself from the heavy chains of expectation and tradition. Tonight, though, those chains bear an even greater weight for the young royal.

You're all he desires in life, the only thing he wishes to seek out and fight for. Not the kingdom of Alderaan, not his new bride, not even his mother; it’s you. And now, he’s forever bound to the wrong woman, restrained yet again by the rigid ways of his family’s traditions.

What if he no longer wants to be Prince?

A hollow footstep on the stone courtyard startles him from his thoughts and he turns around to gaze upon the intruder of his serene privacy.

“I believeth thy new bride is awaiting that lady marital bedding.”

His expression softens upon the sight of you striding towards him, turning fully around to properly face you as you stand before him. He holds your smaller hands in his much larger ones.

“The lady shalt beest waiting for an eternity, then. I am doubtful of that lady did suppose pureness, if 't be true i am truthful.”

The two of you laugh softly together at his comment.

“I wanteth nay other, Y/N, only thee.”

You offer the crown prince a sad smile. “And I only desire thee, Kylo, but we simply cannot beest together. I am mistress in waiting to thy mother, the queen, and ye art did set to becometh king. 't is 'gainst the laws of the land and we shalt certes beest hanged if 't be true anyone ever did discover our love affair.”

He sighs, forehead pressing against yours as he looks longingly into your eyes. “I wish things wast not this way, yond people couldst beest free to marry for love, not for status or bloodlines.”

“Me too.” You lean into him, bringing your mouth up to hover over his, and his down to meet yours. Warm, gentle wafts of his breath smooth out across your lips and you give a soft whimper in response, pressing yourself further against him. “Telleth me all thee would do to have me as thy bride, Kylo.”

Your voice is barely above a whisper, considering you’re barely able to breathe through your nose by now, with your face practically smashed up against him, but that’s the absolute last thing you give thought to at a moment like this. He opens his mouth and lazily attempts to capture you in a kiss, fingertips pressing harder into your sides.

“Gods, I would doth aught for thee. I would giveth up mine coronet, mine legacy for thy handeth.”

Slowly, your arms slither up around the back of his neck, feeling a familiar heat rising and bubbling in your nether regions.  “Telleth me more.”

He’s practically slobbering over you now, so desperate to press his lips unto yours. The hunger surges through him as he pulls you flush against him.

“I would square for thee, square anyone for thy love to belong to only me. I would drop of sorrow mine bloody, beating heart out of mine own chest for thee.”

Your pulse throbs neath your flesh, the upbeat tempo of your heartbeat thrumming in your ears. You sigh into his open mouth, hand coming up to grab hold of his silky hair. 

“Moo.”

Suddenly, he sweeps you up off your feet and instantly presses you against the side of the nearest structure, effectively caging you in with his massive form. He snarls softly, pinning you even further into the wall, forcing a quiet gasp from your lips.

“By gods, Y/N, I would killeth for thee.”

You tighten your grip in his hair and pull him down into a sloppy, passionate kiss. He returns the embrace with eager lips, tongue prodding and exploring every cavern of your mouth. His pelvis presses right up against your lower abdomen, rubbing his stiffening length up against you.

“Kylo.” A sigh pushes its way through your pursed lips as Kylo’s head dips down, lips pecking at the taut skin on your neck.

“Did shalt we runneth hence together. I wanteth to declare our love to the kingdom tonight.” His face lights up as he holds yours in his massive hands, smiling. “I’m sick of hiding in the shadows, sick of having to keepeth myself hence from thee.”

You’re riddled with worry over this sudden decision, rubbing the strong upper arms of your lover. “Art thee sure? This idea worries me greatly, mine sweeting. What if 't be true we receiveth did doth catch? They wilt throweth us in the dungeons for sure; our destiny wilt beest but soft decaying down thither until death showeth us mercy.”

“I don’t care. Allow me to prove all I would doth for thy love and for thy handeth, Y/N. I wilt taketh care of thee, I wilt at each moment maketh sure thee hath't everything thee couldst ever needeth and moo. And we wilt beest together, beest free to love one another at last. Who is't cares whither we art or what our fates wilt beest? We can finally beest together without restrictions, punishments or secrecy.” He presses you further up against the wall, lips parallel to your ear. “Mine life isn't worth living if 't be true thou art not by mine side. Wilt thee runneth hence with me?”

Simply just the thought of that makes your stomach go a flutter, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Your eyes flicker up to meet his once more, hands cradling his handsomely carved face.

“I trust thee, kylo, thither's few or none will entertain it path thee decideth to taketh; I wilt remain by thy side. If 't be true thee wish to telleth the kingdom, then I wilt telleth those folk 'longside thee. If 't be true thee wish to runneth hence from this lodging, then I wilt runneth with thee.”

Kylo pulls you close for one more embrace, then guides you along back up to the party. Acidic nerves begins to crawl up your throat as the two of you draw nearer and nearer to the bustling ballroom.

Instantly, the Queen rushes over to her estranged son with a frustrated frown on her face. “Whither on earth hath't thee been?! Thy bride hath been by herself all night waiting for thee to returneth!”

He takes your hand. “The lady is not mine bride, mother, not anymore. Y/n is mine bride, and we don't care what everyone thinkest of our forbidden love. I've grown did tire of trying to prithee, of trying to followeth all of the traditions of our family. I wanteth to marry for love, not for the continuation of our lineage, and i intend to doth so with mine beloved.”

Now, people have begun to look onto the unfolding situation, finding it far more interesting than the festivities. Leia’s eyes search her son’s, then flicker over to glare into yours. A shiver swipes down your spine at her gaze of hatred.

“Thee've poisoned mine son. Callet!”

This gets the attention of even more patrons and suddenly, every single set of eyes are focused on where you stand. You wish to simply crumble in this moment, become one with the Earth in order to escape their accusatory stares. 

“How dare thee speaketh of mine beloved in such a manner?! Didn't thee heareth what I did doth sayeth? We don't care what thee bethink of us, what any of thee bethink of us. We wilt beest together, coequal if 't be true 't doth take every single moment of mine life to achieve.” 

The room is completely still and scarily quiet, not a single shift in position or breath can be heard in this moment. Leia stands up straight to look up into her son’s eyes. “I at each moment did knoweth thee wast nev'r did cullionly to beest in this family. I'm ashamed to hath't thee as a son.”

Patrons begin to stir and an angry unrest drapes itself atop the crowd.

“Throweth those folk in the dungeons!“ One says.

“Death to the coronet prince!“ Another exclaims.

From the very back of the room, another voice pops up. “Traitors!“

Suddenly, Kylo yanks you towards the stairs, breaking out in a full sprint.

“Runneth anon, mine love! We wilt hence!”

Your precious shoes fly off your feet as you run behind him. “Kylo! Mine shoes hath't cometh off! What am I to doth?”

He’s quick to scoop you up and carry you in his arms, breath steadily growing heavier with your added weight. He runs all the way down to the stables and seizes a tacked horse, mounting the perplexed creature swiftly.

“Taketh mine handeth. Doth not fear, for our future awaits, mine beloved.”

With a bright and hopeful smile, you take his hand willingly, the wind catching your hair as rhythmic hoof-falls carry you off to your new life, one you get to spend with the love of your life.

[tchallasbabymama]

All For Us Chapter 9

Hey y’all, thanks for being patient with me on this one, but it’s finally done! Not to be the bearer of bad news or anything, but there’s only one chapter left (and maybe an epilogue) on our journey with Mira, Erik, and Cupcake. If you’re just here for Killmonger, I have a couple Erik oneshots heading y’all’s way in the next few weeks. Also, check out The Temple. 😉

As always, don’t forget to look at my masterlist to read my other stories and oneshots, and let me know if you want to be tagged in anything. Like, comment, and reblog away! 🥰

CW: a little smut

Word Count: 6,481

Erik’s eyes flew open as he bolted upright through the sand that covered his body in his temporary grave. He was in the heart of the temple where the Black Panther ceremony took place, the City of the Dead. The lost prince pulled himself from the sand and brushed the clay-colored sediment from around his eyes as he climbed the stone staircase leading up into the garden of the heart-shaped herb. When he made it to the top, Erik took a deep breath before stepping into the garden. To his surprise, nothing caught on fire like in his previous dreams. His shoulders relaxed as he took another step into the garden, and another, and another until he was face to face with Bast’s statue. A smile took over his face as he knelt at her feet.

“Took you long enough, Jaguar.”

Erik lifted his head, and her celestial glow nearly blinded him as he laid his eyes on the panther goddess once more.

“Long enough for what?”

“For your senses to come back, obviously.” Bast circled him and laid down, licking her paw. “Pretty soon, you won’t have to be asleep to talk to me.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“Oh, I had nothing to do with it.”

Erik turned to face her and sat back on his heels.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I never took them away. You did.”

“I’m not following.”

“Your guilt blocked your senses, Erik,” she sighed. “You had been holding onto pieces of it, but you finally let it go.”

“I felt guilty for ruining our marriage,” Erik mused aloud.

“But you didn’t, so congratulations,” she said nonchalantly. “That’s not why you’re here, though.”

“Ok, what’s up?”

Bast chuckled at his informality.

“Last time we spoke, I said I would need you to do something for me. I’ve finally made up my mind as to what that is.”

Erik sat with bated breath as he waited for his assignment. For a moment, he was reminded of his military and mercenary days, except this time, he was being given a mission from a goddess. His goddess.

“As you know, Wakanda has never had a Golden Jaguar before. You are an anomaly, but that is a good thing.” She stood up and started walking, making him rush to his feet to follow after her.

“It is?”

“Yes. You know, the good thing about cycles is that with destruction comes rebirth…change. You’ve forced Wakanda to change, and you’ve forced me to think some things over. Truthfully, after the little stunt you almost pulled, I did think about removing your powers. I don’t need to preach about it, though, since you already know all about your wrongdoings, but I heard what you said about your people. We have neglected them, and for that, I have no words of apology that would adequately ease your pain. The Lost Tribe, as my people have come to call you, needs a champion. Wakanda already has theirs, but since you seem to rather enjoy toying with colonizers, I have an assignment for you.”

Erik’s ears were trained on Bast as he hung on every word she said. He walked next to her as they made their way through the catacombs towards the temple’s entrance.

“Before you came to Wakanda, you were involved with Klaue and his hunt for vibranium. Your vast knowledge of African and diasporic artifacts combined with your training makes a great equation for what I need you to do.”

“Which is?”

“I want you to act as the Golden Jaguar on the Lost Tribe’s behalf. I recognize that as just one person, you can only do so much, which is why I will talk to T’Challa about you heading his Wardog program. I would like for you to have an army of spies at your disposal to act instead of just watch and report as they have done in the past.”

“So basically what I wanted to do before but without the world domination?”

“Precisely,” Bast chuckled and stopped walking at the door to the temple.

“Ok,” Erik thought on it as a smile crept up his cheeks. “I’ll do it.”

“I knew you would. I think you’ll like my first assignment. Well, second. First, you need to stop avoiding the City of the Dead in your waking life. You need to go visit the garden.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Erik said, his nerves twisting in his gut at the thought of actually stepping back onto the sacred land.

“Now, my second assignment: artifact reclamation. Instead of searching for vibranium, which you might find, I want you to return items to their rightful owners.”

“So, stealing,” Erik deadpanned.

“Yes, but for a good cause. I will let you work out the details, but the point is to return the power to the people by building them back up, brick by brick. They were separated from their gods, so the Ancestors and the Orishas are working on bringing them back to us spiritually. They are still working on getting other spirits and pantheons on board...alas, my brother and sisters are choosing to take a more passive approach.” She sighed. “The Lost Tribe was taken from the land, so T’Challa has already spearheaded initiatives to build up other African countries that need his assistance and bring the Lost home to the continent. Now, I need you to bring our belongings home. Our thrones, our art, our history. Take it back. Bring it back to its rightful place.”

“I’m with it, but, um...how am I supposed to do this without getting caught? If shit just starts disappearing en masse, somebody’s gonna notice.”

“They won’t disappear. The colonizers won’t even know they’re gone.” Bast flicked her tail mischievously. “Your wife designs kimoyo beads, does she not?”

“Well, yeah-”

“And your cousins are scientific geniuses, correct?”

“Yes…”

“Then I’m sure that between all of your big beautiful brains, you can figure out a way to make replicas of the artifacts.”

“Why does that compliment feel like an insult?”

“I like you, Jaguar,” The goddess chuckled. “Now go enjoy your time with your wife.” She winked at Erik as she nudged him out into the brightness shining from outside the wide-open temple doors. Erik returned to consciousness, and he was shocked by the feeling of Mira’s mouth traveling up and down his shaft.

“Fuck, girl. This how you waking Big Daddy up now?”

She popped her head off his tip, and he groaned at the sight of a bridge of spit still connecting her to him.

“Good morning, baby.”

“Mmmm, good morning to you, too,” he grabbed her loose curls that she had forgotten to tie up the night before. The silk sheets kept her hair soft and bouncy as her hair spilled over his fist while it rested at the back of her head. He pulled her in for a kiss, and then she went right back to taking him down her throat. “You’re gonna make me nut all down that throat, Princess.”

Mira’s hand cupped and massaged his ballsack while she sucked on his bulbous head. Her tongue swirled around the tip, and her other hand traveled up and down his length, making his toes curl.

“Fuuuuck, you remember just what Big Daddy likes. Imma bust a fat ass nut, girl,” Erik groaned through gritted teeth. Mira giggled at her control over him and continued to work his dick. Her nose reached his pelvis as she took him down her throat, and he came with such force that she almost choked. Almost.

When she pulled off of him, she tongue-kissed his tip before sitting back on her haunches and wiping her mouth. “How’d you sleep?”

Erik let out a breathy laugh, “Like the dead.”

“Yeah, I’m surprised you didn’t feel me moving. You were out cold.”

“That’s because I was talking to Bast.”

“What’d she say this time?”

Erik sat up against the headboard and motioned for her to come to him. Mira crawled up his body and straddled him, sliding down on his dick so that they were connected as deep as they could be. They had always been like this; whenever they needed to have a serious conversation, Erik would set her in his lap and have her take all of him. They both reveled in the connection they had in that moment, and even in their stillness, their united bodies responded to each other as the words fell from his lips.

“She wants me to be the Golden Jaguar officially,” he said as he kissed down from Mira’s ear to her shoulder.

“What does that mean?” Mira asked, barely above a whisper.

“She wants me to be a champion for us, the Lost Tribe. Wakandans have T, so I’ll be protecting the rest of us with the Wardogs.”

“How, though? That’s so many people.”

He came up from kissing between her breasts to look her in the eyes. “Well, remember how I told you about the museum heist to get the vibranium?”

Mira nodded.

“She wants me to steal artifacts from museums and shit and return them to where they were stolen from.”

“That sounds right up your alley,” Mira snarked, and he tickled her sides, making her pussy clench around him, and he let out a groan at the feeling. He grabbed her hips and moved them back and forth.

“It is. I can’t do anything until I visit the garden of the heart-shaped herb, though.”

“Why?” she moaned.

“I’ve been avoiding it,” he sighed.

Mira pulled him into a kiss and cycloned her hips as she wound on him. “Do you need to go alone, or do you want me to come with you?”

He connected their foreheads as he pushed his hips forward into her, and she called out his name.

“I need to go alone.”

Their hips ground into each other as the sexual energy inside them built up slowly and erupted through their bodies. Erik placed kisses all over Mira’s face and neck as she caught her breath from the intensity of her orgasm.

“How about I make breakfast?” Erik asked, and Mira simply nodded and kissed him. She moved to get up, but he held her down. “Nah, I didn’t say right now.”

After another round, the two of them separated from each other, if only because of the rumbling of their bellies. They showered together, and Erik couldn’t help himself from bending her over and eating her pussy and ass from the back. Pretty soon, he was balls deep inside her again, and when he came all over her cheeks, he about keeled over from the way the orgasm shook through his body.

“Aight, I need a break,” Erik said, and the two of them shared a laugh as they finished their shower without any more funny business.

“Can I have one of your t-shirts?” Mira asked as they slathered themselves in shea butter.

“You can have anything you want, Princess. MIT or Navy?”

“MIT please,” she cheesed at him.

“Coming right up.”

Erik left the room and returned with his maroon-colored MIT t-shirt. The same one she wore the first time she stayed over at his apartment back in the day. He knew it was her favorite and the look on her face when he handed it to her was priceless. She quickly shimmied into it while he slid on a pair of sweatpants that left little to the imagination.

The two of them relocated to the kitchen, and Mira toyed around with her latest kimoyo design on her tablet while Erik got to work on breakfast.

“That a new one?” he asked, nodding towards the design hovering over the counter.

“Yeah, I haven’t gotten it to work right, though,” she grumbled as she stared at it. “I want it to be able to apply cloaking tech to whatever it touches, but so far, I can only get the bead to disappear.”

Erik listened to her complain about her failed design for a little while, and when she was done, she turned off the tablet and hopped up on the counter.

“Anything I can do?” Mira asked

“Mhm,” he came over and stood between her legs, placing a sloppy kiss on her lips. “Just sit there looking fine as hell.”

“I’m serious,” she smiled.

“So am I,” he said incredulously with a hand over his heart, making her chuckle at his dramatics.

“Fine, I’ll be your muse.”

“And my guinea pig. Here, try this.”

Erik lifted the spoon to her lips so she could taste the yam hash he had been working on, and her eyes bugged out of her head.

“I forgot you turn into Top Chef after sex.”

“Gotta feed my woman,” he kissed her cheek and cracked a couple of eggs sunny-side up in the skillet.

Mira giggled, and an idea struck her. She reached back for her tablet again and pulled up her latest work in progress, a story about a decades-long whirlwind romance that she had gotten stuck on. All she needed was a little inspiration, and Erik ended up being just what she needed.

He watched his wife type away with a smile on his face. Erik loved watching her work; the look of determination on her face was always so endearing to him. She’d bite her lip and squint her eyes as she tried her best to focus on the task at hand. Erik always thought it was adorable.

The smell of fresh vegetables coming in contact with hot oil filled the air, and Mira’s mouth started to water. She looked up from her work to see what Erik was doing but got distracted by his body. She watched his sinewy muscles moving beneath his textured skin, and a chill went down her spine.

“What the fuck is that?” Erik sniffed the air, following the sweet scent that had just wafted from out of nowhere.

“What’s what?” Mira asked, swinging her legs back and forth.

He turned to face her, and his pupils blew wide as the smell hit him again.

“It’s you,” he turned off the burner and stalked over to her, standing between her legs again and placing his nose in the crook of her neck. He inhaled her scent and let out a growl.

“What is that?”

“My bodywash?”

“Nah, it’s you. What-” he cut himself off when it dawned on him. When he was king for a day, he only smelled fear from those around him. Fear smelled like decay, it smelled rotten, but this was the exact opposite. It was enticing, like the most beautiful forbidden garden, and Erik knew exactly what it was. Her arousal. He bit into her neck, making her moan out as he ground his hips into hers. The aroma grew, and Erik’s composure slipped away the more he inhaled it.

“E-erik, the food.”

He took a deep breath as he stood to his full height. “I can smell when you want me.”

“What?!”

“I wonder if it’s different for every person...shit, I wonder if I can smell other people. I hope not-”

“What are you saying? You can tell when I’m horny?”

“I guess so. I only smelled fear before, but it makes sense. I’m just caught off guard because it hit me out of nowhere, like last night.”

“What happened last night?”

“I could hear your heartbeat.”

Mira’s face lit up, “That’s good, though, right? It means your senses are coming back!”

“Yeah, I’m just surprised by that one. I wasn’t expecting all that,” he laughed.

“So...I smell good?”

“You don’t know how good, Princess,�� he grumbled as he finished cooking. Mira crossed her legs, making him chuckle. “That’s not helping. It’s all over you.”

“Damn...what else can you do?”

“I need to test out my strength and speed, but my sight was different, too. Everything was brighter, more vibrant. And my brain moved faster...I don’t know how to explain it. Bast said my guilt was the blockage, so they’ll probably slowly come back over time. After they’re back, I’m supposed to start on my mission.”

“You still felt guilty?”

“I thought I broke us. I mean, I did, but I felt like it was unfixable, you know?”

Mira nodded, “Yeah, it felt like that sometimes.”

Erik pulled the dishes out of the cabinet and set them down next to her.

“Mira, I’m-”

“Erik, if you say you’re sorry one more time, so help me, Bast,” Mira said, making a dimpled smile appear on Erik’s face.

“Yes, ma’am.”

They fell into a comfortable silence while Erik plated the food, and when he handed Mira hers, he left a kiss on her cheek. She smiled and hopped down from the counter to sit at the table. When she sat down, she couldn’t help but stare at Erik as he walked over. Her man, her formerly violent man was really chosen by a goddess to protect Black people around the globe.

He noticed the look on her face and couldn’t quite place it. “What?”

“Nothing, just...look at you, doing the work of gods now.”

“I bet you never thought you’d say that about your mercenary husband,” Erik winked at her.

“Sure didn’t,” Mira laughed, “but it fits. You always had it in you. You know, I’m glad I came out here. I wouldn’t get to see this new side of you otherwise, and so far, I like it.”

--------

A couple of hours later, Erik found himself in front of the City of the Dead with his palms sweating and his breath shaking. He wasn’t sure why the temple unnerved him so much, but it did. Erik knew he had to do what Bast told him, though, and took a step forward. He climbed the stairs to the ornate stone doors and waited as they slowly opened for him. Erik was met with the sight of a surprisingly calm woman in purple robes. He recognized her as the woman he had choked out, the new head priestess.

“My prince,” she saluted him. “Welcome. I have been expecting you.”

“You have?”

“Of course. Come in.”

He hesitantly stepped forward again and entered the temple. A chill went down his spine as the doors shut behind them, and he looked around the space. He had only been there once before in his waking life, but this time it felt different. It probably had something to do with the fact that she wasn’t scared of him this time around.

“What’s your name?” he asked nervously.

“I am Zaya, my prince.”

“You don’t have to do the whole ‘my prince’ thing. Especially since I...you know.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“I’m sorry about that. I should’ve never put my hands on you.”

“I have spoken to Bast about it, and I forgive you. Just don’t let it happen again,” she warned.

Erik put his hands up in defense, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good. Now, you are here to see the herb, no?” She started walking, and he followed behind her.

“How’d you know?”

“I spoke to Bast, remember?” She quipped with an eyebrow raised.

“Heh, yeah,” he chuckled nervously and cleared his throat. “I don’t know why I’m so anxious.”

“I assume that is a normal reaction when reckoning with your past.”

The two of them traveled deeper into the temple, and when they reached the door that led to the garden of the heart-shaped herb, he froze. Zaya looked back when she no longer heard his footsteps and smiled warmly, reaching out her hand to him. He took it, and she led him through the doors. Erik almost wanted to close his eyes, but he knew he had to face his past actions head-on.

He looked around, and his breath caught in his throat when he saw there were dozens of tiny glowing purple buds just begging to become full-grown flowers. He laughed in disbelief at what he was seeing. He had burnt the garden to ashes, but now here it was, thriving in spite of him.

“It took us a while to get them to grow again, but thankfully we were able to put out the fire before the roots were harmed,” Zaya spoke as he wandered through the garden in awe.

“And these...they still work?”

“The princess took a sample and tested it in her lab. According to her, this new batch might be a little different, but they should still work. Bast has given them her blessing, so that is enough for me.”

“So, I didn’t ruin Wakanda’s future like I thought...”

“No, just a bump in the road,” she smiled.

Just as he was about to respond, the strangest thing happened. His eyes were trained on one of the buds, and suddenly he could see every little vein in the leaves and the detail of the curled-up petals. The color became brighter and even more purple than most people could comprehend, and a tear rolled down his cheek as he smiled.

He could see again.

“Are you ok?” Zaya asked tentatively.

Erik cleared his throat, “Yeah, I’m good. It’s just my senses are coming back, and...they’re beautiful.”

“And resilient.”

He laughed and wiped the tear from his face.

“How about I give you some time alone?”

“Thanks, Zaya, that’d be great.”

She bowed her head in deference and went back the way they came. When she was gone, Erik let out a sigh as he took in the sight before him.

“They really made it…”

“Of course, they did. Did you think I would leave my people defenseless?” Bast’s silky voice rang out through the temple, and he turned around to see her standing there in her mostly-human form. She was a statuesque and curvaceous woman with the head of a panther and locs that spilled over her ebony shoulders. Erik dropped to his knees as she walked towards him. “No need for all of that. Stand up, Jaguar.”

He laid eyes on her once more as he rose from the ground. Her glow was almost blinding, but his eyes adjusted quickly.

“I can’t believe I’m seeing you in person.”

“Get used to it. I like to pop in on my champions every now and again. Sometimes in dreams, sometimes in your thoughts, and sometimes in person. It all depends.”

“On what?”

“On you and what you need, or what I need from you.”

“Ok, so what do you need from me?”

Bast chuckled. “Truthfully, nothing this time. I just needed to see you face-to-face.”

“You don’t have an assignment for me?”

“Not yet. I know how much you enjoy the sanctuary, so I’ll let you stay there a little whille longer. Plus, you are just now mending your marriage and need time to spend with your wife and child before I call you away.”

“How much time?”

“Enough,” she winked.

“You’re so cryptic,” Erik chuckled.

“Yes, your cousin thinks so, too. However, I prefer ‘mysterious.’”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he smirked.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you long,” she sighed. “You have some party planning to do. They grow up fast, don’t they?”

“Especially when you miss a couple of years,” he murmured.

“Which is why I’m giving you at least a year before I call on you. Make good use of it, Erik.”

“Yes, ma’am, I will.”

“Good. Oh, and one more thing, Erik.”

“Yeah?”

“Try running back to the palace,” she winked again as she shimmered away, leaving him alone in the temple.

Erik tried to contain himself as he left the garden and ran into Zaya.

“Was your ‘alone’ time fruitful?” she asked knowingly.

All he could do was beam at her with his megawatt dimpled smile.

“Very.”

Erik said goodbye and ran back through the forest to the city, his heart beating out of his chest in excitement. His superhuman speed carried him back in no time as the wind whipped against his body. A smile was plastered on his face the whole time, even when he slowed down as he reached the outskirts of Birnin Zana. He hurried to the palace as inconspicuously as he could and happened to run into Mira just as she was leaving. When she saw the look on his face, she couldn’t help the grin that took over hers.

“So, how did- Erik!” She squealed as he picked her up and twirled her around with barely any effort.

“They’re back!”

“Your powers?”

“Well, yeah, but the heart shaped herb is coming back!” he peppered kisses all over her face and neck while she giggled. “You’re more beautiful than I ever imagined you could be.”

“So I take it your vision came back, and you’re super strong again?”

“And fast. I ran here in like twenty minutes.”

“From the CIty of the Dead?!”

“Mhm,” he nodded as he set her back on the ground.

“Damn, baby, that’s...that’s amazing.”

“I need to test them out some more, so I’m gonna see if T has some time to spar. You going to the lab?”

“Shopping, actually. Okoye and Ayo took Imani so I could get some last-minute party stuff.”

“Need someone to carry your bags?”

“Oh, hell yeah. Especially since you got that jaguar strength again.”

“Lead the way, beautiful.”

--------

Early that Saturday morning, as the sun crested over the trees, Mira and Erik stood on the tarmac watching as the Royal Talon descended from the sky. Mira was almost shaking with excitement as the doors opened and T’Challa stepped out, followed by some of her favorite people in the whole world.

“Titi!”

SJ ran down the ramp past the king and flung himself into his auntie’s arms. She held him tight and rocked him from side to side as Stef and Ana approached, with Daveed teetering between the two of them.

She looked up at them and gasped, “Oh my god, he can walk now? How long have I been gone?”

“Girl, too long,” Havana complained as she wrapped her arms around her sister-in-law.

Stefan was next to greet her, and his eyes stayed glued to Erik the whole time as he enveloped his sister in a bear hug, “We missed you, Sammy.”

“No, you miss my cooking,” she laughed as she crouched down to say hi to her littlest nephew.

“You remember Titi Mira?” Ana asked him, and he shook his head, hiding behind his dad’s leg.

“That’s ok, we can get to know each other while you’re here,” Mira smiled at him and stood back up.

“Who are you?” SJ asked when he finally noticed the man standing behind his aunt.

“SJ, this is your Uncle Erik. You might not remember him but-“

He thought about it for a moment before it dawned on him. “Do you still have all those bumps on you?”

Stefan tried to hold in his snickering, and Havana hit him in his chest.

“Uh, yeah, I do.”

“That’s so cool!”

“Heh, thanks, lil man.”

“So, brother in law…It’s good to see you,” Stef deadpanned. He was clearly not feeling Erik anymore.

“You, too, man,” Erik went to dap him up, and he stared at his hand in contempt.

“Stefan, behave,” Havana said with a roll of her eyes. “Hi Erik, how are you?”

“Much better since I’ve been here.”

“Good, good…”

T’Challa had been standing to the side while the family reunited but decided to intervene when things got awkward.

“Stefan, Havana, let us show you to your quarters.”

“Oooh, our ‘quarters,’” Ana sang excitedly. “Sounds so fancy.”

“It’s a palace, Ana. Of course it’s fancy,” Stef grumbled.

She cut her eyes at him. “Don’t act out in front of company.”

Mira chuckled. She hadn’t realized how much she missed hearing their playful bickering.

As they made their way through the place, Stef and Ana stared slack-jawed at their surroundings while SJ ran ahead of the group.

“You live here?” Ana asked.

“Mhm. It’s gorgeous, right?!” Mira bragged.

“That’s not even the word…”

T’Challa smirked as he listened to them compliment his home.

“So, where’s the birthday girl?” Stefan asked.

“She is with my mother and Ororo.”

“Ororo?” Stef stopped in his tracks. “Munroe?!”

“The one and only,” T’Challa grinned proudly.

“Holy shit…”

“Language,” Havana chided her husband as she covered SJ’s ears.

“What is it with these men and cursing around children?” Mira shook her head at her brother.

“Girl, I don’t know, but let’s get back to Storm. How’d y’all meet?”

“She’s his girlfriend,” Erik nodded towards his cousin.

“Dang, how’d you get her? I mean, I know you’re a king and all, but- Wait, are you a mutant, too?” Stef asked.

T’Challa and Mira made eye contact, and she nodded for him to continue. They were family and would most likely be seeing a lot of Wakanda, so they’d find out eventually.

“I am enhanced, yes.”

“Like Steve Rogers?” SJ chimed in excitedly from a few feet ahead.

“He wishes,” T’Challa complained under his breath as they stopped in front of the door across from Erik and Mira. Both of them chuckled at the king’s arrogance.

“So...you’re enhanced. Why, though?” Stef asked.

They entered the suite, and the interrogation was cut short when the Greenwoods saw how beautiful their temporary home was.

“Holy shit…” Ana mused as she covered SJ’s ears.

Mira gave them a quick tour while T’Challa and Erik hung back in the living area.

“So, you and Stefan-”

“He never liked me, and I made things worse by disappearing,” he shrugged.

T’Challa nodded as he changed into his suit.

“Oh, so you’re coming all the way out?”

“They will find out eventually, so I might as well get it over with.”

Erik nodded as Mira rounded the corner and saw T’Challa in his suit. She smirked and called SJ. He ran back into the room and froze when he saw Black Panther standing there next to his uncle. Ana was next to round the corner and looked at her son questioningly before she looked up and saw what he was staring at with his mouth open.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said with a hand on her hip.

“About what?” Stef came next, and T’Challa’s mask disappeared into his necklace. “This place is insane.”

SJ couldn’t move. He was looking at his favorite hero in the entire world, right there in the place he’d call home for the next week. His mind could barely wrap around what he was seeing, and he couldn’t process his emotions. Tears started flowing down his face, and a sob wracked his body.

“Hey, hey. It’s ok, baby,” Ana crouched down and wiped his tears as Stef came over with Daveed on his hip.

“You’re not excited to see Black Panther?” He asked his eldest son.

SJ shook his head, and T’Challa deflated. Erik kept his snickering to himself, but Mira shot him a look anyway.

“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to upset him.”

“He’s just in shock. It’ll wear off eventually,” Ana said as she brushed SJ’s locs out of his face.

————

It took way longer to wear off than they thought, and by the time they arrived at the party venue in the palace’s botanical gardens that afternoon, he still hadn’t said a word. T’Challa tried to speak to him a couple of times, but he shied away behind Mira or his parents. Eventually, Erik convinced him to give the kid some space and pulled the dejected king away to the other side of the garden. While the other kids and their parents arrived, SJ kept looking at T’Challa out of the corner of his eye.

“You know, he doesn’t bite...or scratch,” Mira leaned in and said to her nephew as she sat down next to him at the kid’s table. “In fact, he’s pretty cool once you get to know him.”

“Does Imani know?” he spoke up for the first time in hours, and Mira was happy to hear his voice again.

“Oh, yeah. He told us when we got here, but it’s a secret so she pinky promised not to tell. You know, I screamed when I saw him.”

“You did?!”

“Mhm. He really needs to learn how to ease people into it, huh?” she asked as she poked at his side, making him giggle. Stef and Ana watched from a few yards away and smiled with him while they kept a watchful eye on Daveed as he waddled around the flowers.

SJ nodded in response, and Mira kissed his temple before getting up and leaving him to ponder her words. Right when he had worked up the courage to speak to his hero, Erik announced that Imani was on her way with Ororo and Ramonda.

“I can’t wait to see my baby girl!” Ana squealed.

Mira excitedly grabbed Erik’s hand, and he kissed her knuckles, making Stef narrow his eyes as he and his family hid behind a mango tree.

Imani appeared with her auntie and future cousin, and T’Challa recorded as she squealed excitedly at seeing everybody. A’Kidi, Kofi, Sanaa, A’Sami, Ade, and all her other friends from school greeted her with a loud “Happy birthday!” The newly five-year-old’s tunnel vision made her almost ignore her parents and other adults completely until Erik picked her up and gave her a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

“Happy birthday, Cupcake!”

“We have a surprise for you,” Mira sang.

“What is it?” Imani asked excitedly.

Erik set her down and turned her around as Mira motioned for her family to reveal themselves. SJ ran out from behind the tree and nearly tackled his cousin to the ground while her aunt, uncle, and baby cousin took a calmer approach.

“There’s the birthday girl!” Stef exclaimed while his eldest son continued to squeeze her tight. SJ let her go, and she ran into her uncle’s arms. Ana crouched down next to him, and Imani threw her arms around her neck.

“We’ve missed you so much!” Ana said as she fought tears.

“I missed you too. Wakanda is so cool! I can’t wait to show you everything,” Imani babbled.

“Did you know about Black Panther?” SJ asked, still a little nervous about meeting his hero.

Imani nodded, “I promised to keep it a secret, or I would’ve told you. It’s so cool, right?”

SJ nodded, and Imani dragged him off to meet her friends.

Erik couldn’t keep the smile off his face if he tried as he watched his little social butterfly play with her friends and cousin. It wasn’t until Mira came up and nudged him that he even realized he was staring.

“You ok?” she asked.

“Hm? Yeah, I’m fine,” he said as he put his arm around her and kissed her temple. “Just reliving some things.”

Mira looked at him curiously and he continued, “One of the few good memories I have from childhood that we talked about in therapy was my seventh birthday party. This kind of reminds me of that.”

Mira smiled as they stood there and watched Shuri, Ororo, and T’Challa play with the kids. The king regaled them with stories of his adventures, and Shuri let them ride on very slow hoverbikes while Ororo harnessed the wind to lift them up and let them fly a couple of feet off of the ground. The kids were having a ball, and their parents seemed to enjoy themselves as well. Okoye, M’Baku, and a couple other people gravitated towards each other and fell into conversation about being single parents. However, the rest of them spent most of their time ogling the royal family.

Eventually, it was time to eat and the parents were able to corral the kids into sitting down at the table. After stuffing their faces with an array of Imani’s favorite foods, Mira led the “happy birthday” song as she and Ayo carried out a huge Doc McStuffins birthday cake. Imani and SJ were the only kids who knew who she was, but everyone enjoyed the cake nonetheless. Erik couldn’t help the tear that almost came to his eye as he listened to his wife sing to their daughter, just like his mother had done to him. Loudly and slightly off key. Next, Shuri led the group in a Wakandan birthday song, and Imani blew out the huge number five candle in the center of the cake.

Mira kept stealing glances at Erik as he sliced it up and handed out pieces to everyone. He looked so happy. Even when one of the kids tripped and got icing all over his pants leg, he just kept on smiling.

Even Stef noticed the change in his brother-in-law’s demeanor and brought it up to Ana, “He smiles too much now. It’s weird.”

“It’s weird that he’s happy?”

“No, it’s just weird to see. He used to be so…”

“Surly and unapproachable.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Maybe you should get to know him?”

“Hmph,” he grunted in response. Ana decided to leave it alone for the time being and left his side to go talk to Erik.

“You think you can handle the sleepover?” she asked him.

“Thank Bast it’s not all of them.”

“It’s not?”

“Hell no, just her little crew,” he pointed to A’Kidi, Kofi, Sanaa, A’Sami, and Ade. “I’m not taking care of all these kids.”

Ana laughed, “Understood.”

“So...your husband still doesn’t like me, huh?”

“Can you blame him?” Ana deadpanned.

“Nah, I’d be the same way in his shoes.”

“He’ll come around eventually...maybe,” she said as she placed a comforting hand on his arm before being pulled away by her son to watch the Black Panther and Storm show off their powers some more. SJ still couldn’t bring himself to speak to T’Challa, but it was a start.

As the party wound down and most of Imani’s classmates went home, the few that stuck around relocated inside to the Stevens’ suite in the palace. Even with a handful of screaming children in his home, Erik was on cloud nine. He loved to see a smile on his Cupcake’s face, and he wondered if he looked that happy when he was a kid. He concluded he probably did, and as the kids watched an animated movie, he and Mira curled up on the couch behind them. While the rugrats were distracted, he pulled her chin up to plant a kiss on her lips.

“What was that for?” she smiled.

“I’ve just been thinking…”

“About what?”

“About making more good memories, you know? Some of the happiest times in my life were times just like this…and time spent with you.”

Mira looked down with a smile on her face and he brought it back up to look in her eyes.

“Marry me again.”

Her eyebrows damn near reached her hairline and a Grinch-like smile crept up her face as she nodded.

“I’d love to.” Next Chapter

Taglist: @ladymac82, @kitesatforestp, @harleycativy, @raysunshine78, @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @motheroffae, @love-mesome-me, @toni9, @bribrisback

[wrienne]

Official Post: Writing Comeback!

I was going to post this on Twitter but realized that it became way too much text to fit in a comfortable format there. Also, since this is the revitalization of my writing and Tumblr page, I thought I might as well fuse both of them together!

This will be a semi-long but official post regarding all my writing plans. For those of you who just want the TL;DR: I haven’t abandoned any of my Ao3 stories, in fact I’ve already planned for sequels for both AHPHand DL. I’m also working on minor revisions with TET and finally writing the sequel, The Essence Prince, which I plan on posting exclusively here on Tumblr! Tumblr will also be my all-in-one hub for all my writing and art and blogging!

Firstly, about Ao3!

None of my stories on Ao3 are abandoned! I have full intention of continuing and finishing all my stories. In fact, for I have a second season planned for AHPH and a sequel to DLas well! I know it's very ambitious considering how my tempo of writing has been the last two years, but my circumstances have changed drastically since then. Not to get too personal, but I’ve wasted so much precious time and effort on people who didn’t deserve it. Although it’s regrettable, I have learned incredibly much from this experience and I feel more focused and happy than ever before!

Regarding AHPH, I feel no need to stress the actual plot and story that I have developed for it, as I want it to be a pleasant, fun and comfortable read. I don’t wanna say anything about it, not even a tease as it might disturb the reader experience and the overall narrative I’m pursuing. But there is a bigger picture to the entire story and world, which will unravel slowly but surely toward Season Two. As such, you can expect AHPH to be a very long ride!

As for DL, I have hit somewhat of a creative block in terms of the story’s pacing. However, it is not meant for a long run, and I really want to focus on finishing it as soon as possible. You can expect more familiar faces to appear in the sequel, such as Namjoon as a Sherlock-esque mastermind/private detective and Hoseok as either a chief prosecutor/lawyer or criminal psychologist. The story will be about the case that Reader cracked during her time at the police academy and made her famous among her peers!

Secondly, we’ve got my refreshed and now active Tumblr!

All my writing, whether they’re meant for Wattpad, Ao3 or original fiction, will be posted on Tumblr first! So, if you wanna get a faster look at any of them or you want the convenience of one single place where you can read everything that I write or make, you can find everything here. I wanna use Tumblr as my one-in-all hub for all my creative endeavors, making easier for both me and readers to find all keep track of all my updates and stories! And, speaking of all my creative endeavors...

Thirdly, I have not yet abandoned my dream of making webtoons! I can’t say for sure when this dream can be realized, but I’ve got two stories in the making: The Emperor’s Bride and The Dragon’s Wish. Both are based in Korean culture, mythology and history. The Emperor’s Bride is set in a pseudo-alternative Korea where the almighty tyrant and mysteriously masked Emperor seeks his first bride in a trial of one hundred women, of which one is the main character – however, she’s only joined the competition to exact her vengeance on the Emperor. The Dragon’s Wish is based in contemporary Seoul where a failing acting student is struck by a falling star and finds her destiny intertwined with a dragon – or two. Some ideas for characters for The Dragon’s Wish are already posted on Twitter!

In general, I wanna do art and draw, so outside my webtoon endeavors, you can look forward to more than just writing from me in the future!

Fourthly, I have decided to finally get back to working on The Essence Series. It’s been a complicated project to return to out of personal reasons, and I’ve also developed vastly in terms of writing since I wrote The Essence Thief. As such, I’ve been going back and forth on revisioning The Essence Thief once more, or even rewrite it completely. This has caused me mentally to keep putting the sequel on hold, which I now realize has been a horrible idea. So now instead, I have decided to simply correct any minor errors that still remain in The Essence Thief and move on to The Essence Prince! And yes, name drop for the official title of the sequel! A new face will be introduced, as the last missing piece of the OT7, and the threat of King Kwang-Jin will be dealt with as secrets crawl back to surface! I will be posting the raw firsts draft/manuscript here on Tumblr as I write them! Feedback of all kind is what I will be needing, but also the pressure and expectations from readers in order to get me to write! The final result of The Essence Prince will be a published book and sequel to The Essence Thief, so I hope you’ll be looking forward to that!

Lastly, I will be using Tumblr as a blog as well. I want to post travel and college stuff and other things unrelated to my writing and art. In regard to my previous series on my WordPress, “Writing Wednesdays”, is something that I am also considering, but let me know what you think!

Always and forever, thank you for reading! If you reached this far, I want to tell you once more how happy and fortunate I feel having so much support for my writing. It means, literally, the world to me. Thank you.

[moon-spirit-yue]

Camp Chaos

(See the description if you’re confused I put it under the Camp Chaos tag)

Part 1/5

Raya groaned at the beeping of her alarm clock, effectively waking her up. There is truly no sound more hideous than that of an alarm. Despite every instinct in her body screaming at her to snuggle back into the blankets, she walks out of bed to put on her clothes for the day. ‘Maybe staying up until 3:00 am wasn’t the best idea,’ Raya thought absently.

Benja was already making breakfast for the two of them. The delicious smell was making Raya’s mouth water in anticipation.

“Morning, dewdrop! Are you ready for the first day of camp?” Bejna asked brightly. All he got was a groan in response. He laughed and served the exhausted girl her breakfast.

“Maybe if you weren’t up all night playing Mario Kart on your phone, you would be a little more awake,” her ba laughed. “But Ba! You don’t understand! I had to finish the courses!” Raya exclaimed in her defense.

“Oh so you have time to finish Mario Kart courses but no time for driving courses? Interesting, ” he grinned. Raya pouted as she finished her breakfast. “I’ll wait for you in the car. Hopefully by then you can stop being so RUDE to your only child!” she exclaimed, stomping into the car. She should probably start working on that driver's permit soon though.

Raya fell asleep on the ride over so it felt like no time had passed when they arrived at camp. Raya leapt out of the car immediately to find her only joy in this nightmare, her best friend Sisu. Raya was able to spot her light blue hair from a mile away, and walked over to greet her. And by greeting her, she meant collapse on her.

“You were totally up all night playing Mario Kart on your phone, weren’t you my ray of sunshine?” Sisu asked while laughing. Raya whined and buried her head further into Sisu. “You don’t realize the addiction Sisu, I was too invested!” Raya replied. Sisu cackled and brought a comforting hand on her friend’s shoulder.

“Well are you ready for camp? You have first grade girls right? They’re usually pretty cute and there’s only six of them so you shouldn’t go too insane,” Sisu attempted to comfort Raya. She nodded in response. “I forgot what group you have, remind me who you got,” Raya told her blueberry bestie. “I have third grade boys this year,” Sisu said happily. Raya couldn’t help but snort at that response.

“Yeah good luck with that. Let’s hope they don’t make you cry this year,” Raya laughed. (this actually happened the year before last a close acquaintance of mine was literally crying and so was the other counselor and JC I felt so bad for her but it was so funny)

Sisu laughed and shook her head. “That won’t happen this week Raya! I’ve got a good feeling about this group!” Raya rolled her eyes at that. “You say that about every group, Sisu,” Raya chuckled. Sisu nodded in agreement. “And I’m always right. Now let’s head down to the ampitheatre, the kids are going to get dropped off soon,” Raya nodded and followed Sisu out of the cafeteria and down to the ampitheatre.

“Oh I need to tie my shoe real quick, I’ll meet you down there” Raya told her. Sisu nodded and walked on by herself. Raya bent down and tied her shoe when she saw a shadow cast over her.

“Well would you look at that. Camp hasn’t even started and you’re already on your knees. Funny how that works isn’t it?” Raya knew that voice. She dreaded hearing it. It was the voice of Namaari.

Raya took a deep breathe and finishes tying her shoe. “Oh I’m sure you’d love me for me to be on my knees wouldn’t you binturi?” Raya asked, smirking. She knew how to push Namaari’s buttons like no other. And she would say whatever it took to get her through this week.

Namaari scoffed and rolled her eyes, irritation clearly spiking. ‘Good,’ Raya thought. ‘That’ll teach you, you beautiful binturi- wait did I just think beautiful? You know what that’s a problem for another day’ she thinks and mentally erases the thought from her brain.

“I don’t even know if you’re capable of watching your language long enough to take care of these kids,” Namaari said once she recovered from Raya’s jab. Raya scowled and started moving towards where her group is supposed to be. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of a small group of six year olds” Raya snarked back. Before Namaari could try to correct her, the kids came rushing in and they both had to put on their counselor acts on.

Raya had six first grade girls in total. The first portion of the day went on without a hitch. The girls were still a bit shy, but slowly warmed up to each other over the first couple of hours. By the time it was lunch, they were excitedly talking about going to the pool right. Raya couldn’t help but smile at their innocent and positive energy. “Alright girls, let’s head down to the pool,” Raya said, gathering their attention.

On of Raya’s campers noticed Raya wasn’t wearing and bathing suit, “Raya where’s your bathing suit?” Raya shrugged and simply stated that she wouldn’t be swimming because of the cold weather. She gathered the little girls to head down to the pool and waited outside the gates when she heard the most annoying voice in all of Kumandra speak.

“Where’s the bathing suit Raya? Scared of a bit of water?” Namaari teased, arriving with the first grade boys. Raya mentally groaned at her arrival. Of course this binturi was going to ruin her vibes. “I am not SCARED of the water it is freezing out here! I don’t understand how you can stand to be in a bathing suit right now,” Raya said, rolling her eyes.

Namaari just smirked. “Just one more way I’m better than you, dep la,” she said, obviously taunting Raya. Raya scowled and turned to her JC. “Watch the kids, I’m getting my bathing suit” she snapped. The little girls cheered as Raya rushed off to change.

Raya couldn’t help but stare at Namaari’s muscles being shown through her bathing suit. Raya was very smug to see Namaari checking Raya out in her bikini. Neither called the other girl out on their staring and just admired the view.

After playing mermaids with the first grade girls, one of Raya’s campers decided to wake up and choose competition because she yelled with no hesitation, “I bet Raya is faster at swimming than Namaari!” The girls obviously back her up while the first grade boys argued that Namaari was the superior swimmer. “Only one way to find out. Care for a friendly challenge Raya?” Namaari asked, grinning in an almost wicked way.

Raya rolled her eyes but nodded anyways. “I just hope you won’t be too upset when you lose, dep la,” Raya giggled. Namaari smirked and simply lined up on the wall.

A little boy form Namaari’s grouo started the count down. “Three, two, one, GO!” and the two were off, swimming with all their might. They were neck and neck, when suddenly a floaty landed right in front of both of them, blocking their path to the end of the pool. Their campers groaned at the abrupt end of the race when the life guards blew the whistle to signal everyone to get dried off.

“Saved by the whistle, weren’t you Namaari?” Raya asked grinning. Namaari snorted and rolled her eyes. “If anyone should be thankful for that bell it should be you Raya, I was about to win that race and you know it.” They continued their bickering until they walked back to their cabins.

One of the little girls grinned mischievously at Raya which made the eighteen year old girl feel very nervous. “Soooooo Raya, do you have a crush on Namaari?” She asked giggling. Raya gaped at the child with burning red cheeks. “I absolutely do NOT LIKE NAMAARI-“ she yelled in her defense as the girls kept on yelling how she totally did like Namaari. Raya groaned and thought of a way out of this mess.

“Who wants to go to arts and crafts?!” Raya yelled. The girls cheered in excitement and raced off to make some crafts. After the excitement of crafts, Raya rallied the girls to get their stuff together and head home for the day.

Once all of the children had gone, Raya crawled into Sisu’s car and whined, “Kids are such a handful I don’t know how I’ll survive four more days of this.”

“You’re just mad because a bunch of first graders called out your crush on Namaari” Sisu grinned. Raya bolted up right in her seat and friend at her blue haired buddy. “I do not have a crush on Namaari! I don’t know where those kids could have possibly gotten that idea,” she snapped.

Sisu nodded reassuringly. “Whatever you say Raya, whatever you say. Let’s go back to my place and eat some ice cream. You’ll feel better afterwards.” All Raya could do was nod in agreement and get whisked away to Sisu’s place. Raya closed her eyes and listened to the music blaring from the car, praying with all her might that the week will end before she strangled that stupidly attractive binturi.

(Guys I really hope this is adequate I am EXHAUSTED so I made so many spelling errors I promise I’ll fix them tomorrow but tonight I am hitting the hay I shall see you guys later)

[random-mha-thoughts]

Sleepless (LoV x Reader)

Pairing: League of Villains x Reader, platonic relationship

Shigaraki, Toga, Twice, Kurogiri, Dabi x reader

@riarora messaged me with the request: "So I was thinking platonic LOV x child reader (You can make them 18 if you're more comfortable, but I was thinking more like 14-15)The reader (I'll refer to them as she/her, but you can make it gender neutral) has really bad insomnia so every night, she would be pacing around, doing anything and everything to make sure no dark thoughts take over. Usually, none of the LOV would bat an eye, but considering the fact that she's a child, they feel sympathy, so they indirectly try to get her to fall asleep. Like, sending her on extra missions (always with protection of course) or changing her normal tea with sleeping tea, or maybe just straight up telling her to sleep."

Genre: Comfort

Word Count: 2,291

Tags:  @yuki-osaki​ @liviitehe​ @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog

a/n: Thanks for the request sweetie!  I hope you like it~

Wrote this while listening to a Shinsou playlist on Spotify and it was pretty chill to listen to, if y’all want the link you can comment or dm me and I’ll send it.  Something different, but I like how it turned out. It's twice as long as I thought it would end up being, but I think it fits.  It's a comfort story that I hope you guys will read even if you don't normally read stuff for the villains.  I really like it, I hope you guys read it if you need some comforting.  Enjoy~

Like a lot of people, I don't have the nicest thoughts.  Most nights, I'm trying everything to block them out and find the sweet release of sleep, whether it's trying to consciously think of other things to block them out, escaping out of my sheets to pace or run in place inside this small room I was given, or getting up to get a snack.  Unsurprisingly, none of it works.  The rest of the League constantly tease me about my dark circles making me look more villainous all I do is smile, because at least it means I'm part of something now.  I would ask them to get me something to busy myself, like a sketch book or a notebook to keep me busy at night, but they aren't my parents; they have no obligation to take care of me and they've already give me a roof over my head and a bed to sleep in.

Little by little, the perceived barrier between us broke down before I realized it.

It started when I took one of my late night trips to the kitchen only to see the light on already.  Toga's crooked but innocent smile beams up at me as she twirls a knife in her hand, leaning against the counter.  "You're up too, hmm~?  Wanna take a trip with me?"

We ended up shrugging on our jackets and masks, walking into the dark, brisk night to the nearest grocery store.  "You waited until 2 AM to get pomegranates?" I raised an eyebrow at her zipping straight to the produce section of the market.

"I didn't wanna go alone~" Toga casually responded in her singsongy voice.  "A little girl like me shouldn't be out alone at night.  Besides, late night shopping in a practically empty supermarket is the best time to go.  It's super creepy!"  She giggles, filling a plastic bag with three large fruits.

We returned to our hideout and she asked me to help her de-seed them.  I slide in next to her, taking the knife out of her hand.  Not like I had anything better to do.  What was I gonna do, sleep?  Sure, okay.

She sliced the fruits in half and held her hands over a large, empty container, using just her hands to push the seeds off the bitter white core, humming to herself.  "Are you sure there isn't a more...strategic way to do this?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at the mess she was making of her hands.

Toga just giggled and held my stare with her cat-like yellow eyes.  "When it gets all over your fingers, it kind of looks like blood doesn't it?" She shivered in ecstasy as she licked the scarlet juice running down her hands and the knife she cut them with.  "Mmm, so sweet."

While I continued, trying to avail to be as clean as possible, taking sips of the tea she made for us while we work.  I chanced a few tastes myself, chuckling at my own hands.  "You're right, it looks like we've commit murder."

"Right?" she chirped with the widest grin, "Isn't it fun?"

I made a better point to get more juice on my fingers before curling my fingers grossly towards her.  "I want your heart, Toga.  Give it to me!" I growled.

She giggled and held one of my wrists so she can lick some of the juice off.  "Too bad you can't have it."

After we finished gathering the seeds into the bowl, we sat on the couch, munching on them by the handful and finishing our drinks.  My eyelids kept drooping as I drank my tea.

"We should go on adventures more often," Toga purred as I near the end, taking my cup, laying me down, and covering my body with a blanket before petting my head.  Her voice singing, "Sleep well, (Y/n)" was the last thing I heard before drifting off.  It was the best night's sleep I'd gotten in a long while.

.

A few days later, Kurogiri stopped me from heading to bed while the rest went off.  "I heard you and Toga up late a few nights ago.  Why don't you help me clean up before going up?"

I agreed, mostly because I would be awake with my thoughts anyway.  He had me shining his glasses, climbing up a ladder to dust the top shelves of his bar, wiping down the counters, and organizing his liquor.

"Have some of this, child."  He set down a cup of tea and saucer on the counter while I was organizing his top shelf liquor, the clock flashing 1:57 AM.  "You've been a big help."

I climbed down carefully and stare down at the translucent, peach colored liquid carefully.

He noticed my cautiousness.  "How are you adjusting?"

I tilted the cup around, swishing the liquid around before holding it up to my lips.  "It's better than where I was before, thank you."

"I'm glad you're settling in and getting along with the rest."

"It's just Toga so far."  I sipped a good portion of the hot liquid, easing down my through smooth as the honey I can taste that he added.

"It'll take time for the others to warm up to you.  Shigaraki and Dabi especially don't take to strangers that easily, but they'll come around."  His cold, portal enclosed hand rested on my head.  "We're happy to take you in as our family, (Y/n)."

I smiled at his assurance of me, nodding in gratitude, but still hesitant about feeling that I fit in here.

We talked for a while more until I finished his tea and he sent me off to bed.  Though reluctant - I even offered to do more cleaning up to keep myself there - he insisted I leave.  I trudge to my room, the exhaustion in my bones and muscles more apparent than usual.  I know this old trick; even when I'm fatigued, my thoughts still keep me up.  But as I ease under the blanket and close my eyes, I feel myself pulled down into sleep without interference.  I started thinking there was something in the tea.

.

It took a while for Shigaraki to come around, as Kurogiri said.  He heard the rustling of me rolling around in bed on his way back from getting a glass of water from the kitchen.  "Hey, you still awake?"

I turned over and sat up.  "Am I bothering you?  I'm sorry-"

"You wanna come play games with me?"  It was an unexpected question.  He never talked much to me so I figured he wanted to keep his distance.

But I still agreed, ending up in his dark room where only the TV cast its artificial light over us.  He pulled up another pillow for me to sit with him, leaning back against the mattress and box-spring stack.  He resumed his game, some kind of RPG with amazing art and storytelling.  The main character had jet black hair and traveled with three other guys of varying talents and personalities.  They seemed to have a great relationship together as they trekked across their virtual world in a fancy car. (1000 brownie points if you know which game i'm referencing)

There was a hilarious part in the game where the crew rode on the backs of these fluffy, yellow birds that were the size of ostriches.  "What's the point of this part?" I asked curiously.

Shigaraki beamed at the screen, his chapped lips spreading in joy.  "It's just something you always have to do in these games."

My eyes remained glued to the screen.  Shigaraki wouldn't ask me if I wanted to play after one time, which I appreciated.  I'm not too good at playing games, I prefer watching other people play them from the sidelines.  I followed the complicated story line, impressed with how fleshed out the world is, the detail in the art, and the power system interface.  If I were better at gaming, I'd understand how amazing it would feel playing it; I was immersed in it even as a spectator.

The game got to a cave-crawling segment.  The eased up voice acting, ambient noise, and dimmed lighting made my eyes heavy.  I didn't want to fall asleep in Shigaraki's room, but I also knew that I wouldn't be able to sleep if I went back to mine.

"You can sleep if you want.  Get comfortable."

Though he didn't particularly use a motherly voice like Kurogiri, I understood he was trying to come off the same way.  I ended up laying on my head on my pillow, sprawling onto the floor on my stomach, the noise of the game slowly lulling me off to sleep.  In the morning, I would wake to a blanket pulled over my body.  It somehow became a weekly occurrence; we wouldn't talk to each other, but the silence was comfortable.  It was reassuring that I didn't always need that strange tea to put me to sleep.

.

Late nights with Twice are probably my favorite.  He's like a huge dad, or much older big brother.  I connected with him on a more emotional level than the rest.  If I found myself in the kitchen rummaging for snacks, he'd come up and pick out a bunch and sit us at the table with some tea.

"I have trouble sleeping too sometimes," he admitted, popping some chips in his mouth.  "I was lonely before I found these guys.  I had no one but myself, and the many versions of myself weren't the most forgiving on me either."

I stared down at my glass of warmed milk.  "So your thoughts were actually told out loud to you all the time?" I whispered softly.

"Yup."  He blinked before waving his hands in front of his face wildly.  "But that doesn't mean I had it worse than you, that's not what I'm saying at all!  Your problems are just as valid and important and-!"

"It's okay, I understand."

He offered a sympathetic lopsided smile.  "I know you've been through a lot, kid, and it probably feels like a lot and nothing at the same time.  The times when it feels like a lot will hurt, and that's okay.  You'll get through it and grow up to deal with it in your own way.  And there is a light at the end of the tunnel, believe me.  You can't see it now, but it's there.  Keep fighting through it."  He touched my hand over the glass.  "I'm here for you, we're here for you."

I felt like crying, suddenly choked up by the bitter nostalgia of missing my parents.  "You'd be a great Dad, Twice."  I tried to cover for my tears and unsteady voice by clearing my throat and rubbing my eyes.

He hummed in response.  "I've always wanted a kid.  Things never ended up that way though."

I found myself finally sobbing at his misfortune piling on top of mine.  "That's really shitty actually," I choked out.

He handed me a tissue to wipe my face with.  "Let it out, kid.  Sometimes it's good to just cry it out."

And I did, until I finally sobbed myself to sleep at the table, and Twice picked up and returned me to my bed, tucking me in like the soft dad he should've been.

.

Dabi remained the hard nose one, keeping his distance and looking down on me.  Like Shigaraki, walked by my room while I was tossing around, but he stood over my bed.  "Hey.  If you don't go to sleep, I'm putting you to work."

Put me to work he did, sending me out to fetch him snacks, cards, or cigarettes.  Once, he decided to join me and we ended up on the roof of our abandoned building after coming back from the convenience store.  The stars already dusted the sky as Dabi lit the cigarettes with his blue flames just for fun, watching them disintegrate into ash in front of his eyes.  I never knew how to get him to open up, he's too gruff for me to start a conversation with him, so I stuck to being mesmerized by his flames.

"What's on your mind that you can't sleep, kid?" he finally asked, breaking the awkward silence and cutting off his quirk to stare me hard in the eyes.

"N-Nothing."  I hated to admit it, but I'm scared of Dabi the most.  Both him and Shigaraki can end my life in a fraction of a second, but Dabi overall has the scarier aura.  "Just...thinking."

After a few more moments of braving his stare, he looked up.  "Yeah, we all do that a lot, don't we?  Us damn human can't help but think.  It'd be nice if we can pull the cord sometimes, yeah?"

"I guess," I answered carefully.

He studied me again out of the corner of his eye before flickering back up.  "Do you ever think that's why none of us survive well alone?  We need other people to distract us all the time because then we'd get stuck in our heads, and we all know how dangerous that can be if we're stuck there for too long.  It never ends well."  He adjusts himself, placing his hands behind his head to rest his neck.  "We all got demons, kid.  It's what makes us stronger, but you gotta grow from them first.  And I guess that's what the rest of us are for, so if you need us, you know what to do."

It was with Dabi that I realized he had a point.  I'm not alone anymore and none of the others seem to think of me as a stranger or a stupid little kid they have to be responsible for.  I'm a member of this group now, I should rely on them as support, just not in the traditional way.

How I ultimately ended up here doesn't help any of the awful things I tell myself or what happened to me, but being here definitely helps, especially when I'm surrounded by people who subtly share solidarity with for now.

[g0ttal0ve101]

Eddie in Wonderland (Part 1)

[This is based off of the 1951 film of Alice in Wonderland. I will be skipping some parts and characters, since the cast is pretty small. Please excuse any errors I make. This art is NOT mine, but it goes along with the story.]

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

A meadow of beautiful daises looked to be dancing as wind blew through the luscious green grass. It was a warm day, a day where animals would be roaming about, a day where children would be playing together, a day where everything was at ease. A woman's voice calmly read out words from a page of a history book, slowly and particularly gentle to make sure each and every word was pronounced correctly. Soothing, but awfully boring.

Above the woman sat a boy in a branch, who was supposedly listening to the words she read. He picked daisies from the meadow and began making a flower crown, holding his dear kitten, Sadie, in his lap. The young boy's foot slipped off of the branch, close to his mother's face as she read. Her blue eyes drifted off the page as she looked at his shiny black shoe, then up at him. "Edward, would you please listen to your history lesson? It's rather rude not to listen."

His ginger hair fell into his face a bit as he placed the daisy crown on his kitten's head. "Sorry, mother. It's very boring to read a book with no pictures."

"Edward, there are plenty of interesting books out there that have no pictures." His mother gazed off at the meadow for a moment, knowing her son wouldn't be listening anyway.

"That can't be true," he tells her, watching as the crown fell to the ground. "In my world, books would only have pictures!"

"In your world? Edward, please. That's absolute nonsense. Now, from the beginning." His mother began to read once more.

"Nonsense? That's it, Sadie!" He sang, scooping Sadie up in his arms. "If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because it would be what it isn't! And contrary wise, what it is, it won't be! And what it wouldn't be, it would! You see?" Eddie puts the grey kitten down, jumping off of the branch without his mother noticing. Sadie let out a mew, still on the tree. "In my world, you wouldn't say "meow." You would say, yes, Mr. Edward." The kitten lets out another meow as Eddie picks her up, holding her close to his chest as he began to walk towards the woods. "Oh, but you would! You'd be just like people, Sadie. And all the other animals too."

Eddie sets Sadie down in the meadow, patting her head softly with a smile. "Why, in my world..." Eddie began to sing,

"Cats and rabbits would reside in fancy little houses...

And be dressed in shoes and hats and trousers..."

Eddie lays in the the flowers, almost disappearing into them. He gazes up at the sky, seeing that the blue moon was already beginning to show.

"In a world of my own...

all the flowers, would have very extra-special powers.

They would sit and talk to me for hours

when I'm lonely, in a world of my own..."

A blue bird then passes him by, causing an even bigger smile to rest upon his cherry cheeks. It reminded him of their small bird at home, who looked very similar.

"There'd be new birds,

lots of nice and friendly "how'd you do" birds.

Everyone would have a dozen blue birds,

within that world of my own..."

Eddie grabs Sadie and began walking down towards the wooded creek. The water was rushing by quickly, so the boy made sure to hold onto his little friend tightly as he skipped over a few rocks.

"I could listen to a babbling brook,

And hear a song that I could understand...

I keep wishing it could be that way,

because my world would be a wonderland!"

Eddie crouched and touched the cool water with his hand, feeling the stream go through his pale fingers. Sadie sat next to him, staring at the liquid as if it was a monster. Eddie's ginger hair was very clear in the reflection of the water, which made him sigh. He never liked how it looked or framed his freckled face. Suddenly, it began to look different. The reflection twisted and turned, showing Eddie's shocked face and a man standing right behind him. He turns quickly, only to see a tall gentleman with black hair, two white rabbit ears, bandages all up and down his body, and wearing a fairly fancy outfit.

Eddie turns around slowly, only to realize that his mind wasn't playing tricks on him. There was actually a man, a rabbit man, standing there behind him. Before Eddie could speak, the rabbit man looks down at a huge golden watch then points at it with a sickening smile.

"You made me three seconds behind. Now you have three seconds to run. That's only fair."

Eddie's green eyes grow huge and his kitten ran away as quickly as possible. He then saw the bloody knife in the man's hand, falling into the creek, but immediately getting up and running away. "MOTHER! MOTHER!"

The rabbit-man chased after poor Eddie, hysterically laughing as the boy had tears streaming down his face. His panic got the better of him, making him become lost in the forest. Eddie was nowhere near the meadow anymore, but he could just barely recognize where he was. His heart was beating out of his chest, feeling his foot fall through a hole and dropping him down who knows where. He let out a terrified scream for his mother, but nothing came from it.

However, his body felt light. He wasn't falling, rather, floating. His white dress shirt fluttered around a bit as his blue tie flew in his face from the unexplainable gravity. "Wha...? What's going on...?" Eddie mumurs, fixing his tie. The hole grew darker and darker, leaving a pit in his stomach grow. However, he could just barely see something that looked to be a lamp on a table. He reached out towards it and flipped the switch, illuminating the area. Random things were around him as he slowly fell, such as tables, chairs, and potted plants. They all seemed to be items that would be in a house regularly, but definitely not in a rabbit hole.

Eddie passes a mirror that catches his horrified expression, then a nightstand with books on it, then a rocking chair, all the way until he fell right on his bum. He was then in a hall with odd coloring floor tiles and weird doors. At the end of the hall stood the rabbit-man again, who held his golden watch. "I'm late cause of you, brat." He then showed Eddie's mask that was supposedly fell out of his back pocket as he was running. "I got this from you, lil-shit. Thanks."

Eddie gasps, knowing that was one of the only things that weren't a hand-me-down from his older brothers. He stood up and chased after the bandaged man in a fuss, forgetting how dangerous this cold be. "Hey! Give that back! It's mine!"

The man ran through a door at the end of the hall, Eddie racing after him in a spur of anger and fear. The door seemed to get smaller when he came closer, but blamed it on his imagination. He opened it, only to see two other small doors behind it, he had to crawl through it into a large room where there was another door the rabbit-man went through. He stood up and grabbed the handle, only for it to wail.

"Oh!" Eddie cried, lifting his hands up and touching his face. "Oh, I'm ever so sorry!"

The doorknob wiggled around like it had a life of it's own. "It is quite alright, young one. What is it you need?"

The voice sounded like a sweet elder gentleman, which comforted Eddie a little bit. "A man has something of mine. I must get through to get it back! It's very...important to me."

"Why, you're much too big to get through."

"I don't understand how he got through when he's taller than me."

"This is Zack we're talking about," the doorknob muttered. "Oh, but you could get through if you drink that substance in the bottle. There is a wooden table over there. It will have a bottle with liquid in it and a key underneath. Drink the liquid and use the key to enter."

Eddie followed the instructions, grabbing the bottle and key on a wooden table in the spacious room. He looked at the both of them, feeling a bit uneasy.

"Uhm...I'm sorry to be rude, but I'm not sure I should trust a liquid such as this...and this key has blood on it!"

"The blood must be from Zack...forgive it please. I have known Zack since he was a mere child. I cannot see, but I am sure the substance is safe as well."

Eddie felt naïve, but he truly believed that the voice was telling the truth. "Alright, I surely do hope I won't get sick from this."

The ginger then took a drink of the blue liquid, tasting the delicious flavor it had. Cookies, now bubblegum, now cake, now caramel. However, after it was all gone, the bottle became bigger and bigger, in which Eddie couldn't onto anymore. This is when he realized that it was not the bottle that got large, but he had shrunk!

"You should be short enough to go through now," the voice exclaimed. "Be careful, young one."

"Mhm! Thank you for the help!" Eddie gushed, opening the door and going through.

He was now in a forest-like area again, seeing the rabbit-man, supposedly named Zack, further in the woods than he was. Eddie hurried to catch up, but it was difficult to keep track of where he was. The trees were so thick and dark that it ended up confusing his eyes to thinking it was the man. "Stop! Please, wait!"

Eddie was then stopped by two pairs of hands grabbing him and pulling him back. He quickly spun around and fell over, in fear of whoever had touched him. There were two gentlemen with long black hair and strange tattoos on their faces. They looked identical, standing next to each other while gazing at Eddie.

"Oh! Why, hello there...!" Eddie nervously giggled, backing away from the two. "I'm sorry if I caused any trouble, I was just looking for a man named...Zack? He was running around just a moment ago. Again, sorry for the bother...it's been nice meeting you! Goodbye-!"

The two gentlemen then stand in front of Eddie, blocking his way from leaving. Eddie chuckled nervously before backing away a little.

"You're doing it backwards." One of them says.

"Yes, you go, 'how do you do?' and shake hands." The other completes the thought.

Eddie gasped, putting his fingertips against his lips. "Oh! Pardon me! My name is Eddie, how do you do?" he giggled, shaking their hands.

"We're splendid!" One says.

"Splendid!" The other adds.

"What are your names, if you don't mind me asking." Eddie puts his hands neatly behind his back, standing on his tip-toes.

"Our name is Shin." They both say with a smile.

"Ah! That is a lovely name! Uhm...I need to get going now, bye...!" Eddie goes around them, trying to speed off and catch Zack. However, the two jump in front of him again.

"Want to play hide-and-seek?"

"Or who has the button?"

"Thank you for the offer, but I really must get going." Eddie tries to walk around them again, but they both grab each of his arms to hold him back.

"Why?" They both ask together.

"I must catch up to a rabbit-man who has something very dear to me." Eddie says in a tender and loving tone, trying to convince the two to let him go. "Please, allow me to find him."

The two look at each other with a smirk, grabbing the boy and pushing him onto a small log to sit on. "We will tell you a story first." They both say together. Before Eddie could reject the offer, the two begin dancing around and singing.

"There once was a boy who made graves and got nothing of his own,"

"The only thing he got was the smooth and flat stone!"

"And over the trees,"

"And over the hills,"

"Laid a grave-robber at work."

"He took all the bodies,"

"It was his hobby,"

"And began to sing this song! Ohhh,"

"These bodies will make me rich, my boy! These bodies will make me rich! Take them and hurry, runaway, scurry, and watch him go berserk!"

"The young boy decided enough was enough,"

"Knowing what the man had done!"

"Grabbing his hand,"

"Pushing him in,"

"And began to sing! Ohhh,"

"This grave will be ugly, with no beauty at all! I'll put the robber in the casket with no one else involved!"

"The robber screamed,"

"And wailed,"

"And cried,"

"But no one came along!"

"This is why you never steal from a grave-keeper's son! Hurrah!"

Eddie stared at the two with complete confusion, looking genuinely concerned. "That story...has a moral to it, huh?"

"Don't steal from a grave-keeper!" The two shouted with a twisted grin, almost implying that Eddie would know this.

"...Well, I ought to be going."

"We have another song!"

"Yes, about a girl who stitches people up!"

The two began to sing about another odd topic, Eddie sneaking away when the two weren't looking. He saw a glimpse of bandaged rabbit ears behind a huge tree in the distance, regaining his composure and chasing after the man. "Wait! Please, wait! Wherever are you going?!" Eddie soon finds himself running down a dirt path, leading towards a garden of flowers. Since he was still so small from the drink, the flowers looked huge and out of the ordinary. He entered the flowerbed as he looked around for Zack. "Where are you?! Please, come bac-!"

Eddie was then met eye-to-eye with a flower, which had a face. It clears its throat, lifting up a small stick and beginning to orchestrate a song piece for the other flowers to sing. They all sounded wonderful. Eddie couldn't help but to watch them all flutter around gracefully with their petals in the air. His eyes then lock onto the most humanoid looking one; White petals, beautiful golden hair, and two big brown eyes. She laid by many spider webs underneath the sunset, the dew on her making her look so angelic. She was by far the prettiest, the most talented, and the most separated from the other flowers.

Eddie and the flower made eye contact, only for her to blush a rosy red and look away sheepishly as she continued to sing. The young boy was then stopped by the other flowers who surrounded him, seeing that he was the only one not singing. He nervously giggled and looked around to see all eyes on him.

"My, you are all so wonderful." Eddie praised their performance with a gentle smile. The girl flowers all swayed over him, whispering about his looks.

"Thank you very much, dear." The orchestrater rubbed her petals against Eddie's cheek before pushing him a little closer to the rest of the flowers. "Now, may I ask what flower you are?"

"Oh, why, I'm a steady-ready-Eddie flower!" He sang, causing the girls to swoon again.

"A steady-Eddie-what?"

"Look at that stem!" One flower exclaimed, grabbing his suspenders and yanking them a little.

"And those petals!" Another shouted, running their leaves through his ginger locks. "They smell like pumpkin spice, not very much like a flower though..."

"I think he's gorgeous," the white flower girl spoke, only to be hushed by the others.

"What flowerbed are you from?"

"None, ma'am."

"Are you a wildflower?"

"No, I'm not a flower at all!" Eddie finally told them. He didn't know that their response would be negative to that answer. Everyone began to whisper about him and the white-petaled girl looked a bit distressed. He was going to ask what was wrong, only to be grabbed and thrown away.

"He's a weed!"

"A weed!"

"We don't want weeds in our flowerbed!"

"I'm not a weed!" he cried, landing on his hands and knees. The flowers then began throwing water on him that was stored in their petals above. Eddie clenched his fists and stood up, now soaking wet. "Well, if I were my regular size, I could pick each and everyone of you!"

"Get out of here, weed!"

Eddie huffed, dusting himself off and looking back at them. The white flower girl gave him a small smile and waved, causing Eddie's anger to dissolve as he did the same. He then turned away to see that the dirt path led into a meadow that looked like a jungle, since he was so small. Each strand of grass was as big as a tree and all of the mushrooms were almost as tall as Eddie himself. He began his way through, knowing that the white rabbit must have gone this way. His black shoes that his mother had just polished grew muddy as the path grew wet. This was awfully annoying.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

I will post Part 2 later today~❤

[simp-4-kylo]

can i get a softie!kylo ren x reader? the reader got back from a dangerous mission (he couldn't go with) and almost gets killed by a saber. while at med bay kylo rushes in and crawls in bed with her. lots of fluff. softie supreme leader!!

Can’t lose you 

Warnings/tags: softie!Kylo, mentions of war/fighting, blood, injured reader, mentions of needles, fluff, uhh Kylo Ren is nice (in this one), lmaooo

Word Count: 1,264

A/N: I am slowly making my rounds to the requests, trust me they’re all in the works!!! I actually really love the idea of the reader getting hurt and Kylo being all soft. I lowkey want to make a discord server where we as star wars fans/adam fans can just vibe together. Also, I’m totally not writing this in the middle of english class #SorryNotSorry haha. (also I have def used that gif before-)

The rush of cold air from the docking bay rushed into the shuttle causing each wound to slightly burn. The smell of burnt skin and clothes filled your nose, it couldn’t quite leave. That sickening smell mixed with the smell of cleaner and oli. The docking bay was jammed packed with shuttles landing from the recent mission, people working on different tie-fighters, prisoners being brought in, crates being loaded into ships to be sent off. 

Lights flashing by as two medics rushed you down what seemed to be the longest hallway on the Finalizer. The bed that you were laying on proceeded to get soak with blood and dirt. Your eyes grew heavier by the second and you couldn’t keep them open much longer, you heard a muffled voice say “Mrs. Ren, keep your eyes open for…” Then the world went black.

Sweat dripped down Kylo’s back and soaked his training clothes. He released a muffled grunt as he drew back his saber and swung it towards his Knights. He managed to push two of his knights back, he sliced through the air doing flips and tricks, it was an art that he was still mastering. He raised his crackling red saber above his head and blocked a hit, he released a deep grunt and pushed with all his force and grazed the shoulder of his knight. 

“Excuse me Supreme Leader, I was sent to-” A younger officer had come through the doors of the training room, looking quite small and out of place. A skinny male who was visibly shaking. Kylo had cut him off and said “What? What is so important that you come into my training room and disturb me while I am training with my knights. What could possibly be that important”. He ended his sentence with a click of his saber and clipped the hilt to his side. 

“I’m sorry sir, but uh. It’s uh- the recent mission Mrs. Ren was on- well they’re back.” The young officer said, looking around the training room, he was once again cut off by Kylo. “Then get out of my way so I can go see her, you are wasting my time.” Kylo said and he brushed past the officer, but before Kylo could get all the way out the door the officer turned around and said “she’s in the medical wing, she was injured during battle.” The smaller man was staring at the floor when he said this. He was waiting for Kylo to ignite his lightsaber and cut off his head, after a few seconds of pure horror, the guard looked up and Kylo was no longer standing there. 

Kylo made his way through the halls of the Finalilzer, he knew he should have made you stay with him on board the ship. It was his damn fault that you were now in the medical wing, stars know what is going to happen to you. He tried to steer his thoughts in a good direction, it was extremely hard when he could feel life slowly drain from you. You’re ability with the force wasn’t as strong as Kylo’s, it was something the two of you had always been working at. Any storm trooper that came between you and Kylo moved to the very edge of the hall, they lowered their heads out of respect.

The sound of heavy stomping boots grew louder as you slowly opened your eyes and the feeling of anger and vulnerability washed over you. You tried to open your eyes all the way but the bright lights were too much. Laying there in the long bed, with your eyes half open and half closed you heard the door open. You tried to lift your head to see who had just entered the room but you couldn’t, you slightly moved up in the bed while doing so, releasing a grunt. 

You waited for someone to start speaking to you, but you never heard any words. The only noise that filled the room was the heart monitor attached to you and distorted breathing coming from the end of the hospital bed. Finally you were able to open your eyes all the way, you reached up to rub them a couple times when you heard the figure in front of you clear their throat, which made you remove your hands from your face. 

As your world started to become clearer, you had realized that the tall figure at the end of your bed was Kylo. You had wondered how he got here since he was in the middle of training and was he going to be mad at you? You tried your best on the mission and honestly you couldn’t let Kylo down especially on your first mission without him leading. He had put so much faith in you, trained you for weeks, told you everything that needed to happen. He even asked if you felt better if one of the knights came along, but you had declined. You knew you were strong enough to do this without any help.  

“I knew something was going to go wrong on that mission.” Kylo had said after he reached up to remove his helmet. You just stared at him, you were afraid he was going to yell and be angry. “I”m sorry Kylo, I know you trusted me to complete this mission and I tried my best. I really did. It all happened so fast, I’m not even sure wha-.” He had cut you off mid sentence and replied “Hush. I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at the storm troopers for not notifying me sooner of your injuries. They had failed to inform me on your way back.” he said as he walked around the bed and came to kneel beside you.

“Kylo I really did try. I tried and I remembered everything you had told me to do. I guess I’m just not strong enough, I know I can get better I promise you. I won’t fail again. I’ll train everyday.” You said as tears filled your eyes, all you had wanted to do was impress him but instead you had failed him and ended up in the med bay. 

“You already impress me. The fact that you had wanted to go on a mission and lead it by yourself shows your strength. Things happen and I couldn’t be more proud of you for wanting to become stronger. All I wanted is for you to be okay and you know that I will always help you train. I want you to believe in yourself and know that you are so very strong.” He had said as he leaned forward and rested his head on the bed and held your hand. 

You had just stared at him and your heart swelled with love, this was the soft side of Kylo Ren that the universe didn’t know existed. This version of him was only reserved for you. “Come here Kylo, come lay with me.” you had said. He lifted his head off the hospital bed and looked you in the eyes and smiled. He stood up and rounded the other side of the bed, he sat down and leaned down to take off his boots. 

Once he had removed his boots, he crawled into the bed with you. Him being huge, you ended up laying on him. With your head resting on his chest, you felt him trace the saber wound that was bandaged on your side. You fell asleep to the sound of his beating heart. The heart that was reserved for you.

[drawlfoy]

Wonders of Ohio - P.7

masterlist (catch up with the series here!)

request guidelines (yes i am taking them!)

pairing: draco x reader

request: no! this is my original idea 

summary: american high school senior is in for a surprise when her family takes on a foreign exchange student with a mysterious past.

warnings: teen drinking, mentions of an armed robbery, language, a brief hospital visit, and descriptions of illness

a/n: hey. so. this is definitely where stuff starts to go down. thanks so much for waiting...i have so many more things planned for this series and i’m thrilled to see it come together the way that it is right now. thank you very much for reading and thank you for your patience!

taglist: @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @icintliviinyiniilsiji @erisdogwood @loveissupernatural

word count: 6k

song recs: 

murders - miracle musical

pink in the night - mitski

always, forever - cults

ice dance - ashton gleckman

enjoy!

Y/N should’ve felt cold when she awoke on the wet pavement. Despite a figure looming over her and blocking out most of the rain, the back of her neck and body was drenched in the cool water from the puddle to her right. It was easily in the mid 40s at this point in the evening, something that would ordinarily make her toes curl and her figure tremble, but it felt...different.

She felt like her insides had been scorched, like she’d downed an entire pitcher of boiling hot water. Every movement she made hurt--right down to wiggling her fingertips and her eyes. Her body was exhausted. If she hadn’t known any better, she would’ve thought that she’d just finished running a marathon in hell.

“Can you hear me?” A posh British voice cut through her musings as the figure above her came into focus. 

Draco.

“Yeah. Was there a fire?” Her words left her throat painfully, scratching their way up her vocal chords. 

“Er...what do you remember?”

She squeezed her eyes shut. The memories of the night slowly began trickling back--she’d done Draco’s tie, told him to watch his drink, argued with Chad about how funny he was, and walked to...Oh, yeah. The antique store. The box. The stars inside of her.

She flinched. “I fainted. I’m sorry. That was really stupid of me.”

“What?” Draco shifted back, the light from the front of the antique store catching his face. There were lines in his forehead that she’d never seen before. “Why?”

“I didn’t eat enough today,” said Y/N. Speaking was starting to feel less and less like lighting her trachea on fire. “I was really nervous and I lost my appetite. I’m an easy fainter.”

He cleared his throat. “Er, okay. Yeah. That was it. Anyways, we have to get home. You need to, uh, eat.”

“Okay.”

Y/N allowed herself to be hauled up onto her feet, swaying slightly once her full weight was on her feet. Her sense of gravity felt like it had been loosened. With every step, she felt pulled to the ground from a different part of her core.

“Steady. Don’t fall.” By some miracle, once Draco’s hands were gently guiding her shoulders, she was able to make her way to the backseat of Heather’s car before she collapsed.

“Where are we going?” asked Y/N. Despite no longer feeling like she was near death, her head was still cloudy. 

“Home,” was all Draco said as he slid in on the other side of the car. 

She didn’t bother putting on her seatbelt--she still felt like she was about to keel over--and rested her head on the car window. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Draco open the passenger car door for a moment, pause, shut it, and instead tug open the door across from her and slide in. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“My insides feel like they’re on fire.” Y/N winced as she tried to shift and get the weight off of her neck. “I think I’m sick.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” said Heather from the front, her eyes catching Y/N’s from the mirror. “You were just laying down in the middle of a rainstorm. Go home and take some Zi-cam or something, jesus.”

Y/N tried to chuckle in response, but it came out as a sorry squeak instead. No one made a move to further comment on the evening’s events as Heather pulled onto the freeway and began to gain speed. The sudden lurches and changes of speed in the car set Y/N’s stomach into a churning frenzy, her head growing light again. 

“Draco.”

Her voice was so soft it was hardly audible--the syllables jumbled together on her lips in a quiet mess--but he immediately snapped to attention.

“What is it?”

She took a deep breath. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“For the love of god, at least try and hold it until we get off the freeway.” 

“Shut up, Heather,” said Draco. Y/N couldn’t help but feel the slightest twinge of satisfaction as he rolled his eyes and turned his attention back on her. “Is it the motion? Are you sick from that?”

“I don’t know,” she managed. 

He sighed. “Helpful.”

“Dick.”

Draco frowned at her, but she could see the slightest twinkle of amusement in his eye. “Can you move into the middle seat for me? Do you need help?”

Once Y/N had scooted over from her side, he leaned away from her and pointed up to the sunroof above them. “Go ahead and count all the lights that you can see in the sky. I promise it’ll make you feel better. Just keep your head pointed up.”

She tilted her head back. The night sky was largely gloomy, but the flickering lights of the planes that dove in and out of clouds provided some glowing dots. As she counted, Heather hit the fog strips and nearly threw her back into her original seat. She felt a warm hand wrap around her wrist and gently grip, the long fingers completely encircling it. 

Y/N blinked. The nausea was gone. “What are you, a sorcerer or something?” she joked, not expecting to see Draco so frozen at the comment. “Kidding. I just feel better already. Thank you.”

He nodded and turned away to look out the window. His soft grip on her hand was long gone, and Y/N took Heather’s slightly uncoordinated driving as a cue to slide back into her seat and buckle up.

“If you really need to puke,” said Heather, “I have a Target bag back somewhere under the passenger seat. Please avoid the seats. They’re authentic vegan leather.”

“I don’t think that’s a thing.”

“Just don’t throw up, okay?” 

~

Y/N was in Art History when it happened. The chills began, so intense and teeth-chattering that her teacher took one look at her and sent her immediately to the nurse. Sylvia offered to walk her, but she was only allowed to under the condition that she avoid all physical contact with her and sanitized each surface that Y/N touched. It was a wonder she made it to the first floor office--each step felt heavier than the last, and from the beginning she felt moments from simply passing out. 

A temperature check revealed that she had a mild fever--100.3 F, to be exact--and a call home resulted in her mother’s full voicemail box and the remembrance that her parents were out for the week. 

“Can someone else drive you?” Nurse Hazelwood asked as she stepped away to douse her hands in hand sanitizer. “I don’t think you should get yourself home in this state.”

After some deliberation, it was decided that Sylvia would take her home and call someone for a ride back. It was a bit overkill--but she didn’t know what else to do.

“And can you make sure Draco has a ride home today?” Y/N asked as they pulled into the driveway of the Y/L/N home. 

“Stop stressing so much, dude.” Sylvia took the keys out of the ignition to give her an expectant look. “You’re sick. Go inside and make some soup or something. I’m sure your boyfriend will figure it out.”

“Now I really am gonna be sick,” said Y/N as she rolled her eyes. 

The rest of her afternoon was a blur. Y/N tried to force down some chicken soup, but it took all her might to keep it from coming right back up. It was safe to say her appetite was gone. 

After a failed attempt at walking up the stairs to crawl into bed, she collapsed onto the couch. The last thing she remembered was the sound of footsteps outside the front door.

~

Y/N hadn’t been to the hospital since she had to get stitches in middle school. Then, all she did was lie back in the chair and try to shut her eyes as the needle wove in and out of her torn thigh (bad bike accident, in case anyone was curious). But now was different. 

Her eyes hurt to open, like someone had thrown soap in them and the very line where her two lids met were lined with knives. Everything inside of her was on fire--a manic, all-consuming fire that made it impossible for her to keep anything down. 

The nurses and doctors were no help--not like Y/N actually had her eyes long enough to see any of them--but their voices were enough to let her know what was going on.

“Fever of 104--”

“Can’t keep anything down--”

“Severely dehydrated--”

“Tested negative for everything we tried--”

“Never seen anything like this before--”

“No viruses were detected--”

“Not mono--”

As she wove in and out of consciousness, one fact stuck in her mind: I think I might die here. Something is very wrong.

 When she did dream, images of the box she picked up plagued her mind. The symbol, etched lightly into the black top, glowed menacingly in her hands. Open it, open it something around her urged, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t.

It was during one of these dreams that her world suddenly shifted back to her hospital room. She was suspended above her body, looking down at the tangle of IVs and various other wires that imprisoned her...but she wasn’t alone.

The dim lighting and darkness outside confirmed her suspicion that it was indeed late at night. A figure, tall and slim, was sitting to her left. It was whispering something unintelligible as it gently took her hand and squeezed.

If Y/N could scream, she would’ve. The sudden pull back to her body was so strong that she was yanked across the room so she just barely hovered over her corporeal form. She could feel a grip, steady and firm, wrapped around her hand as a rush of cool ran through her. Each breath, each pulse, each heartbeat pulled her back to herself. It felt like a bucket of water had been poured over--into--her, extinguishing the flames that were eating away the inside of her.  

The figure’s whispering finally came to an end as she settled back into her physical body. Before she drifted off to a peaceful slumber, a familiar voice rose above the quiet whispers.

“I’m sorry.”

~

“Y/N!”

Her eyes shot open to see her mother, heavy eye bags and all, standing over her bed. “Hi Mo-”

“You scared me half to death!” Mrs. Y/L/N interrupted, placing her hand on her forehead. “No fever. Thank god. You know, when you were a baby, you were horribly ill with…”

Y/N sat and pretended she was listening as she relinquished in the fact that she was awake, she was here. The fire inside of her was long gone, replaced with the familiar...whatever was there before. Nothing? Maybe. Nothing was good, or at least better than the painful fire. It struck her with a sudden urgency that she had no idea what day it was, much less time. What about her homework? What about her UChicago application? Her counselor was supposed to submit her letter of rec a week ago...or a week ago from whenever she was brought to the hospital.

“Honey, are you even listening?” 

“Uh, yeah,” she said. 

“That’s what I thought. The food here is horrendous--of course you’re excited to go home.” Mrs. Y/L/N took her glasses off to wipe at the lens in a gesture that seemed more habitual and less effective. “You poor thing. Your father is still in New York--John simply couldn’t have him leave--but he’ll be back as soon as he can. Let’s get you out of here.”

The next few hours were a strange blur of paperwork, changes of clothes, and a bag of medication. The nurses and doctors were bewildered at her miraculous recovery and expressed this at every chance they had on her way out, reminding her to immediately seek attention if she feels anything similar again.

“What day is it?” Y/N finally asked once they were on the way home. 

“Wow, you really were out of it.” Mrs. Y/L/N flicked her blinker on as she merged onto the freeway. “Sunday. You were there almost a whole week.”

“Huh? What about school? Do my teachers know? How did Draco get to school? Is he ok?”

“Of course your teachers know, hun. They’re all being very forgiving with their late work policies. As long as you’re putting effort into learning the material you missed, they have no problem letting you skip out on the homework. As for Draco...I think he’s fine. Sylvia’s family took him under their wing for the week. He’s still alive.”

And such a statement was proven when Y/N walked through the front door. Draco shot up from his seat at the living room couch the moment they locked eyes, his hands wringing back and forth.

“You’re okay.”

“You’re okay too,” she responded airily. “When I wasn’t dying I was worrying myself about how you’d do without me. I see my fears of you walking into moving traffic didn’t come true, thank God.”

His lips, tight, offered her the slightest upturn. 

“Y/N, dearie, no need to harass the boy,” her mother said. “Up to your room. I’ll bring you some soup in a moment. You need to rest, young lady.”

She sent one last teasing grin at Draco before she was ushered up the steps, her mother fussing over her the entire way. 

~

“So,” Sylvia said, crossing her legs over the other and giving Y/N a wicked look, “Consider this your last formal invitation to my Halloween party. It’s this Friday. It’s not even the night before the ED deadline. You should go.”

“I don’t know, Vy,” said Y/N. Her art history notes lay untouched in front of her as the teacher droned on about something related to how mannerism as an art style came to fame during the...Reformation? She didn’t know. “I’m kind of tired. I feel bad about leaving Draco alone, too.”

“Dude.”

“What?”

Sylvia rolled her eyes. “Will you just do us all a favor and admit that you like him? It’s getting exhausting. Just ask him to come with you.”

“You’re absolutely off your rocker if you think I’m gonna do that,” Y/N said. 

“I’m just saying, you’ve done weirder things. Like almost dying from...literally nothing.”

“Hey, hey, don’t be rude. I’ll think about it but no guarantees. I don’t really think Draco is the partying type, though.”

“I’d be careful about making such a wild assumption. You never know what goes on in those posh private British schools for rich kids or wherever he went.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Her friend laughed. “No. Just an optimist.”

Y/N swung the sleeve of her cardigan at her, whacking her pretty good on the bicep. If Sylvia was bothered by it, she didn’t show it. “Fine. I’ll ask him as a friend.”

“Pansy.”

~

Y/N was never the type to enjoy background noise as she worked, but there was something nostalgic about hearing the identical voices of her local news anchors in the room over as she sat at the kitchen table and worked on a last minute Physics review set. 

“Hey loser,” she called out as she saw a head of blond hair pass by her to get to the kettle. “Care to join me?” 

Draco turned, his mouth open and ready to issue a retort before he appeared to change his mind. He’d been oddly distant lately, avoiding her in the common spaces they often saw each other and choosing to get breakfast and his evening tea at times that he knew she wouldn’t be down in the kitchen for. Perhaps that was the reason why she was sitting at the kitchen table at present, but of course she’d never admit that. Not even to herself. 

“Can’t. I’m a bit busy with work.”

“Draco,” she chided. “What work is it? I can help you, you know.” 

He paused for a few seconds, taking in the scatter of papers on the table and the nearly complete review sheet. “The Physics review is taking me a bit of time,” he said, his tone forced and resigned.

“Go grab it!” She grinned as his scowl deepened. “If you’re nice I’ll let you copy.”

She lost track of time as they went over his work, his pencil marks filling the page with symbols that were unfamiliar to her.

“Your handwriting is really nice,” she noted. “Like, so nice that I feel like you could really make it as a study youtuber or a study blogger or whatever. You have that potential if you want to tap into it, dude.”

“I have no idea what that is,” he said neatly as he punched an equation into her calculator. 

“Fair.”

She sat still for a few more moments, watching as her study partner’s chest rose and fell with each breath he took. Sylvia’s Halloween party was just a few days away, and she needed to ask him at some point. Every time she mustered up the courage to open her mouth and hitch her breath, the words would die on her tongue. 

The silence weighed heavy in the air as the words of the news anchors floated over…”multiple reports of an armed robbery….suburbs surrounding Cincinnati...cautioned to lock doors...potential link to the missing persons case…”

“Draco,” she said finally. He jolted up from his work to gaze at her. His eyes were probably the prettiest things she’d ever seen--all pale and metallic and silvery. “Uh, I’m going to this Halloween party this Friday. You should come with me, it sounds like it’ll be fun. I think that Heather will be there.”

Y/N mentally groaned at her admission to Heather’s attendance but didn’t know what else to say. She wanted him to come--even if it was so he could spend the whole time being woo-ed over by her.

“Er,” he began, twirling his pencil around his fingers. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Homework, you know.”

“Just finish it before--That’s what I’m doing.”

“I think I’m go--”

The slam of the front door made both of them jump, scattering Y/N’s long forgotten work and threatening to knock Draco’s mug over.

“Hi kids,” Mrs. Y/L/N greeted as she entered the kitchen, an armful of grocery bags in tow. “Studying?” 

“Yeah,” Y/N answered. “By the way, Mom, Sylvia invited me over to her house on Friday for a sort of Halloween get together. Can I go?”

Her mother was silent for a few moments as she methodically unpacked the paper bags on the counter. 

“I don’t see why not. Is Draco coming too?”

“No,” he replied before Y/N even had the chance to open her mouth.

“I don’t think you should be home alone at night, my dear,” said her mother. “Have you seen the news? There’s someone on the loose. I’d feel much better if you were with Y/N--Robert and I are going to an auction that night. We won’t be around.”

“I’ll be fi--”

“If Y/N is going, you’re going,” Mrs. Y/L/N said as she finished unloading and brushed her hands off on her thighs. Her no nonsense demeanor rarely showed itself, but when it did, she was difficult to argue with. 

Y/N shrunk down in her seat as Draco sent her a sour look. 

Sorry she mouthed. If he noticed, he didn’t show it.

~ 

“Remind me again why we’re walking?” 

Draco’s snotty tone carried through the crisp fall air as they neared the street that Sylvia lived on. 

“Because,” said Y/N, “Quite frankly, I don’t think I can get through being in an enclosed space with Heather for an entire night without being at least a little buzzed. And I’m not gonna have you drive us home.”

“Hmph.” His dress shoes, odd pointed tips and all, kicked at the fall leaves below them. His costume was literally nothing different than what he wore when he arrived--a crisp white dress shirt, an oddly cut blazer, and a weird looking green and silver pin attached to his lapel. 

“If anyone asks,” she had told him from the hallway as they were getting ready to go that afternoon, “Just say you’re a corporate rat or something.” 

He’d snorted at her choice of clothing--a completely dark brown set up with a picture of a shoe taped to her chest. 

“I’m the shoe that that Iraqi reporter threw at Bush,” she had explained. 

He just stared.

“If you aren’t having fun, please just let me know,” Y/N said as they turned one of the last corners. “We can tell her our fish died or something. Sylvia would totally understand.”

“We don’t have a fish.”

“I know, genius,” she teased, giving him a little punch. Instead of balking, he just crinkled his nose. “But she doesn’t.”

“I think she does.”

“You’re missing the point. You’ll tell me if you want to go back home, promise?”

“I want to go home.”

“You’re going to be the death of me.” 

He grinned as they waited for Sylvia to open the door. 

The next few hours were a bit of a blur. Y/N didn’t drink much at first--maybe the equivalent of 2 or 3 shots, spaced out in between a couple of sips of water--but the energy in Sylvia’s home definitely had her more buzzed than usual. There was something about her home that always felt twice as spooky, a type of underlying energy that pulsed at the seams. 

To her surprise, Draco actually took a cup of whatever Sylvia offered him and downed it. She laughed when she saw him finally lower the cup as he furrowed his brow at her.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

His features looked softer in the dim lighting of Sylvia’s living room--all the tension that he carried in his shoulders and face seemed to be gone. When he smiled at her, it was all she could do to keep herself from disintegrating into the couch.

As the night wore on, Y/N felt herself getting progressively more tipsy, and, in her haze, she could see that Draco was going down a similar path. He was touchier than she would have expected--hanging onto her elbow or sleeve whenever Sylvia or Y/N said anything funny, not moving his leg when her thigh was pressed against his, stretching his arm out behind her and resting it on the back of the couch--and she found herself wishing she was sober enough for it to feel real. Maybe she was so drunk that she was imagining it all. Maybe she was actually asleep next to her toilet at home after throwing it all up and was just dreaming. 

“Fuck!” Someone exclaimed, prompting her to look up. Abby, a girl she kind of knew from her grade, had spilled the entirety of her drink on the coffee table.

“Y/N,” Sylvia whined, “I’m too tired to get the paper towels. Will you and Draco go?” 

Despite the half-hearted protests from Draco, she managed to haul him up by his arm as she pushed back the pleasure that Sylvia saw them as a sort of team, a sort of unit.

“I think she keeps the extra paper towels in her pantry,” she told him as they made their way over to the quiet part of the house. The light hanging over the kitchen island was on, but the rest of the room was bathed in darkness. 

“Right he--”

Y/N froze as she saw it--or, as she would come to discover, them. 

Heather and Chad stared back at them, looking much more disheveled than one is permitted simply sitting on the kitchen counter. It was hard to make it out clearly, but Heather’s cheeks looked flushed. Chad’s matched.

“In a fucking kitchen? Chad, I thought you were better than this,” Y/N said, turning and grabbing the paper towels from the cabinet behind them. “Get a room, you weirdos.”

Chad laughed, a short lived and awkward sound. 

Once they were back out in the living room, Y/N tossed the paper towels to Sylvia. “I think we’re gonna head back. We have to walk, you know.”

Sylvia dramatically threw herself back onto the couch. “I suppose. Thanks for coming guys, it was nice to see you outside of class again.”

“Likewise!” Y/N called over her shoulder as she walked out of the door with Draco by her side.

The walk home was silent for the first few moments. Despite the fact that it was late October, the night was pleasantly crisp and not too cold. The only sources of illumination were the scattered street lights, casting a soft orange hue on the two.

As they turn the corner onto the main street, Y/N’s shoe caught on a crack in the pavement in a movement that would’ve sent her sprawling face-first into the cold concrete if it hadn’t been for Draco’s hand grabbing her own and yanking her back up.

“Thanks,” she said. His hands were warmer than usual despite the coolness of the air.

He just sent her a small smile as he untangled their fingers and placed his hand back into his pants pockets.

“Weird to see Chad and Heather, right?” Y/N nudged him with her shoulder. To her surprise, he nudged back.

“I guess. I thought it was obvious, though.”

“What?! No way.”

“Are you blind? Heather’s been all over Chad,” he said.

“Are you? I thought she was obsessed with you!” 

“No, definitely not.”

“Are you sure about that?” she asked, turning to look at him. The dim glow of the streetlights made his hair look almost like a halo. “She wouldn’t leave you alone.”

“Dunno.” Draco shrugged. It was then that Y/N remembered how much he’d had that night.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re probably not in the right mindset to be analyzing other people right now,” said Y/N. 

His lips twitched upwards. “No, no, it’s ok. I’m fine. I just couldn’t be bothered over the whole ordeal. Entirely uninspiring, I think.”

“You’re such a nerd, even when you’re drunk,” teased Y/N. “It’s honestly a wonder that you spent the first month near failing physics.”

“Sod off.” He nudged her again, hard enough to make her sway. “You’re the one who’s still an insufferable smartass. I figured drinking would make you more tolerable.”

“Don’t be a dick,” she muttered as she shoved him back. “You know you love me.”

He froze in the middle of his retaliatory shove, his hand rested on her forearm.

“Sarcasm, king,” said Y/N. “I don’t mean it. I wouldn’t blame you if I were right, though. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m quite the commodity.” 

“Oh, yes, most certainly.” His tone was dripping in faux genuity as he gave her a gentle push. 

As he was doing this, Y/N grabbed the offending arm and took him down with her, landing in the soft garden bush in poor Ms. McCoyle’s front yard.

“Gotcha!” she cheered as he frowned from his spot on top of her. It took all her might to ignore the fact that his face was inches away. “It’s just my smart physics brain at work.”

 “Your neighbor is gonna kill us.”

“She can try.” 

Draco sat up, grabbing her hand and hauling her to her feet. She took the opportunity to hang onto the sleeve of his coat as a sneaking suspicion overtook her that things wouldn’t be like this again without the clever excuse of intoxication. 

“What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

Y/N let go of his sleeve to look up at his face in confusion. She followed his eyes, suddenly hardened with an emotion she couldn’t quite place, to their house at the end of the street.

“You shut the door behind us, right?” Draco asked.

“And locked it.”

Their front door, hanging wide open and swinging in the breeze, told a different story.

~ 

Sobering up was easy once the police sirens showed up and searched their house. Y/N could tell the responding sheriff knew they’d been drinking, but since they weren’t driving and were speaking clearly, he didn’t mention anything.

“We’ve searched the house,” he told them as they sat together outside on the curb. “It looks like it fits the profile of the other armed burglaries in the area, but nothing was taken this time. The bedroom that looks out into the garden is completely trashed--it seems like the suspect was looking through your things for something. The bedroom across the hall was displaced a bit, but nothing compared to the first.” He took another look at his notes, adjusting the thick rimmed glasses that were perched on his nose. “You kids are lucky. Whoever this is means business. There’s unfortunately not much we can do except set up a patrol to watch over the street for now. Please give us a call if you see anything or hear anything.”

They nodded. Y/N had placed a call to their parents while they waited a safe distance from the home for the police to arrive. She’d been shaking as she pressed their number into her phone, and Draco, to his credit, rested his hand on her thigh.

“We’ll be fine,” he’d said before retracting it. “Don’t worry.”

Draco seemed considerably calm for someone experiencing a home break in in a foreign country as they made their way into the house. The first responders had left the lights on, and the wash of LED bulbs did nothing to hide the disturbance of her bedroom. Everything of hers was thrown into the middle of the room from her drawers, closet, and dresser. Her laptop, open and plugged in, was left completely untouched.

“Draco,” she said, “Can I ask you something?”

“Depends, what is it?” 

Y/N noted that he was getting considerably paler as they stood in her doorway. “I don’t think I can sleep here. Knowing what happened. Especially when it’s still a disaster.”

“Understandable.”

His features looked hardened again, like he’d gone through a filter of seriousness. She decided that this was probably her last chance to ask for any act of intimacy before the effects of alcohol dissipated in his system. “And I don’t want to sleep alone.”

“Er...Oh.” He stared at her. “What?”

“I know that this is really awkward, but can I, like, sleep on your floor or something? Just for tonight.” When she swallowed her throat felt painfully dry. “I don’t snore or anything. It’ll be like I’m not even there.”

Draco sucked in a long breath, casting his eyes up to the ceiling. Y/N wished she knew what he was thinking about. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

“Thank you thank you thank you,” she sang, darting into her room to grab a blanket and a pillow as he watched wordlessly by the doorframe.

The walk to his room was dead silent except for their sounds of shock when they saw the broken glass in the middle of the floor. 

“I think that was from the picture frame,” Y/N said as she carefully walked into the middle of the room. Sure enough, a framed photo of her and their late dog that had been left on the wall was face down on the carpet. 

“Is this when you ask me to sleep in my bed, too?” quipped Draco as he sidestepped the wreckage and sat on the opposite side of the queen mattress.

“Um...we can make a pillow barrier so we don’t touch.”

He rolled his eyes and tossed his blazer over his chair as he took off his shoes and buttonup, leaving nothing but his undershirt and dress pants. “I’m going to get changed. If you’re asleep before I get back, this is me saying goodnight.”

With that, he grabbed something from his dresser and walked into his bathroom, Y/N ripped off the picture of the shoe and placed her phone on the bedside table. Before she knew it, she was completely passed out.

~ 

It was barely dawn when she next woke up. Her head was heavy--no doubt the beginnings of a hangover--but she’d never felt more electrified.

A small huff prompted her to look to her left where Draco was just a few movements away from her. He was very clearly still sleeping, each breath leaving his lips with a whisper. His hand, draped over the covers, was millimeters away from touching her. The pink of the sunrise made his hair, now ruffled and sticking up in the side, glitter in the light. She resisted the urge to reach out and brush it away from his face.

Y/N lay there, admiring the boy sleeping next to her, until the urgency of her situation struck her. She was absolutely parched, and if she wanted to mitigate the damage she’d already done, it was in her best interest to drink a glass of water and take 4 Ibuprofen. 

With a sigh, she quietly slid out from under Draco’s covers and made her way to her room, careful to avoid the glass scattered all about. She knew she had a packet of Ibuprofen somewhere in one of her dresser drawers.

The pile in her room was bigger than she remembered. She began by just throwing her clothes that had been on the ground onto her bed, sorting through everything in rough categories. When this proved unhelpful, she turned to the mini pile by her door which, to her surprise, had a few sweatshirts that definitely weren’t hers.

Draco she thought absentmindedly as she combed through the pile. Aha. A small green pouch, just like the one she kept her over the counter medications in.

Her hands struggled to undo the tie--Did she normally knot it like that?--as she admired the lining. She never noticed that the edges had silver thread stitched in. 

Once she finally opened it up, she grabbed her water bottle and prepared to be faced with a variety of pill bottles as she tipped it over; however, what came out was very different.

A collection of letters. Namely, Draco’s. She knew it was wrong, but he was sleeping, and every letter looked official, stamped with a seal and etched with some sort of crest. They couldn’t have been that personal.

After a bit of bargaining, she decided to open one. If it was personal, she made the deal with herself to put it away and never speak of it again. 

The parchment was heavy and clearly expensive. Her hands were shaking as she unfolded the first one, feeling guilty the whole way.

Foreign words flooded her vision. It wasn’t like the letter was written in a foreign language--but there were so many terms she didn’t understand. 

Death eater...Voldemort...Crimes against the ministry...Conspiracy against Dumbledore...Hogwarts-sanctioned punishment...

She read on until a word popped out that made sense--Magic. And there it was again--Magic. Wizard. Magic.

Swallowing hard, she shoved the letter back into the envelope and opened one more. This one was much more coherent.

“Dear Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy:

       It has been made apparent to us that, while serving the punishment of your accused crimes, you have unlawfully used magic (namely, a Glamour spell) in front of a muggle. Consider this to be your first strong warning. One more slip up and the Ministry will be forced to reconsider your dropped sentence of Azkaban.

Sincerely and warmly,

The Ministry of Magic -- Justice Sector”

What. What the fuck. What the fuck.

Her racing mind was put to a screeching halt at the sound of someone clearing their throat behind her. 

[jimlingss]

Arcadia

➜ Words: 9.6k

➜ Genres: 50% Fluff, 50% Angst, Dystopia!AU, Utopia!AU

➜ Summary: In a new era, the human race has largely been eradicated through warfare and disease. You are one of the few left, living in the forest and making use of the wild. Or at least that's what you think until a man quite literally crashes into your home.

cr.

It happened in the afternoon.   A deafening noise from the sky. A thin whistle that crescendoed. Louder than what you’re used to hearing. Ringing in your eardrums. It shrieked horrifically — rumbling the ground — roaring through the silent forest. And you looked up to see a streak of white in the sky. Immediately, you dropped the animal in hand, abandoned the trap at your feet and ducked your head.   But the explosions never came raining down on your skull.   Instead, it happened in the distance. An explosion that made the evening sky spark bright white.    It took a full minute for it to die down, for the smoke to fade into the horizon as if nothing occurred a moment ago. Yet, you stalked the fumes and commotion, crept in the shadows. You knew better than to approach foreign things, to approach clamor and potential danger.   But the forest had been quiet for so long that it provoked your curiosity.    What you found past the shrubbery and trunks of spruce is a giant white cylinder with rounded edges. A capsule. So white that it burnt to the back of your eyelids, in no way natural whatsoever. But the colour had been marred by dirt and foliage after it crash-landed. The mud and ground hugged it, molded against the shape after it quite literally smashed into the Earth.   Before you could approach the thing and investigate, there was another noise. An unfamiliar whirring. It made you flinch and stumble back, taking refuge behind the trees.   But as you peeked out, you saw something crawling out of the open compartment. A groan.    Someone.   You hadn’t seen another person in years.   Immediately, you stepped forward and he saw you. Eyes darting to look into yours.   He was in stark white clothing from top to bottom, pants that stopped too short at his ankles, a shirt that was cut awkwardly and too small for his broad shoulders. It was vivid against his dark hair and golden skin, almost made him look ridiculous. But you supposed at the time you didn’t look any better — ripped jeans, dirtied boots, a worn jacket taken years ago from some loot and your hair tucked into a baseball cap with a logo too faded away to discern.   “I-I won’t hurt you,” he stutters out, putting up his hands. “I...I’m Seokjin. I’m part of the rescue fleet of Arcadia.”   Arcadia?   The man, Seokjin, sighs after your ongoing silence. “Sorry. Of course you wouldn’t understand me. I,” he enunciates slowly and points to himself. “Am. Friend.” His hands wildly form a heart for you to see and then he points at you with his left while still making wild gestures with his right. He tries to smile brightly. “I. Help. You—”   “I understand you,” you deadpan with an impassive expression.   The man is visibly taken aback, eyes rounded as his mouth opens and closes comically. “Y-You can speak?”   Your arm lifts and your index finger points at his head. “You’re bleeding.”   ... .. .   He looks around the interior of the tree house like a lost child, seated on the floor and waiting for his parents to return. It’s a meager shack made of alder, large gaps for windows, tattered backpacks stained and collected in the corner by some pairs of shoes and an old radio. There’s a fishing line hung diagonally across the room and above his head, used to dry clothing. But he finds himself drawn to the radio and crawls over to try to switch it on, tugging on its antenna, turning the dials.   Yet, all that answers is noisy static.   “It’s been broken since a long time ago,” you pipe up, nearly startling him to death with your sudden presence. But you had simply climbed up the ladder quietly. “I’m still tinkering with it.”   Seokjin sets the radio down. “I have a device similar to it. Thought this one would work.” He pulls out a black and thick rectangular piece of plastic from his back pocket and you scarcely recognize it.   “A walkie-talkie?”   “Kind of. It’s called an Erewhon device. State of the art technology, even if it looks chunky. It transmits radio waves without any limit of range and it syncs to one other device. No third can ever join or hack into it. I use this one to communicate with my base. Or at least I usually would, if the thing didn’t break in the crash.”   You don’t understand anything he’s saying, so you chalk it up to gibberish.   “It stings.” Seokjin sharply inhales as you apply pressure to his wound. But the ache soon alleviates when you wrap bandages around his head. “What’s your name?”   It’s your last roll of bandages.    “Y/N.”   It’s not like you to be so generous or welcoming towards a stranger. The nature of your upbringing and life has ingrained an innate suspicion to anyone who isn’t yourself. But there’s a characteristic about the man in front of you that doesn’t make you doubt his intentions.   It must also be partly because you’ve been on your own for so long and your inner subconscious is willing to dance with danger if it means having some kind of contact with another. But whatever the case may be, you don’t feel wary of Seokjin even if you should.   “Are...there any others?”   “Other humans? There hasn’t been any for years.”   “There’s….just you?”   “Just me.” Until now. “Where did you come from?”   “I come from a place called Arcadia. It’s a utopian society just off the Zion mountain and Elysian Fields,” he says as if you know what those places are. “It has everything and it’s where the remaining people have gathered for years. I actually rescue people like you who are still alive and bring them back. How...how did you manage to survive on your own out here?”    “I just do.”    “How long have you been here?”   “I don’t remember. The apocalypse happened when I was young.”   Seokjin makes a noise of acknowledgment like he understands. “It happened when I was seven.”   “I remember celebrating my fifth birthday in an underground bunker with my parents.”   He doesn’t ask where they are. If they aren’t with you now, it’s safe to assume your parents are dead like his are.    “I had a lot of people help me along the way, a lot of people who died,” you say, “I’ve been in sanctuaries and communities until they fell. Everything was only temporary. So, I’ve been on my own for a while.”   “Arcadia is different,” he says with bright eyes, breathy voice full of wonder and hope. “It’s where the new world is beginning. I can take you there.”   “Isn’t your flying machine broken?”   “You mean my Xanadu Shuttle?” Seokjin scratches the back of his neck and chuckles. You notice how the tips of his ears turn scarlet. “Actually, it was my first time taking it out that far. I’m kind of new to all this. But don’t worry! When it crashed, it sent a notification to headquarters and gave coordinates, so they should find me soon. I’ll try to fix my Erewhon device too.”   You don’t pretend like you know the things he’s referring to. “Are you hungry?”   “I have dried pemmican!” He lights up as if remembering and pulls a transparent wrapped bar from his back pocket. You wonder what else is in those endless pockets of his.    Seokjin must read the puzzled expression on his face since his smile widens. “Want to try it?”   “Sure.” You rip open the wrapper and you’re met with a dark red and gray block, and a meaty scent that makes you slightly nauseous. But you’ve eaten worse before, so you take a bite.   Seokjin instantly laughs when your expression wrinkles up. “It tastes better the more you eat it. Promise.”   “It’s awful.” There’s a temptation to spit it out the window, but afraid that it might be considered rude, you swallow it down and quickly hand back the monstrosity to him. “Do you want rabbit?”   “Sure.”   … .. .   It’s odd to eat a meal with someone — an experience that you’re unable to pinpoint your last memory of. It’s rather mundane, but mundanity has long been a privilege in this era.   “You can sleep in the tree house if you want.”   “Where will you be?”   “I usually like to sleep on the forest floor anyway.” It isn’t a lie. One of the few things you love is drifting off while gazing at the stars, that the last thing you see is the sparkling horizon before it’s blue again when you awake. “How many people are there in Arcadia?”   “About twenty five hundred people so far.”   So far. But if what he tells you is true, then it’s a big settlement.   As if able to see how he’s piqued your curiosity, Seokjin continues, “It’s an amazing place and we’re completely self-sufficient. There’s an agriculture industry that’s growing and greenhouses underground that gives us all the food we need. They developed a water filtration system as well and it’s connected to the mountain springs nearby. There are pods that people live in, schools that kids can go to, jobs, medicine— you’ll see when I take you back.”   “I never said I was going with you.”   “What? Why wouldn’t you?”   You don’t answer.   �� .. .   “Morning.” You watch as he climbs down the ladder and nearly slips off. It’s an amusing sight to see his hair in a disarray and his eyes swollen beyond recognition. “Glad to see you’re finally up.”   Seokjin, on the other hand, is baffled at how you’re already moving so energetically. “When….did you get up?”   “Since sunrise. Changed your bandages too, if you didn’t already notice. I’m getting breakfast prepared. There’s a stream down this path that you can wash your face in. Collect water for me while you’re at it.”   You hand him a silver pail.   Walking off, Seokjin finally gets a good look at the forest. It’s quiet, save for the chickadees he notices in the thin branches of the spruce, twiddling as he passes and the woodpeckers hammering against the alder. There was just enough rays of light bursting through to allow the saplings to flourish and shrubs to overgrow. And the verdant green almost blinds his vision with how vivid it is. He’s never been so surrounded in nature before — never has it encapsulated him completely.   When Seokjin returns, he’s more alert than before.   “Thought you got lost for a second. You can set the water over there. Do you want to help me look at my traps?”   He follows you and nearly steps into a trap before you yell at him. But he’s amazed. You’ve designated a whole section full of traps made of loose string and branches, and when he asks, he learns they’re treadle snares to drowning snares.   “They don’t yield a lot of food. It depends on the season, but it mainly depends on luck.”    “What do you usually eat then?”   “I have some canned stuff from the cities, but there’s a lot of berries and herbs around here that are edible. I’m in the process of growing some basil and tomatoes too, so I never really starve out here.”   Seokjin is astounded. You can see it on his face, but you don’t know why that is. It’s not like any of these things are impressive. It’s just things you learn once you’ve lived out here long enough.   “You’re making a fire now?”   He watches as you take out a curved piece of wood with string attached and another piece that’s pointed at the end. You saw it back and forth on some more wood and Seokjin watches the smoke, how the friction creates the heat, how you transfer the embers to tinder.   “Is this how you always make fire?”   “Nowadays. At the beginning when I still had materials, I would use batteries and steel wool. Even flint and steel. But the bow drill method works fine. I save my matches for when I need them.”   “That’s incredible. Is this what you do? I mean, collect food and make fires.”   “I guess.”   “Do you do anything else? Do you ever get bored?”   It’s an interesting question — boredom. A privilege in itself to be bored rather than worried. Though you suppose that in this quiet forest with no one else, it’s a wonder how you never went insane. But while loneliness sporadically plagues you, you’ve never necessarily felt isolated or deprived. It’s always been this way. You’ve learnt to adapt to it. Humans can handle more than they think when push comes to shove.    “There’s always something to do. Whether that’s upkeeping the tree house or making more traps or planting. But sometimes in the summer, I go exploring for a few days. Into the cities. There’re lots of places I haven’t been. It’s a good opportunity for me to get seeds, food, and clothes, so I’m never….bored.”   “Wow, t-that’s...that’s impressive.”   “There’s nothing impressive. It’s just the way things are.”   “I...went to Arcadia in its early days,” Seokjin explains, “It was established twenty years ago, right after the apocalypse began, so I’ve never really got to see the outside world.”   “They don’t let you leave?”   “It’s not that. It just isn’t safe to. Actually, that’s why I wanted to join the rescue fleet. It gives me a chance to see the outside world.”   “You haven’t even seen anything yet. If you want….I can take you somewhere. Better than this.”   “Really?!” Seokjin’s eyes widen, irises practically glistening.   Your lips tickle, threatening to upturn. “Sure.”   … .. .   Past the stream and thicket is a clearing. A meadow of daisies. It’s overgrown grass that reaches to your knees, white petals spilling over with yellow centers filled among them. The sound of insects buzzing and circling through the field is heard as the sun beats down. You found this place a good year ago and while it doesn’t serve much of a purpose, you left it undisturbed.    The apocalypse was a catastrophe, but it did a lot for nature.   “This….this….” Seokjin is breathless, unable to force a coherent word out. He looks over at the blue horizon that seems to steal the land as the abundance of flowers overwhelms his senses.    “It’s beautiful, huh?”   He stays silent, taking in the sight in front of him. He has seen a vase of flowers at best — most certainly not a boundless field of them. Not like this. Not in the entirety of his life so far. Not in a way where he could inhale the fresh air, count clouds, memorize the azure shade of the sky, and not where he is unable to see where the end or the start is.   Seokjin is overwhelmed, and he realizes why the choice to stay remains. Why you would refuse his offer of coming back with him to Arcadia. A part of him also wants to stay here. Where freedom lies.   “I’m sorry,” he murmurs while still taking in the sight. The colours are so rich that he feels regretful he couldn’t see it sooner. “I didn’t mean to push you to come with me.”   “It’s okay. I’ll come with you.”   Seokjin finally peels his eyes away from the scenery to gaze at you.    Yet you continue to look forward. “You made me curious about this Arcadia.”   And the corner of his mouth turns into a smile.   … .. .   The next few days are spent with Seokjin — noisy at your side, but it’s entirely invited.   He goes back to his vehicle, his so-called fancy Xanadu Shuttle, and tries to contact his people. Much like your radio, there’s only static on the other end when he flips and fiddles with switches and the lights eventually die off. He messes with his Erewhon too, the little walkie-talkie device, though it’s to no avail. But Seokjin never becomes discouraged. He remains optimistic, a rarity in today’s climate. The man has no doubts they’ll come for him and even reassures you.   In the meanwhile, you show him how to start a fire, how to collect berries and certain plants, and he helps you sharpen the knives you have. But the man looks away when you have to kill the animal you trapped and he makes you kill the bugs that land on him as well. It’s a bit ridiculous and outlandish, but frighteningly natural how quickly he falls into place and adapts.   You forgot what it was like to have someone with you. To be able to talk to someone.   … .. .   “Are you ever lonely?”   Seokjin asks one night when he’s laid on the grass, arms tucked underneath his head and staring up at the stars by your side. He copied you after several occasions where he found you like that. You immediately heard the gasp that left his mouth the first time he laid down. It’s beautiful enough that he’s unconcerned with insects and doesn’t get up until you chide him to.   “Sometimes. Then I think about how people are more trouble than they’re worth.”   He grins. “Why do you say that?”   “People mess up things and always have their self-interest at heart. Learned it after I had a gun pointed on me by someone I thought was a friend.”   “I’m sorry.”   “It’s alright. Just the way things are. Anything to survive, right?”   “Is that why you’re on your own?”   “Partly. It’s hard when people die too. I’d rather not deal with that.”   “Why’d you agree to help me then?” Seokjin asks after a moment. “If people always mess things up.”   “I don’t know. It’s been a while since I’ve seen someone. I thought talking to you would be worth the risk. And it’s not like you’re not messing things up. I’m leaving with you, right?”   Seokjin grins, meeting your eyes. It goes quiet and then you pipe up again—   “I do sing sometimes to myself. Helps keep me sane.”   “Like what?”   “I don’t know.”   “Show me.”   You outright scoff. “No.”   “Please?”   A sharp exhale later, you start mumbling, slurring words together in some obscure melody. Your voice is rigid and stiff, out of tune even to your own ears. But you’ve heard it from your parents before. It’s some jingle on television back when electricity still worked.   Instantly, Seokjin starts laughing.   “Hey, it’s not my fault I don’t know the lyrics!”   “No, no, i-it’s amazing, please continue!” Seokjin squeaks out in the midst of a giggling fit and the corner of your own mouth twitches into a subtle smile.   … .. .   Unfortunately, these simple days don’t last long. Seokjin continues messing with his Erewhon device whenever he gets the chance — banging it on the tree house wall much to your dismay, curling up with it using a screwdriver kit he got from his capsule — and one evening, it suddenly comes alive.   There’s the sound of static and someone’s muffled voice.   “Hello?! Code White. R-six-four-three. This is Kim Seokjin from fleet seventy two.”   “R-four-......three-nine.”   It’s difficult to discern, but that’s all the other line says before the device goes silent again.    You look to Seokjin, anticipating dejection and disappointment. But instead, a grin spreads into his cheeks and his eyes crinkle ever so slightly. “Y/N. They’re coming soon.”   … .. .   It’s a morning of checking for traps, of hearing the orchestral songs of nature, of holding your breath as the breeze whisks through the strands of your hair. You’re tip-toeing to the simple snare laid on the ground when the familiar, deafening noise returns to the sky. A thin whistle that crescendos. Louder than you’re used to hearing. Ringing in your eardrums. It rumbles the ground, roaring through the silent forest. And you look up to see a streak of white in the sky.    It’s a larger white vessel with glass windows around. So white that it burns to the back of your eyelids, in no way natural whatsoever. And it descends to the same place Seokjin crash-landed.   Seokjin finds you and the two of you venture through the forest and shrubby towards it.   There’s a whirring and a compartment opens. Three different people step out, dressed in that unnatural white much like Seokjin is, pants and shirt cut off oddly. They look at Seokjin with smiles and incredulous expressions.   “I can’t believe you actually crashed.”   “It wasn’t my fault, JK!” Seokjin whines immediately and then quickly greets the other two females who he’s evidently less friendly with. “Amber. Lizzy. Good to see you too.”   “This something I expected from Namjoon or even Jimin, not you,” the shorter-hair girl named Amber huffs out as she playfully shakes her head.   “At least he’s safe,” Lizzy says with a smile. “Saves us from having to transport him back in a stretcher. But….who’s….that?”   Her eyes dart over to you and the other two strangers follow her line of sigh, re-directing their attention. Then their mouths drop open, eyes widening in surprise, having not seen you there.   Seokjin steps aside, allowing the light to shed on you. “She’s a lone one.”    “A-A lone one…?”   “Are you okay? Do you need help?” Amber whispers softly, lowering herself to meet your height and connect your eyes with hers as if you were a wounded animal. But then light flashes beneath her irises and her brows furrow. “Right. She might not know how to speak. Where’s my translation devi—”   The corner of Seokjin’s mouth tilts. “She does.”   You step forward, directly underneath the canopy spotlight coming through the spruce, walnut, and alder. “My name is Y/N.”

Arcadia. It’s protected by a dome-like structure reminiscent of glass, but as one of the strangers narrates, it’s supposedly a magnetic force field to protect against natural disasters. The place is ruled by tall buildings like the cities, but unlike it in the sense that they’re not decaying. They haven’t turned brown under wear and tear, don’t have moss growing on the sides of it. Rather, there are patches of green in between the paved pathways, flickering screens that are seemingly floating mid-air, masses of people walking past one another.    It’s a utopian society, they tell you. But you’re not sure what that means.   “Welcome to Arcadia,” the voice from above speaks rigidly.   The door whirs as it opens.   And white is all you see. White floors. White walls. People dressed in white. The white lights burn your vision as you stagger out, being aided by the strangers who were onboard with you.   They welcome you. Tell you they hope this place could be your refuge and new home. And you’re taken immediately by strangers until you begin thrashing, calling out to Seokjin until he consoles you. He promises that they mean no harm, that he’ll see you soon, and it’s enough for you to be relieved.   They lead you away, give you a new set of white clothing that are soft to the touch and a bin to place your old clothes in. You feel vulnerable as you strip from your grimy clothes and trade them in.   You’ve never been able to afford to hold onto sentimentalities. But it’s hard to let them go.   … .. .   “Hello—” The doctor glances at his clipboard. “You must be the new refugee, Y/N! Oh right, they call it newcomer now, not refugee. Anyway, nice to meet you, I’m Jung Hoseok. I’ll be assessing you today and setting you up to live in Arcadia. You understand me, correct?”   “Yes, I do.”   “Excellent! Makes things easier for me if we can speak the same language. But feel free to tell me if you want me to slow down. We’ll take things one step at a time.” The man grins brightly and sits on his stool, spinning around to a thin screen on the desk. “We’re going to be doing some tests together today, so I can figure out what I’ll need to help you with and we can make sure your transition is as smooth as possible.”   “Okay.”   You knew a doctor once. She was similar to him, whimsical as he seemingly is, until she had to amputate her own arm and then bled to death.   “Do you have any questions?”   “Not really.”   There’s an eye examination done until you tell him you don’t know all the letters of the alphabet. He switches to pictures afterwards and is enthused as he tells you that your eyes are apparently fine. He makes you lay down and open your mouth to examine your teeth. You spit into a vial, have your blood drawn. You step into a white capsule with black bars twirling around you. He shows you a picture of your bones and scanned brain with the excitement akin to a child’s afterwards.    And he asks too many questions.   “So you mainly ate rabbits, berries and other plants? Fascinating.” — “How often do you sleep?” — “So your bowel movements were pretty consistent?”   You miss Seokjin.   … .. .   “Seokjin, can you please tell us what happened on the fifth?”   The commander, chief, supervisor and several others are seated on the other side of the table.   “Yes. I was dispatched to forty one degrees, twenty four point two eight minutes north. Halfway there, I….became distracted by the scenery, and went off course. I became alert again when the shuttle skimmed along treetops. The console received a malfunction notification and I subsequently crashed into a forest area.”   “The maintenance record shows your Xanadu Shuttle was updated on the second of the previous month?”   “Yes.”   “Then do you accept responsibility for this incident?”   “Yes, I do.” There’s no point in putting up a fight. All the evidence is all in the machinery and Seokjin had made no attempt to hide it.   “I’m interested in the girl you rescued,” the Commander speaks up, tapping his pen on his clipboard. “When did you come into contact with her after you crashed?”   “After I crashed, I exited my Xanadu Shuttle and caught sight of her standing amongst the trees. I think...the accident got her attention and she came to investigate what it was.”   He nods and the people on the other side of the table look around at one another. There are soft murmurs and Seokjin stays quiet through their deliberation, keeping his eyes on his own report.   After a minute, it simmers down.   “The panel appreciates your honesty and integrity, Seokjin. In spite of your circumstances, you were able to rescue someone who will become a valuable member to our society and such a thing should not be overlooked. However, the crash was ultimately on your part and as such, you will have to be put on probation for a period of two months. The panel will also require that you retake your license class. Do you agree these actions are necessary?”   Relief washes over him. Seokjin thought this was it. He was anticipating that he’d lose his job.    “Y-Yes. Thank you.”   “You will have to pass your license class.”   “Yes, I will.”   “There is one more thing I would like to discuss with you, Seokjin,” The Commander speaks up. “I spoke to our Premier and Minister prior to this meeting and we came to an agreement that it would be in the best interest of everyone involved if you could foster the newcomer you rescued. Typically, as you know, we house newcomers for a while and monitor them. But she...seems to be a special case.”   The Chief furrows his brows. “Yes, she was isolated, wasn’t she?”   It’s known to all that the lone ones are usually the people that are most unstable. The ones with animalistic behaviour as a result of living in the wild and being socially deprived. The problematic ones. But they’re wrong. Seokjin doesn’t outright refute his own superiors, yet he’s certain that you don’t have any of those issues. You’re not violent. Uncivilized. Barbaric.   “Usually people are found in groups or clusters.”   “Exactly that. But it seems like Seokjin has built a rapport with her. It might lead to a smoother transition if there’s immediate integration. Or at least, it’s an experiment we want to try. He has a calm temperament as well which makes him an ideal candidate to attempt this new method. Would you be willing to house this newcomer for a period of time, Seokjin?”   He doesn’t need a second longer to think about it. “I wouldn’t mind whatsoever.”   ... .. .   Seokjin finds you and almost bursts out laughing with how relieved you look.   “Jin!”    He doesn’t mind the nickname either.   “I haven’t seen you in a while.” Hoseok twirls around with a blazing smile, his white coat fluttering with him. “But I have a feeling you’re here to see my little guest and not me.”   “You’re right.” He enters and stands by your side. “Has everything been alright?”   “Of course!” Hoseok interjects before you can answer. “I’m one of the best doctors here, what do you take me for? We had a very fun time together, right, Y/N?”   “Uh, sure.”   “I’ll take it.”   Seokjin smiles and looks at his old friend. “Is there anything…?”   “She’s healthy. She’s been taking care of herself well. Nothing that’s too concerning.”    Hoseok's eyes meet yours and he grins. “You’re approximately twenty to twenty five years old. Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like you have any family here in Arcadia, but you don’t have any diseases, so that’s something to be happy about! Minimal dental work that needs to be done. Blood pressure is good. You have a slight magnesium and iodine deficiency, but nothing dark greens, whole grains, fish and eggs can’t fix. I’ll give you some vitamins to be safe and some medication to avoid illnesses you’re potentially susceptible to in Arcadia.”   “That’s good news,” Jin exhales.   “You’re also healthy enough to have children!” Hoseok announces and if possible his grin widens. You blink at him and he quickly reads your confused expression. “Right, you might not be aware but it’s one of the main ambitions of Arcadia to repopulate society. People with the most compatible genes get paired together into family units. Depending on how your integration goes, you might get paired up in a family unit by the end of the week.”   “What?” You’re reeling. Starting a family and having children are things at the very back of your mind, not even in the realm of what your thoughts are, and you’re not sure what to think at this news.   Jin sighs at his friend. “You’re freaking her out.”   “Am I? Sorry,” the man laughs and looks at you. “Don’t worry. No one will force you. It’s just...highly suggested and recommended.”   … .. . “That’s the dining hall.”    “What do they serve?”   “On Mondays, there’s quinoa. Tuesday is this dried beans dish. So on and so forth. Don’t worry, there’s poultry too, so there are eggs and chicken breast which you can order. There’s corn, milk, cheese and a selection of fruit too. They also serve protein powders you can mix with water that gives you the same nutrition value.”   “It’s not like...that stuff you gave me, right?”   “You mean pemmican? No, it’s better. Or at least I hope so.” He smiles. “Everyone has the same food. Sometimes during celebrations though, they serve different things.”   “There’s not much privacy, is there?”   Seokjin follows your line of sight to the glass buildings where you’re able to see the people working on each floor. “I guess not. I’ve never really thought about it.”   You suppose it’s something to get used to. “Are...people staring at me, Jin?”   “Don’t mind it. It’s not everyday we get a new face around here.” Right as he says that, you lift your head to discover your face plastered on one of the screens at the top of the building as if you were a wanted criminal. Seokjin laughs. “News spreads fast around here.”   “I bet it does,” you mutter, a bit unnerved.    “It’s a nice place if you follow the rules, trust me.”   “What happens if someone breaks a rule?”   “Well, there’s a focus on restorative justice for small crimes. So people often do community service or talk to victims or the people they affected and try their best to fix their mistakes.”   “What about big crimes? Like if you killed someone.”    Yet, Seokjin stays silent for a moment. “They disappear.”   Your brows furrow, not sure what he means. But he doesn’t elaborate and you don’t push for an answer, uncertain that you want to know more.   Arcadia isn’t as you expected it to be. When Seokjin told you stories, part of you anticipated it being lesser and merely blown up in proportion through his evident love of this place. You had predicted a community ridden with suspicion, like many of the sanctuaries you had been to before they inevitably collapsed. Leaders suppressing their people. Scarcity in resources.   Another part of you expected an otherworldly universe, full of gibberish and things you didn’t understand. Much like the technology he carried with him or the shuttle that crashed in the forest.   But what is presented in front of you is a sort of familiarity in a changed background.   People like you know them, except courteous and independent.   “This is my housing unit.”    It’s a blinding white, two stories with the top floor off center and extended off the right side. It looks like two boxes haphazardly stacked on top of each other with giant pane glass windows at the front.   “It’s not much but it’s my home.”   You nod as your eyes drift to his lawn — a tiny patch of grass that surrounds the path leading up to the front door. As if entranced, you launch forward towards it. But it feels different underneath your feet, past the soles of your shoes. The soil isn’t soft. There aren’t any lumps, no grip when you try to root yourself into it.   Seokjin notices your reaction. “It’s artificial grass.”   “What does that mean?”   “It’s fake.”   “Fake? You can’t get real grass?”   “Guess not.”   The interior of his home is less white than all of Arcadia. There are mismatched cushions, wooden tables and bookshelves, fake yellow flowers on his marble kitchen counter, paintings of oceans and cities placed on the wall next to photographs of himself growing up. You glance over the knick-knacks lining the shelves, snow globes and postcards, tiny things you’ve always seen lying around shops in the decaying towns, but never paid much attention to.   “Sorry. It’s a bit messy.”   “No, I like it.”    He shows you to your room, an empty one down the hall. It’s much less decorated than his living space and he quickly excuses himself to tumble back in with heavier blankets and proper pillows. “Had I known you were coming, I would’ve had everything already set up!”   “I don’t think any of us knew I would be here.”   He laughs. “That’s true.”   You walk to the window, taking a peek outside to the white city that towers over and covers the blue sky, the tiny patches of grass that alleviates the brightness of Arcadia, the flying shuttles hovering past the paved paths.    “You’re probably tired, right? Do you want to rest a bit? I have a few things to do, so…”   “You don’t have to worry about me, Jin. I can take care of myself. Probably.”   Seokjin ends up shutting the door after promising he won’t take long. But it’s the first time in hours that there’s finally silence. And you allow the quietness to simmer down on you as you take a seat on the edge of the soft bed that sinks underneath your weight. You stare at the sheets, the white walls and floor, the luminescent sunlight streaming through the windows.   You’re not sure how you feel.   … .. .   You stare down at your slab of white meat, so white that you wonder if everything in Arcadia is dyed in this blinding shade. It’s something you might have to ask Jin, even if it’s a bit ridiculous.   You’re just not used to having meat that isn’t charged by the flames of a bonfire. But still, you tear it with your fingers and when you bring it to your mouth, it tastes dry and heavy — like it’s fake.   “This isn’t very good, is it?”   “It isn’t?”   Jin blinks and you lift your head. Immediately, your eyes connect to a stranger who instantly turns away and it occurs to you that people are watching.   “Don’t worry. It’s because you’re not using utensils. Here.” He hands you a metal stick with three prongs at the end and another one that’s rounded. Understandably, it’s awkward in your hold, hurts in your grip. It goes silent as you fumble with it. The chicken breast almost flies off your metal tray.   “It’s okay.” He smiles at your visible frustration and reaches over to slice it with a knife. Jin gently takes your hand holding the fork and pierces the piece. “Like this, see? Not too bad, right?”   “It would be easier with my hands.”   He agrees, “It would be.”   “Hey, you’re Y/N, right?” A familiar red-head comes prancing up to the table and steals a seat next to you. “I’m Lizzy. We met on the Xanadu Shuttle, remember? I was the one telling you all about the history of Arcadia?”   “Yes, I do.”   “This is Namjoon. He’s one of our robotics engineers,” she introduces a gawky, strapping male with framed glasses. He takes a seat next to Seokjin.    “A pleasure to be of your acquaintance. I’ve heard quite a lot about you in the past two hours or so. I am friends with Hoseok. He doesn’t indulge me in much information, he told me he received a great person of interest in his office. I believe that person may be you—”   Seokjin interrupts his ramble, “Namjoon.”   “Don’t mind him,” Lizzy laughs, ignoring the two men as she leans over the table to intrude into your personal space. “How are you getting settled in? Everything okay?”   “Yeah. I’d say everything’s okay.”   “I heard you were living with Jin now. Tell me, is he as messy at home as he is at work?”   “I am not messy,” he protests.   “Only a little,” you divulge her with a small smile.   Namjoon smiles. “I heard you crashed. Glad to see you’re still alive and well.”   “Thanks.” Seokjin’s eyes roll as his voice drips of sarcasm. “I’m sorry you couldn’t use my body for your next humanoid robotic experiment.”   “Not now, but in due time,” the other man teases then turns to you. “It’s a shame you’re partnered with Seokjin. He can be quite clumsy and forgetful. You’ll end up becoming his handyman like I am.”   “His first time he got into a Xanadu Craft, he broke the console,” Lizzy tells, making your mouth upturn.   Namjoon swallows down his food before asking, “If I may be intrusive, Y/N, is it really true that you were alone? In the forest, I mean.”   “I...was.”   “How long were you alone for?”   “I’m not sure. I think maybe two years.”   “And before that?”   “I...uh...traveled around and met different people.”   He leans forward. “And what happened to those people?”   “Well, some...passed away and others went somewhere else.”   “What did they pass away from?”   There’s a loud scraping of a chair against the tiled floor, grating to your ears. “I’m stuffed. Aren’t you, Y/N? I think we should head back now. Sorry, Joon, Lizzy. Might have to cut your questions short there. Maybe you can ask more next time.”   “Oh, alright then.”   They bid you farewell and Lizzy waves with a smile. As you exit, you look at Seokjin. “Thank you.” He saved you from answering, from bringing up memories you had no intentions of returning to.   Yet he smiles and then looks away, feigning ignorance. “For what?”   … .. .   They’re wrong. It’s not a shame at all to be with Jin at all. If anything, you think you’re quite fortunate. Ever since you’ve met him, he’s proven himself time and time again to be thoughtful and considerate — traits that you thought were gone in this era. But it’s him who makes it easier to deal with these changes, to enter into this new world.   … .. .   “I thought you were gone,” he says, looking down at you with a smile. You’re laying on his lawn in the middle of the night in bare feet. “I knocked on your door and then searched my whole house.”   “Where did you think I was?”   “I don’t know.” Seokjin plops down on his artificial grass, stretching out his body and laying beside you like all those times before. “I was worried. I thought something happened to you.”   “I’m sorry.”   “Don’t be.”   “I couldn’t sleep.”   It’s quiet as the pair of you look to the sky with your hands folded on top of your stomachs. The lamp posts nearby casted warm glows on your visages. The warm breeze making his cheeks rosy. Yet, none of you can see the stars — not with the light pollution of Arcadia, not when all the buildings were towering so high and covering it, not like out there in the middle of the forest.   “Remember when we were in the forest, Jin?”   “I do. I remember that one time, you didn’t completely put out the fire and my pants almost set on fire.”   You giggle and Jin relishes in the sound. “I apologized for that and who told you to sit so close to that spot?”   “Hey, I just wanted to be next to you.”   You remember the nights when you were able to drift off while staring at the horizon and how you were awoken by the first blush of dawn, sunlight coming through the trees. You have a feeling it’s going to be a long time before you have an experience like that again.   It’s going to be a long, long time. If ever again.   “I feel homesick,” you whisper, finally being able to pinpoint your emotions and it’s the most honest you’ve been since you arrived. “I don’t want to be paired up with anyone or have kids.”   Jin reaches out and you feel his hand against the back of yours. He holds it, clasping it tight. You shift and your eyes meet. “Don’t worry. They can’t make you do anything you don’t want to.”   You trust him.   … .. .   “If you want, we don’t have to eat in the dining center anymore. We can eat at home.”   The corner of your mouth pulls. “Is that allowed?”   “I’ll find a way around it,” Jin promises.   … .. .   “Please, Hoseok.”   “You know that’s not how the system works. There’s not much I can do anyway.”   “But you can put in your recommendation.”   He’s silent in contemplation. “She’s compatible with you, but more so compatible with others. Plus, she’d assimilate better with someone stricter.”   “I want to protect her. She’s my responsibility. Pair her with me.” Seokjin won’t let you be paired up with someone else in a family unit, expected to stay together and have children. He’ll keep his promise to you and be with you until the end — it’s also his selfish wish to be with you.   The other man sighs. “I’ll make a note of it, but I can’t promise anything.”   … .. .   You’re unfamiliar with the devices at hand — the kitchen appliances with automated voices that speak when you come close, the machines with tens of buttons you can’t read. They’re all things you once overlooked when you scrambled for remaining supplies.   “Is everything okay?”   “I’m trying to heat this up. You said I could use it, right?”   “Yeah. Here.” Seokjin comes behind you and takes your hand, guiding you where to press. “Click this button and then this one.”   You don’t understand technology at all. Even the television is odd, an overload on your senses.   “What do you think?” he asks, watching your reaction in amusement and how your eyes are as wide as the screen flashing against your face.   “It’s...a lot to take in.”   “That’s okay. Do you want to go outside instead? We can, if you want to.”   You glance out the window. “I’m fine here. I’m not used to there being so many people.”   “How about we work on some more worksheets?”   “Again?”   Jin laughs and the sound is tinkling. “You have to learn eventually. Come on.” He pulls you up and is happy to sit next to you at his kitchen table to teach you how to hold a pencil, how to write each letter and answer your questions.    You’re a fast learner. Today your strokes are smoother and you learn how to spell his name.   … .. .    Seokjin often knocks on your door before going to bed to bid you goodnight. Yet he seldomly finds you there, where you’re supposed to be. He wonders if you’re outside on his lawn again, but instead, he discovers you standing in his living room. You’re gazing out the window quietly with an unreadable expression.   “Is there something wrong?”   You turn around with a small smile. “I’m just a little homesick.”   He joins you, staring out at the city and the lampposts lined on the paved paths.    “How do we go outside, Jin? Not just outside, but beyond the dome.” To the forest again.   “Most people aren’t allowed outside because it’s dangerous. You would need to have my job or something similar, and that’s after you graduate from a three year program and pass several exams.”   It’s quiet and neither of you look at one another or speak when you reach over, discreetly taking his hand into yours. Seokjin laces his fingers through yours and squeezes.   He’s the only reason you can starve off the longing sewed uncomfortably in your chest.   ... .. .   In the following days, he receives a notification. The leaders are interested in you as a newcomer and extended an invitation to the party. So he helps you pick an appropriate outfit and the two of you enter with your hand looped around his arm as he reassures you.   “You must be Y/N!” The strangers, leaders of Arcadia, welcome you with tall bubbling glasses, one of which that you receive from a waiter. It tastes disgusting, but you try to not let it show on your face.   “It’s good to see that you’re getting yourself accustomed to Arcadia. I see you’re with your future partner this evening.”   The man laughs boisterously while you exchange expressions with Seokjin.   “That’s supposed to be a secret,” the woman beside him chides.   “Right, right. The postings of the new family units go up on Friday. My apologies for ruining the surprise, but I assume it is a happy one.”   You look up at him, gazing meeting Seokjin’s at once. The relief is overwhelming and what follows is a kind of excitement. Part of the weight lifted off your shoulders and Jin smiles tenderly. He leans in close, whispering in your ear so you’re the only one who hears—   “You shouldn’t look at me like that in a place like this or I might just do something about it in front of all these people.”   It’s bold. Unexpected but you know with the heat that rises into your face, it isn’t unwelcome.   “Y/N, is it?” The intimate moment is intercepted by other individuals approaching in blue attire, form fitting dress simple and modest. “You must be the newcomer! I’ve heard so much about you.”   “Yes, how has your transition been? Are you finding everything accommodating?”   You hope they don’t come close enough to feel the warmth radiating off your cheeks. “Yes. Arcadia has been very welcoming to me.”    They smile. “It’s so fortunate you can understand us and we don’t have to use those translating devices.”   “You were alone, correct?” another asks. “How did you fare in the wild like that? How did you manage to even eat?”   “I trapped animals like rabbits and squirrels and roasted them over fires.”   Laughter is suddenly roused all around you.   “Aren’t you glad you don’t have to do such a primitive thing anymore?”   “What I’m curious about is how you’re still alive without any radiation poisoning.”   “I used a radon detector. It was given to me a long time ago by an older woman who was with me. She died.” Automatic silence sweeps through the crowd. You clear your throat. “But I used it when I traveled through the cities.”   “I see.” Some are fascinated while others aren’t. “How preserved are these old cities?”   “Most buildings are still relatively in-tact. There are abandoned cars and buses too, but they’re useless without fuel and everything’s been raided, so there’s not much left. It’s one of the reasons I started to live in the forest.”   “Poor thing,” someone sympathizes, “Someone should’ve rescued you sooner. You wouldn’t have to suffer so much.”   “I didn’t suffer.”   They’re taken aback, clearing their throats and moving on from the subject. A man directs to the refreshment table — all the while Jin pulls you closer to him and away from the prying eyes of Arcadia.   … .. .   Later on in the evening when Seokjin’s gone to relieve himself, you meet an old man seated alone at the table.   “I was outside too,” he croaks. “Until two years ago.”   Your eyes find his — past the wrinkles are bright irises — and you remain silent.   “Many things happened that the people here would never understand. But my biggest regret is coming here willingly. Arcadia offers many things,” he says, “it has everything but one.”   “Freedom.”   … .. .   The words stick to you. Like flies to honey. Or the magnets on Jin’s fridge. They don’t cease from your mind — a plague that spreads, a pollutant that you can’t shake off no matter how hard you try.    Jin worries about you, but he doesn’t ask. He knows every time he does, you’ll reassure him that you’re fine.   So one night, he takes your hand and shows you to his television.   “Put this on.” He hands you a black, heavy device and smiles at your visible reluctance. “Trust me.”   You slip it on top of your head and it sits comfortably over your eyes, obstructing your vision in complete darkness. Headphones are put over your ears and you discover both of your senses of sight and sound are completely disabled. “What are you doin—”   The words die upon your tongue the moment the machine flickers on.   There are chickadees chirping and woodpeckers digging against the bark. The sound of insects flapping their wings in the beating sun and the whistling wind intensifies. You see the forest, a forest. Canopies of spruce, walnut, and alder cascading light to the verdant floor overgrown in shrubbery.   A cry chokes in your throat, but then it bubbles into laughter instead. You jump up and down.   “I see it. I see it!” You whirl around, looking in each direction. To the blue horizon and the sound of the rustling leaves.    Your home.   But when you take it off, it’s all gone. You’re shrouded in darkness with Seokjin’s features barely discernible. You’re trapped in the very utopia you had followed him to.   And you cry.   For the first time in his presence, for the first time in a long while, sobs break through your frame at what you’ve lost — what you’ve traded in, what you’ve given up. Jin embraces you, arms wrapped around your frame, trying his best to keep you whole.   “I want to go back.”   … .. .   Jin makes it easier to be in Arcadia. He gives you reason to become accustomed to it. He makes you wish you wanted to stay. But he’s not enough to dissipate your constant wistfulness.    He isn’t the solution to your plaguing dilemmas, but you’re glad he doesn’t have to bear that burden.    You wouldn’t want Jin to harbour the hardship of being your fix.   … .. .   It’s in the dead of the night that Seokjin comes out of his room and finds you. In the dark, you’re seated on the floor with your knees folded to your chest and the virtual reality headset slipped on top of your head, over your eyes and ears.   You’re taking it all in. The orchestral songs of nature, the birds and leaves, the swaying of the grass and flourishing shrubs, bathing in the warm sunlight you cannot feel.    He sees you, but doesn’t say anything, merely turning away.   At same time, you feel the presence of another and slip the device in time to catch his retreating backside.   “Jin,” you call out for him, knowing you’ve been caught.   He hums, turning around and the two of you look at one another.   “I’m sorry.”   The dark-haired man smiles tenderly. “It’s me who should apologize. I’m the one who brought you here selfishly.”   “It’s not your fault. I’m the one who agreed to some and I’m...the one having trouble adjusting.”   “That’s not it. The problem is you’re not where you should be. Home. Not my home. Not Arcadia. But your home. “   You stand and he meets you halfway.   You press your face to his shoulder and he embraces you. “I’ll help you go back,” Seokjin murmurs against your hair. “I thought you would be happy here, but I don’t want to keep you against your will.”   “Come with me.”   “You know I can’t,” he whispers in spite of your soft-spoken plea. “I have a life here. Like how you can’t leave yours. Arcadia is my home. It always will be.”   You hold him closer, shutting your eyes to savour the moment. “Won’t you get into trouble?”   “I’ll find some way.” The corner of his mouth turns. “I always end up fine. You will too.”   … .. .   The year’s posting goes up and just as the man had said, you and Seokjin are paired together. The two of you hold hands as you look at it, taking your time to read it over. It’s slow, but you understand nonetheless.   You’re congratulated by those around him, people you recognize and friends you have yet to know. It’s fortunate it worked out that way, but it’s still bittersweet, knowing of your upcoming departure.   And that same night, five hours past twelve, Jin takes you across Arcadia. The white shuttle is ready when you arrive in the dark and you scarcely recognize its scratched paint and dented surface. It’s the same one that he crashed in, the one that took him to you.   “I programmed the path back. It’ll go automatically without you needing to drive it. And once you close the door, it’ll come back on its own. I’ll erase the data’s history. Take this.” Seokjin gently places the sling of a heavy bag on your shoulder. “There are clothes in here, blankets, medicine, a first aid kit, some canned food and seeds of new plants you don’t have. It should help you out.”   Tears threaten to spill from your lash line. “Jin. Wait.”   Hope blooms within him, wondering if you’ve changed your mind, that you want to stay. But he knows having such selfish desires won’t help him, so he puts them away. Just for a moment.   He tries his best not to hang onto you, to hold you down.   “It was because of you that I could even cope so well. You made it so much easier for me. I...I…”   But Jin lets his greed slip.   He closes the distance and kisses you senseless. The man swallows your soft gasp and comes to cradle the back of your neck as you ease into him. You relish in the gentle touch, his tender affections and taste one another’s lips. It’s bittersweet, yet he pulls away with a faint smile.   “You should get in.”   You nod, pulling away from him. Everything the two of you wanted to say has already translated through the kiss.   Still, you take every moment you can and look to him. “Thank you, Jin.”   The doors whir as it closes. He gazes at you till the very last second, till it shuts. The thin whistle diminuendos as it lifts into the air. He watches the shuttle fade from sight and when the sun lifts at the first blush of dawn, what’s left is a streak of white in the sky.

The world is limitless.    You have learned of such a fact at a young age, traveling from desserts to mountains, finding all the hiding places and safe spots that others had claimed no longer existed. But they did and you’ve sought refuge in this forest, found a home amongst the rustling foliage and canopies ruled by spruce, walnut, and alder. There was just enough rays of light bursting through to allow the saplings to flourish and shrubs to overgrow. And without the presence of others, you could listen to the woodpeckers hammering against the wood, the wings of insects fluttering about.   Everything was the way you left it. Unchanged from the time you left like it was waiting for you.   It’s as if Arcadia and Seokjin was a fever dream. Except the mementos brought back with you reminds you otherwise. You dig into your bag, looking through what he’s given you, everything he picked out that he knew would help. But you discover something special at the very bottom.   It’s a black, thick rectangular piece of plastic reminiscent of a walkie-talkie, synced up to only one other without a third in between.   You hold the Erewhon device to your lips and press the side of the button.   “Hello.” There’s a pause. “My name is Y/N.”   Silence follows.   But then there’s the sound of static and someone’s crystal clear voice.   “Nice to meet you. I’m Seokjin.”   A wide smile spreads into your cheeks.

[the-dimitrescu-seamstress]

Twelve Yards of Floral Damask - One Shot

(Mun here. I was quiet for the most part of last night, but after Nicole Tompkins stream, a fire was lit under me and I finished a drabble I had been working on ever since I saw that one portrait of Lady Dimitrescu. 

Below is a one-shot I wrote, one of many I have planned. Magdalena Petran is my OC, while Lady Alcina Dimitrescu belongs to Capcom. I hope you enjoy it.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The castle was immense and, if Magda had to admit it, a bit intimidating. It was rather easy to get yourself turned around in the hallways, or initially forget which door led to where off of the interior courtyard. The servants that were around, and willing to speak to her, advised the seamstress that, in order to make life in the castle easier for her, she had better learn the layout as best she could and as quickly as she could.

That was a task easier said than done. She felt safe in her part of the castle, even if safe was only a relative term. If she took a wrong turn or opened the wrong door, she could easily end up in a place where she would not return from. She was well aware of the screams that would echo throughout the castle. Sometimes they came from the direction of the family’s private chambers, but more often they would crawl up from the castle depths. Either way, Magda never wanted her voice to join them.

But, if she was so afraid, why was she quietly walking the halls this late at night? The simple answer was that the servants were right. She needed to learn how to navigate this world; both the physical and the social aspects. That meant she needed to learn all she could about the castle and its inhabitants. Repairing garments they were used to could only get you so far. Anyone could mend a seam or stitch a button, but Magda needed to make sure she was invaluable. The Countess seemed pleased with her work so far, but she had yet to entrust her with creating anything new. She needed to change that.

The other reason Magda was using the late hour to do her self-guided tour was that there were less people around. Most of the servants were already in bed, and she had picked a night that the girls were out on a hunt. The last thing Magda needed was for them to stalk her through the castle for fun. Their laughter in the dark was unsettling.

The lack of individuals also allowed her to take her time on examining the various portraits, busts, and ceramics that were thoroughly scattered throughout the place. She tried to piece together how old Lady Dimitrescu was by the decor, but there were items from across many time periods, keeping Magda from placing an exact age on the woman. The daughters could have been from the mid-1800’s, if the portrait in the Entrance Hall was any indication, but all she knew of the Countess was that she either had lived for many centuries or she was a collector of fine antiques and enjoyed living in great opulence.

The seamstress stood at the top of the stairs in the Main Hall, mentally mapping out the areas through the doorways around her. “That way to the Hall of the Four… Left and to the left again for the Entrance Hall, Carriage Gate, and the decrepit elevator of death. Though all this is a circle as well. Door to the right in the Hall of the Four leads to…” Magda didn’t complete that sentence, but through that door was the receiving room where she… where she became an employee of the castle. That would be a place to avoid for a while. Taking a breath and ignoring the brief ache of her left wrist, she continued.

“Dining Room below, and through to the left is the kitchen, while straight ahead is the courtyard. Once in the courtyard, to the right is the private chambers of Lady Dimitrescu. To the left is the Opera House, and my workspace.” To think that this castle had its own opera house. Yes, it was small, but still incredible to be in. With the bottom floor mostly mapped in her head, Magda began to walk the second floor. Here were the doors to the dressing and sitting rooms, as well as the Wine Room. Knowing that, she turned away from the dressing rooms and quietly went through the doors opposite.

The statue in front of her was large, unexpected, and the subject matter was really almost clichéd. Magda thought vampires were only supposed to have decadent art pieces of the sacrificial sort in works of fiction, and yet here was one being displayed before her. Perhaps it was a family heirloom or a macabre wedding gift. Either way, she decidedly turn her attention from it and continued on her exploration.

Light bled into the hallway from the room to the left, its door partially closed, and there were slight sounds of movement coming from within. Curiosity overcame self-preservation as Magda slowly crept forward, barely breathing in order to be as quiet as possible. Naturally, her careful steps found the one floorboard that squeaked under her weight, causing her to freeze in place and wait.

“To whomever is lingering in the hall, your eavesdropping presence has been noticed and it is not appreciated. Announce yourself before I lose my patience.” Magda closed her eyes and mouthed a silent curse as the voice of Alcina Dimitrescu sounded from within the room.

“It’s… It’s Magdalena Petran, ma’am. Your seamstress?” she replied nervously, before realizing how stupid she sounded. As if there was another Magdalena working here. There was a tense silence before it was broken by a simple command.

“Enter.”

Knowing better than to make her wait, Magda obeyed and quickly entered the room.

She had expected it to be a private study, but instead she found the room to be a simple art studio. No, simple wasn’t the right word. While it lacked the gilded decor of the rest of the castle, the ceiling was high and vaulted, complete with a skylight to let plenty of natural sunlight in during the day. Its simplistic appearance was only due to how older looking, more worn, and used everything was. The darker woodwork and wallpaper contributed to the effect as well. The floor lacked polish and uniformity in board shape and coloring. The few pieces of furniture and large quantities of books were all pushed against the walls, leaving plenty of room for a canvas and easel to sit in the center of the room. This was a place of work. Lady Dimitrescu, clad in an artist’s smock and with brush and palette in hand, gazed down at Magda in her usual authoritative fashion.

“What is your reason for wandering the halls of my castle at such a late hour, Miss Petran? I doubt that you are looking for clothing to repair.”

“I was looking...” she stopped and quickly corrected herself. “I was learning to find my way around the castle. It’s a large estate and I’d rather not get lost or open the wrong door.” Or get eaten, she thought.

“Could you not do this during the day?”

“I didn’t want to get in anyone’s way, mistress. I thought if I did it at night, most of the servants would be asleep, your daughters would be out hunting or otherwise occupied, and you would be…” Magda’s voice died in her throat as she looked down, not quite sure of what to say next.

“You thought I would be secreted away in my private chambers, busying myself with whatever womanly duties a lady of the house tended to do late at night. Is that it? Look at me when I am talking to you.” Magda’s head immediately snapped upward, fear likely showing in her eyes since an amused little smile, one with an edge to it, crept across Lady Dimitrescu’s deep red lips.

“Ma’am, I would never do something like that or presume anything about your nightly activities. I was not prowling or sneaking around. I was just exploring and figuring things out and I saw the light, so I came to look and then… I’m sorry, Mistress. I honestly didn’t mean to intrude.” The taller woman watched Magda for a long while, yellow eyes boring into her unwaveringly, before turning her attention back on the unfinished painting.

“Which is it?” she asked in a clipped manner, adding a few minute details to the wings of the angel depicted on her canvas.

“I beg your pardon?” Magda replied, confused.

“Throughout this entire conversation, you have used both ‘ma’am’ and ‘mistress’ when addressing me. Are you unable to make up your mind, child? Pick one or the other.” A few more brush strokes. “Now, which is it?” Magda was a bit lost. She didn’t know if this was a test or if she was simply making a mistake that needed to be corrected. Not knowing which was the better option, she went for a third choice.

“…Countess?” At that, the other woman paused and slowly turned to look at Magda once more, yellow eyes once again locked onto her, but this time her gaze was one of appraisal rather than judgement. This time her smile was one of satisfaction, as if saying ‘well, the mortal can be taught’. She then returned to her painting, the tension in the room having dissipated. However, Magda did note that she had not dismissed her. Whether this was another test, or the woman just enjoyed toying with her, she couldn’t say.

Rather than run the risk of spoiling the mood or the Countess’ artist moment, Magda took the time to quietly look around the room, taking in details she had previously missed; the large stuffed snapping turtles, the bell tower gears seen through the windows, and the immense portrait hanging in a ornate wood frame on the far wall.

You would think missing something like that upon entering would have been impossible, but then again, the subject in the painting was initially blocked by a living being of the exact same size. Now Magda could see it clearly, and it was gorgeous. It was the Countess, but perhaps a little younger. She still had a pink flush to her skin, still had life in her. No, that was wrong. Lady Dimitrescu ate, drank, and breathed like everyone else, but there was a difference that Magda couldn’t quite place.

The dress she wore was exquisite, and Magda took an unintended step forward before stopping herself. The Countess didn’t seem to have noticed, but she still decided to play it safe.

“Countess? That portrait… it’s you, isn’t it?”

“It is,” she replied with an amused half chuckle. “Unless you are aware of another woman of my stature.” She was clearly enjoying this. Good. Better an amused Countess than a wrathful one.

“May I take a closer look?” A gentle, almost absentminded, shooing motion with one hand was all the response that was given, but Magda took it as a yes, quickly walking over.

Up close, it was even more impressive that she originally thought. She had always been impressed by how artists managed to convey fabric and textures with simple strokes from a paintbrush. There were even minute wrinkles in the skirt. It was beautiful, absolutely stunning. Magda’s gaze hungrily devoured every detail she saw of this garment. At first she thought the fabric was a brocade, and from her initial distance, the mistake could be understood. The print was the proper size and detail for the material, but brocade would have been too heavy or stiff to have the folds of the skirt lay as they did.

“Floral damask?” she asked eagerly, not even thinking that she had just blurted out something in an otherwise quiet room.

“What?” came the terse response.

“The fabric, it’s a floral damask, isn’t it? Sterling gray and white.” Not even waiting for a confirmation, she went back to her examination. Too low a neckline for Victorian, also wrong hairstyle for the time. Late Victorian perhaps? Edwardian? That would make sense. At least she had a decade to work with, but Edwardian fashion changed every year of that decade. Either way, her mind was already clicking, and the desire to make or even see this garment had nestled itself thoroughly into her psyche, digging its damned little claws into her. Magda was like this when she saw a piece of clothing that intrigued her, flaming an odd passion inside of her. There was no way she would let this go so easily.

“Does the gown still exist?” she asked, turning around and looking unexpectedly at the Countess, who was now standing directly behind her. For a woman her size, it was unnerving how quietly she could move if she wished to.

“It intrigues you, doesn’t it?”

“I… If I can… I would love to make this. It’s twelve yards, at least, if that was when… if you were…” The Countess’ eyebrow quirked a little, and Magda immediately changed her wording, knowing it was a very bad idea to mention sizes, especially to her. “Historically, at least twelve yards of fabric would be needed for a Late Victorian or Edwardian dress like that. If… Countess, I know you think I’m babbling, but I believe I can recreate this gown for you. Please. I know I can.”

“Whether you can or cannot is not the issue, Miss Petran. The hour is late and I would rather not hear you prattle on about fabric or garments that have not been worn in quite some time. I believe I have indulged you for long enough. I suggest you retire back to your quarters for the night before you find yourself anywhere else in this castle.” It wasn’t quite a threat, but there was an edge to it, and the seamstress knew better than to test that edge.

“Yes, Countess,” she replied, giving her a bow before heading for the door, her mind still processing the gown.

“And Magdalena?” Magda froze upon hearing her first name spoken, a chill running down her spine. Why the sudden name change? Had she done something wrong? She was at the door, she could have simply continued on, feigning ignorance. But instead, she turned around, ready to face whatever faux pas she had unwittingly done. Alcina was still at the portrait, back to her.

“Yes, Countess?”

“Three days from now, I would like a tailoring session. Mid-afternoon. That is all.” It was good that she could not see Magda’s face, as her jaw went slack and she stared. Three days. She had three days to  ready and prove herself. The workshop wasn’t a mess, per se, but she knew she could make it better for her visit.

“Yes, Countess. Absolutely.” Another bow, and she was gone. Magda may have just made herself useful.

[hajimes-erect-ahoge]

Postmortem- Chapter 15

Kokichi, Shuichi and Kaito go to the store and do some more training! ao3

The first thing Ouma registered upon waking up was that it was cold.

It wasn’t a blistering cold, but it was an absence of warmth that left him huddling under the covers in search of more heat. He vaguely recalled crawling into the lower bunk with Saihara last night, their bodies just barely close enough for them to feel each other’s body heat. Speaking of which, where was that body heat right now?

Groggily cracking his eyes open, Ouma sat up in bed and cast a quick glance to either side of him. Nothing. Saihara was gone and, upon inspection of the other bed in the room, Momota had risen as well.

Ouma yawned, interlocking his fingers and stretching his arms in front of him. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, but froze when he heard faint voices from the living room.

“Are you sure, Momota-kun?” Unmistakably Saihara’s voice asked, “He’ll find out soon enough, you know how he is.”

“Ouma doesn’t need to know!” Momota argued, “Besides, he’s still sleeping! I bet we’ll be back before he even wakes up!”

Both of them froze when they heard the creek of the bedroom door opening, revealing a less than pleased Ouma standing over the threshold.

“O-Ouma!” Momota stammered, “Uh… How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough.” Ouma frowned, sticking his nose in the air haughtily. “I can’t believe you two were making plans without me, right in my own home! How rude!”

“It’s not what it looks like!” Saihara spat out, panicking. “We were only trying to protect you!”

“Psh! I don’t need protecting! Who do you think I am?” Ouma crossed his arms, pouting. “Now out with it!”

“Fine…” Momota gave Saihara a quick look before continuing, “Me and Shuichi were thinking out heading to the supermarket to pick up some groceries and other necessities.”

“That’s it?” Ouma asked, perplexed. “What’s the big deal about that?”

“We figured you would probably want to come with us, but, uh…” Saihara scratched at the nape of his neck nervously, “We’re not sure that’s the best idea.”

“Ohhhh, I see!” Ouma clapped his hands together excitedly. “Just kidding, I totally don’t get it. You were saying?”

“Listen, I know you don’t see it this way but you have enough on your plate already and we don’t want to give you even more to deal with.” Momota answered, “People probably aren’t going to react so greatly to seeing you out in person, especially after… you know…”

“We just don’t want you getting harassed or anything for what you did during the killing game.” Saihara explained, “I… I don’t want to see you get hurt, Ouma-kun.”

“Aw, how sweet!” Ouma grinned, “I appreciate the thought and all, but I don’t need you two protecting me from harm! I’m a big boy, I can handle myself!”

Saihara and Momota exchanged a worried glance, sensing Ouma’s stubbornness.

“Ouma-kun, please-” Saihara practically begged.

“It’s fine!” Ouma rolled his eyes, demonstrating his growing boredom. “I’ll show you that it’s no problem at all!”

“...Fine.” Momota gave in, not wanting to argue with him. “We leave in five.”

“Yay! I’ll go get ready!” Ouma gave a small cheer before running off, leaving Saihara and Momota standing awkwardly in the living room.

Both of them were clearly displeased at this turn of events, not having expected Ouma to wake up and interfere with their plans. But nonetheless, there was no taking back what had just transpired, so they simply prepared themselves for the inevitable.

After a short amount of time, Ouma returned to the living room to meet the other two once again.

“So what store are we even going to?” Ouma asked curiously.

“There’s a supermarket a few blocks from the apartment complex.” Saihara answered, “It’s pretty nice out so I figured we could walk there.”

“Okie dokie!” Ouma smiled, innocent as ever.

The trio then departed, making their way to the local supermarket.

~~~~~~~~~~

A few blocks later, the three boys arrived at the store. It was still quite early in the morning, thus the store was sparsely populated. This was the first time being in a public space since the killing game for all three of them, so it was agreed on that they should try to minimize their exposure to people for a bit. Ouma immediately took to observing the inside of the store, inadvertently making eye contact with a particularly sour-looking saleswoman. Paying no mind to it he quickly looked away after giving a sly smile. He was determined not to let anything get to him, solely focusing on getting in and out of the store.

The store was neither too large nor too small; It was big enough to house all of the supplies they needed yet small enough to seem cozy. Upon entering, the three boys decided it would be best to divide up their tasks, each of them searching a certain area of the store. Saihara was to stock up on food and drinks and Momota was to search for toiletries and other basic necessities not provided for them already, leaving Ouma to look for any other miscellaneous items. It was really a two-man job, as Saihara and Momota were covering both main areas of items that were needed, so Ouma took the opportunity to relax and browse the store for anything that seemed entertaining.

While Saihara and Momota occupied the first few aisles and middle of the store, Ouma took to the back shelves filled with various knick knacks and other goods. There were arts and crafts kits and board games suited for children, brightly colored with words that popped off the packaging. Travelling left led Ouma to discover a variety of puzzles, including a few milk puzzles. After a few moments of consideration, Ouma selected a puzzle that had the best chance at entertaining him, as well as a deck of cards and a mystery themed board game.

After scouring the remaining aisles for anything else that may have caught his attention, Ouma approached the register, noticing that the only open register was being run by the same lady that gave him a not-so-friendly look before. An awkward tension pierced the air as Ouma set his things down on the counter, sliding them forward.

The exchange was painfully silent as Ouma swiped his card, carefully stacking his items while sliding the receipt into his pocket. Mumbling a half-assed thank you, he gave the woman one last look, carefully observing her features.

The scoff that she gave almost went unheard by Ouma. Almost.

Narrowing his eyes, he stared back at her with more vitriol than before, though it hardly rivaled the look of pure disgust on her face.

“You’re lucky I even touched your filthy items, what with the horrible things you’ve done and all.” She spat, a haughty tone coating her words. “The other two I could deal with, but you’re really something else, you know? Walking in here like the whole outside world doesn’t hate you, acting like you’re above it all. It’s disgusting. I’m surprised you even got those two to tolerate you.” She gestured to Saihara and Momota, who were waiting outside of the store with their backs turned to Ouma, completely unaware of what was going on.

Ouma simply stared, processing the words that were just spat at him. He could deal with one person hating him, but the whole world outside of the killing game? Was he really that despised?

...Did his sacrifice mean nothing to them?

“I’d be careful if I were you.” The lady continued, ignorant of Ouma’s inner turmoil. “Or else you’ll end up back in the hospital where you belong.”

Eyeing her cautiously, he stepped backwards, slowly making his way to the exit. He had no idea how true this woman’s words were and he had no intention of finding out. Forcing the most obnoxious smile onto his face that he could muster, Ouma responded:

“Have a wonderful day, and thank you so much for the kind words. I truly appreciate it.”

The look of horror on the woman's face was most definitely worth it, Ouma thought.

With a quick turn of his heel he walked out of the store, meeting Saihara and Momota where they were standing outside.

“There you are!” Momota turned to him, “What took you so long?” He cast his gaze downwards, observing the items in Ouma’s hands. “What did you get?”

Ouma proudly showed off his items as they walked back to the apartment complex, describing each one with an unnecessary amount of detail. Momota then proceeded to call his purchases “childish” and “a waste of their money”, to which Ouma produced a waterfall of crocodile tears. By the time that Saihara was able to calm him down they had arrived at the apartment complex, the day still young.

Once they had arrived, they went about dispersing their newly purchased items into their new locations. While Saihara and Momota busied themselves with organizing things, Ouma simply threw the games he bought in the bedroom and went to go watch some television. For the time being he was content with just relaxing, the words of the woman from the store having been shoved to the back of his mind for now.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright, that’s enough stretching!” Momota declared, standing up straight. “It’s time for today’s workout!”

The sun was rapidly setting, the glowing orange tint of the sky fading into a purple-black. Soon enough, they would be engulfed by the darkness of the night.

“So what’s the workout for today?” Saihara asked, finishing up the last of his stretches.

“A run!” Momota announced proudly, messing with a few of the buttons on his new watch. “Fifty laps around the apartment complex!” With a loud beep of his watch, Momota took off running in the direction of the apartment complex, located just across from the park.

“Should we follow h-” Saihara turned towards Ouma, who was already sprinting away after Momota. With a sigh, Saihara began to jog after them, careful to conserve his energy.

Momota, who was already by the apartment complex, gave a quick look over his shoulder, smirking when he saw Saihara lagging behind. When he turned back forward, however, he yelped in surprise as he saw Ouma jogging slightly ahead of him.

“Nishishi!” Ouma giggled, noticing Momota exclaim in shock. “Momota-chan must be pretty out of shape if he can’t even keep up with me!”

“Huh?! You little-!” Momota sped up, chasing after Ouma. “I’ll show you who’s out of shape!”

“I’d like to see you try!” Ouma sprinted even faster, feeling surprisingly good. All of that running away from Momota that he did in the past was proving useful, he supposed.

Ouma and Momota remained in a stalemate for quite a while, each of them refusing to give in and slow down, even if that would be beneficial to them in the long run. Fatigue quickly settled in and they each began to slow down, though they stubbornly kept going.

Then Ouma tripped.

“Woah!” Momota came to a halt, crouching down besides Ouma. “Are you okay?”

“...Momota-chan…” Ouma whispered weakly, eyes downcast.

“...Yeah?”

“You’re so gullible!” Ouma took off in a sprint once more, barreling ahead of Momota.

“Damnit!” Momota tried, but failed, to catch up with Ouma, who had benefited greatly from the headstart he gave himself.

He ran and ran, but eventually Ouma disappeared from his line of sight, blurring into the horizon.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ouma had been running for what felt like hours, though in reality he knew it had probably been closer to about fifteen minutes. The apartment complex was already relatively large in perimeter, and doing laps around it only made him realize how truly large it must’ve been. It was completely dark out by now, the sun having dipped fully below the horizon. The moon was shining brightly, casting a shimmer of moonlight over his face.

Arriving at the entrance to the apartment complex, Ouma took note of how many laps he had completed. A quick check over his shoulder let Ouma know that neither Momota nor Saihara were nearby, giving him the perfect opportunity to take a break. He bent over, hands on his knees, panting. After staying like that for a few moments, he did a quick stretch and stood back up, letting out one last breath.

Staring into the distance, Ouma saw two figures approaching from the opposite direction.

“Saihara-chan! Momota-chan! There you guys are!” Ouma shouted, “I was starting to think you guys got lost or something!”

No response.

But Ouma could’ve swore he saw the two figures speed up.

Panic started to settle in as the two figures got closer and Ouma realized that they were, in fact, not Saihara and Momota. Forcing himself to move on shaky legs, he realized that he would stand little chance in a fight against two men significantly larger than him, especially with how winded he was from all the running he just did. With no other option but to run, Ouma forced himself to turn around, barely seeing the two mysterious men break out into a full sprint.

Two strong hands gripped his shoulders, jerking him backwards despite his attempts to get away. Before he could even turn around, something heavy and metallic connected with his head, sending a blaring pain throughout his skull. One hand breaking his fall and the other clutching his head, he could barely make out the two faces of the men right in front of him. He felt another sharp pain in his head, the arm supporting him giving out and causing him to crash into the ground.

The sound of two men laughing was the last thing he could remember before going unconscious.