#i even saw the door the bears broke into which was originally made of flesh and eyes? it was just a regular door this time tho

[aliteralgrizzlybear]

In a very On-Brand moment for me, last night I had a dream I lived in a house that was broken into by bears. Just a shit ton of black bears in the bathroom, in the bedrooms, I think the dream was originally going to be some kind of PTSD thing about a younger version of me being stuck in a hospital for tests and such and the reliving of the memory of my mom dying but I had to contact animal control because there were bears in the house and they were understandably confused (both the bears and animal control). There was also a boar that I had to maneuver around while coming back to the house before I woke up and I was like "maybe that's why the bears are in my house" but there was no time for emotional trauma bc I had to deal with this Reverse Goldilocks Bullshit

[sepia-mahogany]

Platonic Hanahaki

The stories are just as widely known, of loving and losing, of yearning and forgetting, common in present time as they were years ago, of loving someone so deeply, without desire but not without passion, of kings and warriors, of lovers and brothers, of people not kin not lovers, growing in their lungs the flowers with thorns that cut deep, and drank away their blood without leaving any survivors.

Of course the tales are many, as tragic as they are, of how a man who killed his beloved for making him feel what he deemed unnecessary, his beloved who offered him a little white carnation, covered red in blood, but he held up his sword and cut through flesh, only to follow few days later in his grief.

Or of how a woman travelled across seas, in search of her soulmate, for the agony of her blood kept her comfort, for the heartbeat that echoed along with the garden she grew inside her lungs, because it meant her beloved was well, until one day, she coughed up a black rose and sank to her knees, disappearing from the world.

Of course, there were the ones who lived and got their happy ends, filled with their beloved ones caress or tears of guilt, and so was recorded, the flowers turning to dust and fading away, for their love had been acknowledged, so why the need for the reminder in their veins? Only marks appear on their skin, the place where they first made contact, sometimes the cheek, sometimes the hand, sometimes unseen under the clothes from when they rough-housed as kids.

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Jiang Fengmian closed the book that he read, the pain blossoming sharp in his lungs, since that night when he sat, staring at the lotuses under the moonlight, his mind drifting to moments of the past, of longing of what once was, Lotus Pier once his home, felt more like a shackle around his wrists, yet this was his responsibility and he would bear the weight.

He thought to the day he waved away his dearest friend, the one by his side since they were young and grown into the men they were today, and as life went on, it was natural and it was expected, so Fengmian had not been forlorn but rather joyfully wished them well with sincerity and hoped they could visit some time in the future.

He was happy for Changze, for he had found his One, he’d seen the way he looked at her and she at him, he may have held affections for one of them but his love for their friendship outweighed it, and he would be content if they were healthy and successful in the path they chose, but even he knew with their own busy lives, it would be difficult to meet for a long time, so he bid them farewell and cherished their memories.

He didn’t feel as disappointed over his marriage as he originally did, it might have been arranged because of Meishan Yu Sect’s pressuring and his mother’s continuous desire for wanting one of theirs to be his bride, ‘to be the stern hand to his mellowness’ she had said, and what kind of a filial son would he be if he broke the betrothal off now?

And it was not as if he knew the Third Lady of Meishan Yu personally, seeing his brother-in arm’s relationship, his heart could not help but swell with hope, perhaps they could come to understand one another? He looked at his flowers, the ones he had grown with them, and the purple lotuses blooming near the entrance and thought, would she notice how the the colour reflected her eyes? Maybe a boat ride would help? Making future plans with anticipation, he felt a smile blooming on his face.

The day of the wedding came and went, except the chambers of the first night of the married couple remained empty, for his wife had requested for separate quarters in the privacy of their room, he agreed, perhaps she was nervous? Knowing each other better was better than consummation with a stranger, he nodded to himself, he should probably help make her comfortable as her husband.

He approached her room after he finished dressing and knocked lightly, and hesitantly called out “Third-lady?” The door opened, by one of the two girl’s Yu Ziyuan had brought over, and he saw his heart skip a beat when he saw her sitting clothed in Yunmeng Jiang’s purple, her violet eyes staring at him, her lips pursed in a line.

“What is it?” she asked, annoyance clear by her expression, he hesitated yet again, perhaps he had come too early? Yesterday had been a busy banquet. “Would you like to come to the pavilion with me today?” her eyes narrowed and he thought he saw a brief anger flash on her face, was she misunderstanding his intentions?? “The flowers are quite beautiful and the weather is quite good today, tea outside seems a calming time, doesn’t it?” he added, trying to make sure his tone did not seem too hurried, except she became even more angry.

Just when he expected her to refuse, she nodded curtly, “What time?” He let out a breath he did not even realise that he was holding, “Whatever seems comfortable.” He smiled at her gently, her eyes roamed over his face once again before she looked away, knowing full well she meant for him to leave, he got up.

He was happy throughout the day and it must have shown on his face, because his right-hand man told him to leave the Sect work to him for today and ‘just go Sect Leader!”, he had prepared the afternoon snacks himself, the place polished and ready for a wonderful evening, despite that, he still could not help but anxiously look over everything as he waited for her arrival, and she arrived, wearing the same robes as she was in the morning.

He got up to extend her seat. “Good Evening, Third-Lady” She had been looking around the garden since she had entered, he thought it out of appreciation, since these were the flowers they cultivated for years, until her eyes landed on him, which held the same anger as they did earlier in the morning. He served her the tea which she held tightly in her hands, and he found himself worrying, “Is something wrong?”

He expected her to say that the tea was not up to her taste at best, he expected her to criticise the garden’s decor at worse, what he had not expected were the words that left her mouth. “So this is the garden you cultivated with that woman? And you dared to bring me, your wife, here on the first day after our marriage?” She hissed, her words crisp and cutting, he felt confusion, followed by horrified upon realisation of the implications. 

“Third-Lady! What are you saying??”

“What am I saying?! Do you deny it? Do you take me for a fool? You married me once you were rejected by her, everyone knows that and you think that I will sit here calmly while being disrespected!? What do you take me for??” She yelled at him, slamming the cup down, he was truly shocked and frozen in his spot looking at her in bewilderment, had that really been what everyone was saying?

However, she took his shocked silence for agreement and got up to leave, “Third-Lady wait! It isn’t as you think, at all! Let me explain, we were friends and nothing else” He saw her pause, her back towards him so he hurried to explain.

“Changze brought her over once, to show her the garden we had cultivated since we were kids.” He paused to take a breath, “The only thing that was planted upon her suggestion were the purple lotuses-” He saw her head tilt as she looked the flowers, with a hopeful heart he thought, ‘maybe..?’ But before he could finish, Yu Ziyuan had turned around, a sneer upon her lips as she trampled upon the flowers next to her.

‘...to be the first thing you see, when you enter the garden.’

She left him staring at the trampled flowers, the tea cup tipped all over the table from when she smashed it in anger, and he sat there, processing what had happened, until a disciple knocked at the door, “Sect Leader?” The disciple peeked inside to catch his eye and stammered, “The meeting is about to begin, some urgent things came up and-” he smiled and replied “Of course, I’ll be on my way.” He sent the disciple off, grabbed a few napkins to clean up the table, and picked up the trampled flowers from the ground.

The days that followed went on without much words spoken between them, he did not dare to make the first move, because if she could misunderstand him in ways to such high extents, he was not sure what she would think if her sent over gifts, even if the thought of sending some crossed his mind, her scowling face and the violet of her eyes reminded him of that day, leading him to stay away.

He entered the garden, as months went by, the flowers that were once blooming wilted, just like everything in life had its end, some more sooner than the others, some caused by another, he thought as his eyes lingered on the place where once the purple lotus flowers stood. 

--------

“She’ll love them!” Cangse Sanren had said with that confident smile of hers, giving him thumbs up with both hands covered in dirt from where she planted her side of the lotuses with Changze, who nodded as well when he looked at him. “The ones on the right are from us, the ones to left were planted by her were own future-husband.” She grinned as he could feel flush creeping up his cheeks, he cleared his throat accompanied by Changze’s fond sigh. 

“She’ll probably melt, Sect Leader Jiang, down on his hands and knees in dirt, planting flowers in her-” Jiang Fengmian cut her off “Okay, enough! Enough!” he muttered, wiping his hands clean and looking at Changze, who only looked the other way as his wife cackled, the traitor. “Besides I plant flowers anyway, so does Changze, it’s not anything special like that.” He said defensively, Cangse Sanren had the audacity to roll her eyes, at Sect Leader, and his own home at that. “Sureee, Fengmian, sure.” 

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When he began to plant new fresh seeds, it took him much longer without Changze doing the other half, now, the thought of even considering Yu Ziyuan to plant the other half seemed laughable, he had been wrong in thinking they could come to understand one another, but now what was done was done, he could not exactly with separate her just within a few months of marriage, so he took a deep breath and decided upon a peace offering.

She was the Violet Spider, with a harsh temper and equally cutting words, what would be a gift that would be to her liking? He did not need to ponder over it for long, because to his surprise, he was approached by her during the evening, when he was alone. “I want to handle the training of the disciples.” She stated more than asked, Jiang Fengmian hesitated, that was a mistake, “What? Don’t think I’m good enough to train Yunmeng Jiangs disciples? Not good enough as your-” he cut her off,

 “No! That’s not what I was thinking-” the original instructor had been hand picked and carried the legacy of his forefathers, how could he alter what was passed down for generations- “Did you speak over me!? Trying to silence me, are you? With how you married me as a substitute for her? Is that not it?? Is that why you’re so hesitant?? Or perhaps is it that I’m a woman and you’re scared-” what?? “My Lady! That’s not it at all! I-”

“Then prove it, or else it's not believable at all, what other reason would you have then, to think that I am somehow inferior in your mind?” Her words dripped with poison, her eyes locking onto him, eyes of a venomous spider, he raised up his hand to massage his forehead. “Its not that simple! The instructing handlers have been passed down through generations, I cannot just change it on a whim.”

And she leaned back, smug as if she had won the argument, “Then perhaps it is not I who is lacking.” He felt cold all over, the anger he felt giving him no warmth, insulting his friends, insulting him, and now his sect. “Third-Lady, please be careful of what you speak, careless words aren’t able to be taken back easily.” Her smile remained, “Who says these are careless words? I mean every one of them, your Sect teachings haven’t produced any excelling disciple for the past years, while other Sect’s flourish, give me the reigns and I’ll show you how its done.”

Not only accepting all her words as intentional, but also implying she could do better than the Jiang Sect’s teachings over hundreds of years, he realised more and more what sort of a person he had been tied down to, would it not be better to just end the marriage? He instead looked over her smug expression and took a deep breath, “Fine, but give me time.” She nodded and left at that, a means to an end, giving her the benefit of the doubt, he did not know at the time, would turn out to be one of his worst mistakes.

It took him months but he managed to get some disciples under Yu Ziyuan, but his concerns were not simply over the teachings, if Yu Ziyuan could act the way she did with him, well with disciples? So he supervised the training lessons, but again to his surprise, other than some curt words, she did not verbally attack them the way she had attacked him, so it wasn’t her behaviour in general, just with him.

Of course he had called over one of the disciples randomly, although nervous and stuttering, the boy had answered that the training was going quite well, and with no reports or complaints in the following months, he could not do anything but let the matter drop, with this however, the matter of their distance remained as it was.

Soon he found that she relocated the aides he had, he had been angry of course, and immediately gone to her. “Where did you send Li Feng and the rest? And with what authority, you have no right-” she cut him off slamming her hands on top of the table. “With authority as your wife!? Or have you forgotten who your wife is?? So what? Can’t I move around servants here??” the anger churned his insides more so than anything else. 

“Those people aren’t servants, Li Feng is my right-hand man, please refer to them respectfully.” He tried to speak as calmly as possible, she glared at him “As the Madam of this house, I can do however I want.” he pinched the bridge of his nose, looked at her, her violet eyes, and exhaled. “Every action I do is met with anger, scorn or contempt,” He began, voice devoid of previous anger, “Then perhaps we should part ways.” He finished and her expression changed.

Out went the anger from her glare, instead for the first time she looked at him with shock instead of rage, and it was the first time he heard her stutter. “F-Fengmian, you can’t…” He looked at her, much relaxed with his mind made up, “Third-Lady, we clearly aren’t meant to be, we are completely different.” He turned his back and made to leave, with his hand on the door handle, “How dare you do this to me?”

Still the same, he closed his eyes, “How dare you, when I work day and night to train your disciples, how dare you, when you agreed to marry me in the first place, if anything, it's all your fault these things happen!” She yelled and he turned to look at her in disbelief, she cried “Why did you marry me if you were going to abandon me later?? How dare you!” she grabbed the nearest object, a cup and threw it at him, but he caught it before it broke.

‘Your fault’ she said, how was it his fault with any of it?? With how she behaved- “Have I caused problems in your Sect?? Have I gone out of my way to harm your people? All I did was rearrange the schedule setting but you seem to think I have committed treason?!”

She looked at him with anger “Did you not approach me first on that day? I was fine in my own quarters but you had to approach me.” He did but it was for purpose of getting to know each other better!

“Then all I asked was to train your disciples, only to get your suspicion” She huffed angrily “Do you think think me blind? That I would not if you called them to check if I was abusing them?? What do you take me for exactly!?” She saw him staring wide-eyed and nodded “You don’t get to ask for separation when I’m one who has suffered, after I’ve worked so hard, you could make some efforts too, if you weren’t so obsessed with that woman, and hate me unreasonably for not being her, then perhaps you would know!” She left, slamming the door behind her.

Her words repeated over and over in his head, ‘your fault’, true he had approached her first that day...but..and again the thing with disciples, he felt guilt creeping up in his heart, he should have tried harder if she misunderstood him, he should have explained it better, in a few days he saw his aides once again under him, but instead of greeting him like they usually did, they looked at him as if a stranger. 

“Is everything alright?” He asked, Li Feng answered “Of course, Sect Leader.” He nodded, not noticing anything odd, except over the next month, he realised they were treating him distantly, he couldn’t share with them what was on his mind, nor any of his opinions, being met with “As Sect Leader wishes.” Was Yu Ziyuan right? Was he the one lacking in communication? But he never had Changze misunderstand him...

In his state, he did not notice rumours spreading about how Jiang Fengmian did not like Yu Ziyuan because he was ‘still in love with another woman’.

Most of time was spent busy with his work, not knowing how to face her again, days became months, he would sometimes reminisce over his past times, feeling guilt weighing him down and pain in his chest, there no reason for him to feel anything out of the ordinary, until one day, when he was sitting in his room while looking down at his garden, the flowers did not bloom, he thought, and he felt a wave of coldness wash over him

Thinking how the once lively Lotus Pier turned into a place of coldness for him, his wife refused to talk to him, his aides and friends looked at him with judgement in their eyes, and then the pain increased unnaturally, until he couldn’t help but take in deep breaths helping to no avail, and then he coughed.

He coughed and coughed until he could feel his lungs bleed and he tasted metal on his tongue, until he could feel thorns scratching his throat as he choked with panic overtaking him, barely able to breath he vomited, instead of feeling his blanket get wet from what he thought was bile, he opened his eyes to be greeted by flowers, lots of carnations, stargazer lilies and purple hyacinths mixed together, covered in blood and vines.

He laughed, he had not laughed since the day he got married to Yu Ziyuan, he laughed and laughed bitterly, tears forming in his eyes, he felt so alone, he thought ‘how good would it be if I could just leave?’, at least, he thought between breaths, at least they are alright, it had been a long time since he had heard from his friends.

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

A year had passed just like that, Yu Ziyuan’s angry scornful comments continued any time he so much as tried to speak to her that he gave up trying, his aides while weren’t exactly the same with him anymore, he did catch them staring at him with concern sometimes, few reassurances had them going back to work.

Hearing knocking at the door, with Yu Ziyuan’s “It’s me”, exhaustion filled him, and his heart skipped a beat with fear, of course it wasn’t that he was afraid of her, but her reaction, her words if she knew, he glanced once at the hiding place of the book and got up to open the door, tired as he did not want to face more of her tirades or whatever she wanted from him.

She walked in, eyes roaming over his room and sat on the edge of his bed, “Fengmian” she began, and he took a deep breath, she wanted to ask for something when she spoke like that, “What is it Third-Lady?” he asked, a bit resigned.

“The people have been talking.” She said a bit curtly, that phrase always sent his thoughts back to when they first talked, and since whenever she uttered it, it was almost always followed by anger, he did not like it at all.

Though reluctant, he still asked weakly “About what, Third-Lady?” she looked away. “Heirs” With that one word, he felt a surge of that unpleasant coldness forming in the pit of his stomach. “‘Heirs?’” he repeated, he had known that one day he would have to consummate their relationship, and he had foolishly avoided it being brought up, with what reason could he deny this?

“Make up your mind, people have been talking, how Fengmian has not touched his wife since her arrival.” She said, turning to look at her, the violet of her eyes made him sick, his thoughts filled with the purple hyacinths covered in blood, he felt breath come short to his lungs. “Give me time, Third-Lady.” He whispered weakly, and winced when he realised it was the wrong thing to say as her expression twisted.

“Do you hear yourself? Always ‘give me time’ whenever I ask you for something, haven’t I given you enough time to come to yourself? Always dazed nowadays!” She snapped and he flinched, “Third-Lady no! I-” She interrupted “Don’t speak over me!” She got up, and walked closer to him, prompting him to take a step back. 

“You, always yearning for your beloved it it?” She sniffed and he felt his heart drop, she couldn’t possibly have known, he went alone and- “You...you had people following me??” He whispered, angered, afraid, he did not know what he was feeling, except that he wanted to be far far away from her. Were it the people he once called his aides? 

“Does it matter? Who knows when you’d meet up with that wh-” He slammed his hand on the door “Third-Lady, please leave.” He said taking in deep breaths to keep the pain at bay, “Just go” He added when a look of anger overcame her yet again “Fengmian you-” he didn’t let her speak. “You want heirs? Heirs right? Let's talk about that later, out” He pointed to the door, she bit her lips but ultimately left, knowing her words wouldn’t be needed any more having accomplished what she came for.

He closed the door and tried to move to the inside of the room, where he coughed, coughed until blood poured down his mouth, blood until the purple flowers fell from his mouth, it was getting worse than before, he huffed and washed clean the blood, washed cleaned the flowers, a drawer he opened, entirely filled with violet flowers, a reminder of the fool he had been. 

He sat on his knees as he stared them, despair heavy on his face,  “Ah Changze, what am I supposed to do?”

So, they shared the moment of what should have been their wedding night, he left as soon as morning came, with the urge to vomit yet again at his throat, and it was not entirely due to the diseases spike, he would hope that was the one and only moment time they would ever have to take part in matrimonial duties, for her cutting words didn’t ever seem to hold back, no matter the occasion.

Months passed and confirmation came that she was with child, it was a relief to him, less about acquiring an heir and more not having to deal with the woman, except in her state she was more unbearable than ever but he couldn’t say anything, for he would be met with her rant of “You did this to me!” From her, he fulfilled her every wish, but he couldn’t think to be with her in the same room for more than a few minutes, without bile rising to his throat.

But when the day of the birth came, he sat as she held his arm, as she screamed in pain, that was the least he could do as her husband, suppressing all moments of disgust he felt upon her touch, and after hours and hours, he got to hold his daughter while her mother took rest, and his heart filled with love, his little one, she was his dearest child, Jiang Yanli.

For a few days, things seemed better, Yu Ziyuan seemed to hold back on her anger, he assumed she had been happy as well, how wrong he had been, when she came to him and spoke about betrothal with her Sworn Sister, Madam Jin of Jin Sect, and he felt disbelief coursing his veins and it was the first time he truly raised his voice at her. “No.” he said firmly, no matter how much she yelled or screamed, he refused.

He had said, “Her marriage will done with her own choice, no matter what.” he thought later that had been a mistake, because Yu Ziyuan started to arrange play-dates between Yanli and the Jin heirs son, he still refused, until Jiang Yanli herself came to him, claiming she loved the boy she saw but barely knew anything of, if she did, she would have seen the disdain the boy held for prospect of marriage, the same disdain he saw in Yu Ziyuan.

The woman came to him again, “A-Li likes him, or are you going to deny what you had said?”  He wanted to argue, Yanli was barely old enough to understand but knowing Yu Ziyuan, he knew there was no way she would give up, so he agreed, hoping to break it off later in the future, when Yanli was old enough to understand, his daughter would know that there was no love lost between her and the boy.

Until her 3rd birthday, when it became more and more obvious that Yanli could not form a core, and Yu Ziyuan’s anger burned again, he tried to keep Yanli around him more than her, but when she came asking to talk to her daughter, as her mother, he could not refuse, his daughter usually looked down instead of looking at her.

One of those days, when Yu Ziyuan had come to ask, Jiang Yanli held tightly on his clothes and looked at him with her light coloured eyes, Ziyuan’s purple reminded him of poison, of those hyacinths in his lungs, and Yanli’s reminded him of those purple lotuses, that he had grown with love, he made an excuse, and the woman huffed away, “Fine, send her over later then.” He did not, “She was tired.” He said calmly, when Yu Ziyuan later yelled at him.

They had to share the bed once more when the question of heirs was brought up, and he had spent the rest of the day in his room, vomiting, sick to his stomach, both the blood and the food, for the first time since Yanli’s birth. As usual, he cleaned up without letting anyone know.

Nearing the evening, he heard a light knock at his door. “Father?” He heard, Yanli call out, he got up to open the door, and invited his little daughter in, “Father’s not well?” she questioned as she climbed up onto his lap, he patted her head lovingly. “Father is okay. A-Li does not have to worry, but he wonders what has she been doing? I saw her go to the kitchen earlier today.” He pretended to be puzzled.

“A-Li learnt how to make soup from Old Fa!” She said excitedly, holding her hands together. “But Mother says its a servant’s job, she doesn’t like it.” She wilted and he looked at her directly. “Father would love to eat a-li’s soup.” She looked at him hopefully, “I know it’d taste delicious!” She cheered up. 

“I made it for father today.” She ran out and came back with a bowl filled with what was..the soup. He drank it anyway and gave a strained smile, “Could use a little less salt” He choked out, and her smile was worth it.

Weeks passed peacefully, he was with Yanli in the kitchen, watching as Old Fa taught her how to knead, cooking was one of the few things that brought a smile to her face, seeing her so excited, he relaxed as well, until Yu Ziyuan joined them, he hadn’t expected her to, given her mindset of it being a servants job,  “A-Li you’re doing it wrong.” She said after watching her for a moment, in the same tone of voice as she used when training disciples.

“A-Xuan won’t like it if all you can do is cook, come with me to the training grounds.” She said, he cut her off “A-Li doesn’t have to do everything for him.” And Yu Ziyuan turned to him “If you want her to do a servant job then that's on you, she’s my daughter too, and as the daughter of Violet Spider, she should be able to fight! Not partaking in these weak acts-” He cut her off “Third Lady! Control your words!”

Before he could say more, soft sniffles cut him off, he looked at his daughter, her hands still inside the dough, tears she was trying to wipe on her shoulder, “Third-Lady is not allowed in the kitchen anymore.” He said and watched Old Fa escort her out, not before Yu Ziyuan shouted, “You cannot keep me from training my daughter!” She yelled as if he had ordered her banishment instead.

“No one is keeping you, if you have nothing good to say to a-li, it's better if you stay away from her, Third-Lady, take the day to cool off” He nodded towards the door, “Fine! If you want your daughter to be a weak-” he cut her off “Third-Lady! Leave.” She threw one last look at them and left fuming.

He knelt next to his daughter, pulled her into a hug. “A-Li is sorry Father!” She sobbed, and rubbed her back “A-Li doesn’t have to be sorry, a-li’s mother should be saying sorry.”

“Mother says father doesn’t like a-li” She said after calming down a bit “Because a-li looks like her mother-” he pulled back to look at her in the eye and enunciated his every word, “A-Li is not her mother, a-li is my beloved daughter, and I love everything a-li does” He told her comfortingly. 

“A-Li is not weak, a-li is peaceful, there is strength in nurturing and kindness.” Yanli finally seemed to calm down, hiccuping but not sobbing anymore, he wiped her tears away and smiled “Father loves a-li a lot.” he said as he kissed the top of her head.

---------

And then the day came when Yanli’s little sibling came into the world, accompanied by just as much of screaming, but less hours lost, Yanli cooed over her little brother, a tiny little thing in her mother’s arms, she reached out and lightly pressed his cheek, “So small.” Her father chuckled and said “A-Li was also this small when she was born.” Yu Ziyuan showed a rare smile as well, “His name will be Jiang Cheng.” She said.

Things went a bit smoothly after that, even though Ziyuan was the same as always Yanli his beloved daughter was eight years old, and his son, Jiang Cheng was four, his core formed well and he thought Yu Ziyuan had been happy, so he had not expected when she was walked into his room and started yelling,

 “Why are you ostracising your son!? Yanli’s going to be married into Jin Sect and yet you spend time coddling her! And you don’t spend the same amount of time with your son?”

He really hadn’t expected her random onslaught, nor where she was coming from, his son was working hard, and he had overlooked his training personally, teaching him the Jiang teachings along with Yu Ziyuan’s own training. “Oh is it because I’m his mother? Because you cannot handle seeing your own son when you want to see a son with her-” Where was she coming from, he felt horrified, “Third-Lady! What’re you saying!?”

The door swung open and their son, Jiang Cheng stood shocked, scared at being caught and tears in his eyes, before he ran away. He turned to her disgust forming heavy, before leaving her where she stood spluttering how she didn’t mean for him to hear her.

He found his son sobbing as Yanli comforted him in his room. “Mother doesn’t mean it.” Yanli told him as she rubbed his back, “She loves you.” He only sobbed louder, “But she’s right, Father likes you more because he hates me. He likes that boy more-” Yanli looked as if she didn’t know what to say, and Fengmian felt confused, who were they talking about?

“No, I absolutely, do not.” He said and his children froze and turned to him, “You do! Why do you make me work more than everyone else!?” His son got up, and lightly started punching him from where he reached his knees while he sobbed, Jiang Fengmian, placed a hand on his shoulder, suppressing the pain in his heart and lungs.

“Because A-Cheng is going to be the Sect Leader, A-Cheng needs to be strong.” He said evenly as his son shook his head. “That’s not what you said to Jie!” and ran to his bed, “A-Cheng listen-” His son turned to look at him with anger “If you did then you wouldn’t have that disease!”

Jiang Fengmian stared at him, too shocked to feel anything. How? Or Why? Did she tell them that?! How did she even- his thoughts cut off as he thought back, if she could send people tailing him, what couldn’t she do? 

He looked at his daughter who avoided his gaze, “A-Li?” she answered silently “Mother said Father would replace him for-” She frowned, trying to remember a name, “‘Wei Ying’, the son of your-” She sneaked a peak at him “Your ‘beloved’.” And looked away, as if feeling guilt.

“A-Li, no, I love you both, how can she-” Yanli nodded, “I know that you love us, but A-Cheng thinks Father doesn’t like him because of Mother…” she hesitated. “And that you regret it wasn’t someone else, instead.”

He regretted, he regretted letting his children near Yu Ziyuan’s poisonous words, but the only regret was Yu Ziyuan, not his love for his children, it was not something he would ever regret, he didn’t even know Wei Changze had a son. 

“A-Li” He began gently, knowing A-Cheng was listening when his shaking under the blanket stopped, “They were my friends, like you and-” He thought for a second, “-like you and A-Cheng, we grew up together but they were my friends, and you’re my children, I love you both.” He kissed the top of her head and her shoulders dropped in what could only be relief, and reached up to pat Jiang Cheng’s head under the blanket, and left them for a moment.

He knocked on Yu Ziyuan’s door, only to find it open and empty, he walked inside and opened the cabinets and drawers until he found what he was looking for, for her to know she must have- and there they were.

Pages over pages, written in a familiar writing, ranging from containing details of travels, requesting permission to visit, to mentions of ‘Wei Ying’s’ birth, he felt tears form in his own eyes, with his heart filled with overwhelming pain and indignation, he now understood her random bursts, they were each time a letter was received, over jealousy-

Before he could go out and confront her, the pain in his lungs became unbearable, he choked and coughed, no matter how much he tried to restrain it, he coughed until he collapsed to his knees, why now? His body heated up feeling thorns tear at this lungs and throat. 

He could barely breath as he vomited, vision fading from the corner of his eyes, he was confused until he caught a look of the flowers he coughed, pure black roses mixed with the hyacinths, the rose thorns dripping with blood, no sign of lilies and carnations, his heart and soul filled with agony and he cried, and then he knew nothing more.

When he woke up, he felt nothing, he knew he hated Yu Ziyuan, but he felt nothing but blank emptiness, when he stared at the woman standing at the door, his children on either side of his bed. “Oh good, that you’re awake.” She hissed as if he was an inconvenience and he found no rage, and he nodded calmly instead.

He knew his friends had passed but he did not, could not feel grief, he knew he loved his children, so he reached out with both his hands, patting them as they muttered apologies while sobbing. “It wasn’t your fault, father was a bit sad, and was already sick, but he’s well now.” He said gently, and once the children left, he looked at the woman who was his wife and said “I’ll bring A-Ying back.”

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

Authors note

Jfm knew he cared for Wei Ying, yet he felt nothing.

He knew he loved his children, he felt nothing,

He knew he hated his wife, yet he felt, nothing.

---------

So yesterday i was looking through @angstymdzsthoughts  and came across platonic hanahaki and thought hey sounds angsty, and thought ‘hey what if jfm had platonic hanahaki for cangse sanren and wei changze?’ i deliberately tried to keep it ambiguous which one he was in love with XD Madam Yu kept assuming and he didn’t give a fuk about correcting her, also like i couldnt bring myself to even write them spending the night together idk y, took a lot of effort lol. Started out with thinking hanaki, got more of JFM’s descent to feeling nothing oof.

Also like it turned out more focus on the fact that even before wwx was brought to lp, there would still be yzy biching and making everyone miserable so-

[rax-writes]

Full Circle

Fandom:  The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

Pairing:  Nicholas Scratch x Reader

Warnings:  None

Notes:  This is based on a song that’s become popular very recently, so you could try to determine what it is as you read, if you want. I’ll link the song at the end in case you didn’t figure it out, or to listen to the song if you’ve never heard it. ☺

Being a hopeless romantic was practically a curse for a witch. Your kind wasn’t made for love. Lust, desire, sex – all of those things came easily for witches and warlocks. But love was a different matter entirely. You knew it was foolish to allow that particular emotion to creep into your heart, but all the mortal romance novels you’d read left you willing to be foolish.

A few months after engaging in a strictly sexual relationship with Nicholas Scratch, you confessed to him that you no longer wished to continue the affair unless he was willing to incorporate romance into the mix. He was hesitant at first, but didn’t want to lose the way your attention and affection made him feel important, valued, and cared for, so he complied. He took you on dates, bought you flowers every Tuesday, let you wear his jacket, cuddled together as you watched movies and read magical novels. He even wrote a poem for you, which he turned into a song with some assistance from the acoustic guitar he borrowed from the choir instructor. The dashing warlock swept you off your feet, and you had never been happier.

Then Sabrina Spellman came into the picture.

You truly had nothing against the plucky, young, promising witch. It was Nick who posed a problem. Ever since she arrived at the Academy, you felt him slipping away from you. He stopped buying you flowers. The dates became few and far between. He slowly took each of his jackets back. But all the while, he used that enthralling, silken voice of his to supply you with thinly-veiled lies of reassurance.

“There’s nothing between Sabrina and I, babe. And besides, she has a mortal boyfriend. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, alright?”

It wasn’t long before his story changed.

“Being with you has been amazing, and you’ve opened my mind to the possibility of love for our kind. I love you so much, and I always will, but…. I won’t lie to you, there’s someone else. And I can’t, in good conscience, stay with you while having feelings for another person. That’s not fair to you. I’m sorry…. I’m so sorry.”

The contradiction of Nick’s lie of reassurance and his words as he crushed your heart never left your mind… nor did your love for him. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake how much your heart yearned for his touch, his kiss, his scent, his voice. It felt like a knife in the chest when you saw him and Sabrina together, shortly after the break up, and you weren’t the least bit surprised that she turned out to be the “someone else.” Nick constantly looked at her with more love and adoration than he’d ever shown you, and it never ceased to hurt.

Nevertheless, you did the only thing you could: you carried on. Ignored the pain. Shoved your unyielding love for him to the back of your mind. You continued your studies, and your dedication to the coven. You aided your cohorts, even Sabrina, in all of the coven’s efforts. Unfortunately, that included helping Nick become a flesh Acheron for Satan, then saving him, and watching from the sidelines as he struggled to cope with the lingering effects of being trapped in his own body with the Devil. Eventually, there came a time when the coven experienced a small dose of reprieve. Hecate became your new deity, the coven’s powers were restored, the Pagans had been driven out of Greendale, and all seemed to be right with the world. Drinking away your troubles, alone in your room with a hundred-year-old bottle of Scotch, had sounded like a fine way to spend a Monday evening – until Nick walked up to you, as you sat outside on the stairs of the Academy, enjoying the cool night air.

“Hey.”

One word. One, simple word was all he mustered up to say to you, despite the fact that it was your first private exchange since the break up. So, you merely echoed it.

“Hey.”

Nick just stood there, before joining you on the stairs, a few feet away from you. The two of you sat there in silence for several minutes before you became the first to speak again.

“Don’t you have some pretty blonde to be hanging out with right now? You know, the one who always made me doubt, yet you constantly assured me I had nothing to worry about?” you retorted, the liquor in your system acting as a conduit for your raw truth. You let out a dry, bitter laugh. “In all honesty, I suppose I can’t blame you for choosing her over me. She’s so much more powerful and skilled than I am. Now that I think about it, she’s the personification of everything I’m insecure about.”

Nick looked at you with sorrowful eyes, before looking away again, as if he couldn’t bear to look at you and see how much pain you were in, even after all this time.

“Sabrina and I broke up.”

The hot mess mixture of feelings that flooded you was practically dizzying. Admittedly, his statement initially filled you with hope. Perhaps this meant he’d give being with you another shot? This was immediately followed by anger – first toward yourself, for being so stupidly optimistic and naïve, then toward him. Did he come here to tell you that, assuming you’d forgive him and everything would go back to the way things were, as if you would be excited to be the consolation prize?

Too dazed by the dichotomy of your thoughts, you said nothing in response. He took your silence as an invitation to continue.

“Turns out, we were a lot less compatible than I originally thought. I thought she was the one. I was willing to die for her…” Nick mused, then trailed off before exhaling and continuing. “I didn’t die, but I did do something much worse – all for her. It didn’t matter in the end, though. We just weren’t meant for each other.”

“You have a lot of nerve to come to me thinking I give a single, solitary fuck about your feelings for her,” you snapped, and your eyes met for a moment then, but he averted his gaze. There was a poignant and tense silence before he spoke again.

“Can I ask you something?” Nick inquired, appearing extremely pensive. “Did you ever stop loving me?”

“No. Not for a second, despite my best efforts,” you replied honestly, and he smiled sadly at your quip as he looked down. “I know we weren’t perfect, but I’ve never felt this way about anyone. That’s why I can’t imagine how you were so okay when I was gone, after we’d broken up…. I guess you didn’t mean what you wrote in that song about me. Because you said ‘forever,’ now I spend every day alone and missing you.”

“I meant every word of that song,” Nick replied earnestly.

“Please don’t, Nick. Let’s just end this conversation here. I don’t even know why we’re discussing this,” you whispered, shaking your head and closing your eyes, as if that would somehow prevent his words from sinking in. You stood and took a couple steps toward the door of the Academy.

“Will you please just hear me out?”

“Why should I?” you yelled, turning to him with a blend of hurt and rage written all over your face, although the rage was what overcame your voice.

“Because I still fucking love you!” Nick shouted, his voice ripe with conviction. He exhaled loudly, then ran his hands over his face and leaned back on the staircase. “In that song, I wrote that I’d love you forever. And you may find it hard to believe, but I’ve never stopped loving you. I won’t deny that I loved Sabrina too, but I’ve realized with hindsight that it was a combination of infatuation and love – more so infatuation. But with you, it was only ever love. A deep, genuine, natural, true love.”

You found yourself somewhere between confused and shocked. What he said made no sense to you, because you’d spent this long believing that he hadn’t given you a second thought since getting with Sabrina. Yet here he was, pouring his heart out to you, and telling you that he still loves you.

Nick stood and took a couple steps toward you, now arm’s length away.

“I know I don’t deserve it, so I won’t fault you in the least if you say no, but…. Would you be willing to give me another chance?”

You looked at him then – really looked at him. You studied him thoroughly, and stared deep into those big, brown eyes of his, which held so much vulnerability, contrition, pain… and love.

“Don’t fuck it up this time, Scratch. I’ll take your life if you do. That’s a promise.”

The very next morning, a beautiful bouquet of blood red roses awaited you in the hallway outside your bedroom door.

Driver’s License – Olivia Rodrigo

[yasmeensh]

Zelda 2 - Mystery of Kasuto

Yet again, with more Zelda 2 lore. Since winter break started, I went back to working on my Zelda 2 comic again (it’s been years but I’m still going at it haha). I collected a LOT of information from within the game and from other loz games. I’m at the last stages of getting all the information needed for a fully fledged story (My aim with this comic project is to flesh out the world of Hyrule in the era of decline. Make it feel like the newer Zelda games in terms of lore and plot, but also keep its’ classic essence). HOWEVER! Before I get ahead with outlining a full story, there is one thing that needs to be sorted out. that is, Kasuto Town. Deciding on Kasuto town’s identity will entirely change the aesthetic of the story, how the people will be represented, and even the lore of the Zelda2 pre-story (sleep-cursed Princess Zelda) I’ve spent a while collecting evidence and clues for my theory. I was not sure if I should go ahead with it and solidify it for the comic, so I want to share it and hear what opinions, additions, or contradictions any of you would have. I’m very interested to hear what you have to say on it! Anyways, without further ado, here is the theory:

The basic idea is that Kasuto People are Sheikah. (Disclaimer: This is just a theory and entirely speculative. The aim to try to make sense of Kasuto town with the established canon information we know and fit it to the wider loz world.)

1. Location of Kasuto Town

There are two Kasuto towns. A deserted Kasuto, and a hidden Kasuto.

From what we know of the Sheikah history leading to the downfall timeline, is that The Hyrulean Civil War (Pre-OOT) nearly wiped out all of the Sheikah population. Kakariko was their original settlement, but has since been opened to everyone. So, where did all the Sheikah go? Only Impa is around. WELL, perhaps since the events of the civil war, they decided to take residence far away from Hyrule Castle, and only send their most capable every generation to care for the Princess (Which is always the new Impa). Impa always shows up again as a nursemaid for Princess Zelda in the downfall timeline.

Additionally, as protectors of The Royal Family, it works out how their town is situated next to the entrance to the Great Palace, where the final Triforce is kept (To keep an extra eye on who ventures there?).

Not entirely sure why Kasuto was destroyed. Did Ganon know about the Triforce of Courage being around there? Did he attack them with an army of Moas while they fought to keep him away? This might have led them to go into hiding. They are the only ones who know all the secrets of Hyrule. They need to survive in order to preserve it.

2. Magic

There are two spells taught in the Kasuto towns. One of them makes a small temple (shrine?) come out of the ground. The other spell is the strongest spell in the entire game (thunder).

^ This is the building that emerges from deep underground after using the ‘Spell’. (He finds the magic key there. A key that can open pretty much every door ever. Or at least the palace doors). What IS strange about Kasuto though, is that the palace situated between the towns has an item that acts almost exactly like the Lens of Truth; It’s a cross that allows Link to see ghosts. (In OOT it does the same thing, in addition to looking through false doors and floors. It’s used to track down the Phantom guide in the haunted wasteland). A little suspicious, no? (PS. I’ve been thinking about redesigning the cross item for the comic, and I SWEAR the three parts at the top can easily be made to look like the Sheikah eyelash symbol. Voila) This could all merely be coincidence, but the location next to the Great Palace AND the three-eye-rock palace containing the cross is convenient to make us assume it’s connected to them in some way, especially with the later established lore of the Sheikah.

3. Technology

Ok. bear with me. This is a big one. This will be the game changer. If we can solidify that these Sheikah are just as technologically advanced as the Sheikah in botw, this will completely change how they could be interpreted in the comic.

For starters, only the Sheikah know the details of the legend of Zelda. And here I quote from the Zelda 2 1988 manual:

“There was a door in the North Castle called “The door that does not open.” Only the descendants of the Impa family who served the King knew how to open the door.”

As we could see, access to the chamber and scrolls that provide information on the palaces and Triforce is only accessible to the Sheikah. A private affair between the royal family and Sheikah ONLY? The King that separated the Triforce is the one that was in-charge of building all 7 palaces. Because the Sheikah work closely with the Royal Family, they must be 100% involved (Also, remember how Kasuto town has the magical key that can open all doors in the palaces?) OKAY NOW HERE IS THE TECHNOLOGY PART The elevators. The Elevators.

For the longest time I told myself it must be some kind of pully system. But after I started thinking about Kasuto as being Sheikah, and their heavy involvement with the palaces, I’m starting to think that maybe these are actually electrical (or magical. idk what it is) powered elevators. Sort of like in Breath of the Wild. There is also Rebonack, the Island palace boss with his floating robot horse

Maybe.... Maybe the ironknuckles and doomknockers are also robots? For all we know, they are just heavily armored... things. With no face. We know construction on the palaces must have begun sometime at the end of the Golden Era. That was the time when the Royal Family possessed the full Triforce for countless generations. It was the most prosperous Hyrule has EVER been (in the downfall timeline at least). The Sheikah might have had the time to advance their technology? It’s not too far fetched. After such a long time of prosperity, the King found that there was no one worthy of the full Triforce to continue this golden age (He was scared of his wicked son it seems) so he started this whole project to hide away the Triforce of courage.

(It’s interesting in a way how that King saw that the chaos caused by a separated Triforce is much merciful than the consequences of the full Triforce falling into the wrong hands. It mirrors Princess Zelda’s decision when she broke the Triforce of wisdom into 8 pieces so Ganon can’t have it. She really is wise for a small child. As wise as the ancient king.) Well, what are your thoughts? Would it be plausible that the people at Kasuto are truly the Sheikah? Is it possible that the palaces have technology? This is pretty crucial for the development of this comic project 👀 It will completely change how the palaces will be portrayed, the enemies, and the entire Kasuto settlements (plus if Impa is affiliated with them). WOULD you be fine with such an interpretation? SHARE YOUR THROUGHTS!

[abduct-me-helen]

Class 108's Apocalypse Field Trip | Chapter 1.

The world ended on a Tuesday. Quite suddenly, halfway through class. After the sky split open and green light bathed the earth, things changed. Some lived.

Some didn’t.

Class 108 stayed together, for the most part. They took up a base in the school, and boarded up the windows and doors.

Sydney was the one who first learned they didn’t need to eat. Other revelations of that sort followed. Sleep was not needed, nor was water. Air seemed to be, though, as they learned after Cal passed out from holding their breath.

The first one to die was Cú.

They don’t talk about Cú.

-

Of course, some things are unavoidable in the end. Logically, Sydney knew it was only a matter of time before something managed to slip under the cracks and they’d all get killed; god knows they’d narrowly scraped by enough times to be considered cosmically lucky. Tabitha had been spreading rumors, as was her nature, about the school itself being sentient, trapping them inside with false promises of safety.

On the worse days, Sydney believed it.

Sydney stepped into the classroom slowly, craning her head to where Tabitha and Rosie were explaining their theories. She didn’t know which theories, but she’d heard most of them by now.

“G’morning.” She said.

It was night.

No, she thought, the sky is dark, but that doesn’t mean it’s night.

Rosie gestures towards a desk, and she avoids the chair toppled over at her feet as she sits down on top of it. She takes not of who else had decided to attend this “session” of theirs today. There are 12 students left out of the thirty who had originally made up the class. Ten of them had disappeared after running away from the school in shock after the eye in the sky had first opened. They hadn’t been in homeroom during the “blink,” which is what they’d taken to call the eye opening, and hadn’t seen any teachers since that day.

She remembered it vividly.

Ms. Bruis had tensed, eyes wide in shock, before telling them to calm down and stay indoors. She immediately went outside the room to check on everyone else.

That was the last time they’d seen Ms. Bruis, but not the last time they’d seen her face.

Besides the initial chaos, there wasn’t anything attacking the school. It was just shouting and screaming and running. Sydney had stayed in the classroom, clumsily trying to close the blinds on the window.

People just, left. And they didn’t come back.

The first venture was when they lost Cú. She doesn’t like to talk about him, never mind think about him. Nonetheless, her mind often drifts towards his death.

It was about four hours after the chaos. People had been nearly sucked out of the building, teachers included. The only ones that remained were the thirty students of 108.

Sydney didn’t know why they were the only ones to remain. She still doesn’t now.

The students decided to have a short party go out and scout. Sydney, Katie, Cú, Tabitha and Rosie. Four survived, one did not.

Rosie was always the thinker of the group, and as such she took the front. Katie was chosen for her seemingly nonchalant disposition to going, and Tabitha for her mind, which was always going too fast and often arriving at far-out conclusions. Despite this, she was a quick-witted person and had been selected for her dexterity and speed. Cú was selected for his physicality. He was a teddy bear, but a strong teddy bear.

It didn’t save him in the end.

And Sydney, well, she was cautious. She wonders if she could’ve saved Cú if she’d been just a little bit wearier.

They wandered a few blocks before hearing the sound of skin and bone splitting. Tabitha immediately ran toward the sound, as was her nature. The rest, Rosie at the lead, followed, hiding behind a corner.

Katie didn’t make a face, but even she was visibly pale.

When the sound came again, louder, and a creature made of wet flesh and twisted muscle stepped out of the alleyway, she became practically white.

Sydney retched. She’s not ashamed to admit it, you would’ve too. Anyone would’ve retched if they saw that sight.

It got worse.

“Hello?! Someone! Help me, please!”

It was Ms. Bruis-no, it looked like Ms. Bruis.

Cú ran. He dodged the creature, running to Ms. Bruis and starting to try to pick her up off the ground, before he noticed she was rooted to the cement. His eyes widened as blood ran down her face

She smirked.

Sydney will always remember the flash of teeth before she plunged her hand-no, her claw-into his stomach. He made a choked sound before the creature bounded back over and ripped his jaw clean off.

They ran. They ran. They ran.

And then they came back to the classroom, and they wept.

There were more expeditions after that. They lost seven more after that, but in those ventures, they collected knowledge. This knowledge went on Rosie’s list, though it also doubled as a rulebook.

-

THE LIST

1. Some creatures can make copies of people you know in order to trick you. They don’t bleed, so your best shot at not meeting eyeball daddy up close is to yeet the fuck outta there//bold of you to assume I don’t want to meet eyeball daddy uwu//

2. Don’t trust meat. Ever. Meat comes alive. WE ARE VEGANS IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 2018(?)

3. Don’t answer the door, even if you’re armed. No, Eric, we do not count your big muscles™ as a weapon.

4. If you MUST answer the door, don’t. You have been stopped.

5. A short section on the happenings of the places(?) known to us as “nightmares.”

Nightmares trap humans in these crazy places. We’ve only seen two, but they are extremely dangerous, and both encounters ended in casualties. They trap your mind and make you experience terrible things, and like the rest of the world (to our knowledge at least) don’t follow normal time or space rules. Basically, if you want to avoid a ,’ , |,’_’, you should not screw with that shit.

6. Always check with someone else before eating or drinking. Sometimes, your mind will play tricks on you and you won’t notice that you’re eating something…not good. Honor cal for their sacrifice regarding this matter (sorry cal)

7. Always shut the blinds. Eyeball daddy is watching you//YOU DID NOT NEED TO SAY THAT TABITHA

8. Don’t leave the building without consulting all of class 108.

9. Don’t read books that others haven’t read first, especially if it says it’s from the library of Jurgen LeitnerSTUPID IDIOT MOTHERFUCKING JURGEN LEITENER GOD DAMN FOOL BOOK COLLECTING DUST EATING RAT OLD BASTARD SHITHEAD IDIO//yes, Riko, we get it, but good point. Be Jared, 19.

10. Don’t invite anyone in.

-

“What are we on today?” Sydney asked.

“Tabitha’s on about the categories again.” Cal said.

“I really think it could work!” she said loudly. “Look, there’s consistencies in every single encounter we’ve had. Think about it. Remember what happened at the theater?”

Katie grimaced silently. “How could we forget?”

Tabitha ignored her. “The webs. Spiders and the rest of those insects are different categories. The wriggly silver worms are more like, bugs and wriggly things and judging from the infestation we had they all work together.”

“Like a hive?” Cal asked.

Tabitha nodded. “Exactly like that. Spiders are different though; you saw how many were crawling about during the amphitheater incident. And that whole thing was about control. All those people who were laughing…they, they were there. They didn’t want to do it! They didn’t want to laugh, you saw their eyes. They were being controlled. And when,” she paused, gritting her teeth, “and when Marcy died she was being controlled too. Puppeted.”

That’s two. Then we come to the next one, guns and murder and war and shit like that. Simple enough. But I think it has to be humans killing humans, because the thing that killed, killed Cú wasn’t like that. It was, it was different. I don’t know. I’ll get back to that.

“Then we have the cover up, or the anonymous things. Things like those little creatures that hide in your plates that you can’t notice are there until someone tells you. That’s why I’m confused, because I think the weird fleshy creature we faced was aligned with that but also with those meat things that broke Rosie’s leg. I don’t know how to explain it, but, ah. Sorry. I think they’re the same category.”

“I’ll humor you; can a thing be two categories?” Katie questioned her dully.

“I think so. Maybe it’s like colors? Really angry colors. They’re all separate, but the same because they’re all made of the same stuff. And they all blur together sometimes?”

“Yeah,” Katie snorted, “we’re being killed by really angry colors.”

Tabitha flushed. “Hey! It was just an analogy.”

Rosie seemed to be considering what Tabitha had said, before she looked up. “I believe you.”

“Y-you do?” Tabitha blinked, taken back.

Rosie nodded. “It makes sense. Really angry colors.”

“Really angry colors.”

-

A few hours-well, time was weird, but Sydney supposed it was hours-later, the class was doing yoga. Well, not “yoga” per se. They were beating each other on the head with torn up yoga mats.

“Hey!” Riko shouted as Tabitha tripped over her mat while chasing Cal. “Watch it! This is where I sleep!”

Tabitha stuck her tongue out and Katie snorted, not looking up from her book. Sydney wondered how she did that; Katie always seemed to have an astounding amount of situational awareness at all times.

“Real mature.” Katie groused.

Tabitha grinned, and Rosie smiled softly.

“I’M GOING TO MAKE YOU MEET EYEBALL DADDY!” she shouted to Cal, who’s eyes widened in mock fear.

“Oh no! The horror! OwO!” They said dramatically.

“Did they just say “OwO”?” Sydney asked in a deadpan. Rosie nodded solemnly.

“You ever wonder…” Sydney trailed off, the muffled shouting of their peers drowned out into the background.

“Wonder what?” Rosie tilted her head in question.

“What happened to Mr. Sims.”

“He’s probably…not with us anymore.”

“Yeah. Still, could you imagine? He was a bloody cryptid. He’d probably take all this with no sweat.”

“Maybe he’d give us concerts too.”

“Good ole Jonny D’Ville.”

Rosie snickered.

“You know how he always drew eyes everywhere? During tests?”

“Oh god, don’t mention that to Tabitha, I don’t need her going on about another conspiracy.”

Sydney grinned to herself and Rosie groaned.

“Well, I was thinking, maybe it was an omen.”

“An omen?”

“Yeah. I’ve never been spiritual really, but the worlds gone to shit so who knows what’s real. Maybe the Mayans were just a few days off.”

“Ah, the apocalypse calendar.”

“Indeed.”

-

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

A noise rang out from the entrance to the school, loud and imposing. Sydney’s heart started to thump wildly in terror.

They all shot up, and Katie got her switchblade out from her pocket. She was lucky enough to have it on her at the blink, and it was their best weapon.

Cypress shot inside the classroom silently, eyes wide, red curls bouncing. He clicked the door shut quietly, pale. “The others sent me. They’re hiding in place. I think we should just stay put.”

Rosie nodded, gesturing him to come over. She placed a finger over her lips in order to get them to stay silent, then nodded to Katie. Katie had always been gifted with really good hearing, and it had saved their assess more than enough times for Rosie to know that letting her try to hear who was at the door was the best safe bet for situation and the time being.

Katie closed her eyes, but after a quarter of a minute shook her head.

That’s when they heard it.

“Hello!”

Sydney brought a hand to her mouth to clamp down a scream.

It was Cypress.

Eyes wide, she glanced over to Cypress, her Cypress, who’s expression was now glazed over. Was his skin always that waxy? Why was his hair so smooth? It looked like that of a dolls, curls made of softly bent plastic.

Katie saw the flicker of light before she saw the blade, and she lunged.

Her switchblade pierced his skin-no, his stuffing, with a sound akin to ripping a toy. It didn’t seem to stop this not-Cypress.

Oh god, Sydney thought, today is the day I die.

There was a sound like static now in the air, and the faint smell of burning. Sydney began to feel sick, almost lightheaded.

The door swung open, and Sydney whipped her head around to see Cypress, who was trailed by…Mr. Sims?

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Black - Chapter 7

Yes, I still am not done with this irregular, random, weird travel blog...

Fandom: the Hobbit

Characters : Thorin x OC, many others

Setting: Before the unexpected journey lol

Rating : Mature (not yet...still...but a little)

Warnings: none, it's just light-hearted silliness

It's a longish chapter (around 4k words...sorry)

“All is well, Master Dwalin. Do not distress yourself!” She called out to the vision of prowess stomping towards her.

She would not necessarily be welcome here, she knew, but it made her feel safer already to know that, at the very least, they would not have looked on as she was raped and murdered by some stranger.

“The lass has chased away a grown man with a tree branch. Aye, she might be well assorted to Oakenshield.” Balin laughed, carrying the infant easily back to the settlement. She remembered the impossible weight in her arms, pushing down on her bones and compressing her flesh, and she was amazed at the strength of these beings.

“May I borrow a knife?” She asked the two warriors who were apparently waiting for her to take her back into the confines of the settlement, Thorin looking positively eager to take her to safety and slightly annoyed at the delay.

Dwalin handed her a small blade and she knelt again, opening a small wound in her forearm and sticking the bloodied knife-edge into the ground. It was a hungry earth, she knew for she felt its thirst, and old nan had told her that dung and blood fertilised the soil best.

“What are you doing, lass?” Dwalin approached, cautiously, suspicious of an obviously insane woman with a knife. “Gardening, Master Dwalin, gardening.” She replied with a small chuckle. Maybe, she could get some seeds out of those vegetables she had bought. When dawn broke, she would inspect the wilderness around the Mountains in search of herbs and fruits she could use for her other, meagre talents in hopes that she could be of service in any other way.

“Mistress? Mother asks what is to be done about the food you have brought…” The blonde kid came up to them, exclaiming: “Oi, mistress, you’re hurt!” and offering a rather dubious handkerchief right away.

“Oh, no, I’m fine.” She looked to Thorin, seeking his help in explaining. “She does things differently.” Thorin said tonelessly but inclined his head at her to get her to answer the original question of his nephew.

“Come, Mistress, you must be cold. Really, uncle, to have that poor woman sitting on the cold ground.” Fíli seemed outraged and dragged her away towards the settlement, shaking his head at an equally indignant Thorin.

“So…about that food.” The young man asked again, pointing at the cart nobody had touched hitherto. “It was a gift…”

Thorin had said it would be welcome, but maybe they distrusted her that much? “I have purchased it from a merchant from the Shire and Thorin has been there all the time, I have…there is…it’s good.” She stammered, biting her lip, she had never been so far from home and comfort; she felt painfully outmatched by all these gloriously self-possessed people around her.

“Oh yes, nobody said there was anything wrong with it. No…but it’s yours, Mistress. Uncle said you’ve bought it.” Fíli replied gently, steering her to a nearby bench and twisting his moustache. Evidently, he was trying on the role he would have to fill sooner or later; she hoped it would be later, much later, for she could not even envision the death of one Thorin Oakenshield.

The very man approached and lifted his hands when she wanted to defer that decision to him. “You bought it with your past, woman, you decide of its future.” He declared and waited.

“What are you talking about, Master Dwarf?” She mumbled, waving at the cart and the foodstuffs within. “These are offerings to the venerable royal family and their people.” She spoke to the young prince, handing him what little was left of her savings.

“Woman, did you just hand him your money?” Thorin roared. “Yes, Master Thorin, didn’t you?”

“That’s not the same thing.” He protested. “I am not a kept woman, Master Thorin, and I am not your guest. Your people cannot bear another idle mouth to feed, another idle body to warm, isn’t that the truth you tried to hide from me?”

He retreated one step, startled by her candid words. “That first night, you took me in, you gave me food.” He murmured.

“And I will continue to do so, Master, I will forage and hunt, I’m used to walking to markets to sell my wares and I shall go on doing just that. I have survived on my own for a long time and I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

Her pride shone bright in that second as she went toe-to-toe with a king, with a man she respected, with a person she venerated for his kindness and generosity. “I want you to be my guest.” He said, just a tiny bit petulant.

“And I’m telling you that I don’t want to be your guest. You are my master…and my friend. Have I ever offered you less than my service?” She barked back, proud and strong, standing in the middle of the courtyard with her cart.

“I have made a vow, Thorin-king, I have promised hard work and humility to purge the sins of my forefathers. Have you forgotten about that? I shall not renounce my promise to the creator.” She went on, softer.

“You are delivered. Men don’t work for the likes of me.” Thorin retorted, with deceiving calm.

“I am not a man though, am I? All kinds of people work for their king if their king works for them, and women have worked for a man since the beginning of time.” She smiled. “I am not a slaver!” He exploded.

“They are not your people.” As soon as he saw her face fall, he knew that he had gone too far, that his words and his pitiful mastery of them had failed him; like wild horses, they had run off and trampled someone he cared for.

“Thorin!” The princess, beautiful and wreathed in flames of just anger, stormed into the yard and let both her palms clash heavily onto his broad chest.

“Do not listen to him, he did not mean it the way he’s spoken it; Thorin has ever been a mulish, overly proud, misspeaking fool.” She whispered to the frail creature huddled in her hurt as a babe in a blanket.

“It runs in the family.” Thorin hissed and earned another withering, punitive stare from his sister.

“Your gifts are very welcome. What he means to say is that we do not want to be seen as the kind of people who take advantage of the…goodwill of a gentle maiden such as you. We are said to be ruthless and greedy.” Her eyes went dark with sadness. “There are things that may point into that direction. If you were to sacrifice that tender life of yours in service to a…homeless people, it would shame us.” Her royal hand rested heavy and solid on the frail and shivering one.

“I would be part of a great destiny, of retribution, of redemption, if you permit, Milady.” She whispered, begging under her breath. “Such faith have you in a king without a crown, without a realm, without an army?” The princess was surprised.

“Such faith have I in the person who’s led me out of misery and through peril to a safe haven, yes.” She replied firmly.

“Harbul…” Thorin sighed, much to the dismay of his sister and the onlookers. He had called her “mudlike”, which was in itself not a compliment, but when she looked up to question him on his choice of name, he smiled: “Creature of mud, creature of soil, fertile daughter of water and earth.”

She bowed to him, accepting “mud” as her name, as her epithet, as her identity, amongst those strange people who were so private with their own names. Her previous name was strange and outlandish to them, so she encouraged the outraged crowd to address her by a word of their own language.

They were so proud of their heritage that it was unimaginable to them to feel honoured to be given another name in a foreign language, but she hoped that at least Thorin would understand. “I am sorry.” He murmured as he took her arm to go into the dining hall, small and cramped as it might be. So, he did not understand.

“If I had been less hasty, if my words had been less careless, please believe me that I’d have bestowed a name worthy of your courage and your loyalty upon you. I’d have praised your beauty and your good heart rather than harp on your own erroneous vision of yourself. I am truly sorry.” He whispered into her ear, while his sister still looked at him as if he had crawled out under a rock.

“Don’t…I love it.” She beamed up at him, trying out her own name tentatively. “I feel like I’ve arrived.”

“From dust to mud? I don’t want that, I don’t want you to stay a slave to ghosts forever.” He sounded exasperated by her meekness. “Some of us are born for greatness, harbingers of momentous change and icons of a bright future, Master Dwarf. You are more than just a man, you’re a promise, you’re an oath, you’re the physical embodiment of an excellence spanning centuries and millennia…and some of us…are not.”

“Arzâm, that’s what I should have named you.” He groaned. “Woman, growled impatiently, has worked perfectly for us this far, no?” She grinned, then, overcome with curiosity, she asked: “What does it mean then?”

“It means “faith”; despite everything you say about yourself, it is what I think of first when I think of you.”

“And do you think of me often?” She laughed. “Yes.” He gave back in a serious, ponderous tone.

“Then I shall accept that name as well. Faith, it suits me well.” She was still smiling, shedding her old skin and everything she had been born into with an easy shrug that confused and amazed Thorin.

At the closed door though, she hesitated, then stopped completely.

“I…Should I go in there? I can eat out here.” The woman henceforth and forevermore known as Faith offered.

“You are not a dog, woman, come in. There are still dwarrows who want to meet you…and they’re pushing against this very door from the wrong side.” With an impatient call through the wooden partition inviting unseen people to please clear the doors, Thorin gave it a hearty shove.

Excited murmurs and threatening growls erupted in a sound like waves crashing onto the shore.

“I am unwelcome.” She whispered, biting her lip to keep her calm while Thorin moved with impervious determination through the throng of people towards a table where his nephews were already seated.

“Let me leave, Master Thorin, I beg you.” His hand only tightened around her arm as he pushed her forward, feeling miserable because he was treating her like a prisoner now, but she would not just scurry away to eat scraps of the food she had bought herself. “Don’t be afraid; these are the sounds living, breathing beings make…Okay, dwarrows might be a little louder than the fine people you’ve grown up with, but…” He gave her a crooked smile.

It was true; she was overwhelmed with the sheer volume of the cacophony of life around her. After years of wandering in an endless, wooded tomb, she had almost forgotten what vivacity sounded like.

“If you go any slower, uncle, she’ll be dead of starvation before you make it to the table. We’ve all seen the beautiful maid you’ve brought along with you, now make haste, we want to eat.” The younger one of the nephews called out and ducked behind his brother to avoid Thorin’s glaring look. Only, he had not minded his own mother who gave him a sharp rap on the head that might have broken Faith’s neck from the look of his head flying forward and almost knocking over a pitcher.

“Friends, kinsmen, join me in welcoming Mistress Faith who not only has provided this dinner, but, as I am told, has also chased away a potential intruder AND tried to hold a pebble.” Dís announced, apparently silently agreeing with her son’s assessment that Thorin’s dignified and regal entrance was basically just annoying and boring.

General laughter from the surrounding crowd made Faith look around in wonderment and interest. “Why is that funny? That infant was adorable, why wouldn’t I try to hold it?” She looked up at Thorin questioningly. “They’re heavy and notoriously difficult. Your new friend here was a terror.” He grinned as they reached the table, nodding at his sister.

“I was absolutely nothing of the sort; I was a proper angel compared to my older brother.” She spat back and, for a moment, Faith thought that she would stick out her tongue in defiance.

“Fíli was a fussy baby, but Kíli was not all that difficult.” Dís informed her as she pushed the woman down on a chair with a force that made her bones creak. “They must have been so adorable.” Faith sighed under her breath.

“They were okay.” Thorin grumbled, but his eyes were warm. She remembered the stories he had told her on the road about their first weapons and their first ponies; she had traded him old women’s tales for recollections of his beloved family and so she knew that he loved those rambunctious boys more than his own life.

“Also, that baby was not difficult at all.” She turned back to Thorin. “It tried to scalp you!” He exclaimed. “Nonsense, it merely played with my hair…It was charmed to find someone who let it touch their hair.” She rolled her eyes at him.

“Well…you may touch mine, for good luck, as you say. Would that make you feel less nervous?” It was a surprising offer and she shook her head immediately. “Oh no, I won’t touch your hair, in the dining room, in front of everyone!” She hissed under her breath which made him break into booming laughter.

Fiddling around with his braids for a second, he pressed a small metal bead into her hand under the table.

“For good luck.” He winked. “Thorin-king, you cannot do that.” She blushed. “I am king; I can do what I want.”

Being back home with his people brought out that other side of him as well, she noticed; he seemed to have a streak of wicked, quick-witted humour that made her head spin. She knew this to be a joke for she was fiercely aware that she had only known one single person in all her life who had lived observing a more extensive array of rules and restrictions than her: Thorin.

“Be true to your name, woman, and have faith in me, have faith in my people. We are a private folk, suspicious, distrustful, wary of outsiders, but we also know a gem from a pebble, and we value loyalty above all else.” He said with that weighty, serious tone that made him sound so much like a king of old.

He served her prime cuts and a good heap of vegetables. “Eat your greens, Thorin-king!” She whispered as she understood that he was trying to smuggle her his portion as well. Despite the face that he made at her, he shoved a fork full into his mouth grimly and stared her down defiantly.

“Thank you, Mistress.” Fíli bowed his head at her with a cheeky smile. “At your service, prince.” She replied, her deference marred by the grin she couldn’t suppress. “Do you want to walk with Kíli and me after dinner? We can show you the others.” The prince offered eagerly. “Others?” Faith was immediately interested.

“Don’t overtax her.” Thorin cut in, stern, afraid that too many dwarrows at once might still make her run for the hills.

“Oh, please say I may go, Master Dwarf. Please.” She begged, grabbing his arm with both her hands. “Well, my nephews can open the doors for you.” He said with a sly smile and had she not been in the dining room in presence of a good many of his subjects, she might have smacked his arm for his cheeky insolence.

“Will you heap blessings on them as well?” Thorin asked, a tinge of jealousy piqued within his heart. “I shall beg the great creator to be merciful to those who would follow you into the great unknown, yes.”

“That great creator you always talk about…who is he?” Thorin shoved away his plate and turned to her fully, to the surprise and confusion of the other people in the room. “Well, he’s the great creator. We are not given his name, Thorin-king. He is one and he is many. He is the source of everything.”

Thorin made a gesture that encouraged her to go on. “He’s the beginning and from him flowed all powers and things, which in turn created new things. Creatures of mud. Creatures of stone.” She smiled up at him with open warmth.

“We believe that Mahal has created us. Hewn us from stone and Eru Ilúvatar gave us consciousness.” Thorin murmured in a low voice to her. Faith raised her hand and puckered her lips in strenuous concentration. This sounded familiar…had she perverted her nan’s stories? Had she diluted the tale?

“He is one and he is many, from him all things sprang, the holy maker of things, fashioner of chains and forger of wonders…the name escapes me, Thorin-king, but I might have heard of that Mahal.” She whispered, more to herself than to him until she became aware of his burning gaze upon her focused face. “Yes, I might have known that story…” She repeated.

“That’s a part of the great creator that had no bearing on my life though, I am sorry.” She went on, apologetic. “The story doesn’t end there; Yavanna, his wife, is queen of the earth, bringer of fruits, protectress of all things that grow.” Thorin interrupted her.

“So, you’ve given the different parts of the great creator names?” – “It’s what people say…there are many names and a lot of stories, I thought you might like them.” He smiled gently; he had seen how she was grounded in her faith and how she thrived on stories and tales. This was a gift to her, and he hoped that she would not be offended.

“Hmmm, interesting.” Faith was consumed by curiosity now. “So, you were hewn from stone?” – “No, not me.” He laughed.

“Durin then? Was Durin hewn from stone?” She asked, remembering that mystical first king. “Yes…”

“And he had a long beard?” Faith beamed up at him. “Yes, he had a long beard.” Thorin chuckled, amazed by her naïve fascination and earnest wish to learn; to her, all of this were stories, fairy tales and pretty lies, but his people had cherished and passed on those accounts for generations.

Faith’s mind was churning with questions; to her, there had always been a notion of sacrifice and devotion to her observance of her belief and she wondered what might please this Mahal.

“Have I leave to go to the nearest river in the morning?” She asked Thorin as their plates were cleared away. “What for?”

“Have I leave to use one of your furnaces?” She went on, not answering his question.

“I accept your faith, I accept your vision of the creator, and I hope they might accept my way of honouring them.”

She would go and collect loam, purify it to clay and turn it into pottery, he understood. Offerings had ever been her way of expressing and observing her faith; he had seen her twice bleed onto the ground and a hundred times call out to the great creator while offering her time, her tears, and her pain to him.

“What for?” He repeated slowly. “To give thanks for the walls that encase me, for the man who’s saved me, for the creation of this beauty that fills my soul to the brim, Master Thorin. I have seen great wonders, they were gifts, and gratitude is expected.”

When he didn’t reply, Faith went on softly: “I have surrendered my life to you, I have surrendered my name to you, let me worship the way I always have and hope that it finds grace.”

Industry and creation had ever been pleasing to Mahal, Thorin thought and he could barely imagine that any Valar could be displeased with such ready and absolute devotion. One could have believed that her soul was easily swayed, but as he looked into her eyes, he discovered that her belief had only deepened thanks to his words.

“I’ve told you about Yavanna because she sounds like someone you’d feel…close to.” Thorin went on, disregarding his nephews who were chomping at the bit to get the poor woman away from him. No doubt, they had some mischief in mind.

“Many times you’ve called me king of stone, immutable and intransigent…” He went on. “Strong and steady.” She corrected.

“Well, allow me to call you queen of growth then, queen of thriving things, queen of change.” The way his face melted into a dazzling smile made her feel weak in the knees; he was the fire and the smith in equal measures, and she would never grow accustomed to the flashing blaze that engulfed her unexpectedly.

“Let us call you queen of moving away from the grumpy old dwarrow.” Kíli said cheekily and pulled her by the arm, almost tearing the whole limb out of the socket. “Gently!” Thorin warned his nephew, who apologised but kept drawing her away.

“So…how do you find uncle?” Kíli asked as soon as they were – almost – out of earshot.

“What are you talking about? He’s just over there! I had no reason to search for him this far.” Faith replied with a smirk.

“Haha, funny, no, but…how do you find him?” The young prince insisted, not discouraged by her side-stepping.

“I find him much restored in his health and mood now that he’s amongst his kin.” Faith provided amiably.

“Mahal’s beard, woman, do you think he’s cute?” Ah, the impatience of the young, Faith thought, increasingly enjoying this little game. “No, prince, there is no creature on this earth less probable to be called “cute” than your uncle, the king.” She chuckled.

“Really? Look at him, look at the fuzzy beard…Is it the beard? Really, he could grow a proper one, not like Kí here…He has his reasons to wear it short…It is the beard, isn’t it?” Fíli plunged into the conversation.

Faith wondered how good the king’s hearing was and how he’d feel about her being asked inappropriate questions about him by his intrusive but adorable nephews. She also knew that beards and hair were not up for discussion usually.

“There is nothing wrong with the king’s beard.” – “You can call him Thorin, he’s not here…You can call him everything you like…” Fíli was an irreverent creature, Faith thought, cheeky to a fault, but she felt warm affection wash through her immediately, nonetheless.

“I shall call the king what he is. A king. Your most revered uncle. A man deserving of respect and esteem.” She said severely.

“You sound like mother…Come on, give us something. Any little thing, you like the beard then?”

“He’s a good man.” Faith said slowly. “But do you think he’s handsome? I feel like he hasn’t been told that he’s handsome lately. Mom tells him he looks like a raincloud that was stuffed inside a rotten tree trunk for too long.”

Faith knew that it was a trap, but she couldn’t help herself. “I am pretty sure that the honourable princess would never say anything quite as callously untrue to her brother, the king.” She cut in sharply.

“You should tell him that he’s handsome.” Kíli looked at her with huge, wet eyes pleadingly. “No, I should most definitely not do anything of the sort. Are you out of your mind, good prince?”

Faith bit her lip, that was no way one was to speak to a prince.

“I am not. He’s my uncle, I am fond of him…and he’s lonely. Also, he’s worn his best tunic tonight and you did not comment on it, did you? Screaming at him and all.” Now, he was making her feel guilty; she had indeed almost argued with Thorin tonight.

“Durin blue and all…” Fíli added. “You know Durin?”

“The one hewn from stone with the long beard, yes. I have not had the pleasure as that was before my time, but yes, I have been made aware of him.” Faith replied cautiously; she knew not if she was allowed to talk about this to other people.

“Do you think him ugly? It’s okay if you do, many of your kind do. We had just hoped that you’d…cheer the old boulder up with your feminine guiles.” They seemed dejected by her words and Faith was quick to want to reassure them. One would have thought that she had insulted their Mahal and Durin by not answering their question and their sad eyes broke her heart.

“Who? The king? He’s the most beautiful creature in the world.” Faith almost stumbled over her own words.

“Oh really? Can you tell him? Please, tell him.” Strong hands closed around her arm. They must have been adorable as children, Faith thought again, no wonder Thorin loved them with such fierce intensity and tender indulgence.

“To his face?” Faith was doubtful that this would be a good idea. “To his goofy, fuzzy face, yes.” Kíli laughed.

“Kí…Let’s go meet a friend of ours. I think you’ll like him.” Fíli grabbed her sleeve ever so delicately and gave it a gentle tug, apparently afraid to damage his uncle’s plaything. “I am not made of sugar.” Faith laughed.

“You have no idea what they’re like if you dare…touch, take, damage or steal what they consider theirs. Great-granddad, he was…intense.” Fíli chuckled, but there was a darker, painful truth behind his light tone. Faith retraced their family tree, potential centuries of history, reciting under her breath: Thorin II, son of Thráin II, son of Thrór. What had happened to them? Thorin had spoken at length about the family that lived, about the people she’d meet, but he had avoided the subject of his forefathers as much as possible. What did the prince mean by “intense”?

“I am not his. Not in that way. I am a tool, not a valued possession.” Faith tried to protest, but heavy dwarven brows raised in evident mockery stopped the gush of indignant words immediately.

“Yeah, that’s probably why I can already feel our mother’s breath on my neck…Uncle didn’t want to let you go, let you out of his sight…as if we’d ever let any harm come to you.” Fíli puffed up with wounded pride. “The king says you have a tendency to mislay and lose your…things. Toys. Ponies.” Faith dared interject.

“This is different! Mother would…oh, she’d be furious and so would uncle. No, we’ll take you to see Ori and let uncle introduce you himself to the rougher fellows. Do you have any valuables?” Kíli asked in a nonchalant tone as they led her down a narrow corridor.

“No?” Faith patted the pockets of the dress that didn’t belong to her, just in case the previous owner had left anything in them.

“Good, because Nori will pick your pockets.” They both laughed. “Oh…maybe I should have brought something of value then?” Faith felt bad and slightly irritated at the boys for not having warned her beforehand.

“Here, it’s your own coin you handed to me so gallantly. It will make the old boy happy.” Fíli handed her a coin and she tucked it away in one of the skirt pockets diligently. “You’re a good sort, Mistress.” Kíli grinned, giving her a small slap on the shoulder that propelled her a few feet forwards.

“Be careful, Kí! Uncle will not let her come with us anymore if she’s all bruised afterwards!” His brother reprimanded the young prince immediately who apologised with another one of those melting puppy-eyed looks that made her heart shudder with maternal instincts. “I have to toughen up.” She just smiled.

“No, we need to learn delicacy. Ah, here’s one who will know how to act…Ok, he’s fled. We’ll get him!”

They ran off, after a reddish flash dashing around a corner, with surprising agility. To Faith, it felt like watching wolf pups chase after a deer; there was the distinct cuteness of youth, but already, one could not oversee the instincts and the single-minded determination of predators, of warriors, of flowering strength and power.

Sighing, she decided to follow them, praying that there would be no doors to open or sullen dwarrows to confront before she found them. In her mind, she turned over the question if it would really be appropriate to tell the king that he was handsome…She had said so before, but she had spoken abstractly, never really adopting the tone his nephews so ardently claimed was necessary. The mere possibility that those two rascals could be right when hinting at the king’s loneliness overruled her sense of propriety and what little pride she had left. Once she’d find her way back to her companion, she’d tell him.

“Mistress? Here’s Ori.” Kíli shoved another youngish dwarrow towards her who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but in her presence. Her heart froze. Two other silhouettes appeared from the shadows and the hairs on her neck raised in gooseflesh.

[bindi-the-skunk]

Night is day and day is night In a world that's lost its mind! chapter seven

beeep beeep beep beep beep

The sound of cold, emotionless machines sounded off around the alpha who had nearly been cut to ribbons by the glass table he had fallen into from his decent, but thankfully nothing important had been impaled or cut, and the blow to his head also proved to be nothing of great concern as he had woken up inside the ambulance and proved to be coherent and managed to fall into sleep before his mate walked in.

Henry sat by his mate's bedside, looking off into space, praying this was all just a horrible nightmare that he could wake up from, that ladder...who had put a faulty ladder out like that? He had seen, the ladder had been tampered with, it was not just old or warped, Same person who had put Zosi on the rafters? The grim could not have made it up there himself, someone put him there...but who would do such an awful thing?

Who had been the target?

Any of the lodgers would have gone to grab Zosimos if they saw him up there! If it was meant for a particular person, putting the beloved 'mascot' of the society in danger was not the way to trap a single person, any one of them would have tried to save him, even if Jekyll himself was the target, whoever did it could not have known he would have left his safe spot to see what happened, he could have shouted for someone else to check it out for him.

Could be anyone...he would make sure everyone was on high alert! This would not happen again!

And whoever did this was going to pay...DEARLY...

"H...henry?" came a tired voice and said omega looked over to see sleepy brown eyes looking at him.

"You scared me," Jekyll said, leaning over to plant a kiss on his mate's forehead, which was thankfully one of the parts not covered in bandages "Get some more rest"

"I..should be saying that to you" Robert chuckled and found the strength to sit up, he felt like he had been shoved into a blender, but at least nothing seemed broken and he could still feel his appendages.

"I'm alright, or I will be once your better and back at the society, the lodgers are already putting up cameras so if anyone tries something like this again we can catch them in the act, I'm going to give them to Zosi to pee on when we do" Henry chuckled at the thought.

"You are saying someone did this on purpose? Why?" Robert asked.

"The ladder had been sawed through, handling it did not raise any alarm bells, but an adult man getting on it...carting a dog who loves his treats and well..." Henry said well fiddling with his shirt buttons, glad that the fall had not been any higher or the fall just a bit harder...several what if's ran through his head and none of them were happy outcomes.

What if he had absentmindedly gotten onto that ladder? The fall might not have killed him...but an unborn baby...if he had landed on his front...or got impaled in the gut with glass...

'You really are glass half empty aren't you? Your mate and brat are alive! The mutt is too! And with those cameras, whoever did this is as good as in our hands, hopefully, you come up with something better than Zoozoo peeing on them, what do you REALLY want to do?'. Hyde asked, his cat-like grin showing in the hospital's window, just as ready to taste blood as his supposed to be better side was.

'I want to coat whoever did this in honey and leave them tied up in bear-infested woods' Jekyll internally admitted to his darker half, he tried not to relish dark thoughts, but someone, SOMEONE had harmed his mate, the father of his unborn pup, might have been planning on killing it as their original intent... that was something he would not forgive and WOULD take his pound of flesh for.

Perhaps he should take Robert up on his offer to teach him a few...tricks...this had to stop.

---

Door locked

Shades drawn

His mates, his alive mates heat pressed against his back as a small knife was placed into his hands, feeling strange and familiar at the same time, Hyde's muscle memory serving him well, neither of the couple honestly wanted to do this, but if whoever caused the incident, was also the one responsible for the gas leak, showed someone meant business, they had to be prepared and Henry could no longer count on transforming to help him out if it came to blows.

'I would have preferred our cane' Hyde complained as he watched the little knife twist in his counterparts fingers, a protection vest on the other to protect his ever-growing stomach from getting cut, the little dagger was only about as long as a marker and only about a single finger in width and could be safely folded into itself and tucked into a side pocket so it was perfectly concealed.

Hyde would have gone for something bigger and flashier, where was the fun in that little thing?

'A knife is quicker and all I need to do is get a single stab in instead of having to repeatedly knock someone down with a cane, if it comes down to it, I will need to do it quickly and get out of their striking distance as fast as I can, we can't risk an elongated fight' Henry said to Hyde as the other seemed to be thinking hard about something 'What is it?'

Edward broke into giggles 'You said elongated, hehehe'

Ugggghhh...three more months...three more months...then you can let Hyde out so he can stop going bonkers! Because it seemed like Edward was the one who got the pregnancy brain! Or at least that was what Henry was choosing to tell himself.

[missingartist]

The Witchers Mate- Chapter 2

Brightwater was a large town hanging upon the end of the coast, surrounded by an impenetrable forest, a solid defence from the raging war. Yet, the quaint town nestled a busy port that never slept bringing new trader at every hour possible and with it more money and new faces. That was till the attacks started. At first, they were few a far between, a stray villager wandering off in the forest ripped apart by a bear, a dock worker having to be butchered by bandits in the dead of night, a couple of merchants devoured by a pack of wolves. The excuses came in thick and fast; people did not know what to believe. A monster was within the only thing that could attack in the dead of night before slipping back into the darkness unseen. In the last month, 13 people had been attacked at the claws of the creature. Men, women and children, the thing held no prejudiced, it disembowelled any that crossed its path without care or mercy. Even in the light of day, people seemed to hover in the doorways on their houses as they watched their children play, fear ever-present in their mind.

Though the mass of houses and business Adva stared out from a crooked window as she watched children play on the cobbled stones. Bone knuckles seemed to be a favourite, as they giggled on the patch of mud that they had drawn a pitch, they seemed so carefree and light-hearted in the face of so much death, an element that Adva had become far too familiar with. A pained groan broke her thoughts, turning a young girl coughed and spluttered her way to consciousness. The child was one of the latest victims, found barely alive among her family, a father and a heavy pregnancy mother. Adva cooed and shhhhed as the girl began to struggle against the grips of the healing spell. A pale, freckled thing with stringy red hair that looked more like a doll than a child, she hadn’t moved in 3 days since she was bought to the healer’s hut in the dead of night. The victim’s blood was tainted with some toxin, seeping into every cell and draining their energy, teetering them on the edge of death. Adva had filled the room with the heavy incense of rosemary and nettles that burned wildly behind her, a bitter and unpleasant smell, but a necessary one to purify the blood and the body. The damage to the tiny body had been significant- three deep gashes on the side of her body, but they were clean and smooth, easy to bind and tend. The man on the bed next to the small child had not been so lucky; his back had been ripped apart, jiggered and raw. It had taken all three of healers to rescue the man from the grips of death. It took several minutes to calm the child and redress the bandages before Adva tucked her tenderly into the bed.

Sighing, Adva pulled herself up and over to the water butt next to the door and ladle the cold water into her parched mouth.

‘Adva!!!! Vivian sent me to get you! The Witcher arrived! Exciting, isn’t it?’ a bright-eyed woman squicked, sending the wooden ladle clattering to the floor. Adva harshly shushed the women as she pulled the shutter across the makeshift sleeping quarters. Originally, the healer’s hut was abandoned for most of the year, used when a bout of fever or illness passed through which was few and far between. When the devil arrived at their door, the city was not prepared, no official healer and no stock of potions, tinctures or bandages. The people of Brightwater went to either Cersi or Tradi for their aliments, those who could not afford them went to Adva. The hut was now depleted and not fit to house the injured citizen and certainly not with a shrill woman bursting in on her.

‘Very… the sooner this thing is sent back to whatever hole it crawled out of but keep your voice down. It has been a hard night; you wake them, you will kill them.’ Adva scolded lightly.

Nesta of Perth was a good-hearted woman but one too fond of gin and pleasure of men, well as long as they gave her the fee of course. By the smell of it she had already been at the bottle, and the state of hair suggested that she had already been at her other vice. Once upon a time, she had been the daughter of a noble but upon finding the pleasure of the flesh, her life had taken a different turning from the expectation of being a wife and mother. Now she was a whore and a harlot, but a very well paid one at that. Nesta beauty was stunning, a pixie nose on a heart-shaped face, intense green eyes framed by feathered lash toped of the layered locks of mahogany hair. She looked younger than her years, could easily pass for a blushing virgin of 16, her body slender and firm with large breast openly on display in a tight corset dress of fine satin.

‘If they can sleep peacefully through Tradi’s righteous rants and monologues they can sleep through me, getting a little bit excited about this devilishly handsome Witcher. Bela saw him going into the Lord's manor, says he looks like a god, tall and broad. Exactly my type. Let's go see him together.’ Nesta pleaded with an adorable look on her face as she clutched at of Adva’s hands.

‘Anything that breaths is your type. I can’t leave…I need to make sure they are okay.’ The healer spoke softly.

‘It won’t do. Vivian has ordered me to bring you. The Witcher is to stay at the Tavern; I think the Lord doesn’t want any funny business so had paid for everything, even ourselves, Viv need you back… she was angry you weren’t back last night, she wants all of us ready and waiting. I, for one, will only be too happy to supply it, I’m sure he might even be persuaded to have a nibble at you, god knows you can use the coin, I don’t know how you live. Working as a maid, singing and healing are never going to make you have a comfortable life. Why not let Viv auction off your virginity, she might even get that Witcher to buy it, I'm sure he needs to be entertained.’

‘Speak for yourself, if he wants to be entertained, he can do it with the girls that are already there. I have told you and Viv before. Besides I cannot leave, there will be no one to look after them.’ Adva rolled her eyes at her friend, gods she loved her, but they wouldn’t be more different. Nesta sort out the intention of men and Adva avoided them.

The Mahogany whore rolled her eyes and wandered over a large chest of draws and settled upon it, skirts riding immorally high. ‘I thought Tradi was supposed to be taking over from you? How come you still here?’

‘He didn’t turn up, but his only a day late. You know how he doesn’t like to be pulled away from his crafting.’ Adva laughed as she watched her friend dangle her to fit in the air, like the child who watched their mother flit around her kitchen.

‘Well, then it lucky for you Cersi was in the town centre with Viv. She sent Tradi off with a flea in his ear; I saw him matching across the square with a sour expression on his face, not that he has any other expression…’ Nesta laughed, and Adva could not help but join in. Tradi was an unbearable ponce but good at his craft which made him bearable, especially to the recent violent epidemic.

Their merriment was cut short when the door burst open, and a man appeared at the door. A deep stubble graced his face giving him a defined look; some would call him handsome, other beautiful but it was hard to take in his exquisite feature with an ugly look of annoyance that stained his face. Once a prominent sorcerer at the court of powerful kings but no reduced to being a simple town mage, cast off from the guild. Tradi didn’t acknowledge them but marched pas and ripped open the shutters.

‘I take it from Cersi insistent demand that I come a relieve you; you have managed to kill someone. Can we not leave you alone for more than a day before you go running for help. No wonder Lord Fagen refused to send you to Lodge of Sorceresses.’

Adva glanced at Nesta who gave a silent snort as she hopped off the draws and straightened her skirts before grabbing a corse grey cloak and slipping it around the healer's shoulders and raising the hooded against the bitter weather outside.

‘It was soooo nice of you to come and relieve Adva, even though it's your dicking turn, so graceful of you.’ Nesta snapped sarcastically, weaving the healer to the door, ignoring the mages murderous gaze.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Nesta walked through the streets of the town, dirt had already covered an inch of her new embroidered dress, as she jumped over a rather large muddy puddle she observed her friend as Adva tugged her grey cloak tighter around her body. It was a shame that she didn’t want to become one of the girls at the tavern, Adva reminded her of the old pictures that her father would collect, classically beautiful, ethereal, Vivien would joke that if one was to look too deeply into Adva eyes, they would drown in the limpid pool lost forever. It was a tale the madam would purr into the ear of travelling merchant to entice them to relieve their pockets of the coin, Sirens of Brightwater she would call them, for Adva she wondered if that was true. Often, late at night, when the toil of the day was done, men snoring safely upstair, balls empty and stomachs full, Nesta would trot downstairs for a nightcap and her and the other girls would sometimes keep Adva company as she tended to positions or prepared balm and ointments for the customers of the tavern. In those nights sometimes she found herself staring into Adva’s eyes finding herself lost, waking only when the spell lifted. Sometimes time she would be talking to the group in the kitchen then find herself in her room, standing in darkness with no idea how she got there and not a drop of gin had passed her lips.

The tavern whore dodged a pie seller as he barged through her calling his wares, the city centre had never seemed so busy, families lined up the street and women leaned out of windows, even the respectable ones seem to be dangerously dangling their assets for all the world to see, Nesta was sure that word of the Witcher rugged good looks would spread fast. For the most part, Adva seemed to be unaware, her hood shielded most of her vision, but something hung heavy in the air, and it was not the pies, something different, an earthy smell, spiced with something Adva could not put her finger on. The young healer followed her friend as she marched with determination through the thickening crowd. With a sigh of relief, Adva pushed her way through to Cersi who stood a fair distance from the podium; she was smiling up at the stand, a genuine smile then lit up her face, a shine that was on equal to the diamonds that adorned her neck.

‘Adva! I am glad to see Tradi final relieved you of your post. Vivian has been frantic with a need for your tender manner. It seems Vivian isn’t as good a cook like you, my dear.’ Cersi beamed as she held her hand out in a greeting.

Adva could not help but smile up at the woman; she had an infectious good nature. But there was an odd edge in her eyes, a deep concern with an unwavering gaze but her curiosity was diverted by Vivian the raven heard temptress.

‘And why should I be? I have made my way in life on my back in the bedroom, not on my feet in the kitchen.’ Vivian bite out appeared through the crowd and standing next to her. ‘Once this wretched place gets of that… thing, the order will be restored and business as usual. How are you, Adva? You look tired.’ Vivian asked tenderly. ‘Soon you’ll be back with us, might even help take some coin from the Witcher.’

Vivian was a middle-aged woman, the bloom of youth had withered and died long ago, but still, she was considered a handsome woman. The fine lines that were carved into her face had not detracted from her beauty. Always wrapped in corn gold cotton, hair curled and placed into an elegant top do — a mother figure to the girls but a first and foremost a businesswoman.

Adva smiled at the women before observing the crowd who were captivated by the podium, nudging each other and whispering, eyes darted toward the wooden structure in the middle of the square. Fagen Brightwater looked on at the crowd, while one of his guards whispered in his ear. Adva eyes glided over to the bulking figure next to the lord; he was clearly several inches taller than the rest of the men, a set of broad shoulders and muscles that strained against leather amour and fitted tight against his body. Tanned skin glowed against the dull figure flowing hair of purest white and glowing amber eyes. A violent vibration took over her mind, and an immense pressure gathered at the bridge of her nose, the feeling overwhelmed her sense to the point she was only slightly aware that Lord Fagen had begun to address the crowd.

Blinking rapidly Adva tried to clear her mind of the dense fog that seems to decent upon her, in slow motion, her eyes followed his eyes as they scanned the hoard of villages with an intense gaze. Pulling her hood down, Adva’s could now see the full figure of the Witcher, as soon as the hood fell the golden orb zeroed in on her as he inhaled deeply, his chest rolling primally. The penetrating scrutiny of the Witcher’s stare forced the curly-haired healer to cast her eyes downward. There was a heavy air that surrounded her that made her dizzy; she felt drunk; her body felt light and lethargic.

‘Adva…. Adva’ a voice called in the distance.

Raising her vibrant aquamarine eyes, they meet the warm brown of Vivian’s eyes. ‘Gods she is dead on her feet. Nesta takes her back to the tavern. Get her to bed straight away. No arguing, she needs to be at her best, the Witcher will be at work tonight, we best be prepared.’

Nesta looked at her friend with a critical eye, she looked half-stunned, it surprised everyone when she led the girl away without any defiance, Adva was too dazed to argue and let herself be led through the crowd without a sound or a glance back at the golden orbs.

‘Interesting.’ Cersi cooed as she continues to watch the Lord give his rousing speech about unity and the promise of the swift and bloody revenge at the hand of Geralt of Rivia, who remained stoic and deep in thought, but the tell-tell signs of deep shock where his wide eyes as he looked on ignoring the confused annoyance of his companion.

‘Interesting? More annoying…Curse that Tradi, if he had followed the agreement Adva wouldn’t be so frazzled she looks like she had been run over by a cart. Look I need to get back, sort this shit storm out, can you keep the Witcher entertain for a couple of hours, take him to the healer's hut, take him to the armoury, take him to the god damn beauty parlour if need be, just keep him out the way till I sort out this shit show.’ Vivian growled as she marched off after the girls.

Cersi rolled her eyes at the furious madam’s panic and continued to watch the Lord's epic speech that finished with a flourish. The crowd cheered and applauded and departed happily singing out their praise and love for the Witcher and Fagen, even the chorus of Toss a Coin to Your Witcher could be heard as the peasants made their way to their home in preparation for the night to come. A night of barring their windows and hiding under the tables.

‘Ahhhh Geralt. Long-time no sees. We have much to discuss.’ Cersi purred brushing invisible threads of her cuff as she smiled at her old friend.

‘Hmmm’

‘Hello pretty lady. I am Jaskier, Geralt’s personal bard. Can I interest you in a drink?’

[raibebe]

On the run

Genre: Fluffy smut Words: 3.343 Prompt: My head says no but my heart says ooh yes For @im-a-special-bebe A/N: This somehow got really out of control and is a lot fluffier than I intended, I hope you enjoy it anyways. ❤ Also if this looks weird on some devices, I’m really sorry but tumblr was really not cooperating well with me today...

You had been on the run now for more days than you could count. The first few all a blur of gunshots and running. Lots of running through the woods, a strong hand either pushing you foreward or pulling you with him.

When your father had assigned an officer to protect you at the base, you had laughed thinking it was a joke. But when you realized he wasn’t joking, you became angry. You didn’t need a babysitter and the base was the most secure place in miles. It didn’t help that officer Son - like he had introduced himself with a deep bow - was not only strangely quiet and followed his orders with great precision but also was breathtakingly handsome. He wasn’t as bulky as some of the other soldiers but he had brought shoulders and his legs were filling out the uniform pants quite nicely. Not to speak of those full lips that were meant to be kissed.

When the sirens suddenly got off in the middle of the night, he had wasted no time to first barricade your room to give you time to not only get dressed but to pack a few essential items before he managed to sneak you out of the base and into the surrounding woods.

You had never asked where he was leading you, didn’t care anymore as long as the place had running water and something different to eat then the cans you had been eating whenever officer Son seemed fit.

Right now he was walking in front of you, compass and map in his hands, big rifle strung up on his backpack. He had killed people with that. People who tried to either kill you or him. Probably you. You were the general’s daughter after all. But still it made no sense to you why they were hunting you like crazy persons. They apparently had enough people and weapons to attack a military base and take it over. Why would they keep hunting you?

Lost in your thoughts you didn’t pay enough attention to the narrow path your protector was leading you through and your foot got caught on a rather large root. Screeching you lost your balance and suddenly everything went black.

~

By the time you woke up again, it felt like your head had been split in two. Hissing you opened your eyes slowly and tried to sit up.

“Slowly.” A soft but stern voice told you and a handsome face appeared in your vision. “You tripped and fell down a hill. I’m assuming you have a concussion. You also managed to sprain some ribs and dislocated your shoulder as far as I can tell.” That explained why breathing hurt so bad.

“Are we Safe?” You asked softly, your eyes failing to completely focus on the room you were in. The face disappeared for a while before it was leaning over you again, wiping your face with a wet cloth. “I carried you to a little safe house. It wasn’t far. Can you sit up now?”

Nodding softly, causing your headache to get worse, you tried to push yourself up again. A strong hand was placed between your shoulder blades and officer Son basically pushed you up into a sitting position. “These are painkillers.” He explained, handing over some pills and a bottle of water. “Drink all of this please.”

After he handed both over to you, he disappeared from the room again, leaving you to take in your surroundings. You were perched up on a big mattress that was lying in a rather empty room with bare walls. The only other furniture was a really shabby looking green armchair next to the window and a dark brown wooden cabinet. Swallowing the pills that were supposed to make you feel better, hurt even more than breathing. When you tried to lift yourself up even further you hissed loudly. Your left arm was just dangling by your side, not responding to your commands, the shoulder seemed dislocated indeed.

Probably startled by the noise you had made, officer Son came back into your room. He had taken off his jacket and heavy black army boots, just leaving him in the cameo pants, a white t-shirt with rolled up sleeves - which really extenuated his muscular arms - and his dog tag hanging from a silver chain around his neck. “Can you put it back into place?” you asked him, pointing to your shoulder.

The soldier nodded and sat down next to you. “It’s easier when you lie down on your back.” He instructed you and helped you lie down again. “This is going to hurt a lot.”You nodded and gritted your teeth. “I can take it.” He only snorted and took your forearm into his big hands, softly pulling it away from your body. “Please don’t scream too loud.”

Without any further warning he first pulled your arm really hard and then pushed the joint back into place. Accompanied by the nasty crack of you bones you let out a bloodcurdling scream, loud enough to wake a bear from its hibernation in a five mile radius. Tears were prickling your eyes, the pain in your shoulder and your ribs just too much to bear and your vision went black once again.

 ~

When you woke up again, the room you were still in was dark except for the moon shining its silver light onto officer Son’s beautiful body. He had taken off his shirt and pants and was sleeping in the shabby armchair. Someone should be painting this. His facial features were relaxed, plump lips slightly ajar, strong chest moving with the rhythm of his breathing. He was breath-taking.

You had never asked for his first name, thinking it would stop you from feeling a certain way for him which was definitely not professional in any way. But you had heard his comrades call him Shownu which was probably a nickname but it somehow really fit him.

A loud growl originating from your stomach broke your shameless staring. Embarrassed you curled your arms around your midsection, which caused you to wince in pain because your ribs were still hurting.

“You should eat something and let me have a look at that.” A raspy voice cut through the silence. Officer Son had woken up and was stretching his long body. It took all your willpower to not make your jaw drop. The moonlight casted shadows in the dips of his muscular body, making his abs stand out even more. Swallowing dry, you nodded absently.

“I’m afraid it’s going to be canned food again.” He announced when he got up and put his shirt back on. Groaning in frustration - whether it was about the horrible food or him covering up, you weren’t sure – you carefully rose from the bed followed him into the room next door which turned out to be the kitchen – if you could call it that. It was basically a really old looking gas stove, a sink and a couple of cupboards. In the corner was a small table with two chairs that seemed rather unstable. But because of the lack of proper seating choices you sat down anyways.

“I’ve never asked for your name.” You tried to start a conversation because the silence made you anxious. “Everyone just calls me Shownu”, officer Son responded, not turning around from the stove. “But that’s not your real name, is it?” He let out a deep sigh as if it was a burden to actually tell you. “It’s Hyunwoo, but no one calls me that. So if you are uncomfortable with calling me officer Son, just use Shownu, please.”

With that he handed you the can he had been heating up together with a fork. You ate in silence, Shownu’s eyes constantly on you as if he wanted to make sure you wouldn’t choke on your food so he had to safe you yet again. When you were done, he wordlessly took the can and disposed of it.

“Could you take off your clothes so I can take a check you for further injuries?” Shownu asked without looking in your face, slight blush colouring his sun-kissed skin. You swallowed dry, a similar blush creeping up your neck.

“Turn around.” This was stupid. He was going to see you almost naked anyways, not saying anything, he turned to face the door to the room you slept in. Cautiously you pulled your sweater over your head, hissing from the pain that shot not only through your ribs but also your shoulder. “Shit”, you cursed when you saw the dark purple bruise that covered almost your entire left torso, you must have fallen hard. “How hard did I fall?” you asked while shrugging out of your pants as well and putting both items carefully on the table.

“You fell down a small portion of the hill until you were stopped by a rock” Shownu answered matter-of-factly. “Can I turn around?” “Yes” you gave your permission, but still put your arms around you in an attempt to hide yourself.

When Shownu turned around, he first furrowed his eyebrows before his lips formed a smirk. “I can’t check you like that” he stated when he came closer to you. Taking a deep breath you uncurled yourself.

His touches were light as a feather ghosting around the huge bruise and left an almost burning sensation that you were sure wasn’t because of the injury. “Tell me when I hurt you”, the soldier whispered almost, his breath tickling your naked skin and giving you goose bumps. Now checking every rib for fractures, his touch got more intense the closer he got to your still covered breasts. Your breath got stuck in your throat and your heart was continuously beating faster and faster as soon as he touched your upper ribs, fingers just barely grazing the flesh of your boobs.

“As far as I can tell nothing is broken but I can’t quite touch your upper ribs” Shownu confessed when he retreated his fingers. “Sh-Should I take my bra off?” you asked shyly, not meeting his gaze. “I would like to be sure that you are not injured”, he said calmly, “but you don’t have to, if it’s too uncomfortable for you.”

Wanting him to touch you further, to keep heating the fire burning inside of you, you turned your back to him. “Open it.” You whispered, not trusting your voice.

For a while no one was moving. Letting out a deep breath, Shownu suddenly closed the distance between you two and opened clasp of your bra, the garment falling to the ground the only sound in the room. Gently he began touching you, starting a couple of ribs below your breasts, still standing behind you, his warmth was traveling through his shirt onto your skin.

When he reached the flesh of your breast, you held in your breath. You hadn’t been touched like that since you had been ordered to life on the base for your own safety. A whine made its way up your throat and past your lips when his fingers were pressing down harder to feel your ribs. His fingers were stopping their movements for a while before continuing their work. The longer he as touching you, the harder it became to supress the lewd noises you were making and the hotter it seemed to get in the room and between your legs.

Clearing his throat Shownu stilled his fingers. “I don’t think anything is broken.” With that he retreated from you and took a step back.

Already missing his heat and his touch you turned around to face him, not covering yourself this time and looking directly into his eyes. “Are you sure?” You saw his Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallowed, his eyes getting darker and his gaze switching between your face and your exposed chest. “Do…Do you want me to check further?” he asked breathless.

Nodding you stepped towards him, closing the distance and pressing yourself flush against his chest. “You know, Shownu, it hurts a bit right here.” You whispered against his lips before placing both his hands on your chest and moaning softly at the sensation of his rough hands against your sensible nipples. Swallowing again, Shownu softly massaged your breasts and rolled one of your stiff nipples between his fingers which made you moan loudly and throw your head back. Wasting no time Shownu attached his lips to the exposed skin of your neck and sucked harsh before kissing his way up your jaw before he connected your lips in a fiery kiss. Sighing into the kiss, your hands found their way into his messy dark brown locks, pushing him closer to you whilst deepening the kiss. When his hands started roaming your body, it felt like he was setting you on fire with each caress of his fingers. “Hold onto me” he said breathless when he broke the heated kiss for not more than necessary before grabbing your behind and lifting you off the ground. Shrieking you wrapped your legs around him, now feeling his arousal through his boxers touching your ass. 

  Shownu softly lied you down onto the mattress in the room next door as if you were made out of glass, careful not to hurt your ribs further and ripped his shirt over his head. Pulling him down with your hands around his neck, you caught his sinful lips in another heated kiss. When he deepened the kiss further, your tongues dancing and exploring each other, you hooked your legs around him and pushed him even closer. Gasping you broke the kiss when his boxer clad hard-on was brushing against your hot core. “I want you.” You whispered into his ear before you raked your nails down his muscular back, making a moan escape his swollen lips. “I don’t want to hurt you further.” He voiced his concerns but rolled his hips down again, wanting to feel the sweet friction again. “But you want this too.” You pouted, pulling him flush against your almost naked body. “My head says no but my heart says ooh yes.” His last words were drowned in a drawn out moan when his clothed dick was sliding along your wet folds. Rolling your hips upwards again, you asked: “And what does your cock say?” That made him growl deep in his chest and attack your neck with kisses and bites, leaving angry red marks. Slowly he made his way down your body, teeth and tongue playing with your erect nipples before kissing down even further. Reaching your soaked panties, he took the cotton between his teeth and pulled them down. You gasped when the cold air of the night tickled against your hot core.

“Are you sure about this?” Shownu asked again, now kneeling above you. “My head and my heart both say yes” you mimicked his words and made grabby hands towards him, needing him close. He smiled fondly at you not moving from his position. You groaned in frustration, your hand reaching down in between your own legs. If he wasn’t going to touch you, you would do it yourself, sighing softly as your fingers slowly began to circle your clit. A curse left Shownu’s lips, his eyes focused on you shamelessly spreading yourself for him, one of his hands coming down to palm himself through his tight boxers. When you slid one of your fingers into you, both of you let out a deep moan. Slowly pushing the digit in and out more lewd sounds fell from your lips and your eyes fluttered shut when you added a second finger, moving them faster and faster when you felt your orgasm building. “Shownu” his name not more than a sweet whimper. “I need you” you added, desperate because your fingers just weren’t enough to make you fall over the edge.

When you pulled your fingers out, dragging them lazily over your clit and opened your eyes again you were met with a sight that made you even more aroused if that was even possible: Shownu was sitting on front of you, fist tightly curled around his erect cock and his wide blown eyes fixated on you. After dragging his fist up his dick one last time, he quickly sat up and positioned himself between your legs, teasing your wetness with the flush tip of his length. Hooking your legs around him again you pulled him close, letting out a needy whine.

Finally he slowly entered you inch by delicious inch, stretching your walls and giving you that wonderful feeling of fullness. When your hips where flush with his, he leaned down and placed a sweet kiss on your lips. “Are you okay?” he asked softly. “If you don’t start moving now, I’m gonna go mad, Shownu”, you hissed, wiggling your hips to get at least some kind of friction. Chuckling he captured your lips again in a deep kiss and finally started moving his hips in a slow, sensual rhythm. Breaking the kiss with the need of oxygen you gasped loud and arched your back off the bed, wanting to be even closer to Shownu, to melt into his heat, forgetting your injured ribs. The pain shot through you like lightning and made you whimper. “Let me do the work baby, just relax”, Shownu whispered in your ear before gently kissing your temple. “Then move faster, please” you begged him, raking your nails down his broad back. “I was so close.” Kissing you softly he promised: “You wish is my command, darling.”

Suiting the action to the word, he let his hips snap forward more forcefully, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room accompanied by a symphony of lewd sound falling from both of your lips when they weren’t slotted together in a messy swirl of tongues and teeth.

Feeling your orgasm creeping up on you again, begs for Shownu to bring you your sweet release started mixing in with moans that were getting louder and louder. His touch too much but not enough, your whole body feeling like it was on fire. Parting from your lips, he moved to sit up and threw your legs over his shoulders, gripping your thighs for leverage and began slamming his length into you even more forcefully than before, hitting your sweet spot every time. Every coherent thought was wiped from your mind, Shownu reducing you to a moaning and sobbing mess. Releasing his bruising grip on one of your legs, he quickly licked his fingers before circling them fast around your clit. Screaming and lifting your hips off the mattress you were hit by your orgasm. White dots were swimming in your vision and your whole body began to shake and tighten up.

Shownu suddenly let your legs fall off his shoulders and jerked himself fast before spilling his release all over your torso, painting you white.

For a while the ragged breaths you both let out were the only sound filling the room, trying to collect yourselves and calm down from your highs.

“I should clean you up”, Shownu broke the silence, getting off the mattress and leaving the room. Returning soon with a cloth he cleaned his release off of you, still naked. Blushing you covered yourself with the thin blanket. Awkward silence began spreading between the two of you, just staring at each other. Clearing your throat you lifted the edge of the blanket and scooted over a little to make space for Shownu’s big body. Smiling so brightly, his eyes were turning into little crescents, he quickly climbed behind you and embraced you in his big, strong arms.

In this moment, just before you fell asleep, everything was alright: No thoughts were wasted on the fact that you were still on the run and that you had no idea where to go or what had happened to the rest of the people on the base. You were just surrounded by Shownu’s warmth and his comforting smell. 

[yuhimananimegurl]

Myutanto No Jikan

Part 2 of: Kiba Mukidashi No Kemono

Same rules apply. The words in Japanese are bold. This is Part 2 to my original story. Please go check that out if you have not seen it, this will make a lot more sense if you do :) I don’t really know if people will like my story, but hey whatever. Enjoy the story! Please don’t be afraid to send feedback :D And i’ll let you guys figure out some of the myths included, like for one Howaito Man is not a direct answer. ;)

Tsunoki was awaken quite rudely. “TSUNOKI GET UP FOR SCHOOL, OR ILL DRAG YOU!” Of course he knew his mother was joking around, but he also knew if he didn’t he would be in for a treat. As tired as he was, he somehow managed to get up, and get ready for school.

When he went downstairs he would be welcomed by a big, warm breakfast. Maybe fluffy pancakes with, fresh strawberries, and butter on top, with long lengths of maple syrup, fresh from the sickle tree’s in the forest, glazing down the pile. If only he knew how wrong he was. He went downstairs and on the table, was a bowl of cereal not even fully prepared. He poured the cereal, and then the milk, and ate as fast as he could. As he went outside and was greeted by Hina, who was grabbing Tetsu’s ear for teasing her about being 5′5. Of course he had to tease her! What other entertainment was there for a 6′0 teen? Nothing. Not in his book.

“Hey Tsu! Come on we’ll be- SHUT UP TETSU! We’ll be late!” Hina exclaimed. “STOP PULLING ON MY EAR HINA!” Tetsu shouted back. No use. All he got in return was a smack to the back of his head. “Coming!” He said as he started running towards his friends, visibly rolling his eyes in the process.

“Alright listen up nerds. We have an exam today. So Tetsu, stop running into classrooms screaming, that this is all just the matrix.” Hina calmly, with a tint of annoyance said. “No promises!” Tetsu confessed. Tsu laughed at his friends. wait... what? WAIT? WHAT?! They had an exam? Which one was it? He didn’t even get to study! “Which exam do we have today?” he said, trying to contain his worry. “Myths and Legends. Why?” He awkwardly chuckled. “No reason, no reason at all!” Tetsu saw right threw the lie, while Hina was completely oblivious. As Hina shrugged it off, Tetsu broke the silence. “ohhh~ i see! Tsu. Did you study last night?” Honestly, Tsunoki was not surprised his friend saw right threw him. But either way it was none the less embarrassing. “What? Of course I did!” If he had tried a little harder, it would have been believable. “Really? Then which myth took place during, Howaito Man?” Tetsu questioned his friend. “Oh my god. Don’t act like you actually know Tetsu. You’re too dumb for that.” Hina said in disappointment. “True that.” Tetsu confessed. “Um..Well you see.. It was.. Um..” “Wow Tsu, that’s like the easiest myth on the exam!” Hina exclaimed.

He was bound to get an F if he didn’t even know that.

So of course as his friends had thought, he had failed yet again another exam. It only came to him 20 minutes after Myths and Legends, which myth was in Howaito Man. “OH COME ON!” He shouted in the middle of Chemistry. “Hamazu! Stop screaming! Next time, it’s detention for you mister!” He looked around and chuckled slightly before getting back to working on making electricity.

His day wasn’t going very well, but to make it worse, there was a giant rumble, that made the floor shake gravely. Chunks of the ceiling were falling, and soon other teenagers. “Everyone, DO NOT PANIC. Get down underneath the desks now!” The teacher yelled. Everyone was screaming. There was so much blood. Many were either falling from above, dying from sharp plaster, impaling their bodies. Others were being crushed by the falling debris. Either way the stomach churning stench of blood filled the room. Tsunoki was paralyzed, hiding underneath his desk, slowly watching half of his peers die. He wanted to throw up, to cry. But he couldn’t. His body couldn’t. It wouldn’t let him.

As he finally found control of his body again, he found himself darting to find his friends.

As he reached Tetsumono’s classroom, he heard this blood curdling roar. No not roar, screech. The sound pierced his ears like a needle, causing tears to be brought to his eyes. Pushing away the urge to drop and the floor and cry, he opened the door, and found Tetsu hiding in a closet, balling his eyes out. “WHAT’S HAPPENING?! I DON”T WANNA DIE!” The look on his friends face killed him. “I don’t know! But we have to find Hina!” The look on Tetsumono’s face when he realized Hina has on a lower floor, was intense. “LETS GO! SHE’S ON THE 5TH FLOOR!” They sprinted down the stairs, knowing full well they could die in the process. By the time they were halfway down to the fifth floor, they heard the same terrifying scream from before. When i say they they sped up, i mean they started bolting.

They reached Hina’s classroom and the door flew open. What they saw on the other side, will scar them forever. A creature as big as the empire state building, with a half burned face, eyes out of its sockets, veins sticking out of their natural places, blood overflowing its face. “WHERE’S HINA?!” Tetsu screamed in concern, for he did not see his friend in the classroom.

“She went to the bathroom! She never came back!” One of her other friends screamed, tears running down her face.

They started running to the nearest girls bathroom on that floor, and sprinted in. “HINA?! HINA?! COME OUT! PLEASE ITS US!!” Tetsu sobbed. “GUYS?” A feminine voice screamed back. Hina! They thought. They smiled as their friend came running out of the stall. They had no time to waste. They had to hide from whatever that ‘thing’ was. Otherwise they wouldn’t live to see the end of it. Paying no attention to the the rotten smell of flesh, bones, and blood, they ran out of the school. When they saw the creature again, they ran as fast as they could in the opposite direction of this monster. They had found a store with a basement to hide in. They dropped and started crying incredibly hard. For the next few hours, they had to bear the horrifying screams of this, half dead creature. They couldn’t sleep even when it hit 3 in the morning.

For days they were scared to even try to exit the basement, in fear of dying. No matter how scared they were, they were starving, and parched. They had to find something, anything to eat and drink, otherwise they’d perish. So eventually on the third day, they finally talked after, living in silence ever since they made it. “Guys we need to eat.” Tsunoki spoke. “No thanks. I’d rather die of hunger than by that.. you know what i mean.” Hina shakily answered. “Hina, but would you really die, not knowing whether or not, you could have lived?” “Alright then. Lets all go. so that way if we die, we die together.” Tetsu offered. They all nodded to each other, and with the most caution they ever had they left the basement, and quickly scurried to gather as much food- well snacks- as they could. Hina grabbed some Honey Buns, Doritos, Water, Lemon Tea, Onion rings, the freshest Cold Cuts she could find, some bread, and Gatorade. While Tetsu, grabbed band-aids, Sleeping pills to sleep threw those screams that were still occurring frequently, some aspirin, sanitizer to keep from getting sick, and an asthma pump, as he desperately need it. And Tsunoki was gathering, all the electronics he could find, radios, cellphones, computers, headphones to try to prevent from hearing the screeching- He knew they would probably fail, but as long as it’s not as loud- and lastly, firecrackers, to scare away rodents.

They all headed back down to the basement and placed everything on an old dusty table they found in an old corner filled with cob webs.

To lighten the mood Hina broke the silence. “That’s disgusting, more disgusting than when my brother farts.” They all chuckled a bit before getting serious again. “What did you guys get? I got electronics so we could contact people. And not die of boredom. Heh” “Oh my god, thank you. If we even have wifi.” Tetsu thanked. “I got some food, its not much and mostly just snacks but I got some cold cuts and bread. There’s way more up there that i couldn’t get though... I wanted to get back down here ASAP.” Hina answered. “And I got some stuff for our health i guess, like i got some sleeping pills, and some band-aids, you know, that kind of stuff.” Tetsu followed after his friends.

After a couple of minutes they found some wifi, and set up the phones. Of course they had tried to call the police, but they didn’t pick up. They tried numerous times but failed miserably, so they decided to use the phones to watch tik tok. No one in japan really used tik tok, so the tik tok’s they watched were mostly made in America, or in general the United States. There were alot of tik tok’s on the creatures scream, but they hadn’t seen it.

They kept themselves entertained for the majority of it. And after a couple of days, they finally heard the scream again, but this time it was louder...

[rt8815]

Bradbury...and Boogie-Woogie

Two years I’ve agonized over this piece. Two. Years. It’s kinda the reason I started writing this story out of order. Anyway, it’s one of those ‘filler’ chapters, I think they’re called. Not a CM Bingo piece, though I’m working on more of those atm.

Triggers: None, I think.

WC: 2,840

Before diving in, first read Let It Bleed, as it immediately precedes this one.

Bradbury…October 27, 2017

“Hey, New Girl! Welcome-welcome!” Garcia squealed happily, rolling a cart onto the sidewalk.

“Hi, Penelope. It’s great to meet you in person,” replied McKinley, lifting plastic containers off the concrete and placing them on the cart.

“You too, Kinley. Oh my gosh, you’re even cuter in the flesh. Love. Your. Hair.”

“Uh, th-thanks,” she stuttered, unsure how to take the compliment or politely ask the bubbly techie not to play with her amethyst locks. Then Garcia moved in for a hug. McKinley stepped back. “No, sorry. I’m kind of weird about hugs.”

“No need to apologize,” she insisted, pushing the dessert-laden cart through the door. Remembering their lively video chat from the other night, McKinley deduced that verbally and physically affectionate was Penelope’s natural state.

McKinley handed her ID to a grumpy man behind the front desk. “If we get to be friends, I’ll warm up to you,” she told Penelope, throwing her visitor’s badge around her neck.

Penelope’s eyes glinted mischievously. “We’ll definitely become friends. I’ve already decided. You’re a smol bean and you’re my baby now, no arguments,” she concluded as entered the elevator.

McKinley giggled. They chatted while the elevator climbed.

“So, you’ve got the hots for our Boy Genius,” Penelope mused aloud.

“What? No! No, it’s not like that.”

“Oh really, now? Doughnuts, cupcakes, a cake, and Season 10 of Doctor Who on Blu-ray, all to apologize because you accidentally grabbed a handful?”

McKinley’s face burned. “Did Agent Alvez tell you that? Son of a bitch!” she fumed, helping Penelope maneuver the cart into the hall.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” she reassured her. “These things happen.” Her lips pulled into an inquisitive smirk. “Okay, tell me - what’s he packing? We talkin’ Small Flat Rate Box, or Freight?”

McKinley’s eyes bugged behind her sunglasses. “Sweet Lord, why would you wanna know that?”

Penelope shrugged. “Reid’s always so buttoned up; however, I suspect he’s smuggling something impressive under those corduroys.”

“Yeah well, I’m not comfortable discussing that, so keep suspecting.” They rolled through the glass doors of the bullpen. “And to answer your original question: I don’t have the hots for him,” she stated simply as they came to a stop at Spencer’s desk, “and I’m not looking to date.”

“You guys are perfect for each other, though!” Penelope insisted. “You’re a lot alike. You’re both kind, nerd-funny, super smart, reserved…”

“Ha! Remember that last one when you’ve seen me drunk,” McKinley cautioned, opening the containers to check the decorations.

“Hey, it’s Twist ‘n’ Shout!”

She spun, hands on her hips, electricity crackling in her hair. Luke’s grin slipped at the death glare on her face, his coffee mug hovering midway to its destination. After a pregnant pause, McKinley responded.

“Fine, I’ll give you that one…Mocha Latte. Just know that I bite when I have to.” He raised his coffee-free hand in surrender, inching forward to inspect the desserts.

“Get away, you!” Penelope warned. “These are Spencer’s.”

Luke broke into a lopsided smile. “Oh, because of the ‘short and curlies incident’?”

McKinley thumped his arm with a stack of paper plates.

“Ouch,” he chuckled, no hint of pain in his voice.

“That was for telling people about the…awkwardness. Also, yes, it’s part apology, part ‘let’s be friends.’”

Luke raised a brow. “Friends? You got a free preview of the goods and you’re looking to be just friends?”

Her cheeks flushed. “Yes! He’s a lovely person and…I dunno. When we talked, my heart went all squishy and I knew my life would be greatly lacking without him as my friend.”

­“Okay, just remember that opportunity gropes but once, Doc.”

“Alvez, why are you casually discussing sexual misconduct in the middle of the office?” McKinley turned to see a tall brunette woman approaching. She appeared formidable but caring.

“Ah, it’s Dr. Durand! That clears things up,” she laughed, extending a hand to McKinley. “I’m Emily Prentiss, welcome to the BAU.”

McKinley offered a small, awkward wave in return. Emily smiled knowingly.

“How beautiful!” she exclaimed, eyeing the sweet treats. “The attention to detail is remarkable!”

McKinley smiled bashfully. “Thank you so mu- wait, how did you know who I am?”

Emily tore her eyes from the cake. “Well, Penny mentioned your video chat, and Luke jumped in and told us about your encounter with Spencer,” she winked, making a fondling motion with her hand. McKinley’s face flushed yet again.

“Penny spilled about your plan to surprise Spencer, and we got curious. I had her run a background check on you.”

McKinley inhaled sharply, feeling exposed.

“Em!” Penelope squeaked in disapproval. “It’s not like that, love, it’s just- ”

“Spence is like a younger brother to us,” interjected another blonde. “We’re very protective of him. He’s been through a lot, so whenever somebody new enters his life, we’re concerned about their intentions. Jennifer Jareau, by the way. Call me JJ,” she said, not forcing a handshake.

“I understand,” McKinley sighed. “Spencer has that effect on people, doesn’t he?”

She hugged the plates to her chest. “One conversation with him and you realize, ‘He’s a precious cinnamon roll and must be protected at all costs!’ I assure you, that’s my only intention, JJ: to be his friend.”

“Well, that’s certainly a good start,” an older gentleman joined the conversation, pointing at one of the containers. “Chocolate frosted doughnuts with sprinkles are his favorite. It’s a bit clichéd, but there’s truth in the adage ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.’ It follows; you’ve already had him by the b-”

“Rossi, stop! We’ve made enough jokes at her expense,” scolded a woman who introduced herself as Dr. Tara Lewis. “This looks exquisite. Do I smell coffee in the cake? Reid loves coffee.”

“Yes, and there’s plenty to share as soon as he’s had some. Where is he, anyway?”

Luke pointed outside the Bullpen. “He’s down the hall printing handouts for his seminar next month,” he said, sipping his coffee.

“He doesn’t email them?”

“Reid’s a bit of a technophobe,” explained yet another agent, Matt Simmons.

“He still insists on hard copies of case files,” added Penelope. “It broke his heart when we went totally digital.” She glanced over McKinley’s shoulder and grinned. “Speak of the Luddite devil.”

Everyone watched as Spencer staggered towards them, clutching a thick stack of papers. He stopped short when he saw the crowd milling around his desk.

Spencer smiled, confused. “McKinley? What are you doing here?”

“She comes bearing gifts, Big Brain,” Penelope winked. “Apology gifts.” The others avoided his gaze but couldn’t hide their sniggers. Then Spencer caught Luke’s eye.

“You told!” he grumbled, flinging the papers onto his desk.

“If I give y’all food, will you shut your traps about us touching each other’s fun places?”

“No.”

“Probably not.”

“Nope. Sorry, not sorry.”

“Heh, you’re new here, bean. You’ll learn.”

While they lined up to choose their treats, McKinley leaned closer to Spencer. “When does the hazing end?”

“They’ll get bored soon, but that’s when the pranking starts.” He bent forward to focus on the cake properly. “Ray Bradbury?”

“Yeah, Garcia said Halloween’s your favorite holiday, and I know you’re a voracious reader. I put two and two together and ta-da.”

“Let’s see…the lions are from “The Veldt,” and the flowers are from Dandelion Wine, but what’s this one?” he asked, pointing to a swing set and a sandbox.

“The Playground,” she replied, and they smiled at each other self-consciously.

“McKinley, did you make all of this by hand?” asked JJ, marveling at the miniature sculptures.

“Most of it, except my friend Taylor painted the lions, and the chocolate TARDISes on the cupcakes came from a mold.” She popped open another container, revealing police boxes, each wrapped with a Fourth Doctor’s scarf and set in galaxy frosting. “Oh, and I bought the Jelly Babies online.”

“Would you consider making birthday cakes? My boys would love these.”

“Sure thing,” McKinley agreed, sitting in the chair Spencer brought her.

“Sooo, Reid, what are you gonna do for Kinley?” Garcia interjected.

“She’s right, Spence,” JJ concurred, sneaking an extra cupcake. “You’re not innocent in all this.”

Behind her, Luke held two doughnuts, squeezing them suggestively and mouthing ‘honka-honka.’

McKinley scowled at him. “What’re you, twelve?” Turning to Spencer, she continued. “I’d choose a book or record shop, but you don’t owe me a thing.”

“Oh-oh-oh,” Garcia enthused. “Then after, you could watch Who together at your place. He doesn’t have a TV,” she whisper-yelled.

Shaking her head, McKinley checked her phone. “Sorry, time for me to go.”

“Nooo,” Garcia pouted. “Hang with us!”

“Tempting, but I have to meet friends at some bar named…O’Keeffe’s?”

McKinley swore Garcia’s squeal of delight broke the sound barrier.

“That’s where we’re going! We’re all gonna get smashed on pumpkin-y, fall-themed grownup drinks together! Yes!”

…And Boogie-Woogie

The team kept an eye out for McKinley at O’Keeffe’s and were surprised to hear her shout out to them from the stage. She introduced the team to her bandmates following their final set, which consisted mostly of Tom Petty songs as a memorial of sorts, though McKinley couldn’t resist adding The Rolling Stones’ “Fingerprint File” at the end.

They talked late into the night getting to know each other. McKinley sat transfixed as the team regaled her with stories about their cases, one of which revolved around what they called a Vengeful Cinderella.

“Really? With her stilettos? Yikes!” she grimaced, sipping her drink.

“Yeah, but Spence was able to bring her in quietly by playing into her fantasy, acting as Prince Charming to her Cinderella. Got down on one knee, slipped her shoe back on and everything.”

McKinley threw Spencer an appraising look.

“I can see that working. He fits the bill.”

“He also gave me a new appreciation for the original, unsanitized versions of fairy tales. See, I felt that children ought to be protected from harsh realities, but Spence explained that the tales’ intended purpose was to allow kids to safely confront their fears.”

McKinley cocked her head in thought.

“Actually, the intent of those particular versions was to punish women - through some combination of marriage, rape, bodily mutilation and or death - simply for being women, because the Brothers Grimm were a pair of angry, bitter, he-man woman-hatin’, misogynist prick bastards.”

She took a drink and drew a breath before continuing, waving her hand for emphasis.

“Meanwhile, historian Franz Xaver von Schönwerth traveled around Bavaria, transcribing the stories directly from the very people who’d kept them alive in the oral tradition: servants, peasants, laborers - many of them women - rather than reframing them within his own worldview.”

She breathed in again, oblivious to the team’s stares.

“These fairy tales had strong, independent female protagonists in leadership positions. They were the ones having adventures, slaying dragons and rescuing men! Yes, the stories’ purpose was to help children navigate life’s challenges and prepare them for the adult world,” McKinley clarified, “but not at the expense of women’s agency and autonomy.”

Her gaze shifted to Spencer, whose mouth had dropped slightly.

“Unfortunately, Grimms’ Fairy Tales garnered all the attention. Fast-forward and now we have watered down, artificially flavored, saccharine animated films teaching kids that girls are helpless and need saving, and that the boys who rescue the girls are entitled to them. It’s just one more way the film industry has contributed to toxic masculinity and rape culture. Thanks, Disney, I hate it,” she concluded.

McKinley returned to her drink for a few moments before realizing the booth had fallen silent.

“Oh boy, there are two of them now,” Emily snorted.

McKinley scrunched her face in confusion. “Two what?”

“Spence rambles too,” said JJ, in a tone that conveyed mild annoyance and embarrassment at the behavior, almost as though she were apologizing for him.

McKinley frowned at her. She had seemed nice enough in the Bullpen earlier.

“He’s gotten better about it over the years, though,” she added, patting his shoulder.

The misplaced pride grated on McKinley’s nerves.

“Asphinctersayswhat?” She deliberately slurred her words, downing the last of her drink.

“What?” asked JJ.

“Exactly,” McKinley murmured, eyes fixed on her glass.

Before JJ could ask again, Spencer spoke.

“How had I not heard of Schönwerth before?” he wondered aloud, sounding disappointed in himself.

McKinley perked up. “I can lend you my copy of The Turnip Princess if you’d like. It’s a collection of his work.”

“Yeah, definitely!” he said eagerly. “I’m always excited to learn something new.”

Luke leaned around Matt to join the exchange. “I’ll have to buy a copy myself. I read Grimm’s as a kid but I hate to think I only knew biased versions. Schönwerth’s sound much better.”

…

“I appreciate the ride home, Luke,” McKinley called from the backseat.

“Me too. Just don’t get used to hearing those words pass my gorgeous lips, Newbie.”

“No problem, happy to do it,” he answered, laughing at Garcia’s drunken antics.

Under the cranked-up radio, McKinley addressed Spencer.

“Thanks for your text that morning after the park. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Thank you for insisting on the wellness check.” He paused, fiddling with his messenger bag and smiling thoughtfully. “You know what? I’m glad we met.” 

“Hey, is this the right place?” asked Luke.

McKinley peered through the window.

“6565, yeah that’s the one,” she confirmed as Luke parked.

Penelope waddled across the driveway.

“I have to see your tiny house - the outside I mean, since I already got a video tour of the inside. Guys, it. is. Adorable,” Penelope gushed.

“I thought you lived with Taylor and Jaimie,” said Spencer, pointing to the porch.

“I’m parked out back,” McKinley explained, unlocking the gate.

Penelope gasped. “I almost forgot! Can we see your baby too?”

“Absolutely! He loves meeting new people.”

Luke closed the gate behind them, carrying McKinley’s guitar. “Wait, what? You have a son?”

“Weeell, sort of…” McKinley twirled around, landing on her knees, arms spread out.

“Boogie, baby! Come to Mamma!” she bellowed.

A multicolored mass of fur burst through the door and made a blurry beeline for her, knocking her fully onto the ground.

“I missed you too, buddy!” she cried as the dog assaulted her face with kisses. Sitting up, McKinley faced him towards the group.

“Look! I brought new friends. Boogie, this is Luke, Penny, and Spencer. Guys, this is Boogie.”

“Boogie?”

“Yes, Mocha Latte, Boogie. Short for Boogie-Woogie, which comes from the Bantu phrase ‘mbuki-mvuki.’ It means ‘to dance wildly, to the point of ecstasy.’ I didn’t have a name picked out when I brought him home, but when I put my music on shuffle, the first song was John Lee Hooker’s “Boogie Chillen’.” He started shaking his butt and tapping his feet. No other name would’ve sufficed.”

He approached Luke, slowly at first, then promptly shoved his snout into the man’s crotch.

“Boogie! Manners! I raised you better than that.”

“That’s okay, I know it’s the dog version of shaking hands.” Luke knelt to give him more attention. “You’re just introducing yourself, aren’t you? Yeah. You probably smell Roxie, huh buddy.”

“You have a furbaby too?”

“Yeah, a Belgian Malinois. What’s Boogie?”

“A Border Aussie. Mom was a working Border Collie and Dad was a show Australian Shepherd. He got Mommy’s smarts and Daddy’s derpiness.”

Penelope bent over to scratch Boogie’s ears, surrendering herself to sniffs and kisses. “If you two don’t have playdates at the park, I’ll dognap them and take them there myself.”

Boogie seemed to wag his assent, shuffling over to Spencer and nosing his hand.

“N-nice doggie,” he stammered, gingerly patting Boogie’s head.

McKinley stood, swaying slightly on her way to the door. “I better grab that book while I’m thinking about it. Keep our guests entertained, buddy.”

They heard her rummaging inside, talking to herself. “You were here just the other - aha!”

She reappeared, waving a tattered paperback. “It’s dog-eared and coffee-stained,” she sighed apologetically, “but it’ll read.”

“Well-worn is high praise for a book. It shows how much it’s been loved,” Spencer reasoned, climbing the stairs to the small porch. 

“Take your time with it. Some things aren’t meant for speed-Reiding,” she joked, handing him the book.

A comfortable silence settled between them for a minute.

“The swing set on the cake is an inedible figurine, by the way. That night, sitting on the real swing…I dunno, it seemed to comfort you. Now you have one to keep on your desk.”

McKinley couldn’t decide if ‘impressed’ or ‘perturbed’ better described Spencer’s expression in that moment.

“It’s late, guys. We should head out,” Luke yawned, handing McKinley her guitar.

“Night-night, Lovely! We’re having that knitting bee at my place next weekend, just us.”

“Sounds great, Penny, but I’m nervous about knitting in the round. It’s intimidating.”

They waved their goodbyes as they returned to the gate. “Don’t worry, Auntie Penelope will teach you all she knows.”

McKinley retreated into the warmth of her home. She climbed into bed, beaming to herself.

“A whole new group of friends. Imagine that, Boogie! I’d only dared hope for one…”

—

“There are no faster or firmer friendships than those between people who love the same books.”Irving Stone

@illegalcerebral @dreatine @cynbx

Others let me know if you’d like to be tagged.

[groggycascade]

Ballbusters Anonymous, Pt. I

This is the beginning of a promising story by squishednuts that was never completed. Pt. I is the original author’s work, Pt. II is my continuation. I may take a swing at Pt. III, but if anybody else wants to do so please be my guest. 

“One, we admitted we were powerless over ballbusting and that our lives had become unmanageable. Two, came to believe that a pow-”

The droning reading of the steps did little to rouse her from her crazed stupor. She’d been a few days clean, her cells on fire to deliver a kick or elbow to some poor sap’s balls. Holding it all in was unnatural. That was part of the program, about how natural ballbusting is, which makes it one of the hardest things to quit.

“Hi I'm here for th-” the man set in with a sparkly lisp, after peaking his head in through the slightly opened door. Forty sets of lustful hungry eyes bore holes in the seat of his pants, as if by their combined internal wills, he'd telekinetically hover to the center of the room and offer his balls up for sacrifice to their group need.

One of the old timers gave him directions to the gay ballbusters anonymous meeting at the community center across the street.

How do they manage discussing ballbusting in a room full of balls? She wondered, trying to put a lid on her fantasies of rushing the guy outside for a quick knee before leaving these inane meetings once and for all.

“Are there any newcomers in their first thirty days of sobriety who’d care to introduce themselves? This is not meant to embarrass you, but just so that we can get to know you better.”

She raised her almost shaky hand halfway, dropping it quickly.

Eyes fell on her and a silence hovered about the room.“You're supposed to introduce yourself now.” A woman whispered, a few seats beside her.

“Oh, I’m Zoe, Ballbusterholic, and I have three days, I think.”“Hi Zoe” the women replied in eerie sync.

“Tonight's chairperson is Tiffany! And with that, I hand the meeting over to you.” The secretary of the meeting said, relaxing into her chair.

Tiffany wore a soft blue business suit, which despite its flat geometry did little to hide her huge watermelon bust.

“Hi I'm Tiffany, and I'm a ballbusting bitch!” she flashed a sharky smile.

The group laughed as she broke protocol by not addressing herself as a Ballbusterholic.

“Hi Tiffany” they offered in sync.

“Before I start I just wanted to say I almost relapsed today.”The room grew silent and serious.

“I have this employee, he's new and young, and I asked him to do something for me and he did everything so wrong I felt like he was just trying to spite me. He stood in my office smuglike despite his offense, and it took everything I had to not pull his balls out of his trousers and staple them to my desk right there” she stared into the floor, through the floor, into memory. Her face frozen in a grimace. “Thank you for bearing this with me, it helps to admit it, I know you all can relate.” She began to breathe again, getting back into the rhythm of the group.

Zoe crossed her legs tightly, dizzy with the thought of stapling a young man’s balls to a desk, she clenched her teeth and tried not to get wet.

Tiffany continued, “My story starts when I was a little girl playing with my brother. I saw these dangly things in his underwear and grabbed them trying to pull them away, 'Mine now!’ I screamed at him, thinking he had an extra toy. He curled up and screamed and cried, begging me to stop. I think this next part is where it shows how I was always different, just born this way. But instead of letting go, I squeezed those things harder… I liked how it made me feel to see him like that. To make him like that. Not long after my mom rushed in and I feigned innocence and she taught me all about boys private parts and why not to hurt them, unless you're in danger.”

Zoe was blind with lust and unusually vivid visualizations of the begging crying boy. Her eyes were closed and her brow furrowed.

“For the next few years I was a ballbusting devil. All my mother taught me was: don't get caught.” She gave a toothy grin as her audience smiled and giggled in mutual understanding.

“You know, I'm ashamed to admit it, but I'm honestly shocked my brother’s testicles remained in tact. Any one of the stunts I pulled could've ruptured one or both of his testicles… I just thank God that never happened.”

A small sea of concerned brows sided with her, as Zoe saw through the charade, seeing how secretly delighted and powerful Tiffany felt, especially in implicitly competing with these other women for brutality to testicles.

“What's worse, and what I'm coming to grips with now, is the realization that I wanted to rupture his nuts. Not just one, no no no, none of this 'He can still have kids and have sex’ nonsense. I wanted both of them. Ruined. What kind of sister wants to castrate her own brother?!” She asked, incredulously with a self-deprecating air.

“When it came down to it, that's how I felt about most men my entire life. How, secretly behind each kick, knee, elbow, punch, and every kind of blunt instrument I used to convey testicular harm, was the intention to fully destroy each set of balls.” She relaxed into the table, her humongous breasts squished across it. Half the room shined green with envy.

“I succeeded three times...all in one night… and that's when I hit bottom. It was a typical alleyway mugging, whatever you're picturing, that's it. They weren't expecting my bear mace, and as they writhed on the ground. That's when I did it. I started kicking one over and over. All my rage translating into those kicks. You see, I'd been trying to white knuckle it for a while. I hadn't hurt any balls in months, I was being good. But we all know how when we relapse, we often go to the extreme end of things. It's just how the pendulum swings, as my sponsor says. Anyways, I was kicking him and it felt so good. I didn't want it to stop. I didn't call the police or call for help. I made the rationalization in my head that I just wanted to humiliate them, and that's why I started unbuckling their jeans tugging them down to their ankles. But we all know how our rationalizations work, everything is always so innocent. Once their balls are exposed I keep kicking the one guy, I mean, really kicking him, his balls are bleeding a little. I crouch down and grab them, they're so soft now, and I just squeeze as hard as I can. I watch the flesh conform in my grip as it splurts out besides my fingers. He passes out and I almost do too, it was such a rush! Feeling them squish to mush inbetween my fingers. I didn't even know his name but he's forever changed because of me. The other two muggers were still moaning from the-”

“Ahem!” Coughed the secretary, before interrupting Tiffany fully, “This is a meeting about recovery, sharing our strength and hope. Please hold off on the excessive details of ballbusting. Thank you.”

Zoe was delirious at this point.

“Nutting those three muggers is integral to my story though, I wouldn’t be here without them, but alright.” She turns to the main body of the meeting, “If any of you’d like to hear more just ask me after the meeting!” she chimed.

She continued her story of recovery, sparing the details on the one thing Zoe wanted to hear about.

“The topic of the meeting will be… our small victories. Not the kind we even tell other people, but the kind we acknowledge on our journey. One for me is I showed up tonight even though I was nervous and felt like dodging it. I try to get out of my own way, because coming here keeps me sane and it's where I need to be, Lord knows.”

“Is this a tag meeting?”Secretary whispers.“Oh ok. Then I'll tag.. Marissa!”

Marissa was a bronzed viking of a woman, tall, blonde, more than amply endowed by the way she filled her shirt.“Hi I'm Marissa and I too, am a ball busting bitch!” She grinned the same as Tiffany, though it seemed more feline than sharky.

“As most of you know, I'm a mother of three boys, which has its challenges for any mother, but for one of us.. Those challenges run a bit deeper. Just the other day Ralph broke an old item of furniture my mother left me after she passed, and it was only through the work I’ve done here, in this program, that allowed me to spare his balls. I just left the house, went for a walk. If this happened years ago, when I was younger, I wouldn’t have cared if he’s my son, he would’ve lost a nut from the battering I’d give him. And well, that’s one of my little victories. I didn’t explode, or make him explode” the room softly chuckled, “and that’s what this is about for me. Great topic by the way, I mean, it’s one day at a time, and everything in life worth accomplishing happens one small victory at a time. Anyways, I think I’ll call on.. Grace!” she finished, settling deeper into her seat. The next woman tagged was a pale skinned brunette with an upturned nose in her late 30s, her thin gray sweater did little to hide her braless torpedo breasts, “I think it's important to talk about what brought us here.” They jiggled as she spoke animatedly, “Even if it's uncomfortable for some of us to hear. Every meeting is different and every story is different, we shouldn't all try to tell the same story. What helps one of us doesn't help all of us. And castration is part of the story that brought me here too. I just don't see how admitting that I skewered my ex-husband’s testicles with a kebab stick,subtracts from any meeting. By the grace of his heart he never pressed charges, but everything had to have come together the way it did to bring me here, now. And I call on.. Ashley.” As she finished talking she folded her arms, squishing her sweatermeat out of her arms way.

Are all the busty women here castrators?! The gray sweatered woman had to have at least EEs when she reigned them into a bra, and Tiffany the speaker, had impossible breasts, probably JJs. Zoe wondered about the others as she glanced at the mass of breasts spread across the room. Apparently her own overfilled C cups were the smallest set in the room!

Lost in thought she hadn't realized Ashley had finished her short turn, and called on the newcomer, which was her.“Uhh.. okay.. I'm Zoe and I'm a ballbusterholic..”

“Hi Zoe!” they rang, again in unison.

“I'm not as advanced as a lot of you.. I mean the worst thing I did was kick this guy at the mall so hard he puked everywhere. While he was curled up though, I knelt down and grabbed his hands away from his balls and stomped on them a few times. I was so angry I didn't want to stop stomping him. I don't know who he was though or if I ruptured any. I guess it gives me a rush, knowing I might've caused him permanent damage. And that's why I'm here. It got to the point where I needed to do it everyday. I'd go loiter around public places waiting for certain guys to pass by, you know, the ones who you just know aren't gonna tell anybody about it or do anything.. I don't know how much I'm supposed to share. But even guys I liked, when I'm about to give them head.. I just bite their ba-” “And thank you so much for sharing!” the secretary interjected, a bit too late. As everyone knew what she was going to say.

“And that’s all the time we have for tonight! Great meeting girls! Let’s close with the Lord’s Prayer and I’ll see you all next week!”

That familiar chorus of murmuring enveloped the room as everyone began to stand, encircling the room. As Zoe joined hands with the women next to her, she wondered how much testicular destruction these feminine hands had wrought. She shuddered pleasantly at the thought. She just might enjoy going to these meetings after all. After the meeting, Zoe rushed over to the chairperson, Tiffany. "Oh hey, hi, um, great story! I was wondering if you could, you know, um, tell me the rest of the story? You know.. with you and those guys? In the alley?" Zoe spoke quickly and excitedly, hoping for the best.

[eternityunicorn]

The Doppelgänger: Part Four +18

Author: eternityunicorn 

Genre: Romance/AU

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x OC x Joel Goran 

Warnings: Smut, pure unadulterated smut!

Summary: An unexpected and rather unusual patient arrives at Hope Zion; a woman with white hair and sapphire eyes that were aged much older than one who looked so young. Everyone is fascinated by this strange person, but none more so that Dr. Joel Goran. The woman looks at Joel as if she knows him, but he knows he doesn’t. Just who is she and why does she look at him like that? And who is Elijah?

NOTE: OC is from my up and coming novel series!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Thank you to everyone who has read this little tale of mine. It is so appreciated! Truly, it is. Please, if you’re liking this fic and if you haven’t already, check out my other fics: Elijah’s Eternity, it’s on-going sequel Elijah’s Eternity: New Orleans, Brothers - a Elijah x Eternity x Klaus fic, or my on-going collection of Elijah x Eternity centered oneshots called Elijah’s Eternity: Smutty Oneshots. There is a link in my blog profile to all of my fics. I’d appreciate it! Finally, this is the last installment of the Doppelgänger, so I hope you, my lovelies, enjoy it! Thanks again for reading!

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The doors swished open and together, the trio exited, with Elijah on once side of Eternity and Joel on the other.

There were a few strange looks from other patrons and staff of the hotel as they went because of the clone-like similarities between the doctor and the vampire, but neither man or their lady noticed. They were each preoccupied with getting to the hotel room as quickly as possible. The anticipation and desire drove them on to the second elevator that would lead them to their destination. 

Again, neither man touched Eternity. Instead they stood beside her on either side like bodyguards, standing protectively by the pale beauty, as they rode up to the room. The ride was swift. It wasn’t long before they were off the elevator and heading down the hall to the door at the end of the corridor. 

Elijah unlocked the hotel room’s door and allowed Eternity to enter first, then Joel went inside next at his insistence. The vampire followed behind them, shutting the door behind him quietly. 

Eternity immediately let Elijah’s coat drop to the floor as she moved further into the lowly lit room. Joel followed her as if he were hypnotized as Elijah fell into step beside him, walking with him. They both stopped moving toward her when she turned to them upon reaching the foot of large king sized bed. 

Joel broke his gaze from her when he saw the vampire taking off his suit jacket and laying it fluidly upon the arm chair near the bed. Then he proceeded to undo his cuffs and roll up his sleeves to his elbows. The whole time the other man’s hot gaze was upon the beauty whom waited patiently for them to make a move. 

Then Elijah looked at him with a small smile as he gestured toward Eternity, “You are our guest, Dr. Goran, so please? After you.”

Joel nodded to the darker version of himself, before turning his gaze back to the waiting goddess. He moved toward Eternity quickly, wrapping an arm around her tiny waist when he reached her with his other hand cupping the side of her neck. He grinned down at her briefly, before his mouth descended upon hers in a slow, sensual kiss. 

In return, the pale lady reached up to trail her fingertips along the stubble of his jaw with one hand and the other ran along his still clothed chest. Their mouths danced together as their heart rates climbed along with their mutual desire. 

Joel couldn’t help but to run his hands over her smooth skin. The hand cupping the side of her neck trailed downward over her shoulder and her arm, then along her side until it rested on the roundness of her backside. He pulled her hips flush against his own, feeling her grind against his clothed cock, of which was already hard for her. 

He groaned into Eternity’s mouth needfully, feeling more than ready to move things along. 

It was at that moment that Elijah stepped into the picture. Despite being preoccupied, Joel could feel him nearby. It was as if they were connected and he could sense the other man’s movements without having to actually see him or what he was doing. Perhaps there was some kind of psychic link between them, allowing such a phenomenon to exist.

Elijah moved around Eternity to sit behind her at the foot of the bed with her standing nearly between his parted legs. He let his hands run over the contours of her backside. His mouth soon joined his hands as he laid open mouthed kisses to her spine and the globes of meaty flesh in his hands.

It was fascinatingly strange. Joel could feel every graze of skin that the vampire felt on his own hands, as if he were the one touching her backside; though his hands hadn’t moved from their original places upon her body. He could even feel her skin on his own tongue as Elijah tasted it, despite his mouth being preoccupied in tasting the ethereal beauty’s. 

Eternity moaned into Joel’s mouth at the sensations both men laid upon her body. She clung to him, rocking back into Elijah’s wandering hands and mouth. Then she moaned louder when Joel’s darker version ran his hands around the front of her, over her stomach and then downward slightly to slip between her legs.

Joel could feel the wet warmth there on his fingers of the same hand as the vampire, despite having not been touching her there with his own. It was a wonderfully erotic experience. Feeling what Elijah was made the surgeon’s own hands itch to touch her intimately. 

The wanting was too much to bear and Joel pulled his mouth from Eternity’s, having decided his patience was very thin and that he needed more. 

“Mate, I’d like to move things along, if you don’t mind?” He said to Elijah, while gazing needfully into Eternity’s burning sapphire eyes. 

Elijah pulled back from his attentions unto the woman between them, with his hands coming to rest on their lady’s hips, causing her to groan in disappointment at the loss of pleasure between her legs. “Of course, Dr. Goran,” he replied, looking around Eternity’s form to grin at him. “What did you have in mind?”

“I want inside her - if that’s alright, of course,” Joel spoke to Elijah, while keeping his dark lusty eyes upon the goddess’s. When his mirror image nodded in agreement with his request, the doctor carried on, “I was thinking of bending her over and taking her from behind.” He ran his fingers over her plump lips and along her jaw as he said this, watching intently as she then bit on her lower lip seductively.

“I like the way you think,” Elijah smirked. “I can busy myself with her delectable mouth, while you do so. Though just a suggestion, do no bother in disrobing completely.”

The surgeon broke his gaze from Eternity’s and looked curiously at the vampire, “Why not?”

His doppelgänger grinned filthy, “She simply does not prefer it. She enjoys the feeling of her lover’s clothed body upon her skin, while she remains bare. She likes the vulnerability of it. Isn’t that right, Sweetheart?”

Eternity smirked as she reached over and played with the striped tie he wore coyly. “Aye, this is true,” she said to him. 

“Well, if that’s what the lady wants,” the surgeon replied with a smirk of his own. 

He quickly spun the ethereal woman around to face her vampire lover, making her squeak slightly in surprise. With her biceps firmly in his grasp, Joel pulled her downward until she understood his direction and fell to her knees before Elijah, who stared at his lady with a lusty excitement. The surgeon watched as the other man’s breath quickened as he stared down at her so close to him, knowing exactly what was about to unfold per the arrangement made between them. 

Eternity ran her little hands up Elijah’s clothed thighs as she seductively leaned closer and captured his lips with her own. Joel watched as they kissed passionately with a devouring hunger. It was an amazing sight made better by the fact that the other man had his face and that he could sense every touch she put onto the vampire. It was like seeing his fantasies in real time. 

Then the beauty cupped the vampire’s covered cock and began massaging him through his pants briefly before reaching to undo them. Elijah leaned back on his hands, breaking their kiss in the process while he stared hotly down at her. All the while, Joel felt her touches on his own covered cock, which only made him burn more.

The mortal surgeon knelt down behind Eternity, running his hands over the smooth flesh of her back and down over the contours of her backside, taking a handful and squeezing the firm globe. When Eternity leaned over further and began to lick and tease Elijah’s cock, the doctor busied himself with dipping his fingers between her legs from behind. He caressed the warm wetness he found there, before thrusting two fingers into her. 

Eternity moaned around the vampire’s cock at the feeling and pushed back against Joel’s hand. Her mouth moved over Elijah in time with the thrusts of his fingers. The human watched the goddess’s head bob on the the other man, finding it exceptionally fascinating. It caused his own needs to rise even higher to heights he didn’t think possible. 

Before long Joel couldn’t stand it. He needed to feel her wrapped around him. With a few more thrusts of his fingers, he withdrew completely. Eternity groaned in disappointment, but he only smirked. 

The surgeon deftly undid his own pants and pushed them out of the way enough to release his raging hard on. He was ready to take this woman before him. Without hesitation, Joel moved into position, rubbing his cock along Eternity’s wetness until he was lined up and then slipping inside of her with one hard thrust of his hips, joining their bodies. 

The enteral woman gave a muffled cry around Elijah’s cock when he did and he groaned with his eyes screwing shut at the sensation of her wrapped around him tightly. Taking her hips in his hands, he swiftly began to move, pulling almost all the way out and then thrusting back inside harshly. He did this over and over again with Eternity’s muffled moans encouraging him.

Joel opened his eyes and continued to watch her suck Elijah’s cock. The vampire had threaded his hands through his lady’s hair and had begun to thrust into her mouth, taking control of her movements. He gazing up at the other man briefly, seeing his eyes had screwed shut and his mouth was agape as he panted in pleasure. It was odd to see his own expressions reflected back at him in another person. He swore he might as well be looking in a mirror.

The doctor carried on, thrusting harder and faster as he began to climb higher in pleasure. Joel wanted to take Eternity with him when he fell over the edge, and so, he moved one hand from her hip around to play with the hidden jewel between her legs. She moaned louder and thrusted back against him, all the while keeping her mouth occupied.

Higher and higher the three of them climbed together. Elijah thrusted into one end and he into the other of the woman between them. It wasn’t long before the vampire was crying out as he orgasmed into Eternity’s mouth and she swallowing everything he gave her greedily. It was hot and prompted the other participants to reach their own ends as well. 

With a few more thrusts Joel fell apart, taking Eternity with him as he did. He emptied into her as she clamped down around his cock and spasmed in an intense orgasm. Finally, she released Elijah’s still hard cock from her mouth and cried out into the room as the waves of her orgasm took her. 

The surgeon shook with the intensity of his release and wanted to collapse upon her back, but manage to remain upright. The woman beneath him quaked as well. For a while there was nothing but the sound of the trio panting as they came down from their pleasure induced highs. 

Then once they had calmed, Joel removed himself from Eternity’s warmth and sat back on his haunches, feeling quite euphoric. The ethereal woman sat up as well, gazing up at Elijah whom smirked back down at her with a renewed lust in his dark eyes. After a moment, she turned around to gaze back at him with a mischievous grin all her own.

“I believe it’s my turn,” Elijah said behind them. “Come here, Sweetheart.”

Eternity immediately went to him. The vampire kissed her sweetly, before he moved back further onto the bed until he sat against the headboard. The goddess followed him, crawling onto the soft surface while giving Joel a wonderful view that had him hardening all over again. 

Once she reached the other man, he turned her to face away from him, positioning her over his hard cock. Eternity grinned filthily at Joel as she grabbed Elijah’s hardness in one hand and sank down onto the vampire with her eyes trained on him the whole time. She held out her hand while the doppelgänger gripped her hips and moved her over him effortlessly. 

Joel obeyed her beckoning and crawled onto the bed, coming to kneel before her in between Elijah’s outstretched legs. She immediately kissed him with her tongue thrusting into his mouth, letting him taste the essence of his doppelgänger there. He wasn’t repulsed by it, a surprise lack of reaction to be sure. Instead, he embraced the flavor, kissing her back hungrily.

While his mouth was preoccupied, the goddess reached down to wrap her hand around Joel’s renewed erection and began to pump him steadily in time with Elijah’s thrusts into her body. He groaned needfully into her mouth, enjoying her touch upon him while feeling his lust reignited by it. 

He reached out to cup the side of her neck with one hand as they continued to kiss passionately, while the other one trailed down her body to cup and caress her breast tenderly. Then he let his hand fall further down her body, to touch between her legs again. She moaned pleasurably into his mouth and pumped him faster. 

Elijah began to move Eternity faster as well, making her bounce over him harder as they all began to climb higher in pleasure. It wasn’t long before each of them was reaching their peaks once more. Each caress was becoming more erratic along with each thrust, until all three were crying out as they found completion for a second time.

Joel came all over Eternity’s hand and stomach, while Elijah released deep inside her body and the goddess herself came upon the vampire’s cock. Each set of eyes remained opened as they stared at their lovers coming apart, enjoying the sight. 

Finally, feeling exhausted, the human amongst the otherworldly slumped against Eternity, who held him to her with the hand that hadn’t been around his cock. He rested against her shoulder while she remained positioned over Elijah with his cock still buried inside her. 

“This has been amazing,” the surgeon breathed as he planted light kisses to her neck where he had buried his face.

“Aye, I agree,” she whispered back with a smile in her sweet voice. “I know I shall never forget it.”

“Nor will I,” he agreed.

It was then that Eternity gently pulled him from the crook of her neck. She looked regretfully at him, which alerted Joel. He gazed at her with concern, but didn’t say anything, having chosen to wait until she had spoken whatever she needed to tell him.

She placed her hand upon the side of his head tenderly, caressing his face as she said, “I am afraid that you will forget. Mortal men like you are not meant to know of otherworldly creatures like me, like Elijah. Such knowledge will drive you mad. So I am afraid that tonight is but a dream to be lost and forgotten like dreams do upon daylight.”

Joel didn’t like that. She planned on taking his memories after all, as she had with all those people at the hospital. He wanted to protest, to try and change her mind, but the words died on his lips. He could only stare at her with disbelief and silent pleading.

Then before he could say or do anything, the world around him went dark. 

***********

The morning came and Joel awoke in his bed as he always did. He felt a little groggy without knowing the reason for it. He had gone to bed early, knowing he had to be up in the morning for his shift at the hospital. 

The surgeon showered and when he got out, he noticed something peculiar upon his neck. It was a dark purplish mark like a bruise, but it wasn’t a bruise. He knew it wasn’t. He recognized a hickey when he saw one. But how the hell did it get there? He hadn’t had company over last night. It’s presence made zero sense; a mystery.

Joel got ready for work, while trying to wrack his brain for answers about the strange mark, but came up empty handed. There were fuzzy visions that were too blurry to make out. Decided not to driving himself mad, he gave up trying to understand and headed in to the hospital.

The morning at Hope Zion had been busy as always and some of the other doctors had noticed the mark on his skin, but none dared to mention it. His reputation preceded him, it seemed and nobody felt need to make comments about the hickey, figuring the playboy had simply had a wild time the night before.

Nobody said anything to him, until Charlie Harris came up to him during rounds with a playful smirk upon his lips. “Somebody had a good time last night,” he said to him, eyeing the purple mark. 

“Yeah, I only wish I could remember it,” Joel replied honestly, with a bit of frustration. 

“A very good time then,” his fellow orthopedic surgeon grinned, tapping him with his clipboard in a friendly gesture. 

Joel grinned and shook his head at Charlie. He was about to quip back, but a flash of white caught his eye behind the larger man that gave him pause. Like a magnet, he moved toward it as it moved around the corner into the ER waiting room. He went into the busy room and found nothing. The white apparition had vanished.

“Hey, Dr. Goran,” Zach came up to him, “Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Unsure of what he had thought he seen, Joel slowly replied, “Yeah, I might have, mate.”

Defeated and believing he was going insane, the surgeon turned away and headed back into the ER, back to his job, back to his life as one of the best orthopedic surgeons around. He never saw the white-haired goddess standing outside the hospital entrance, watching him with a small smile upon her rose pink lips before she vanished like the ghost he claimed her to be.

The End

[mewsomniac]

Down the Hatch

♡ Fandom: Kingdom Hearts ♡ Genre: Romance ♡ Summary:

The Black Pearl's crew celebrates the demise of Lord Cutler Beckett with food, drink, dancing, song, and pleasurable company. But what happens when a curious Sora gets into the rum? [SoRoku pirate fic]

♡ Words: 15,000~ ♡ Ships: Sora/Roxas ♡ Rating: T ♡ FF.net: Link ♡ AO3: Link

[Click Here for Mew’s FF Archive]

Down the Hatch

Drink up me hearties, yo-ho.

Disclaimer: All characters in this fanfiction are 18 years of age or older.

I do not condone underage drinking. Thank you.

          Death and bloodshed had taken the day, as did salt and gunpowder. Somehow, the future was just as clear as the sky, which glittered with the lights of a million worlds. Drinks and merriment rocked the legendary Black Pearl, a revived Captain Jack Sparrow standing at the wheel. His drunken, smug face was turned happily toward the eternally unreachable horizon as the ship bustled with joy. Will was gone, sworn to eternity by the Flying Dutchman as the reaper of souls lost at sea. Elizabeth had already gone to spend one last day on land with him, leaving her pirate companions behind for love.

          “‘Ere, boy,” Barbossa squaked at Sora, double fisting two dusty bottles. “What’d be yer fancy? Per’aps some wine. May’aps some rum, for a true-blooded pirate?” He took a long pull off one of the mouths, then cackled in glee. “Blast it all, take both. Drink up!” He shoved the bottles into the young man’s grasp, then sauntered off into the crowd.

          There was no way he could finish both of these on his own, but Sora knew exactly who could help him. He slipped between the folds of dancing pirates, and over to where Roxas was standing. The blond was draped in bluish-black Singaporean robes that did well to clutch his body in all the right places. He was leaning against a mast, watching the chaos around him in quiet wonder when Sora popped up to hand him a bottle.

          “What’s this?” Roxas asked, examining the dark mystery fluid inside the amber glass.

          “Might be wine, might be rum, I don’t know yet. Let’s find out.”

          Roxas turned a dubious eye to him, “I’ve never had alcohol.”

          Sora shrugged, “Me either. What’s your point?”

          “Why the temptation?”

          Laughing, Sora swung his arms out in a grand gesture to the scene around them. “Look around! The crew, the sky, the sea—free booze! We’ve seen so much death and rebirth and life… and we could die at any second. I could lose you in the blink of an eye.” He saw Roxas’ expression of shock and realized what he’d said. Blushing, he did his best to backpedal, “I just… Barbossa gave these to me, alright? And I figure, why not. Let’s live a little.”

          “Are you sure? It seems a little reckless. Crazy even.” A mischievous look graced Roxas’ face, and it gripped Sora’s heart in tenderest of ways. “Who knows what could happen?”

          He bowed, channeling his inner Captain Jack Sparrow, “Welcome to the Caribbean, love.”

          Rolling his eyes, the blond replied, “Okay. We are official pirates after all.” He was about to bring the bottle to his lips when Sora stopped him.

          “I want to try something,” He locked their arms. “There. Wedding style. Ready?” Roxas gave him a curt nod, and in tandem they go to take a swig from their respective bottles; Sora muttering “Down the hatch.”

          Roxas got the wine. Sora got the rum.

          They both choked on the bitter burn, coughing between laughs. Then, working carefully, they forced themselves to down as much of the acrid liquid as possible.

          The night was a blur. They snuck more drink passed Mr. Gibbs, and shared bottles with one another, wishing it wasn’t secondhand lip-contact. They played games, and gossiped, and laughed, and cried with the crew. When they became separated for a time, Sora lost his coat and hat in strip Fanorona, and was in the midst of unbuttoning his blouse when Riku yanked him away for his own good.

          Then, Sora heard the shanty. It was beautiful like a siren’s song, and he couldn't help but follow the refrain like a fish on a hook. He trailed it through the air, pushing through the drunken crowd to find the source.

          It was Roxas, his voice clear as a bell amongst the gargling masses of drunken sailors. Roxas danced and sang, easily catching onto the melody of whatever song burbled in the air. No amount of rum and wine could stifle it's perfection. Sora was a ship ready to crash headfirst into the rocks. And so he did.

          He zeroed in on his target, and kissed the other man so fiercely that Roxas dropped the bottle he was holding in surprise. The resulting crack of glass hitting deck made no difference to the raucous cadence of the sailors as they crowed away at their pirate song. Soras lips were rough and chapped from the ocean air, yet wet from the drinks and now also from Roxas' own alcohol-drenched lips. Sora led him away to a little shaded portion of the ship beneath a set of stairs by the captains quarters, and kissed Roxas some more.

          Stripping himself away from the brunet’s lips, Roxas leaned in close, lips hot and suddenly flush against Sora's ear "I want you."

          Sora whispered back, "Down. Below the deck."

          In their state of intoxication, they found no need for formality.

          Sora led him down, down the steep stairs that should have killed them upon their clumsy descent. Down into the dark, empty recesses of the ship he only knew glimpses of. They went forth until they found a door with a broken padlock, perfect for hidden escapades. The storage room's floor was swollen with moisture, and a variety of mismatched crates draped with taught tarps glowed ghostly in the moon’s illumination. Sora found a lantern and it's light gave the dank surroundings a unique coziness.

          Sora's shirt was red like the wine they guzzled, yet stained redder still from the day's bloodshed. Their skin smelled like sea salt, blood, gunpowder, and want. Despite all the drink, they were thirstier than ever before. Sora practically ripped away the delicate silken clasps holding Roxas' robe together, and Roxas dazedly struggled with the Keybearer's "godforsaken belt", as he'd labeled it. Amidst kisses, they were barely able to properly undress. Their alcoholic breath hung in the heavy air, bearing into their senses.

          Roxas’ skin was even milkier

          in the moonlight.

          Sora’s skin was even more tan

          in the lamp light.

          They were like two glowing deities

          adrift at sea,

          clinging to one another

          like the day reaches for

          the night.

          The way darkness yearns for

          the light.

          They inhaled cold damp air and exhaled pleasure.

          Roxas was granted plenty of warmth from the lamp glow and the gift of Sora's touch.

          Sora left traces of lust between teeth and skin, left trails of love from lips to veins.

          They were just at the peak of the high, still so far from going down down down.

          The vertigo was setting in, but it wasn't the sickening kind of spin that brings a drunk man to his knees...

          No, it was the kind of spin that made one aware of gravity, of the world tilting on its axis as it barrels through the dark of space. The kind that reminds one of their small connectedness to the universe as a whole.

          Nails sinking into flesh, fingers tousling hair.

          Eyes that were like his but different,

          The same way the sea and sky reflect light.

          Perhaps a thousand beautiful things left their mouths, but it all turned to mist in the groggy air.

          If they’d been listening, they could have heard the shanty  drifting down from the deck above...

          "Down the hatch,

           We'll light the match

           And set the seas ablaze…

           We'll drink till morn,

           And never scorn,

           The things we've done these days…

           So bottoms up,

           We'll fill 'er up,

           The songs we always play…

           Sunset to rise,

           The tides are high,

           So down the hatch, today …"

Exeunt.

A/N: The shanty “Down the Hatch” is an original song written by me.

I don’t know why, I laid awake one night thinking about Down the Hatch Classique (can be read in the next chapter) and couldn’t stop imagining ways to rewrite it. I kept writing down little bits and pieces of it on paper at school, or in my phone at work and before bed. Then, the news suddenly broke at E3 that PotC was coming back for KHIII! If you’ve been keeping up with my social media, you’ll know that I had a massive freak-out. What a beautiful and amazing coincidence this is! I decided I’d dive right back in and finish this redux project of mine.

I kept going back and forth between making it a long-form poem and a short story, until I finally settled on a little of both. The first section could still use a little work, but I really love where it is now and I wanted to share it.

I hope you enjoy the new version of one of my favorite pieces of writing from long ago!

-+-

Please please PLEASE favorite, follow, review, send kudos, add bookmarks… anything! I’m still happily taking positive constructive criticism, too! I am always looking to improve my writing.

[dollsted]

The Wolf

The woods are lovely, dark, damp, and deep. They hold many things and take to your grave the secrets that you keep. The earth beneath their roots have bellyfuls of swollen meat, the crows are circling above, savoring the sweet treat. They dive and soar gliding on a stale breeze, they move effortlessly down through the bough of the trees. And when they are perched upon your shuttering frozen shoulder, the gleam in those witch cauldron specks, wait patiently, sinisterly eyeing you until you draw your last forsaken breath. And when you finally feel all hope drain from your body, your final thoughts are that of you wish to be no creature’s meal, but if only you would have told someone, that you were to wander within the dark wood, but now you still. Paralyzed by regret, as the crows lunch lies beneath his talons, finally dead. It gives a hearty triumphant caw! Snapping its beak into waning warm flesh, the last thing one saw is the spindly arms of the trees, mockingly pointing at another victim that will decay beneath its depths.

The book lay lazily against the tiny frame of a woman lulling beneath a large juniper tree. Here her long lashes fanned over her rosy cheeks as bits of sunlight filtered through the rustling leaves coyly tempting her to wake. It was safe to doze during the day when the world was still being warmed by the suns noon zenith, but as twilight began to ascend the preview of what was to come in the following months reared its ugly head in the teeth of the night’s icy temperatures.

As the woman laid unaware of the time fleeting from her and apex of the day squandering in a threatening gloom of icy fingers, she was blissfully unaware of any of it. But the breeze that bit at the parts of bare skin peeking from her dress, and the flashing dying embers of the sun above the tree shook about to get her attention, all signs went unnoticed with no avail to her waking. The trees watched her as if someone plucked her from one of the tales in her book and gingerly placed her here making sure to fan out her chestnut hair, paint her lips the color of pale roses, and thoughtfully completed the ensemble of the sleeping beauty by giving her the task of falling asleep to a good read and propped the book pages down against the gentle fall and rise of her chest.

But with cold comes the cruel hissing upon the wind which lashed its forked tongue into her ear causing her to bolt upright with a start. The world was far dimmer than when she had set out that afternoon determined to get through these morbid poems for the sake of having something to do other than sew and cook. The light was a lens and she knew that any moment now it would wink and there would be no more light until twelve more hours when morning would creep through her shutters. Urgency got her to her feet. The book protested when the pages met with the ground with an oomph.

She saw the pale thumbnail lazily look upon her at the base of the trees and a smattering of stars was yawning awake in the blue and black sky. She touched the skin upon her bare throat realizing she could no longer afford to leave her house without the protection of a shawl or jacket. Now more than ever she wished to have the heavy fabric in her hands when this afternoon it had been too hot to even think on it. She straightened herself making sure all her bindings upon her corset were secure and hadn’t come lose for she was guilty of being one to toss and turn in sleep. She found it suspicious that she had lied this still as if the trees had weaved a foreboding spell upon her as she dreamt. Then again as she gazed upon the title on the spine of her book she dashed that thought away and knew her silly spell had been all the working of that poem she read before she fell into a nice slumber.

She felt something crunch as she moved and plucked the few leaves that had crumpled into her hair before making for the trail. The summer equinox had been fighting on with every last might it had and Lily was grateful for it. She was dreading the winter. Two winters ago her village had almost starved, it had dragged on miserably and despite the large amount of food they had all stashed away, the brittle cold stayed stubbornly though March and just barely petered out to the middle of May. Normally March was when the snow gave its retreat and they could begin the plowing season or hunting but that year had been so miserable and terrible that hunters who went out in search of game were lost to the cold or buried beneath the squalls of storms.

Since then, she hated winter. The only part of it she liked was during the silent snow falls or when she would wake to the mornings of golden sun allotted to peak through the ribs of the forest showcasing the frozen thatches that clung to the limbs. They glittered and dazzled reminding the forlorn that there was something more other than this chaos. She prayed the meat wouldn’t be too frozen this year to thaw when the scrape of their bellies would be hungriest. The frost was brief to those who worked the ungodly morning when the first rays of light hadn’t yet settled upon the earth and they spread world that the frost had begun. She felt the weight of those rumors now as each thicket of grass crunched beneath her flats with a satisfying crunch like fresh lettuce plucked from the fields.

She could see the little chilled bumps of the snow that coated each blade like lace. Her breath plumed around her and her body began shaking. Not from the darkness of the wood. She could hear the last few people working the fields and coming back from a day’s hunt barreling to the village. She couldn’t help but smile thinking of the giant magnetic force that called upon all her people once the night threatened to cast its veil over the hardworking hands seeking sanctuary in their homes. The constant hum of axes breaking wood over and over at all hours of day until now had driven her mad. She knew it was for everyone’s hearth to keep them warm but they had been preparing for this since winter broke in March as expected and now it was almost November. She supposed they wouldn’t stop until the first blanket settled. Her and the other women collected peat to start the fires and she could smell the damp earthy substance stocked in her friends’ homes every time she entered to deliver whatever she was assigned to that day. Lily was known as their main delivery woman. She always had her signature red cape and hood so those who needed her could pick her out and beckon her to their hearth. She was also famous for the large woven basket she practically had fastened to her arm.

She worked just as hard as the others and was always kept busy so it was no surprise to any of them when they saw her slip away to the wood for a bought of peace every once in a while. She was always being hounded over. Deliver this bread here, give this peat to these thirty homes, make sure this list gets to blah blah blah. At least she was getting exercise and tokens for her hard work. She enjoyed the tailor the best. He always fashioned her practical shoes to wear for every occasion. After enough deliveries he generously offered to make her custom shoes of her choice. She had asked him for boots lined with the softest fur from rabbits to keep her feet warm. He had imported the lining of seal skin to decorate the base of her boot to keep from any of the water from seeping into it. The fat from the animal had definitely kept her little feet heated and never once had any slick cold snow saturated into her boot. Her socks and stockings were always humming with warmth.

The flats had a rubbery material that kept her feet comfortable for the hours she had to spend walking and standing but also put a spring in her step. She also had a pair for mud, for deep snow, and even for the summer time. Now he was probably the wealthiest man in her village thanks to her advertising the magic that each pair she wore protected her from the elements during any occasion. His work became advanced. He graduated to tougher hides like cow, moose, and sometimes lining them with parts from animals that had the most fat for winter like bear. It kept ones foot insulated and toasty. So now she was thankful she was gaining ground to get to her home.

She placed the Tales of the Dark Marrow of Mother Marrow into her basket and pulled out a scone one of her earlier deliveries gifted to her. She munched at the buttery texture of the crumbling delicacy and wondered to her home at the outskirts of the town. Unlike its twin to the east her village didn’t have a giant wall to greet her. The torches were lit, candles in windows guttered at the rising spouts of wind trickling through the drafty cracks of windows, and a large glow illuminated her path a stark thirteen feet in a giant halo. Her people welcomed the natural beauty of the land they had built upon and didn’t fear the things with teeth that lurked in the woods like their twin to the east.

There were rumors that drifted to them when friends and family made their way in the summer to trade what our land could not provide and whispers among the people told of a grand story about a wolf or bear dragging off with straggler children who were not within the safe confines of their homes during the night. Since then a giant wall had been commissioned. I remember my neighbor taking a leave of absence to help with its construction, but he brought back another tale about its origin in which someone was said to have seen a giant swooping creature like a witch come down from the bough of the trees and steal away babies in the night to sustain their immortality.

Lily had shuttered at the thought and begged him not to go into any more detail. How could a human being come up with such disgusting and disturbing details? I unlatched the heavy bolt to my door slipping inside and making sure to lock myself inside and lock it. I wasn’t afraid of the things in the wood more than certain people in our village. Though we were peaceful like every large group we had those who still found ways to cause trouble and turmoil within the ranks of our society. I preferred my privacy. But when you delivered things to every nook and cranny of the place you reside in people sometimes hold you captive in order to talk or vent their frustrations. In a way it was nice having all these secrets that I wrote down in a leather bound journal hidden in a small slot on a very high beam of my ceiling. But holding terrible secrets was also dangerous. I was once approached by one of the Bucksy brothers, three in total, the oldest and largest one wishing to sequester information on a black smith. When burning his fingertips over the fire hadn’t worked to loosen his tongue he decided I would be better to squeal. I insisted on my innocence and I was thankful for my neighbors return that day for her kept a suspicious eye on Buck as I shut my door feigning to be tired from the days work.

I told Rika about what had happened, this being my neighbor, and he vowed to be there as much as possible when he wasn’t spirited away to other parts of the village to work. I prepared to cook a nice stew, Rika had left a rabbit hanging on the slot of my roof dangling terrifyingly in my face when I returned home. I set to work on shearing away its poor little limbs and carving it into chunks and cubes letting the meat cook in the fray of bubbling veggies I plucked the night before. Next I chalked my hands with flour letter the sour dough bread rise in the brick over, the small mouth yawning when I opened the door and slid the pudgy jiggling frame against the stone and closing it once more. I gathered my gooseberry jelly readying it with a butter knife and sat to wait for all my food to work in harmony.

I pumped a bath from the little lever in my bathroom and slid into the confines of the hot water after making sure the chimney from the hearth where my fire was baking the soup was open beneath the tub and the flames licked at the belly of it warming it until I killed the vent by switching it off and slid scrubbing away the skin of the earth I collected during my afternoon nap. Rika had helped me construct my home and told me where I could lead little pipelines like arteries to a heart beneath my home in order to make things a little easier for a spinster to work herself. He was my childhood friend, my mentor, as he worked her came home and tutored me in the ways of men. In return I taught him to read and write as we grew up and even traded certain secrets about certain corrupt people here. I trusted him to keep them as much as I trusted my dog at the time of his life, to stay by my side and warn me of intruders of animals prowling the grounds.

We learned behind our doors, keeping silent when we knew the tutelage of converting ours secrets to one another would be viewed as immoral and blasphemy. Women were meant to do the mending, cooking, and washing. Men were meant to do the labor, the hunting, the hard work. But our exchanged advanced our limited scopes and we better understood the boundaries we were forced into.

I enjoyed inventing things the most. In the confines of my home I had learned that a lady could shave the hairs on her legs and underarms by fashioning the tip of a man’s razor blade and carefully filing the tilt of the blade to an angle in order to get closer to the skin. With a steady surgeons hand I stroked up along the grain of the follicles and sighed contently stroking the tips of my fingers over the silk left behind from the razors bite. In the summer I didn’t dare hide the nakedness of my legs like the others did with long skirts, or bulky wool stockings. In fact I was one of the rare few who allowed her skirts to barely brush against the calf of my knee. Men gawked, women scowled, and all the while I was a wonderful liar claiming I had always been less…blessed with hair. I giggled thinking how ridiculous this all sounded but couldn’t help it.

My people were not ignorant as to think women were witches, but the village also being repressed with certain ways of thinking also made it a fine edge to keep in line. I did my duty without complaint, without rumor, and without causing unnecessary drama so therefore any of my other strange habits weren’t brow raising. Rika and I heavily leaned on one another for that. I would claim he got me wood and I paid him in meals or pennies, and in turn his house was cleaned by me scrubbed and organized. But the reality was we both did the domestic duties to our own households. I could hear the angry gurgling of water, the hissing of flame as the tears bubbled from my pot, and I pulled on my slip grateful the shutters were facing away from the neighbors view. It clung to my drenched form as I pulled the lever holding the pot away from the hearth. It fluidly held the pot outside of the fanning flames which angrily simmered back down and the bubbling surface smoothed save the heavy soup and chunks peaking from the top.

Now to wait for it to cool. I scooped a hearty portion out as well as turning the vent off over the burning coals of the brick oven and letting the bread stiffen out before settling into my chair Rika had gifted to me for my name day five years ago. He had plumped up the frame with goose feathers which now were formed to the shape of my rump and my legs rested on the ottoman as I flipped through the book of poems I had stashed in my basket. My large red cape was resting on the peg by the fire. The poor worn thing needed a bath of its own that morning before I departed to the hairline of the woods

I never was one for being scared but I had taken an interest in fashioning my own poems, so I studied the only book we had at the library. Mister Driskell had pleaded for an educated woman like me to quit the foot traffic business and work in his shop. There were a handful of educated women here aside the ones determined to forsake their education to open bakeries, and shops. Forever destined to live a life of powdered palms and greased elbows. I preferred the freedom of lazily being beckoned to the dregs of the wilderness. Even here in my sanctuary most of what was outside was here inside. I had found a few tools used by the Indians of the north, scattered at the heart of the forest. I found rocks with unique surfaces, crystals, shells, antler bones the felt still clinging to the abandoned skulls of the deer.

I found my favorite poem of all. Not the one about the poor little bird sitting upon a branch minding her own business eating berries when a cat sneaks up and eats the full little bird, the one about the yellow eyes in the wood. I found wolves to be beautiful when they weren’t in packs and starving. She caught glimpses of strays or forsaken rogues as they roved the floor of the forest. Their stark coats contrasting against the earthy tones, others defied the colors of nature itself. Some seemed to be sculpted from the clay of the roots beneath them barely keeping them visible until they blinked or moved. They were curious about her as she was about them. She sketched them and gave them names. Her favorite she called yellow eyes. He had dark black fur the color of the sky at midnight, but those blazing gold orbs that pierced through her drew her in. She wondered what instinct he followed. Where he’d been. He liked to visit her during the spring and winter. She was expecting him to be here soon. When the snow would cling to his contrasted soft coat and gingerly lay upon his black lashes of tar.

She found the poem in her book symbolized him perfectly and that was what she called him. Upon closer inspection of her getting up early one morning and waiting to watch and put to paper anything more on this particular subject, she was drawn to the large paws. Most of her kind would claim them to be large paws of a killer but she was drawn to the faint tuft of white curving along one of the pockets of his toes. His large onyx claws protruding from the white like a black sleet mountain against a December morning. But she needn’t look to that to know it was her wolf. She could just tell by the understanding stare they now came to share whenever he was passing through. Usually he was on the scent of a moose from the night before, but in the wee hours of the morning when she’d open the hatch to her shutter and peer out at him three tree links in, he would pause and look at her. Nose slightly twitching as if he caught her scent on the wind suddenly. His ears would perk, his mane along his throat shook as he let the tangle of rain mist away and he continued on with his prowling. She watched the gentle sweep of his tail scrape against the forest floor and giggle when a leaf would drag along with it.

She spoke aloud:

“ Be wary when you walk into the wood, for you might not like what you find, be careful what you see in the wood, for you might not like what you catch in between the trees. Be wary of the large things with teeth, the larger the berth the quieter its feet, beware of the ancient things born from roots, it doesn’t matter the soft tread of your boots. Be cautious of the hearing of the wind itself, for your fear carries upon its shelf, beware beware oh do please take great care to have a pointed object of your own, because the hunger that aches in the ancient things is unshakable and it lives within its skin, it creeps and quivers to the bone. It acts on instinct, it does not rationalize with logic, oh dear little stranger be wary not to wander, because while your thoughts are jumbled with the things you must ponder, the thing with teeth it sees you always and it knows how to creep. Watch your step the forest is against you, one wrong move and a snap of a twig and you’ll be dead before you can even rationalize it. Watch oh watch and when you have to squint, remember the things that tear you apart don’t have to think, they don’t strain to see, they come upon you with vengeful need. Oh watch oh watch where you go because if you get lost, it doesn’t need to know, if you can’t find the direction of your home, the thing following you merely continues to roam. “

The title appropriately named Yellow Eyes. And that was the name she had given her wolf.

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The spinning of stars and the rise of the moon pulled like the tides at the aching chest of the beast that sat panting beneath the juniper tree. His muzzle was pressed to the ground which was still pressed by the weight of one of the animals that lived in the large huts outside his home. He knew that scent. It was made of the same things he was made of. But the animal smelt like the wildflowers he ran through during the hot days. He enjoyed the shade they offered and the scent wasn’t too bad either. Even if it was arduous and potent and hurt his nose a little, he knew the other enemies that could creep up on him would find it just as distractingly annoying and move on. So when his matted self, collapsed beneath the sweeping petals and leaves of the flowers he found it easy to sleep.

He pawed it the ground raking over the earth to find more of her smell buried beneath but it faded with the turn of his paw. He ground his nose until the dirt clung to the wet perspiration of his nose, which he sneezed away in a fit of ten snotty exhalations. His head was spinning, like the strong winds that he felt would be coming very soon. Their shrieks assaulted his ears and when it was deafening to hunt outside he saddled himself inside an abandoned cave or overturned roots of a tree. The depression allowing his body to fold into a lump circle as his tail fanned over his face. He enjoyed the laziness of his day today and was excited when the familiar smell drew him to this very spot. She was here. He knew she was female but still was unsure what kind of animal she was. She walked like a feline yet didn’t have hair like one…she wasn’t bulbous like a bear, or grumpy like a moose. Her kind were always smelling, looking, and sounding different. Some were angry at his presence, others fearful, but hers was at ease. Maybe she was like him. He also knew she was female based off her pheromone trail.

Today he could tell she had bathed in the dirt like he sometimes enjoyed rolling in, sometimes the patches could be stinky but those days were for when his enemies wanted to hurt him, but for some reason she stayed a long time rolling in this dirt bath. He wondered why…there were no other hairless animals that followed her, no dangerous smells, but her scent was very strong here which meant she had been here for more than one arch of the sun in the sky. But why…? He followed the odd smell of her feet that had strange hooves on them, sometimes they were furry like a bears…but this one was stinky like the animals in the large wood stacks had made them. He watched her slip into her stack of tree trunks and limbs and waited for her to open the square part that showed her face but she never came. He could see in the cracks of the wood illuminate and knew she was in there but dared not go closer. That man with the large sharp thing was outside by her log pile breaking down more saplings.

He didn’t like the things that glint. Perhaps they plucked large teeth from creatures that were taller than the trees in his home and fastened them to sticks? During a close call when he was a pup one almost bit him. He wondered why the animal didn’t use his teeth after he bared them but instead swung the giant tooth that was curved and a pale silver bit into his side. The pain it brought made him forever cautious. His mother had warned him of such things. ‘your snooping will get you into trouble. Just stay away from the hairless squirrels’. But on his own observation they were not small like the little creatures he could catch and kill. These things were bigger, meaner, and brandished monster teeth. He least liked the long sticks that made noise like thunder and was followed by a terrible bite that ripped through muscle and bone. But nothing had been by him and yet white hot pain ripped through his shoulder blade forever causing a small niche over the curved wing. But she did not have any of those things. She did not yell at him to move on, did not have monster teeth or long sticks made of thunder. She watched him as he had once watched ‘the giant squirrels’ as a pup. And he loved her distinct scent.

When the glow had dimmed and the homes went quiet, he dared to approach and sniff at the border of her stick home. As he arched his head to the sky he could smell the faint remains of something that was dead. The little string that fluttered in the wind still holding strong smells as it whipped in the wind. Whatever was there was probably eaten. There were logs piled along the outside wall which he wondered why one would hoard logs? Sure squirrels hoarded nuts, and owls mice, and bears fat for the winter, but why would she want all this? He wondered if it was surrounding something in its center and gingerly poked his nose against the hard edge of one of the rings. One log toppled from above his head threatening to crush his skull but he was quicker and darted from it. Don’t disturb them he thought as he continued his perimeter search.

He smelt the last place she was at and put both pads on the door butting his nose to one of the slits in the large flat log taking in deep breaths. She was definitely in there. He wanted in. He wanted to smell her, to relish in the feel of her fur. Maybe…he could roll on her to capture some of her pheromones. He could also in turn rub off his and let the other males that surrounded her know he was in his care. But he didn’t understand the magic they used and couldn’t make the flat wood budge. There was a distant soft song calling him on the wind. His ears perked. He recognized that scrape, those little thumps. Rabbit. Just like what was hanging on that string. Now he was hungry for that, his stomach rumbled and he knew it was time to fill it so he stalked off once more into the wood vowing to come back before the winds would hold him up somewhere warm until it was safe to hunt once more.

a03 : f0rce0fnatur3 

[nao-hime]

Do You Remember || Makoto Naegi x Reader

I know it’s been a long time since I updated! I’ve been incredibly busy, but since I had time today, I decided to work on another chapter.

To explain the plot (like always): Makoto and the reader have been dating for a while now, but the reader is caught in a horrible car accident and ends up in a coma. This is just him visiting her every single day and remembering their times together, hoping that by reminding her, she’ll wake up.

I hope you guys enjoy this!

   You hate the cold, especially when it rains. When it rains, it pours, and when it’s combined with the wind, you better hope you have a coat.

The torrent of rain leaves a crisp scent on the breeze, masking the pollution that taints the air. Freezing fingers rake down your back as the downpour cascades in endless icy sheets. The sun sequesters its warmth from behind a dense layer of dull gray clouds, forcing you to rely on your coat for precious heat. The frigid wind croons its shrill song as its gales slice at your exposed face, whipping your hair into disarray. Your frozen hands are unable to tie my hair back, your fingers stiff with cold.

Your feet slosh through the silver puddles that continue to expand as the deluge poured from the heavens. As you breathe the invigorating air, your breaths come out as puffy white vapors that spiral into the air before dissipating into nothing. It’s days like this that remind you how ruthless the weather can be.

The streets are practically vacant, aside from the young woman wandering aimlessly, and the occasional stray that darts for shelter. A lone car flashes its headlights as bright as a wolf's piercing, hungry eyes as it drives prudently through the deserted boulevard. It sweeps around the corner abruptly, spraying water all over sidewalk. You jump out of the way just in time to avoid being drenched by the glacial water.

You stop at the corner of an intersection. Even through the wall of gushing water, you manage to check both ways before crossing. You see nothing that could endanger you, so you begin trudging across the street, careful not to slip in any puddles.

The road was clear. You know it was. And yet it happened. How are you supposed to know someone was tearing through the streets, not even in the right state of mind?

Without any warning, the car slams into you at full-force.

You don’t feel the agony until you crash to the ground, dull thuds stippling over your body and contorting your neck into an unnatural angle with a sickening crack. A potent surge of pain travels up your back while at the same time scattering down your arms and legs. A frightened scream pierces the air. The car comes to a screechy stop, its headlights blinding you, but you have no control over your eyes, which stare lifelessly at the blood-stained concrete ground.

You’ve always wanted to fly. But never like this.

   A certain brown-haired male heaved a sigh as he stood outside the door of your room. His feet shuffled anxiously, his hands tightened their grip around the bouquet of flowers, while he constantly blew at the stray hair that just wouldn’t move. Though he had done this many times before, he could never seem to go in right away.

It was because of the fear that you would not be there.

He placed one trembling hand on the door handle and twisted, taking a deep breath before pushing it open. His hazel eyes scanned the room, searching for any distinct differences—specifically a lack of your presence. Thankfully, there you were, laying speechlessly in bed with your eyes closed.

The light that filtered through the window bathed your face with an ethereal glow. Your hair pooled around you like a halo. To him, you appeared as an angel. A silent angel.

Two months had passed since the incident. The incident where you had been hit by a car and induced into a coma. The only indication of your life was the slow rise and fall of your chest, and the steady beep of the monitor next to you. The doctors had said it was unlikely you would wake up, but he refused to believe that. He had hope that you would wake up, and the two of you would be reunited. After all, he had plans. Great plans, and he wanted to go through with them.

Makoto Naegi seated himself in his usual chair beside your bed, placing the flowers on the table. He stared at you, taking in your beauty. You were stunning, even when you weren’t awake. Although others might find this tedious, Makoto thought that watching you was absolutely fascinating. Time passed, but what made it go faster was when he spoke to you.

“(Y/n), do you remember when we first met?” inquired Makoto thoughtfully, tilting his head slightly. He dropped his hand over yours, careful not to fumble with the IV. Bad luck tended to follow him, and that had seeped into you a few times in your relationship. And yet you never blamed him for it. “I remember…you were Komaru’s friend, visiting from school. She was so excited to introduce you to the family because we kept teasing her, telling her that you were just her imaginary friend. None of us were surprised when you showed up in the flesh. But…” Makoto felt the heat rise to his cheeks, tinting them a light pink. “I remember how I tripped, and we both fell to the ground. Komaru accused me of trying to grope you, and Mom and Dad were horrified because I broke your arm. But you forgave me.” Makoto sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. He still blushed whenever he thought of that utterly embarrassing event; he claimed it was bad luck, but you said it was good luck.

“It brought us together, didn’t it?” you would always remind him, flashing your signature smile. Makoto was always amazed when he saw you smile. Whether you wore cosmetics or not, Makoto thought you were always breathtaking.

But you were right. Had Makoto not fallen on top of you, his entire family wouldn’t have forced him to visit you in the hospital to formally apologize. He would’ve done it anyway, but it was because he had fallen on you that he visited you.

You liked to make the joke that he “fell in love with you”. Though it was true, Makoto did not really like being teased, especially about that certain event. And yet you were unashamed to tell anyone who asked how you had met.

Anyway, because Makoto had visited you once, he was instantly intrigued by you. You were so forgiving and kind and overall very pleasant to be around. Makoto was partly pleased and sad to hear that you had your own stroke of bad luck; even before Makoto had met you, you were in the hospital a lot due to your clumsiness. So you were used to it, as you claimed.

Double the bad luck did not help your case.

As much as Makoto yearned to ask you out, he knew that not only would his parents be infuriated, Komaru would probably be upset if he tried to “take you away”. He could definitely see why Komaru was so attached to you; there was not another person like you. And though Makoto wanted nothing more than to ask you out on a date, he respected your friendship with Komaru too much.

Apparently, though, his feelings towards you were evident, because Komaru intentionally set you both up on a date. She had told you both that she had the “perfect person” in mind, and gave you directions to a restaurant. Needless to say, you both were very surprised upon seeing each other.

However, Makoto had never been more grateful for his sister’s intervention. Usually, she embarrassed him in front of his crushes. But now, she seemed serious about hooking him up. Part of Makoto believed that it was because she wanted you to be her sister-in-law.

Which was originally going to be the case.

Makoto slipped his hand into his pocket and withdrew a small, velvet black box. He couldn’t bear to pop it open. A dejected sigh passed his lips.

Just my luck…

The two of you had been dating for over a year. He had been waiting to ask you out once you were in college, so that a) he wouldn’t go to jail and b) so that his family wouldn’t kill him. But then Komaru decided to set you up. Now that you were in college, Makoto had graduated (because he was four years older than you), and was living on his own. Still, the two of you would visit each other, though it was mostly Makoto visiting you because you didn’t want to travel too far from campus.

Now that you were a sophomore in college, Makoto felt ready to ask you “the big question”. He had been planning on asking you to marry him. There was nothing that he wanted more than to be with you for the rest of his life.

…but now that you were in a coma, that kind of put a damper on things.

But Makoto had complete faith that you would wake up. You had to wake up! Otherwise…what else would he do?

Unable to bear the sight of his broken plans, Makoto dropped the box back into his pocket and proceeded to talk to you.

   Sometimes, Makoto visited you alone, because there were memories that only he could share with you. Other times, he came with someone else. Namely his sister, Komaru.

The news had hit Komaru really hard. But Komaru was tough; she recovered quickly. Komaru visited you the most out of anyone; with the exception of Makoto, of course. The only reason Komaru was unable to visit you as much as Makoto was because she was still busy with college. So she made Makoto promise to say ‘hi’ to you for her every single day.

Makoto’s parents visited too, but once every month. They never said it, but Makoto could tell they didn’t think you would recover. The only reason they even came was to make Makoto think that they had faith. Really, they wanted him to move on. To find someone else rather than “wasting his time waiting on you”. Although Makoto knew they were only thinking of him, whenever he thought about how they thought you were a lost cause, anger bubbled underneath the surface of his skin.

Some of his friends would accompany him. None of them had known you personally, but they knew how important you were to him, and they wanted to offer their support. All of them were mixed with their beliefs; some thought you still had a chance, while others disagreed, saying there was no way in hell you would come back. In the end, they all agreed to just stop visiting, otherwise they risked exploding into another dispute. And the last thing Makoto wanted to hear was despair coming from his own friends.

A big surprise Makoto received was when the driver who hit you visited. At first, Makoto was utterly enraged that he had the audacity to visit you when he was the cause of your state, but then he learned that it was a complete accident; it was raining heavily after all, so it was difficult to see, and the roads were slippery. The man also displayed signs of great sorrow for what he had done.

He wanted a moment alone with you, but Makoto was reluctant to allow that to happen. Makoto rarely ever left your side, even when the nurses came in. So he was unaccustomed to leaving you alone—especially in the presence of strangers. Eventually, the two came to an agreement that Makoto would remain in the room while the driver said what he wanted to say. After that, he never visited, and Makoto did not hear from him again.

One day, when visiting you, Makoto thought it was strange that he never saw your family’s name signed on the visitor’s sheet. You never talked much about your family, and since you were not keen on doing so, Makoto decided not to pry. But now he was definitely curious as to why your family was never here.

“Hey, Komaru,” he said, earning a hum in reply. “Do you know why (Y/n)’s family is never here? I don’t think I’ve seen their name listed on the visitor’s sheet.” Makoto was careful with how he phrased it; Komaru was not one to spread secrets, and if it was about you, then not even God Himself could elicit a response from her.

Komaru raised an eyebrow in his direction. “Why do you want to know?”

“I just think it’s peculiar…Surely they want to visit their daughter?” Makoto’s heart pounded as he waited for Komaru to speak up. There was a part in him that dreaded the worst and that already anticipated Komaru’s answer. Was (Y/n)’s family out of town? Had they disowned her? Were they dead? His mind went in so many different directions with each explanation being crazier than the last.

“Well…It’s not really my place to tell you. But I suppose that you ought to know,” Komaru conceded. Makoto struggled to keep the smile from rising to his face. After all, he didn’t want Komaru to back out just upon seeing how happy he was. “(Y/n)-chan is an orphan. She never met her dad because her mother had her through in vitro fertilization, and her mother died when we were in middle school. Ever since then, (Y/n)-chan has worked really hard in order to sustain herself.”

Makoto froze. You were an orphan? How come you had never told him? His eyes fell down to your still form. Betrayal stung his chest. Makoto had believed that you would go to him with her troubles, but he supposed not.

It was as if Komaru could read his thoughts, because she continued, “(Y/n)-chan never told you because she was afraid…afraid that you would reject her or something.”

“What?” spluttered Makoto, his head instantly raising. “Th-That’s ridiculous! Why would she be afraid of that?”

Komaru shrugged. “I don’t know. But if you ask me, I think it’s because she was a little insecure about how well-off we are, while she’s barely surviving on her own. Maybe she thought you wouldn’t want her if you knew her situation.” Her eyes were glazed over with sorrow and guilt, almost as if she had put (Y/n) in this condition.

Though Makoto’s worry was tempered, now it was replaced with a new fear. A fear that you were not happy. That you was not…(Y/n). That the (Y/n) he had met was just a facade. What if the (Y/n) he had fallen in love with was fake? You were always so happy and optimistic…but that was a mask to hide her private despair. Worst of all, you never confided your troubles to Makoto, your boyfriend.

I promise, (Y/n), Makoto thought to himself, pursing his lips. When you wake up, I’ll make sure I’ll be your pillar. I’ll make sure you can come to me with your troubles, and I’ll go to you with mine.

   People thought Makoto Naegi was insane, because he kept visiting you even after six months since the start of your comatose state. But that did not stop Makoto.

When he visited you, he always started by bringing a gift. Most of the presents piled up in the corner of the room were from him; they were all something of your times together. He hoped that by constantly reminding you of your memories, it might trigger something, and you would wake up.

It was a long shot, but it was worth trying if it meant you would return.

The first gift was a cast that he bought. The nurses thought it was either a horrible joke or a terrible present, but to him, it was the beginning of your relationship. It represented how he had inadvertently broken your arm and resulted in your placement in the hospital. The only people who would understand it were his family and yourself—Komaru actually chuckled weakly when she saw it. She understood it immediately.

The second gift was a copy of your favorite book paired with a tissue (a new tissue, mind you). A few months after meeting you, Makoto would only see you when you visited the same time he did. Because he was in college while you and Komaru were in high school, it was rare that he ever saw you. Maybe once every blue moon. All joking aside, the first time Makoto saw you after visiting you in the hospital, he ended up ruining your favorite book.

It had been raining horribly one day while you and Komaru were still at school. Since Makoto’s parents didn’t want to drive in such horrid weather, they sent Makoto to go retrieve Komaru—with nothing but a coat and umbrella to protect him. Still, Makoto knew he would rather walk home with Komaru knowing that she was safe. (“What a good older brother!” you would always tell him.)

Makoto could barely see anything through the wall of water that assaulted the earth. So he was careful with every step he took.

Well, every step except for one. He hadn’t seen your growing silhouette until it was almost too late. You barreled into each other, both colliding to the wet ground. Makoto shivered the icy cold water drenched his clothes, glueing it to his skin. Though he was wracked with freezing trembles, he was too concerned for the person he had knocked to the ground to think about himself.

“A-Are you okay?!” cried Makoto, hurrying to stand up and kneel by their side. Their umbrellas had been caught in the wind and was nowhere in sight; so Makoto removed his coat and offered it to the smaller figure. “I’m really sorry; I didn’t mean to walk into you!” Makoto was frantic. He needed to walk this person home, but he also need to pick up Komaru, and he didn’t have an umbrella, and his whole world was falling apart—

“Naegi-kun?”

Makoto blinked a few times in surprise. He recognized that voice. But he couldn’t seem to put his finger on it until…

“(L/n)-san!” Now he felt really guilty that it was you of all people he had ran into. After all, he had already knocked you to the ground once; why did he have to do it again? “I-I’m so sorry! I can take you home—“

“No!” you declined sharply. Makoto was honestly shocked by your outburst; though you had only ever interacted twice (once when he ran into you, twice at the hospital), you seemed like such a kind, patient person. You were never one to raise your voice. You recognized this too, because you quickly apologized, “I-I’m sorry for yelling. The storming must’ve put a damper on my mood…” You chuckled weakly, attempting to make humor. Makoto felt a small smile lift his lips; you were trying so hard to be optimistic despite your situation. He liked that about you. “Were you on your way to pick up Komaru-chan? Because she took a cab.”

“What…?” Makoto’s heart deflated, and disappointment burrowed into his chest. He had gone all this way, walked through the rain, only to have Komaru take a cab home. He fought the urge to frown, afraid that you would blame yourself, and instead asked, “Well, since Komaru has gone home, I might as well do something productive. Are you sure I can’t walk you home?”

Unease caused you to turn your gaze away. “I know where I’m going. I’ve gone there a thousand times.” You tightened your grip on his coat, shuddering at the glacial rain, and reached a hand out to scoop something from the ground. Upon closer inspection, Makoto identified it as a book.

Great. He had ruined something else about your life.

“Is that your book?” he asked curiously. “I can replace it. I’m the one who damaged it, anyway.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ve read it before,” you assured him, though he could hear the chagrin in your tone. Makoto watched as you pushed yourself off of the ground, and he soon stood as well. You appeared a bit uncomfortable, your eyes darting in all different directions. “Thank you for the coat, but I think I’ll return it now…”

“No, please keep it,” Makoto insisted with a light blush on his face. “At least until you get home. I can survive.” He offered a smile as if to convince you of his statement. You stared at him for a second before breaking into a small smile of your own.

“Well, um…thank you,” you told him, pulling it closer around you. “I really appreciate it, Naegi-kun.”

When he got home, his parents were unhappy that he hadn’t picked up Komaru in time—or so she told them. Though he wanted to defend himself, say that she had gotten a cab before he had a chance, Makoto was too busy thinking about you to do so. He wondered how you were doing. Had you gotten home all right? Did you repair your book? That night, he went to bed, his head swimming with all sorts of thoughts.

The next day, Komaru returned from school, reporting that you had fallen sick with a cold. She had come home late, considering she went to visit you, and gave Makoto his coat back.

“(Y/n) wanted to thank you for it,” Komaru told him. “Oh, and she added not to worry about her cold. She’s used to it by now.”

While hanging it up in his closet, a book fell out of one of the pockets, and when Makoto picked it up, he recognized it as the book you had dropped in the rain. Though you never outright stated it was your favorite, he had a hunch that it was, and he was correct months later when you were on your first date and he inquired about it.

“Huh? You remember that?” you asked in surprise. You chuckled and scratched your cheek. “Yeah, it’s my favorite book. But I never got around to replacing it. I was always too busy.”

You made Makoto promise that he wouldn’t pay for a new copy, because you didn’t want him to feel obligated to, but he broke that promise when you fell into a coma. After all, he wanted you to remember.

Now that Makoto thought back on it, he wondered how he hadn’t realized how strange you were acting. Avoiding his attempts to walk you home…It became obvious that you clearly didn’t want him to see your home or your home situation.

The third gift was a light green scarf you had (unsuccessfully) knitted for him for Christmas, around a year and a half after you had met him. You had given it to him directly, claiming that it was better to give gifts in person. Makoto was so surprised by the action (considering you barely knew each other) that he felt guilty about not having a present in return. Sensing his worries, you assured him that the best way to pay you back was by simply being grateful.

“Even if you never wear it, as long as I know you appreciate the gesture, I’m happy,” you said to him. So in order to pay you back in the best way possible, Makoto wore it every single day every single winter from that day on.

Those were just the gifts that stood out to him among the many. They were the ones that meant the most to him. They were the ones that defined your relationship—the beginning and the end of it. Because the last gift he brought to your side was the black velvet box that he could not open. He had no more gifts to bring you, so all he brought were your memories, woven and brought to life with his words.

Every single time he entered your room from now on, he always began with, “Do you remember…”

   In the past year, you had had at least four different nurses.

The first one was the only one Makoto hadn’t particularly liked. She was cranky and old and she honestly scared Makoto to death. The reason she wanted a different patient was because Makoto had once asked why she hadn’t retired yet. As it turned out, she was a middle-aged woman who had smoked since she was in high school, and the effects were taking a toll on her appearance.

The second one was a young girl who had just graduated from med school, but she wasn’t confident with her skills. She was also very nervous around men, and cried once when Makoto accidentally brushed her arm with his hand. After that, he never saw her again—not even in passing through the halls.

The third one was actually very kind. Unfortunately, she was very flirty and tended to use you in order to flirt with Makoto; for example, when she bent over your body while tending to you just to expose her chest to Makoto. Thankfully, not a week later after that traumatizing event, she was fired due to scandal—apparently, she had been sleeping with one of the doctors.

The fourth one had yet to be changed, but Makoto doubted it would be any time soon. She was the only decent one out of them all. She was gentle and wise and serious about her work. She had once walked in on Makoto while talking to you, and though he frantically apologized for his behavior, she was anything but angry. In fact, she admitted that she would even talk to you when he wasn’t present, just to keep you in touch with the outside world.

“I think it’s very sweet,” she told him once. “Besides, doctors believe that comatose patients are aware of the world around them. So try being as positive as possible, please.”

From then on, Makoto only spoke of happy memories to you.

   You were never clear on what you wanted to be when you grew up. As you developed, so did your opinions. In middle school, you wanted to be a dentist. After meeting Makoto, it changed to a businesswoman. Then to a lawyer. By the time you graduated middle school, you had alternated between over forty dream jobs—going back to dentist at least three times.

During your high school years, you were pretty set on becoming an actress. You joined the improv club and the drama program, though you never earned a lead. Still, you were content with just participating in it altogether. Komaru would drag Makoto and their parents along to see your productions. And even though Komaru knew Makoto was always busy, she somehow found a way to sneak him out of homework so he could come just for the weekend.

It wasn’t until you were in your junior year that Makoto realized his feelings for you, so it wasn’t until then that he actually started paying more attention to your productions. Even if you were the most insignificant role in the play, Makoto’s eyes were always locked on you; personally, he believed that you stole the show.

Of course, that dream of becoming an actress was promptly replaced by a desire to be a nurse, which was why Makoto was happy that your current nurse was so keen about talking to you. Hopefully, hearing from someone of your desired job would prompt you awake. But even so, he made sure to bring in things from other occupations you had once hoped to join. He brought those fake dental teeth that chattered, he brought newspaper articles with immersive cases that you could solve, he brought a video clip of one of your performances.

Just like how you stole his eyes on stage, you stole his eyes in real life.

   A year and a half. It was a year and a half before you finally woke up.

Though Makoto had always remained faithful in his visits, he had contracted an illness—one that had kept him confined to his bed for a few days. So during those few days, he asked Komaru to visit you for him. Komaru was more than happy to agree; after all, it was spring break.

Makoto regretted that he couldn’t visit you himself, but he knew the hospital wouldn’t let him in, and even if they did, he wouldn’t want you to get sick and stunt your recovery. So he just sucked it up and patiently waited for his recovery. And once he was able to walk on his own without vomiting, Makoto was swift in driving to the hospital. He was so desperate to visit you that he didn’t even bother bringing a gift. Well, more like his muddled mind forgot about one.

Like always, he stopped right in front of your door and steeled himself. But before he could begin his private meditation, he heard voices sound from within.

“…you feeling, (L/n)-san?” It was a deep, rich voice. Your doctor, who Makoto rarely ever saw since you were in a coma and only required tending from your nurse.

And then he heard it. Your voice. As melodic and mellifluous as always.

“I…I’m fine, I think. Where am I?”

Makoto wasted no time in pushing the door open and vaulting into the room. Though he had only sprinted in a few feet, his chest heaved due to the sudden amount of exercise he had performed—he was never an athletic person.

But he fastened his eyes directly on you and your tired form, which was sat up thanks to your nurse. And you looked back at him with your beautiful, stunning eyes which he hadn’t seen in the longest time.

It was silent between you. Even the doctor dared not to break the personal silence.

“Makoto…?” you finally said, tears welling in your eyes. Makoto wanted nothing more than to wrap you up in his arms and breathe in your scent, but he knew the doctor would not appreciate it, so he contained his urges for a moment. He walked over to the other side of the bed and fell to his knees. You extended your hand to him, which he promptly snatched up in his hands. He pressed multiple kisses to your knuckles. “Makoto…!” You began crying, not because of his actions, but because you were so grateful that he was the one of the first people you saw.

But he was deaf to your sobbing. Because you were awake.

You were finally awake.

   A few days after you were discharged from the hospital, Makoto brought you back to his apartment. Since you were behind in your academics for about a year, you would have to work hard to catch up with everyone. You wanted to return to your dorm room on campus, but Makoto was now extremely protective of you. He didn’t want the same thing to happen again, and now that you were in a wheelchair, you required more assistance than others.

Yes, you, (Y/n) (L/n), were in a wheelchair. The impact of the car accident had broken your spine, so you were paralyzed from the waist down. You didn’t feel a single thing in your legs, nor could you move them at all. When you poked yourself, you were frightened by the lack of feeling. The doctors reported that it would take years of physical therapy if you wanted to recover—and even then, it was very unlikely that you would. So for now, you had to rely on others for help.

You reluctantly agreed. Sure, Makoto was your boyfriend, but you didn’t like feeling this way. You hated how everyone rushed to your side to assist you just because you were handicapped. Sure, it was more difficult for you to get things done, but that didn’t mean you were entirely incapable of doing things on your own. Even Komaru, who you had believed wouldn’t do this, coddled you. It was frankly quite annoying.

The only thing that you accepted help for was keeping your hygiene. Basically taking baths.

You and Makoto had never been…intimate. So he was a bit nervous about this whole thing. Nudity was a very personal thing, and he didn’t want you to do anything you were uncomfortable with. But what other choice did you have? Without him, it would be extremely difficult for you to enter the bathtub, and though you had expressed your desire to do things on your own, this was the only thing you had accepted help for.

The doctors and nurses had given you careful instructions on how to bathe, so you were going to do that on your own. But you needed assistance with entering the bathtub. Which was where Makoto came in.

Makoto took deep breaths to calm himself down as he stood outside of your shared closet. He wrung his hands together, wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, and paced back and forth anxiously. His attempts to expel his nervous energy were in vain. The more he paced, the more he thought, which only resulted in terrible scenarios popping into his head.

He squeaked and whirled around involuntarily when he heard the creaking of your wheels. You rolled out of your closet, cheeks a bright red, with a towel wrapped tightly around your body. He released a breath of air he hadn’t realized he was holding. A part of him had been afraid you would come out naked, but now he realized how ridiculous that was of him to assume.

“W-Well?” you stammered, clearing your throat and folding your arms across your chest. “Aren’t you going to h-help me?”

“R-Right!” Makoto nodded firmly. He hurried forward, but then stopped right in front of your chair. How should he do this? He didn’t want to harm you in any way, but he didn’t want to take forever. Eventually, Makoto decided to snake his arms beneath your shoulders and waist. He gingerly lifted you out of the wheelchair and carried you over to the bathtub, which was already filled with water. Once your body was submerged, Makoto watched as you removed the towel. His heart hammered in his chest, and he felt a lump grow in his throat. “D-Do you need help…?”

“No…”

Makoto dipped his head and turned to leave, but he was stopped by your, “Wait!” When he looked back, you were staring at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Don’t leave. I’m scared.”

“Scared? Of what?”

You shifted your gaze shamefully to the ground. “Of you leaving.”

Me leaving…? Does she mean leaving the apartment or leaving her?

“What do you mean, (Y/n)?”

“What if you leave and I need to get out? How will I do that without you?” There was a part of Makoto that suspected that you were hinting at a metaphor, but he didn’t want to assume anything. At least not until it was clearer.

“I won’t leave. I’ll stay right here.” To prove his words, Makoto knelt down next to the bathtub. He offered a reassuring smile. “I’m glad you woke up, (Y/n).”

You returned the smile tiredly. “Me too.” Closing your eyes, you relaxed into the warm water and lolled your head to the side. Makoto’s hand caressed your cheek, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. He frowned briefly.

For once, Makoto could tell that you were hiding your pain.

  You and Makoto rarely ever went on dates anymore. You were so busy catching up with college that you barely had time for anything else. When Makoto talked to Komaru about it, she reported the same thing, that you kept turning down her invitations to hang out. And when Makoto returned home that day, a question rang on his mind.

Were you immersing yourself in work in order to ignore your problems in life?

More often than not, you expressed your frustration at being able to sustain yourself. You couldn’t reach high shelves. You couldn’t climb stairs, and people stared at you in the elevator. You couldn’t run or jump or do all of the things you used to love doing. Sometimes, you even had to request Makoto to help pull your pants on.

Makoto wondered if you were so ashamed by your handicap that you tried distracting yourself from reality by drowning in your work.

You were no longer the girl he had met six years ago. You were no longer the cheerful girl who was so kind that it was hard to fathom that such a person existed. You were no longer the girl who gave those she loved hand-made scarves without asking for a reward. You were no longer the girl who he had fallen in love with three years ago.

But Makoto knew that girl was deep down in there. He knew that if he could only dig her out, she would return.

Makoto waited eagerly for your return home. Komaru, who wanted the real you back, was more than happy to agree to assist Makoto with his proposal. It was the weekend, which usually meant you remained at home, holed up in your room as you studied hard. But Komaru managed to convince you (more like pester you until you gave in) to hang out with her. Komaru promised Makoto she could buy him a few hours to set everything up. And indeed, he used every single moment he had.

So when he heard the locked doorknob rattle as you attempted to open it, he darted right behind where the door would conceal him when opened.

Sure enough, when you pushed the door open, you were unaware of his presence behind the door.

“Makoto?” you called out, rolling forward. You opened your mouth to speak again, but were immediately silenced by the sight before you.

The entire foyer was lit up with candles, which were positioned atop tables, the floor—some were even placed on the walls with sconces. But they formed a clear path into the living room, where the true gift awaited. Makoto watched as you slowly wheeled through the designated path. You couldn’t tear your eyes from the candles, speechless from the spectacle. Makoto carefully and silently snuck behind you, making sure not to alert you of his presence.

He came to a sudden stop when you did in the middle of the living room. You were currently staring at a heap of gifts atop a table that Makoto had collected and piled. It was the presents he had brought every day to the hospital. You rolled up to the table and slowly picked up the first thing that caught your eye. The copy of your favorite book with a tissue clipped to it—reminding you of when you caught a cold after Makoto had accidentally ruined your favorite book.

“Do you remember when we first met?”

You let out a small yelp and turned yourself around to look at Makoto. He had dressed up for the occassion, though he was unsuccessful in taming his hair. He approached you with slow, small steps as he smiled lovingly at you. You watched with wide, shocked eyes, as he continued speaking.

“Do you remember when I ruined your favorite book? Or when you gave me the light green scarf for Christmas? And when I went to all of your productions because Komaru forced me to?”

As he relayed event after event, asking if you remembered, he watched as your expression went from perplexed to thoughtful. He could see how you were remembering each and every time, and it was evident by the way the smile stretched across your face. Soon, he came to a stop right in front of you. His fingers tightened around the black box hidden cleverly behind his back.

“Do you remember when I proposed to you?”

Your mouth dropped. “Wh-What…?”

Makoto fell to one knee and pulled out the box from behind his back. He popped the lid open, revealing a beautiful ring that glittered in the light of the countless candles that surrounded you.

“(Y/n) (L/n),” he said, voice trembling. “Will you marry—“

Suddenly, he was cut off when the sprinklers went off, drenching you both in water. You let out a small scream, but then burst into laughter. Makoto pushed the hair out of his face and frowned. This was not how he had planned his proposal to go. But then again, he probably should have expected this to happen. It wasn’t exactly wise of him to light a bunch of candles in a closed room that had a fire alarm.

“Um…Let me try again,” Makoto blushed. “(Y/n) (L/n)—“

“Yes!” you cried, eyes red with tears. “Yes, I’ll marry you!”

With surprising strength, you pushed yourself off of your wheelchair and fell on top of Makoto. He collapsed to the ground due to the surprise, but his yelp of surprise was suppressed by your lips crashing onto his. It was the first time Makoto had felt anything from your kisses in a long time.

It was a while before you extricated yourself from Makoto, and he knew that he would remember this moment for the rest of his life. 

I will admit that I got the idea for Makoto’s proposal scene from The Office; so please do not sue me or anything for it ^^’’ I just wanted a proposal scene that went terrible to signify the unity of their bad luck.

Also, I will be deviating from Danganronpa! I have recently become obsessed with Persona 5 (and the series in general) so I will be posting an Akira Kurusu/Reader soon. There will still be Danganronpa x Reader, but I just wanted to inform you all that it’s not the only fandom I write for lol.