#i have pants that look like dust's. i could theoretically do him easily

[triglycercule]

guys wtf what if i dress as one of the mtt for Halloween. that would be cringe. i say as my costume the year before that was a fish and the year before that cheese and the year before that a hotdog and the year before that ice cream and i think you get the point i'm already a fucking loser

but but,,,,, if i DID do the mtt,,,,,, which one would i be,,,,,,,,,,, oh god,,,,,,, how do i explain this to my parents that i want to break my costume streak to dress as this??? this would be so cringe. i think i'd get several people trying to run me over if i did dress as killer or dust or horror. AAAAAHHH!!!!! I DONT EVEN DO MUCH FOR HALLOWEEN WHY DO I WANNA DRESS UP AS THEM!!!!!!!!! halloweens not even until like 2 months 2,,, and i dont even like it that much i prefer christmas more,,,,, (ugh im gonna need to write my christmas fic for the mtt again wtf i cant believe it's gonna be a whole year since i did my last one). how would i even dress up as them!!! blue hoodie?!?! THATS IT? if i dont do my own personalized designs of them then what's the point but UGH i dont wanna do sewing. you know what this is problem better left to future triglycercule. but just be warned this topic WILL come up soon in the future (probably like 3 weeks i have no sense of time) (just like the mtt fr)

[guqin-and-flute]

[You know how there’s a set of fics I promised to work on first? Apparently that was a lie! 😘 This is just epilogue, Post-Reconciliation fluff with teenage Jingyi--he’s probably 15-16 CW: Moderate descriptions of dead bodies and injuries in reference to a game they’re playing]

[3zun Raise Jingyi AU] [Main Fic][Ao3 Link]

“Are you you cold?”

“Oh yeah, very.”

“Are you animated?”

“No.”

“Do I know you?”

“Nope.”

“Hmm.”  Yellow-Father flipped the page of the book he was examining, eyes still on his work. “Are there obvious wounds?”

“Yup, my organs are all chewed up, throat torn out, and...let’s say my nose is gone.” Jingyi thumped his chin into his hands, sticking his legs straight out under the low table in the middle of Yellow-Father’s office, idly waggling his feet. 

Next to him at the table, Gray-Father looked like he was falling asleep, his cheek all smushed against his propped up fist, eyes mostly closed, but he still grunted, “Shape of the teeth marks?”

Jingyi squinted into space and wrinkled his nose, considering. “Oblong?”

Yellow-Father twitched a half smirk without looking up from what he was signing. “Oblong teeth?”

“No, oblong...jaw shape or whatever,” Jingyi waved his hand dismissively, wiping away his previous words before drawing a long, thin U-shape in the air with his index finger. 

Gray-Father cracked one eye open to take in the sketch, then closed it again. “Not a fierce corpse, then.”

With an air of exaggerated mystery, Jingyi shrugged, then sprawled backward on the floor so he took up the rest of the walkway in front of the door. “Whoooo’s to say? Is that your guess?”

“Boy, I said it wasn’t a fierce corpse, why would that be my guess?”

“Well, you’re trying to fish for unauthorized information, Chifeng-zun, you gotta play by the rules,” Jingyi shot back sternly, jabbing a serious and admonishing finger in his direction.

Though his eyes were closed, it was very clear that Gray-Father rolled them.

Yellow-Father heaved a sigh and drummed his fingers idly on his desk, gaze roving over the piles of paper as he sucked on his teeth in thought--though, Jingyi had to admit, probably not just about their game. Yellow-Father seemed to operate on several levels at once at all times. “Are there deep puncture marks?” 

“Uhhh...sort of?”

Finally, Yellow-Father looked up to shoot him an amused glance over his desk edge.  “’Sort of?’ That’s hardly fair or specific.” Rising, he gathered a stack of scrolls and came around his desk, stepping easily over Jingyi’s supine form before rapping smartly on the door with his knuckles. 

“Like...teeth marks are technically puncture marks.”

After a moment, the door slid open and a harried looking Jin courier took the pile without a word and disappeared down the hall. Yellow-Father closed the door and turned back. “Yes, I suppose. I’m asking specifically about fangs.”

Lolling his head over, Jingyi watched as he stepped back over him without even looking, robe hem brushing over his belly. He barely fought the sudden urge to grab his ankles as he might have when he was younger. He managed not to--but it was definitely a close thing. “It’s not a snake.”

“What?” Gray-Father demanded, sounding offended.

Jingyi lolled his head back to see his eyes open, glaring at him in mock reproach. “You’ll tell him it’s not a snake but you can’t confirm it’s not a fierce corpse without threatening to take away my guess? How is that playing by the rules?”

“Aha,” Jingyi raised his finger straight into the air again as he proclaimed, “But it is.” Then, he pointed back down at himself. “Because I make the rules.” 

Gray-Father gave a derisive huff through his nose, but smiled. “Yeah, that was cute when you were 5. Not so much anymore.”

“Um, whatever, I’m adorable. Dieeee, are you done yet? I’m bored. When is Blue-die done with his meeting? I wanna gooo.” 

“Patience, Jingyi, I need to clean up. And he’s coming.” Yellow-Father rustled about on his desk, neatly packing everything away into drawers and piles that Jingyi thought were a little excessive--like, why did it need to be that clean? “Where did we find you, again?”

With an exaggerated scoff, Jingyi shook his head slowly, feeling the hard floor beginning to dig into the knob at the back of his skull. He’d have to sit up soon. “Wooow, you find a dead body and you don’t even care enough to remember your surroundings. This must be just any other day to you.”

“In the woods, he said,” Gray-Father betrayed him easily, so Jingyi raised his head to shoot him a glare, but his eyes were closed again. Wriggling closer, he punched the side of his rock of a thigh, earning him a chuckle and Gray-Father leaning down to flip the ends of his fanned out hair over his face.

“Woods, thin, oblong jaws, deep tooth marks, throat torn out, organs and nose gone--or at least chewed on,” Yellow-Father ticked off precisely down an imaginary list as he turned from shelving to continue puttering around. “I’m guessing; wolves.”

Heaving himself upright, Jingyi crashed his hands together just as the gold, white, and blue painted door slid open once again and he bellowed. “GUAAAUAUAUANG!” 

Framed in the doorway, Blue-Father stopped short and blinked at the sudden noise but smiled in amusement. “’Guaaaung?’” When Jingyi thrust out his hands demandingly, he stepped in and obligingly gave him custody of one of his arms. “Hello.”

“Almost done, Er-ge,” floated Yellow-Father’s voice from the closet.

“Clearly, it’s a gong noise.” Jingyi used his arm to haul himself to his feet--Blue-Father didn’t even sway. “They won; I was murdered by wolves.”

At this pronouncement, his blue father cocked his head down at him, smile turning quizzical as Jingyi dusted off the seat of his robes. “...Ah?”

Gray-Father blew out a breath and shook himself awake, unfolding slowly from the table.  “We were playing Dead Body while we waited for you and A-Yao to be done,” he explained, then gave a hugely expansive stretch, scrunching his face up. “I was thinking it was wolves, but I was waiting for the usual twist.”

Yellow-Father emerged from the closet with a smug smile and murmured, “Mmm, of course you were,” to which Gray-Father leaned over the desk and swatted at his butt--he easily dodged. 

“The twist was that there was no twist, this time,” Jingyi said sagely, hands on his hips. “Are we good to go? Finally?”

“I...yes.” Blue-Father still had on that ‘I still don’t know what’s going on here’ smile as Yellow-Father closed the shutters against the streaming sun and joined them. “How does one play Dead Body, exactly?” he asked curiously as he leaned down to let Yellow-Father kiss his cheek hello just before they made their way out into the hall.

Pretending to hold back barf was something Jingyi did less because he cared about them kissing and more because it was his job as annoying teenage son to do things like that. In any case, he was rewarded by Gray-Father wrapping him in a casual headlock, then ignoring him when he flailed to escape as Yellow-Father locked up his office. “You mean you’ve never played Dead Body with him?”

“Mm, not that I recall--and I feel like I would remember something like that.”

From his chaotic and squished vantage point, he saw Yellow-Father look down at him--all captured and partially strangled and sputtering under Gray-Father’s arm. He rolled his eyes, and fondly scolded, “Let him breathe, Da-ge.”

Easily, Gray-Father complied. Wonderful, blessed air flooded back into Jingyi’s lungs--which he immediately used for retaliation by leaping onto Gray-Father’s back like a monster spider and wrapping him in a headlock of his own. Yellow-Father winced and hissed, “Mind Baxia, Fufu, for gods’ sake--”

“Dead Body isn’t a Lan game,” Jingyi panted dismissively, tightening his grip and bracing himself when Gray-Father planted his feet to take stock of the situation. 

His other 2 fathers continued to walk on, out of range of Such Antics. It was a good thing, too, because in a whirl of walls and ceiling, Gray-Father managed to very neatly flip him over his shoulder onto the ground. With a smack, all the breath stuck in his lungs for a few agonizing moments while his horrible, rotten Gray-Father grinned down at him and laughed, “You little ass. What did you think was going to happen?”

“Vengeance,” Jingyi wheezed back several seconds later when he could breathe again again. The ring in his ears hadn’t completely left, yet. 

“--and then you have to diagnose what killed him. It was very popular back when he was around 7 years old,” Yellow-Father was explaining to Blue-Father ahead of them, ignoring the intense drama of betrayal and revenge happening just up the hall. “Though, what on earth makes it not a ‘Lan game’ is beyond me.”

Staggering to his feet with the grudgingly accepted hand of his gray father, Jingyi caught up to them 2 of them. “Right, like shu-gong would want me lying around shouting about my limbs being torn off. He doesn’t even like me yelling about normal things; I would get so many lines.” He flopped down onto his yellow Father’s shoulders and leaned as they walked, even though he was just a little taller, now (and oooh, didn’t Yellow-Father hate it).

 Automatically, his father reached up and pet his head, even as he said, “You’re crushing me, Fufu.”

Transferring over to Blue-Father, he hung from his shoulders when he patiently slowed to allow him to do so. “You find a body,” Jingyi intoned, dramatically. “It’s Lianfang-zun.” He spread his other hand wide as if painting the scene. “He’s folded up like a letter in the halls of Koi Tower! Cause of death?”

“A ridiculous son,” Gray-Father chuckled from behind them, and Jingyi twisted to kick up a foot and stuck out his tongue.

“Wrong.”

“Usually, there was a lot more posing, as a child,” Yellow-Father informed Blue-Father in a heavy tone over Jingyi’s head. “And props. It was a whole ordeal. I’m forever grateful it’s now entirely theoretical.”

“Ahh, I see,” Blue-Father shook his head and put a steadying arm around his shoulder as Jingyi hopped along on one foot, waggling his other one behind him as bait for Gray-Father to take amused, cursory swipes at. “Is there a reason I never got to play Dead Body?”

With exaggerated patience, Jingyi put both feet on the ground and reached up to pat his blue father’s cheek, smiling sympathetically. “Die, whenever I wanted to play war, you always asked if there was a peaceful solution--and I just wanted to stab people.”

All 3 fathers burst out laughing as they rounded the corner of the hallway, the sun shining warmly over their sides from the garden windows. “Oh, so you decided that I just didn’t have the stomach for it, is that it?” Blue-Father asked with a grin.

Jingyi heaved himself off, spinning around to walk backward in front of all of them. “I mean, sort of? I think maybe I figured it would make you too sad to imagine me dead?”

At this, Gray-Father’s eyebrows shot up with a sharp, incredulous laugh and Yellow-Father reared his head back in offended bafflement, demanding, “Oh, and for some reason we wouldn’t be sad to imagine you dead?!”

Shrugging aggressively, Jingyi held up his hands in defense. “I dunno! He seemed like he would handle it worse! I was 7, what do you want from me? It doesn’t have to make sense, I was an idiot!”

“Oh, you were not an idiot,” Blue-Father protested, tilting his head and crinkling him a smile. “You were wonderful.”

“You were 7,” Yellow-Father agreed with Jingyi’s first statement, darkly. Apparently, he was still highly offended, because he muttered, “’Handle it worse’...” under his breath before saying, “You’re about to run into a vase, Jingyi, turn around.”

Instead of obeying, Jingyi just veered away from the obstacle and continued to shrug at him when he sighed and looked to his blue father for help. Before it could come, Gray-Father nudged Blue-Father with his shoulder, teasing, “Congratulations on being the only one to actually care about our son, apparently.”

“Holy hell, fine, if it’s going to be A Thing, we’ll all play and mourn my death together. Happy?” As he rolled his eyes, Jingyi nearly ran into the wall as the last corridor before the outside door ended, but Yellow-Father caught his sleeve and steered him right with feigned annoyance in his pursed lips.

Blue-Father laughed, the light sparking off his spikey guan when he shook his head fondly. “Alright, I’ll play if you turn around. What do we find?”

Obediently, Jingyi spun back around and waited to fall into step with them, pondering the details of his gruesome demise. Beside him, Yellow-Father rolled his eyes to the ceiling with one dimple showing and Gray-Father shook his head with a grin. Then, Jingyi snapped his fingers and spread his hands theatrically just as they all rounded the corner of the hallway. “Alright, so, I’m face down in a river and I’m covered in boils--” 

[1kook]

distractions

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

summary: “Soft.” / “No shit,” you say, “you’re deep between my boobs.” tags: gamer kook, soft bf jeon, extensive knowledge of the MCU (Mario Cinematic Universe) warnings: nsfw; mostly tit play, dry humping, slight praise, jizzing in ur pants like ur fifteen again wc: 3k barely 

when u have 34827 other fics to finish but ur brain hyper focuses on this image at 1 in the morning. not proofread bc idk ppl 

ty for all the nice comments on skirt chasers btw<333

There were a lot of things about Jungkook that you didn’t learn until you were official. Like the fact he rarely matches his socks unless they’re cool socks. Or that he prefers his pancakes pre-drizzled with syrup. Not necessarily bad things, just aspects the general public wouldn’t normally see. In fact, the worst “trait” you’ve learned about Jungkook in the past year is how easily distracted he can get. Nothing crazy, just tiny actions, like forgetting to eat for three hours because he refuses to leave his Wii until he can beat the guys in three rounds of Super Smash Bros. Ultimate in the Mushroom Kingdom stage. Strangely specific, but it’s Jungkook and you’ve long since learned he’s an enigma.

Times like now, when you creep up behind him as he continues screeching into his headset, voice cracking every now and then in that adorable way it does when he’s overwhelmed. You are no stranger to Jungkook’s apartment, having visited more times than you can count, and even dropping by and doing a little dusting while he was on tour. However, you’re surprised you can see the back of his coconut hair from the low backing of his new computer chair. He’d told you he recently threw away his big leather, super villain gaming chair because it’d started to tear, but it was a fact you hadn’t really paid much attention to.

Now, however, you’re feeling a little happy he did, because it means you can slide your palms around his shoulders in somewhat of a back hug. It’s way better than having to walk all the way in front of him, and you bite down on a grin when he mutters the softest “hi, baby.”

“Which stage are we battling on today?” You murmur, pinching the tip of his mic to twist it away. Faintly, you can hear Taehyung’s voice shout a greeting your way.

Another button smash of his remote, hands enveloping the tiny device. “Wii Fit Studio with Wario,” he replies, eyes flickering across the screen like his life depends on it. You snort.

“I thought you hated Wario,” you point out, and move with him when he jumps after being shot off the screen.

He looks at you for the first time as he waits for his character to respawn. “Changed my mind. He’s just misunderstood. Listen to my theory, babe,” he starts, and you let go of him because you have the back of a ninety year old war veteran and can only hunch over for so long. You take up a very bodyguard-esque position behind him, watching him play and gently pressing your thumbs into his shoulders. “Imagine this. You’re a kid trying to have fun and this other kid who looks exactly like you but better is somehow also cooler than you.”

You hum, letting go of his shoulders to toy with his hair. You pull it into a makeshift ponytail and giggle, not that Jungkook minds, too immersed in his game and his sudden loving Wario speech to care. “Then, you get older and this same dude is still getting all the credit for being exactly like you. On top of that, his little brother is doing the same to your little brother! I’d be so pissed.”

You let his hair drop, and then quickly brush the strands away from his face when he whines. “Uh huh. But theoretically speaking, aren’t you the Mario of your little universe?” Jungkook is silent. “If we’re going by your little story, I hardly doubt there’s another Jeon doing better than you,” you point out.

Jungkook’s Wario gets blown off the screen for the last time, and he’s left blankly staring at the screen. You poke his neck. “I don’t wish to discuss this further,” he says rather matter of factly. You laugh, shaking him and his seat. “Baby, why would you say that!” He cries.

You smile, flicking the switch on his headset before pushing it off his head. Jungkook moans again, head lolling back to glare up at you. “I finally come to terms with the fact that Mario is the true asshole, just to find out I’m Mario? Fucking absurd.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics, fingers dancing down the stretched column of his neck. “Listen, no one told you to go out and create an entire deep backstory for the Mario Cinematic Universe.”

He scoffs, eyes fluttering shut as he continues basking in your soft caresses. “The MCU,” he chuckles under his breath. On screen, Taehyung is still fighting with whoever else they were playing with tonight, a little Isabelle and Dark Samus dancing across the screen.

Meanwhile, you’re still absentmindedly running your fingertips along Jungkook’s skin. For a second, you think he’s asleep by the deepening of his breaths, his body so soft and relaxed beneath your touch, but then he gets one of those weird twitches of his, and pushes his head between your breasts.

“Ah,” he sighs, eyes still shut. “Soft.”

“No shit,” you say, “you’re deep between my boobs.”

The little shit snuggles closer at your words. “My favorite place in the world,” he croons, and you pinch his neck for his stupidity. “Tell me when they’re done,” he mumbles, sounding as if he’s actually gonna fall asleep.

You relent, continuing your gentle massaging of the muscles in his neck as you tune into the match on screen. You’re not exactly sure which one Taehyung is, but your gut tells you he’s probably playing as Isabelle, so you root for her. You’re weirdly into it, jumping every time a good spar happens.

By the time the match ends (literally only like 4 minutes later) and you check on your boyfriend, he’s snuggled his way between the valley of your breasts, his cute nose poking out from between. “Oh my god,” you sigh, having to take a momentary pause to collect yourself from the sight.

Jungkook giggles.

“Well. Taehyung’s done,” you inform him, and he hums though he doesn’t really seem to care about Smash anymore. His hands go slack around his remote, crawling up to dwarf yours.

He sighs, sounding so happy with himself. “Baby, you’re so soft,” he hums, and you try desperately, and you mean desperately, to ignore the sudden drop of his voice, his hands ever so gently tangling with yours.

You try to hit him with the facts, because you know where this will go if you don’t. “Well, breasts are made up of mostly fatty tissue, and lobes for producing milk,” you inform him.

Contrary to your goal, the handsome smile that envelopes his face has you fighting down the curl in your stomach. You can never win.

“You know I love when you talk anatomical to me,” he purrs, and it takes everything in you to not punch him straight in those pearly whites.

You don’t have enough time to respond, too caught up in a mental pep talk to re-evaluate what your body considered attractive. Jungkook’s corny jokes should definitely not be high on the list, but your rock hard nipples said otherwise. “So, you gonna let me suck on them or what?”

“I hate you,” you groan, reaching over to completely unplug Jungkook’s headset because you were absolutely terrified of creating an accidental porno with your celebrity boyfriend.

Jungkook chuckles. “No you don’t,” he teased, finally wiggling his way away from you to whirl his seat around. “Could feel your nip nops pressing into my forehead. No bra today? She’s bold.”

“She’s bold and embarrassed that her boyfriend calls them nip nops,” you sigh, climbing into his lap. His remote presses hard against your thigh, and you yelp before he tugs it out and throws it on the desk behind him. Vaguely, you register the screen lighting up behind Jungkook, but then he’s nudging your shirt upwards.

He’s barely brushed his hands against you, but you’re already shivering and squirming in his lap. “Relax for me, baby,” he assures you, a new depth slowly creeping around his words. “Gonna take care of you, alright?”

You nod, breath already caught in your throat just from the way he looks at you. He flashes you another smile, bunny teeth slightly pressed against his lower lip, before he’s pushing your shirt above your chest, and marveling at your boobs.

You don’t miss the way his gaze becomes glossy, eyes hyper focused on the rise and fall of your chest. Just as you’re about to urge him to do something, he’s reaching up to brush his thumb around your nipple. “Oh,” you blurt out, the skin around your nipple rising with goosebumps.

Jungkook lets out a soft huff of air at your reaction. “So sensitive. Bet I could make you come just by touching your tits, baby.”

You scoff, choking back another sound when he does the same to the other nipple. “I wanna say I doubt it, but I feel like you’ll prove me wrong,” you retort.

At this, Jungkook smirks. “Oh, so now it’s an expectation?” He smiles, and it’s the last angelic side of him you see before he’s ducking down and latching his supple lips around your breast.

Immediately, your back arches forward, hands scrambling to grip onto his shoulders as he licks across your breast. “J-Jeon, wait—“ you cry, body shaking at the way his tongue dances around your nipple.

Your hands tangle themselves in his hair, tugging and twisting it as he flicks his tongue back and forth, knocking it against the hard pebble. You moan, and almost choke when he pulls away with a lewd pop.

His lips are glossy from his own saliva, red from the friction. He’s looking at your glistening breast like a starved man, thumb returning to glide over his own messy artwork. “So pretty,” he hums, Puckering his lips to blow a soft tuft of air against it. You shiver. “Aren’t you the softest little thing,” he says, one hand falling to your waist and gently easing you closer to his crotch. His sweatpants do nothing to conceal how he’s feeling.

You hate to admit how your insides had turned into a Fruit Gusher the second he started sucking on your boob, and now that you think of, you'd be absolutely embarrassed if you did come from just this.

As if sensing your inner turmoil, Jungkook meets your gaze. “I fucking knew it,” he says, slightly out of breath. You furrow your eyebrows, to which he pointedly raises his and gestures to his crotch. “You started pressing down so hard on me the second I got my mouth on you,” he brags, and as if to punctuate his statement, grinds his hips upward into you. “Did sucking your titty make you that wet, doll?”

Your cheeks flush at his words. Belatedly, you nod, your eyes falling to his lips that quirk up into a smile. “Oh, you’re just so desperate to be touched, aren’t you?” He continues, and then reaches up to pinch your nipple between two rough fingers.

You gasp, body arching into him. The pain is new, but definitely welcomed. “Yes,” you cry out, hand reaching out to grapple around his wrist. Though you try to tug it away, it feels disgustingly good and you know he knows, which is why he gives it a slight tug.

Finally, when he lets go of you, he doesn’t hesitate to lower himself down by your other, ignored breast. “I wanna see you cream your shorts, okay? So I’m gonna suck your other titty until you’re near tears, baby,” he states, before giving you a soft push of his hips.

“Please, be gentle,” you choke out, words stuck the moment he wraps his lips around you. This time, he’s ruthless with his tongue. He traces it all over, tonguing your nipple like a lollipop. It feels nice, the wet caress, that you don’t see that bite coming at all. You moan, body unconsciously pushing away from him in surprise.

“Nuh uh,” Jungkook tuts, strong arms wrapping around your lower back to bring you back into his embraces. This closer position has your core pressing down directly over his dick, and the sudden double stimulation has your vision momentarily going white. “Gonna give you a pretty little bite right under your tit, doll,” he announces, and in a scary act of trust, presses his fingers into your spine until you’re staring at the ceiling, the only thing supporting you his strong arms. He nudged your breast with his nose until he finds the perfect spot to place his impromptu hickey.

It’s right against the bottom curve, where your skin folds over, that he settles on. “Need you to to sit nice and still for me. You can do that, right baby?” Jungkook says, big doe eyes looking up at you. You nod your head quickly.

His teeth are cold, unlike the rest of his mouth. “Jungkook!” You moan, toes curling and thighs attempting to clamp shit. They hit the outside of the chair instead, slightly squeezing around his thin waist. “You’re s-so good to me,” you wail, pushing down into his covered cock for friction.

As much as you wanted to act like this wouldn’t affect you, your body is no liar. Fingers tangled in his long curls, you find yourself gently rutting against him. Much to your surprise, this makes him break away, a thin bridge of saliva connecting his mouth to your chest. You mourn when it finally breaks.

“Told you to stay still, doll,” Jungkook warns, one set of long fingers sprawling on the small of your back as the other reaches up. “You had all the time in the world to work yourself on me, but you wanna choose now?” He gently reprimands you, twisting your nipple between two pinched fingers. You mewl. “Promise you’ll be good?”

“I can’t,” you whine, desperation seeping into your voice as your traitorous hips jolt forward again. You nearly fall onto him when a particular nudge of his cock over your core feels just right. “Want your cock so bad,” you wail, throwing all hesitation out the window as you begin full on humping yourself against his crotch.

Jungkook sighs, trying to act annoyed with you but the twitch of his cock beneath you cannot lie. “Well I’m not done having fun with you,” he says, though the way his words are tinged with complaints, you can tell he’s trying hard not to pout. Nonetheless, he latches his mouth around your breast again, and you nearly faint when he rolls your nipple between his teeth.

“Jeon,” you cry, looking down with probably the world’s worst quadruple chin only to catch him absolutely savoring your titty. He’s got his eyes closed, pink tongue licking across every inch he can get. His arms are wrapped around the smallest part of your waist like he can’t possibly fathom letting you go. When he moans, a whole new found wetness coats your walls. You choke on a sob, “I-I love you, Jungkook.”

You can feel a smirk pressed around your breast. It’s this moment when Jungkook finally gives up on his little quest to tame you, hips bucking up to meet your offbeat grinds against him. He pulls off your breast with another wet pop, though he’s slightly lower than you from how consumed he was when sucking you tits. He has to make a little effort to stretch his neck up to look at you, and even then it’s over the top of his nose that he gazes at you.

His lips pucker slightly, and the next time you grind down onto him has them brushing against your lower lip. “That’s it,” he croons, admiring the different expressions that contort your face as you become closer and closer to your orgasm. “Come all over your pretty panties for me, baby,” he encourages, sucking your lower lip between his.

His mouth had been so dangerous to you today, licking and sucking in all the right spots, but nothing has ever felt as right as having it on yours. “I-I’m sorry,” you whimper, fingers knitting themselves in his hair.

“Don’t be,” he comforts, gripping your hips and swiveling you in a circular motion. “Next time you’ll do better, won’t you?”

You nod, head bouncing like a bobble head. He smiles, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your thighs twitch. “I was gone for so long,” he rambles, hips picking up their pace the second he hears your breath hitch in your throat. “Didn’t think you’d become so sensitive and needy.”

A faint smile passes through your lips, and your toes curl and your belly tightens in that delicious way it does right before orgasm. Another grind against Jungkook, and he sighs “I love you,” as you cream your pants like a dweeby high schooler being touched for the first time.

Jungkook’s gentle movements halt the moment he sees that orgasmic face overtake you, pressing soft smooches all over the bottom half of your face, peppering your lips with them, until your fingers finally loosen in his hair.

“Fuck, I’m embarrassed,” you huff out, feeling gross and sticky in all the worst spots. Jungkook chuckles, and you can still feel his hard cock nudging the insides of your thighs.

“Nah,” he says. “It’ll make it easier for me to slide in.”

Even in your post orgasmic state, his words have a brand new coil of heat revving up. God, you were whipped for him. “Bed?” You ask, and he nods as you clamber off his lap, tugging down your shirt.

Immediately, he whirls around and catches sight of his abandon Smash game. “Huh.” He says, and you already feel the distraction staple itself into his mind. “Have you ever noticed how Dark Pit—“

You cut him off, gliding your hands around his neck and slowly craning it back until you can give him a tiny Spider-Man kiss. “If you make me cum a second time I promise I’ll listen to whatever theory you have about him,” you purr, punctuating your words with a tiny smooch.

The screen is off in record time.

[tigerdrop]

okay kind of obsessed with the body swap art tho. idk why i just like benrey getting to bully gordon with his own body, his own voice, and i like gordon trying to navigate whatever weird shit benrey’s got going on. gordon not being able to figure out or control whatever organs in benrey’s throat produce sweet voice so it’s just spewing whatever emotions he’s feeling at random (including Horny? uh oh. can’t hide that as easily as a surprise boner can you gordon?)

this ask kicked me into actually thinking about it and your brain is so huge. massive. i lost control

last night i was struggling to articulate thoughts for the body swap thing but this is kickstarting me. i. really love bodyswap stuff........(sighing) i am yet again having to confront the fact that i latched onto an embarrassing number of Things after having first read about them in [REDACTED]. truly hate being alive

so like......potions. you can get into a whole lot of weird stuff with potions. truly loving that darnolds 5-minute existence gives me an excuse to think of the stupidest horny potions scenarios

and why in the fuck wouldnt he have a bodyswap potion just chillin in his lab. why wouldnt benrey crack that bad boy open and take a sip while darnolds bitching at him "dont you touch any of those goddamn potions. im not gonna tell you which ones which so if you die, you die"

gordon claps benrey on the back afterwards like "well, thats a risk im perfectly happy for him to take" but uh oh you fucking buffoon. the touch is what activates it. and shit just starts spinning and schlorping in his mind and he nearly falls over clutching the lab bench next to him and when he cracks his eyes back open, hes........shorter. and everybodys asking if somebodys okay but that somebody isnt him and hes kind of miffed about that

and then gordons head turns and he sees Himself being steadied on his feet by tommy and darnold and hes like.......guys? guys. hello! and the sound of benreys voice coming out of him with that irritated and loud timbre makes everybody turn to face him........b/c that is so insanely weird coming from him

im like way into the idea of benreys, like, Eye Darkness Thing transferring to gordons face when their bodies are swapped, too. its just his malevolent energies manifesting physically no matter what body hes in

Wait god wait. Like. Benrey in Gordon's body and he gets horny for some reason and has to live Gordon's fucking pained life of the suit edging the hell outta him- Bc now Gordon can actually fucking jerk off for the the first time in days. No edging bullshit from the hev suit

benreys newfound appreciation for why gordons such a bitch all the time

RRRRRRRRRRR gordon able to go wild beating his meat that night finally but right before he does he stops because hes looking down at. 8)!

YES EXACTLY....... gordon freeman humbled by the sight of benreys huge meat. except its his meat now 

at first he only feels mildly weird about jacking it when hes not even in his own body right now but hes been edged for days now and hes just thinking "if i can just get this out of the way now, ill be clear-headed for however fucking long im stuck in black mesa. maybe this is why ive been so goddamn stupid lately. yeah"

but then he gets some time and space to himself at long last and unzips and the shock of seeing benreys huge uncut dick instead of his own brings him back to reality like "?oh my god what the fuck am i doing"

embarrassment! guilt! but also hes still fuckin horny and eventually curiosity wins out. whats the harm, right. its not like he has to say anything about it. and gordon freeman is (mostly) heterosexual and hes never been this up close and personal with a foreskin before and hes just......curious. scientifically

maybe hes even.......locked himself inside one of the company restrooms while hes at it. just to make sure hes got privacy. and there is a mirror right there........  he was gonna just bust one out and leave as fast as he can but now hes curious

starts. thumbing the hem of his shirt under benreys vest. starts lifting it up experimentally just to see where all that hair leads. out of curiosity. and seeing the curve of benreys stomach peek out in the mirror makes him hiccup on sweet voice inadvertently 

weirdly enough theres a part of him thats both relieved and disappointed that hes never seen that color before

he never envisioned that seeing benrey like this would be a turn-on but like......with that vest and that helmet on he just looks like some kind of fuckin roundish rectangle shape. but now gordons intimately familiar with how his body feels to move around in......what hes gotta look like underneath all that armor and ill-fitting work clothes......and the hornier he gets the stupider he gets

takes off the helmet.......just to test the waters. if somebody manages to bust in, thats not so weird to explain. and hes surprised by the shock of black hair he finds under there. he doesnt know what he was expecting....but honestly, benrey looks, like, kind of nice like that. more like a person

im slightly obsessed with the idea of benrey just not even registering as a Real Guy, physically, to gordon, one that he could possibly be attracted to, until hes out of his work uniform.......like hes more of an icon of a person than anything up until that point. pure signifier. no substance

like......you know......the equivalent of how benreys HL model registers to 99% of people watching the series. sure, thats not necessarily anything youd register as "hot", most likely, but then u peel that away and its like........Oh

the model is the icon and the representation of the icon is the real

and gordon runs a hand thru benreys hair and tries out one of those shitty little smirks benrey likes to use on him and the effect is.......dizzying. is that him? is that what benrey really looks like to him?? he feels fuckin salacious doing this

he can even.........get his face up close to the mirror and really look at those teeth

run his tongue over them experimentally.......feel their sharp edges.......and, no, theyre not sharp like a knife, but they are definitely pointy. and surprisingly well-kept......hes never seen benrey brush his teeth before but clearly he must. theyre so smooth and slick under his fingertips

and then he flushes and drops his hand b/c hes getting some weird fucking thoughts right now........but looking back up at himself in the mirror and seeing benreys face all wide-eyed and red makes the issue worse

oh, you really like seeing him look like that, dont you. and gordons pissed b/c this isnt even his fucking brain but its still whispering the exact same neurotic, self-defeating shit at him that hes trying very hard to tamp down

and then he starts getting a little crazier. taking off the vest. he can explain that, no problem. its just kind of hot. heavy. he needed a breather! its normal. just in here to splash some water on his face and cool down, nothing wrong with that. but that just makes benreys shirt all the easier to access.......and he tugs the hem of it just a little higher and looks at himself in the mirror and runs a thumb over the curve of his stomach, where the hair is thickest, and he shivers

gordon freeman is deeply normal and would never get off to the sight of a guy with arms the size of his head tentatively dragging the hem of his shirt up, just for gordon to look at him closer

hands shaking from nerves as he decides to loosen his tie and start unbuttoning and he sees more and more hair-dusted skin and muscle and fat and a thin sheen of sweat reveal itself

> i could see gordon trying to tense and flex the muscles a bit just because hes normal

HE IS, AND HE WOULD

he doesnt know when "being horny b/c hes been pent up and edged for days and he just needs to get his rocks off real quick so he can be normal again" turned into "being horny b/c the way benrey looks under his uniform is scary good to him" but if he thinks about that too hard hes gonna have a panic attack

tells himself that its all just because he hasnt been able to get off. thats why hes thinking this shit. hell stop thinking it once he nuts

> hey this is a quick aside but yknwo how he talks to himself in third person sometimes? what if he does and then kinda does a mental double take at how his name sounds coming out of benreys mouth, with his voice. ok thats it goodbye

oh ym god thats making me go insane. doing it by accident and then.........saying it again. on purpose. just to hear benreys voice doing it

getting one knee hitched up onto the sink and leaning forward with his arm braced against the mirror and his forehead leaning on his arm and tugging benreys dick (no, idiot, thats your dick right now, stop thinking about it) and tentatively groaning out his own name and it comes out so hoarse and desperate that it punches him straight in the gut (too bad, hes thinking about it, he cant not think about it, not with the way he looks and sounds right now)

> remember in the series when benrey called him gordon one (1) time and he noticed immediately and was like..i think thats the first time youve called me by my name.

he looks so fucked out and slutty in that mirror that it almost makes him pass out

eyes darting like hes trying to commit every single detail of how he looks right now to memory (b/c he is. he fucking is. he wants to make benrey look like this so fucking bad. just for him. wreck him and get him flushed and sweaty and panting and moaning gordons name and jesus christ, okay, thats where his brains taking him. okay. cool)

hes dizzying himself thinking about it. he knows benreys hot for him by this point, theoretically. assuming his weird come-ons werent just jokes. benrey would probably let him do this to him. benrey would probably want him to touch his dick. gordon thinks about how good it might feel for his own hand to be on benreys dick and he cant get himself solidly into one headspace or another - hes gordon, hes benrey, he wants to touch, he wants to be touched, he wants to feel his own hand on this dick (and god, maybe he could. maybe he could ask. wouldnt that be crazy.)

benrey in gordons suit and gordons body and gordons face leaning over him, b/c fuck, he really is tall compared to benrey, hes figured that one out awful quick. and gordons (his) hand on his (benreys) dick and stroking him and leering down at him with those dark, dark eyes that dont even really look like his eyes, anymore, not with the way theyre shaded over, and hearing his (benreys) (his) voice moaning out his (gordons) (definitely gordons) name and all the little "pleases" and "thank yous" that he cant stop letting out b/c benreys voice was made for it, made to beg and whine and ask so nicely, and his heads spinning as he comes all over the fucking mirror and sink

> i wonder if this could be combine with the ideas that parts of the self or like mind is still a bit left behind if that makes sense, like with benrey also wanting this that part of the reason gordon wants to say those things

"do you want to fuck him or do you want to be him?" well my good bitch, perhaps you can have a little of both. welcome to my personal hell

hes never come so hard in his fucking life and the noise that rips out of him when he does, finally, after days of being jerked around (ha ha) makes his ears burn with shame

now if you really wanna go crazy. imagine that benreys up and walking around this whole time b/c being edged by his stupid broken suit is making it impossible for him to sleep, and he hears........all of this. stops and presses himself flat agains tthe wall to listen

he cant actually get into the bathroom to scare the shit out of gordon/offer to join in/etc, b/c this stupid flesh body of gordons cant even noclip, but he can press his ear to the door and. listen. and he can flush all the way down to his chest when he hears gordon in there, moaning out his own name with benreys voice

so thats what gordon wants him to do, huh. thats what hes thinking about.

poor benrey, tho. he gets to experience just a lick of the endless fucking suffering that gordon goes thru every single day just by being alive, and "the HEV suit trying and failing to suck him off to completion while his dick twitches against the hard metal of the interior every time gordon groans in there" is just one small part of it

anyway . see ya. my final message

[joonsmagicstudio]

Meet Me Where The Waves Touches The Sky: are you ready? (IV)

Note: I put a keep reading break but I am unsure if it is working, if there is no keep reading link then please let me know! I do not wish to bother anyone with long posts.

Story Description: We all have our issues, but some of us are sub-consciously pushing it away without realizing how deep under water we are. You don't realize the things around you aren't what used to be until you meet a celebrity struggling to live. Like the hypocrite you are, you help others without helping yourself first. But no one told you about helping others gives you this exhilarating feeling of being a saint. So for how long are you going to keep being a saint in a doctor's coat?

Genre: Angst, fluff (if you squint) and smut.

Pairing: You x Namjoon

Trigger Warning: It revolves heavily around suicide, depression and death. Please don’t read it if it is a sensitive topic for you. Also keep in mind it isn’t like ‘13 reasons why’. It takes place in more of an adult setting hence mature. It also has mature (+18) scene, alcohol consumption and occasional use of foul language hehe.

I am writing about suicide, death and depression not because I romanticize it or engage in it for others to partake. It is strictly for the purpose of writing a story to convey a message beyond these three words.

Story masterlist is here: MMWTWTTS

Namjoon woke up to gentle clattering of plates and the aroma of food, with that he got up and walked over to the kitchen with an empty beer bottle in his hand. He saw you setting the plates with food on the table, only one though.

"Don't stand at the entrance Namjoon, come on in. I made breakfast for you." You set a glass of water next to his plate and stood up to face him.

"Thanks, but where is yours?" Namjoon sauntered over to the table and sat down. You took the beer away from his hand and set it next to yours at the sink.

"Oh mine? Don't worry, I already had it. You just woke up on time, I was about to go and wake you up." You smiled softly watching Namjoon stare at his plate of food for quite a while, "C'mon, eat up before it gets cold." You urged him softly, this man in front of you really is long gone to the core if he just stares and simple things, you thought, does he even have tie to sit down and eat?. You had just served him warm croissants with bacon, eggs and tea as well as water on the side along with sweet condiments to eat with the croissants.

"Alright, I have work. So I'll be leaving now. Once you are done, you can simply put the empty plates in the sink. I'll take care of it. Rest well alright, Namjoon?" You put more emphasis on his name to make sure he was looking at you and heard you clear enough.

"Yeah I will. Thanks." He mumbled before weakly lifting up the knife to scoop up the sweet condiment of his choice, strawberry jam, to slather on the croissant. With that, you left the flat with your coat and shoulder bag and headed towards your workplace.

Namjoon nibbled on his breakfast before leaving it halfway uneaten, the lack of appetite was rather overwhelming so forcing himself to eat would just be making him eat dust. Last night he had gone through the entire place but didn't see your room yet. He wanted to but that it would be an invasion of privacy, 'Just a small look won't harm anyone.' Namjoon said to himself in means of comforting himself and walked up to the door to your room. His hand rested still on the doorknob to your room, it could be locked for all he knows. But if it's locked then that means you have something to hide.

Namjoon sighed and twisted the doorknob. It opened. Your room was just like his. Devoid of many things except for a white table with a penholder that had exactly 2 pens and one pencil. Your bed was neatly made just like his was and the color scheme was exactly the same, grey and white. You had no pictures, no decorations, just nothing. There was at least a closet, with your clothes he assumed. Namjoon walked over to your closet and opened it. You had nothing but just a few dark colored bottoms and tops. Just one beige coat was hanging on the left side and that was it. No boxes or any compartments. Namjoon found it too unsettling, you really had nothing and literally nothing to hide or anything about yourself that he could learn from. If there's one thing he learned from you, then that was you had nothing about yourself.

Namjoon left your room and went back to where his breakfast laid cold, it was safe to say that he was unsettled by the lack of your 'things' but then you were helping him a great deal. He decided to just ask about it when you came back, which would be late night since you stayed late working last night.

〰️ 💠 〰️

"This artificial intelligence will produce a realistic hologram of the person's most loved or dear one- The hologram then would speak to the person and talk them down. If this proves succesfu-"

"How would the hologram even find the person's loved one Y/LN?" The one and only researching professor on depression and suicide at the moment in the hospital, Dr. Richards, blatantly asked. He never really liked you. Why? It's simple really, you were younger and better than him and he had bruised ego because of that. It didn't bother you that much really because the more he tried to attack you, the more openings he made that allowed you to defeat him.

"The AI can easily run a facial recognition on a person's face and I'm sure you have studied a bit on the brain, right?"

"Yes-"

"Then you would know that a particular region of the brain, called Hippocampus, shows a spike in activity when the person is remembering something. You see, this is where the AI comes into play, not only does it do facial recognition but because its sensor is so powerful, it can pick up the readings of the person Hippocampus and dive into its memories and picks out the most memorable memory. And from that memory it does a background check on the person involved in it to see if the bond between that person is strong or has fallen away before producing a holographic image of it." You stopped right in front of Dr. Richards defiantly, crossing your elbows you asked, "Anymore questions?"

"What about the voic-"

"Oh doctor, hasn't someone told you memories are extremely powerful. The AI can pick up the voice from the memory too." You shot back at him.

"What if the memorable person is dead huh?! What would the AI do? Show it? That gives a push to the person to fucking suicide." Dr. Richards slammed both of his hands on the table, the glass of water next to him rattled and splashed violently, other doctors in the room zeroed on you. You had to admit that this time he got you. You hadn't thought about that. It was a flaw, a major flaw. If the person saw his loved one that is dead, that person would most likely go for it to see them.

Silence hung heavy in the air, all the doctors were looking at you for some kind of answer. If you didn't answer then all the hard work, effort and attempts you put into this would go down the drain.

So theoretically someone who saw his dead loved one would take a leap to be with them unless- "In case of that unfortunate event, the AI would ensure the hologram of the loved one talks them down, it talks the person out of suicide. It would reject each time the person says I want to be with you. The AI would tell them no. Look, it's difficult to explain but you get my gist. It doesn't matter who appears as a hologram as long it can talk the person out of suicide. I mean think about it, South Korea has the highest rate of suicide, with this invention we can reduce the number greatly and we won't be infamous for being number one in that category. Think about how much benefit it could bring us." You walked back to the center of the stage and stood in front of the projection that displayed your prototype model of the AI device, "That's all. I hope you can consider this idea." You were pushed into the corner so you had to end the presentation there on a dull note.

〰️ 💠 〰️

You walked out of the conference room with much more weight on your back than when you first entered. You had noticed that when you ended your presentation, all the doctors and the delegates were pondering over it, there was no face of confirmation or anyone that seemed to be willingly to go for this idea of yours.

"Hey! Y/N!" Someone called behind you and you turned around to locate the owner of the voice.

"Wooyoung, is there something?" You asked with your eyebrows raised at him. He was jogging frantically in his white lab coat and stethoscope flapping around wildly.

"Didn't you hear over the comms?" Wooyoung came to a halt in front of you, he panted heavily with his hand on his thighs for a moment before standing up.

"I was in the conference-"

"Fuck-okay, it's code blue Y/N! It's yours." Wooyoung grabbed your arm and pulled you violently towards the west wing. If he said code blue, then it required immediate attention. The hospital had set up a system in which they could use code words to alert all doctors and staff of a particular situation without causing a stir or panic in the patients. Code blue means this person requires immediate attention within a few minutes. If it occurred in the west wing then it was either a person from the general surgery ward or the psychiatric ward. You really hoped it wasn't the latter, because that would most likely mean that someone managed to get out of their room and was about to stir up trouble. But if there's one thing you have learned in your life, that one thing is that hoping is futile. You knew it was definitely someone from the psychiatric ward because Wooyoung said it was yours.

Wooyoung and you stopped when you both reached the open space of the West Wing where you could see floors and floors accessible by stairs and escalator. Wooyoung then tapped your shoulder and pointed up to the 7th floor. The west wing was several stories tall, after all it was a major hospital.

"Fuck." Was the only thing that slipped out of your mouth when you saw the situation that Wooyoung pointed to.

"Yeah fuck." Wooyoung muttered, "We can't get her to come down, she is hell-bent on jumping. The ledge she's standing on is awfully thin, we can't risk catching her because it'll just take her one step." Wooyoung relayed to you the situation that was unfolding in front of your eyes. That girl was your patient, Kim Jungha, that's her name. You had her put in for treatment for severe depression topped with schizophrenia, it was a nasty combination.

"Right, where is her family? They could help. There's no way we could catch her from the bottom." You asked. Kim Jungha's family was the closest thing to happiness she had before she landed her, especially her sister. That's what you had understood after many sessions with Kim Jungha and right now she could use her sister.

"I'll go and talk to her, hopefully buy enough time till her family arrives." You exhaled sharply and jogged towards the staircase that led to the 7th floor where Jungha was dangerously standing on the ledge.

As you approached 7th floor, you saw the entire floor swarmed with the staff and few doctors surrounding Jungha at a considerable distance, it was silent and tension was high except for a faint conversation between Jungha on the ledge and another staff member, by the look of Jungha's dull and hopeless expression, you understood that the conversation wasn't going well. You squeezed yourself through the surrounding staff and came to stand in front of Jungha. Jungha's back was facing the vast space with a solid drop, which meant one step and it was near impossible to get her back. You glanced behind her briefly before signalling with your hand for the other staff who was talking to keep quiet and back off.

"Jungha, can we talk?" You softened your voice, you didn't want to show her any signs of stress that you were under. Jungha stayed silent, you took that as a sign to keep talking.

"I understand what you are feel-"

"Please cut that bullshit. You don't, how would you? You are trained to say bullshit like to make us feel better. Guess what? It doesn't fucking work." Jungha spat harshly in your face.

She is a tricky one, you've always felt people like Jungha was like talking to a wall, "Alright, you think I don't understand. That's fine by me. What about your sister? How do you think she would feel if you left her alone?" You decided to pull the sister card. One of the most important thing learned about talking to people to of suicide was if you can't sympathize with them, then redirect their anguish and focus to the loved ones that could make them rethink their choices.

Jungha didn't reply, which means that she's doubting now.

"Your sister would be heartbroken to find out that you left her. She wouldn't be happy without you because you mean so much to her, you mean the universe to her."

"But my sister, my mother, they would be better off without me wouldn't they? I am nothing but a burden to them, Y/N." She said solemnly as she used your name. You always let your patients call you by your first name simply because it would be comfortable for them to talk to you.

"You aren't a burden Jungha. You are just like us. We have all got a backpack, some are just heavier than others but at the end of the day we all keep continuing with our backpacks in the journey. And the reason we keep going on is because there are others in the journey. Others that keep us company and make the journey bearable and before we even realize it, we forget about the heavy backpacks and keep on continuing the journey. For you, that person who makes your journey bearable is your sister and you are the same for here. If you leave her, her journey would be difficult for her." You took a step closer as you spoke so just in case, just in case she decides to.

You also prepared yourself for another technique to get a person off the ledge. But that technique wouldn't change the person's mind, rather it could turn violent. That technique was to say you wanted their wallet or something so when the person would hand it over, you could grab their hands and pull them to safety. The only problem was that there were a lot of things that could go wrong with it. And she doesn't have anything on her that you could ask for.

"You know, Y/N. I've always admired you." Jungha suddenly said, steering the entire focus of the conversation off the tracks. Murmurs arose behind you from the staff and suddenly you weren't able to think properly. Why this now?

"Shut up." You whipped around to silence the staff before turning back to Jungha, "Why? Why have you admired me?" You were baffled at her statement about you.

"You have it perfect. Perfectly fine mind, healthy body, wonderful job. You have it all Y/N." Jungha sighed, her shoulders slumping and she hung her head low, staring at the ground. She calmed down a bit.

Only if she knew.

"Jungha, no one is perfect-"

"Is it gonna rain today?" Jungha suddenly looked up face to face with you.

She loved rain, almost everyday she would press her face against the window during the sessions with you and ask if it would rain or not. Since then you learned that if it did rain, she would simply ask if she could go out for a stroll and bask in the wet shower, just to enjoy the feeling of rain pouring down on her. You knew why she liked rain, you also like rain, in fact the two of you liked rain for one particular reason.

No one could see if you were crying.

But it wasn't raining outside right now, 'Shit.' you thought as warning bells went off in your head and cold sweat washed over you before you sprinted the last few steps to catch her as Jungha leaned back, taking a step backward.

And once again, you were too late. 〰️ 💠 〰️

"Time of death, 12:52 PM."

The ground floor of the west wing had been cordoned off and staff was cleaning up the floor. A body had been placed on a gurney and covered in a white cloth before being transported to the mortuary. Someone was busy wiping the blood off like it was a normal thing while the other one was disinfecting it completely.

You were nowhere to be seen on the premise.

The family of Jungha came a little too late. But not late enough to see a body hurtling to the ground with an audible crack and blood pooling out. It would have been better if they came later or never came at all, after all it was never a beautiful sight to see.

Before you disappeared, you did pay your respect to the family of the deceased as part of doctor's duty. It was nothing short of disappointment and anger from them. The mother slapped you with tears streaming down her face, yelling at you about how shitty and inconsiderate you were. You didn't fight back or shed any tears. You kept quiet and took it in, no one can never do anything against a mother in deep anguish over the loss of their child. No parent would wish to carry their children coffin before they passed away. That wasn't something you could change.

You had left the hospital earlier than your shift, it didn't matter if you left early. You were already past the quota of shifts that you needed to complete this month. All you wanted right now was to lay in the bed of the flat. Just some time alone to do your work would be great. Just like how you did with the rest of your days, a death in the routine didn't faze you in the slightest.

Namjoon heard the beeping sound of the passcodes being punched into, 'Why is she back so early?' he thought as he glanced at the time in the upper right corner of the PC in his room. In the time you were gone, he had decided to look up on you to see if he could find anything but alas there was nothing on you and he ended up getting side-tracked to reading through fan comments about him and his work. He stood up, pushing the chair behind him and walked to the entrance and greeted you.

"Hey." It was simple, short and curt.

You looked up from your shoes, ah, you had almost forgotten about him at the flat. "Oh, hey. You good?" You asked, striking a small conversation.

"Oh yeah I am good. Hey-uh thanks for letting me use your flat. I really appreciate it." Namjoon shyly thanked you with a soft smile.

"Anytime." You replied, "One condition though."

"Name it!" Namjoon chuckled, "One condition is nothing compared to what you have done for me."

"Never. Never bring work here. When you enter this flat. You leave work outside. That means absolutely anything from reading or writing or even thinking about it if possible." You sternly said with your eyes fixated on his face. You left no space for negotiations.

Namjoon opened his mouth to say something but your gaze shut him down. He was looking through comments a while back. That meant he couldn't do it anymore now, "I'll try." he hesitantly complied, he would definitely try, but if ideas and inspirations hit him while he was here then he would somehow have to make a mental note or at least jot it down before it's gone.

"Good. I'm going to work for a little bit. Feel free to do whatever you want." With that you walked towards the room in which you were going to work in bed.

'That's it?' Namjoon thought as he saw your figure close the door to the room. You really were someone he couldn't read at all. Yesterday, you seemed to be doing everything on impulse and on a whim but today you seemed distant. He had no clue about who you are other than your name, occupation and where you lived. Honestly, he found it intriguing. He wanted to know more of who you are and what kind of person you are. It would be awkward to just go to you and say 'Hey I want to know you a bit more. Can we chat?' like right now. 'Whatever, just go for it', Namjoon thought and with that he walked to where you went and pushed the door slightly and looked in with his head before fully stepping inside. He saw you sitting in the bed with the laptop and blanket over your legs. You had your headphones, presumably listening to music.

You felt a presence enter the room and you turned your head to find Namjoon standing, 'What can I help you with?" You asked as you closed your laptop and slipped your headphones off to listen to him.

"Ah, I just wanted to talk to you if you don't mind."

"About what?" You raised your eyebrows at him and patted on a spot across you on the bed for him to sit. Namjoon accepted the gesture and sat on the edge of the bed with one leg folded and the other resting against the side of the bed with the foot barely touching the floor.

"Oh um about anything really, I just want to want to get to know you a bit better since you know I'll probably be frequenting this place of yours." Namjoon looked down at your bedsheet and traced a circle over and over again with his index finger.

"Well, what do you want to know about me then?" You weren't really up for the idea of talking to him about you but he had a fair point. He was going to frequent this place and it wouldn't be ideal if he didn't know you but stayed anyways.

"Well for starters, what were you listening to?" Namjoon looked up to you.

"Music."

"Oh cool, I listen to music too. What kind of music?"

"Pop."

Few seconds passed by in the awkward atmosphere between the 2 of you.

"Okay um-nevermind this conversation. I'll be off to my room." Namjoon exhaled in slight disappointment at your lack of answers. Even talking to you was tough, he felt like he was pretty much talking to nothing.

"Okay no wait. Sorry I'm not much of a person to talk about myself." You felt shame in your actions flood your brain, " I'll admit I'm being a bit rude here. Uh the song I was listening to right now was she's in the rain by the rose. Uhm-listen to it. It's pretty good I guess." You leaned forward, hurriedly put your hand on his hand to stop him from going and then retracted your hand slowly once realizing the skin contact you had made. Small but it burned strongly at the fingertips. You didn't realize it then but the fact that the touch burned strongly was probably because you had deprived yourself of skin-ship for so long that you didn't remember how it felt anymore.

Namjoon halted and looked up to you, it soon dawned on him that you aren't much of a skin-ship person looking at how you retracted moments after barely touching him. He let out a small smile, he learned 2 things today. You like a song 'she's in the rain' by the rose and you aren't the type for skin-ships.

"Nah it's quite alright. I just wanted to know a bit about you since, you know I might be crashing this place frequently and it seems kind of weird that I don't know you at all." Namjoon slowly sat down again on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah, no that's absolutely right, you deserve to know a little about the host of the place." You murmured, keeping your eyes trained to the bed sheet surrounding your hands. A small silence followed after your reply and Namjoon took it as an end of the conversation. He slapped both of his palms flat against his thigh, "Right, well I better get going on with my stuff and let you do your own thing." Namjoon exhaled, he felt like he had in a way overstayed his stay near you. To be honest, he felt pretty awkward around you since it was out of your workspace and mostly because you felt 'difficult' or 'hard' to interact, there wasn't a click of a human connection, yet. For nth time he thought again if it was really a good idea to crash at your place when he felt it was too much and overbearing

"Ah, okay. Just remember, anytime you are welcome here Namjoon." You gave him a short and curt smile. Had anyone not been paying attention, they would have missed it. It was a tight-lipped smile but Namjoon appreciated it. Nevermind, he was gonna stay for a few hours more before leaving. 〰️ 💠 〰️

"Hyung. Where were you?" Jungkook's head perked up the moment he heard the footsteps of Namjoon entering the dorm. "You were gone for a few days, we got worried."

"Ah, I stayed at a friends house. Sorry for not informing." Namjoon replied as he rested the very blue painting he had been admiring in your place against the wall to shrug off his coat.

"Is that so?- To be honest it's getting concerning" Jungkook set down his bowl of snacks on the table that was once sitting on his lap on the couch. He twisted a little bit to the right to face the entrance and propped his arm on top of the couch backrest. He didn't miss the blue painting that was leaning against the wall, he had expected Taehyung to be the kind of person to bring artworks but not Namjoon though, maybe a bonsai tree or books being brought home would be normal.

"What's concerning?" Namjoon looked at him curiously, however he couldn't help but feel like he was going to get caught or that he had something to hide.

"You aren't what you used to be. Like when fans would come to you, you would be happy to take selfies with them but now you run away from them. It's kind of all over on news by the way, you running away from your fans. Now the media is calling you disrespectful." Jungkook looked up at him with his doe eyes. It felt like he was piercing through Namjoon to see what was Namjoon hiding, "But hyung, I've known you for a long time. Sure, running off wasn't quite nice but it's more than just running away from them because you don't want to see them. Am I right?" he hesitantly asked, hoping that Namjoon would clarify his thoughts that it was definitely more than just running away.

"Jungkook-ah it's fine. I will apologize anyways. I didn't want to see them really." Namjoon swallowed harshly and ended the conversation there, not allowing Jungkook to add in any further.

"Alright, if you say so Hyung." Jungkook wasn't fully convinced by what Namjoon said but decided to drop it to avoid pissing him off. A pissed off leader was the last thing the members in the dorm needed on their much awaited week off from their schedule.

Namjoon dragged himself to his room along with the painting and closed the door with an audible bang. Jungkook made a mental note to himself to tell other members that Namjoon is easily agitated nowadays.

Namjoon found himself staring at the sheet of paper in front of him, the blue painting had now been propped up against the wall opposite to his bed so that it would be the first thing she saw when he woke up and last thing to see before he went to sleep. He had everything he needed, a paper, a pencil, eraser and all sorts of things necessary to get going on with writing lyrics. What he was missing was his brain, well it was empty of thoughts and ideas. He was missing some kind of inspiration to write and all that was coming out of his head was lacklustre sentences. With a deep sigh he leaned back into his chair and hung his head backward as he looked at the plain white ceiling of his studio room. White and clean just like your office in the hospital.

Even though this wasn't relevant to the task he had forced himself to do, which was writing some lyrics, all that was coming to his mind at this moment was you. Your demeanor and words added to a confusing enigmatic character of you. He had never come across anyone extremely closed off- yet yearns to allow others to expose themselves to you. He figured you had some sort of trust issues, it would make sense if you did, only trusting others to spill information and so you wouldn't let on a single bit about yourself.

Who are you as a person? Do you have friends? Family? Someone special?

You on the other hand, were in your room and you still kept typing away on your laptop. You made sure to keep yourself busy at all times because you didn't want to think that you were alone and the whole place was quiet. You didn't want to be left alone to your own thoughts.

If there was one thing you hated the most, it was silence. Silence turned into a place for people to be vulnerable and face-to-face with their own thoughts, ideas and their own judgement that they promised would never come to see the light of the day.

Silence drove you nuts, because from silence it would transition into playful noises and laughters that could be heard though-out the house that was supposed to be long gone. Sometimes just the sound of someone entering home from a long day outside would get you eagerly excited like a dog waiting for its owner's arrival.

"Y/N! Get your ass down here!" A husky voice suddenly called from downstairs, it was your older brother, he had dropped out of University recently and started taking up jobs such as a barista and many other mundane jobs a high-school degree could get.

"Coming Seonghwa!" You hopped off your bed and hurriedly jogged downstairs to greet your brother by the doorsteps. Wooden floorboards creaking and groaning under your weight, the house and the flooring was old, probably in need of renovation soon but you didn't care. It was all your brothers could get with their earning and the leftover money from your late parents and you were more than happy with that.

"Are you ready? Shall we head to the hospital?" He ruffled your hair a little bit before flashing you his warm smile, his hair was slightly messy from the cap he wore at his workplace, there were bags underneath his eyes from constantly working overtime to scrape up as many cents he could.

"Yes, I am ready, let's get going." You slipped on your worn out converse shoes, it was loose and comfortable from all the years of constant rough wearing. An old ratty shoe that was due for a new one but you couldn't find it in your heart to get rid of it. It was a gift from your brothers years ago that you had cherished it even though it was originally a few sizes too big.

The two of you were heading to the hospital to meet your middle brother, Seonghwa was the oldest while you were the youngest and Hongjoong was the middle one. Your parents had long passed away or that is what you had been told by your brothers, so that is why Seonghwa had to drop out of University to start being the bread-winner of the family when the price of education was getting ludicrously high. It was originally Hongjoong who had dropped out to start working since he just finished high school and you were still doing your 11th grade while Seonghwa was halfway through 1st term. But things started to get worse, your middle brother had gradually started growing sicker each passing day and one fine day you found him collapsed in the kitchen, completely pale and depleted of energy.

After admitting Hongjoong to hospital, Seonghwa and you learned that he had brain cancer that had been ebbing his energy away and emotional stability bit by bit. After a long and lengthy talk session in the room your brother was admitted, the two of them decided that Seonghwa will drop out of university to fund the medical bills and let you continue your education. You hated the idea, but you didn't put up much of a fight. It was the most logical thing to do and you wanted to get into a medical school, earn well and save Hongjoong, that is if he keeps holding on till then.

Ever since then, the house grew emptier, only you were the one that stayed in the house, majority of the night the house was empty and the hospital room was filled with soft snores of the three of you sleeping together mixing with the faint beeping sound of the medical equipment. Hongjoong on the bed, you on the couch and Seonghwa on the makeshift bed right next to Hongjoong. Despite the rough times, you found comfort and solace in the presence of both your brothers, but that didn't stop you from feeling anxious every fleeting day about how Hongjoong was doing, about how Seonghwa was holding up. You could only see Hongjoong looking paler and paler despite him smiling. You could only see Seonghwa coming home more tired, more dull than the previous day yet he never failed to smile and keep you happy and give you company.

It was going great, really great, you had hopes that your brother would recover from brain cancer, your older brother would eventually be able to get back to studying university and everything would be back to normal.

That's what you thought, of course it's never that easy, never that good, life doesn't give it to you that easy.

It started declining steeply to a shitty end of a chapter, and it started with your elder brother first.

Suddenly a pinging sound resonated from your laptop and you were pulled back to reality harshly, you were still sitting on the bed, the only difference was that you slipped up and let yourself succumb to the silence. The music in the headphones had stopped playing a while back because it had reached the end of the playlist, so with a painful sigh and clenched up throat you pulled off your headphones and gingerly closed your laptop. The warmth of the memory slowly faded and cold air seeped through your skin. Your head felt heavy yet empty and a familiar negative feeling seemed to enclose around your head and your line of bright vision to a duller light.

You didn't feel like sleeping tonight, maybe another shift at the hospital wouldn't hurt. This was your coping mechanism, running away and busying yourself in work that gave you no space in your mind to think about anything else.

[drkoestersmithrpg]

When I Asked It I Meant It

“I asked you what you liked about my cock and you commented on the ceiling.  And then the window.  Is that why you shut down on me baby, because I was on top of you…..oh baby you’ve got to tell me these things!”

Peter watched him, slack-jawed, wide-eyed.  Tony was saying something that was probably important, but the only thing Peter could register was that his entire body had been tingling seconds before, setting nerves on fire that he hadn’t known existed, and now it was gone, and why was it gone?

“Is this why you shut down on me as soon as I got on top of you?  Petie …. baby you’ve…..oh baby …..”  Now Tony’s jaw was slack, and put his hand on his face, then both hands, as if hiding from some horror.

“Oh God I’ve made a mistake.”

Peter struggled to close his mouth – he must look ridiculous – and fought to find the words that would bring the vibrating back.  In vain he shook his head.  Ever since Tony had climbed on top of him he had felt fuzzy-headed, dizzy, as if injured or in shock.  Every thought was a struggle, every sight and sound muted, as if he were trying to think through a concussion, see through a cloud of concrete dust, hear with ringing ears.

But he was thinking, and what he was remembering now was that he had heard this lecture before, this lecture about communication and verbalizing and something about ‘desires.’  All these conditions Tony had laid out long before their clothes had come off….and hadn’t Peter agreed to all of it?  

“…unless you can talk to me…..unless you can communicate……..kid…….God I care for you so damn much……and I’ve been lusting after you like crazy…”

It was clicking.  It was clicking slowly, but it was clicking.   Tony had been talking the entire time (then again, Tony WAS a wall of sound.)  Those endless words that Tony had never stopped repeating “Are you ok?”  “Do you like this?”  

They weren’t rhetorical questions.  When he asked it, he actually meant it.

Peter scrubbed his eyes as if he could really clear the dust away.  He all but dug his fingers in his ears to get rid of the ringing.

And then Tony said something that he heard very clearly.

“Kid, I don’t think we should be doing this.”

He said something else but Peter was too busy pulling his hands away and kissing his mouth.  THOSE weren’t the right words, surely.  Those weren’t the words that would bring the tingling back.

Tony tried to keep talking (because, of course, he was Tony) but fortunately Peter was far stronger than the older man and soon had him back into the original wonderful position they had shared before.  

“OKsothisiswhatIwant…” Peter blurted out as soon as he came up for air.  “Shut up, do that again, don’t touch my face unless I ask you to and stop asking me so many damn questions!”

Tony tried to keep talking (because, of course, he was Tony) but Peter just stole a page out the Tony Book and concentrated instead on kissing a cheek and a jawline and a neck and whispering the same thing in an ear over and over and over again. (Mainly: Do it again to me Tony. Please.)

Tony tried to get up but Peter simply didn’t let him, and the smile that spread over his face when he realized that Peter was strong enough to hold him down was something Peter saw very clearly, and remembered.  

“I’m not sure about the ethical ramifications of oh Jesus Christ,” Tony moaned as Peter forced Tony’s hand around Tony’s cock and led the man back to where he was supposed to be. Then he had Tony’s mouth on his neck and he grinned from ear to ear because he had won.

But Tony’s cock inside him and Tony’s body touching him was all to much, so he pulled away and dropped his head back, gazing up into Tony’s beautiful (oxygen filled) vaulted ceiling as he let the older man guided him through the process, just as patient as before. It was even better this time, because Peter wasn’t just high on oxygen but enjoying every tiny sensation of finger, then fingers, then more.  Goosebumps piled upon goosebumps and every nerve was on fire.  When he wanted he could look down into those dark, dark eyes and watch that beautiful face smile, but when it got to be too much he could simply look upward again.    

Tony didn’t speak at all.

Until Peter looked down at the place where their bodies joined together.  He was taking it so deeply now, so easily, bottoming out on Tony’s hand effortlessly.  He was really very proud of himself – until he looked down and saw that Tony’s hand was in the middle of his shaft and there was plenty left over.

Really, this man was ridiculous.

Peter groaned.  

But Tony only laughed and shook his head.  “Never mind about him, just take what you need.”  His smile was blissful, and once again Peter realized that the man meant what he said.

Feeling Tony’s hand against his skin grounded him.  Sometimes he bent his head to touch Tony’s body, or to kiss a shoulder, nothing more. He took Tony’s hand and cupped his face with it – and then he realized…

   “Talk to me again.”

Tony’s smiled and moaned, practically laughing.  “What do you want me to say?”

“What you said before.”

And then the words were back, making him feel like he had been wrapped up in a secure blanket (instead of piling upon him like brick after brink until he was crushed calling out pointlessly for help.)  Yes, the words were repeated over and over again, but now it was less like an annoyance and more like a lullaby.  

And, occasionally, there were questions.  

“Does it feel good?”  and Peter smiled because when he nodded, he meant it.

“How does it feel?”

Just moments before he had been trapped under Tony’s body and trying to cope with the invasion of his absurdly large cock and he had sworn that if Tony had asked him that question ONE MORE TIME he was going to throw someone through a window.

But now he could open his eyes and whimper “This feels amazing” and watch Tony’s sincere, relieved smile.  

Two hours before this moment Peter had thought that he would have done ANYTHING to get into Tony Stark’s arms, into Tony Stark’s life.  He said it to Tony who had reluctantly agreed.  Only when they got into bed did Peter realized this was *not* going to be an easy task – lying underneath Tony and waiting for it to be over took a LOT longer than it had with any other guy – and to add insult to injurty there was ALL THAT COCK.  *Far* too much for any reasonable person to deal with.

Knowing that he was the one making Tony feel good should have made some temporary unpleasantness worthwhile, if only the unpleasantness hadn’t gone on for SO LONG.

But now – now this was different.  This wasn’t hanging on and keeping still (and not clenching down!) for a few minutes and reveling in the compliments later.  This was…..this was a whole new world.

Making Tony happy, making Tony proud, was what Peter lived for – and now all Peter had to do to make Tony happy was say “This feels amazing” when something felt amazing – and there were so.  Many. Somethings.  (And when it got to be too much all Peter had to do was look up into the vaulted ceiling and things were better again.)

It seemed to go on forever. And thank the god of penises that his previous prayer (on fuck just make the man come already) had not been answered.

Tony’s legendary prowess had all been theoretical up until the fucking began, when it became quite the nightmare.  But now Peter was beyond grateful.  As he rode Tony slowly and steadily, constantly bottoming out on Tony’s hand (pushing Tony’s hand lower and lower) Tony appeared to be in no hurry at all, smiling up at Peter every time the boy blinked in surprise at the newest sensation.

“Yes…yes baby that’s right….. ah?  That feels good…. yes!”  Tony moaned and raised his head, pulling closer to his lover when Peter’s breath caught and his whimpering took on a whole new urgency.  Peter grabbed Tony’s hand and moved it to his own cock and they began working together and Peter realized that it was actually possible that he might…

But then his body began tightening in anticipation and he heard Tony hiss in surprise.  In terror he pulled away from cock, hands and arms and launched himself to the other side of the bed.

“What?  What did I do?”  Tony started but, to his credit, didn’t reach out to touch Peter at all.  For a moment they both lay, panting, in silence. Tears formed in Peter’s eyes, but then he turned to look up at the lovely vaulted ceiling and remembered to breathe.

Tony touched his arm, gently, with the back of his hand.  “Ok, I have to ask one question…..”

“Sorry,” Peter whispered, taking Tony’s hand.  It felt like a friendly gesture and made it easier to talk. “I’ve never…..I didn’t think I would…..I haven’t actually……”

Tony drew a little closer and his warm, brown eyes made things a lot easier. “I’m afraid to come,” Peter whispered. “I’m a lot stronger than…..”  He sighed in frustration and closed his eyes.

“When I come, I break things.”

Silence.  Peter peaked out from under his eyelids to see Tony’s “Herm….interesting problem” face.  Peter recognized that face – so much so that when Tony suddenly sat up and climbed off the bed Peter was far more curious than embarrassed.  He willingly took Tony’s offered hand and let him lead him out of the room.

They went down a hallway into another bedroom, a guest bedroom Peter guessed. The bed there had an ornate wrought-iron headboard.  The windows were covered by a heavy curtain – Tony let go of Peter’s hand and pulled them open to reveal another large window.  Peter relaxed immediately as Tony grinned, took Peter’s hand and led him to the head of the bed.  He placed Peter’s hands on the headboard, and guided him into position – one leg bent and resting on the bed, the other foot on the floor.  When Peter gave him a curious look, Tony shrugged.  And grinned.

“I….may have spent a lot of time thinking about this.”

“You thought about….this?”  But Tony just turned him toward the wall.

Tony did not enter him again, only pressed his erection up against Peter’s body and stroked him gently, and then firmly, with his hand.  His other hand he kept on Peter’s waist, until Peter pulled the arm around him.  He could press his entire body against Tony’s as long as his chest was free (and he could occasionally look out the window.)  

“Yes….yes baby…..let it happen,” Tony crooned again and now they seemed like the sweetest words in the world.  Peter pressed his face to Tony’s face and let Tony kiss and whisper in his ear. “Have you really never come with another man before?”  Peter wasn’t embarrassed anymore, and just grinned at the absurdity of it all.  “No, I just……don’t.  Tony are you sure?”  he asked, looking suddenly in alarm and what was in his hands as he felt the pressure build.

Tony was sure.

He came with Tony chanting his name and urging him on.  He came so hard tears formed in his eyes and he temporarily forgot the English language.  But Tony remembered.  Tony held him close.

“OhgodTonyI’msorry’ he mumbled when he finally opened his eyes.  In addition to destroying that side of the headboard, he had, at some point, put his hand through the wall.  But Tony seemed to have no regrets.  Tony was holding him, eyes closed, and whispering impossible things.

“Oh Jesus Christ I love you kid.  Oh God help me I love you Peter Parker.”  Peter wasn’t even sure if he was supposed to have heard it.  He reached backward and put his hand on Tony’s head.

“You’re still hard,” he said when he finally pulled out of Tony’s embrace to turn around.  

“Don’t worry about me,” Tony asked, smiling tenderly.  “Are you kidding?  I’m just psyched to know I’m the only man on the planet to ever give Spider-Man and orgasm.”  

“Wait….come with me,” Peter said, with a sudden inspiration.  He took Tony’s hand and led him back to the original bedroom.  

“What can I say?” he improvised when he led them both to the window.  “I may have spent a lot of time thinking about this.”

“Aren’t you sore?”  Tony asked, even as placed himself in position again.  “No, I told you, nothing hurts.  No…come closer.”

The cold of the window pressing against his chest made Tony’s body heat pressing against his back easier to bear.  The man was very close to him but being vertical (with the wide-open NYC skyline in front of him) made it possible, and even pleasant.  Soon he wasn’t even looking at the stars, but at the reflection of Tony’s face in the window.  Knowing that he was the one making Tony feel that way was a beautiful thing.

Still, he had to hide a grin.  He was grinning to himself because he had lied.

This was not, at all, the way he had pictured making love together.

He had thought about it – oh yes, he had thought about it a lot.  

But when he pictured them making love together, they were flying.

[itsclydebitches]

For the Ozqrow prompts can them hugging be a thing? After this episode I feel like those boys need a damn hug. Or maybe couples therapy and communication...

I’m so not equipped to be the one dishing out therapy for these two lol. But behold! The Argus trip that absolutely, totally happened! (Also less “Ozqrow” and more “Wholesome family feels” since Oscar ended up getting involved - sorry if that’s not what you were looking for! :o) 

You did well out there.

Oscar shut his eyes, taking a moment to just let the words wash over him. With the grimm dead and behind them he could now feel a fierce ache settling into his limbs; the pounding of a bruise where his aura had broken while trying to scramble to safety. He was so thirsty he could barely swallow and his hands were numb with cold—except they blossomed with pain as soon as he packed the cane back up and slipped it onto his belt. Oscar had a headache. He had adrenaline still pumping through his veins. He had the vague sense that he knew all these feelings intimately, even though they were rather strange to a former farmhand.

He had pride that he’d done that.

As you should. Ozpin’s voice floated easily on the top of his mind today, crisp and clear. Your speed has increased immensely. As has the control over your aura.

“And I’m not attacking dust-infused murderers head on…”

The hum Oscar felt was simultaneously supportive and vaguely amused. Getting your ass kicked so hard that all you could do was lie in bed for three days gave a guy plenty of time to chat with the voice in his head, and those chats had revolved primarily around the topic of How to Judge When a Fight Will Get You Killed. It had taken Oscar about 48 hours and plenty of sniping… but he could admit now that he’d been a little hasty in trying to take on Hazel by himself.

Everything was just so complicated.  

On that, at least, we can agree. But take heart, Oscar. You stood your ground today and you won.

“We won.”

And yes, a vague impression of Ozpin was included in the group that Oscar instinctually thought of. Having Jaune boost Ren’s aura had been a fantastic idea, allowing the grimm farther back to drop off completely, no longer drawn by the relic and a mass of terrified people. Relying on Weiss’ ice was another—they didn’t need to kill these grimm, just keep them from catching up. She’d captured wings and tails against the mountainside, Ruby shouting something about good times as she cut through the rest. Oscar hadn’t really followed it.

Ms. Schnee kept a Nevermore contained during initiation, giving the rest of her future team time to dispatch it. Ozpin’s voice reverberated with pride. A remarkable feat for an incoming student, considering the timing that move required. Ms. Schnne has always had a particular talent for precision.

“Weiss.”

…I’m sorry?

“You’re living in my head and I’m living with them. You should probably drop the formalities. I mean,” Oscar shrugged. “It’s not like you’re their headmaster anymore.”

Oh. He hadn’t meant that to sound so mean. He felt the brief flash of pain and regret and want that flowed through them… and then Ozpin reigned it all back in. Oscar was left with a hand pressing against his head and a voice trying desperately to sound chipper.

Perhaps you’re right.

“Hey, kid! Don’t go fainting on me.”

Qrow wound his way through the train’s passengers, many of them blocking the flow as they stopped to stare at Oscar. They’d all felt the first hit from the grimm of course, heard the defense mechanisms winding up, but they probably hadn’t expected one of their saviors to be a short-statured boy still dressed for the farm. Oscar sheepishly kicked the rest of the snow off his boots as Qrow finally made it to his side.

He had a martini in hand. With an orange slice.

We just got in, Oscar thought, barely managing to keep from saying it aloud. In the back of his mind a familiar warning built and Oscar pinched their shared arm because yeah, yeah, they’d been over this. He’d grown up in a family where everyone worked dawn to dusk and where potential mishap—a flooded field, a cattle’s breach birth, even a grimm attack—meant that everyone had to be clearheaded. Always. His aunt had never approved of drinking and frankly neither did Oscar… no matter how much Ozpin was willing to give Qrow a free pass.  

We retain our separate opinions on the matter. Ozpin’s voice was once more tinged with a thread of amusement and…okay. Yeah. That was oddly reassuring.

Oscar’s shoulders slumped. “I’m just tired,” he said.

“You and me both. Like this month needed to get any crazier, huh?” Qrow took a long sip of his drink, but his eyes never left Oscar. They traveled from his soaked pants up into windblown hair. Then they narrowed. “You’re gonna freeze to death like that long before we hit Atlas. Go change. Then the squirts are all gathering in Ruby’s room to play video games. Wanna help me kick their ass?”

It sounded fun… though only in a theoretical way. Play video games with a bunch of kids his own age? Yeah. That’d be great. Oscar had often thought about that on the farm, what it would be like to go to school and make friends and just have someone other than his aunt around—

(I’m here.) 

—but Oscar also knew that they’d already tried this. Everyone was nice while training, but then they’d all go off in their own groups when it was time to relax. They weren’t ignoring him exactly. They just didn’t seem to think he fit. And Oscar got it. He hadn’t gone to Beacon, or experienced the things that bound them all together. He wasn’t a member of a team. And it probably didn’t help that every time he walked into a room people got awkward with the automatic adult who joined them.

…I’m sorry.  

“Alright, alright, you’ve convinced me.”

Oscar blinked. “What?”

“No, don’t worry, this dusty old crow doesn’t need to hear anymore. C’mon then.”

Qrow had set his drink on the small window-ledge. He was blocking the hallway now, standing with his feet planted and his arms slightly raised at his sides. The pose seemed at once exaggerated and familiar to him—though this time Oscar couldn’t tell if that was a familiarity on his end or Ozpin’s. A vague, embarrassed, grumbling sort of feeling suggested the latter.

“Jeez you’re bad at this,” Qrow said when he’d apparently stood still a moment too long. The next thing Oscar knew he was being pulled roughly against Qrow’s chest, the smell of alcohol and sweat overwhelming. He instinctually pushed back and Qrow’s arms tightened a fraction. Oscar paused.

He did smell like alcohol… but smoke too. Not cigarette smoke, but something woodsier; like Qrow had recently sat near a fire. With the initial shock gone Oscar could admit that Qrow’s shirt was a whole lot softer than it looked and his arms were a rather comforting weight around his back and shoulders. His aunt never hugged like this. She was light and quick, pulling Oscar quickly to her side before pushing him back out again. Qrow was solid—he was warm—and Oscar found himself instinctually relaxing against what felt like an immovable pillar; the one sturdy object amongst all this craziness. His hands inched up around Qrow’s waist and buried in the fabric he found there.

“There you go,” Qrow chuckled, moving one arm up to ruffle Oscar’s hair. Qrow felt him tense and immediately returned the limb to its former position, a clear statement of: I’m not pulling away. “I’ve got two nieces, kid. I know when a squirt needs a hug. Granted, Ruby usually just hangs off my arm and Yang prefers piggybacks. But it all amounts to the same. Besides, I used to do this for—”

Qrow paused, sighing.

Me.

The merge was a slow and arduous process, the kind of thing you only realized was happening when you looked back and bothered to compare where you were with where you’d been. Lately Oscar had found himself mimicking the way Ozpin sat with their cane and Ozpin sometimes spoke about the farm like he’d been the one to grow up there. Things were messy now, unclear boundaries with equally unclear origins. Were they really becoming one, or were they just so used to one another that they’d picked up on certain habits?

Oscar wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

But the merge was granting them new abilities as well, things beyond just access to Ozpin’s muscle memory. They’d found now that they could control their shared body without a full, formal switch—which was what happened now, Oscar’s fingers uncurling to instead press flat palms against Qrow’s back. The pressure had the same desperate tinge to it though.

Oscar was the one who buried their face in Qrow’s shirt. Ozpin was the one who held on.

“That’s not me,” Oscar whispered, wanting him to understand, not entirely sure he did either. Qrow just gathered him up further.

“I know, kid. I know.”

[taz-writes]

Chapter 1 Version 2, Electric Boogaloo

hiiiiiii, guess who got stuck with book 4 after all and went back to obsess over perfecting book 1? ME. I’ve shifted goals from “finish drafting the series” to “finish a beta-worthy version of book 1″ and I think that’s honestly more achievable right now. 

for those who’ve been following my WIP a while, this is very similar to the chapter 1 that I shared back in August, but I’ve changed a few elements of the continuity and evened out the prose. (Here’s the old version if you’re curious.) I still love Sayara with all of my heart. 

also I misplaced my tag list AGAIN, I’m starting to think it might be more effort than it’s worth to keep up with it :( I am very bad at this. 

The usual disclaimer: this is still an early draft, there are probably issues with it! It’s more polished than the last version, but please forgive any weird glitches :)

-

My favorite part of the Tsi palace was always the library—it was an endless treasure trove of ancient knowledge and secrets, what’s not to love? When I was little, I’d spend hours in there, roaming through towering stacks of books and skipping between the columns of rainbow light that crept in through the stained-glass windows. No matter how chaotic the rest of the building was, being the center of the capitol of one of the largest tribes in Feilan and all, the library was always beautifully serene.

The serenity evaporated when I sprinted straight through the grand double doors at full tilt, skidding to a dusty halt just past the attendant’s desk. It was beautiful, incredible, until my foot went flying out from under me. I slammed butt-first into the fancy Cydre rug, slid, and plowed directly into the legs of the library attendant.

“Sayara?!” he exclaimed, catching himself on the corner of the desk as I dragged myself onto my feet and wheezed.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I—”

“Good. All according to plan,” I gasped, clutching at a stitch in my side. “Nobody knows I’m here. Keep it that way. And say hi to your brother for me!!” He rolled his eyes and straightened his jacket.

“Try not to knock over any students today.”

“Good chat, gotta go!!” I brushed library dust off of my scuffed-up breeches and checked the safety of the little box in my pocket, before making a mad dash into the stacks. Just up the ladder and two rows down, and then I’d be home free in a secret passage on the way to my north tower base. Brennadine’d never manage to follow me.

“Sayara! I mean it, young lady, get back here!” My governess’s strident voice rang through the atrium, and I sped up, stifling manic laughter and jumping onto the nearest ladder. I almost lost my balance when the weight of all the stuff in my pockets went swinging back and forth.

The ceilings in the library were high and arched, but not quite high enough to fly under, probably to discourage people like me from doing barrel rolls through the stacks. I could’ve totally pulled it off, if the roof was a little higher. Once I reached the top of the ladder, I scrambled up the last few shelves, and pushed myself on top of the stack entirely. I had to keep my head down to make sure I wouldn’t hit anything.

The next bit was the tricky part. Jumping rows was kind of dangerous. If I fell I’d have about 20 feet to go before I’d hit the ground, and usually I waited for a drifter case to float by and bridge the gap, but Lady Brennadine was hot on my heels. Being a governess and all, she loved manners—until it was time to chase me through the palace and lecture me for having a personality, at which point she’d abandon them completely in favor of clenched fists and shouting.

I paused to assess the situation. I could probably make the jump to the next row, but I was a klutz, and I didn’t need a broken ankle right now or ever. If I stood up to get a running start, I’d hit my head and fall, and then I’d crash into the group of academy students below and I really didn’t want to hurt anybody. The closest drifter case was still two shelves away, waylaid by someone trying to page through its contents.

But I couldn’t just let her catch me, she was pissed and I could think of at least four possible schemes she might’ve discovered. If she caught me with the new enchanted nutcracker in my pockets, she’d definitely assume the worst. I was both stronger and more agile than Brennadine, so if she grabbed me I theoretically could slip out pretty easily, but then I’d be in even more trouble—better to not get caught in the first place. But the gap was so wide...

By the time I resolved myself to jump for it, she was already up the ladder.

“Down. Now.” Brennadine clicked her fingers impatiently, then reached up to pull on my ankle. I took a deep breath, and launched myself off the end of the shelf—not realizing that my shoe had come untied until the laces snagged under my other foot and I tumbled headfirst over the side.  

I yelped, scrabbling at the bookshelf to catch myself, and knocked an entire row of encyclopedias away with me. The contents of my pockets went flying everywhere, too, which was arguably worse.

Brennadine’s hand came out of nowhere, and I grabbed on for dear life, and then everything stopped around me in the grip of her skilled telekinesis.

“How many times have we talked about this, again?” she reprimanded, clearly short of breath. I didn’t respond, I was too busy grappling with her unbelievably sweaty arm. “We—do not—climb—on top of the stacks.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled, swinging my legs towards the shelf. I missed, kicking over more books, but managed to find purchase when I swung back. She was blatantly wrong, of course. People definitely climbed on top of the stacks, otherwise there wouldn’t be so many footprints up there. They couldn’t all be mine.

“You owe Mr. Baum an apology. For Four’s sake...” Brennadine kept mumbling to herself, but I elected to ignore her. I climbed down to ground level and scrambled to collect everything from my pockets, while she reassembled the library in a mist of teal-green telekinesis. The special nutcracker went immediately into my deepest pocket, I hoped she hadn’t noticed it... my box had rolled halfway under a shelf, but it was fine. I checked the hinges. Still jammed.

“It’s really all right, ma’am,” the library attendant promised. He started tidying up the books Brennadine hadn’t caught. “Oh, and Sayara, Daevin says thanks. I hope you weren’t helping him cheat again.”

“It’s not cheating, it’s entrepreneurial studying.” Brennadine scoffed. I tried to pointedly avoid eye contact, but she wouldn’t look at me, either.

If she wasn’t looking at me, then I had an opportunity. There was another passage to the tower within sprinting range, in the hall outside the armory. I took a few slow steps backwards, testing for a reaction. Nobody moved. I backed away further. When I hit the next shelf, I broke into a run.

A stray book swung into the backs of my knees, tripping me. “Don’t you dare,” Brennadine snarled, replacing the book with a flick of her wrist. Mr. Baum had taken over the task of sorting everything I’d knocked over. I laughed nervously.

“Actually, I think I have that geometry test to study for, since you told me to work on that, so I’ll just—”

“Sayara Ilse Tyriea.”

“You don’t have to full-name me!” Brennadine sighed and laid a hand on my shoulder, shutting me down before I could protest further.

“You need to behave with more grace.”

“Hey, I’ve got grace!”

“Is that so?” Brennadine raised her eyebrows, nodding back towards the wreckage of the bookshelves. I cringed.

“Well... unlike you, at least I wore pants today.”

“What? I’m wearing—SAYARA!!” Brennadine let go of me for an instant to check her trousers, and I made a break for the exit. The doors slammed shut in front of me.

“Quiet in the library,” Mr. Baum sighed from the stacks.

“Whatever you found, it was probably someone else’s fault!” I leaned up against the doors, swallowing reflexive manic laughter. Brennadine pinched the bridge of her nose, visibly exhausted.

“This is not an accusation,” she said. “And it has nothing to do with whatever half-baked scheme you’ve worked out in the old north tower.” My jaw went slack.

“What old north tower?” I bluffed. How did she know about the tower? You couldn’t even get inside without taking multiple secret passages, and Brennadine was hardly the type of woman to go exploring in the palace.

“I am not an idiot. I’ve seen you leave torches lit up there, and you must be going somewhere when you aren’t in your rooms,” Brennadine said. “I also know about the jewelry box, which needs to be returned to where it came from, please. Now listen to me.”

“What do you want? It’s my day off, you said. I thought you were going somewhere.”

“Your father wants you to accompany him this afternoon,” Brennadine said, grimacing in the most polite way possible.

“Isn’t he busy? I thought he and Hope were going somewhere.”

“Yes, and he’s inviting you to come with him,” she said. I blinked. “At far too late a moment, too, your sister has been preparing for weeks—”

“To what? Where?”

“Let’s not disturb the library any further,” Brennadine huffed. She grabbed me by the arm and pulled me out into the corridor, starting a brisk walk towards the residential wing. “Sayara. Today is Kyvesse the 14th.”

“...Yes?”

“Sayara, have you been neglecting your politics lessons?”

“Why do you only use my name when you’re telling me off?”

“You should know what’s going on this afternoon.”

“Um...” As much as I tried, I was drawing a total blank. I shoved my hands in my pockets. “There’s a...thing? A political thing.” Brennadine stopped in her tracks, and I walked into her by accident, stumbling. “What?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she leaned heavily against the wall, her head thumping into the wallpaper. She looked so exhausted that I almost felt bad for her.

“There’s a thing. A thing.”

“Well, I’m not wrong,” I said, still wracking my brains for any memory of what Brennadine could be so worked up about. She sucked in a long nasal breath before exploding.

“The Convention of Tribes!! Today is the Convention of Tribes, and your father, the Tsi King, is extending you a spur-of-the-moment invitation! A thing, oh no, this is only the most important national political event of the year—no one would normally dream of bringing children of questionable origins along, but you’ve been granted that high honor out of nowhere, and here we are—a thing!” She laughed a bit hysterically, her left eye starting to twitch.

“Wait, you mean the Convention Convention?!” I blurted out, a little too loud. “But that’s...”

“Incredibly last-minute and ill-advised and threatening the fabric of the entire situation, yes, precisely!”

“I was going to say soon, doesn’t it always start at noon?” I wasn’t sure what time it was now, but it sure wasn’t early, and the Feian capitol was a few hours’ ride away.

“I’ve been trying to find you for two hours!” Brennadine exclaimed.

“But I’ve only been running a few minutes—”

“I expect you dressed in your best suit and ready to leave in fifteen minutes, I’ll tolerate no tomfoolery. Go. If I see that box with you, I will pitch it out a window.”

“But that’s barely any time at all!”

“And whose fault is that? Go,” she snapped. I dashed away before she could get meaner.

The Convention of Tribes? For once, Brennadine was right about something. I was about as prepared for the Convention as I was to fly to the actual moon. It was a choreographed political dance, tangled alliances and tempers and cultural exchanges mixing into a treacherous mess of checks and balances. You couldn’t just prepare for that in fifteen minutes!

This was a big freaking deal. I had to make the best possible impression—this could be the start of a career. Forget the top of my game, I’d have to be on top of the whole world...

But first, the original thing I’d been trying to achieve before Brennadine threw me off-track. When I started up the stairs to my room, I shoved my hand deep into my pockets, and retrieved the nutcracker and the box.

That jewelry box had been the bane of my existence ever since I’d first begun exploring the palace, back when I was seven or eight years old. I’d found it by itself in the dustiest corner of the dusty old north tower, looking like it hadn’t been touched in decades, or maybe even centuries. The box itself was plain, but an expensive-looking kind of plain—it was flocked with dark blue velvety fabric that hadn’t faded a bit despite the neglect, and dust-repellent spells that long-lasting didn’t come cheap. The hinges hadn’t rusted or eroded even a little bit. Naturally, I wanted to know what was inside.

But despite its great condition, the box wouldn’t open. It didn’t have a lock, the hinges were clean and seemed functional, I couldn’t see any evidence of sealing enchantments—not even through an aura-glass lens, and the good ones picked up even ancient traces of magic—it just wouldn’t work. I’d been trying to pry it open for years, fiddling with lockpicks, hitting it with hammers, I even set it on fire once, but nothing happened. It didn’t even burn.

I had to know what was in there. I’d heard from a few of the maids’ kids that the kitchen commissioned this new nutcracker, that had a really powerful breaking spell on it (for opening kysthers), and I figured I could try it on the case. It was something I could handle on the go, but the box was a little too big to fit properly between the pincher thingies. I jostled it in, finally squeezing the nutcracker handle as I pushed open the stairwell door into the residential wing.

Still nothing. Bummer. I’d mess with it more later.

I was going to the Convention of Tribes. Like, as in, my dad thought I was important enough to go to the Convention. Validation was sweet. This was the only major political event on a national scale where the heirs and protégés of the rulers were actually expected to attend alongside their tribes’ leaders, the big meetup where the Queen and tribes negotiated federal legislation. It was also one of the only times the Queen of Feilan would appear before the tribal nobility in person.

If I was smart about it, this could be a life-changing opportunity. Nobody ever took me seriously—I wasn’t usually invited to the Convention, I never got to sit in on Council meetings, I never had the chance to do anything important. If Dad changed his mind, then things were going to be different.

I ricocheted into my bedroom, tossing the nutcracker on my desk, and ruffled through the closet for my nice formal suits. I only owned one formal jacket that wouldn’t be a torture instrument in Rinali summer heat, but my good summer blouse was crumpled in a ball under my bed somewhere. I’d have to wear the green one I stole from Hope, even though it didn’t fit me right, my shoulders were too wide. I was in such a hurry to get my nice breeches onto my body that I put them on backwards three times in a row.

I ran for the door, then hesitated. Something was missing. I pulled my day breeches out of the growing laundry pile and dumped out the pockets. A few handfuls of sparkly rocks and acorns tumbled out, alongside the jewelry box. I grabbed the sparkliest quartz cluster and an acorn for luck, then poured them into my formal pants pockets, followed by the box—screw Brennadine’s rules—and a twisted length of twine. You never knew when string would come in handy. Empty pockets unnerved me.

Jewelry! Jewelry was a thing people wore at formal occasions. I bounced on my toes, thinking through the contents of my normal jewelry box, then snatched up a few gold sparkly things and jammed them in my other pocket. I’d deal with that on the ship, it was a couple hours’ ride to Eth Zantaara anyway.

By the time I made it back downstairs, armed with a little moleskin notebook and as much information about the other royals as I could remember, Brennadine and my sister were already waiting at the stairwell. I could practically see the hourglasses running down in Brennadine’s eyes.

“You forgot your circlet,” Hope said immediately. “And you’re late.”

“I know,” I said. I fumbled through my pockets, praying that the little gold circle of chain had been in the fistful of stuff I brought. It was, and I detangled it as best I could from a few necklaces before pulling it unevenly over my forehead. Hope rolled her eyes. I pulled my bangs out from under the band, hoping it’d make my head look less like an egg.

“Brennadine said you knocked over an entire bookshelf.”

“Nobody told me I was coming,” I said. “I’ve been busy, I was trying to—”

“Your bangs are a mess. Is that my shirt?” She walked over and fiddled with my hair as I protested weakly, the smell of her fancy imported perfume crashing into my nose like salt water. As always, Hope looked perfect, her platinum-blonde hair done up in some intricate braided bun and her eyes outlined neatly in charcoal. She could’ve been in a painting or something.

“It looks better on me,” I said.

“Absolutely not!”

“I think you’re jealous, green’s definitely my color. You’re a pathetic imitator in comparison.” I flicked one of my braids dramatically. Hope grabbed it and flicked it back into my face.

“I want that blouse back when we get home.”

“Boo hoo.”

“Boo hoo,” Hope mocked. “You look like you’ve been pulled sideways on the rack, I swear you’ll rip all the seams.”

“Well, you look like a taxidermied wildcat.”

“Let’s go, girls,” Brennadine said, sweeping down the hall towards the skyship dock. Hope scanned the rest of my outfit in appraisal mode, and I braced for impact.

“Please tell me you don’t have rocks in your pockets on the way to the Convention of Tribes,” she said.

“Throw the rocks away, Sayara,” Brennadine said absently. “We’ve talked about this.”

“I do not have rocks in my pockets,” I said, shuffling my pants so neither of them could see the rocks in my pockets. “You’re always accusing me of things.”

Hope didn’t reply. Hope raised magic, the stupid cheating cheater, and levitated my entire pocket inside out.

“Hey!” I snatched for my stuff, but Hope was faster.

“What is this, did you steal this from the tailor?” Hope asked, levitating my coil of twine into her hand. She made a face. “Or did it come from a shipwright?”

“Give it back!”

“You can’t bring string to the Convention of Tribes!”

“Why not? It was going to stay in my pocket, it could be useful,” I said. Hope rolled her eyes, and I made another grab for my things. This time I managed to catch most of my rocks, plus the jewelry box. I crammed it all back into my pocket. Brennadine gave her the evil eye as we boarded the royal yacht, and only then did Hope finally return my twine.

Hope never liked me. We got along all right, most of the time, and passed the rest off as normal sibling rivalry, but there’s more than that—the tension between us has been making things difficult ever since I came to the palace, back when I was so little I barely remembered anything. Hope and I are only half-sisters. I don’t know who my mom was, and if Dad does, he’s never said. He legitimized me as a member of the Tsi royal family a couple years ago, but the law couldn’t make Hope tolerate me.

If I didn’t know better, I’d think Hope saw me as a threat. That was her business and all if it was true, I’d long since learned not to care, but I wished she could be a little more subtle sometimes.

Brennadine was talking about politics now. Hope nodded along, commenting on every single line with her perfect talking points, which she somehow managed to produce even though she didn’t know what she was talking about. I left her to it—she liked to act like I was stupid, so that could be her problem. Oh, Sayara, you’re never paying attention. Blatant lies. I just paid attention selectively. Involuntarily selectively. Whatever.

This year’s Convention of Tribes was a stand-out for a few reasons, mostly involving the Irkatzi, our southern neighbor tribe. Out of Feilan’s twelve formally-recognized principalities, the Irkatzi were the most persistently outspoken. They were notorious for picking big melodramatic fights with the ruling del Aphir family, which would eventually be resolved with some tax shifts and truces, and then ten years later they’d be back to the same old song. Dad alternated between griping about them and calling them great entertainment.

“Excellent, you’re all here!” The door to the ship’s cabin swung open, and Hope’s eyes lit up.

“Dad! I was wondering when you’d arrive, I thought that with Sayara’s delay you would have beaten us to the ship!” Hope curtsied, perfectly as always, and then ran forward to hug our father. He hugged back with his fair share of amusement. I waved awkwardly.

Tsi King Doriel wasn’t the kind of man most people would picture when they thought of a king. He was on the shorter side, with worn-looking hands and a very square chin and light hair that always needed a trim. He was built stocky, more like me than Hope, and he dressed plainly. The heavy sapphire-studded crown on his head was the only real evidence of his rank, along with the fine make of his clothing.

“My preliminary meeting with the Council ran late,” he said by way of apology, grimacing. “Governor Heiden is still pushing that bank bill. He seemed delighted with the idea of humiliating me at the Convention by holding me late—remind me to say something to his constituents about that. Maybe they’ll solve the problem for me.”

“We’ve been discussing the issues on the table. Hope is very prepared, though Sayara is quite scatter-brained today,” Brennadine said. I bit back a protest.

“I’m so sorry for the late notice,” Dad said. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be ready for an event like this, but Brennadine said you’ve done well in your tutoring, so I changed my mind.”

“She did?” I blinked. “Wait, why wouldn’t I be ready?”

“We must remember what happened when you last sat in on a Council meeting,” Brennadine pointed out. I wilted a little.

“It was just that one time! It got really loud, and people were yelling...”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dad said quickly. “I think you’ll be just fine.” The little part of me that was dying inside perked up again.

“Good!”

“I notice you’ve made excellent marks in your tutoring. Brennadine tells me you’re quite skilled with history.”

“I’m trying my best.”

“If only you could transfer some of that passion into your other subjects,” Brennadine muttered.

“You’re familiar with the issues on the table at this Convention, correct?” Dad asked as the yacht took off.

“Yeah!”

“What does the Queen want?”

“The Queen hasn’t requested anything personally, but her advisors are pressuring us to cut grounded roads through the Deeps to access the coast,” I said. “It’s part of an infrastructure plan. They want safe landed highways through Tsi, Javrier, and Irkatzi territories, and they want them policed and open. They also want free access to the River Safir for Rinali merchants.”

“And our stance on this is?”

“They’re idiots who’ve never been in the woods before, and they should stick to our skyways unless they’re willing to pay for the roads themselves.” Dad grimaced.

“In court language?”

“Fine,” I grumbled. “Land highways are expensive and difficult to maintain, we have better priorities for our budget than trade routes our natives won’t use, and it’s more efficient to use the sky roads because they’re naturally protected from the Deeps’ wildlife and already well-kept. The Rinali won’t pay for highways to be installed and policed, they expect that to come from our internal budget, and we don’t have the funds. I know how to talk fancy.”

“I wish you’d do so more often,” Brennadine said.

“Moving on,” Dad said. “What are the Irkatzi upset about this time?”

“This time,” I echoed, snickering. Dad cleared his throat. “Right. Um... the Rinali court upset them somehow, right? I know last year they were upset about tariffs, but we sided with them so it was okay. This year I want to say it’s about currency...yeah, some groups in the south of the territory are printing their own Irkatzi currency and the Crown Princess hasn’t stopped them yet.”

“There’s also the issue of the Rinali court itself.”

“Oh, right, right.”

“Rumor has it that Crown Princess Lilac intends to address the Queen directly about it,” Dad said. “That should be interesting.”

“Really?” Hope asked.

“She seems very angry. If nothing else, she’d certainly like an opportunity to complain in public and knock the Advisors away from their station. She’s loathed Lord fa Viandre since we were teenagers, and her comments were very... specific, this time around.” He cleared his throat. “Not that I would ever gossip about my fellow nobility.”

“Oh dear,” Hope said.

“Is that allowed?”

“What, my peer sending angry letters to me about the national government? She’s a Ravenhart, I don’t think anyone has the nerve to stop her. She lives up to the family reputation far more than Wisteria before her,” Dad said. “The more established noble families can get away with much more than we ever could.”

I drifted away from the conversation as Hope peppered Dad with more questions about the Irkatzi drama, pressing my face against the nearest porthole window and watching the land fly by beneath us.

We were out of Tsi territory by now, the heavy woods I was raised in giving way to open farmland, orchards, and low glades of trees. The Rinali heartland was rich and fertile, more so than almost anywhere else on the continent, but things didn’t grow as big here as they did back home. The tops of the trees petered out hundreds of feet below our ship, stunted to what everyone else insisted was normal size by the lack of aurza. Most of them barely reached twice the height of the grounded farmhouses scattered here and there.

The current capitol of Feilan, Eth Zantaara, was named for the huge and anomalous mountain the Queen’s castle sat upon. It was a recent creation, from only about ten years ago, so the city surrounding it was small and in various states of construction. Big noble mansions peppered the mountainside, sporting colorful flags and banners, and a chaotic cluster of homes and businesses crept out of the plains towards the mountain’s base. You could sort of see where the Queen’s architects had tried to enforce grid structure, but everything had been built so fast and aggressively that it hadn’t stuck in the slightest. Wide cobblestone roads led out of the area in a few different directions, fading off into the farmland still surrounding the city.

“You should have seen Lanorium back in the day,” Brennadine sighed, peering out her own window. “It puts this place to shame.”

“Hold on... Is that a tent?” Dad asked.

[alisayamin]

When You Hurt One Of Us (Sheith Secret Santa Fanfic)

Okay I think its been more than a year since I last posted a fanfic here but since my giftee is here so yeah! Here is my (VERY LATE IM SORRY) Sheith secret santa gift for Lucia-ik!!!! I hope you enjoy it dear~

Summary: There was a group of children at Hogwarts that never really fit in their houses. When these children bonded, they knew where they finally belonged, with each other. They were very protective of their small family. Very. Protective.

Notes: I’ve never read the Harry Potter series, only its fanfictions lol so I’M VERY VERY SORRY IF ITS NOT ACCURATE and I changed the school years a little. My version of Hogwarts enrolls students from age 11-20 because in my verse, they’re not encouraged to leave the school until they come into their magic which is roughly when a wizard is around 17-20 years old. 

O.W.L’s and N.E.W.T’s are taken at the same age as usual. Students who have taken their N.E.W.T’s and have come into their magic can graduate or they can stay the extra 2-3 years at Hogwarts that will help fully prepare them for the working universe. In this story:

Ravenclaw - Lance (16 - halfblood), Matt (18 - muggleborn) Hufflepuff - Hunk (16 - pureblood) Gryffindor - Shiro (18 - unknown), Allura (18 - pureblood) Slytherin - Pidge (15 - muggleborn), Keith (17 - unknown)

All aliens in VLD are just a different type of magical creature in this fic.

Read on AO3

Lance peeked his head out of the corner, “Okay, coast is clear.”

“Y’know Lance, maybe tonight we shouldn’t head to the kitchen?” Hunk suggested with his shoulders hunched and his forefingers touching in small rapid movements.

“Pfft what are you talking about? We’re almost there.”

True enough, just one more turn into an empty corridor and they were standing in front of the infamous painting of fruits. Lance tickled the pear and heard it giggle before a knob magically appeared in a shimmer of gold dust. He turned it with a smile and opened the door to the kitchens.

“Lance-“

The ravenclaw glanced back at his Hufflepuff friend, “Hunk, c’mon.” He took one step into the kitchen still muttering under his breath, “What’s gotten in to you toda- OH MY GOD"

The kitchen didn’t have any elves at the moment since no meals were necessary so late into the night and they were too busy cleaning up the castle probably. Pidge was sitting at their usual wooden table in the middle of the deserted kitchen, legs crossed as she leaned her chin on right hand. Her latest crossover tech (combining muggle technology with magic) was left idly on the table as the Slytherin was smiled at the very thing Lance was gaping at.

Shiro was ravishing Keith’s lips but that wasn’t the (only) reason Lance was so shocked. It was more because of the position those two were in.

Keith’s back was pinned against the solid wall, thighs being impossibly pressed against his chest as Shiro hoisted him up with just his bare hands on Keith’s supple butt cheeks, supporting all of Keith’s weight. Keith’s black dragonhide pants left nothing to the imagination as his knees were bent over Shiro’s shoulders, ankles crossed and urging Shiro closer.

There was something aesthetically pleasing about the pretzel knot position Keith was in but Lance would rather ask Allura to the Yule ball before he even dared to admit that to Keith. Still, he wondered how flexible Keith really was since he wasn’t completely human.

Shiro, the supposed golden boy of Gryffindor and head prefect, didn’t even pause kissing his boyfriend breathless when they both heard Lance’s exclamation. And to be honest, if Shiro did stop, Keith’s fingers that were lost in Shiro’s hair would probably pull him right back in.

When the noises started to get a little obscene and Shiro’s fingers couldn’t help but squeeze those cheeks in his hands, Lance called it off.

“Okay that’s enough. KEITH, unpretzel yourself right now! SHIRO, you were supposed to be patrolling with Matt!”

Shiro bit Keith’s bottom lip one more time when Keith started leaning his head back to part their kiss. They shared a loving stare, admiring the other’s disheveled appearance. Shiro’s hair was a mess from Keith’s grabby fingers and Keith’s neck was adorned with various marks. Both their lips were red and plump from a very satisfying snogging session. Just as an afterthought, Shiro leaned into his boyfriend’s neck and began slowly kissing each mark he made. Watching from over Shiro’s shoulder, Keith wanted to laugh at the look on Lance’s face.  He could tell the Ravenclaw was going to explode soon. Before Lance could physically pull them apart, Keith started stretching his legs out and did a semi split to untangle his limbs from Shiro’s shoulders.  

When Keith was on the ground again, Shiro wrapped his arms loosely around Keith’s hips and kissed him chastely on the lips before they were both staring at each other again, smiling.

Lance groaned out loud at their inability to part from each other and the wave of magic that was constantly present whenever Keith and Shiro were in the same room. He deadpanned at Hunk and Pidge’s adoring expressions, “You guys knew they would be like this didn’t you?”

Hunk shrugged, “I tried warning you. My cousin couldn’t stop for at least a month after she found hers.”

Pidge just sighed happily, “It’s their honeymoon phase~”

“It’s not a phase if they’re never gonna get out of it.” Lance grumbled. He sighed as he looked at his two friends. He was happy for them, really he was but they were getting ridiculous with the love-struck staring.

It took a little over 10 minutes before Lance was finally able to usher Shiro out of the kitchen. Hunk started making use of the elf-less kitchen to make some late night snacks while Lance urged Keith to do some poses with him to test his flexibility.

“I’ve honestly never seen anyone do that before.” Lance referred to what Keith just did with Shiro. Lance took off his robe and draped it over one of the chairs at the table, leaving his skinny pants and plain prussian blue shirt on, “Let’s see how flexible you really are. No one can match me back at home.” Lance smirked with crossed arms.

Taking it as a challenge (like they do with everything), Keith agreed and took his own robes off. Lance narrowed his eyes at Keith’s neck and decided to cast a quick spell, changing Keith’s emerald shirt to an emerald turtleneck instead to cover the marks.

Keith deadpanned, “Really?”

“Really.” Lance theoretically gestured to Pidge, “KEITH, THINK OF THE CHILDREN!”

Lance was zapped with a wordless and wandless spell by said ‘child’ for that comment. Soon, they were both on the mats that Lance helped transfigured from two plates. Lance started with some stretches to loosen himself.

Starting with an easy pose, Lance asked, “Did you even warm up before you decided to pretzel?”

“Yeah.” Keith answered distractedly as he copied Lance’s split stretch, “Shiro helped-“

Lance pushed a forefinger to Keith’s lips, “Never ever tell me what it is that you and Shiro do.”

Pausing from continuing her project, Pidge grimaced from where she sat at the table, “I get sore just looking at you two do all that.”

Currently, both Lance and Keith were supported by their chins and shoulders as their body bent forward till the tip of their toes touched the mat, right in front of their faces. Keith had a relaxed expression on his face. He usually was after being with Shiro. Lance was both intrigued and a bit put out that Keith could match him and was basically as flexible as he was.

“Remind me again why you’re here tonight?” Pidge said out loud as she continued tinkering with two small devices, “I thought our match tomorrow would make you hang out with the lions tonight.”

“Actually…” Lance easily untangled himself and sat up straight, “I want Gryffindor to lose. They’ve had the quidditch cup for too long.”

At hearing that, Pidge smirked, “Why Lance! I didn’t know you were such a cunning raven! Are you actually suggesting of assisting us serpents against the battle with the lions?“

Hunk suddenly showed up with a tray of… some kind of food, “Why am I not included in all this?”

“You don’t play quidditch, Hunk.”

“Neither do you!” he frowned at Pidge and set the tray down on the table just as Lance helped Keith to stand up.

Pidge was still smirking, saying, “Yeah but Keith does.” As though that answered everything. In a way it did because Pidge didn’t like losing so she would find ways to make her quidditch team win. Unfortunately, against Gryffindor with a keeper like Shiro, a chaser like Allura, along with formidable beaters, not even Slytherin’s prodigy seeker could best them. Despite Keith catching the golden snitch in every single game ever played, it was never good enough to win them the cup.

"Well I have a few plans”, Lance sat down in front of Pidge and took out a parchment and quill from his robe that was still draped on the chair he was sitting on, “Okay, listen up…”

When Lance was done, Keith nodded, “It’s perfect.”

Lance’s head whipped so hard, it even surprised Keith, “Wait, really?”

Keith frowned and gestured at the parchment Lance had written his strategic play on like it was obvious, “Duh.” He pointed to one of the Slytherin chasers Lance had drawn and started explaining why Lance’s plan would work. Enthusiastic that someone like Keith actually liked his plan, the two of them started exchanging more and more ideas.

Meanwhile, Pidge was studying Lance. His plan was practically fullproof. Why didn’t he become the strategist for his own team? At the moment, Lance was only a reserve chaser for Ravenclaw. Before Pidge could ask, she felt Hunk nudge her side. She turned to see Hunk slowly shake his head. Pidge crossed her arms. She knew a little about Lance being ostracized for not being the right kind of Ravenclaw but how could anyone deny his plans? Heck, Pidge knew even Allura consulted him and that’s how they had been winning since three years ago.  

Pidge sat back in her chair and took a good look around her. Lost children, that’s what they were. Didn’t really fit in anywhere. Hunk was a Hufflepuff that was almost too Ravenclaw with all his vast knowledge for both potions and magical theory. Lance was a Ravenclaw that wasn’t book smart but street smart instead with the courage of a Gryffindor. Herself, a Slytherin attitude with a very Ravenclaw brain. And then Keith, a Slytherin that wasn’t liked by anyone from his own house despite his contributions in both quidditch and studies. She would say Keith was a Gryffindor if she didn’t know any better but despite Keith’s reckless bravery, he was as loyal as a Hufflepuff, as sharp-witted as a Ravenclaw and with a deep-sated understanding of self-preservation only a Slytherin could have. Keith’s decisions sometimes made him seem heartless when in fact his ideas were the most practical and logical ones. Arguments with Keith usually led him to drive others away.

However, watching Keith and Lance banter lightly about other possible plays with Hunk on the side trying to cool them down made Pidge smile. She was glad they had each other. The misfit always fits with other misfits. They weren’t like Allura, Matt and Shiro who basically embodied their houses. Still, she was thankful for them. Matt who always supported them, often discussing animatedly about possibly new spells and potions with Hunk and helping Pidge with her latest projects, Allura who admired Lance’s brilliant mind and never took him for granted, and Shiro… Shiro who was always coaxing Keith out, always teaching him new moves on the broomstick, always teasing him and caring for him more than an older sibling, more than a friend. Despite all the shit that their houses sometime put them through, Pidge was glad they were all together.

Everyone had a different magical signature. It fully matured when a wizard was fully harmonized with their magic. Since children and adolescents were still volatile in regards to their emotion, their magic would not fully mature until the age ranging from 17 to 20 years old.

Keith, unlike most children, did not have the liberty or the freedom of a normal childhood. As an orphan under the care of the Blade of Marmora, Keith had matured much earlier and was able to fully control his magic at only the age of 12. However, before that age, Keith’s magic was too volatile to be enrolled into Hogwarts with the other first year 11-year-old children, thus the Marmora and the headmaster agreed that they would wait for Keith’s magic to fully settle before he was allowed to learn magic at the institute. Keith was the only one to begin his first year at Hogwarts at the age of 12.

Shiro, like many others, came fully into his magic at 18. The day that he did, he felt an itch under his skin. He ignored it and went through his normal routine. At breakfast, he joined the little group sitting at the end of the Hufflepuff table. Despite the tables being assigned by houses, not many of the students followed unless it was the grand dinner at the start or at the end of the school year. Any other time, they would sit wherever with whomever they wanted to. The staff didn’t seem to mind and there were no rules for seating placements at the Grand Hall.

It was a day like any other but for Keith and Shiro himself, it was the day they found each other. Shiro had sat in front of Keith that day, not noticing Keith’s wide eyes when he felt Shiro’s magic. Reaching out, Keith’s magic curiously touched Shiro’s and then they both felt their magic pulsing happily, twirling around each other.

Shiro and Keith stared at each other in a different light. It was Keith who spoke first. There was just a soft trace of laughter in his voice as he said, “It’s you..”

There was a foreign fondness in Keith’s voice when he said those words, making all their friends turn to look at them in surprise. As a Slytherin, Keith was often quiet unless prompted to speak. That didn’t count the snide remarks and petty fights he often had with Lance though. Still, even Pidge, Keith’s first friend and housemate, had never heard nor seen Keith exhibit such a soft voice and expression.

Shiro reached his hand over the table and entwined his fingers with Keith’s. His fingers squeezed and massaged Keith’s hand intermittently with gentle circular motions, both of them slowly smiling and just…letting their magic do the work. Allura was the first to gasp when she noticed their magical aura combining. She was the only one with such a gift for the past 5 generations of her family and what a gift it was, to witness Keith and Shiro’s aura wrapping around each other until they formed a new colour completely.

Pidge and Lance had stared at the entwined hands before they both shouted, “NO WAY” and just like that, the whole group was celebrating for their two friends.

The magical combination of compatible auras were in some way, similar to what the muggles often coined as ‘soulmates’.

At age 18, Shiro knew exactly who he would be spending the rest of his life with.

Shiro took his place as keeper and kept a vigilant lookout for the Slytherins throwing around the quaffle.

“Come here often, sir?” he heard a teasing voice from somewhere above him.

Shiro was already smiling before his eyes tracked down the opposing player in green. Keith was just lounging on his broomstick somewhere above the goal rings, that pretentious brat. Honestly, if Keith wasn’t such a good seeker, Shiro would have said that insult out loud.

“Shouldn’t you be patrolling for that little snitch?” Shiro teased back.

Keith rolled his eyes, “Does it matter if I go look for it now rather than later when it actually shows up?”

No it didn’t. In fact, rumours were that Keith was almost in tuned with the golden snitch. Matt and Pidge were the ones who offered the theory that Keith could actually hear the frequency of the golden snitch’s tiny wings due to his partial galra heritage and the only thing that would stop Keith from catching the small thing was if they were forced to wear noise-cancelling headphones during quidditch, which was never.

“AND THERE THEY GO!” Coran’s booming voice resounded throughout the pitch. Truly, there couldn’t be any other that suited as the commentator.

“Swift pass from red number 7 ther-! OH! STOLEN BY GREEN 19!!!”

Shiro braced himself as the Slytherin players approached. He was used to stopping their throws but at the final stretch before the ‘scoring area’ where only one chaser was allowed, the two Slytherin players initiated a very effective feint move involving a short throw-and-catch play, fooling Shiro easily before they scored the first goal of the game.

The crowds reacted in a mixture of awe, cheers, and disappointed grumbling.

The game continued with a change of momentum from all other previous Gryffindor-Slytherin matches. The Slytherin beaters seemed to know exactly when and where to time their hits, aiming the bludgers swiftly to the Gryffindor chasers who were about to catch the quaffle.

“Watch out for those bludgers!” Coran warned just as Allura herself had to back out from catching the quaffle in order to avoid a powerful hit from the bludger.

The quaffle was yet again stolen by the Slytherin chasers and despite experiencing the feint before, Shiro fell for it again, letting Slytherin gain 10 more points.

He could hear Keith’s muffled laughter from above him. There was something going on. A new play- Shiro looked up to Keith again and he knew what that mocking smile meant. They had the game all figured out.

After the next consecutive five goals, Keith called out, “Can’t keep up, old man?”

Shiro gripped his broomstick so hard he thought he could hear the wood start to crack. That brat was infuriating. Shiro adored him.

Too bad for the Slytherins that Shiro was quick to adapt after seeing the play again and again. They next feint was countered with Shiro’s own feint, effectively allowing him to block the quaffle from being thrown into one of the hoops.

Even Coran cheered for the Gryffindor keeper who finally managed to overcome Slytherin’s newest play.

Shiro smiled up at Keith, “What was that part again? Old man?”

Keith simply smiled back, posture stiff and threatening, “Just you wait.”

With Shiro’s save lifting everyone’s morale, Gryffindor finally had the strength to initiate counterattack.

Pidge adjusted her glasses from where she was sitting at the Ravenclaw tower stand. Since Matt and Lance were the majority (in term of house), Pidge and Hunk decided to join them instead of choosing to sit at other houses. Besides, the Ravenclaws were pretty much neutral since not many of them cared much for quidditch matches not involving their team, except Lance.

Whom by the way, was grumbling because of course Shiro could overcome his play after just 7 goals.

Matt just shrugged, “It’s Shiro. He practically raised all of you in quidditch. Can’t blame him for being able to overcome that. But it really was a good play. I’ve seen other teams try to perfect that but they never could because of the scoring area rule.”

“Thanks.” Lance smiled sincerely, “That’s the thing though. Number 19 and 20 from Slytherin, they.. Keith said they followed the rule book to a T. Obsessively. So I figured, if anyone could pull a feint before that line, it’d be those two. ‘Cuz they’d rather lose the game before breaking the rules.”

Hunk was happily looking through Matt’s self-made binoculars, “I think Keith just challenged Shiro or something. They got that weird ‘I’m-gonna-bring-you-down’ look they always make during practice.”

Pidge snorted, “Of course they would. After all…” She smirked up in Keith’s direction, “This isn’t over yet.”

Matt leaned towards his sister, “Careful Pidge, your Slytherin is showing~”

Gryffindor managed to score three times before something changed again. Keith mounted his broom properly before flying in front of Shiro to give him a mock two-finger salute, “Try to keep up, old man.”

Shiro was not at all expecting Keith to suddenly kick into overdrive as he dove straight into the game. At first, it seemed as though he was just flying in swift circles around the players. Keith moved so fast, Shiro saw him only as a green object. It looked as though Keith was chasing the golden snitch amidst the players. But even the Gryffindor seeker was looking incredulously at Keith, so that meant that the snitch was still not spotted yet. Again, Keith’s flying seemed harmless to Shiro. Except… it wasn’t.

“OH IT SLIPPED AGAIN!” Coran shouted with a little exasperation, “Perhaps the quaffle is a little slippery…” he muttered as an afterthought.

Shiro watched closer and then realization dawned on him. He only noticed after hearing Coran’s comment. Allura always caught the quaffle perfectly during practice but ever since Keith started circulating the pitch, Allura and the other two chasers failed to properly secure the quaffle in their hold, three out of five times losing it to the Slytherin chasers.

Finally, Shiro understood.

It was just a subtle thing that Keith was doing but it worked. Merlin, it was genius. Shiro let out a chuckle. He hadn’t ever seen this kind of play before, only heard of it.

Misdirection was a funny thing.  And Keith, the swiftest flyer Hogwarts had ever seen in the past 50 years was definitely capable of initiating this play. He was fast enough to distract the chasers for a split second and was skillful enough to navigate, pause, break and turn his broom at will.

Heck that little green brat even affected Shiro at the goal post. All it took was a distraction close enough in Shiro’s eyesight and suddenly, he was fooled by the feint he had just learned to overcome earlier. When Slytherin scored again, Shiro could hear Keith’s laughter. And he couldn’t help but laugh along. Even though Shiro had never lost to Slytherin before, he felt as though he wouldn’t mind losing this game. The play was too good.

When he caught Keith’s attention, Shiro smiled in defeat while shaking his head slowly. And Keith, the mature brat that he was, gave Shiro his cheekiest grin.

Lance and Hunk were the only ones standing in the tower stand as they cheered for Keith. It was old news that their group rarely supported the housing system, just each other. Lance got a glare from Allura when she heard Lance cheering for her current enemy.

“Whoops.” Lance grimaced before he shouted in Allura’s direction, “YOU’RE STILL THE ONLY ONE FOR ME, ALLURA!” and then he added as a whisper, “…even if you lose this game, haha.”

Pidge was smiling at her fellow housemates. They didn’t even practice this play. It was just explained earlier in the changing room and yet they were pulling it off as though they’d been practicing it for months. Even she couldn’t escape from cheering for them every time they scored. She was surprised Matt wasn’t laughing at Shiro or something.

When she turned to her brother, she noticed him scowling.

“Matt? What’s wrong?”

“Katie…” he started without looking away from where he was scowling, “Remember those lions that I told you about? The ones who accused Keith of manipulating Shiro’s magic to bond with Keith’s?”

Pidge started frowning. Those prats were the worst kind of people. Prejudiced and so insistent on taking the house traits seriously. They never liked Shiro befriending Keith or herself but it got worse when they found out Shiro and Keith’s magic had officially bonded.

“’Course I do. Why?”

Matt finally looked at his sister, all seriousness in his eyes, “They just left their stand. And they’ve been glaring at Keith throughout the whole game.”  

Keith loved flying. He never enjoyed quidditch much. Most of his love for the sport was an extension of Shiro’s own feelings. The game was so strange to Keith but who was he to judge that? Still, flying was Keith’s favourite pastime and only hobby. He almost hugged Kolivan when the Marmora presented him his first own broomstick. It meant a lot when Keith knew that the Marmora themselves weren’t big on ‘gifts’. He was able to train with Shiro much better after that. The school broomsticks didn’t move quite as smoothly as the latest ones that had a more aerodynamic design.

As Keith once more distracted Shiro from blocking the goal hoops, he heard the familiar fluttering of the golden snitch. He couldn’t see it yet but it was definitely released already. Keith smirked. As long as the Gryffindor seeker didn’t spot it yet, they could prolong the game for as long as it was necessary to keep the quidditch cup out of Gryffindor hands. If Keith could just… get them more than 300 points ahead, it should be enough. Besides, if they could repeat the current strategy against the other houses, they were a shoo-in to win the cup.

He kept distracting the chasers and Shiro all the while keeping an eye on the Gryffindor seeker. After Slytherin scored 3 more times and Gryffindor scored once, the red seeker finally spotted the golden snitch.

With an easy-looking maneuver, Keith swiftly flew towards that annoying fluttering sound. It would only be about a 250-point lead but that was better than what they originally expected. Without Lance’s play, Gryffindor would have won whether or not Keith caught the snitch. He was so gonna get those stupid (yet really expensive) ingredients Lance always wanted to create the perfect face mask or whatever it was that he used before bed time. It was a tradition he learned from the muggle world. Keith never knew why some wizards hated the muggles. Those people built buildings with their bare hands (indirectly but still using their hands nonetheless to create those…. ‘machines’ Pidge called them) and created weapons to fight for them. Muggles were impressive.

Getting his head back in the game, Keith had already outflow the Gryffindor seeker and he could finally see the fluttering golden snitch.

Keith reached his hand out. He could feel the cool golden metal despite his thick gloves as his fingers wrapped around the snitch.

“Gotcha” he whispered to himself.

All of a sudden, Keith’s outstretched arm exploded in sharp pain. Keith let out a hoarse scream as he felt himself swerve to the left from the massive impact. He was disoriented from the pain for a few seconds before he managed to balance his broom again.

His right arm was broken and was resting at a very odd angle.

Keith gritted his teeth. Then, the shouting started. Keith looked up to see more than a dozen bludgers moving all over the pitch. The students were screaming as some bludgers went through the tower stands and others were trying futilely to stop the rogue bludgers with ‘finite incantatem’ spells. The beaters from both teams were shouting for their teammates to dismount as they deflected what they could with their bats.

But four beaters couldn’t honestly battle more than 12 rogue bludgers.

Despite the pain in his arm, Keith flew. He was their fastest flyer, he had to help. Before three bludgers could hit Allura, Keith swiftly tackled her and practically pushed her with her broom towards one of the exits.

“KEITH!”  

“GET OUT OF HERE!”

Allura’s eyes were wide with fear when she saw his arm, “Y-Your arm-“

“ARGH!” a loud cry from the pitch broke off Allura’s sentence.

Keith’s head snapped at that sound. He knew that voice.

Turning away from Allura, Keith quickly flew towards Shiro. One of the bludgers had hit Shiro’s broom, breaking it into two.

On any other occasion, Keith would have enjoyed the exhilarating wind against his face. But at that moment, all he wanted was to go fast enough to catch Shiro.

“SHIRO!!”

Keith didn’t even care that one of his arm was broken. He reached out his uninjured arm and-… “GOTCHA!” Keith gripped Shiro’s arm and let them descend towards the ground.

Shiro’s momentum from falling off his own broom pulled them quickly towards the pitch but it was at a speed that they would survive from. Around 10 of the rogue bludgers were finally tamed by the professors by then. Unfortunately, Keith was not so lucky.

Just a few feet more from reaching the ground, Shiro saw it coming from his left. In that split second, he could tell by the speed they were moving that it would hit Keith. He could only look up at his bondmate, pure fear in his eyes when he shouted, “KEITH LOOK OUT!”

It hit Keith on the side. And in that short amount of time, Keith knew to let Shiro go so that he wouldn’t be dragged along for the ride. Shiro fell the last few feet and landed on his back with the wind knocked out of his breath. But he couldn’t care less about the trauma as he immediately sat up to look for Keith.

The hit from the bludger made Keith lose control of his broom, causing him to land roughly onto the pitch, breaking his broomstick and other parts of his body as well. It wasn’t just his arm in a weird angle this time.

The final bludger was tamed. The teachers were running towards the pitch. Pidge, Lance, Hunk and Matt were running down the stairs of the tower stand. And Shiro was running towards Keith. At first, there was no sound. And Shiro felt dread fill him. But he could still feel their bond. Keith was still alive. Shiro begged that Keith was just unconscious. That’s why he was so quiet.

But suddenly, Keith screamed.

It was a long cry of strangled pain, over and over again.  

It was a sound that Shiro would never forget.

It was a few hours before they could finally see Keith and Shiro at the hospital wing. Shiro was admitted overnight as a precaution for the trauma from his fall. And Keith was admitted, obviously, for his multiple injuries, not limited to broken bones and crushed organs.

“Hey guys.” Pidge was the first to approach the only occupied beds, Lance and Hunk close behind her.

Shiro was out of his bed, opting to sit on the chair beside Keith’s bed instead. His hand was tenderly gentling Keith’s uninjured left hand.

“Hey.” Keith croaked weakly at his housemate.  

Pidge quickly jumped to sit on Keith’s other side, carefully avoiding his arm. She smiled softly at Keith, “You look like shit dude.”

Keith snorted.

He did look like shit. His whole torso, right arm, pelvic region and left leg were completely wrapped in bandages. They had to save his crushed organs first from the second bludger hit. That took more than two hours. The rest of the time was used to setting his bones again before administering the skele-gro potion to allow the bones to reconnect properly.

Lance and Hunk hovered at the foot of Keith’s bed. Hunk raised a small pouch and dangled it, “Made your fav cookies! Shay helped pack’em. This pouch is much bigger on the inside than on the outside, fyi. And I made around 5 batches. Coated them all individually with that white chocolate Klaizap sent to you, it was on your bed I hope you don’t mind. Of course, I had to melt them first before I could coat the cookies and then leave them on the drying tray, I mean, THAT was how long we had to wait to see you.”

Keith gave a weak laugh. Only Hunk would stress-bake 200 cookies for him and nervously rant about it, “Thanks Hunk..”

Lance hid his sadness at seeing Keith sprawled on the hospital bed by pretending everything was fine, “Dude. You were awesome. If it wasn’t because you were practically fighting against your own quidditch mentor here-“ he gestured his head towards Shiro, “-you would have easily scored that 300 lead.”

Shiro shook his head slowly with that same smile he gave Keith after the misdirection play, “That was the best play I’ve ever seen.” He turned to Lance, “Allura’s gonna be pissed you didn’t share it with her instead.”

Keith croaked out with a soft sneer, “Heh. Good luck with that.. Only someone as fast as me can run that play.”

Lance raised his hands exasperatedly, “Obviously he’s fine enough to compliment himself, ladies and gentlemen.”

They all laughed at that, all of them ignoring that rogue bludgers almost killed their friend. Ignoring that Keith could have died. Ignoring that they had all heard Keith’s pure unadulterated screams on that pitch. Ignorance was bliss. They could share this small moment, just making Keith smile.

After a few minutes, they all heard a woman clear her throat.  

Lance was the one who pouted at the matron, “Just 5 more minutes please~? I promise we’ll go to dinner in just fiiiiiivvveee more minutes!”

The matron did not look happy at Lance, Pidge and Hunk. In the end, Shiro was the one who encouraged them to go get some dinner before everything vanished.

“Fine.” Pidge grumbled, “But we’re coming back tomorrow.”

Shiro chuckled, “We won’t stop you.”

Keith inclined his head towards his friends, “..see you guys tomorrow.”

“Bye mullet head.” Lance gave a small wave.

Hunk placed the pouch of cookies on Keith’s bedside, “Goodnight Keith.”

Pidge didn’t say anything from where she sat beside Keith. Instead, she just gently caressed the back of her fingers against his cheek. All she could think was that those people had hurt what was theirs. Pidge knew that none of them ‘belonged’ to their houses because their houses didn’t fully accept them, so alternately they belonged to each other. And those people had hurt their Keith. Then her eyes met Shiro’s in a silent reverent stare.

Shiro nodded and said, “Have fun.”

The matron quickly ushered the trio after that. She locked the hospital wing to avoid any more visitors. She approached Keith’s bed and gave Shiro a disapproving glare, “I would urge all patients to sleep on their own beds, Shirogane.”

“My magic helps him heal, madam.”

And it did. Their magic had bonded. Physical touch between bonded wizards helped to heal injuries by distributing their magical core.

The matron’s expression soften when Shiro reminded her of their bond, “Yes yes… That would help greatly. Nasty little thing that skele-gro potion.. They still haven’t made a pain reliever to go with it.”

“Thank you, madam.”

Excusing herself for the night, she left to stay in her office. It would be another 5 hours before Keith could take a pain reliever potion. Once her door closed, Shiro cast a muffliato charm surrounding Keith’s bed.

“It’s okay Keith…” He spoke softly, “It’s okay to let go now.”

Keith’s eyelids fluttered as he did as he was told. The coast was finally clear.

It started with little twitches in Keith’s left hand and feet. The tension of keeping his body locked up slowly eased. His breath quickened, matching the rapid rise and deflation of his chest. The twitches turned to full spasms followed by a wet sob. That was when the tears started flowing and the dam was broken.

Shiro watched as Keith dropped all his masks and cried out all the agonizing pain he was truly suffering. And all Shiro could do was return the grip Keith had on his hand.

“..it…” Keith hiccupped through an intense sob, “…hurts.. Taka-…shi…”

“I know.” Shiro cupped Keith’s face, locking their eyes together, “I need you to hold on, Keith. I’m right here, okay?”

Keith nodded, and weakly pulled Shiro’s hand. Shiro got the message before laughing, “This is not how I planned to get in your bed, Keith.”

In midst the endless tears and sobs, Keith let out a wet laugh, “Shut up-…and get in here..”

“Bossy.” But Shiro complied, making sure to avoid all of Keith’s injuries. He was somehow able to join Keith on the bed by sacrificing his arm as a pillow (the actual pillow used as a cushion for Keith’s side). Keith still held onto Shiro’s hand, taking deep breaths throughout the torment of his injuries. All the while, Shiro kissed his head, wiped his tears away and whispered comfort in his ear.

Their magic entwined and wrapped them both in a cocoon. Miraculously, even without a pain reliever potion, Keith eventually fell asleep in Shiro’s arms.

Pidge, Lance and Hunk never went to get dinner. They never planned to. There was too much anger thrumming under their skin. The moment they turned to the first corridor outside the hospital wing, they saw Matt and Kolivan talking. When the three of them approached, Matt and Kolivan turned towards them.

Kolivan looked into their eyes one by one. Whatever he was looking for, he found it. The leader of the Blade of Marmora inclined his head towards them, his own version of a tacit approval, before making a quiet exit out of the castle. He was present during Keith’s surgery that was conducted both by a blade healer and a healer from St Mungos. Keith’s mixture of anatomy was luckily not an issue with both of them present. The discrimination that Kolivan knew Keith suffered made him believe that the perpetrators would escape unscathed. But then Matt spoke to him and proved his words when Kolivan saw Pidge, Lance and Hunk. He saw a similar look in Shiro’s eyes earlier as well. If it wasn’t for Keith needing Shiro’s presence, Kolivan was certain Shiro would have dealt with ‘them’ on his own.

Once the Marmora leader was out of sight, Matt turned to his two friends and younger sister, “We have 6 hours. Allura, Shay, Luxia and Olia are dealing with our alibis. Nyma and Rolo are standing guard right now outside the… classroom.” Matt smirked, “Shiro’s joining us after he can finally give Keith a pain reliever potion.”

Lance tilted his head with a bored expression but his eyes reflected how eager he was to meet the people that dared to hurt his friends, “What are we still doing here then?”

Hunk lifted his hand as though to ask a question, “Um.. I have these potion recipes that my parents never allowed me to make because they said it had…questionable effects to its drinkers.”

There was an awkward pause of stunned silence where everyone just stared at the Hufflepuff before Hunk continued, “I… also know the antidote recipes..? So its not like.. y’know. A forever thing. I just wanna know what happens.”

Pidge huffed a small laugh, smiling at her brother, “I guess they’re lucky Shiro only gets an hour with them, huh?”

“You have no idea.” Matt shook his head slowly, still looking at Hunk with a bewildered expression, “But 5 hours with you guys should be interesting.”

Keith stirred and started feeling the pain all over his body again. The white hot pain was coming back and he didn’t want it anymore. He whimpered and shook his head. He didn’t want to wake up. He couldn’t- Not again, not again, please, pleas-

“Shhh Keith, it’s okay.” Shiro whispered softly, quieting his pleas. Keith didn’t even realize he was saying it out loud until Shiro spoke over him.

Keith heard a distant “I got it, Madam.” before he felt the bed dip beside his head and then Shiro was there pressing their lips together. Keith made a questioning noise but otherwise didn’t complain. He especially did not complain when he tasted the familiar liquid Shiro was forcing down his throat from their kiss. He could feel himself slowly floating on a cloud, the pain ebbing away into a dull ache that was barely noticeable.

His mind was finally calm and he could breathe easily again. Keith opened his eyes properly only to be greeted by Shiro’s blinding smile, “Better?”

Shiro had braced himself rather ingeniously, hovering the way he was over Keith’s recovering body without crushing him. Since Keith was able to think clearly, he contemplated silently before deciding to swat his boyfriend’s arm, “You just wanted to do that ‘medicine kiss’ with me didn’t you?”

Truthfully, he could have just helped Keith sit up to drink the potion. It’s not like Keith’s spine was injured or anything. Keith glared at Shiro until the Gryffindor gave him a sheepish look that was answer enough. A few weeks ago, sometime after their magic bonded, they had watched a ‘movie’ Lance had brought to Hogwarts and Pidge and Matt managed to build their own device that mixed a little muggle technology and few simple spells to display all the contents of the ‘CD’. The movie wasn’t that interesting but Keith remembered how obsessed Shiro was with the ‘intimate healing trope’ Hunk called it. Shiro was specifically interested in the ‘mouth-to-mouth medicine dosing’.

Keith chuckled when Shiro started pouting slightly. Keith wrapped his uninjured left hand around Shiro’s neck and pulled him down till their noses touched, “Kiss me properly already, old man.”

“Brat.” Shiro teased fondly before complying with the much needed kiss. What they didn’t say in words, they expressed with the urgency to be intimate. Keith breathed in their magic, so saturated around them after a whole night of sharing their magical core. Keith could feel traces of Shiro’s fear of losing him but he felt Shiro’s relief the most. They didn’t even hear the matron clearing her throat rather loudly. Unfortunately, their snogging session was short-lived when the pain reliever fully kicked in and Keith started slipping back into sleep.

Shiro parted their kiss and stroked Keith’s cheek gently, “Sleep, Keith.” he whispered quietly.

And Keith did.

A crack resounded in the previously abandoned classroom.

Matt turned to Shiro, surprised to see that his friend had apparated so easily. Shiro just shook his head at Matt’s questioning eyebrow lift, “That wasn’t me. Klaizap brought me here. Said I’d run into the headmaster if he didn’t take me here directly.”

“Of course that little guy would know where we are.” Then Matt let out an exaggerated relieved sigh, “PHEW! For a second there, I thought you learned to overcome the anti-apparition charm and anti-disapparition jinx before I did!”

“I’ll leave that to you and Pidge, thank you.” They both laughed before Shiro’s friendly demeanor suddenly took a sharp turn as he remembered how much his bondmate had suffered during and after the bludger incident. He was sure Pidge, Lance and Hunk were still having fun but their time was up. Shiro had a smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes when he asked Matt slowly, “My turn now to play with them, isn’t it?”

Author’s Note: I always believe there’s this line that people would cross when you push them to their limit, directly or indirectly. And when you mix that with magic, damn. Imagine the possibilities… I know I made it like it was off-screen torture or something but IMAGINE, the paladins are hardly dumb, and they have magic, imagine the amount of times you can hurt and heal, hurt and heal, make them forget, CHANGE them. I like how some hp ff emphasized on the greyness of magic, light and dark. Not all light-affiliated wizards are good and not all dark-affiliated wizards are bad. This fic isn’t really about this distinction but more on what magic could actually do and how it would affect morality.

The paladins and the accomplices (the girls I mentioned in passing) are exacting revenge because they CAN. If someone did what those teens did to one of your own, hurting them as much as Keith was hurt, and you had the ability to return the gesture without a trace and without leaving permanent damage, would you?

Anyway, I really enjoyed writing that, it’s been awhile since I wrote something like this… I hope you guys liked it. Maybe one day I’ll write a full fic with the whole 7 book shibang hahahah I love wandless wordless Pidge urgh I might continue just for her sake tbh

[darkdarkmydesire]

I really hope it wasn't (just an experiment)

Chapter 2:

"Alec, stop being an idiot. Open up, I know you're home.", came Isabel's voice, over the pounding knock. 

" How do you know that?", Alec replied with less vehemence.

"Alec, seriously?", she sighed exasperated."

 "It could be a very advanced answer machine.", Alec reasoned with  utmost seriousness.

"Alec!", Isabel screeched in fraustration, " I swear to God, I'll - ".

" Fine, fine, I'm coming.", he grumbled. 

Unfolding himself from the floor, he left his scattered textbooks on the coffee table. Still, Alec couldn't comprehend how Izzy found the prospect of such an answer machine unfathomable. Technology had advanced abundantly, it wasn't so far fetched that Alec should own such a device. 

Sighing he swung open the door, "Satisfied?", he questioned.

" Extremely.", chirped Isabel striding for his room, or knowing her, his closet. One that did not contain him any more. Snickering at his own joke, Alec followed Isabel only to be smacked with a pile of clothes in the face. 

"Wear these, we're leaving in half an hour.", she demanded.

" Izzy I can't, I have a test the day after tomorrow. I need to prepare.", Alec placated. Knowing that listening to Izzy only ever led to uncomfortable consequences, she was forever dragging him to torture chambers disguised as social events. They were unbearable, why anyone would decide to abandon privacy and indulge the curiosity of a stranger was beyond his understanding. Alec had an adequate amount of friends, he needed no more. 

"Exactly, day after tomorrow." , she stressed, "Don't even act like you haven't finished going over the material.", she cajoled, hands on hips. She did have point, but Alec was not going to give up so easily. Making his way to the bed, Alec flopped down on his back. 

" So what, Izzy? I still have other assignments and I could be spending the free time picking up extra hours at work. Hell I should take Max out, the kid needs a break from the continuous pressurizing mom and dad put him through. ", he said blowing out a harsh breath. All that he said was true, especially Max, although Alec did feel somewhat guilty using Max as an excuse. It felt like an extremely Marys Lightwood tactic.

Sighing, Izzy say on the edge of his bed, she could hear the steel determination in Alec's voice. " Alec, you need a break too. When was the last time you had any fun - for yourself?", she added cutting Alec off, as he began to open his mouth in objection. "Just because you're the oldest, doesn't mean you're our parent.", she spoke, voice tinged with sorrow, worry and a tinge of annoyance, as if wondering how many times she had to repeat the same sentiment.

Alec knew she was right theoretically, he was by no means their parent, but he also knew if either Izzy, or Max decided to pursue anything other than the family business, their parents would cut off all financial aid. Alec himself had learnt that the hard way, wanting to open a child psychologist firm. He had been working, since the age of sixteen to pay his way there - education included. That wasn't something he was willing to put his siblings through, he wanted to make sure they had a choice and the means to go through with it. So at the age of seventeen, Alec had opened accounts from them both, which he made sure increased each month, eradicating any financial boundaries for the future, even if the numbers inched up at an agonisingly sluggish pace. 

However, Alec also knew Isabel would keep worrying and complaining, if the prominent note if exasperation in her tone was any indication. Seeing as he was in no mood to stand at the receiving end of that hurricane, Alec relented. He would just slip away, when her attention was elsewhere, Isabel had just clarified Alec had to attend, staying at the location had not been mentioned once yhere. Sitting up, he kissed her forehead, " Just this once then. Where are we going?", he asked, but upon seeing Isabel's answering smirk, Alec wondered if what he had agreed to would allow his dignity and temperament to survive the miniscule minutes he intended to stay. "Clubbing.", she grinned, ignoring Alec's groan. " Come on, we're going to be late.".

<p>-------------------------------+</p>

Striding into Pandemonium, Alec was hit with pulsating music, strobed lights and sweaty bodies. The place assaulted his senses, everything was over the top, though surprisingly, Alec wasn't deterred. It held a dangerous enticement to it, with silhouettes in the dark highlighting a sharp cheekbone, a flash of midriff, a suggestive grin. 

Tonight Alec fit right in, with his fitted moss green, long sleeved shirt that hugged his muscles and brought out the flecks of green in his otherwise hazel eyes. The round neckline sitting just below his pale collar bones. His black, ripped jeans sat low on his hips, tight enough to stick in all the right places. True to his word Alex had made an effort by lining his eyes with kohl and underlining them with green liner, making them pop. And as the group made their way to Simon, Raphael and Magnus, he turned more than a few heads. He was a dark, aloof Adonis and all thoughts of escape plans fled his mind.

Alec's eyes latched on to Magnus, his gaze flitting over him. Magnus wore a thin, violet tank top, that shimmered and slid over his body like liquid night each time he moved, leaving his defined shoulders on display. If Alec had known Magnus would come, he would have declined, no matter what Isabel said. It was one thing to stare at Magnus in class where there were teachers and peers and distinctive boundaries. And quiet another to stare in a club made purely for sexualized interactions. Besides Alec had not forgotten the words Magnus had wielded against him, whilst unknowingly, Alec's wound still throbbed. His black, leather pants looked suffocatingly tight as they stuck to his form and Alec couldn't help but wonder how it would feel to peel them off, slowly. Each factor of Magnus's appearance scraped against Alec's laceration, scraping it raw, severing his nerves until all he felt was a disquieted silence the shape of Magnus's spiked purple hair. The colour of Magnus's superficial glint of his glitter. Alec was nothing more than the tilt of Magnus's eyes, the swipe of daintily applied kohl, the swirl twisting down lower from the corner of his right eye. Dipping and flaring into an intricate pattern that framed his cheekbone. Alec was speckled in the dusted with gold glitter on Magnus's lashes, mirrored in the glimmering tips of the markings, which set his amber eyes aflame. As if a smouldering fire flickered in those irises, as if it was Alec scorching in the depths of their flame. Lips glossed a delicious, sparkling bubblegum. Magnus was the picture of sin, addiction and inexorable self destruction.

Alec finished admiring him and knew his self awareness, self preservation had dissolved into grains of what it had been before. Looking up, he saw Magnus returning the favour, converting into the kinetic energy, which blew away the ashes of who Alec had been outside the confines of this moment. Outside this club, outside of Magnus's unabashed gaze, which flowed from rim of his glass: once, twice. His eyes snagged below Alec's waistband, electrocuting. Any remains of Alec's nerves sizzled and went out with a hiss. Magnus devoured Alec with a lustful gaze.

Sure he was at the brink of combustion, Alec spoke, "Hey. You guys look great.", however for all Alec knew, Simon and Raphael could be wearing spandex suits - his eyes still hadn't left Magnus.

" Oh thanks, I was actually worried I was too plainly dressed, but made it. Huh?", replied Simon pushing up his glasses, blind to the thread that tethered Alec and Magnus to each other. 

Alec hummed distractedly in response, hooking his thumbs through his belt loops, unaware of Izzy's knowing smirk and Jace's deep frown. Magnus's eyes tracked the movement, as he took a deep gulp of his drink, leaning further into the bar.

"You're fine Samuel", Magnus drawled purposefully misnaming Simon, much to the other boy's chagrin. He tore his eyes away from Alec giving Isabel his attention, " You, however darling, outshine them all.", he compliment running a platonic gaze over Isabel's form.

She had on a grey, plunging neckline dress, that accentuated her curves and hollows, ending mid - thigh. " Even Alec?", she retorted with a teasing grin. She knew with the utmost conviction that the question would label the two men's admiring gazes and bring Magnus on uneven footing.

"Well...", Magnus hesitated, the corner of his mouth curling up.

" Don't worry,I know you don't want to hurt Alec's feelings. I won't make you choose. ", she commented wryly, when Magnus showed no intention of finishing the sentence any time soon. Winking, Isabel spun away, "I'm going to go find some fun.", she called over her shoulder, already disappearing into the crowd.

" Us too.", Jace said turning Clary with an arm around the waist, " Try not to have too much fun, Alec. ", crowed Jace, but the tightened skin around his eyes gave away his reluctance to leave Alec. The two communicated without uttering a word, in the way only those who have grown, bled and found themselves together can. Finally relenting, Jace slipped away. The concern of his sat heavily on Alec's shoulders.

Raphael and Simon had too vanished sometime ago, leaving Magnus and Alec alone. The lack of ability to recall at exactly when they had left,  depicted the profundity of Alec's infatuation. 

" Drink?", Magnus asked slipping closer to the bar, therefore Alec.

"Two tequila shots, please.", ordered Alec in lieu of an answer, causing Magnus's brows to shoot up

"I'm cutting lose.", he shrugged indifferent, before downing the drinks.<br /> The alcohol burned going down, settling into a pleasurable weight in his stomach and sending a searing buzz through his body. Any sensation of caution, or wariness had truly been purged from Alec. 

" You never used to drink.", commented Magnus casually, nursing his own concoction. He looked curious, at ease with allusion to the inexplicable before. I never used be disowned, weary and alone either thought Alec.

"People change.", he declared instead, looking over at Magnus with a sly grin. Alec was done with caution. This would surely end in explosions, but as long as Alec was the only casualty, he couldn't bring himself to care. Sobering, he added, " Just once in a while. I seem to have grown out of my righteous aversion to alcohol.". It was an honest answer, perhaps the only truly honest thing he had said.

Chuckling, Magnus finished his own drink. He held out a hand with a crooked smile, "Let's go dance.", he said. No preamble, no: let's talk of those years of solitude. Magnus just offered an outstretched palm across the chasm that was them.

It was the way Alec wanted it, he wanted the bridge without the weights they undoubtedly were to carry in the wake of excuses and apologies. With a small smile, Alec placed his hand in Magnus's and let him gently tug Alec into the fray of bodies. 

At first Alec was self conscious, aware of each movement he made, but as the minutes flowed together he gave himself to the music. Truly letting go. He moved as if the rhythm made love to him, his limbs became an extension of the beat: body swaying, hips twisting, his arms flowed languidly, slipping from one tune to the next - seamlessly. He couldn't remember how long he had been dancing, packed in here he was just another body, another consciousness. He was not Alec, son of Robert and Marys Lightwood, brother of Isabel and Max Lightwood, best friend of Jace Wayland, employee of Luke Garrison, student of Wyoming college. He was simply a man, one of many. Semantics and calculations and contingency plans floated away lost to the beat...

Alec moved with the sole purpose of simply being.

He had gathered the attention of many, dancing like this moment was what he had been working towards his whole life. Magnus inched infinitesimally closer, as he had been all night, but Alec didn't care for them, because in this moment he was wholly Magnus's and Magnus was wholly his. Touching Alec's arm Magnus closed the gap further, as Alec's eyes snapped open and he looked down with a mischievous grin.

He took in the shorter man's flushed face and damp hair, lips parted, as he breathed with exertion. Knowing he looked no better, he reached up brushing his fingers through his hair, ruffling it in the process giving himself a rakish look. Unable to resist, Magnus curled his fingers around Alec's wrist, lowering his arm back down.

Alec continued swaying, as Magnus brushed the sensitive skin on his inner wrist, skimming up his forearm, over his biceps and spreading his palms across his shoulders, before reaching to link his hands on the nape of Alec's neck. It was happening, Alec had loosened his control and it was happening. What this ominous it was, he didn't know. He didn't care. Alec's hands fell to Magnus's waist, tightening, as Magnus traced shapes on his skin, causing a shiver to ripple down Alec's spine. Whatever destruction was to preceded these chain of events, Alec would endure it all gladly, repeatedly, if only to feel the touch Magnus bestowed upon him now.

Continuing his teasing, Magnus traced the shell of Alec's ear, thumb grazing below his jaw. Alec smiled coquettishly, hooking his fingers in the loop if Magnus's jeans and tugged, crashing their hips together. Eliciting a throaty moan from Magnus. Yes, this was what he wanted. Magnus peered up through his lashes, giving a sultry smile in return as he began grinding against Alec. The taller man's eyes shuttered, his breath hitching, as lust crowded his senses. Still his severed nerves gave no sign of healing, Alec couldn't care for tomorrows and afters and latter consequences.

Not wasting another moment, he jerked back, dragging Magnus to a shadowy corner, he didn't wait to reach there as he slammed his lips against Magnus's. Magnus hit the wall with a muffled sound, his fingers burying themselves in Alec's hair and he kissed back just as fervently. Whatever resemblance of control they possessed had vanished, as Alec pushed closer trapping Magnus against the wall. His leg slipped between Magnus's and he pushed up against his crotch. Meanwhile, Magnus's right hand squeezed Alec's jean clad behind, his left scratched at Alec's scalp, while Magnus's tongue coaxed deep throated noises from him.

Their hands were a flurry of action - greedy - as they pinched and pulled, working faster, wanting more, more, more. Magnus bit Alec's lip, hard, earning a whimper from the taller boy, as he tasted blood. Sucking Alec's lip into his own mouth, Magnus looked into his eyes, framing his face with jewelled fingers.

Alec's pupils were wide and diluted, his breathing strained, "Fuck, Magnus I - ", he swallowed, as Magnus nipped the corner of his lip, the skin under his lobe, before continuing down his neck.

" You what?", Magnus asked huskily, biting especially hard at the hollow if his collar bone, earning a sharp gasp from Alec. He licked and sucked the same spot, causing Alec's grip to increase in pressure under the hem of Magnus's, hard enough to leave bruises.

"I...I want - ", he panted.

" Yes?", Magnus crooned, biting, licking and sucking the sensitive spot between Alec's shoulder and neck. "Say it, love.", he purred against Alec's skin.

Straightening, Alec pulled Magnus close until there was no question of what he wanted, putting his lips level with Magnus's ear, he growled, " You, I want to fuck you. Want you to fuck me so hard, until I'm sweating and swearing underneath you.". 

His finger slipped under Magnus's jeans meeting bare skin. Clentching his eyes shut, the realisation that Magnus was wearing nothing made Alec want to damn the consequences and let Magnus take him right here, not caring who saw. Magnus, becoming aware of the effect he was having on Alec, traced over Alec's front, before palming his jeans roughly.

"My place.", he demanded, hardening at Alec's conspicuous desperation.

Grabbing his hand, he yanked Alec out of the club, making him stumble after Magnus. The action in direct juxtaposition to how the night started. There was nothing gentle about him now.

<p>-------------------------------+</p>

In the cab, they sat on opposing ends, the air thick with sexual tension, but the crisp night air had dampened their frenzy, allowing doubts to creep into Alec's mind. The haze of the club retreated as Alec sat in the cab, aware of very real consequences. Though each line if thought ending with the same conclusion, even if I break from this, I can't stay broken forever. That was impossible, he had moved on before, he had picked up the pieces that were Alec and moved on. When Magnus left, when his parents had forsakenhim. He had taken the pieces of himself, piling them in an anvil and forged a sturdier Alec. He pressed his forehead to the cool glass, until goosebumps prickled his arm from the cool sensation. He knew they should talk about this, clarify, or name whatever this was, but for once, Alec raised banners of war against what he should do. For the first time in his life, he didn't care that he had spent more time with his tongue down someone's throat than speaking with them. For once he wanted to blow caution to the wind. All he could think about was Magnus's hand on his skin, breath on his face, moans in his ear, perhaps Magnus didn't feel the same. Perhaps he was waiting for Alec to bring up the subject. Sighing at ghis inability to even unknowingly cause Magnus affliction, he twisted around, opening his mouth and closing it. Reaching back to rub his neck, he cleared his throat, "So... should we talk?", he asked, wincing at his vexatious query.

<p>-------------------------------+</p>

Watching the street blur by, Magnus kept relaying the feel of Alec pressed up against him, his mind supplyinhpg a sludeshow of how he wanted Alec to co e undone under the tips of this fingers, the touch of hus tongue. Shutting out the world, Magnus begged his eyes to remain on his side of the cab, knowing he'd be unable too constrict himself otherwise. Be that as it may, Magnus's eyes had other ideas. They flicked across Alec's frame, illuminated by the passing street lamps. Magnus took in his broad back, tense and heaving slightly, Magnus couldny help but feel smug. He had been the cause of that. Alec was sitting facing the window, breath fogging the glass.

Magnus had wanted Alec the day he had laid eyes on him in class, head tilted backwards, leaving his pale neck on display. He had wanted to take Alec on the very desk he sat at, prying out scream after scream of pleasure. He didn't care about how he was supposed to do this. He was attracted to this hazel eyed, black haired, pale skinned man. This man who was built like a Greek sculpture with his angled jaw and high cheekbones and muscled body. He had wanted him. He still wanted him.

He didn't care about what they had before, it had meant something once, despite his early deterrence to the subject. Magnus had no idea why he had so callously replied at the lunch table, but right now, those emotion had no play in his actions. Alec was a stunning man and Magnus was going to enjoy him.

So, when Alec asked him if they should talk, he answered truthfully: "You're attracted to me, I'm attracted to and we're going to act on that attraction. What's there to talk about?"

<p>-------------------------------+</p>

Upon arriving at Magnus's apartment, Alec looked around, taking in a cream coloured carpet that gave way to a wood panelled kitchen. The living room was spacious and lined with a bookshelf along the whole left wall, the spines of various covers gleaming in the light. On upon a time that is what Alec would have wanted too, a collection of lexis that descibed and seduced him. Now he had to consider factor such as money and budget. There was two sleek sofas sitting in the centre, maroon with black seams. The whole back wall was glass, looking out over houses, an armchair was facing the view with a book perched on the arm rest. The apartment was classy, but comfortable. It was all very Magnus. At least what he had remembered of Magnus, the glimpse into the room felt like an admonishon, an almost confession that Magnus had not changed to the core, merely grown into a fuller version of himself. 

Alec didn't get a chance to further examine the place, as Magnus's hand snaked under his shirt and he tilted his head to whisper into Alec's neck, "Now where were we?".

Alec brushed his knuckles in answer, before firmly pulling him towards the door he assumed was the bedroom. Whoever Magnus was had no leverage in his current actions. Guessing right, he closed the door clumsily, as Magnus whirled him around, backing him against the door and attaching his lips to Alec's. The kiss was heated and wild, no preamble, as they clashed against each other again and again. 

Magnus's tongue stroked Alec's lips, before prying them apart, the first brush of their tongues sent a jolt of pleasure through Alec. Magnus doubled his efforts, sweeping his tongue over the roof of Alec's mouth. It was as if Magnus had doused Alec's body in kerosene and struck a match igniting a dormamt animalistic hunger. Alec reached out, intending to touch Magnus, pull him closer, however he found his wrists pinned above his head, while Magnus's other hand jerked open th buttons on Alec's shirt. He began mouthing Alec's neck, licking down his chest, as he brushed a palm over his nipples.

" F - fuck.", Alec breathed gulping down air faster, as Magnus carried on licking lower reaching the dip in Alec's abdomen. 

Not missing a beat, he flicked open the button of Alec's pants, before pulling them down. Hands skimming over Alec's butt, he pinched the tender flesh, earning a yelp from Alec.

"Sorry love, couldn't resist.", chuckled Magnus, as he skimmed over his thighs, calf's and up again, before cupping the base of Alec.

Capturing his gaze, Magnus licked the tip of him, flicking it, as he took him in. Alec's hands curled in the other man's hair. He watched Magnus's head bob, never wrenching his eyes away.

" Fuck Magnus. Shit. Th - that feels - .", he groaned panting.<br /> "Did I tell you Alexander, his much I love hearing filthy utterances tumble from your lips?", Magnus spoke around Alec, " Delicious.", he moaned huskily, knowing Alec could feel his words vibrating through him. Alec was unsure if he meant how Alec cursed again, or how Alec tasted. Alec was too immersed in pleasure to apply the appropriate amount of fastidious scrutiny it would take to decode the words.

Shuddering Alec gripped Magnus's scalp harder, " Fuck.", he gritted out, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.".

Magnus only laughed at the younger man's response, " Yes.", he urged, "Just like that.".

Smirking he watched as Alec struggled with the jolts of pleasure his words evoked, before pulling off and sauntering to lay suggestively on the bed. Alec pressed the heel of his hands into his eyes, if he was any less lust riddled, he would have been embarrassed, but desire made him immune. After gathering himself, Alec pushed off the wall, stalking towards Magnus and began to return the favour. He kissed his way up Magnus's thighs, over his hip bone, across his stomach, teasing his way around, procuring his revenge.

He bit and nipped at the others skin, causing Magnus to twist the sheets tighter with each passing second.

" Alexander.", he gasped.

"Yes?", inquired Alec innocently, echoing Magnus's earlier taunts.

" Please", he ground out, through glazed eyes.

The word snapped any resolve Alec had to continue his torture, as he took in Magnus's disheveled form. Bare chest heaving, heavy lidded eyes, legs splayed, as he gripped the sheet, white knuckled. Surging forward Alec roughly swallowed him in, jerking fast causing Magnus to cry out, as he hollowed out his cheeks and sucked.

The desire was a palpable force in the air.  

"Stop ", Magnus gulped out, "I want to finish inside of you.".

He pushed Alec off and on his back, kneeling in front of him. Magnus spread Alec legs, brushing against his entrance, eliciting a whimper from Alec. Both their members were straining and pained, but Magnus could wait a while. 

" Beg.", he deadpanned, "I did, so it's only fair if you do too.", he reasoned, as if they were in the middle of a conversation.

" Magnus ", Alec whimpered bewildered, "Come on".

" Beg.", repeated Magnus, still expressionless, holding himself at Alec's entrance.

The lack of emotion in his voice aroused Alec further, but Alec had never begged for anything, ever and wasn't going to know.

"Do it.", he ground out in frustration.

" Beg.", intoned Magnus, pressing his entrance hard enough to torment without offering any release.

Seeing Magnus's undeterrable expression, he chocked, "Please. Fucking hell Magnus. Please. Please. Please.", he cried out, voice hoarse with wanting.

Satisfied, Magnus grunted, as he thrust in. "Good", he mumbled, " Just like that love, keep going.".

"Please, Magnus, please.", Alec all but sobbed out, as Magnus slammed in hard and fast . 

The room filled with their moans, as Alec came still begging. Magnus rode him out rougher, stringing out his pleasure, as he too shattered with Alec's name on his lips.

[exileseverafter]

Chapter 3

Meet Marjorie, Who Lived Rent-Free Until Now

“I don’t know how to build a house myself, and I wasn’t exactly in a place to be picky. Abandoned cottage is abandoned cottage.”

Ezra was astonished at how blank he felt as he fiddled with the key he’d found waiting for him on the porch steps. None of it felt real, and it was all being drowned out by the more immediate sensations around him. The air was filled with fragrances sweet and earthy, nothing like the yeast and frosting he’d smelled day in and day out in his former life. The ground didn’t give under his feet the way he expected, nor did it ripple gently the way the Island would as it sailed through the sky. It threw off his balance, and he had to lean on the cracked wooden doorway to regain his bearings. He suspected the horror of it all would strike him sooner or later, fall upon him like sacks of flour from above. That was how horrors tended to go; they were kind enough to give one a period of numb denial in which reality felt theoretical. He thought he ought to take advantage of the shock to unpack what few belongings he’d brought while he had the chance. “I mean, I should feel something, right?” Ezra supposed talking to oneself was a fine habit to develop when one was living alone, and now was a fine time to start. “He’s…dead. It’s awful to feel relieved that someone was dead even if that person was awful themselves. Isn’t it? I mean, not on my worst, but…” The Moon is a trickster, so went the myth, and if She hears one take delight in the suffering of an enemy She will cast upon one a worse fate. Thus it had become common to say ‘not that I would wish that on my worst enemy’ when one could not otherwise sympathize or mourn. Over time it had become ‘not on my worst.’ Ezra found himself saying it more frequently than he liked to admit when it came to Hamilton Tooth. “He’s dead, and I’m not much better off. I’d almost think he did it on purpose! Found a way to make even his death ruin my life. Well, I won’t let it! Well, that’s the attitude I’d like to take. When I have more willpower…” Looking around the cottage revealed wooden furniture, much of it covered in dust and cobwebs. Creatures that moved too fast to be identified skittered out of the way, some out the window and another up into the roof. He lowered himself carefully into a rocking chair that was both too tall for him and felt too unstable to support the weight of a child, and sat there with his head in his hands. He felt a brief itch on the back of his hand; he looked at it just in time to see the large moth which had landed on him flutter away in panic. “Oh, right. There are ‘insects’ down here too. I’ll have to get used to that…” The feeling of something having landed on him left him antsy, and he went back to unpacking. There, hidden carefully inside of his pack and protected by layers of cloth, were two wrapped packages. He carefully set them on the counter without unwrapping them. Inside were the last two things he’d ever been allowed to bake he departed-two perfectly golden brown, cheese and mushroom pies. He still had the Kettle pastry dough recipe, which he supposed should come as a comfort “Not a single one of them came to see me off! None of them even contested my trial. Was that really what they thought of me? Were they just too fond of the story going around about Ezra Kettle striking back on behalf of his family by colluding with a human murderer and thief?! It was just a show for them.” There was something exhilarating about shouting instead of whispering for once, knowing it would echo in the woods and no one of consequence would hear it. Hamilton Tooth could do nothing more to him; he had nothing left to take away, and Tooth was dead. “Just a show for them. First murder trial in decades and resolved in a matter of days. As if any of them weren’t just as happy to see Tooth go…!” The worst had been the looks of gentle, but distant pity. What a shame, he’d heard them whisper to one another. For the Kettles to have fallen so far, such a shame! But we should have expected it. What would the Kettle boy have left other than jealousy? He realized there were tears in his eyes, and blushed from the embarrassment even knowing no one was around. “Well, fine. It’s mine, anyway. Isn’t it? This little pile of wood. Perhaps this is just what I need. Hard work and isolation, and finally a chance to decipher those recipes. They’ll regret sending me away when I’m more prestigious than any of them could hope to be. Trying to sour the name of Kettle like that…! Serves them right. I have the whole Center of the Universe to explore! If I ever somehow develop the urge to travel. And I’m alone…!” Something rustled behind the bedroom door. Ezra froze in mid-chair rock, listening. There it was again; a rustling of cloth. Raccoons, he told himself; unsanitary, but they could be dealt with. A bear was a less pleasant possibility. He’d eaten bear meat before, finding it tough and unpleasant, but even the Sky Folk would whisper in awe over what sort of creature would produce that much meat and claws that big. Tension clung to that idea and he became increasingly certain there was a family of bears hiding in his bedroom, or possibly a small dragon. Dragons liked caves, didn’t they? Was there really that much difference between a cave and a one story cottage? He stood slowly to his feet, holding his big cooking pot in both hands just in case he needed a blunt object to defeat the bears. The bedroom door gave easily, though it creaked in protest. What he saw when he opened it nearly caused him to drop the cooking pot. Unlike the rest of the cottage, the bedroom was perfectly clean and the wood in good repair. There was a tiny pot cooking over the fireplace; Ezra smelled onions and mushrooms. Glass ornaments hung on strings, colorful orbs glinting in the light of the fireplace and an oil lamp. On a clean wooden crate sat a remarkably detailed doll house, a meticulously painted two-story affair which would have been far too small for even a Sky child’s toy. A larger glass orb sat on another, filled with water and housing a brightly-colored fish swimming idly about. A white fur rug sat on the floor next to the bed, a luxurious affair built for two Sky folk and laden with quilts. The sound he’d heard had been scraping wood; specifically, it had been the sound of the black-haired human whittling away at a work desk made of more crates, apparently oblivious to him. Unsure of how to approach a situation like this one, he cleared his throat and remained standing in the doorway. She turned around, peered up at him through the hair falling in her face, regarding him with jet-black eyes, and then yawned. “So, you’re back. You don’t mind that I redecorated here, do you darling? Cobwebs just aren’t my style.”

# ‘Ah well,’ Marjorie thought as she looked at the giant looming over her. ‘It’s been a fine run, and I like to think I did my best when it suited me. I probably should have expected something, taking over a giant’s cabin.’ Accordingly, she gave the giant the most calm and relaxed look she could manage. “Well, if you’re going to smash me with that pot you ought to get it over with.” “Smash you with…I wouldn’t do that!” The giant set the cast iron cooking pot aside and went back to staring down at her. He was a chubby, stout sort with messy black hair and light brown skin, dressed in a loose-fitting coat and baggy pants. He also appeared to be half-panicked; the overall impression Marjorie got was one of a large, nervous sheepdog. “But,” he continued, “but you’re in my house. Or, this house I’m supposed to live in now. I was told it was vacant. And you’ve…and this is all…are you a witch?” Marjorie lifted a lock of hair from her eyes, raising an eyebrow. This was a new development. “You’re not G. Chulainn? That was the name on the front door.” “His name’s still on the door? And no! No no no no. He’s dead. I think so, anyway. I hope they didn’t send me to take over his house.” The large youth shuddered, sitting down on the armchair next to the bed and blinking in surprise when he did. “Oh, this is a lot more comfortable…” “Do you like it? I couldn’t do much about the inconvenient size of the furniture. Inconvenient for me, I mean. I hardly intend to imply there is anything inconvenient about the natural size of your kin! But this was all present when I got here. Honest. All of this was, save for the dollhouse and the fish. And obviously myself. I hope you don’t mind what I did with the place. It desperately needed a clean. And let me tell you, when you’re too small for the furniture cleaning is quite an adventure!” This was her way of saying, ‘you had better appreciate how I’ve been living rent-free in your home as if I own the place.’ “It’s very nice,” the giant agreed as he sank into the armchair. She could see now that he was a bit on the short side compared to the cabin’s previous inhabitant, as he looked much smaller in the chair. “The rug is a nice touch. So all of this used to belong to G. Chulainn? But the kitchen is…and the garden…oh bother. I can’t worry about it now.” He rested his head on his hand. “I don’t know how you managed to scrub all the dust and cobwebs off. I already found a dead wasp nest in the kitchen, or at least I hope it’s…wait.” His eyes narrowed. “Wait, I’m getting off topic. You’re in my house and apparently made a castle room of my sleeping quarters. Why? And I repeat, are you a witch?” Well, it was nice being able to distract him while it lasted. Marjorie sighed and lay back on the over-sized pillow. “My life would be much more convenient if I were a witch, young man! I confess, you would call me a squatter. I had no idea this house belonged to anyone anymore, and it was clear G. Chulainn hadn’t been by in quite some time. You see, things had gone a bit sour back home.” “Sour?” How best to explain this. “Imagine a maiden, innocent and pure of heart, targeted by those she ought to trust and driven from her home with almost no one to turn to.” Marjorie was sure to keep her voice properly sorrowful and plaintive, and her eyes downcast. “If you were that girl, you’d seek a safe place too. Even if it was a very big safe place…” She paused to gauge a reaction, and saw the giant staring wide-eyed at her. Good, so he either believed her or thought she was mad. She could work with both options. As he said nothing to interrupt her, she continued. “So you understand why a girl would flee into the Blue Forest. Granted,” she added quickly, “I am not exactly that girl in question. But I’m in the business of helping her and that’s what’s got me kicked out of court. Did I mention I held a position at court? Quite enviable, and-” The young man squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Yes, I’m sure it was. I can’t really keep up with your...Blue Forest?” “Stay around long enough and you’ll figure out why it’s called that. But, at any rate! When things go south, sometimes you’ve got no choice but to go where no one will find you, reassess and figure out what to do next.” “I think I understand that,” the giant said with a frown and a distant look right past Marjorie. “More than you’d know. So you fled here to a Sky Folk-built shack and moved into the bedroom?” “I don’t know how to build a house myself, and I wasn’t exactly in a place to be picky. Abandoned cottage is abandoned cottage. And I need ed a private place to do my work, for my lady’s sake.” “And just the bedroom.” “Why it’s as big as a small house to me!” Marjorie laughed. “You’ve got to look at things from another perspective, my lar-tall friend.” She realized ‘large’ might be construed as a dig against his weight. Did giants think of themselves as gigantic? She’d heard of a few wanderers who bragged about their enormous size, but this one kept using the term ‘Sky Folk.’ If he was from one of the cloud cities, she was more in luck than she thought. The giant blushed and coughed into his fist. “I didn’t mean to cause offense. Not used to talking with, erm, humans. Only did it once. Anyway, I do feel for you. But this is my house now. It’s no longer a vacant place you can just ‘squat.’ If I could give it up to you and move to town I would! But I’m told that’s inadvisable?” Marjorie considered. “Yes, that’d cause quite a fuss.” Still, this giant was a stubborn one! Perhaps he’d react to the damsel act. “Of course, if you want me to leave I understand completely. I will just pick up my things and go. Alone. Into the forest. Which is absolutely crawling with bears, might I say. And witches. Some of the witches can even turn themselves into bears. Terrible place for a girl to wander around alone.” She gave the giant the most pitiable look she could manage, only to see him return it with one of disbelief and skepticism. “Fine.” Marjorie rolled her eyes. “Let’s try a different tactic. Aren’t you the least bit curious as to why I’m carving miniatures and blowing glass in the middle of nowhere?” She held up her latest project to demonstrate, a tiny and detailed round table. “And where I could have gotten fine linens, and where I’m getting my food? And the fish?” The giant frowned. “I…was curious about that, yes. Exceedingly so. That’s why I assumed you were a witch.” “Don’t know much about witches up there, do you? No, no. Not a speck of magic in so much as my fingernail. But how’s this for a deal.” Marjorie leaned forward, leaning her tall, lanky frame against her work desk. “You let me stay here as long as I like, and I show you my secret. It’s a secret that could be very useful to someone like you who’s just starting out here.” The young giant still appeared reluctant, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “You mean give up my bedroom in a place that’s not very big to begin with, for some kind of ‘secret?’” Marjorie blew out her nose. Perhaps he wanted more immediate benefits. “And I’ll help you clean the other part so it’s more livable.” “Okay, fine. Done. But-but remember!” He pointed a big finger down at her. “I have had my trust broken by humans before, and if it happens again I’ll-I’ll-” His eyes were wide and his hand was shaking, and he couldn’t quite look Marjorie in the eye. That, Marjorie told herself, is a boy who has never tried to give a serious threat before in his entire life and doubts he could go through with it even now. “Done! I shall live up to your trust, young master.” She gave a low curtsy. “Allow me to introduce myself first. Marjorie Snow, former court jester.” “Ezra Kettle,” he muttered. “I suppose ‘cook’ works for now, though I’m not sure that-wait, jester?!” “Ah,” Marjorie jumped in before he could ask further questions, “shh! No time to worry about little details, my tall and generous friend! We have to prepare ourselves for tonight.” “Tonight? But what’s tonight?!” “The reason that this place is called the Blue Forest. Drink some tea to keep yourself up and don’t exhaust yourself cleaning too much!” She peered up at him again through her curls to make sure he was paying close attention with those big, gold eyes of his. “Tonight, we go to the Moonflower Market.” 

(Author’s note: I was still feeling out what kind of story I was going to write at this point. Enjoying the story? Give it a reblog and maybe consider donating to my ko-fi. Thank you!)

[owls-whimsical-city]

Yellow Robes

What happens when someone substitutes his or her lost alchemic ichor with abyssal essence? What effect would it have them? Or perhaps deamonic power is simply for the desperate and daring? Sometimes taking a walk on the dark side unearths secrets the old generation hid.

In a canyon of blue flowers lit by a pale red and purple sky were the signs of sustained conflict, earth thrown about and vegetation uprooted. Two figures stood opposite of each other, one of pale skin and dark glowing eyes and the other a tanned, green eyed Valkyrie shrouded in gold light. Both bore the marks of bloody injuries, and both were heaving quite visibly. Raising her sword, the Valkyrie screamed “Calamity lord Singe! I will kill you here and end your descent into corruption!” In response, a cold, calm and tired voice retorts, tone matter of fact “Heh, would you look at that, another fool sent to their death. The flowers will be your grave here.” The calamity lord raised his pale blue great sword and clashed with the Valkyrie’s gold illuminated long sword and buckler, sparks flying in all directions burning anything in their path.

To a time before the title of calamity lord, Singe was a student at the Bliss Arcanium University. There he led a pretty normal life pursing his theoretical degree in a five-year program. Coming up the steps to the main building, two males dressed casual clothing walked up the steps. “Hey, will you be coming to the club meeting tonight? I think May got a new book again.” In a neutral voice, he responded back “Is that so… sigh… alright, I will come by later tonight.” The other male added, “I can’t stay for long though.” when they reached the top stairs. The two parted ways. For the winter semester Singe had taken advanced mathematics, ichor theory and arcanium brewing. He was majoring in arcana theory and minoring in alchemy. It was the middle of the semester, and the midterm for all three courses had been administered early in the fall, and thus there was a little cool down right now. Of course, many would say that it was foolish to take both advanced mathematics and ichor theory at the same time due to the amount of work required.

 When morning courses were over the two met again for lunch, along with two other friends. Walking up to Singe Markoff and Lixen Ziker was Ellie Walker and May Weatherford. “Hey guys, are you looking forward to tonight’s club gathering? I just got a new book and guess what, it’s written in the Crelick language.” In response, Ellie retorted back with an “I hope you can read that May.” Out of nowhere, Lixen started to complain with “Damn, I hate having magic theory in the morning. They always make you summarize at least three chapters a week for reading.” This time it was May’s turn to speak, “What, you can’t handle three chapters?” “Not when it’s three chapters from Arcana Theory: Elements & Faith, Magic Handling: Arcanium Shaping and Domain of Power: Chemistry & Magic. Do you know how much work that is Ellie? It’s a lot.” Ellie admonished him with her words in a playful tone, “Sheesh, quit complaining already.”

 Finally it was the last course of the day for everyone. Ellie was the first out, next Lixen and Singe, followed by May. Ellie would meet the three at the old weeping willow in front of the mixed sex dorms. When May finally arrived, she noticeably excited. “Great, everyone is here now. Now we can head off to our fun zone!” Her expression was that of unbridled excitement, almost like a child given a new toy. Both Ellie and Singe thought just from her face that she must have really wanted to dig into her new book tonight. May promised to meet up again and left to bring the book from her room while the others continued on to the underground section of the dorm, towards a hidden, unused room.

 The room must been really old and quite unused for some centuries because when Lixen and May first found it hidden beneath the dorm building, it was dusty with cobwebs and old, rotten wooden furniture filled the room. The air was musty with time, and any that was found in the room was rusted beyond repair. It took time, but the two cleared out the room and spruced up with a bookcase and various old and new texts and scrolls, with several shelves littered a wide variety of ritual materials in glass jars, plastic bottles and herbs bags. Lixen and May kept the room hidden, and one day Singe came across it by mistake due to following the two at night skulking off together. It didn’t long for him to find their little secret, and, while somewhat furious at first, Singe invited, followed by Ellie at a later date. The four became friends not long after.

 Singe, Lixen and Ellie arrived before May popped into the room. Her face was alight with curiosity. In her hand was a leather book, showing signs of age. “Huh, you sure that isn’t going turn to dust the moment we open it?~” Lixen teased her upon sighting the ragged book May had in her hand. “Now now, it’s fine. You don’t need worry your pretty little head.” May placed the text on the table. “Now, lets see the splendour of this text!” May and Ellie were the first to examine it. It was old, and state of the ink fading showed it. Fortunately, the written Crelick language was still readable, but the language itself wasn’t easy to understand either, as it shared characteristics with Latin and early Kufic script. Specifically, the placement of the vowels and lettering was of critical importance as it could have many meanings if not read correctly. After awhile, May and Ellie deciphered enough a section to read the chapter title and get a basic understanding of the text. The section roughly focused on spirits, fay, deamons and the like; spiritual entities for the most part. Several names were mentioned in the passages of the chapter, some of them were pronounceable, but others were not. It would take more time to decode those names. May finely settled on the name Razel the Guide. The name was accompanied by an image of a human figure with four wings and two sets of eight inch back sweeping horns. Most of the colour was faded, aside from a few patches of yellow pigment. “Ummm… May, will this take any longer? If so, I’m going to skip out on this night.” Singe was standing by the bookcase leafing through the various books. May merely responded in happy tone. “You’re staying silly because I have chosen Razel the Guide.” She walked over to the bookcase, and stood in front of Singe. “Besides, I promise it will be ffffuuuuunnnn~. So please Stay.” May had pleading facial expression. Singe eventually gave in with a weak nod of the head.

 Now, the first step to protecting yourself was to ensure that you received no backlash effect if the spell was unstable. Spells had a chance of becoming unstable due to improper mixing of energy and alchemic ichor. It was especially so with summoning rituals. Sulphur and blue chalk were required for the outer protection circle, aluminum and sand for the inner circle, and salt for the inner most details. The ritual reagents themselves were placed in six small brass bowls that were arranged around a six-pointed star. “Alright, does that cover everything for the reagents we need? May?” Taking a quick glance back at the book page, May said, “Yes… I think so.” “That sounds confident.” Lixen’s voice had a hint of sarcasm. “Oh, we also require crushed Wolfs Bane and Dead Sea salt. My bad.”

 With the all the components gathered, all four started to chant. The reagents were lit ablaze and the Crelick words were spoken aloud. Time passed… the chanting continued for a bit… and nothing. “What… that was… disappointing, nothing came out.” May’s emotions easily showed on her face, while Lixen was indifferent to the result and Ellie was stoic but determined to know why it failed. Singe was the only one who looked tired. “… All right, nothing showed up. I’m dead tired.” Singe headed towards the table. “We better start cleaning, unless you wish to fool around some more for whatever reason, May.” She had gotten over the disappointment. “ We’re keeping up the protection circles at least, just in case.” “Alright, then I will head out early. I will help out next time.” Lixen casually said, “Yeah, We can handle it.” After an exchange of goodnights, May, Ellie and Lixen stayed behind, while Singe to go sleep.

 On his way to his dorm, Singe felt like he was being watched. The air was slightly cold in the dorm hallway. A small ray of light spilled across the hall from an open door, lighting up only a narrow band of the darkness. From the looks of it, he hazarded that most people were either in their rooms or out. Those that were in their rooms were most likely sleeping, hopefully. There was one more flight of stairs to go before the fifth floor. Upon reaching his shared sleeping quarters, his roommate met him at the door. “Singe, that you?” “Yeah, it’s me Coleman. No need to be scared.” “Well then, get in and close the door already. It’s already 20:45, and it’s cold out here.” “Yeah, will do.” With that darkness returned to the hallway, like it never left.  After closing the door behind him, Singe commented on his roommate’s choice of sleepwear. “Hmm, you’re lucky I got used to you sleeping naked because I don’t anyone else would put up with you.” “Maybe you’re right. Glad I have you as my roommate then.”

 Singe was faced with a black desert with bright green monolithic structures rising out of the sand. The ocean was a shade of red akin to a cherry. The shadows seemed to shift in a haze to darker shades at random. Larger shadows moved on the horizon. In the distance was an approaching figure that wore an open black and yellow threaded robe with black pants. They would almost perfectly bend in if it weren’t for the yellow of the robe. The figure had four horns and wings, glowing blue eyes and pale white skin. “Hello Singe, you seem to be doing well. You haven’t got lost I see in this mess.” The figure spoke in a soft, hushed voice that was clear as day. “Wha… Who are you and where I’m I?” “Who am I?” The figure furrowed his brows, the blue pinpoint irises disappearing for a moment. “I’m Razel, and as for where you are, you’re dreaming. This is a very strange dream. Have you ever been here before?” Now that he mentioned it, it was a strange dreamscape. “Do you dream of alien structures and black deserts?” “… No, not really. Why?” “… Just curious.” Keeping his distance, Singe started speaking again, “So it worked… did we actually summon you Razel?” “No, you did.” “Me?” “Yes, you were the only one that looked interesting.” Razel’s form, while clearly defined, was almost plain if not for the horns and wings.

 At first the feeling was minor, like a faint itch. However, as the conversation went on, Singe started to notice said sensation much more strongly, a feeling of peacefulness and attraction? He was going to ask, but Razel interrupted him before he could say anything. “Ah, so you have finally noticed the affect.” “Wha… what affect?” “The feeling of calm, and maybe an attraction towards me?” The robed figure seemed like it was faintly smiling Singe’s realization, and it now spoke with a playful, kind voice. “Do you find it strange?” “Yes I do. I find it very strange. Ca… do you want to explain?” “When I touch the minds of humans, some are indifferent, but others aren’t. Of those few, even fewer are attracted to me, and I do like to sometimes indulge those feelings.” Without realizing it, the distance between two was shortened. Somehow Razel got closer seemingly without moving. With the increased closeness, the sensations only got stronger.

 Without saying a word, Razel reached out their left hand, caressing Singe’s Jaw lightly. The touch was faint but soft like his voice. Why didn’t he jump back in shock? Perhaps it was because their touch felt like fine silk, soft but electric. The sensation felt good, and soon Singe closed his eyes. “I see, so you do enjoy my touch. I thought so. Normally people would not allow me to get so close, nor touch them for that matter. Yet you have. Why is that?” While pondering the question of why, Razel stroking became stronger, rubbing Singe’s check with his thumb and caressing his hair the other fingers. “Is it perhaps that you enjoy my company and touch that much?” Their palm was now resting on their jaw. It felt so pleasant like he was melting. Before long, the conversation fell into silence, with Razel warping both of their arms around Singe and cuddling with him.

After awhile, Singe opened his eyes, realized that he got swept up with the soft, electric touch. He found his muscles fully relaxed under the care of Razel, who only giggled at it. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. I won’t do anything unless you want me to do that is.” “Rea… really?” “Yes, I’m not forceful. For example, this must feel good.” The situation was still confusing, but the soft touch of Razel’s skin was very reassuring until their hand lightly brush Singes tented pants. A soft, low moan escaped his lips “Hmm, do you want to come with me since you’re so into this? I promise to bring you back if that is what you desire. How’s that?” Singe was like a cat enjoying it’s patting, especially when he murmured his approval. And with that darkness slowly crept inwards from the corner of his vision as Razel held him, all the while they lightly rubbed his dick though the tented fabric. Soon the inky blackness tinted everything.

[nathanael-shadowleaf]

A Tale of the Past, Six.

Another few days had passed since the pleasant breakfast, and each morning was a pleasant echo of the last. Nathanael sat at the table once more eating a basic breakfast stew with some coffee at his side, he grown rather addicted to the dark substance. “I feel as if I should repay your kindness for taking care of me all these weeks....Theoretically I should leave soon but....If there’s anything you need....? Mary gazed at him for a while longer then shrugged. “I won’t reject repayment. If you’d like to help, I’ll be getting a supply delivery today, but this month It’s a rather grabby young boy from a nearby farming settlement. on top of that, with Hallows end approaching, I’m going to begin getting rather busy until after winters veil. If you could stay, at least as long as you’re able and help out wherever you’re needed, it would be a relief, what do you say Mr.Shadowleaf? Nathanael tossed the idea about in his head briefly then nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.” She smiled and nodded her head in silent thanks. The morning and afternoon passed without incident and when sunset came they heard a wagon arriving. “That’d be him. Stay out of sight for now.” He loosed a rasping chuckle. ”Easily done.” Mary stepped out to greet the approaching wagon. The driver, a young boy no older then seventeen leapt down from it and gave a dramatic bow and spoke with Mary checking various items off a list she’dd given him at the same time. Then he began unloading the supplies from the wagon. Nathanael darted from the Inn toward a copse of bushes int he direction the man had come from and sat silently watching and waiting. “So Mary, how’s business?” The boy asked, Mary, wearing a pale blue dress flipped her dark blue hair over her shoulder and twirled her hand as if summon forth the right words. “Normal I guess. Occasional visitors. There was an uproar a few weeks back just after your cousins shipment, Guards charging through the forest for weeks banging my door down almost every morning while they prowled the forest upsetting it’s natural beauty.” The boy nodded. “Aye they hit our village as well. apparently The Baron or whatever was assassinated...Not like I care he never did anything for *his people* Anyways. As for the natural beauty of the forest Mary.” He turned facing her “I don’t think its any less beautiful then I lost saw it.” She chuckled lightly and shook her head. “Joseph Tillir, Don’t you think I’m a bit old for you to be flirting with?” she said, just a hint of annoyance in her voice. “Please, age is only a number, and yours isn’t much higher then my own anyways.” She shook her head. “I’m almost five years your elder.” He nodded. “Exactly....Five years. not much, could be worse....say ten or twelve?” He removed the last crate from the wagon then stepped toward her. “Come on we can get this stuff inside....I can leave in the morning and tell everyone that it took longer than expected and I decided to stay the night....” He laid a hand on her shoulder. “If you want to stay the night you’re welcome to...But I really don’t think any actions between us would be a good Idea...” Joseph rolled his head. “and why not? don’t you ever get lonely up here? miss the comfort of a males body near yours?” Mary shook her head. “Not really...I’ve actually never been with a man Joseph. So I have nothing to miss. I rather enjoy the silence and solitude my forest offers as well.” She took a step back but the boy only advanced on her. “What If I decide you don’t have to pay for this shipment?” Mary suddenly took a rather heated look to her face. “Are to suggesting I whore myself out to you for free supplies? Is that what I look like to you? an easy whore for you to take to bed and forget about?” The boy stumbled back at her sudden rage regaining his confidence after a few breaths. “N-No....Besides who say’s I’ll forget, I may come by more often if anything.” Mary released an irritated sigh. “Oh and that would be just perfect wouldn’t it. Nathanael a little help please?” Nathanael stood from his place in the bushes and tree’s and stepped over. “Yes Ma’am, how may I be of assistance?” Joseph took the man in, this Nathanael towered over him in height by nearly half a foot, maybe more, he also looked as if he had developed muscle from hard work, and looked as if he were born in the forest with the way his thick mass of black hair fell raggedly to his shoulders matching the rough ragged beard on his chin. He wore a pair leather boots and pants that went up into a brown work shirt with suspenders. Sucking in a breath he approached the man. “There’s no problem she just needs you to get these boxes inside for h-” He sentence was cut short by the steely glare the man gave him, his eyes seemed to reflect purple in the setting sun. “My apologies, I didn’t take you for a woman.” He said to Joseph. Mary covered her face to avoid laughing then fixed Nathanael with amused gaze, “He was getting rather....grabby and flirty, Can you make sure he leaves peacefully, I’ll begin moving the boxes inside.” Nathanael nodded and caught a brown pouch she chucked at him which made a jingling noise as he caught it. “Come on Sonny.” He turned toward Joseph again handing him the money pouch. “She has given you payment and you have completed your task, Return home.” The boy took the coins, reluctantly, and climbed into his carriage then turned toward Nathanael one last time. “I haven’t seen you around before....who are you....?” Nathanael raised a brow. “I’m her helper, a guardian of sorts, You can figure the rest out. Now get out of here and treat women with a bit more respect in the future and you may just get a few to fall for you, I mean it’s blatantly obvious despite your bravado that Mary isn’t the only one who has never laid with someone of the opposite sex.” The boy blushed a bright red and spurred his cart into motion leaving only a trail of dust behind. “Do you think less of me now because I’ve never laid with a man, Mr.Nathanael?” He turned facing her and gave shrug. “I could care less really. If you want to have sex or make love or whatever people believe it’s called, you’ll do it and I doubt you’ll have a hard time finding someone willing with how beautiful you are Miss maiden of the forest.” He teased setting Mary’s face a bright red. “I-I-i’m not pretty, I’m just a-average.Why are we talking about this anyways?” she suddenly blurted, running her hands almost frantically through her long braided blue hair. “You tell me Maiden of the forest, you brought it up.” Her Blush grew redder as she realized he was right. “Well.....what’s this about being a maiden of the forest?” He chuckled. “That’s just obvious, You’re a maiden and you live by yourself int he forest...” He leaned over stacking several boxes into his arms and began carrying them toward the inn as Mary stared after him, she was speechless as he left thinking only to herself “This....bastard! what is he doing....or saying what? Oh bloody hell what have got myself into enlisting his help, these next few months are going to be terrible!” she rushed after him with a box of her own. “Dooon’t opent he crates the have all sorts of wares some of them are P-P-P-PRIVAAAAATE!” “Oh so those are the undergarments you like....”

[ask-de-writer]

This WIP is not MLP related at all.  THE FALL OF OAKENFIELD UNIVERSITY is a Prequel to Slave in Pard.

This story is rated YA

THE FALL OF OAKENFIELD UNIVERSITY

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

6101 words so far, work is incomplete

© 2018 by Glen Ten-Eyck

Writing begun 06/03/17

All rights reserved.  This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact.  They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions. All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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Sande was humming happily to herself as she worked to clean Professor Standar's office. She was mulling over his recent lecture on the pervasive nature of the magical field that only unicorns, with their horns, could control.  As she worked, she looked at the big office slateboard.  

She was emptying his trash into a rolling bin.  She added the dust that she had collected from his shelves, books and corners by the use of magic from her horn.  To help her concentrate on the carpet, where her magic was making the dust rise and scooting it into the bin, she actually looked at what Professor Standar had chalked on his board.

A bit excited by what she saw, she took a chalk and went to the empty board.  She wrote neatly, “Professor, I am 3rd year student Sande. I saw your problem because I am working part time as a janitor, and was assigned to clean your office.  

“I believe that the problem that you are working on will reduce more easily as a five function matrix, like so.”

Under that, she chalked his beginning mathemagic and then the steps to convert the unwieldy original expression into a matrix.  Then she proceeded to transform the matrix by clear steps to a solution.

She replaced the chalk in its tray and was turning to go when she found her way blocked by the Professor himself.

Mildly he observed, “I see that you have seen fit to use my chalk board.  What did you think so important that you did not clean it off when you were done?”

He ambled over and began to examine Sande's derivation and solution carefully.  Turning to her he spoke with mock severity, “This solves a problem that I have been working on for three weeks!  That causes me a great difficulty.  I now have to completely rewrite the opening of my latest paper to be presented to the Society.  I have to include you as the one who provided the complete Mathemagical proof of the whole idea!”

He broke into a grin and gave Sande a hug.  Leading Sande by the hand, Professor Standar practically skipped as he lead her away from her work cleaning his office.

As she was pulled along to the next building, her dark brown mane flipping about in the breeze, she panted, “Where are we going?”

Gleefully, Professor Standar replied, “To see Professor Greenleaf!  He and I have been working on this paper for weeks but could not figure out how to derive the matrix from the essential expression!”

As they were entering the cool halls of the Mathemagical Annex, Sande puffed, “I do not think that this is a good idea.  Professor Greenleaf does not like me.”

Professor Standar paused just short of knocking on an office door.  He turned to Sande and asked, “Why would he not like you?”

She bit her lip nervously before replying, “I was sitting in on his Theoretical Mathemagic 620 symposium.  He put up the assumption that only the horn of a unicorn could tap, shape and utilize the overall Magical Field.  I questioned whether other things might be able to tap or alter the Field, since it is easily detected to be stronger near groves of trees, for instance.

“He grew very angry and angrier still, when he found that I was not even enrolled in that upper division class.  After that, he has tried to get me removed from the University several times.  

“He found that I have no Herd Backing nor support.  I pointed out that the Greenswale Herd, that I came from, was merged with the Know Nothing Herd by force.  He got all my scholarships pulled.  I earned enough off of one job last summer to pay for my entire third year, books and lab fees included.

“He got my other work study jobs pulled, except for this janitorial one.  That freed me enough time to entertain at foal parties and play table-top strategic games.  Both pay quite well.  The parties I do for fees and I place bets on the games.”

In a dry voice, Professor Standar asked, “Is that all?  It seems more than a little extreme.”

Quietly Sande replied, “No.  At the Mathemagic 302 mid term, he gave me a separate test from the rest.  Nine problems on deriving and processing matrices and one on reducing raw data from a Metastable Structure experiment.  He gave only three sheets to show my work.

“Without actually grading it, he simply wrote an F on it when I handed it in.  I filed a departmental appeal.  Three witnesses, two of them faculty, saw him do it.

“All that I asked for in the appeal was sufficient sheets to actually show my work in detail while the appeal committee watched and to be fairly graded on what I did.”

Professor Standar, nodded slowly, “I did not know that was you.  I and the whole rest of the faculty heard about it.  You needed fifteen sheets to show your work.  At grading, YOU had to lead the Mathemagic faculty through your methods and reasoning.  They gave you an A+.

“Since Mathemagic 302 only deals with Linear Expressions, both inequalities and equalities, the Appeal Committee removed you from the class with a stipulated A+ grade and pulled you from classwork entirely.  

Professor Greenleaf was furious because the rest of the department gave you a challenge degree in Mathemagic.

“What are you working on now?”

Sande straightened up proudly, “I have been expanding Horimizu's zero sum placeholder expression idea.  It is really quite interesting.”

Just at that moment, the door opened and the red roan unicorn looking out, snapped, “I heard that!  Why are you even here?  You have been forbidden to do janitorial work in the Mathemagic building!”

Professor Standar cut in, “I brought her here because she wrote something on my slate work board that . . .”

Triumphantly, Greenleaf interrupted, “She did?  Excellent!  I will have her cast from the University for this affront to Faculty!”

Professor Standar said mildly, “I said nothing about an affront to Faculty.  In fact, I will give you the same twenty minutes that she had in my office to duplicate what she wrote.  If you cannot, I will have you withdrawn from our Active Metastable Structures paper.  What she wrote took our lab derived expression, which is on your work board too, and derived a matrix, processed it to a specific solution and from it derived a general solution.

“That is what I brought her here to show you.  

“I see that you still are attempting to remove her from the University because she embarrassed you.  Your efforts are a Direct Violation of the University's Primary Code.”

In outrage, Professor Greenleaf demanded, “How can you even say that!  I have devoted my life to the development of Mathemagic!”

Sande stood back to let the Professors squabble it out.

Standar snapped back, “And at the first serious question of the basic assumption that our horns are unique in their ability to tap and manipulate the Magic Field, instead of investigating, as LOVE OF TRUTH would require, YOU tried to silence the questioner!  Some LOVE OF TRUTH!

“That test that you gave to her, as a MIDTERM in Mathemagic 302?  It was rated BY YOUR DEPARTMENT as a graduate level written and oral exam!  She got an A+ and was removed from Mathemagical classes with both a Bachelors and a Master's Degree!

“Last year you conspired to remove her grants and scholarships to force her to leave!  Instead, she did ONE job, over the harvest break and Paid THE FULL BALANCE of her third year in advance.”

Grimly, he demanded, “Twenty minutes, Greenleaf!  The matrix, processing, specific solution, and general expression.  That is all the time that Sande had and she did it!

“Match her work or lose the paper.”

Sande spoke up, concern in her voice, “No, Professor Standar.  That would be a mistake.  Simply because I did this part, does not mean that Professor Greenleaf would not have valuable input.

“In the Library I have read everything that he has published.  Aside from the single error about the unicorn's horn being the sole means of harnessing and utilizing the Magical Field, his work is excellent.”

Sour at having his part in an important academic paper saved by a mare that he detested, Professor Greenleaf invited, “Why don't you come in and show me what she has stumbled onto?

“As for her mad assertion about the magical field being manipulated by anything but the horn of a unicorn, I have never seen any proof of it!”

Sande remarked casually, “After we have dealt with this expression, I will give you a free demonstration of a non horn initiated magical field accumulation.”

Gesturing at an empty slate board, she said, “With your permission?”

Growling under his breath, Professor Greenleaf snarled, “Go ahead!  Show me what we have been missing!”

Nodding, Sande rewrote the basic expression with one more factor and began to reduce it into the matrix.

Greenleaf slapped the chalk from Sande's hand, pronouncing triumphantly, “This is garbage!  The expression that you added works out to ZERO!  It makes no difference!”

Sande gave him a withering glare and snapped, “Didn't the reprimand for PREGRADING my midterm in Mathemagic 302 teach you ANYTHING?

“In the SPECIAL CASE of THIS METASTABLE STATE, it is ZERO ONLY AFTER metastability is achieved.  That is when all the measurements were made.  That's why it was missed.”  She turned back to the board and chose another piece of chalk to finish creating the matrix.

As she was processing the matrix, Professor Greenleaf's keenly watching eyes flew open!  He grabbed a piece of chalk of his own!

Checking against Sande's matrix and her restatement of the original expression, he began to sketch a graph of his own.  It started at zero and rose in an asymptotic curve to positive three, dropped to negative three and rose following a similar curve up to zero, where it repeated itself.

He then wrote out the solution to Sande's matrix and produced the generalized expression.  He put his chalk down before Sande did and pronounced, “I not only beat her time, Standar, I have discovered a repeating function in the magical field that will be worth an entire paper by itself!”

Without pausing her work, Sande pointed to Greenleaf's chalk board and stated, “In ANY mathemagic class, that would be marked as a failure.  

“You failed to show any of your work.  Not the derivation of the graph points, not the matrix processing, nor the three steps from the specific solution to the generalized one.

“Besides, since I did get a departmentally given advanced degree out of your improperly administered and graded Mathemagic 302 midterm, I have the right to submit papers for peer review.  MY paper covering that function and the other five revealed in examining data from other Metastability experiments is already in peer review.  

“If you published that, when a faculty witness saw you lifting it out of my demonstration work, I would be forced to charge you with plagiarism.”

She put down her chalk and turned to Professor Standar and pointed out, “I did say that it would be a mistake to remove him from your paper.  As you can see from what he has done here, as soon as he had a prompt in the correct direction, he is both brilliant and insightful in Mathemagical analysis.

“It is a pity that he has had to be given a formal Board of Deans Order of Non Interference about having any further contact with me academically or financially.  That is why he is being kept from my papers until they are released.”

Reaching across Greenleaf's desk, Sande picked up a sheet of paper and a quill.  Her eyes widened just a little.  She glanced away from the desk top and began to draw a small design near one corner of the paper.

“This part is a trigger for the demonstration that I promised you, Professor Greenleaf.  The rest of the design will be the Accumulator for the Magical Field, with no horn needed to create it or use it.  She finished her drawing, bending the corners of the paper up over the design, Sande tore a small rip through the trigger part.

She sailed the folded paper toward the center of the room.  With a green flash of released magical field, a loud and surprising POP! the paper suddenly burst apart into a fountain of small confetti!  Only tiny fragments of shredded paper drifted to the floor.

While the others were both staring at the surprising result of Sande's demonstration, she snatched two bundles of papers from Geenleaf's desk and put them into her large waist pouch.

She calmly steered Standar out of Greenleaf's office while he was espostulating, “You promised to give me that demonstration!  I must have a sheet with the design on it!  You promised!”

Over her shoulder, Sande retorted, “I promised a demonstration of Magical Field Accumulation without the use of a horn!  Not to show you how it was done!  You got to see it happen!  Now you know that it can happen!  Your axiom about the unicorn's horn is PROVED wrong!”

Outside, Sande dragged Professor Standar to the office of the Dean of Schools of the University.  Inside, she greeted the mare at the desk with, “Hi, Vanara!  Do you have a file copy of the Greenleaf Academic Restriction notice with his signature?  I need it and I need to see the Dean as soon as possible!”  She slapped a short pile of paper on the counter.

Vanara turned to a file cabinet and extracted the document before saying, “What is happening, Sande?  Oh!  I see that you have the printing office galley proofs for your latest paper!  Have you finished the markup yet?”

Grimly, Sande replied, “I did not get them from the printing office.  They were intercepted and being improperly marked up by Professor Greenleaf. Along with the markup, he was writing a rebuttal, part of which claims my expansion of Horimizu's zero sum placeholder expression.  I have it, too.”

Vanara reached across the counter and took the galley proofs to examine.  She held out a hand for the rebuttal paper and examined it.

She signaled one of the waiting student office runners.  

Grim of voice, Vanara instructed, “Get the Printing Office sign out log for . . .” she examined the galley proof and finished, “Junnea fourth, this year.  Bring it directly to the office of Dean of Schools Honner.”

The runner simply repeated, “Galley sign out log for Junnea fourth, Dean Honner's office, yes Mam!”  He left at once.

Vanara left her desk and went to a door down the hallway that her counter blocked access to.  There was a swift but quiet conversation.  Vanara gestured for both of them to come to the office.

As they were seating themselves, Sande noticed the headline of a newspaper hanging over the desk of Dean Honner.  It proclaimed, “Know Nothing Herd Burns Leafhome University!”

She commented to Professor Standar, “See that?  It means that we are the last college or university left between the Southern Sea and the Skywall Mountains.”

Standar replied, “I know.  The Know Nothings tried to use their 'common sense' thinking to guide farming in the nation of South Plains.  It has resulted in a massive crop failure and much spoilage of what was harvested.  Grains of all sorts were especially hard hit.”

Sande whistled softly.  “They were only just recovering from that drought. This crop failure will cause a flood of refugees from that whole area. Where will they go?”

Dean Honner shrugged, “Disaffected unicorn refugees have been making their way through the only known pass in the Skywall for over twenty years, now.  There is supposed to be a rich plain on the other side, called the Green Sea.  I expect that many of them will go there.”

Sande pointed out, “Perhaps not all that many.  If reports are to be believed, that Green Sea colony has been at war for nearly five years with a confederation of tigers and leopards called Pard.  Even if I was hungry, I am not sure that I would want to go to some place where I might get eaten!”

Dean Honner nodded. “I do understand what you are saying, Sande.  Unfortunately, that is not all the story.  The Green Sea colony is also sending several tonnes a month of top quality fodders back through the pass.”

Sande quietly touched her lips before saying, “Suddenly I can see the motivation for starving herds to take that risk.”

Vanara re entered the room and placed a folder on Dean Honner's desk.  As she was leaving, Professor Greenleaf barged into the room, pushing her out of his way!

Ignoring all else, Greenleaf planted both hands on Dean Honner's desk and demanded, “You must dismiss that MARE, Sande, at once!  She entered my office, where she has no right at all, and she STOLE important papers from my desk!”

Professor Standar interrupted Greenleaf's tirade dryly with, “Actually, Professor, that is WHY we are having this meeting with Dean Honner.  It appears that . . .”

Greenleaf rounded on Standar, in the process seeing Sande for the first time.  “What is that MARE doing here?  She stole papers from my desk!  She was not even supposed to be in the Mathemagic Building at all!”

Professor Standar pointed out calmly, “She is filing a formal complaint against you, Professor Greenleaf.  The charges are violation of the University's restriction on contact with Sande or pre-publication access to her papers or other intellectual works or property.

“Speaking of theft, you took the galley proofs of her paper expanding Horimizu's zero sum placeholder expression.  You were re writing it to make it appear to be intellectual garbage while claiming her insights and discovery as your own in a 'rebuttal' paper.”

“I would never stoop so low!  She is a mere mare and a only a third year student, besides!  As such, she has no right to lofty thought!  As a student, she cannot properly publish papers in any case!”

Dean Honner interrupted dryly, “Greenleaf!  The reason that THIS third year student CAN publish papers is those Bachelors and Masters degrees that she won from fair judging of her midterm exam given by YOU, last term.

“The brilliant work on those fifteen pages of Mathemagic that she needed to answer your nine questions, two of which were classical unsolved conjectures, BECAME her first paper, and YOU KNOW IT!  Since then, she has already published two more papers and had the final peer reviews done and galley proofs prepared for her FOURTH paper, the one that you directly stole from the Printing Office.”

Dean Honner flipped open the file that Vanara had given him.  Greenleaf blanched as he recognized the contents of the file.  It was the Printing Office's Sign Out Log for Junea Fourth and under it were several standard Witness to Conflict forms.

Spreading out the incriminating evidence, Dean Honner continued, “Your inability to recognize her obvious intellectual capacity AND your continued efforts to have her removed from the University alone would have caused what I am now forced to do.  Add to those infractions, your direct violation of the Board of Deans order of Non Interference by this outrageous attempt to plagiarize her work and discredit her, force me to enforce the Non Interference Order's penalty clause.

“Professor Greenleaf, your tenure at Oakenfield University is terminated!  One more infraction and you will be removed from the faculty.  Am I clear?”

Dean Honner gave Professor Greenleaf a red sheet of warning.  He added, “After this egregious violation of the University's trust, you may not even publish comments or letters regarding ANY of Sande's work.

“Please leave my office.  If I have to call you back, it will be to sever you from the University.”

The furious Greenleaf slammed the door on his way out.

Dean Honner shook his head at Greenleaf's behavior.  Then his distinguished white furred muzzle broke into a smile and he asked, “Sande, are you going to be at the Horn and Hog for War Game Night tonight?”

She nodded, her horn bobbing happily as she replied, “I am looking forward to it, Sir.  You give me a real challenge.”

Standar looked up at the framed medals and Wide Plains general rank badges on Honner's wall and said skeptically, “How often can you win against a general of Honner's experience?”

It was Honner who suggested, “Why not come and see for yourself?  If I am lucky, I win two out of five games with her.  Sande really keeps me sharp.”

That afternoon, Professor Standar accompanied Sande down the well shaded cobbled road to the village of Oaken Woods.  The many farms surrounding Oaken Woods showed clearly the beneficial effect of being close to the famous University.  The fields and orchards were not only well tended, they were filled with the unique and highly productive strains of fruits and grain provided by the Agricultural School.  To his pleasant surprise, he saw the farmers using metastable structures in the harvesting of hay and grain.

As the muscular field mares swung their scythes to fell the crops, the metastable structures attached to the scythes gathered it into shocks and bound it with strings of twisted grass stalks.  On the farms, even the stallions were working to get the crops into the barns.  They were pulling big farm wagons that were being loaded by stallions using different metastable magic structures attached to the wagons.  Shocks to be loaded were simply placed into the structure, which lifted it and placed it in the wagon.

Pleased at seeing his theoretical work being put to practical uses, Professor Standar mused, “I did not know that the school had released any of my work for general uses.”

Sande nodded as she strode ahead.  Looking back, she replied, “This is an experiment by the Agriculture School and authorized by Dean Honner.  If it is as successful as it appears to be, it will be put into general use next year.  It should earn both the University and you some handsome royalties.”

“I see.  How stable are the structures that they are using?”

Sande grinned as she stated, “They only last about three to four hours.  Re setting them takes around twenty minutes, which gives the workers a welcome break.  At the moment, it looks like your work has improved harvest efficiency by about 20 to 30 percent.”

By then, they had passed into the village proper.  Sande guided them around several turns to a substantial half timbered building with large multi pane windows in front.  The sign out front swinging in the breeze proclaimed it to be THE HORN AND HOG.

Inside, the main room was only lightly crowded but it was filled with the beery scent of fermented locoweed.  The lanterns and iron candle candle sconces cast a reasonable amount of light.  It was late enough that the windows contributed almost none.  There were soot trails up the walls above the wrought iron candle sconces. The floor was flaked bark, comfortable underhoof.

They crossed the room, dodging around tables where many disreputable looking unicorns were busy losing what money they had in assorted card and dice games. A few were winning.  Not many.  Mares in skimpy attire were lacing their way through the press of customers, carrying large trays filled with drinks or dishes of food.

Sande led them to a door and held it open for professor Standar.  The back room was far quieter.  Many unicorns, both mare and stallion, were standing around five tables.  A sixth table was in use.  A large bookshelf next to it had holes where volumes now on the table were being consulted and pages of notes being taken.

Dean Honner looked up with a big smile.  “Sande!  We were waiting for you!  The vote went to the Tomb River Campaign.  We were just setting up the Crane Creek battle to kick things off!  Which side will you take?”

Without hesitation, Sande replied, “South Plains!  We beat them so bad in that one that fighting it from their side will be fun!  What do I have to work with, General?”

Dean Honner commented to Professor Standar, “The kids know that I was a General in this very war, so the whole club calls me General.”

He handed Sande a sheaf of papers.  “Here are your troops and disposition at the start of hostilities.  You will find that we actually copied captured scouting reports for you too.”

Sande nodded, while leafing through the data.  Breaking into a grin, she put four gold coins in a tray beside one of the game tables.  She announced, “Crane Creek table ante is four gold!  Pick your staff General and ante up!”

Coins hit the tray. The General and three others took the Wide Plains Republic side of the table.  Sande took a wand like pointer and reached into the table top which was a complete reproduction of the Crane Creek battlefield and surrounding area projected by controlled magic.  She began to use it to array her forces, which were seriously outnumbered.  As he walked about the table, Professor Standar realized just how subtle its design was.  From each side, all that could be seen of the opposition was what the field command saw from their place in the old battle or wherever they placed command and scouting for this re fighting of it.

He overheard the General muttering to his three subordinates, “Just as I suspected, she is pulling a fast one on us.  I can only see about half of what I saw in real life when I fought this battle!  We need scouts out yesterday!  Move it!”

One of his assistants muttered back, “I am working on it already.  When she said that it would be fun to fight from the South Plains side, I knew that she already had the fix in!”

One muttered, “Found them, I think.  That woods that is supposed to be too boggy to get a force through?  Three scouts looking it over have vanished.”

The General nodded sagely, “Have to wonder how she got them there, if she did.  Probe it in force with a platoon.  See what sort of responses we get.  Hold the main force in position.”

As he watched the action unfolding, Standar realized that this game was like none that he had seen before.  It was not turn based.  Both sides were moving simultaneously.

The next report was, “Sir!  The platoon was driven off by aimed archery and crossbow fire.  The enemy is staying hidden in the forest for now.”

The General gave a satisfied snort.  “Crafty of her.  Leave a force sufficient to deal with the reserves that she put out for us to see and hit the forest hard.  We want to draw her out to better fighting ground if we can.”

As the Wide Plains Republic forces started to strike the boggy forest, Sande's “reserves” began to charge the superior force in front of them. Every copse or thicket that they passed yielded up more disciplined war mares, augmenting the charging army!

They did not simply outnumber the now defending force, they suddenly began a leap frog advance.  The pausing forces taking the time to fire an archery barrage into the defenders before rejoining the advance.

By the time that it came to spear and sword, the defenders were severely reduced and quickly cut to pieces!  Sande's attack then pivoted and charged the main Wide Plains force from the rear!

The General was swearing in admiration as the trap closed on his troops.  They were being forced into the boggy forest and it WAS too swampy for them to hold cohesion as a force.

The Wide Plains Republic had to raise the white flag.

A cheerfully smiling Sande scooped up the table ante and collected a number of side bets as well.

The next battle and the one after that all fell to Sande's skill at warfare.

The golden coins of the Wide Plains Republic antes fell into Sande's purse!  She took not only the table antes, she collected side bets in profusion.

The club members were conferring with the General and had three military histories out on a working table.  Sande looked over their shoulders and exclaimed, “The Hardrock Chasm Stand!  That is one of the best classical battles.  The Wide Plains Republic army was outnumbered over one hundred to one!  In spite of that they held off South Plains for six days, until reinforcements could arrive and drive South Plains back!”

The General looked up from his books and asked skeptically, “I presume that you have had some thoughts on the battle?  Nobody has ever held any simulation where South Plains could get through the Wide Plains Republic position!”

Sande batted her eyelashes at him and retorted, “Finally, a chance for you recover your gold!  I mean, I do have South Plains for the battle.  This battle will wrap up the Tomb River campaign.”

One of the General's staff commented, “Sande has already stood military history up on its horn.  All that I can say is that I think that she must have something nasty up her sleeve!”

Mildly, the General replied, “She always does.  Even when she loses, it is usually a disaster for the winning side.”

He set up his troops in the classical and time tested way, camped just in front of the Hardrock Chasm, with the small river to his left.  Tall cliffs spread out for twenty miles on each side of the chasm, creating a solid barrier to the South Plains army.  

From his camp, the General's forces could strike the South Plains forces in the rear if they tried to bypass the barrier.  If South Plains tried a direct attack, all that the Highland Republic had to do was retreat into the chasm itself and South Plain's greater numbers were nullified.

Sande advanced her forces in the classical way, directly out of the histories.  She encamped by a small woods.  While some troops were cutting firewood, she sent emissaries to request the surrender of the Highland Republic.  That was refused, of course.

That afternoon of battle table time, Sande sent a substantial force against the General's troops.  She had a strong center that forced battle.  From each side, parallel to the cliff faces pincher forces advanced, trying to cut the General's army off from retreating into the Hardrock Chasm.

Just as in history, the ploy failed and the Republic army withdrew into the steep sided and very narrow cleft.

Sande's troops withdrew to their camp, leaving only a few platoons to keep the General bottled up.  They had a leisurely meal and replaced the guarding platoons so that they could eat.  She was keeping her wood cutters busy apparently making firewood to last out the siege.

On the second battle table day of the battle, Sande advanced the results of her woodcutter's labor.  Three catapults.  They fired sacks of smaller stones that burst on hitting!  The rupturing bags scattered a deadly spray of stones from fist sized up to melon sized chunks through the General's middle ranks!  Worse, they then fired at the opening of the chasm, bottling the General's troops, preventing them from escaping the deadly hail of stones, by fleeing deeper in the declivity.  She mopped up the remains of his leading forces and advanced into the defile, foot leading, catapults following.  As swiftly as her advance made contact with the General's now retreating troops, more catapult shots leapfrogged over them to cut a small number off from aid while they they were reduced.  The catapults did not even have to aim much. Hitting a wall of stone simply burst the bag of rocks earlier and blasted them down from above!

Helplessly watching his army dwindle before his eyes, the General quietly reached over to the table ante tray and gallantly handed it over to Sande.  He offered, “Brilliantly done, Sande!”

Sande, eyes sparkling with glee, went through the crowd collecting her side bets!

An unfamiliar figure entered the room and scanned the crowd before homing in on Sande.  He made the mistake of grabbing her shoulder as he declared, “I demand Herd Rights!  You have to mate with me and give me half of that gold you collected tonight!”

Sande rolled in under his grip, striking up along his extended arm, directly into his armpit.  Her strike carried enough force that it lifted him off his hooves and laid him full length on the floor!

Sande hit him with both knees in his gut, driving the wind from him.  Her right hand slapped the bottom of her shoulder bag and came away with a big combat knife!  She held it before his unbelieving eyes so that he could not mistake what it was before she plunged it into his throat!

Conversationally she stated, “If you lie very still, you will live.  If I slash even a little to right or left, you will die.

“You cannot claim herd rights on me.  I am a herdless mare.  My herd was Greenswale. Greenswale was forcably absorbed by the Know Nothing herd who then declared Greenswale to be extinct.  There is no Greenswale herd, so you have no Herd Rights on me.

“If your Stallion Need is great enough that it will not be denied, speak to either Wilton or Lanni behind the bar.  One of their serving mares will sell you an hour or a night, depending on how much you pay.

“You have nothing more to say to me at all.  Speak another word to me and you die. Now, either go away or go to the bar.”

Sande withdrew the knife and backed away from the fallen stallion, maintaining a combat guard with her knife.  He got to his hooves, pressing one hand to the cut in his throat, and bolted for the safety of the night.

Sande turned to the shocked club and shrugged.  “I know that most mares will yield Herd Rights to just about any stallion in Need.  Herd Law is clear, though.  Only Herd Stallions can demand Herd Rights of a mare.  Other Stallions can ask for Herd Rights but no mare not of their herd is obligated to give them.

“My herd was Greeswale.  They were forcibly absorbed by the Know Nothing herd and declared extinct as a herd.  He was a scout from the Know Nothing herd.  I don't like them because of what they did to my herd.  I don't have to mate with them and I WON'T.”

Sande's horn lit up as she used its magic to straighten up the room where the stallion had fallen.  She extended a hand to the General and suggested, “General, we need to end this meeting.  He was scouting for the Know Nothing Herd.  We have to get back to the University and begin preparing our defenses.  

“Oakenfield is the last university or college left.  If we fall, all of Wide Plains Republic will follow South Plains into an intellectual and physical disaster.  We have the last major library.  All of our classical literature and research work is in it.  We are the last place where magic is being studied scientifically.  Our Agricultural School is vital too.

“We have to save as much of it as possible.”

The General gave a sad look around the War Game Club and nodded.  “You are right, Sande.  I had hoped to never have to fight a real battle again.  It is not to be.  Anyone here who is willing to fight to save the University, follow us.  We are going back to the school.”

Sande was pleasantly surprised to find that nearly all of the rough stallions and mares from the Horn and Hog were following.  She could hear much of their muttering, “School might be out of my league but those new higher yield crops sure ain't.  Showed us how to use our magic in a whole new way this year at harvest.  Got the whole crop in days earlier than the old ways.  That school been a godsend to us.”

They were several hundred followers strong by the time that they reached the University.