#if i'd quit a week or two or three ago none of this would be my problem

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[starks-hero]

Concerning Lockley

A 3rd installment to the Smoke and Mirrors series.

Pairing: Marc Spector x Reader, Steven Grant x Reader, Jake Lockley x Reader

Summary: A year has passed since the events in Cairo and two things cannot remain hidden for much longer; the truth and a third alter.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: canon-divergence, revolves around Marc and Steven's past so implied child abuse, lightly implied smut, descriptions of violence, language (but it's me so that's almost a given)

a/n: A criminally late third installment to Smoke and Mirrors/The Truth is Rarely Kind. It's fairly heavy so I'd recommend reading the first two chapters for context. Anyway, guess who's finally arrived? 😏

You had grown fond of the night. The peace, the silence. The temporary comfort that, even just for a little while, things would be okay. Well aquatinted with the early hours, you woke to see them hit the clock almost religiously; every night without fail.

Every night since Cairo.

Sleep was something you'd forsaken. The few hours of rest you did manage to steal were few and far between and when you did manage to drift off your guilt followed you into your dreams. It seemed that was all you ever felt anymore; an overwhelming, crushing sense of guilt that never went away. 

You'd started making a cup of tea some time ago, (five minutes perhaps? enough time for the boiling water to cool, now a comforting warmth radiating through the ceramic.) It was another sanctum in your ritual, the action almost bringing more comfort than the drink itself. The steam kissing your hands and drifting through your fingers in playful wisps, the hypnotic sound of the spoon gliding against the ceramic edges of the mug.

Your hand stilled and your breath hung idle in your chest; a moment later two arms settled around your waist with a gentle squeeze and a yawn muffled against your shoulder. 

"Alright, love?"

Steven spoke the words into your neck. They were gentle and warm, just like the rest of him. There's a certainty in how he holds you to him and you quit stirring your tea in favour of supporting yourself against the counter. You fear your knees will give way, from the lack of sleep or guilt, you can't tell. His nose ran the length of your jaw and you offered a quiet hum in response to his earlier question.

"What are you doing up, ey?" His voice is breathily quiet, softening at the end as it would when he spoke to a child or small animal. Something he was worried he'd frighten. His hands, feather-light in their movement, traced down your arms until his fingers brushed the swell of your wrists. Intertwining your fingers, he brought your joint hands to your chest and pressed down. It was a grounding, comforting weight.

I'm here. I've got you.

You took several deep breaths, each somewhat steadier than the last. You swallowed down the sand that seemed to have formed at the back of your throat; dry and scratchy.

"Couldn't sleep," you answered truthfully.

Steven had waited patiently for your answer. He was always so patient. He'd been patient during the three weeks you'd scarcely spoken to them after Cairo, and patient still during the outbursts that followed when you did start talking to them again. And how could he blame you? Dying and coming back again was bound to have that effect. The entire dying situation was something that had been quickly placed in the red zone (extremely triggering and not to be talked about,) and after an exceptionally explosive episode with Marc over it, none of you were eager to revisit it.

Steven wasn't even certain you remembered your time in limbo, but if you did you didn't talk about it and he didn't pry.

"Come back to bed, yeah? I'll stay up with you till you doze back off."

He did know that you didn't sleep anymore. Not really. On more than one occasion he'd wake in the early hours to find you sat by the door or perched by the window, something sharp in hand. Harrow, by some miracle, hadn't come looking for you yet, but you planned on being ready when he did. 

Steven and Marc could feel the anxiety that practically hung above your head like a black cloud of miserable smog. The thought of Harrow and his goons finding the ushabti and following through with their plans was one that haunted you. A fact made clear by your desire to, in your own words, 'find the deepest, most ancient well known to man and chuck the damned thing down there.' But dealing with people set on genocide called for something more permanent and Layla had assured you she had it handled.

You didn't doubt her but it didn't make you feel any more at ease either.

You focused on the weight of Steven's hands against your chest instead and took another steadying breath. You agreed to go back to bed, if anything just to ensure Steven got a few more hours of sleep. You would fake it, you'd gotten good at it too.

He kept your hand in his as he led you back to bed. The tea abandoned on the counter eventually went cold.

You awoke to Marc, his lean arms barely brushing the expanse of your stomach, hand resting openly against your waist. You always knew the difference, knew who you'd woken up to. Steven held you like you would turn to dust and Marc held you like you were made of glass.

His hold on you tightened as he woke, that subconscious urge to keep you at arm's length crumbling. He kissed your head, your neck and then the expanse between the blades of your shoulders, his hands reverent as they traced your skin.

He made love to you differently since Cairo. It was slower and methodical, that desperation and fear that had been there before was long gone and there was a certainty now. He was more sure of himself, of you and of what you were to each other.

You rested in a comfortable silence afterwards, the air still warm and sweet and the sheets grounding against your trembling body.

Marc was a work of art beside you and for the briefest of moments you could understand why Khonshu chose him. He was made to be divine, to be godly.

His eyes had lightened a shade, as they tended to do when he was unfocused and staring into nothing. It was something only you'd noticed; the way the dark chestnut brown turned amber, almost pools of honey in the morning light now.

You traced his temple and he turned to you, taking the time to plant a kiss to your wrist. Right above the gentle beating of your heart. You temporarily worried that he'd feel your guilt in how your pulse drummed irregularly against his lips. You always felt guilty when he touched you softly. Knowing what you did you felt you didn't deserve it.

Your anxiety must have bled into your expression and Marc mistook it for worry.

“I'm alright,” he said. “It's just… quiet.” He traced his forehead and looked back at the ceiling. It was an observation he'd made several times in the last few months. His thoughts weren't as loud and his head didn't feel as crowded, no longer bursting and tearing at the seams. You supposed that made sense, now that a homicidal bird was no longer among his mind's residence.

You drifted with your thoughts until a gentle nudge from the man beside you brought you back to earth. His brows were furrowed subtly, trying not to give away that he knew something wasn't quite right.

“Baby–”

“I'm fine.” The words were so rushed they tumbled over each other as they left your tongue. You doubted Marc would have understood you at all if it weren't for how many times you'd parroted the phrase in the last few months.

Marc sighed and wrinkled his nose. “Steven doesn't believe you.”

“And you?”

“I think you're a bad liar,” he added. It wasn't accusatory, quite the opposite. “What's going on?”

The rehearsed lines came naturally. “I'm just tired.”

He seemed disappointed by your answer but said nothing. Another fifteen minutes in bed and Marc got up to start his morning routine and you prepared to keep up your masquerade for another day. You knew your lines as well as the part you had to play. It was all second nature now.

A week later you decided that you were going to tell them.

It wasn't the guilt that drove you to it in the end, not exactly. You'd been dealing with that for long enough. Rather it was the humbling realisation that this was no longer about you. It wasn't about how you spent every waking moment thinking about what you'd seen. How every time Marc laughed you envisioned the child that spent his birthdays either alone or berated. Or how each time Steven touched you softly you thought of the little boy cowering from his mother. 

No, it was about Marc and Steven and the fact that they deserved to know. And if your relationship was the price to be paid for them to have their truth then so be it.

But just because you'd made the decision by no means meant you were handling it well.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” You cursed with each step as you did laps of the kitchen. You'd started pacing just after Steven left for his shift and you were certain you could pace for the rest of the night if you needed to. A hieroglyphic on the patterned rug Steven had bought had noticeably worn down beneath your feet. 

You'd tried to rehearse something, gone as far as writing out bullet points and trying to convert them into something that resembled a speech. But all that came out of it was a bin full of crumpled-up paper and an even deeper pit where your stomach should be.

You passed the fish tank for what felt like the ninety-ninth time and stopped to glance at its resident. Gus seemed about as interested in the current affairs as a goldfish could be.

“How do you feel about staying with me on the weekends?” You asked. A single bubble left the fish's mouth in reply. “Gods, I'm losing it.”

Your heart near burst from its ribbed prison as the doorbell sounded three clanging chimes of doom. Your anxiety was so off the charts you were certain anyone nearby with a radioactivity monitor would be recording some cataclysmic event with your apartment as ground zero.

You employed every shred of willpower you had to get your legs to move you towards the door and opened it with such a convincing smile you should have been handed a bafta then and there.

“Hiya, love!” Already unsteady on your feet, the absolute, unabashed optimism in Steven's voice nearly had you keeling over.

He barreled forward past the threshold, a well-aimed kiss landing on your cheek and a bouquet of pink carnations brushing your chest.

“Picked these up for you on the way home,” he quipped easily as if the gesture came as easy to him as buying the milk. The bouquet was so large you had to employ both hands to hold it. The petals were so picturesque they almost seemed fake and the stems were a healthy green. The stall vendor had cared for them so well.

Steven hadn't stopped talking, not even as he removed his work clothes, electing instead to keep telling you about how the vendor had told him of the variety of colours carnations came in and their individual meanings but that he chose pink just because they were pretty–

“And I thought maybe we could go out tonight, grab something nice to eat. It's been a while since we've– everything alright, love?”

Still staring at the flowers, you hadn't realised you hadn't looked at Steven once. And he'd read you like a book.

“Do you not like them? Is it the colour–”

“No, no, Steven, they're beautiful.” You rushed. “It's–” That awful sensation of pressure began to coil around your neck and you struggled to swallow. Every thought spilled from your mind like water through a bullet-riddled tin can. “I just–”

In three quick strides, Steven was upon you, hands rising slowly to cradle your face. “Hey, hey now, it's alright. Had a long day?”

Something close to a whimper caught in your throat. You'd had a long few months. 

You closed your eyes and focused on the soft press of Steven's palms against your skin, how his fingers brushed your jaw and thumb was ceaseless in its comforting movements across your cheek.

You took a steadying breath, Steven praising you as you did, and in the moment of silence that followed you felt the extra presence. That there were two bodies in the room but three people. That reminder of Marc served as a final shove.

“I need to tell you something.” The words were so long coming you felt your lungs almost give out under the weight of them. “The both of you.”

Steven's gaze softened, not an inkling of fear to be found despite your troubled expression. There was no doubt or worry he'd done something, only that certainty he'd carried himself with over the last number of months. 

You thought about telling them your 'heinous crime' was breaking Steven's favourite mug and then he'd laugh and act offended regarding the remark Marc would have made about Brits and their tea. Then the three of you would go to bed and nothing bad would happen, nothing would change– 

“I'm here, Marc too. We're both listening.”

“Back in Cairo–” A breath. Now or never. “Khonshu showed me something. I know it sounds ridiculous but when Harrow shot me– when I died and before I came back, Khonshu– he showed me your past. He showed me everything. And I've wanted to tell you for so long, I should have told you–”

His hands fell from your face and without the anchor of his touch, you felt yourself sway. When he took a cautious step back your heart capsized. You wanted to follow him but guilt and fear had fused your feet to the floor in equal measure.

“Steven please, I didn't want to hurt you. Marc, I–”

His eyes fell closed and your chest felt like it was caving in atop your lungs as you waited for them to open. Waited to see Steven, eyes innocent and confused and knowing you'd have to tell him that everything he was came from something so awful. Or waited for Marc, eyes clouded and full of anger. Your entire life hung by a thread and at this rate, you wondered if cutting it yourself would be a kinder act.

They had every right to be angry after all, every right to hate you. Having someone poking around in your head without permission was such a nonsensical thing to have happen that you couldn't think of a single reaction that wouldn't be warranted.

After what felt like hours, his eyes opened. 

But it wasn't Marc. And it wasn't Steven. 

It was a dull, far-off stare; tired eyes regarding you from beneath hooded lids. 

You dared not move. It wasn't just the eyes but his entire body that was different, the way he carried himself. A tired smirk pulled at his lips and this stranger, this intruder in their body, seemed to have caught on to your realisation. He turned his back on you and walked towards the kitchen without a word.

His footsteps were lighter than Steven's and heavier than Marc's and his shoulders remained squared as if ready for a fight. And for a worrying moment, you thought maybe he was. 

You stayed as you were, moving only a few inches to keep him in sight whilst still within bolting distance of the door. It was a terrifying thought, having to run from someone that looked like them.

 The intruder opened the cabinet below the sink and pulled out a shoulder of whiskey you didn't know was there. The broken seal and missing liquor as well as how casually he grasped the bottleneck in his hand told you this wasn't his first indulgence. 

Opening the second cupboard to the left, (how did he know where everything was?) he retrieved two short whiskey glasses and placed them on the counter, the bottle presented in the middle almost decoratively.

He looked to you, then to his alcoholic display, then back to you expectantly. Against all better judgment, you joined him at the counter. You hoped he couldn't notice the sweat at your brow. 

“I don't know if you drink,” he said and his voice knocked the wind out of you. It was so foreign, coming from his mouth; like hearing the brass notes of a trumpet come from a clarinet. “But I think you might want one for this.”

You regarded him as one might do an unwanted guest, cautionary and with no shortage of distrust for this stranger wearing your boys' face. 

“Who are you?” he didn't answer. “Where's Marc and Steven?”

His brow twitched in a move you took for unamused disapproval. Ignoring your questions, he generously topped his cup and downed it all at once before pouring himself another and this time including you in the debauchery. You didn't trust your hand enough to lift the glass from the tabletop. You hoped he hadn't noticed how you were shaking.

His eyes set on you and his head tilted to the side. You were sure, rather you hoped, it was a harmless gesture but feeling as small as you felt it was hard to receive it as anything but predatory.

There was a stretch of silence that lasted so long you felt yourself losing your nerve, then–

“Three's.” He said, grasping his glass loosely. “All good things come in three's. You heard that one before, carino?” He lifts his pointer from the glass and tilts it in your direction.

If it weren't for the fact he was suddenly speaking Spanish you might have found the strength to answer. You anxiously toyed with your glass and you were certain he caught the tremble in your fingers.

Scared as you were, the fear was slowly melting into frustration as the absence of Marc and Steven became more pronounced with each passing second.

“You're not Marc.” He shook his head. “And you're definitely not Steven.” Another slow shake of agreement. “Then who are you?”

“People with big houses buy big guard dogs to keep them safe.” He took another swig of his drink. “Let's say I'm this house' guard dog, I keep things safe. And since you joined our little fiesta, that includes you.” 

You tried to swallow the information but found yourself choking on it instead. There was a third.

Your mind was near bursting, cracking and fissuring at the revelation. An hour ago you had convinced yourself that you were ready for whatever was to come, ready to change the trajectory of your life for the worst all in the name of both what was right and your love for Marc and Steven. But by the universe and all the gods within, this was not what you were expecting. The thought that Marc and Steven had been keeping this, keeping him from you was an unwelcome one. You could understand it of course, but the notion that you’d all been keeping practically life-altering secrets from one another left you feeling uneasy.

“Relax,” he said, and either the body's skills were interchangeable or you really were just easy to read. “They weren’t lying to you.”

The length of time you spent processing the information proved enough for him to finish his drink with another five seconds of wiggle room. 

“They don’t know?”

He shook his head and for the first time all night, he took his eyes off you. “And we’re going to keep it that way. They won’t find out about me, or Khonshu, or that little stunt back in Cairo-”

Your blood ran cold, freezing water flooding your veins. “How did you-?”

The movement of his mouth fell somewhere between a smile and a grimace.

“Khonshu told me to give you his compliments. You’re the first person in decades he’s done that to whose brain hasn’t turned to sand and come out their ears.” You stopped breathing. “That, and that he wishes you could have been there when we put three bullets in Harrow’s skull.” You rose so quickly the chair fell away behind you and your drink toppled. He kept a good hold on his own glass, ignoring the spilt liquor seeping into the timber. He didn’t seem concerned as you backed away from him.

“What the fuck did you do?” The words burned as you spoke them, leaving your throat hoarse. All the fear and confusion had warped into a horrified anger so palpable that your body trembled to withstand it. “What did you do?”

“What I had to.” He rose to meet you, in tone and stature. “To keep this safe-” he motioned his arm around at the apartment. “-And to keep this together.” This time his hand motioned between you and him. No, not him. The body.

“They have a right to know.” You bite the words out harshly, the tears of frustration welling in your eyes only making you more intimidating.

“They have a right to some peace.” His answers came quick and concise, as if he had them memorised like a well-versed script. “I think that’s something we can both agree on.”

Your lips parted with the promise of an argument but the absolutely overwhelming weight of the conversation crested and swept you away before you got the chance.

“They don’t want to be avatars anymore, that’s fine. They can stay here and keep playing house and happy families and I’ll do what has to be done. All you have to do is keep it that way. Now, I’m going to leave and when you open the door again it will be to one of them. And you’ll smile and act like everything is fine and the three of you will get on with things as if nothing happened. Understood?”

“And what about you?” You doubted the walls of any courtroom had ever heard a tone as accusatory as the one you’d just employed.

He made a brief noise of amusement before raising his head to look down on you and it was again made clear that this man couldn’t have been any more of a stranger.

“Some dogs are meant to be kept on a short leash.” 

With that, and leaving a deepening cavern beneath your ribs, he started for the door. You tried to breathe, tried to speak, tried to stop yourself from throwing your heart up. He swiped the bouquet of carnations from the desk as he went; Steven was prone to daydreaming, all he had to do was reset the scene. 

“Wait,” you managed as he turned the handle. If you were going to even entertain going along with this sick, twisted theatre of lies then you deserved to know who you were performing with. “Who are you really?” 

He grinned, apparently sharing the sentiment. “Jake,” he said, the sound like water on hot coals. “Jake Lockley.”

And then he was gone, leaving you to rehearse your appreciation of carnations and the colour pink.

Thank you so much for reading!

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[think-dry-thoughts]

Here's the werewolf omo I promised. Sorry if the formatting sucks, I'm copying from my notes on mobile.

Connor stepped out of his truck onto the crisp fall leaves below him. One whiff into the air made him nervous, but he knew he had to be here. Connor had to make a good first impression with this pack, especially since he was freshly bitten didn't have one to belong to on his own. As much as he hated the idea, he knew his wolf would be in better control in a pack, and so he swallowed his pride and drove into their territory to try to make peace.

Connor didn't really know what he was expecting, but it wasn't this. He had met with (and swiftly been rejected by) many other packs before, and none of them had lived like this. Most other packs had a home base, anywhere from a full neighborhood to at least an RV or two, but this was just a clearing in the woods with tents and a few sleeping bags scattered about. Connor's heart dropped a bit at the sight of it, not because he was disappointed in the arrangement, but because he needed something that he knew they didn't have. His bladder clenched a bit and he sighed, slamming his truck door shut and walking out into the property.

A few werewolves looked up at Connor, some of them looking a little more confused than others. Maybe it was the way he looked, which was way too nice to fit in with the majority of the people here, or maybe it was that his scent was just foreign. Connor knew that either way, he didn't belong. An older man stepped out from one of the tents and walked up to Connor.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Connor said, holding out his hand to greet the other man, "I've heard so much about your pack."

The other man raised an eyebrow at him before clearing his voice. "This isn't my pack. You must be the guy Levik's expecting."

Connor, a little embarrassed, dropped his hand and tucked it into his pocket. His first impression with a pack member and he'd already blown it. He thought for a second about cutting his losses and leaving, but the older man spoke up again.

"Levik is out patrolling the territory line, you can wait here if you'd like, I'd hate for you to have to hike out there," he said, sounding a little passive aggressive.

"It's okay," Connor retorted, "I'll head out there and see if I can find him."

Off he went into the woods, leaving the older man and his pack members to stare at Connor as he walked along. Not very long later, he passed the tree line, and wondered if he should just go back to his truck. He felt a little in over his head here, and frankly, his bladder was sitting a little more heavily than he would've liked. Nonetheless, Connor needed the approval of at least one pack before he turned again. His first time had been just three weeks ago, and it was unexpected and horribly out of control. He needed to find a pack that could help him control himself.

Connor pressed along through the trees, making his way over a few rock ranges and down past a river, where he decided to take a break. He sat on a rock, and despite the fullness of his bladder, he realized how tired and thirsty he truly was. He took a glance at the river, its crystal clear water babbling and rushing down through the forest.

"It couldn't hurt," Connor thought to himself. "After all, I am a werewolf."

Connor got down by the water, kneeling down and drinking it straight from the river with his hands. The water was so sweet and refreshing, he realized how thirsty and tired the trek had really made him, and he sipped on the water for quite some time before leaning against a tree to rest a bit.

He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but when Connor awoke, he noticed two things. It was pitch black outside, and his bladder had gone from full to practically throbbing. He realized he had slept at least a few hours, and he had no idea how to get back to his truck. Even with his heightened senses, everything looked the same out here, and speaking of heightened senses, he could feel his bladder screaming against his pants. He stood up, the pressure dropping even lower into his abdomen, and held himself for a minute before he was collected.

Connor thought for a moment about peeing on a tree, just letting it out right there, but the wolf inside him screamed at him not to. This wasn't his territory, and therefore, marking it could be dangerous. He would just have to hold it. He sniffed the air, trying to decide what direction to head in, and smelled neutral air from what he thought was not too far ahead. At least if he got to the neutral territory, he could hang out there for the night and actually relieve his bladder, but in here, he didn't have any idea what he was in for.

Connor pressed forward toward the smell, walking way more slowly than he had earlier in the day. His belt dug into his bladder, making every step absolutely agonizing, and since he was coming up from the river bank, the rocky path did not make it any easier. Connor loosened his belt slightly, just one hole. It felt a little better, but his body wasn't any less angry with him. He couldn't possibly loosen his belt anymore, though. If another wolf approached him in the woods and saw him with his belt undone, god knows the impression he'd make would be enough to have him kicked out at the very least.

As the walking went on, Connor began to wonder how far the territory line could really be. It had smelled so close, but he also hadn't been accounting for his enhanced sense of smell, especially at night. He started to wonder if it wouldn't just be faster if he turned around and went for the truck, but he had made up his mind now and his bladder wasn't really letting him change it. Connor pressed on, the pangs from his bladder going from a quiet whisper to a full on scream. He needed to go, and very soon, but he didn't know if he'd be able to make it out.

In his preoccupied state, Connor didn't see a log in his path, and he tripped over, landing flat on his stomach, sending waves of desperation through his body and chills down his spine. Fuck. He couldn't hold it anymore. He scrambled to his feet, his shaky hands unbuckling his pants. He was going to do this here, right in the forest.

He ripped his dick out of his pants, willing himself to go, but he couldn't. His wolf wouldn't let him, not on someone else's territory. He forced down on his bladder, pushing hard against it with his fist and squeezing with all his might, and he was able to produce one perfect stream. The wolf smelled the urine instantly, and forced him to stop instantly, sending a stabbing pain back into Connor's abused bladder. He tried with all his might to start up again, but it was like the wolf had a grasp on his bladder and wouldn't let it loose. He had to get to the territory line, and fast.

With shaky legs, Connor scrambled as quickly as he could, which was a hobbling walk, trying his best to clear the property line. His bladder screamed with every step, and he could feel the piss in his dick, but his body just wouldn't let it out. At this point, he'd be okay with just pissing his pants, as long as he could get the fullness to go away. He was so full, so fucking full. Tears began to stream down Connor's face as he slowly made his way toward the line.

Up in the distance, he finally saw it. At first, he thought it was a desperation induced mirage, but as he got closer, he realized it was real. There was a fence marking the property line. He was so close. In his joy, he dashed toward the line, his body screaming and a few drops of urine escaping, filling his senses with dread and joy at the same time. He got to the fence and realized that fuck, he needed to get over. If he could just scale the fence, he would be free. With his hands glued to his dick, though, and his knees practically sewn together, he knew there was just no way. He was truly trapped. Connor tried to let go, but his hands just couldn't stay away, and he tried to climb, but his legs were just too weak. It hurt so bad and he just needed the relief that was seconds away.

After a few attempts, Connor's legs gave out, and he fell to the floor, shaking and death gripping his dick for the last ounces of relief it gave him. He suddenly heard the snap of a twig behind him, and knew another wolf had found him. He could smell those few drops of piss in his pants, and remembered that he had spread his scent on the ground not too far back. He knew he was going to be punished. And yet, a firm but comforting hand rested on his shoulder and a soothing voice spoke up.

"Are you okay, friend?" the voice asked. "Why are you crying?"

"It fucking HURTS," Connor cried out through his sobs. "I'm sorry about the scent but I had to find Levik and I fell asleep and FUCK. It just hurts, please."

"You found me," the voice claimed, and the man stepped into view. This was the pack leader, and the anger Connor had expected to see on his face was actually just replaced with concern.

"What's hurting you?" Levik asked calmly.

Connor looked up at him with teary eyes, still grasping painfully at his cock and grinding his legs together to stop the throbs from his protesting bladder.

"I just, I don't want to ruin your territory," he mumbled, "but I just- nnghhh- I-"

Levik said nothing, but knelt down in front of the bursting werewolf and began to undo his belt. He unbuttoned Connor's pants, and pulled the zipper down swiftly.

"Is it okay if I take your pants down for you?" Levik asked.

"Please," Connor begged, "please help me, I have to pee, please!"

Connor's shaky hands tried to come off of his cock, but they wouldn't on their own. In one swift move, Levik grabbed them firmly and pried them away from Connor, then pulled the werewolf's dick out for him, aiming it down at the ground. He waited for the gush to come, and yet, nothing came.

"Y-your territory," Connor stuttered, "my wolf won't let me."

"Oh, poor thing. I see now," Levik said in a live of sheer pity. "I accept you into my pack, this territory is yours now."

The second Levik said the words, those perfect words Connor needed to hear, a spurt shot out of Connor's body. It was almost as if his bladder hadn't caught on yet, but once it realized it was free, the stream picked up strong. His piss splattered against the ground, the audible hissing painfully noticeable against the previously dry leaves on the ground. The ground couldn't soak up the piss nearly fast enough, and the pee started to puddle up and leak toward Levik, coating the leader's knees. When Connor realized, he tried to stop, he Levik simply shook his head to stop him from trying. The relief was almost dizzying, and Connor felt himself slumping over, the piss still rushing out of his body. Levik reached over and supported the man as the waves continued to pour out of his body. Connor's head rested against the man, and Levik could hear the moans of sheer relief coming from his new pack member. The sounds were almost erotic, and Levik did his best to ignore them as Connor continued to relax.

When the stream died down, Connor realized what he had done, and picked himself up off of Levik, refusing to make eye contact. The shame started to burn into his chest and his face felt hot, but then the scent hit him. He smelled like he belonged on the territory, and the marking here was his. He took a deep breath and composed himself, just to look up and see Levik standing up and beginning to free his own cock from his jeans.

"You know," Levik started, "I was planning on remarking this part of the territory today, so you've actually done me a huge favor."

Levik's dick began to spurt piss into Connor's puddle, and Connor could only watch in awe as the other werewolf emptied his bladder a mere foot from his face. When the werewolf's stream trickled off, he zipped himself up and offered his hand to Connor to help him up.

"It's not nearly as much as you did, but it'll hold down the fort for a while," Levik joked. "Come back to camp with me, we'll get you something to eat and get you cleaned up."

Connor smiled slightly and took the other werewolf's help, standing on his still shaky legs and following the man back to his camp. It had been painfully unconventional, but Connor had finally found the pack that could help him. He just hoped that in the future, he'd make a better impression.

[braveclementine]

Chapter 34

Warnings: 18+readersonly, teasing, threats of brat taming

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own a few OCs like Elizabeth, Katherine, Stacy, and Jessie. I do not condone any copying of this.

Elizabeth, Jessie, Katherine, Pietro, Vision, and Hogun all got married three weeks later. It was a beautiful ceremony where Jessie wore silver, Katherine wore light pink, and Elizabeth wore white. Pietro wore silver as well, Vision was in human form wearing red, and Hogun was wearing a deep blue lined with black and silver.

The bonding ceremony was beautiful, though shorter than your own. In the end, Elizabeth, Pietro, Vision, and Hogun got a wave symbol for their soulmate bond. Jessie and Pietro were a simple flower while Katherine and Pietro got sun symbols.

Eventually they all dispersed after the ceremony- Wanda included.

Time seemed to pass afterwards. They still stayed with you, even after the wedding, as they were preparing to buy their own house- without Tony's help. They had decided that they would be moving to Florida, and by the time our children were born, they would be leaving.

It was only a month after the wedding that both Elizabeth and Jessie got pregnant. Jessie was obviously carrying Pietro's kid, but Thor let the others know that Elizabeth was carrying Hogun's child.

Elizabeth was ecstatic. I mean, they all were. Everyone was happy and everything was great.

Nothing had changed in your family dynamic- which was fantastic. You were still rotating through everyone, though you did spend just a bit more time with Fury, T'Challa, and Bucky.

Bucky had some fears about being a child, especially with his soldier serum coursing through his veins. And though he had been cured of being the winter soldier a long time ago, there was still a part of him that feared it might come back. That he might relapse. That his metal arm was a danger to any child that we had.

A few sweet, honest words and he was settled back down though. Shuri's surgery had worked and there was possible way for Bucky to become the winter soldier again except by choice. Not to mention, it had been a few years since Thanos, so the only bad thing was his nightmares.

As Rhodey and Bucky had predicted, Alpine did have kittens. Tony made sure that F.R.I.D.A.Y. captured Fury's reaction- which had been priceless.

"Guess what?" Bucky had asked, walking into the kitchen, holding Mini Loki.

"What?" Fury grunted over his cup of coffee, eyeing Mini Loki with dislike while Maria rubbed his shoulder soothingly next to him.

"Alpine had kittens! Isn't that wonderful!"

Fury spit his coffee out. "Maria, we need to get out of this house! There's um- a shopping center that just opened up and I want you to um, take a look at it!"

He grabbed her hand, slamming the cup of coffee down and basically ran the two of them out of the house.

Tony laughed once Fury exited. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., please send that to my email and make sure to save that in my favorite videos. I'd like to post it to YouTube later."

"He will kill you." Coulson and Steve said together, not bothering to look up from the breakfast table.

The months were slow but steady. Around the fifth month, you were quite large. Stephen became your main caregiver, just as he had a lot more experience in the medical field with this sort of thing. Not that he had ever been a birth doctor, but he had gone through medical school and knew more than the others.

Of course, none of this stopped the others from having sex with you. In fact, you even seemed hornier just by being pregnant. And they were all more than willing to satisfy your needs.

Stacy had her baby. A little boy that her and Jackson named Alexander Drake Portolio. He was a sweet little thing with Stacy's green eyes and Jackson's red hair. It was a strange mix on the little boy with freckles already dotted across his face, but he was cute.

You rolled over, coming face to face with Rhodey as you woke up one morning. "Hey hot mama." He mumbled sleepily, running his hand through your hair.

"Hi Sugar." You smiled, closing your eyes again to rest your head on his chest. It was hard to lay on your side anymore- especially now that you were nearing the nine-month mark.

"How are you feeling about the baby shower today?" James asked, running a hand along you're protruding stomach.

"Nervous. I can't wait to know what the genders of the babies are though." You said. "I wonder what Elizabeth will do with the cake, since its' triplets."

"Something Harry Potter themed probably." James joked and you laughed. "How about a bath this morning?"

"That sounds good." You said, sitting up while James slipped from the bed, running a hand over his hair as he made his way to the bathroom, flipping on lights. You could hear the water running in the bath while you stretched your arms above your head.

You picked up the glass of slightly stagnant water from last night, drinking the rest as your throat was still a bit sore.

"It's ready Hot mama." Rhodey said, coming over to help you to your feet. He grinned down at you, brushing your lips together, which you met with eagerly. He chuckled, pulling away when you let out a needy moan against his tongue. "C'mon, bath. You need to relax."

You didn't want to relax, you wanted to ride him, but you reluctantly let him lead you to the bathroom. He helped you over the bath edge and then helped you into a sitting position before climbing in with you.

"Hair or body first?" He asked, motioning to the shampoos and soaps on the tub edge.

"Hair." You said, scooting forwards some so that he had plenty of room behind you.

You always loved when one of your boys did your hair, especially if it was Fury, Sam, or Stephen. They seemed to have rather magical hands when they did it. Bucky was the only one who didn't want to wash your hair- afraid he'd use to much strength with his metal arm, or that the armor plates would retract and your hair would get stuck between the joints.

He was a bit better with the vibranium arm of course, no joints there, but he was still rather careful.

Rhodey's fingers seemed to almost massage your scalp. You smiled a little, finally relaxing like he wanted you to.

Rhodey grabbed the nozzle, rinsing the soap out of your hair. You conditioned the ends of your hairs, rinsing that away, while Rhodey grabbed a blue bar of Dove soap, rubbing soothing circles all over your body.

"James." You mumbled as he finished washing his own body.

"Damn Y/N." Rhodey muttered, a small smile on his face. "Last night wasn't enough?"

"It's never enough with anyone." You grumbled, being a slight brat. "I don't know why I'm so horny all the time."

Rhodey just chuckled, helping you to your feet again and handing you a towel to dry off. "We have to get ready for the baby shower. Later all your needs will be satisfied."

You grumbled a little, but didn't argue because- god damnit- he was right.

You dressed in a F/C maternity dress with flat, sturdy white sneakers for support. Wanda helped you pull back your hair, tying it up in an elegant knot with white ribbon.

"Thanks Wanda." You said with a smile.

"No problem Y/N." Wanda said, fixing up her own hair now while you started on the makeup.

"Has Elizabeth finished the cake yet? Cause none of us are allowed downstairs till she has." You said.

"She's putting the finishing touches to it right now." Wanda said. "She said she'd text when she sticks it in the fridge."

"How are you feeling about the upcoming move to Florida?" You asked. They'd decided they wait. Give birth here, and then that was when they would move.

"I'm kind've excited." Wanda said sincerely. "It will be far away from you guys, but its' not as far, especially with magical portals, no?"

You smiled, "Very true."

Wanda's phone lit up with a text from Elizabeth giving us the all clear. Rhodey knocked on the door to let us know that he was heading downstairs.

"Is everyone else here?" You asked.

"Nat and Bruce are the only ones left to show up." Wanda said. "Even the Guardians got here quicker than them. But," She smirked, "they probably had a late night."

You giggled, "Very true."

Oh right! The Supreme Court had made some changes to the law. Those medically unable-like Nat and the widows, or Vision- were not required to have children. The rules had lightened up a bit- including the penalty for not having enough children- and things were a bit more relaxed now.

You got up, leaving the bedroom with Wanda. Wanda went down the hall and down a set of stairs that led to the guest wing, while you took the main staircase to the kitchen.

Elizabeth looked tired, like she had been up for hours. Her own baby bump was rather large, though nowhere near as big as yours.

"Morning Y/N!" She said cheerfully enough, setting out a plate of eggs, sausage, and a bowl of fruit in it. A small piece of avocado was on your plate as well, making you wrinkle your nose.

"Oi!" Elizabeth scolded, pointing the spoon at you. "I hate avocado too but you are carrying three babies! Eat healthy!"

You let out an exaggerated sigh, eating the nasty green vegetable- fruit whatever- first, rinsing the nasty taste out with a mixture of milk and delicious sausage.

"What time is it?" You questioned Clint next to you.

"Ten in the afternoon. The official baby shower starts at twelve though."

"Where is everyone?"

"Peter and Gamora are showing their daughter around town. Nebula and Kraglin might be with them, although I don't know where the tree and raccoon are." Clint said with a shrug before eating more of his oatmeal. "Thor is probably with them. Bucky is probably wherever the racoon is not."

"He keeps trying to buy my arm." Bucky grunted, coming into the kitchen. He was wearing a leather jacket and a glove was covering his metal hand.

You hid your smile as Bucky grabbed a bowl of apple jacks to eat, leaning against the kitchen counter with his back to the wall so that Rocket couldn't sneak up on him. His eyes continuously roved the kitchen.

"Hey T!" You called over to T'Challa, "Does Shuri still have Bucky's old metal arm?"

"It is possible, why?" T'Challa questioned, confusion written all over his face.

"To give to Rocket." You said with a shrug and a grin. "Might get him away from Bucky's arm he's using now."

"Yes, give that to him." Bucky groaned. "Please!"

"I will let Shuri know." T'Challa said with a bit of a smile.

"You locked up all of the guns, right?" Clint asked everyone in the room, "Cause Rocket will take whatever guns he can get."

"Shit!" Tony jumped up from the table, "My lab!"

He raced down the hallway towards his lab.

"Yeah, Rocket would definitely pillage that." Clint smirked.

"Yes, Steve, Sam, and I locked everyone's guns up safely." Bucky grunted.

"I don't think that would stop him." Loki deadpanned at the table.

The breakfast table banter continued while Elizabeth slaved away at the stove, dishing out plates and plates of food, though you didn't actually ever see her eat anything herself.

"Tony should start paying you." You smirked as Elizabeth set another bowl of eggs in front of us, the boys immediately digging in, though you could've sworn that they'd already had three plates of food.

She just shrugged, a small smile on her face. You knew she really didn't mind. This was exactly what Elizabeth wanted in life. A peaceful life where she cared for her husbands and children. This was just a practice for her- and she was damn good at it. She would be a fantastic mother you were sure.

Twelve o'clock came sooner than expected and things were moved outside, under a large canopy. The Guardians were back. Bucky sat tensely by your side while Rocket sat on the other side of the table, his eyes never leaving Bucky.

"Can I stun him?" Bucky muttered under his breath.

"No." You muttered back, smirking. You knew that he and rocket had actually made a really good duo back during the war. Unfortunately, Rocket had grown an obsession over his arm and it was all he could think about now.

Bucky sunk down in his chair while Steve took a seat next to him, hiding the smile on his face.

"It's not funny punk." Bucky gritted out of his teeth.

"I didn't say it was." Steve said mildly.

"How are you, my Nkosazana?" T'Challa asked, coming up behind you to hug you from behind. He rested his hands on your stomach, feeling the babies kicking inside. "They are extremely active today."

"They've been active all week." You said with a little laugh. "They want out."

"Well Stark did just finish off their rooms." Fury said, sitting on the other side of you. Maria and Coulson sat down on the other side of him, both of them in deep conversation about something.

"Really?" You asked, surprised. "Everything? Without even knowing their genders?"

"Well, he did say that the probability of them being all girls or all boys were very slim so he made two rooms up that could fit two of both genders in them, technically more, but he's prepared." Fury smirked.

Elizabeth brought out the cake, setting in front of you, winking. "It is a bit. . . unconventional, I admit."

You couldn't see anything wrong with the cake. There was a plain, white frosting on the outside of it, not unlike the frosting that had been layered on Steve's cake. The decorations on top were very simple, just a black eyepatch, a small black cat, and a red star.

Elizabeth cut the cake directly down the middle, sliding the two pieces aside. They looked liked two halves of a different cake. On one side, there was a double layer of chocolate cake, and blue frosting in between each chocolate layer. On the other side, it was only layered once, white cake and pink frosting.

Everyone looked at Elizabeth, who was blushing slightly. She pointed the knife at the chocolate and blue. "Fury and T'Challa are having boys." She turned the knife towards the vanilla, "Bucky is having a girl."

You started to laugh, realizing the colours of the chocolate were the skin tones of your boys and the frosting was the gender of the children.

"So, remember, when you do her cake, you have to make the cake yellow." Sam whispered in my ear, making me laugh even harder.

It was all light humor and then the cake was passed around. Presents were given to the four of you- well really your babies.

Once the baby shower was finally over- about six hours later- and the party was cleaned up, you couldn't wait to get someone to take you upstairs. You had been badgering the others for a long time.

"You know what Stevie is?" Bucky asked darkly in your ear, arms wrapped tightly just above the baby bump. "He's Captain America, he's the golden boy. He's an agent, a killer, a lover, a husband, and he'll be a father. But I swear above everything else doll, Stevie is a brat tamer."

Steve and Sam were the only ones who overheard this, cracking smiles. Steve winked at you and you whimpered, feeling the need to be filled intensity with Bucky's last words and Steve's just utter hotness.

"Please." You whimpered, not even caring how many people were surrounding you.

"Y/N!" Tony shouted, running over to you, eyes bright. You nearly started crying on the spot. "C'mon, I have something I want to show you beautiful."

You let him lead you upstairs and down the unused hallway where he opened up the doors to reveal one of the bedrooms.

"Whoa." You said, horny thoughts banished to the back of your mind. "Tony this is-"

"I want our little girl to have the best." He said, smiling over his shoulder at you. "I can already just imagine her in here. Sleeping under there with her stuffed animals. I can picture you sitting next to her, reading her bedtime stories. I can imagine her during the day, running up those stairs and squealing as she slides down the slide. Of course, she's in the crib for now-" He pointed to a lovely, same shaded pink and white crib that was pushed up against the wall.

Everything was a rather overwhelming pink colour, admittedly. But it was also adorable and very princess like.

"I do need to fix the flooring a bit." Tony admitted, "More carpets. I don't want her running on this hard floor until she's a bit older."

You loved how Tony was calling her his daughter, even though she was biologically Bucky's. You were glad that he was seeing them with any difference of his kids.

"I love you Bubba." You mumbled, kissing Tony's cheek.

He chuckled, "You haven't even seen the boys room yet."

You laughed, taking his hand and let him guide you to the boys room. Upon opening the door, you gaped.

It was definitely larger than the girls room. But at the same time, it felt much smaller as there wasn't as much open space as the girls' room.

It looked as though there was a tree growing in the room, with a house on it. There was a ladder that would take them up and down the inside of the tree. The house opened up to show there was one small bed in there, perfect for a kid up until perhaps the age of 12 or 13, depending on how tall he was.

There were rope bridges on either side, that led out into the bedroom. Tunnels connected beds to other beds, while the bridges led to these beds. There were also two hammocks that were hanging near the tree in case they wanted to sit down and read.

There was a large bookcase as well, already stocked with little kids picture books on one side of the room. Behind the beds was what seemed to be a more open area, with large chairs and couches. A TV was there- although you couldn't see a remote. There were more toys over here with boxes full of huge lego blocks and wooden blocks. Small toy cars and those foam mats that you had to put together like puzzle pieces.

There were also toys for a girl, and you realized now that there was a set of double doors that connected the girls room to the boys. And another door that led to the bathroom.

The biggest feature was another tree house, that was more like a club house. It was attached to the ceiling, the only access was a rock wall, as well as another ladder. A blue slide came down the other side.

There was a window seat with pictures that you hadn't looked at yet, as well as a small rocking horse. Your kids would never want anything, that was for sure.

"What do you think?" Tony asked, gesturing around.

You just gaped, taking in everything. "I'm thinking, 'where was this when I was a kid'."

Tony chuckled.

You looked at the pictures by the window seat and started to laugh, "I love these!"

They were different superheroes with positive phrases on them. Although, it was a bit disconcerting to see a DC character among your Marvel husbands- and the kid of course. Not to mention an X-man.

"Although," You finally said, taking a look around the room, "There's no crib."

"Oh right." Tony said, leading you out of that room.

"There's another room?" You asked with surprise.

"Yep!" Tony said, "Don't worry though, this is the simple nursery."

He opened a door opposite the other two rooms and led you inside. True to his word, it was much simpler, and definitely more calming than the other rooms.

It was mostly white, though there was some black and light blues tossed in there. There was a love seat for you to sit on, lots of pillows, carpets, blankets, and rugs. There were quite a few stuffed animals everywhere as well, along with a few picture books.

It was a much smaller room, probably only a quarter of the boys room. It was divided into two half- rooms. One was obviously where you would play with the kids, and the other was where they would lay down to take a nap. There was also a light, wood changing table in the back corner, right near the black crib. There was a white fringe crib mobile above it. A rocking horse to the side.

"Oh Tony. . ." You mumbled, leaning into his side. "I love it. I love all of it. Thank you."

Tony kissed the side of your head, "I can't wait for the kids to come. I can't wait to have even more kids, although I am sorry that you're in pain so often."

You smiled as the two of you left the bedrooms. Stephen was walking down the hall, his hands in his jean pockets. "There you two are."

"Have you seen the bedrooms?" You asked in excitement.

Stephen smiled a little, "I have. Was he to overboard?"

"No, she wants one too." Tony said, winking at you.

You laughed, "I wouldn't have minded having either bedroom when I was growing up. They both seem so fun. Although I will want to keep an eye out on the kids when they move into the jungle room."

Tony nodded, "Don't worry, we can always alter it to make it safer till they're older."

Suddenly, you felt the slightest tickle of wetness sliding down your leg. You blinked.

'Did my water just break?'

You didn't voice it aloud, afraid that you might be wrong. It certainly wasn't how they described in the books with your water splashing to the floor, spraying everyone. It was just a trickle.

"I'll be right back." You said with a smile. "I need to go to the bathroom."

"Alright, do you want to come back to our room when you're done?" Stephen asked, wrapping his arms around Tony.

You smiled, "Naturally."

Tony smirked, nudging Stephen in the ribs before you waddled upstairs to your own room.

Though you rarely slept in here, there was a calm ambience to your room. It was a very simple room, not a lot of stuff as most of your things were scattered in the several other rooms you spent your time in.

You pulled your pants and knickers down in the bathroom, trying to see if there was any clear sign that your water had broken.

Unable to tell, you pulled out your phone, searching how you could figure it out.

Seeing a suggestion, you pulled on a pair of clean knickers and laid down on your bed, setting a timer for thirty minutes. However, you could literally feel the wetness pooling in your knickers and you didn't even need to wait thirty minutes before you knew- your water had broken.

A strange nervousness, yet excitement, seemed to build up in your core. You also felt strangely calm at the same time.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y." You said. "Can you please alert Nick, T'Challa, and Bucky that my water has broken?"

"Yes Miss Marvel." F.R.I.D.A.Y. replied.

You stayed laying there, in wait.

And then you heard a yell from downstairs that sounded like it was from Bucky.

[windchimesgames]

End of Year Recap + Plans for 2024

Hey everyone!

Belated Happy New Year to everyone! I know this is a very late end of year recap 😂Unfortunately, the past week ended up much busier for me than expected, so I could only get around to doing this now that things have calmed down a little.

This is a crosspost of a public post I made on Patreon a few days ago, so if you prefer the formatting there, you can read the post at this link:

PS: I do free monthly devlogs / posts there on Patreon, so consider joining the free tier of the Patreon even if you aren't interested in the paid tiers!

For those who'd rather read the post here, I'll leave the extraordinarily long ramble in a Read More cut below!

Let's start with a quick recap of the highlights / achievements accomplished in 2023!

Okay, this one may be slightly cheating. While Emberfate only launched on Steam in Jan 2023 so the 92 positive reviews came in in the year of 2023, it was up on Itch.io since mid 2022, so not all 383 Itch.io ratings came in in 2023.

Still, I'm pretty proud of these stats! Perhaps the numbers are nothing compared to some other amazing games' out there, but it's still something I'm proud of. It makes me happy that my silly experimental nostalgic little game struck a chord in so many players — much more than I expected given how niche the topic was!

Now, unfortunately, I could not get Emberfate's DLC for Potato's route out by end of 2023 like I had hoped. Porting the game to mobile also ended up much more difficult than I expected because of just how much of the UI I'm going to have to redesign — and hence, programming to be redone — if I wanted to make the game fit a small mobile screen. So both plans are going to have to be postponed to 2024.

The other notable highlight of 2023 is that both Lyrissa's and Kierdan's routes for Reanimation Scheme were released for beta access! That put the game at 3/5 routes complete, with a total of 431,786 words for the script.

I recruited a handful of beta testers to test the three completed routes a few months ago, and so far, the feedback has been positive overall. That's been a huge relief and lifted a massive weight off my chest — due to the controversial reception of the demo, I've been extremely anxious that the game would be hated by the players, and I've done so many rounds of editing and honestly perhaps somewhat unnecessary and obsessive rewriting of the script, but none of it felt good enough 😂 So hearing the positive comments has been a huge motivation / morale booster. Perhaps I should have done beta testing sooner… LOL

There are two more achievements unrelated to a specific game project that I'd like to mention:

2023 is the year that I became more interested in and better at Ren'Py programming! Most of it is thanks to my amazing programmer friend and Ren'Py wizard, Feniks (whom you may know as the programmer for Our Life series), who sparked my interest in programming and helped teach me a LOT. While I'm by no means a professional now at coding, I feel much more comfortable navigating around Ren'Py code and setting up what I need to in the backend of the games I'm developing, which opens up new doors for me for future projects in terms of what kind of features (big or small) that I may be able to include! Though the side effect of that is I looked back at the code I did for Reanimation Scheme from previous years and was immediately horrified by how ugly and inefficient it was. 😂I did redo the backend code of the Gallery and Achievements system a bit, but the rest will just have to stay for now.

I made quite a few new connections within the indie VN dev sphere in 2023! I made a shocking discovery that there's enough number of indie VN developers from Hong Kong to fill half a minibus, and I was lucky enough to connect with them and share our experiences and learn from each other! Due to new project commissions I took on for $$$ (real life financial needs suck), as well as a couple of small game jam projects I joined as programmer to buff up my programming portfolio, I also made some new VN dev friends unexpectedly. It's been really nice, because honestly, solo dev can be a really lonely and isolating endeavor sometimes. I'm super grateful for the new connections I found myself making in 2023!

Looking Ahead: 2024

Okay, that was a lot of rambling for the recap. More than I thought I would write. Now let's move forward to what the future will look like for this studio in 2024 and what goals I'm setting for myself this year!

Priority #1: Finishing Reanimation Scheme

Of course it's Reanimation Scheme. As mentioned above, we're currently at 3 out of 5 routes completed (sans partial voice acting). So the biggest goal for 2024 will be to get the game done. and out. Finally.

I won't be giving a concrete release date until we're like, literally in beta phase for all 5 routes, just so I won't have to announce a delay and let people down. But given the current progress and pace of work, I'd say probably around mid-year — maybe Q3 latest.

I'll be keeping up with the episodic updates of Reanimation Scheme's beta build on Patreon (and Kickstarter) from this month onwards, beginning with Jori's route and then followed by Sebastien's.

The remaining Kickstarter rewards may take a little longer — but ideally, all of them (artbook / lorebook / short stories collections, etc.) will be done by end of the year as well.

Priority #2: Potato's Route DLC for Emberfate

Potato, poor Potato. His DLC had to be put on the sidelines until Reanimation Scheme is done.

Half of the art has already been commissioned and completed by the amazing Remnantation — we're just missing his selfie CG & his MMO character sprite! So the next step would be the script and then the voice acting for the calls part. I won't be able to start on the script until mid-2024 earliest, but given the fact that his route won't be that long if it's parallel in length compared to the existing three routes, it probably won't take too long to do. Perhaps 2-3 months for the development process of the DLC?

I'll likely be releasing his DLC early on Patreon, potentially also episodically as it's completed, like I did with Emberfate. So if you're interested, keep an eye out for it when the time comes!

Something Secretly Brewing in the Shadows?

If you're pledged to this Patreon on $10 tier or above, you'll probably already know what I'm alluding to.

I won't be announcing or talking much about this for now, since I don't know when I'll be able to start working on this project properly (i.e. I need to meet my above two goals first). For all I know, it might end up being not a 2024 thing but a 2025 thing. So I'll only tease it slightly for now here.

Bonus Goal: Market, for the Love of God

If you follow Wind Chimes Games on either Twitter or Tumblr, you'll probably have noticed the sorry state of my social media. I… really do not like marketing or posting on social media. I never know what to post or say. I'm too unfunny and uncreative to meme or write humorous captions that get engagement. 😂It kind of feels like I'm shouting into the void, and nobody really cares about what I have to say on my projects when there's so many cooler and more interesting things out there. So I always try for a brief period of time, and then I give up 😭

This year though, I really really need to take marketing more seriously. With two releases planned for 2024, marketing is going to be important if I want the games to sell more than like 20 copies LOL

So I guess, uh, hold me to it and call me out if I don't start posting regularly after all 🥹

Conclusion

If you've made it this far on this post, thank you so much for listening to me ramble. 🥹 2024 is going to be a very busy year, but hopefully, a productive one that will end with me meeting all of the above listed goals.

Thank you so much for joining me on the wild and bumpy journey that was 2023, and I hope you'll stick around for the exciting things to come this year too! Here's to a great year ahead of all of us!

[sangyeonsmuse]

BUTTON EYES

Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | All Chapters

PAIRING | OT8, MC SEONGHWA

WORDS| 1.3K

GENRE | Coraline au, angst, suspense,

SUMMARY | What happens when Seonghwa returns to the home he was once fond of as a child? This time around making his return as a full adult with the company of friends. Nightmares and old friends return and the button eyes that Seonghwa desperately escaped as a child have returned to haunt he and his friends.

WARNING | Graphic descriptions, mentions of death, ghost children, witchcraft, grsphic nightmares, arson, lost memories

MORE | Based on the childrens novel & Henry Selick film Coraline

Before i go any further i want it to be known i am in no way claiming Coraline as my own. I wrote a concept for a part 2 or spinoff long ago and I just felt that it was time to finally put it to use. I do not own Ateez or any Coraline named Characters in this story but the Storyline is indeed a self made one.

For a while they all sat in silence gathered by the fire place. When the three of them decided to move in with seonghwa none of them had been aware that they would be getting themselves into something like this. It all freaked them out, well all except Jongho who still didn't even believe the little ghost girl was even real.

"So?'' Jongho spoke up breaking the silence.

"Hongjoong" Yeosang calls out to him as if asking him to finally start explaining to them what was going on.

A sigh spilled from his lips and he took a seat in front of the fireplace before he began.

"It started with an old necklace I found in my grandma's house. When I found it I had asked her about it but she didn't really say much at first. I remember bothering her the entire day and whining for her to tell me. At some point she got tired of me whining about it and she said she would tell me all about it under the condition that I bring the food she had made to Seonghwas grandmother. Since she had just moved in a few months prior my grandmother and yours were quite familiar with one another so I was used to it, but I wasn't expecting to see you and your parents there. You were a curious kid back then and honestly I also thought you to be a little weird running around in your astronaut suit. Your grandmother convinced me to play with you by bribing me with cupcakes and by the end of that day we had become great friends but it didn't prepare me for what I'd be dealing with having become friends with you. When I returned home My granda finally sat me down and told me about the necklace. It had belonged to her sister before she passed away in the woods near the manor. She said one day her and her sister had been playing in the old playground and her sister just found it and claimed that it was hers. I couldn't believe this because when I myself had found the necklace it didn't say any other name but yours. So without grandma knowing I took the necklace and gave it to you and well thats when things got weird. After a week or so you wouldn't come around to grandmas as much and the only times i'd see you were the occasional visits to give your grandma Coraline food, or when i'd catch you frequenting Mr. forcible and Mrs. Spinks place.''

Both Wooyoung and Sans eyes widened at the mentions of their own grandmothers all of a sudden.

"You knew our grandmothers?" Wooyoung asked pearing at Seonghwa who hadn't had a clue about any of the details Hongjoong was speaking of.

"He knew them both, Yeosangs grandfather too, they all are well aware of why Seonghwa was forbidden to come back.'' Hongjoong continued on, glaring at the two boys as a warning to let him finish.

"At some point your grandma grew worried for you, we all did, as the months went by you started to look so sick, like something had been ripping away your energy day by day. I remember asking you about it and you got so defensive. 'The other Hongjoong is so much better, less noisy than you'. That's what you said to me. I didn't understand and it hurt me so much that I went back home to grandma and told her I no longer wanted to be the one to bring the food, but of course she made me go anyway. Your grandma had told me you had been cooped up in your room and hadn't come out. She pleaded with me to get you to come down and play but when I went up you werent there. I looked all over the entire house for you yet you were nowhere to be found. I had been on my way out the door when I found you out in the hallway talking to a cat, you claimed he could speak to you, claimed that the two of you could travel to this magical world with colorful walls and toys, a table aligned with sweets.'' this sentence caused Seonghwas ears to perk up as the scene he described was familiar to him, he had dreamt it.

"I thought maybe your imagination was just far better than mine since you were able to think up all of this and think it to be real. You even went as far as saying there was a woman in black that would feed you, read to you, play games with you and at that point I thought maybe you had just become delusional. You told me that I was free to visit with you one night and that 'mama said all children are welcome' and it felt off to me. That same day when nightfall came there was a tapping at my window and I found the cat outside. I turned back to go to sleep but he wouldnt let me. He just kept tapping at the window. When I got out of bed and opened the window to shoo him away he simply sat there for a while before turning away and waiting for me to follow. Me being a curious child at such an age found myself following him deep into the woods and of course it creeped me the fuck out walking through the dark woods alone I mean you've seen them you know how creepy they are. I found you there at the playground burying something but it didn't occur to me that it'd be the necklace. When i started to approach you this- this woman appeared out of nowhere and she attacked you I didn't know what to do so I- I just lunged at her and god she put up a fight. When she grabbed you by the neck and I realized that you were losing consciousness I did the only thing I thought to do and I bit her. She vanished and for a while we both just sat there. I convinced you to tell me everything that you had been experiencing since arriving at the house. To this day I still don't know who the woman was nor do I know why you were suddenly admitting to having seen little ghost children running around but it freaked me out nonetheless and you were shaken to the core. I remember the next day your parents had arrived to drag you away, but before they left they paid a visit to Woo and Sans grandmother. That's all I remember of that summer..whatever it was that you had seen, whatever the things you had dealt with...they scarred you badly. Your grandma asked me to never speak of it again if you ever returned and I promised her I wouldn't speak a word of it.'' The room fell silent, no one knew what to say after hearing the story and in all honesty it made many of them fearful to even be in the house in that moment.

At this point the sun had been setting and none of them had gotten any sleep, knowing the events that occurred in this house neither of them had the guts to fall asleep there, well none aside from Jongho.

"Something doesn't sit right with me about any of this.'' Yeosang sat staring at the fire, listening as the wood crackled softly.

"Your grandfather...your grandfather told me something. I think you thought it was the Schizo talking, but he tried to warn me about this house. He said that she was here waiting somewhere and the children never left? But I don't I don't know what the fuck it means I don't know what any of this has to do with me.'' Seonghwa sighs and rests his face in the palm of his hands.

"I think, I think we know someone that may know something.'' Wooyoung and san shared a glance before looking back at Seonghwa

[clunelover]

I love my BFF so much, but we had a convo a few weeks ago that got me very emo and I still haven't quite recovered.

She was talking about how she's thinking more and more about shifting into private practice, and how between the flexible schedule that could give her, plus her husband now exclusively working as a dog sitter/walker, also flexible, and her parents being willing to help a lot with childcare, they probably won't have to put their baby in daycare at all.

I think this is AWESOME. And she's been private-practice-curious for a couple years now, and probably would've already made the jump if not for being pregnant, or trying to get pregnant, for so long and needing solid insurance. I have known even before she did that it would be a situation where, once you get a taste of that money + scheduling freedom, you'll never go back. So none of this is surprising to me -- all good!!!

Her parents, however, for as many awesome qualities as they have (and they really are awesome, I love them so much and wish they could be my parents, or in particular I wish her dad could be my dad), are unhealthily tied to the ideal of productivity. Her dad is a farmer and her mom was an ADA. They have both worked HARD, forever. They have definitely assigned morality to one's job status. It goes a long way to explaining why BFF finished college a year early and has almost always worked at least two jobs, even if she didn't strictly need to.

So, that's all background to a couple weeks ago, BFF had told her mom that her husband was not going back to his part time office job at all, and would only do dog gigs. Her mom freaked out way too much about this. They moved past it, but BFF was very much still smarting over it. She started recounting to me what her mom said, and what she thought about what her mom said, and then some general thoughts about the merits of daycare vs. no daycare - and I realize that what was really happening is, she was replaying the fight with her mom, and talking to her mom and not actually to me. BUT it was jumbled up enough that I did think she was talking more TO me (plus, like...she literally was? Talking to me?)

And I was nodding along and you-go-girling, until she said some things like "I wanted to have a baby for so long, and now I finally do, so why would I go through all this time and heartache to get her here, only to stick her in daycare all day?" ...again, now that I know she didn't mean that at ME, I can kinda swallow it, but it was hard not to think "oh yeah, so I had a baby quickly, so I guess I didn't want the baby as much? And so that's why I didn't care about 'sticking them in daycare all day'??"

The other offending comment was "I know lots of people do have to send their kids to daycare!" (which to me implies, the only reason you'd make such a horrible choice is if you HAD to).

In the moment I just cried and couldn't say much coherent other than "you can say these things without having to bash daycare."

I just drove home crying and replaying it...it wasn't til I got home that I grasped just how much she wasn't even talking to me - like, at one point she said "and you were lucky enough to be able to afford daycare for three kids" and in the moment I just thought "huh? I only have two kids" but then later I put that together - her MOM has three kids.

She texted to apologize and confirmed that she just got in a rant and couldn't stop. I've seen her at least once since then and it was all good. But I think she has this underlying thought still that she can't talk about her choices now without worrying about offending me and making me think she's condemning my choices, when it's not actually about me at all! But it's hard to explain that I am actually pretty receptive to statements like "I'd rather configure my schedule so my husband and I can take turns with the baby" or even "I don't want to send her to daycare" as long as they don't veer so far into judgment about daycare and the people who "have to" send their kids there.

IDK I don't think I'll bring it up tho, unless it comes up naturally. There's just too much risk I'll stumble over my words and start crying and make it worse.

Also this horrible conversation was part of what made me really start looking at the idea of me eventually stopping working. She was saying something about their budget changing, but that "there is no number"- i.e. no amount of additional income that would make it "worth" sending the baby to daycare - and that made me realize that there's no number for me either - no amount of extra income that makes the logistical realities of two kids and two full times jobs more manageable.

So...all's well that ends well hopefully.

[thetruearchmagos]

15 OC Questions!

Thank you kindly @theprissythumbelina for the Tag!

You mentioned my MCs, but I wouldn't say I have any considering how I do the whole writing thing. So, for the sake of actually having something to talk about, I'll go with Gustav J. Schmidt, specifically in his post-Wars iteration.

1. Are you named after anyone? No, no, I don't believe so. 2. When was the last time you cried? Last week, and I'm not afraid to say it. We'd just wrapped a memorial, you see, and that night I suppose it all washed over me, as strong as ever. It was, nice, and at least I had Higgs with me... 3. Do you have kids? Oh, no, none at all! But, well, I've always... that is to say, we're not old crows yet, if you get my meaning! 4. Do you use sarcasm a lot? Too often, and yet at the same time not enough. 5. What’s the first thing you notice about people? How they dress, followed by how they walk. 6. What’s your eye color? Blue like clear skies, and as sharp as they were a decade ago. 7. Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings, any time. Never quite understood the appeal of horror, once you've seen enough of the real stuff cheap gore is soft stuff. 8. Any special talents? I'll have you know I played for the Army team at the Services Billiards Tourney for three years straight when I was a Captain at GSI, and we won the whole run! Oh, those were the days... 9. Where were you born? Well, that is for me to know, and for you, not to. 10. What are your hobbies? Well, these days I've finally found the time to polish off some old writing I left unfinished back at GSI- the General Staff Institute, that is. It's work, but the sort I for the passion of it more than anything else. 11. Have you any pets? Never could stand animals, myself. We had Ol' Sarge Scalie back in Shatihab, the Corps mascot, but I left him in the care of the veterinary folks as much as possible. Cute creature for a desert lizard, but acidic bile never had a place in my tent. 12. What sports do you play/have played? My old Colonel put me on the Battalion rugby team for a game, and that accounts for the sum total of my sporting career. Damn near broke my back that day... 13. How tall are you? Oh, last I checked I was fifteen short of two metres, which isn't much less than when I commissioned. The difference being that I was considered lanky at 19, and now decidedly less so. 14. Favorite subject in school? Oh, I adored history! Majored in it at Northrop, and whenever I was out of field work I tried to get sent somewhere academic to get more of it. Military history, for the most part, though I suppose that comes with the uniform. 15. Dream job? Well, unless another war breaks out and my services find themselves in need, I'm hoping to keep where I am now. A permanent residency at GSI would be nice, or perhaps the new Combined Services Staff Institute they're opening. I've every confidence that our new officership will prove themselves to be every bit our superiors, and I'd like to help make that happen.

I, myself, will be Tagging @hessdalen-globe (For you nagging!) @athenswrites @thatndginger @avrablake @coffeexafterxmidnight and anyone who'd like to take part!

[codenameredkrystalmatrix]

Standing Sentinel

Blinding white and brilliant gold cut through the droids, putting an end to the Separatist operations on the planet. Two Zabraks raced up the outpost’s central control tower, setting charges and blowing through the opposition they faced.

The server coordinator, a very-much organic Rodian, shrieked when he saw the pair. Instead of killing him, Savage roared in his face and sent him scrambling.

"You've clearly gone soft, brother."

Savage shook his head. The The pair Force-jumped back to their ship and manned the guns.

“You took your time!” Feral dropped his visor and fired up the engines.

“Hmph. Your trial combat results clearly evidence your superiority. Now, I request your best attempt at Plo Koon’s record.”

"Yes, Commander Maul, sir!"

That statement was met with a groan. Taking off, the trio cleared the atmosphere with ships hot on their heels. A TIE-fighter glided in alongside them and gave cover fire.

“Someone rang?” Anakin’s voice came over the com-channel.

“Not in this star system!” Feral replied, smiling.

“You seem chipper, Skywalker.” Savage pivoted his battlestation hard left and disposed of two cruisers. A gunship entered the fray. Feral’s eyes narrowed, fixated on the viewport. He executed a barrel roll and swooped to avoid the fire.

“Nice! I’ll take it from here.”

Maul noticed how he loosened and beamed at the praise. Anakin’s ship effected an all-angles orbit, forming a defensive perimeter and taking enemy after enemy out of commission. They cleared the formation and made the jump into hyperspace.

At last, Chandrila and the outline of the Jedi outpost came into view. Obi-wan met them upon landing. He bade Maul speak with him privately, and his brothers peeled off to remain outside. Excited shouts filed the air as the younglings who had been outside spied them.

"Master Kenobi."

The man shook his head. Maul would not be himself without some degree of sarcasm. However, Obi-wan detected none of the true bite that would have lurked under it all those cycles ago. "Your margins of error grow slim."

"Simply the price of ascension in any order- much more so this one."

"We can send in support troops at any time. Do not hesitate to ask for what is yours by right."

"My gratitude, Kenobi. But you know the stores are better spent in recovery eff-"

"I was informed of the Garel incident."

Maul was silent. He'd spent almost a week in a bacta tank for the infections sustained. Perhaps an echo of his past life, but he'd never even considered contacting the Temple for backup or a medical supply drop. More than that, he half-expected they wouldn't. It would be an effective method of disposing of a liability. If there was one thing he could respect, it was efficiency. That made their seeming mercy all the more unsettling. Kindnesses extended themselves despite the fearful looks in some of their eyes. Despite the pain in Kenobi's even as he reached a hand to his former enemy. Those reserves of self-control were something of marvel to the Zabrak...

"How, Kenobi?"

The man’s brow arched. "The Council communication channels do have some useful information, if you'd lower yourself so much as to listen in."

Maul shook his head, the ghost of a smirk on his face. He'd let the misinterpretation stand. "I'd consider if they release an advisory on the trimming of unseemly facial hair."

"It has clearly been too long since our last duel!"

On exiting, he could see Feral and Anakin chasing the squealing children, gently Force-throwing them back and forth. Savage, expression devoid of strain, was letting some swing from his arms and sit on his shoulders. The scars of all three peeked through their robes as they flowed with the breeze. May the elders bear those marks, so the young ones did not have to.

Lying on the grass, he cast his eyes to the skyline and let himself slip- not quite meditating, but not quite conscious either. The Force bubbled with energetic pops from the little lives about. There was easy warmth from Savage that slowly bloomed in the fields of the metaphysical. He felt the relieved playfulness of Feral bounding from the remains of a fearful shell. He sensed the tumultuous roar of Anakin's fervour and Kenobi's darting, sagely mischief. And beyond them, his body sensed the dance of dozens, hundreds of the living. His weary spirit soared, reminded of for who-!

Feral flopped onto his stomach, followed by a giggling, squirming pile that knocked the air out of his body. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Savage smirk while taking a seat. Maul tried his best to scowl at the interruption.

The setting sun brought calm and appreciation for what he had now. The winds brought refreshment instead of the stench of corpses. No longer would he drift off plagued with a bloody fantasy he was not sure he'd realize.

Anakin and Obi-wan exchanged looks. He'd finally begun to see that which the Dark Side could never have given. True purpose and contentment had at last reached the brothers three. For they were now Maul, Feral and Savage Opress- Jedi Sentinels in the service of the Order and the galaxy.

[latent-sense-of-loyalty]

Ch. VII

Word count: 6790 Masterlist ¤ AO3 ¤ Ko-Fi ~ An: Im back with what I can describe as my pride and joy chapter. I honestly hope you all enjoy it, as much as I did writing it. If you want to be updated for new chapters, let me know and I will add you to the tag list! Enjoy!

It was quite ironic he thought, after everything that just transpired, that the sun would break through the clouds on a day like today. 

Aurors littered the streets, taking down witness statements, inspecting the carnage she had left behind, cleaning up whatever had been destroyed. Most notably the three broomsticks, which is where he found himself. No matter how many times he had tried to express that this was his investigation, he seemed to be surrounded by complete strangers from the office. He was fortunate enough to even inspect the bodies. 

From all the carnage, he was surprised that there were only three deceased. The two he had witnessed right before his eyes, and one from the tavern, who had been impaled by broken shrapnel from one of Sirona’s butterbeer kegs. He made sure to search them thoroughly, needing to know what kind of attack this was. A few things immediately stood out to him, most notably that there was no identification on any one of them. Each one was dressed as Aurors, yet none carried the proper badge, not even their card. Looking over their faces, what was left at least, all looked much older, possibly around his own age. Aesop would know if they worked in the office, they never took in applicants at that age. None of this was right, and the other Aurors were not saying a thing, only remarking how another vicious attack on them was not warranted. 

But if anyone here would know, it was her. 

Aesop winced as he stood, his leg nearly collapsing. He cursed himself for not taking his alleviate during all of this. He was going to be feeling this for weeks. Slowly, he limped towards the tavern keep, walking around the Auror trying to interrogate. “I'd like to have a moment with Miss Ryan if you don't mind.” His voice was sharp and gruff, Sirona able to hear the exhaustion coming through. The other officer just nodded nervously to Aesop, walking away and letting the two have some room. “I would like to speak to you privately, if you don't mind.”

She was terrible at hiding her nerves with all of this. Sirona never expected to see Lenore do any of that with her own eyes, to cast magic like that. With a nod, she led Aesop up the stairs. After the first flight she could see he was struggling, the man grunting with each step. “Lets just… talk here.” Sirona waved over a table with chairs, waiting for Aesop to take a seat. With another flick, two glasses were placed in front of them, a bottle of nearly finished Dragon Brandy, Aesop noting how her expression changed after seeing the bottle. 

After a few moments getting the pain under control, Aesop leaned in towards Sirona, his voice low. “Tell me what you know.” It came out as some kind of feral growl to Sirona, the man's eyes dangerous. She knew she could not keep covering, but Sirona also knew that if anyone were to know about her, it would be the professor she had talked about the most to her. 

“Listen… I know this looks bad on me.” Sirona took a swig from the bottle, letting the liquid scorch down her throat before continuing. “But you have to understand… from my point of view none of this seems right.” Sirona let out a sigh, letting out her hair. She needed something to sooth her through all this, and Aesop’s stare felt as if flesh was being stripped off. 

‘Damn he is good at his job.’ 

With one more swig, Sirona sat up straighter. “She showed up a couple months ago, looking nearly starved. I'd heard about everything that had taken place, trust me they don't shy away from placing wanted posters up here. I felt… bad. I thought I knew her, and seeing her that way I just felt like I couldn't do anything.” Sirona looked out over the bar, Aesop clearly seeing that this was hurting. 

“What did you mean by nothing about this seeming right?” He wanted her to stay present, and both of them knew talking about someone they once knew was easier said than done. 

“She had mentioned she was being followed. That they had sent people to hunt her down.” Sirona quickly grabbed Aesop’s shoulder, bringing his ear close. "I've never seen Aurors like them before. Almost all I have seen try to do things by the book…. But these." She could feel her shiver. "They have talked about finding her, taking her down through… unforgivable methods." 

Aesop could feel the rage begin to bubble in his chest, his grip tightening on the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white. The image flashed of her body convulsing in pain, seeing pure torture on her face. He wanted to do things to those wizards, make them pay for even thinking about hurting her in any way. It took a moment for him to gain control again, the pain in his leg somehow grounding him to reality. Before he could argue with himself, he took the brandy, pouring the remaining contents into the glass before downing it. He was not much of a drinker, more used to potions than anything, but he couldn't help flinching from the burn.

“I can't tell you where she is.” Sirona leaned away from him once more, looking over the patrons of the tavern. “Even she did not disclose that to me. All I know is that she is in the area. Something about it, she refuses to leave it behind. She told me it was one of the last things she has left. The men hunting her know it, they just can't pin her down in one place, she moves over the whole Highlands.” Aesop had realized that he had not been writing any of this down, quickly producing his notepad to write. 

“Do you know if she has in any way made contact with anyone other than you.” She could hear a tinge of desperation in his voice, Sirona raising a brow, a knowing smirk growing on her lips. 

“Everyone she knew, her close friends, the few that come here do not remember her existence. I can only assume the obvious.” Aesop knew that much already from his interviews. “But..” 

“But?” 

“But very rarely do I get an owl here, it is always addressed in a different name, but the seal on it remains the same. The last I had received one of these letters for her… probably around a couple weeks ago.” Sirona started to wring her hands nervously, a glimmer of sweat breaking on her brow. 

Aesop leaned in closer this time, his stoic cover melting away into an expression of hope and concern. Sirona already knew the question he was about to ask, motioning to the notepad and quill. Tearing off a page, he handed the quill over to Sirona, the woman quickly drawing something out for him. As she passed the slip back, Aesop felt that anger grow again, his teeth grinding together in a frustrated rage. 

He could not comprehend why anyone would live in an area like this. Aesop was not the most cheerful man at times, but even he could not live in such a depressing landscape as this. His fist pounded on the old black door, the sound echoing through the manor. Nothing had quelled his frustration on the days it took to travel here. If there was one thing Aesop truly despised, it was being lied to, and he was not going to leave now without some kind of answer. 

The same ancient house elf from before opened the door slowly, shocked to even see the Auror. Before it could speak, he held his badge up.

“Ominis Gaunt, I need to speak with him. Now.” The coldness of Aesop’s voice made the elf shiver in place, eyes shifting back and forth with increased nervousness. 

“I-I’m sorry, but master Gaunt is-” 

“Danry. You can go.” A familiar voice called out as Aesop pushed past, seeing the boy sitting in the same room as before, alone. Ominous moved his head towards the direction of the Auror, his face more solemn than the last he had seen him. With a sigh, he stood, producing his wand. “Follow me professor, I wish us not to be heard.” Without waiting for a response, Ominous began walking the opposite direction of the man, Aesop quickly limping up to speed with the boy. 

Soon enough, Aesop found him and Ominis outside of the estate, walking through the large back garden of the home. Just like the front, everything was overgrown, uncared for. Many of the different shrubberies and foliage were in different states of decay, the frost taking the last of what life remained. For a few minutes, Aesop just followed in silence, trying his best to keep his mind calm, but the memory of seeing her eyes, the men doing what they could to harm her, that anxiety permeated everything. Ominis finally slowed his pace, the two now in a small sitting area, a rotted bench overlooking a small pond in the process of slowly freezing over. Ominous sat down, his sigh fogging the air before him. 

“You found out about the notes, didnt you.” From his tone, it was less of a question and more of a matter of fact statement, Aesop moving sit beside him. 

“Why did you lie to me? Did you think I would not have found out? Or anyone else for that matter?” Already, his patience was waning. 

“I had my complete trust in Sirona, she had helped Lenore and I before, and it was the safest way of talking with her, knowing she was safe.” Ominous shifted in his seat, his face changing to one of worry. “But it has been weeks. Hearing about the attack in Hogsmeade, I assumed the worst.” 

“I was there…” Aesop looked out over the garden, Ominous turning to him in surprise. 

“Is she.. Was she..” He couldn't comprehend the thought of something happening to her, his breathing haltered in wait for the professor’s response. 

Aesop sighed, moving his hair from his face. “She has been taking polyjuice potion to keep herself hidden in public, Sirona assisting.” The sigh of relief from Ominis almost made Aesop chuckle, instead just shaking his head. “The men hunting her had caught on to the antic however. I saw her apparate before any damage could be done. She is still safe for now.” 

“Thank Merlin…” the pang of jealousy suddenly struck Aesop again, seeing how much the boy beside him cared, how he was the only one she kept in contact with. The pause in conversation must have tipped him off, a smirk on Gaunt's face. 

“No…. before you assume such… no.” Ominous could not help but chuckle at the Auror’s assumptions. “Even if I was inclined… her feelings were far from me. But you would already know that, wouldn't you.” Aesop was not expecting such an assumption, his breath catching in his throat, sputtering for a moment as Ominis laughed beside him. 

“Come now professor, do not pretend that you think I did not know what happened. Between you two, how she has come to admire you and feel.” 

“That…. That is far from what is important right now.” Sharp’s face was burning in embarrassment, needing to somehow regain control of the conversation once more. “A-Anyways, what matters is why you withheld that information.” 

Ominis sat for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek. “I…. I had been thinking you were with them,” Head bowing down, he continued, “With what she had told me, describing the kind of men hunting her, I had felt you would do the same as them professor. But, I was mistaken.” Ominis turned his head to the professor once more. “I apologise. I can see now that both of our interests are the same. That you still… feel” Aesop felt that warmth again, clearing his throat. 

“What do you know about them ?” Aesop finally felt that glimmer of progress in all of this chaos. A step in the proper direction, one that would hopefully lead to her. Ominis moved closer to the man, his voice lowering. 

“From what I have researched on my own, and from what I have heard, You probably already know this but nearly none of the wizards hunting her down are Aurors. I had overheard my father talking with someone about recruiting some wizards he knew for a job… one of them being part of the Renier family.” Aesop could not produce his notes fast enough, writing what he could down. “They have been hired to take her in by any means necessary to Azkaban. From what knowledge I have, usually they are to be detained in the Ministry first.” 

“I will agree with you on that, Gaunt. Unless stated otherwise.” His tone was tense, and he could not tell if his hand was shaking from the chill, or from what he was hearing. 

“All I know now is that all official Aurors have been barred from investigating the case, all except you.” His voice drifted off for a moment, swallowing nervously before continuing. “She knows nothing about you trying to find her. Only that she has to take care of the rest. Something whispers to her, urges her to do something, but she won't even tell me. She becomes afraid.” They both sat in silence for a moment, just letting the cold wince rustle the trees and bushes around them. 

“Where is she?” Aesop’s voice was pleading to Ominis, all writing ceased as he looked at the boy, his own worry reflected on Ominis’s face. “I need to know Ominis, for her sake. I promised you before, and I swear to you again, I don't want her harmed, I-” 

“You love her… don't you?” 

Aesop could not respond, but his heart betrayed him. Ominis could hear it clearly through the noise of everything around them. It accelerated, almost like fluttering wings. It made him smile, happy to know that Lenore had someone out there truly caring for her like him. 

“Don't worry, I already know your answer.” Ominis stood, the bench creaking with the shifting weight. “The notes have been burned, wanting to make sure there was no paper trail left in case they found out about me. As if they would ever try,” Ominis scoffed, walking away from Aesop. He quickly followed, both slowly going back to the manor. “I know mostly what you know, she is keeping herself close to Hogwarts. She says the proximity helps with the whispers in her mind.” 

They twisted and turned through the hedges around them, Aesop already getting lost. He was thankful that he had taken his alleviate. 

“She… had a room here. I always kept one around for her since she was here frequently. It has not been touched since she left.” Ominis turned to Aesop, his face tense. “If you wish, you can look through the room… All I ask is that you dont disturb it too much… It is the last memory I have of her for now. I like to keep hope.” 

Aesop was more than thankful to Ominis, happy to finally have something that could give him more insite. They both made their way back to the manor, Ominis leading him to the room. Aesop had noticed there was no sight of the other members of the Gaunt family, the old manor feeling eerily empty to him.

 Once they had both arrived at the door, Ominis waved his wand. “Enchanted lock, just in case Sebastian stumbled across here. Hard enough to keep him out of anything” The comment made Aesop snort in amusement, remembering the days where he had caught the boy more than once sneaking around at night to the library. Before Ominis could leave, Aesop gently grasped his shoulder, Ominis turning his head towards the man. 

“Ominis… Thank you. If I do find anything, I will let you know.” Ominis nodded in response, turning to leave. 

“I should be thanking you. They made the mistake of asking the man she loves to track her down.” Aesop could barely think of a response before he watched Ominis leave, leaving Sharp to stew in his thoughts. 

Aesop’s hand hovered over the old brass knob, his stomach churning. He did not know what he would see. Even with all that, the thought of going into somewhere that was her personal quarters felt strangely intimate to him, the irony clear to him with all the times she had come to visit him. Slowly, as if the door would burn him, he gently turned the knob, stepping over the threshold into her room. 

To his shock, it was more organized than he had expected, apart from the desk which had pages scattered everywhere, the rubbish bin overflowing with crumpled paper. The ornate bed was unkempt, the heavy black blanket and sheets still crumpled as if she had just slept in them. Portraits of different Gaunt family members were hung around the room, some covered by different robes and shirts. He could not help but chuckle. Aesop remembered her reaction to his reasoning on why he covered some, the thought of all those eyes on her probably sinking in. Shaking his head, he tried his best to remain on task, beginning his search of the room. 

It was more of a struggle than he thought it would be. The scent of her surrounding him, the longing pain in his chest only growing the more he looked over her things. It was the closest he had been to her in the past few years. There were no clothes left behind other than the few strewn over the portraits. His only luck would be something on the chaotic desk in the corner. As he approached, immediately his eye caught on a symbol drawn on different pieces of parchment over and over, ornate gates surrounding each one. Scribbled all over the parchment were strange runes and writings in a language he was not familiar with, these same phrases written on every parchment that featured the sigil. He folded a few of the drawings, placing them in his chest pocket. Searching around more, his eye was caught by two things swamped underneath all the scribblings. A dark leather notebook and one that was in ornate gold, Snakes circling each other in between roses. 

He decided to open the leatherbound book first, shocked to see dated journal entries going as far as her beginning in Hogwarts. As he skimmed through the pages, he could see how she recounted everything that took place between her and Ranrok, going into the sixth and seventh year. A few names stuck out in his mind in the beginning; Sebastian…Anne…Ominis… the curses. But before he could delve more into what they meant, he saw his own name. His heart pounded in his ears as he began rapidly flipping through the pages, his name mentioned more and more about their time together, until it began to recount in depth during her seventh year, every single detail of their meetings. Aesop quickly shut the book, not wanting to get himself more flustered just yet. He would inspect its contents more away from here. 

His attention then went to the gold book. As he picked it up, he was surprised to feel how heavy it was. A gold wheel clasp kept it close, a wave of Aesop's wand quickly turning it opened.  To his utter surprise, he realized it was not a book at all, but a frame. Slowly he sank down into the chair facing the desk, his whole body shaking at its contents. 

 The left side of the frame showed a moving portrait. Sebastian Sallow and Ominis Gaunt stood behind a chair, Sebastian fussing over Ominis’s dress robes before being elbowed to focus on the portrait, Ominis doing his best to hide a chuckle as he linked his arm through the others. But his eyes were drawn to the woman sitting in front of them. 

Lenore sat down before them, poised perfectly. She was dressed in beautiful finery, making Aesop’s heart tighten as the memories began to flood back. He could see her hearing the commotion behind her, a large smile followed by what he assumed was laughter as she tried to stay serious. The sight of seeing her so purely happy, that smile, drew out his own. Aesop’s fingers traced over the portrait, reveling in how happy she was, until something fell to his lap. As his eyes drifted down, he could feel his entire body freeze, heart leaping from his chest into his throat as he began shaking. Slowly his hand picked up the fragile object, his smile growing as he fought the tears threatening to spill over his weathered face. 

The red carnation… the one he gave to her that night. 

—

December 25, 1892

Aesop wished he was anywhere else but here. This whole thing seemed so macabre to him. It had been years since the Triwizard Tournament had been held. Yet, much to his surprise, they still wanted to hold the Yule Ball. ‘In memory of those we lost.” was their usual excuse, Aesop only scoffing. The thought of holding such a ball to try to remember students who perished was an idea of idiocy to him. 

But there he was, in his dress robes, standing in the back of the great hall, chaperoning much to his dismay. 

The entire event had been planned from the start of the year, Hogwarts hosting the ball after years of it being held at Beauxbatons. Even in the past month it was nothing short of chaos, students from both Beauxbatons and Durmstrang filtering in to take part in the festivities. Hogsmeade was now unbearable to walk through, students flooding the streets in hopes to get the best dress and robes for the occasion. Aesop was lucky enough to have something close to formal stuffed away in his luggage. He dreaded the event, but he had to admit, everything did turn out in spectacular fashion. 

The great hall itself looked to be made into some kind of enchanted forest. From what he remembered from the multiple faculty meetings. It had been the job of Professor Garlik and Shah to oversee the theme of the event. To his amazement, they had gone above and beyond. 

The entire ceiling of the hall was a sea of stars, galaxies and nebulas providing wonderful splashes of colour. He had even noticed a few shooting stars, amazed how Shah was able to produce such an image. Yet, it was Garlik who really stole the show in his eyes.  Throughout the room there were multiple floating lanterns, replacing the usual candles. The gargoyles and pillars had all been replaced with willow like trees, the hanging bows seemingly crystalized. Between each one were crystal garlands, each one with shimmering adornments hanging. Every Time they caught the light, it would make shimmering rainbows throughout the room. To say he was impressed was an understatement. 

The ball had been well underway, the beginning dance held by the head boy and girl from each house. Aesop could hear Matilda’s excitement as she bragged about teaching them all the steps. Honestly, until now, Aesop had not even known that Professor Weasley was a dancer. Honestly, for such a ridiculous spectacle, everything was looking pretty spectacular here. Not that he could do any better, anything like this was so far out of his field. He definitely was not a formal event kind of man. 

Aesop decided to quit being a wallflower, making his way around the room. On the occasion, he separated a few students getting a little too close to each other. He never understood how events like this could get people so… heated.  The few times Emrik had taken him out to events like this with his other friends, Aesop was nothing short of uncomfortable, rarely talking or dancing with anyone. At least now he had the excuse of his leg. He wished he could be back in his room, taking in his ink and parchment than inspecting hormonal students. He kept telling himself if he could stick it out for another hour, they would not need his assistance anymore. 

Aesop kept weaving through the crowd of students, some going down to sit at the tables, others heading to the dancefloor. He could hear a few students complementing his wardrobe, Aesop just rolling his eyes as he did his best to ignore them. But as he started to return to his original post, he heard her name being called from a student. As he turned to look, he felt the entire world around him freeze. 

Lenore entered the great hall, following Sebastian and Ominis, who had entered together with their arms linked, earning a few cheers from fellow students. But he could only see her as everything else fell away. 

Her hair had been perfectly sculpted on her head, different swirls intermingling with each other to show her stunning face. He could only assume one of the students helped her apply light rouge, her cheeks glowing with a light blush. It was her dress that made his heart hammer in his chest. The dress was a complimentary off-white, trailing behind her, a black bow following the back. Her shoulders and bodice were accented by delicate pearls.

 Compared to all the other bombastic dresses, she looked like an angel. 

He did not notice when his eyes fell back on her face, that she was staring back at him, her eyes also wide with wonderment, or shock, he could not exactly tell. All he knew right now was that the room was getting very warm, Aesop fiddling with the collar of his shirt to try and loosen it. 

After her entrance, Aesop tried everything he possibly could to keep his distance, watching occasionally how she laughed with her friends. Natsai had been able to steal a dance from Sebastian, coming back to admire Lenore’s pearls. He had noticed a few men, particularly Weasley and Prewitt, trying to dance with her, but Lenore mostly sat with Ominis, before finally, he two had been stolen away for a dance by Mr. Sallow. He could tell she was uncomfortable, mentioning more than once during her visits that she never liked large crowds. But seeing her here, looking like that, Aesop was not going to lie to himself and say he wished she was not here. 

Aesop had not realised how much time had passed until he looked at his pocket watch. It seemed the hour time limit he had given himself had turned to two. He had been in conversation with Professor Garlik, who had been giving him the step by step guide on how to properly crystalize certain foliage, when he noticed Lenore get up, her face strained as she quickly started to leave. 

“Sharp, are you alright?” Garlik’s voice bringing him back. With a swift hug and thank you, he excused himself, curious as to what had happened with her. 

Bringing his flask to his lips, he sipped his alleviate, making his way out of the great hall. He was only able to see the doors to the courtyard close, following suit. As he stepped out into the cold night air, he felt a snowflake fall to his cheek, then another. The entire courtyard had a thin layer of slow, and luckily for him, footsteps leading to the staircase towards the viaduct bridge. Slowly, he followed, now just able to see her figure walking down the steps, the lanterns catching the shimmer of her dress. 

For a moment, Aesop just watched, hesitating. He was sure that following her was not the best idea, if anyone were to see the two, even just talking, who knows what kind of stories would be spun. But as he was about to turn away, something in his heart ached, and like being pulled by an invisible rope, he made his way down the stairs, following her footsteps in the snow. 

Much to his surprise, they had both ended up in the Quad Courtyard, the music still able to be heard, but much more distant now. Lenore was standing in front of the Serpent Dragon statue, her back to him. He was amazed she was not already shivering from the cold, the light from the lanterns casting a gleam on her flushed skin. He slowly walked toward her, the sound of his footsteps in the snow alerting her to his presence, making her jump. Aesop, without thinking, quickly put his hands up. 

“I-I’m sorry, I just saw you leaving in a hurry and was worried you were sick or something happened.” He cleared his throat, unsure why he sounded so.. Nervous? He noticed Lenore relax her shoulders at the sight of him, a soft smile gracing her lips. 

“No it is alright Professor, I am fine.” Her hands clasped in front of her, shoulders tensing slightly. “You know.. Just not one for big crowds like this.” Aesop could not help but chuckle, slowly sidling up towards Lenore, standing beside her. 

“I'm sure it will be no surprise, but neither am I.” They both laughed lightly together that time, Aesop noticing Lenore was much more at ease now. Looking around, he noticed that the courtyard was entirely empty, apart from the two of them. The only other voices and sounds were the faint laughter and music from the ball. 

“I'm shocked, Professor Sharp!” Lenore feigned surprise, her hand dramatically moving to her chest. “I for one thought you were the kind of man to revel in these events! A true debonair” Lenore’s giggling filled the courtyard, Aesop unable to keep the smile away from his lips. He adored her laughter, remembering how it had taken over a year since the incidents of her fifth year to hear it once more. He could not help but roll his eyes at her, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous expression Lenore had never seen before, but the sight made her tremble slightly. 

“For your information, Miss Arkanos, even before my leg was injured, I had been known to be quite the dancer.” He was not lying really, the few parties that Emrik had dragged him to, he had danced with a few women. To say they were left breathless by the end was an understatement, Aesop needing to literally hide from them by the end of the evening. 

The expression on Lenore’s face showed she was unconvinced, her brow arched curiously. “Really… the stern, gruff Professor Sharp is a known dancer?” For a moment there was silence between them, before they both broke into a fit of laughter together, taking a seat beside each other at the statue to rest. They both found them conversing about the ball, Aesop sharing his distaste for hosting a ball for an event like this. Lenore seemed to agree, though sharing it was good to see her fellow classmates having an excuse to have fun. 

“I must admit, I do enjoy getting a little fancied up, it is my first ball after all.” Lenore could not help the creeping blush as Aesop looked her over once more, his eyes making her shiver. When her eyes met his again, she swore her heart stopped. 

“You…. You look beautiful.” His voice was barely above a whisper, Lenore melting at his words as another shiver travelled through her. 

Lenore knew what she was about to ask could be possibly the worst decision of her entire life, but as they just looked at each other, a strange surge of bravery took over. From their time together, Professor Sharp taking care of her after the poacher incident, introducing her to his art, the two trying their best to experiment with cures for his leg, Lenore felt if she could not be brave now, there would never be a chance. Straightening her back, she cleared her throat, the violins starting a new piece adding to her courage. 

“Professor… um… I know this will seem strange but, I know tonight will never happen again, and I just..” 

Aesop could feel his skin tingling, that suffocating warmth coming over him as he looked at her, leaning into her words. 

“I just want to have something away from all of the noise and people, and with you here. Professor…” 

“Will you dance with me?” 

It was Aesop to complete the question, Lenore’s eyes wide with shock as she stopped breathing for a moment. For a moment Lenore couldn't speak, her breathing becoming rapid as she stood nervously. 

“On… one condition.” Lenore tried her best to not sound so nervous, convincing herself her voice shook from the cold. Yet she could not deny how warm she felt. 

Aesop stood with her, taking a step towards her so that they were only a foot apart. His raised eyebrow was enough of a sign to let Lenore continue. 

“I want this to be something… special. I… feel something between us, and I don't want it to be tainted by who we are now…” He could tell she was scared to go on, he could feel that fear grip him two. They weren't stupid, they both knew there was something they were not addressing. Both had tried to suffocate any sort of attraction or feeling after that night he brought her back to heal. Yet, the moments they were alone, they both caught each other staring, the shock of their hands accidentally grazing eachother, the tension of their close proximity. They both knew of the risk, his age, her being a student, and they kept that respect, but this moment here, something in him shuddered and broke. 

Aesop knew this was one chance, one moment, he did not want to slip by. 

He nodded for her to continue, taking another step closer. 

“For tonight… in this moment… I want this to be like the stories I have heard, you know, those corny ones.” He could not help but chuckle lowly as he saw her shoulders soften. 

“I want tonight to be the night we met. I want to remember it that way.” 

For a moment he paused, letting her words sink in. To forget about everything they were now, to just have it between her and him, away from the school. It sounded like a dream to him. With the rest of any resistance melting away, he smiled down at her, giving a bow. 

“May I have this dance, Miss…?” 

“Lenore..” She spoke through her growing smile, her heart skipped a beat as he slowly, gently, reached for her hand. 

“Lenore.” It was the first he had spoken her name, the feeling of her name on his lips was one he couldn't describe. Lenore’s breath caught in her throat as his eyes locked to hers, his lips meeting her knuckles in a chaste kiss, facial hair tickling her hand. 

“Aesop.” She whispered against her hand, straightening as he closed the distance between the two, his other hand snaking around her waist as he held the one he kissed outwards. Lenore’ free hand moved to his back, Aesop feeling her warmth brand his skin. 

“Aesop…” Lenore repeated in a whisper, and as the distant music swelled, they began to waltz. 

Their eyes never left each other as they danced through the courtyard, the music flowing between them as they kept in perfect time with each other. Aesop was more than impressed with her ability to keep in time, holding onto her more tightly. At a point Lenore felt him let go, twirling her underneath his arm before sweeping her up again, her excited laugh only spurring him onwards. Neither of them looked away, reflecting each other's smiles. His body felt strong against hers, the warmth all but dissipating any kind of cold from the winter air. 

They continued to dance as the music slowed, the two of them following. Without thinking, Lenore’s head rested against Aesop’s chest, the man taking in a sharp breath at how close she was. It all felt so perfect, like a dream. All that mattered was that she was here, in this moment. 

Aesop realised something in that moment. Something that shot daggers into his chest as their dance slowed to a stop. 

He could not lose her. 

As she lifted her head, their faces mere inches apart as the clouds from their breath intertwined, they both jumped at the noise coming from the viaduct entrance. Quickly, Aesop grabbed Lenore by the arm, pinning her against the wall underneath the awning in the courtyard, both completely shrouded in darkness. 

The fear in Lenore immediately started to give way to a much more different feeling, Aesop’s body now pinned against hers as they remained as quiet as possible. She could feel his pounding heart against hers, both in time. Her hands ended up against his chest, the smell of cedar and a hint of smoke coming over her, making her legs go weak. Aesop turned his head to meet hers, their eyes completely blown with fear and desire. The pair of laughing students began to grow more distant, one of the doors creaking as they exited the courtyard. 

Neither Aesop or Lenore moved, both just breathing against each other as their eyes never broke away. Neither of them were certain of what exactly to do, but something about this felt right. He agreed with her condition, that tonight, they were only Lenore and Aesop to each other. 

And with that condition in mind, his lips captured hers.

Aesop wrapped his arms around her as Lenore clung to his chest, his stubble tickling her mouth. Their kiss was not one of desire, lust or passion. It was one that conveyed a sweet, beautiful, and tragic love. A love fostered by their time together, of those small moments. Both of them knew it could never happen again, that this moment would be the only of its kind. His hand moved to cup her face, calloused hands meeting soft skin. As they slowly broke apart, they looked at each other for a moment. Neither of them did not need to say anything, they knew that this would be the only time it could happen. But Aesop did not want to let go, he knew he had stepped over a point of no return.  

But for her sake, and his, he slowly stepped back, Lenore gasping against the wall. For a moment, neither of them spoke, until Lenore stepped forward, taking his hands in hers and placing her own kiss on his knuckles. She looked up to him with a smile of pure adoration. 

“Thank you Aesop. I-,”

Before she could finish they heard the headmaster’s voice travel through the courtyard from the main hall, obviously amplified by a spell letting them all know the Yule Ball was officially over. The two knew that the dream had to come to an end, but before they went their separate ways, Aesop took her hand, leading her to the back of the courtyard. Removing his want, his hand still in hers, he whispered a spell.

“Orchideous.” 

In their clasped hands a pink light appeared, soon appeared a bouquet of red carnations, Aesop taking one, breaking it off the stem, and placing it in her hair. With one last chaste kiss, he stroked her cheek, trying to have this moment imprinted into his mind forever. 

“Lenore.” He breathed against her before taking his leave, Lenore frozen in place as she watched him disappear into the courtyard. 

“Aesop…” She touched her lips, the kiss still burning.

 For the rest of that night, neither of them could sleep, replaying the same memory over and over again. 

___

The old shack groaned as it was pushed by the wind, the shattered windows and tattered curtains providing little to no reprieve from the cold. She was lucky enough to have been able to make a fire tonight, sitting as close to it as possible as she held the flower to her face. The gramophone played their song, her eyes wet and red. She was glad to have remembered the spell he used, one of the only things that made her feel he was close in any way. 

As the song drifted into the winter night, snowflakes falling as winter finally came, Lenore replayed the memory in her mind. Of their dance, their kiss, and the illusion of him there in front of her on the street.  The shack creaked once more, and Lenore  replayed the song again. And again. And again.

-------------------------- TAGS:@4everflowercore @marine-captain-deku @ryehoneyandinkstains @doom-n-gloomgal @shygurl123456 @handon-h-art @misswildfire @nightless @dagiweh @anmactireaonai@liadamerondjarin@amatchinwater @mellocado @imaginaryismyescape@v1cv1c@disassociation-daydreams

[invisibleraven]

things you said at the kitchen table for Rulie, please

Dinners were never a quiet affair in the Molina household. Ray used it as a time to catch up with his kids, ask about their days, tell them about his. Yes there was still an empty space at the table for Rose, and it hurt every time to look across and not see her smiling at him, but it didn't ache quite so badly as time went on.

Then Julie starting bring the guys from her band home for dinner. None of them had great home lives, so Ray was more than happy to provide them with a decent meal, even if it was just his spaghetti, and a caring adult. They didn't come every night, but they were there often enough Ray was forced to increase his grocery budget and the number of recipes he knew.

But the guys, and more importantly, Julie, appreciated it, and that was more than enough for him.

However, it did not escape Ray's notice that Reggie stayed over more than Luke or Alex did. Nor did he fail to see the lovesick expression on the boy's face whenever he looked at Julie when she wasn't looking. Or the mirror of it on hers.

Ray remembered those first days fondly. The do they like me like that agony and the getting together that made the pining all the sweeter. He and Rose had danced around each other for a bit before he finally asked her out, and she had given him a fond 'finally' before kissing him in agreement.

Reggie was a good guy, and he would treat Julie well, of that he had no doubt. But Ray also was getting tired of them not making a move after months of hearing Julie's lovesick playlists and snippets of Reggie's pining country songs.

So he decided to give them a little nudge.

"So how's school?" he asked one night when it was just them and Carlos sitting down to eat.

Julie launched into a tale of her awful math teacher, and how much she hated calculus, with Reggie interjecting about how he could help her, since he was doing a more advanced math course this year.

"Thanks Reg, I'd really appreciate that," Julie replied, a soft blush painting her cheeks.

"Of course Julie, anything for you."

Ray bit the inside of his cheek, because come on, how obvious could you get? "Any gigs coming up?"

"We have a few next month," Reggie enthused. "Plus Principal Lessa asked us to play at Prom."

"Well that's exciting," Ray commented. He had been hearing about prom for weeks now, had taken Julie and Flynn dress shopping not too long ago, and he knew the guys had gone on their own suit shopping adventure as well.

"Luke isn't too jazzed, but we had a band vote and it was three to one," Julie said.

"Pity that means you won't get to dance at your own prom though," Ray replied.

"Oh no, Flynn is gonna DJ between our sets, so we all get a chance to dance," Reggie said. "And I think Dirty Candi are gonna play some songs too, so it'll be really cool."

"So who are you going with Reggie?" Ray asked, totally not looking at Julie who was giving him a wide eyed look of panic.

"Oh um... I haven't asked anyone yet. Might just go stag," Reggie said with a shrug. He was also avoiding looking at Julie, and Ray could see the tips of his ears turning pink.

"Any news on your date mija?" Ray asked.

"I might just third wheel Flynn and Carrie. No one has asked me," Julie replied, her eyes firmly on Reggie, but it seemed the boy wasn't getting the hint.

"Your mother and I didn't meet until college, but there was a dance for some society or another one night. Almost like a prom, and she asked me," Ray recalled. "We had a lovely time."

With that, he got up from the table, leaving the two of them there, blushing and finally catching each other's eyes. As tempted as he was, Ray didn't eavesdrop, instead busying himself in his office with work.

He saw Reggie leave, staggering down the walkway towards his bike, a iridescent smile on his face. And Julie in the doorway, her lipgloss a little smeared, and an equally blissful look on her face.

"Reggie's taking me to prom," she said with a sigh.

"As a friend?" Ray asked with a knowing smirk.

"Nope," she replied, popping the p.

"Well it's about time," he said. "I'm happy for you mija."

"Thanks papi," she said. "Good night!"

Ray wished her the same, and smiled to himself when he heard music drift down the stairs-and it was decidedly more happy than her last playlist, so he'd count that as a win.

And on prom night he got a shot of them sitting to the kitchen table, in all their finery, rubbing noses over a stage plate of spaghetti, looking happier than Ray had ever seen them.

And figured he had better just start setting a place for Reggie at the table from then on.

[justanotherfanwriter]

devotion

something for @soulxmakaweek I saw the first prompt was devotion and ran with this Bad!Ending au I came up with. It's an idea I'd want to flesh out more, but I feel this is okay for a prompt week! :)

fair warning this is a one-sided soulxmaka fic, but I love when devotion turns into an unreciprocated obsession. So, expect angst.

t/w: gore, violence, murder (but at the very end)

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

Maka wasn’t the same after the moon, though, to be fair, none of them were. She hid it well, the slight shift in her personality, the distant stares, her moon bathing. Soul only knew because he heard the way she cried at night when he was stuck fighting his own demons that never quite went away, tucked in the shadowy recesses of his mind, begging, pleading, to come out.

If insomnia hadn’t plagued him, he would have believed all of her heroic puffery, the way she stood at Kid’s side, proud against his naysayers, and her belief in the change they were set to make after the battle on the moon.

The way her gaze flickered to the moon was just a trick of the eye if he didn’t know the way she cried.

She lasted three weeks—and so did he—before she cried herself sick, and he found her in their shared bathroom, her head in the toilet, retching up mucus and lingering specks of black blood. No words were spoken between them as he grabbed her hair and held it for her.

She was sick until the sun came up, and when they fell back against the bathroom wall, sitting together on the floor, tired but not sleeping, she finally spoke, voice cracking, “I just want them back.”

She didn’t say their name, but he knew she was referring to Crona. It was the way she had said them as if said with reverence, referring to a god and not the monster their friend had become. No, them was not used to symbolize the thousands that had lost their lives, but the one who had sacrificed theirs for them all.

The sound of her voice pierced his heart, breaking it in two, confirming everything he had dreaded, and knew, and ignored, and he fought hard against the lump in his throat because that was how he spoke of her, and he understood what it meant.

He wouldn’t be getting what he wanted, but that didn’t matter, did it? He had made a promise a long time ago, hadn’t he? When he said they wouldn’t be like her parents. Of course, liking her had never been the plan—nothing had gone to plan—but he wasn’t the kind of guy to go back on his word.

“What? You’ve already given up?” He said to the tile floor, speaking gruffly as he swallowed his tears. He stood up, offering her his hand, “Don’t be stupid. We’ll get them back. I promise.” 

“How?” She stared up at him, her hand hesitating above his own. She looked drained and defeated and every bit as heartbroken as he felt, staring down at her.

“Why are you asking me?” He snorted, rolling his eyes, envying someone trapped on the moon, “You’re the smart one, remember? I’m just the guy who saves your ass when shit hits the fan. So do what smart people do, okay?” He took her hand and yanked her to her feet, “Go read a book.”

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

Maka took his advice very seriously. Textbooks, tomes, manuscripts, scrolls (cursed and uncursed), newspapers, academic journals, and stray internet conspiracies she had printed out littered every free inch of their apartment dedicated to the Gods, the Occult, and Madness. She worked tirelessly, leaving no stone unturned.

From the little spot she had left him at the kitchen table, he’d stare at the sheer volumes of books with wonder. They were like a fungus that only continued to grow. Even his bedroom was unsafe from them. There was a time, years ago now, when her book hoarding was a point of contention between them, and he had forced her to sell a few for extra cash. That had been before she had met Crona. Now, he wouldn’t even dream of it. Sometimes her books were the only thing that kept her going. Not even he could rouse her from her grief anymore.

As the years progressed, Maka had only become more desperate. The world around her had moved on from Madness, adjusting to their new normal, which now included witches, a few werewolves, and one black moon.

Except for him, of course.

He had a few romantic partners in the years that followed the War on the Moon in a self-antagonizing quest to be rid of Maka. It didn’t work. At one point, he was gone for two years. He left without a single word, and when he came back, he was surprised to find she hadn’t even noticed his absence, while he, on the other hand, noticed every single second.

She had smiled up at him from a circle of books like he had only popped out to run a few pointless errands, and his heart had ripped apart and stitched itself back together again in seconds. He looked around their cluttered apartment and asked if she had seen Blair.

“Uh, I haven’t,” She blinked, “but let me read you this. I think…it may be something.”

“When did Blair leave?”

Maka twirled her finger in one of her disheveled, matted pigtails, reading the passage out loud around the pencil eraser she was chewing. She didn’t bother to answer his question. In fact, she acted as if it had never been asked. The most he could hope was that the cat had made it out alive, that he wouldn’t find her buried under a pile of books.

He never did find out what happened to Blair in the two years he was gone. Instead, he sighed, pushed the kitten out of his mind, and slumped his bag down to the floor before turning to pick up the spoiled plates of food she had piled and misplaced on the stacks of books.

He wouldn’t—couldn’t—let Maka die this way. So, he didn’t leave again. He stayed.

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

Kid wasn’t the only god people prayed to, though obviously, he was well worshipped. There were many gods and goddesses that had domains in this world. Some governed over concepts like death, their only absolute order in the chaos of life, other gods represented the seasons.

Some were equated to the Moon.

Maka had become the Moon’s most zealous follower. Every new moon, she paid tribute, lightening candles and whispering prayers. Swirling clouds of incense would fill their apartment, turning her into an ethereal misty mirage.

Maka didn’t make the same tributes to Kid, but this didn’t offend their Death Lord. It wasn’t uncommon for Kid to turn sacrifices, precious goods, and money away. Sometimes Death was a blessing, but he preferred letting nature run its course.  He was only interested in the people that defied him.

It always boggled Soul’s mind that Kid was a friend and still his timeless enemy, but in the end, what did it matter? He wasn’t afraid of Kid. His demons lived in his head, not on a clock, whispering insane circumstances, trying their hardest to draw him back into the black room. He resisted, but nights were still hard, listening to her cry over the moon.  

His friends were more supportive of Maka’s religious obsession. Tsubaki still lit a candle at her brother’s altar for the moon without fail every evening. Black*Star thanked the shadows when she was in earshot. Patty and Liz would occasionally moon bathe with her to keep her company. Kid couldn’t do much without disturbing the power balance between all things, but he didn’t chastise her when she used DWMA resources to further her research.  

Soul, on the other hand, did not participate in her religious endeavors. It was his one act of defiance against her, and if his friends noticed, they never said anything.  

Soul prayed to a different goddess entirely. She was a sound. A “G” note. Solid and reliable and there. If he prayed hard enough, maybe the mirage of her, the ghost of her, haunting these halls filled with books and eye-stinging smoke, would become solid again, forced out of the shadows of the moon and back into the sun where she belonged.

Thoughts of that once-sunny girl consumed him when he stared at the moon priestess on top of their apartment roof. She was whispering a mantra to the rock above them as she held her hands out in prayer. She looked so delicate, bathed in the rays of the weak moonlight that still penetrated the black shroud covering its face, that if he reached out to graze his fingertips down the spine of her back, he was afraid his hand would pass right through.

Instead, he watched her from the stairs, memorizing the lines of her, the sharp angles, and soft curves, remembering when she was once brighter than the sun.

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

There was a monk who, according to legend, knew all things. Kid had heard of him once, stating that his father had spoken of the man with venom in his voice. A rare mortal who had defied death and gotten away with it. He knew nothing more, or rather, he disclosed nothing more and, with remorse in his eyes, turned Maka away when she begged.

She, along with Black*Star, was still his best agent. Her obsession to free Crona had spurred her up the ranks of the DWMA Agents, allowing her more access to classified information. He, of course, followed after her.

When Kid turned his back on them, she cursed his name and left in a storm of rage. This wasn’t abnormal. She oscillated between denial, anger, and depression, and bargained whatever she could to gain favors, holy or unholy. Acceptance, he noticed, was never in the queue.

She pulled a few of those favors she had long since gained and found the Monk Who Knew All Things. Soul had never doubted her ability to do so, but it seemed that others hadn’t either. A group, a splinter cell of some sort, had been watching and waiting, allowing her to do the hard part and crack the code, and then swooped in at the last second to steal her prize.  

It was futile on their part. Together, he and Maka cut the group of men down without hesitation, and Soul enjoyed the sick feeling of them being sliced open. The black blood sang, and the room came nearer, but he had learned to ignore its call, focusing only on Maka and what she needed.

A blood bath laid in their wake, and resting upon a rock, waited the monk. His beard was well-trimmed but long. He was old but not frail. And in his eyes was the sweetest sorrow Soul had ever beheld.

He stayed as a scythe as Maka explained herself and her righteous cause.

“Tell me,” She begged, falling to her knees. He slipped from her grasp and clattered to the ground. He no longer complained when she did that, instead mourning only the loss of her touch. He could have transformed back into a human, but because she had not requested he do so, he stayed as a scythe within hand reach.

“Please,” She continued to plead, “how? How do I free them?”

The old man thought for a moment, staring up at the Black Moon, “It used to be such a lovely sight.”

“It still is,” Maka sneered. “Now, tell me. I saved your life; you owe me that much.”

His gaze fell back to her, and he sighed, “There’s nothing a mortal like yourself can do. This is a job of a god. Of divinity.”

This chilled his blood and reminded him of a recent conversation he had with Tsubaki prior to their trip. She had grasped him by the elbow and stared at him seriously with more authority than he had ever had the pleasure of seeing in her.

“Then, I’ll become a god,” Maka hissed, nonplussed by this revelation. “Tell me how.”

“I know that look in her, Soul.” Tsubaki had stated, “I’ve seen it in Black*Star—”

“You already know,” The Man Who Knew All Things said with a sad shake of his head, “and I beg that you do not follow this path.”

“It’s too late for that,” Maka spoke softly with tears in her eyes. “I promised them I would get them back.”

Madness was an interesting concept. Power, greed, order, grief. Just about anything could drive someone mad, and with the lingering pulses of Asura still permeating their atmosphere, Maka was—had been—at her breaking point. Once a beacon of human endurance, even she had lost herself in something.

Though he was still a scythe and could not see the look in her eye from the ground where he lay, he could feel the energy of her soul through their wave link singing a broken, mournful tune. It awoke something deep in him, and his soul began to reach out, harmonizing every other broken note as something dark pounded on the locked door in his mind.

“—she is going somewhere you cannot follow—” Tsubaki had warned him.

He had no time to react when Maka snatched him from his place on the ground and brought him down on the Man Who Knew All Things.

“Maka! No!” Was all he could cry as his blade caught the old man’s neck, slicing it clean off. She let go of him, and he went flying away, innocent blood staining his blade as he again clattered to the ground.

It was silent as the head of the monk rolled to a stop before her, and as he transformed back into his body, she covered her mouth in horror and shock, falling back to her knees with a horrible moan before crying out mantras and prayers to her Moon and its inhabitant, pleading for mercy and forgiveness, and a way to get Crona back.

He only felt sick. He had no prayers to whisper. Maka, his beloved, dearest Maka, had just committed the worst taboo. She had reaped a pure soul, one not on the Shinigami's List, and she had used him to do so. They had defied Death himself, and Soul knew Kid would not forgive her, not for this.

He should have run, like the coward he knew he was, but as tears streaked down his own face, he stayed. He had made a promise like that to her once, hadn’t he?

Tsubaki’s voice continued to echo in his head, “—and you will lose yourself entirely if you do not resist her.”

He sucked in a breath and knew their friend was right. A decision had to be made, but unfortunately, as he looked over at Maka, he knew he had already made his decision a long time ago. He didn’t fear death, he had his own demons, and they were devoted to a girl who was devout to the Moon.

He opened his mouth wide as Tsubaki’s warning played on repeat and swallowed the Monk’s soul whole. He stood there a moment, feeling it slither down his throat. The texture was the same as always, and for a moment, he was overcome with this incredible realization that a sound soul was no different from the unrested.

Slowly, he crawled his way toward Maka. When he reached her, he pulled her shaking form into his, and she didn’t resist as he began to rock them gently, smoothing down her hair. “Shush, shush, it’s okay.” He cooed, “We’ll be okay.”

He pulled away from her slightly and pressed their palms together as if in prayer, and slowly, so, so slowly, spoke as he finally started to feel the effects of a sound soul course its way through his body. He had been wrong, mistaken. A sound soul was not the same as the unrested. The black blood consumed it with vigor, and he knew now his hunger would be satisfied with nothing less.

“I told you, didn’t I?” He said barely above a whisper, looking past the tears in her eyes, as he shifted his fingers, interlocking them with hers, “I’ll follow you anywhere.”

[kharmii]

how far are you into BNHA?

just curious when I saw your reblog earlier!

I've been out of the loop for quite a while but I'm still follow from the sidelines a little.

Last I saw, Crunchyroll had a few episodes of the BNHA Season 7 sub but none in English yet. That was a few weeks ago. Since then, I've been watching Jujutsu Kaisen (am on S.1 E.19) and won't watch anything else until I'm done with it. I'm also looking forward to the next season of Demon Slayer coming out this month.

I've watched everything BNHA out including the movies and one shots (loved the Mr. Smiley one and got a chill from what happened in the one where Shoto gets triggered by a treadmill in an abandoned building, and what the viewer thinks happens after). With the manga, I've only skimmed sections of characters I'm interested in. IE: Saw what happened to Dabi and Skeptic but didn't read most of the endless Shigaraki battle.

As always, I'm fixating on specific characters and will post them to death. I thought I'd be over Dabiten by now, but then I had to go and find that Japanese artist who did a hundred or so beautiful comic panels about the ship, and now I'll end up laboriously trying to translate it all based on emotions and awkward Google lens translations. The two complement each other in a sweetly sad way, like Geten could have eased the agony of Dabi's existence which would eventually make him forget out his grudge. Instead, Geten ends up rotting in prison while Dabi.....well.

I'm assuming Dabi is dead based on how he was last seen in the manga, but maybe there's hope for him because he has always been dubiously alive. He's a guy whose villain name means 'cremation' because he was burned so badly by his own quirk he ended up in a coma for three years, then wasn't expected to live longer than a month after he woke up. Supposedly, his hatred and longing for revenge gave him life.

In that way, Dabi reminds me of a human version of the pokemon Ceruledge, a fire/ghost type called the blue flame arm-blade pokemon who 'wears the malicious armor of a grudge bearing soul'. Pokemon has a way of making adorable chibified versions of beings out of a horror movie. Ceruledge is a similar horror to the 108 tormented souls of spiritomb, or all the child-snatching soul eating 'mons, such as drifloon, litwick, palossand, etc. Dabi is a good parallel representation of the idea of ceruledge.

Another fun ceruledge fact is it's one of the pokemon that 'un-alives' itself at its peak evolution. Other examples of this would be alolan marowak, decidueye, froslass, shedninja, hisuian typhlosion, basculegion, skeledirge, and annihilape. Many ghost pokemon are ghosts or possessed objects, but all the 'un-alived' 'mons are undead creatures resembling ghouls, zombies or vampires.

Art credit: Dabi, Apocrypha, refined taste / 謹賀新年VIOLET - pixiv

[smokeys-house]

Puukko’s Travel Log 1 & South, for What Ails

(See this post first!)

A leather bordered journal with a wrap closure. It's clearly quite old but not yet well used, and the cover is embossed with a sailing ship. The front page has an anchor sketched on it with an ornate border, beneath it reads "Property of Puukko"

Passage from Puukko's Travel Log

Used to be I'd just wind up on an excursion like this. Fell into trouble like one falls overboard, soaring through the air and into the drink with a splash. A rare treat to start one voluntarily, if poorly planned. I'm headed down through the valley toward the old Moominhouse. Kind folk down there, gon' stop by for a cup o' something warm and t' exchange words of the same if they'll have 'em. 

I intend to stay with the moomins a while and charter a ship to head southward. Not rightly sure on the where, but I do know the when. Wond'rin' if they'll remember me down there. Moominmama and her husband were always some that I'd considered friends. At least since I came to the valley anyway. Feels like they've always been here. 

Day 1

Signed Puukko

(Full story under the cut!)

The leaves scattered along worn footpaths, carried haphazard and carelessly by a crisp autumn wind. Moominvalley was as peaceful an idyll as it ever was as Puukko made her way to the home of the Moomins. There waiting on the veranda was none other than Moominpapa, enjoying his coffee and a well-deserved break from his memoirs. 

"Ahoy there!" The old moomin woman cleared her throat. It had been some weeks since she'd spoken to someone other than herself, and some years since she'd met with anyone in the valley.

"Well would you look at that, I was just thinking of you! Mama had mentioned paying you a visit just the other day, but I was convinced you'd taken to the seas long ago." He stood and smiled brightly. "Won't you come in for a visit?"

He took her bag and set it by the coat rack, ushering her into the kitchen area. It was warm and inviting, though the chairs were a little small for the likes of Puukko. Still, she made herself comfortable as Moominpapa mused about the comings and goings of the valley inhabitants. 

"I'd been meaning to pay you a visit myself as well, my son's old pocket knife has seen better days. After all, he's not got pockets!" He chuckled aloud. "Mama! Might we have some more coffee please? An old friend has come to visit!"

Moominmama rounded the corner. She hadn't changed much over the years, still with her classic handbag and apron. "Oh, Miss Puukko! I thought I had smelled smoke, but Papa's pipe is still on his desk." She ribbed gently. It wasn't normally like her to poke fun, but she was well accustomed to her guest's sense of humor.  

The Moomins had a way of making it feel as though no time had passed, their welcoming attitude and general hospitality created a comforting atmosphere. Moominmama prepared a fresh pot of coffee as her husband delighted in his endless story telling. The three swapped tales of recent times, remarks on the weather, and other pleasantries for a time before getting to the reason for such an uncommon visit. 

"I've plans to venture back onto the high seas. Been sittin' too long. I reckon I'm fit to burst should I not feel some wind in me sails again." The old pirate stared into her mug, paws wrapped around its sides. 

"I do hope you're not thinking of going back to your old job, dear. I very much doubt you'll find today's ships to your liking, anyhow." Moominmama's eyes betrayed her words, she made it clear with a look that she'd rather have a friend in the mountains than one on the run. 

"Nothing quite like that, worry ye none!" She gave a hearty chuckle. "I'm just lookin' t' see her again. The sea, I mean. A taste of salt, nothin' more." 

Moominpapa passed the table salt over without a word, pleased with his joke regardless of whether the other two took note. "Not to dissuade you, I am partial to a journey, especially one by sea, but you haven't got a ship, have you?" He was very clearly suggesting something, and eagerly so. 

"Cunning as ever, Moominpapa. I'd hoped to 'ave you and yer l'il craft ferry me to a port where I could charter a ship." 

"Ah, an excursion at sea with a real pirate, how exciting!" He stood on his chair and struck a gallant pose. 

"She's not a pirate anymore, dear." Moominmama was quick to correct. "Where is it you're heading, Miss Puukko? I'm afraid it's a little late in the season for a long journey."

"Italy, I think. Ne'er been, always wanted to. Knew someone what were tossin' that idea about, lifetimes ago." 

Moominpapa put aside his excitement and scratched at his snout. It was always obvious when he was thinking, he carried a familiar look of determination. "You could borrow The Adventure, if you could promise a safe return." He didn't seem thrilled at the prospect of losing his own vessel. 

"I'd be leaving her at port, and I fear I do not trust to leave her by her lonesome so far from home. Perhaps it's best I wait fer Spring afore I head out." Puukko tried to hide her disappointment. She couldn't fault the Moomins for hibernating, after all, she too was at the mercy of the seasons. She had only just awoke from her own hibernation at the arrival of Autumn. 

"Do you know the Snork?" Moominmama offered reassuringly. 

"Clever feller with those glasses tied 'round his ears? Aye, made him a lovely l'il folding knife couple'a years back. Redwood and gold. He got a ship?" 

"He's quite the inventor. He's just finished work on his flying ship." 

"Flying as in it goes real fast?" Puukko shot a perplexed look at both of the Moomin parents. 

"Flying as in it sails the sea of the skies!" Moominpapa delivered poetically, and with much gusto. Moominmama reflexively rolled her eyes with affection at her husband's playful nature. She laid her paw gently across the old pirate's wrist, assuring her that they weren't just playing a prank on her. 

"It flies? In the air?! I've heard tell all kinds of tall tales but ne'er once a ship with wings!" 

"Well this version doesn't have wings, but she is seaworthy– er, sky worthy? Perhaps it's best to let the Snork show you himself. I'm sure he'd be eager for another voyage." Moominpapa's excitement returned to him as his taste for adventure grew. Moominmama wordlessly packed a few things in a basket for the Snork, and the three headed out to his workshop. 

Along the way, Moominpapa told the story of Snork and the many trials he faced in building a flying ship. He told of all the help the people of the valley gave in building the workshop, then rebuilding it after it exploded in an incident with the Muffle, and the first flight tests. He left out mention of the witch so as not to diminish Snork's accomplishment. 

"Ah, here we are. We're in luck, it would seem the Snork is already here, and working rather hard." Moominpapa opened the door without knocking, much to Snork's bemusement. The Snork's workshop was quaint and open, with no shortage of tools and equipment covering the walls in an organized fashion. Its rustic appeal did much to abate the otherwise proper order of its owner. 

"Moominpapa!" The Snork scrambled to hide the pages he had been working on at the drafting table, pencils and tools clattering to the floor. "This is the workshop of an inventor, you know! Many people might like to steal any secret designs within."

"Perhaps you ought to consider locking the door, dear." Moominmama teased. 

"And who's this you've brought with you? And into my private workshop no less!" 

"Check yer pockets, sonny. My name's on the inside of the grip o' yer knife. To my mem'ry, yer exact instructions were 'simple and efficient, but not without class'. Redwood and gold, convex edge, and no thumb stud." Puukko set her bag down by the door and took a lean against the wall, took out her pipe and chewed on the stem. 

"Ah, Miss Puukko! How nice it is to see you. I had meant to contact you about servicing said knife, but I've been so busy with my flying ship, you see."

"Seems a trend in the valley. The meanin' t' come see me, I mean. Perhaps I ought to start makin' regular maintenance trips down here..?" She scratched at her snout in thought for a moment. "Anyhow. So it's true that you've got a ship what can fly? And I'm supposin' this mightn't be it. She motioned to the airship, which was taking up most of the room in the work space. 

"Indeed! I invented it myself and now I'm both an inventor and the first ever skyship captain. Or, pilot, I suppose." He puffed out his chest slightly with his paws on his hips. Puukko walked around the ship, running her paw along its hull. She inspected the planks and admired the craftsmanship. 

"She's a fine vessel. Permission to board her, captain?" She chuckled. She was still dubious towards the idea of a flying ship, but her excitement at the prospect won out over her doubts. 

"Permission granted, but please do be careful around the levers!"

Puukko boarded the ship and began looking around as Moominpapa explained the situation, and what brought them to his workshop in the first place. 

"-and you see, going to Italy is quite a long trip. Mama says it's too late in the season to be out at sea even just to take Miss Puukko to the nearest major port. And my thinking was, it might be a bit faster as the Snork flies er- I mean as the crow flies." 

"Quite right Moominpapa, but I'm afraid you and your wife would have to stay here. My flying ship can only hold one passenger at a time." Snork patiently reminded him. "I'm working on a new version large enough to take many more but it's going to take some time and rather a… lot of.. supplies…" Snork's cadence slowed as an idea hatched in his mind. "Miss Puukko?"

"Yes Mr. Snor– ack!" Puukko hit her head on the doorframe of the ship's control room as she stood to face the Snork. She swore under her breath, collected herself and sighed. "What is it, my dear short inventor friend?" 

Snork did not follow the "short" comment and chose to ignore it. 

"I imagine you intended to pay for the trip in your usual odd fashion, what would you say to waiving your payment and return trip in lieu of me picking up some supplies when we make our landing?" 

"I believe I'd be amenable to that Mr. Snork. Need an excuse t' be at sea anyhow. Talkin' o' ships, how's about you tell me how this tub gets up in the sky with no wings?" She shot him an incredulous look. 

"One of the keys to the success of my flying ship is in its round flight balloon. My first flying ship was a flop, wings simply aren't as efficient when dealing with a ship of this size. A round balloon was the solution, the idea was all thanks to a dream Moomin had." 

"Why are you saying 'round' like that?" 

That evening, Puukko stayed with the Moomins. It was a pleasant change of pace for her, having company. The house was mostly quiet, save for the boisterous and hearty laughs of an old pirate and the jovial expressions of young Moomintroll. She told him tales of the sea, omitting of course many of the harsher realities of piracy. He'd begged her to drop by and visit again soon to teach him the proper way to use a sword. She of course agreed, provided he asked his mother's permission. Despite the time that had passed, Moomintroll still seemed to be a cheery and eager youth with a taste for the dramatic. The fact that not much ever changes for long in the valley filled Puukko with a complex feeling. She couldn't quite parse it at the time, but it was both a comfort and a curse. After Moomin headed to bed, Puukko delighted in the simple presence of Moominpapa and Moominmama. It was both the longest and the shortest night at once, with laughter and stories, and the aching melancholy knowing it would soon end. For Puukko, being lonely wasn't the same as being alone. She'd always liked to spend her time by herself, but that made the company of others all the sweeter. 

Morning brought with it the cool breeze of autumn, and for Puukko, a tangible excitement she hadn't felt in decades. She felt the thrill of a new adventure climbing her back and the anxiety of something new altogether in her stomach as she made her way to the launching ground near Snork's workshop.

"Ahoy there!" Moominmama smiled with her eyes and gently waved her paw. "We thought we'd come early to help Snork get things set up. Did you see the pancakes I left for you on the table?"

"That I did! And the lovely note. Yer hospitality leaves none to be desired Moominmama. A fairer maiden there's ne'er been." Puukko put aside the thought of one other woman. 

"Ahem." Moominpapa coughed.

"And her fine husband, o'course." Puukko placated him with a playful eye roll. 

"Have you got all the things you need for the trip, Miss Puukko?" The Snork exited the cabin of the flying ship, wiping oil from his paws with a rag. 

"This'un here's me an' mine, and all I'm bringing along." She gave the bag at her side a hearty slap. "Seems a might bit heavier today, though I'm sure that's just nerves." She winked at Moominmama, who in turn looked away coyly. 

"Well if you're all set, climb aboard!" Snork re-entered the control room. He returned shortly with a rope ladder, and tossed it overboard. The balloon atop the ship was full, and the hoses used to fill it cast aside. Though it was still for the moment, the lift provided by the balloon made it seem lighter than air, as if it would be blown away by the wind any moment. Puukko trusted the Snork's capabilities and the word of the Moomins, but she couldn't help but feel a little timid now that it was time to take off. She boarded and set her bag down in the control room. 

"Wait just a moment." Snork's expression narrowed. He adjusted some levers and knobs, much beyond the ken of the old pirate standing just away from him. "You know, my first design was intended primarily as a proof of concept, which meant cutting out additional weight such as quarters and storage. Which means…" He spoke as if not to his passenger, but aloud for the room. He stretched his arm above him, reaching into a space replete with various complex parts of the ship. 

"Hey, watch it!" 

Someone was hiding in the small chamber. Snork lowered his arm, revealing he had found a small girl dressed in red. 

"Well if it isn't Little My. I would've thought by now you'd have grown tired of stowing away. You've made multiple trips aboard my flying ship by now! I knew you'd be in here, you may be small, but there aren't many places to hide in he– yeowch!"

"Don't go interrupting other people's naps!" The uninvited guest shouted with a voice much larger than herself. Little My had bitten Snork's finger, loosening his grip on her. She bolted through the open door and over the side with a pitter-patter of little shoes all along the way. Puukko, bewildered by the sudden appearance of a strange and violent child, still laughed aloud at Snork's misfortune. 

"'ave ye a problem with stowaways often?" She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, catching her breath from her laughter. Little My's cackling continued to trail off into the distance as she made her escape. 

"It's usually just the same stowaway every time." He nursed his paw. "Would you mind pulling up the ladder?" 

"Aye aye, captain." She continued to chuckle. She rolled up the ladder and tossed it onto the deck, waving her goodbyes to Moominmama and Moominpapa. The two smiled and waved in return. 

The ship began to lurch, and the propellers to each side spun up. The whirring was loud and unsettling to Puukko, who had little to no experience with machines.

"Strike me pink!" She shouted over the wind as she dug her claws into the railing, ducking down somewhat. She watched as Moominvalley began to pass by her faster and faster, at first just the empty patch surrounding Snork's workshop, and then the whole valley itself. The speed and intensity of the wind coupled with the climbing height was both thrilling and terrifying.

"Well I'll be scuppered! We're actually flying!" She continued to muse and laugh in disbelief as the world below grew further and further away. "Snork! Can ye pass by me homestead? I should like to see it from above!" Once the ship had reached a steady altitude, Snork stepped out of the control room to meet with his passenger. 

"It's a long way to Italy. I imagine we won't be seeing each other for some time. This isn't goodbye, is it?" Snork grew concerned, wondering if he'd set off too eagerly before anyone had the chance to say a proper farewell. 

"I should think not, cap'n. Though I fear I might be gone awhile. My yearnin's keep me wanderin', but me heart belongs in Moominvalley." Puukko never once looked over to him, staring off at the great expanse below. "Bless me tail! I still can't believe we're flying…" She thought on how this would make for another good tale to tell, if only the beginnings of one, and at last, she thought of one person she'd like to tell it to more than anyone else.

[hideyseek]

/BARGES IN/ HELLO BUDDY REVERSE UNO CARD FANFIC ASK MEME 🥺, 🤡 , 🛒, ⌛

HIIIIIIIIIII ENNJI <3 I LOVE 2 BE UNO REVERSE CARDED!! also haha sorry these got ... quite long (i can talk about how long it takes me to write a thing for SO LONG buddy) so i'm putting the whole thing under a cut.

from these fanfic writer emoji asks

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

mmmmmmm.... had to think about this one for a bit because the types of interactions i tend to write for kakehai aren't actually the ones that put me in MY feels, haha. but i think moments of very small and mundane domesticity are moments i really like -- there's an almost off-hand kind of intimacy in that kind of sharing space that i'm really compelled by. that idea of like, oh this person is so familiar to me that things like reaching around them or being passed something by them is all happening somewhat subconsciously.

🤡 What’s a line, scene, or exchange you’ve written that made you laugh?

ohoho. i do think that i've gotten a lot less funny over the years, both as a person in how i interact with the world and also in the kind of writing i'm doing. part of this i think is just the particular bits of haiji/kazetsuyo that i latched onto (in particular contrast to the lighthearted, laugh-at-the-narrator, very romantic type of fic i primarily wrote for inception).

anyway, that to say i actually couldn't think of anything when i was answering this so then i went down a rabbit hole of google docs bc surely i'd written something i thought was funny in the last year and genuinely all i could find (though admittedly i didn't search very hard) was this snippet from a kunikidazai pwp ficlet i started for bcsdp when kunikida's been lost in thought for a while:

“Ku-ni-ki-da-kun,” Dazai prompts. “What’s happening upstairs?” “Nothing,” Kunikida snaps, and wishes he’d said none of your business as soon as Dazai smirks.

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

ok well i was going to say "i don't know but i skimmed through all my posted fic on ao3 and i had two whole fics that involved the pov character being a forger of some kind and a core romance-related theme being 'what is real vs what is valuable' which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice".

but then i remembered that i have like, three or four wips across a couple fandoms that are all basically "what happens to my blorbo guy after a big, life-changing experience ends and then he's left adrift and has to figure out how to be a person?" so i'll say that! i'm really compelled by the idea of having a like, identity-defining project and then having that like -- end abruptly and having a character still have to be themselves without it.

⌛ How long does it take you to write a fic, or a chapter?

SO LONG. ohh my god SO SO LONG. well okay that's not true, it really depends. one of my big "writing goals" (incredibly abstract goal, i would not say i'm working toward it) is to write faster.

i've gotten to a point where i can, more or less, rough out an outline of a 2-4k fic focusing on 1-2 character relationships with a single reasonably straightforward plot and no particular thematic intention in an afternoon, and probably draft it in a week (and revise in another week) if i'm not doing much else or the idea is really compelling and i don't get overthinky. a year or two ago, that would have taken me maybe a month or two of very like, focused and intense writing. but also there's like ... something about the 4k threshold that i just never can really cross with a fic like this.

but in terms of drafting and going from the start of an idea to an actual fic i am incredibly, incredibly slow. most fics that i'm writing now are more than 4k (even the mini version of heist!au is shaping up to be 5k ish) and are probably ... 3-5 drafts? for narrative!fic i've spent maybe 2-3 years now putting snippets in a evernote doc and drafted the first 1/4 to 1/3 of the story literally 4 times in the last year -- i'm like a chapter and a half into draft 4 now and that's taken already 2-3 weeks (and this was genuinely a fluke from the recent holiday weekend) and in my mind this is still a "first draft".

ok wow this was possibly more than you desire to know about how long it takes me to write things however haha i'm still not done! the thing that has been keeping me moderately sane about all this is this FANTASTIC BOOK called the art of slow writing by louise desalvo which i have also been reading incredibly slowly (i am about 60% of the way through and it has been since like, february of this year) but the book is this really wonderful (to me) collection of both desalvo's process and perspective of writing a novel, and a ton of referencing other writers and how goddamn long it took them to write things (with lots of gentle and loving mockery of writing as a practice, which i really enjoy). anyway! i recommend it -- whenever i get frustrated about how long a fic is taking i'll go read a chapter of this (they are all very short) and calm down about it.

[elvenbeard]

Get to know me

I've been tagged in three separate memes with that title by @timaeusterrored and @katsigian, thanks a lot for thinking of me! :D For brevity's and simplicity's sake I'm just gonna throw all of them together in one post ~ Won't be tagging anyone in particular, but if you read this and feel inclined to share some stuff about yourself, pick and choose from the questions listed here and feel free to tag me in your posts! :D

Favorite color: Purple, Turquoise, and Black

Relationship: single

Currently reading: when I'm not re-reading my own stuff for editing purposes, I currently just really enjoy reading everyone's Cyberpunk drabbles and OC lore posts because I live for that stuff! for having been a very bookish kid I don't really read much anymore admittedly D:

Last song Played: "A Dialogue In B Flat Minor" by In Flames (it's on my V playlist and a very Vince and Johnny song to me XD)

Song Stuck in my Head: "Gloves" by Saint Punk (I'm obsessed with it because it fits Vince so much and I'm working on something inspired by it)

Last Movie: oooof... I think it was "The Shawshank Redemption", I was recently in the mood of rewatching some 90s classics while drawing!

Last series: If youtube series count, I'm currently rewatching Buzzfeed Unsolved: True Crime for the 11th or so time XD I've loved true crime stuff for as long as I can remember and BFU is also just really nice as background noise for when I'm working on something for a few hours at a time. Looking forward to diving into Mystery Files xD (the last "actual" series I watched before that was "Better Call Saul", rewatched it from start to finish in English for the first time xD)

Sweet, spicy, or savory: ooohhh hmmm.... dammit, I guess I'm too much of a sweet-tooth to not pick sweet xD

Favourite Food: Pizza with lots of different cheeses

Craving: to quit my dayjob, because objectively, it would just be really fucking funny to do. We're chronically understaffed and simultaneously also being forbidden overtime to catch up on the backlog, so it's just extremely exhausting at the moment.

Tea or coffee: Coffee, but tea is nice too :3

Dream Trip: everywhere... but my top 3 are Japan, Iceland, and Canada. I'd love to go to Japan during cherry blossom season, spend one week in all the big cities and another more on the countryside, going hiking, looking at temples, forests, and spending a day or two at a ryokan with onsen. Iceland I'd also like to see as much of as possible, I'd actually love to do a guided tour on horseback across the country xD And honestly, same for Canada (without the horses though), also a trip across the country visiting all kinds of sights and cities along the way would be awesome.

Last Thing I Googled: 2023 Conventions Germany

Currently working on: the final stages of my new Kerry x V drawing, editing some VP shoots, writing Vince's background lore fic (6 chapters done, about 6 more to go!), started writing a post-canon fic (but only have a few paragraphs), and my ongoing Cyberpunk 2077 Let's Play videos XD cause I always wanted to make a full Let's Play like that and given my current obsession it works. Looming on the horizon are also some short comics and ideas for mods and even more VP!

Are you named after Anyone?

After an OC of mine, if we go with Elven as the name I'm predominantly using atm XD Long story short, but "Elvenbeard" was an elf OC I once cosplayed as and who got his name from a friend of mine during a very long and funny train ride to the convention we were headed to. Good times XD

2. When was the last time you cried?

A couple of days ago. I think it was a mix of stress and having too many feels about Kerry xD

3. Do you have kids?

Nope, and don't want any. Unless pets count.

4. Do you use Sarcasm a lot?

I would never do such a thing.

5. What Sports do you play/ have you played?

None xD I was the short fat kid that got relentlessly bullied by my PE teacher for years which completed ruined any interest in sports I might have ever developed.

6. What's the first thing you notice about other people?

Honestly... I think I've gotten quite good at picking up people's vibes first. Picked up a very bad "stay-far-away-from-them" vibe from someone a couple of days ago, and when I met them again a little while later one of the first things out of their mouth is transphobic bullshit. I (sadly) felt rather validated with my first impression.

7. Eye Colour?

Hazel.

8. Scary Movies or Happy Endings?

Both can be good! I don't like overly gory movies or stuff that relies heavily on jump scares, but a scary film with a good story and some unexpected twists I really like (some of my faves being "Hush" and "The Conjuring"). I'm also a sucker for Happy Endings though. Best thing overall? Angst with a Happy Ending.

9. Any Special Talents?

Does hyperfocus count as a special talent these days? XD

10. Where were you born?

Somewhere in rural Germany.

11. What are your hobbies?

Yes... Drawing, writing, sewing, crafting, cosplay, gaming... and the newest addition: virtual photography!

12. Do you have any pets?

Yess, a cat!

13. How tall are you?

160cm/ 5'2 - smol and full of rage

14. Fave Subject in School?

Art, History, and English as a secondary language

15. Dream Job?

Creating things that make people happy and being able to live off of it ooooor anything that allows me to finance that kinda "maker of all kinds of things" lifestyle I'm dreaming of. Ideally, if I have to keep a dayjob, I'd like one that only takes place in the timespan of Monday to Thursday, or Tuesday to Friday, and doesn't start at 5.30 in the morning, but at 9 or 10. Or just generally the option of home office would be nice. I don't wanna be rich, but I'd like to have financial security for myself and my cat, enough time to do my silly little arts and crafts, and travel somewhere cool once a year or so.