#its not totally dry... ill let it settle and see how it pins with the hood

[lokh]

ok. washing the tablecloth I was using for the cloak has irreversibly changed the texture

the good news: i like it! it's less stiff now which improves the drape and the slight wrinkling even after ironing makes it seem weathered

the bad news: i may need to wash the hood thats already been sewn and french seamed -_-

[youshouldhavepaidattentiondad]

Slow Descent: Chapter 3: Totally Wigging Out, Man (Why Don't You Take a Chill Pill?)

Day 3 entry for @hatchetober

Prompt: Fear

Ao3

Early morning sunlight streams through the big picture window. Arlen sits at his kitchen table, sipping from a mug. There may be a lot of coffee shops in Hatchetfield, but he prefers tea. He sets the mug down with a soft clack. The blank pages of a notebook stare up at him. He ignores them in favor of staring at his phone. He had sent Duke a text right when he had woken up and only received silence in return.

With a resigned sigh, he reaches for a pen. He supposes he can do some writing while he waits. As soon as he touches the pen, his phone lights up.  He snatches up the device instead, quickly opening his most recent text. It's from Duke, but all it contains is an address and a time for later that afternoon. Arlen frowns as he texts back see you then.

-

That afternoon, Arlen parks by the curb in what appears to be an abandoned subdivision. Again, he finds himself wondering exactly how big Hatchetfield is. Small towns don't have subdivisions.

As he steps out of his Corvette, Duke steps out of the station wagon parked in front of him. Duke nods in acknowledgement before he walks up the crumbling drive to an olive green house.

Arlen follows, glancing at the overgrown yard. "Who lives here?" He asks.

"Nobody anymore," Duke answers. He pulls a key out of his pocket and inserts it into the lock of the front door. The door creaks open and Duke walks inside.

That's sketchy. 

Against his better judgement, Arlen follows him inside. A thick layer of dust covers the carpet, muting its brilliant real color. The walls are mauve and covered in pop art pieces and band posters. He swallows nervously at how many dead houseplants there are, their leaves dry and brown. The couch and armchairs are brightly colored, segmented into random geometric shapes. "Uh, so the 80's called-"

"And Miss Holloway always picked up," Duke says with a fond sigh. "Come on." He leads Arlen down a narrow hall, past a corded wall phone, and into an office.

Well, office might be a bit generous. There's various glass tables around, stacked with thick tomes and piles of loose leaf paper. One table has some sort of tray on it. There's a chintz couch in the middle of the room. On the wall to the right, there's a collage of some sort.

"What is all this?" Arlen asks in a low voice.

Duke takes a deep breath. "This is what Miss Holloway was working on before…" he shakes his head.

Arlen walks over to the collage, eyes trying to take in everything at once. There's newspaper clippings too faded to read. There's handwritten notes and sketches. There's Polaroid snapshots littered amongst them. One near the middle catches his attention. Carefully, he pulls it off the wall.

There's three people in the shot. In the middle is a young woman with teased red hair, wearing a denim jacket with pins and holding on to the arm of the man to her right. The man she's clinging to has a kind smile and a crooked jaw, but something in his eyes makes Arlen uncomfortable. On the woman's left is a clean shaven man with shoulder length hair, a cigarette between his lips and a watch on his right wrist.

He stares at the picture for several long moments before looking at Duke. "I am completely lost," he admits, "Please explain."

Duke sighs as he settles on the sofa, seemingly not caring about the dust. "You have to understand all this information is secondhand. There are parts I don't even understand." He takes a deep breath before looking at Arlen seriously. "Miss Holloway was a witch."

"... okay." 

"I know it sounds insane, but she had this power. She could hypnotize people, enter your mind. I have no clue how she did it, but she did. She could probably even do more." Duke glances at the tray on its own little table. "Before she died, she told me there was a powerful entity at work, who had ill intent for the world as we know it. She said the entity's envoy was a man named Wiley, who wore all denim, like you said."

Ice cold fear pierces Arlen to his core. That would make sense, but does it really? "So what happened?" He asks as he walks over to the tray. It has a velvet inlay, with a knife shaped indentation, but it's empty.

"She said she had to fight Wiley and one of them would have to die." Duke lets out a shaky breath. "Her body was found in the Starlight Theater. The building had been closed for repairs. The work crew came in to find her body in the middle of the stage. They still don't know how it got there, the theater was locked when they arrived."

It feels like his veins are turning to ice. "So what does this Wiley bastard want with me?"

"I have no clue," Duke says.

That's reassuring. On a whim, Arlen flips over the Polaroid. On the back, in purple glitter ink, is written W. Cross, Me, J. McNamara, followed by a date some twenty odd years ago. There's a small heart next to Cross' name. 

"Maybe this stuff can help though!" Duke suggests, "Maybe-"

Arlen cuts him off with a laugh. "If a literal witch didn't stand a chance against this guy,  I doubt I do." He turns to walk out. "Thanks for telling me all this, Duke. Take care."

The entire drive home, Arlen feels numb. His head is swirling with thoughts, trying to connect the dots. Is any of this even real? Maybe Duke is fucking with him for asking about his dead friend. That's a possibility. Something deep in Arlen's gut tells him that's not what's happening though.

He parks in his driveway before climbing out,  still holding the snapshot. It feels important, even if he's not sure why yet. Like writing an amazing piece of dialogue and not knowing where in the story you're going to put it.

He flips on the light as he walks into the house. He heads to the kitchen, turning on the light there as well. He puts the Polaroid on the fridge, keeping it in place with a magnet, before opening the fridge to pull out a hard cider. He twists the top off and takes a long drink before turning around.

His heart drops, ice cold fear creeping through his body at the sight of a green apple sitting on his island counter.

Note: *baseball slides across the finish line* I made it! Arlen Mercier is my original character, please do not use without my permission

[98prilla]

Hidden Shapes

Next

Previous

AO3

...

He aches. Every bone and muscle and sinew seems to throb with pain, and he hisses, hearing the soft papery sound of his scales brushing against each other, coiling and shifting groggily as he forces his eyes open.

 “Jan? You with us?” He blinks, at the blurry form of Remus, hovering over him, managing a nod, though his eyes are already drifting shut. It must be bad, if he’s shifted himself, though he doesn’t remember anything happening.

 “Oh, snakey, you just hang in there, ok? We’re taking care of you.” He feels a hand brush through his hair, leaning into it as he drifts off again.

…

The fire. The fire is back.

 It’s scorching heat, up his tail, writhing around his arms, smoke wrapping around his throat, forcing itself into his lungs, and he gasps for air, trying to escape, trying to flee, but his wrists are bound, he’s tied on a stake while the pyre rages around him, the flames licking at his scales, and he bares his teeth, lunging away, lunging towards one of the figures dancing in the flames, stealing his air, and he hears a yelp, as his fangs sink into something, before being shoved off, shoved away, growling as his arms are pinned, a weight on his tail, and he can’t get it off, he thrashes, but he can’t get it off, can’t get free, no matter how hard he hisses and spits and writhes.

 “JANUS!” The voice breaks through, just barely, just enough to make him hesitate, to stop, surprise washing over him, though his fangs are still bared, still ready to bite. “Janus. Breathe. It’s ok, it’s just me, just Virgil, you’re ok, please, just breathe.” He inhales sharply, deeply, gasping, he hadn’t realized he was holding his breath. Finally his vision clears, after several long moments, locking on Virgil’s purple eyes, pale face, messier than usual makeup. He’s panting slightly, sitting atop him, atop his tail, pinning his wrists to the ground, concern and fear playing across his features.

“V-Vee?” Virgil’s face softens, and he nods, eyes searching his face.

 “It’s me, Jan. It’s ok. You had a nightmare and started panicking, lashing out. I’m gonna let you up now, ok? Unless you wanna have a go at Remus, too, he deserves it, probably.” He huffs at that, as Virgil releases him, helps him to sit.

 “Oooh, could you crush me? Maybe I should make a giant snake to constrict me! Do you think my ribs would crack, and explode through my chest, and my beating heart would be visible before I’m devoured whole by its giant maw?”

 “wonderful, Remus, thank you for that lovely vision.” He replies, earning a laugh from Remus, a lopsided grin from Virgil.

 Then Virgil hisses in a sharp breath, squeezing his eyes shut, hand fisting into the fabric of his hoodie.

 “Vee?” Remus asks, worry tinging his tone, and Janus’s eyes widen, noticing the pinprick beads of red against Virgil’s neck for the first time, the trickle of blood running down in rivulets, realizing what must have happened.

 “I bit you.” He whispers, as Virgil shakes, doubling over. “I bit you!”

 “Fine… I’ll be fine…” He gasps out, voice shaking, echoing with tempest tongue as his shadows darken, lengthen.

 “Kiddos? You ok? I heard a ruckus?” Patton asks, popping into the room, instantly hurrying to Virgil’s side.

 “Virg?” His voice is soft, but Virgil flinches, eyes darting up to look at him, and he yelps, stumbling backwards. The whites of Virgil’s eyes have turned black, his usually dark eyes a near glowing neon violet. Underneath are six more eyes in total, dark, shiny things. As he watches, his canines lengthen into fangs.

 “nononono…” Virgil mumbles, and he almost reaches out again, then Virgil’s head flies back in a silent scream, eyes blazing with light, dark fire exploding out of him, writhing around him, and eight, long, spindly apendages sprout from his back, then the darkness releases Virgil, and he sprawls across the ground, trembling, from pain, exhaustion, or fear, Patton can’t tell, maybe a bit of all of them.

 “Virgil-“ Before he can get more out of his mouth, Virgil lurches to his feet, to his eight black legs, eyes wide and shaking, and he bolts, flashing past Patton so fast he’s barely even a blur, vanishing through the door to his room, leaving the rest of them in a stunned silence.

 “Fuck a duck.” Remus mutters, eyes wide, staring after him for a second, before bolting to his feet and charging up the stairs, slamming the door to his own room, surprising and confusing Patton further, before his attention turns to Janus, who’s own face is pale, brows drawn.

 “So. Um. What… just… happened?” He squeaks out, trying to keep from straight up panicking. Janus lets out a long sigh, head thumping back against the couch cushions.

 “I had a nightmare. I lashed out. And I… bit him.”

 “Oh. So… is that why he turned into… that?” Janus groans, tail twisting with uncertainty.

 “Yes. And no. My bite reveals things. The absolute truth of what… who… someone is. And the more you fight the venom, the more it hurts, until it forces you to change into your truest reflection, reveals you fully. Which is exactly what it did, to Virgil. It revealed the truth he’s been so carefully hiding.” Patton tilted his head, thinking over the implications, before his mouth formed a silent ‘o’, realization washing over him.

 “his animal. He’s… a spider?” Janus nods, closing his eyes in confirmation. “oh. Oh no. Oh, no wonder he was so scared! Oh, he probably thinks I’ll be scared of him, doesn’t he? Knowing him, he probably thinks I’ll hate him and never want to see him again! Oh, this is not good!”

 “He’ll be long gone in the imagination by now, Remus’s side. He is exceptionally excellent at hiding. Remember to look up.” He mumbles, exhaustion washing over him.

 “Lo, Ro!” Patton calls, the two of them rising up moments later. “Logan, I need you to stay with him, ok? His fever just broke, so Janus, try and stay awake for a bit, just to eat something, ok?” He nods, though the task seems impossible. “Roman, I need you with me. We’re going to the imagination.”

 “Padre, I love taking you on quests, but is now really-“

 “Remus’s side. We need to find Virgil, I’ll explain more as we move, let’s go!” Without further explanation, Patton pulled Roman up the stairs, leaving Logan and Janus alone.

 “Well. That was… sudden. I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.” Logan murmurs, turning his full attention back to Janus, who frowns slightly, eyes drifting back open, as he looks at himself, realizing his tail has shifted back, though he still has more scales than usual.

 “Me too, apparently. Though I may have inadvertently thrown Virgil into a crisis."

 “So I gathered. How are you feeling? Any symptoms?” he shakes his head.

 “no. Just… tired, I suppose."

 “Excellent. Then maybe you can inform me of why you didn’t tell anyone you were feeling ill, much less to the extent that you were.” He winces at the colder tone to Logan's voice, though he can tell it’s out of worry.

 “I… didn’t think to. I didn’t think you would want to be bothered, by me. I would have, truly, if I’d been aware how bad it was going to get.”

 “You are not a bother, Janus, your health, both physical and mental, is important to me, as well as the rest of us. I would request you come to us, with any future problems, before you’re so fevered you’re hallucinating.” He huffs a small laugh at Logan's dry tone, nodding once more.

  “Will do, Logan. If that’s all settled, I believe someone promised food?”

[wintersxsoul]

Ancient Love (2)

Summary: Loki never thought he would fall in love with a mortal, but much less that he would lose you as fast as he did. But…did he really lose you?

Pairing: Loki x Female Viking!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Dirty talking, mentions of sex and all that stuff.

A/N: Finally I get to finish this chapter. It’s been almost done for almost a week, I’m a mess ugh ily. Please, give feedback, a reblog never hurt no one and it really keeps me motivated to keep writing.

As always, Masterlist and Taglist are on my blog bio!

As weeks went by, you spent less and less time on the village and more in the woods, with the company of your foreigner friend. You were stubborn so you were struggling to admit your feelings to yourself, knowing what that could bring you. You discovered new things about the world you lived in thanks to Loki, his extent knowledge always taking you aback. He was soft and caring but something in his demeanor denoted a strong feeling of loneliness, you never asked him about it though, maybe with time he would open up to you. Loki, on the other hand, was falling for your beauty and strength of spirit, a warrior indeed. You moved around the woods like you belonged there, swaying around like leaves on the wind.

The day Loki knew he loved you was the day you were sparring with him, you achieved to pin him on the soft grass your sword threatening to cut his throat open if he moved. Your faces were mere inches apart and you could feel his hot breath on your cold lips, for a brief moment you thought it was finally going to happen but the bubble burst when you heard a loud caw coming from a crow that was sitting on a branch, staring at you.

“Let’s go, it’s getting late.” You stood up and reached out to help him get up, a shiver ran down your spine when your hands made contact for the first time, something blooming warmly in your heart.

You walked slowly through the woods admiring how the moon lit the top of the trees, the dark green shades appearing to be silver. Loki was silently admiring you, how your hair flowed with the wind and the moonlight making your skin glow. A true goddess of the woods, he thought. He would have never thought he was capable of loving someone, but there you were, making his heart ache.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You stopped dead in your tracks when you realized he had a weird expression on his face, maybe thinking that you did something to upset him. Loki’s eyes widened when you looked at him, confused and you also seemed to be scared, your eyes betraying you.

“I...uhm I think I...you have something in your hair.” He reached out to get it off your hair, a fake leaf he created to hide his true thoughts.

“Oh...okay, thank you.” You placed a strand of hair behind your ear and started walking, leaving Loki behind. He ran to you after he scolded himself, totally missing how you sighed heavily, longing for him. You were walking besides him really close, your hands brushing lightly, until you gathered the strength to intertwine your fingers with his. You heard his breath hitch but said nothing, smiling to yourself. Small victories, you thought.

Loki was hard to approach at first, you were sure he had secluded himself so deeply he forgot how to interact with someone, but as the first days went by, his actions changed, leading you to that exact moment.

Most of the nights, you slept at his hut but that night, something felt different. You could feel he was nervous and that made you aware that something you didn’t know was going on.

He stopped in front of his door and looked at you, his green eyes piercing yours. You instantly saw what was troubling him but you wanted, needed, to hear it from his own mouth.

“I’ve always thought I was incapable of bearing this kind of feelings in my chest, but you’ve set a fire inside that I’m not able to extinguish. And I do not have the will or power to do so.” He had his hand pressed on his left side of the chest, on top of his heart. Your eyes widened at his honesty and you were now able to see the love and adoration in his gaze. You placed your hand on top of his while you moved the other one to cup his cheek.

“Loki, my heart and soul are yours.” That’s all it took for him to close the space between you, his lips softly colliding against yours. Your eyes fluttered closed, your whole self melting into his arms. Loki let out a soft whimper and you moaned into his mouth, deepening the kiss, trying to pour all the love, adoration, passion and total surrender of your barriers.

Loki felt he was about to burst into flames, your breath filling his lungs with your sweet scent. He moved his hands to your waist, pulling you closer to him, your chest colliding to his, both of your hearts beating rapidly, pounding with lust. You ran your hands through his raven locks and pulled, making Loki’s breath hitch and you bit his bottom lip after tracing it with your tongue. He pulled apart trying to catch his breath and pressed his forehead against yours.

He slowly opened his eyes and watched you adoringly, both of your gazes full of desire.

“If we continue, I won’t be able to stop.” You said out of breath still right before Loki leaned in to kiss you again, this time more needy and intense.

“Then don’t.” He added, his voice low and hoarse.

-

“Do we really have to get out?” You whined at him, the coldness of the morning hitting your bare skin. Loki gave your dry lips a soft peck and got out of bed, in all his naked glory.

“We’ve been rolling on the bed for two days, Y/n. We really have to get out. We barely have food and water left.” You let out a sigh and grabbed his wrist before he could move further from the bed.

“I can think of a few very nutritional meals.” He looked at you amused by your insatiable thirst, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted by your offer, after all, he had the stamina of a god.

“Ástin mín (my love), just stay in bed and I’ll go find us something to eat.” You pouted but nodded, pulling the furs up to cover your body, watching him get dressed.

“Óst min, kyss mik (my love, kiss me.)” You tried to sound demanding but your voice trembled in anticipation, your lips longing for his, your body already missing his heat. He leaned in and pressed a kiss on top of your head, his hand cupping your cheek.

“I’ll be back before dawn, warm the bed for me.” You smiled at him lovingly and snuggled up in the bed, smelling Loki’s scent in the huge blanket.

Loki knew it would take him a few hours to hunt a big prey, so he started collecting fruits to eat and flowers to give you, knowing he could later find some meat on the village.

After a few hours he went back to the hut, some fresh stolen meat, a basket full of wild berries and daisies. He tried not to startle you so he opened the door slowly his heart swelling at the view in front of his eyes. You were sprawled on the bed, back facing the ceiling and arms tucked under the pillow, your breath blowing a few strands of hair back and forth from your face. He casted a fire, the woods from the fireplace lighting immediately and he also lit the candles, since it was already dark outside.

He approached the bed and sat besides you, leaning forward and trailing kisses up and down your naked back. You moaned half asleep and turned around, your eyes glancing at Loki half-lidded due to your sleepy state. You sat down and pressed your forehead to his chest, your hair covering your face. Loki hugged you and stroke your hair, rocking both of your bodies slowly.

“Are you okay?” You nodded, face still buried in his chest. You finally moved to look at him and smiled, reaching out to kiss him on the throat, a small and sweet peck.

“I’m starving. Can we please eat and then get back to bed?” He nodded smiling at your petition, standing up to cook the meat and prepare some herbal tea.

Months had passed since the first night you spent together, both of your new lives already established. You moved to Loki’s house since it was way bigger than yours, the spot where it was marvelous. You bought a few chickens, a cow and two horses, so you would always have food, milk and a way of transport. You never knew where Loki had gained all that money and when you asked, he always said it was from his father’s fortune.

You woke up one morning to an empty bed, thinking that maybe your lover went to gather some fruits or flowers as he usually did and as the morning went by, you tried to ignore the burning feeling that was settled on your chest, the feeling that something bad was going to happen. You were preparing some herbal tea when rain started to fall heavily on the roof of the hut, frowning, you went outside to check if it was really raining. It was very rare that it rained at this time of year, maybe the gods listened to someone’s prayers like they did with yours, it was the only logical explanation, for you at least. Loki on the other hand hurried through the woods to get to you knowing that you weren’t safe.

Just when the wooden house was in his field vision, he heard a scream, your scream, and it wasn’t coming from the house, so he ran, he ran so fast he thought his lungs were bleeding and oh god, how much he wanted that to be true because it wouldn’t be as painful as seeing what was in front of him.

[caffeineivore]

Write A Go Go!

A Spirits Interlude **

The club is packed, steamy with heated bodies, redolent with the sultry scent of sweat and top shelf vodka and expensive makeup. The DJ is on fire, the VIP section boasts several supermodels, fawn-limbed and glassy-eyed, along with a few professional athletes rowdy after several beers, and on all three levels, the bartenders are running through bottle after bottle amidst the endless line of partiers. 

The man is impeccably dressed in a pin-striped blazer and a blood-red silk shirt, a felt fedora perched jauntily on the top of his tawny hair. He stays on the outskirts of the main group writhing on the dance floor, amber eyes watchful as they slide over the sinuous ripple of flesh. There’s a bachelorette party on the main floor, easily recognizable by the matching candy-pink sashes. He pauses over them-- quite tipsy, to a one, and delectable in the best way-- but large groups present their difficulties. 

Almost fatefully, a voice sounds behind him, and it’s the bartender, a cute, buxom girl with curly red hair and a great smile. “What’re you having?” 

The man smiles, revealing brilliantly white teeth. “Oh, well, hello. And could I trouble you for a Brandy Alexander, my sweet?”

The red-haired bartender lets out a giggle. “Coming right up. Y’know, I would have pegged you as a Scotch rocks type of guy. Not someone who’d be into sweet drinks.”

“Oh,” The man leans forward, eyes fixed hypnotically upon hers. “But I have-- very much-- a sweet tooth that can’t be denied.”

The bartender, Molly, gives him his Brandy Alexander a few moments later, and though she’s slammed, she manages to check up on him with a flattering frequency, and he learns bits and pieces about her over the din of music and cheers and glasses clinking and high heels on hard floors. She’d moved into a new place recently after her previous roommate had gotten married, and now lived with a good friend who worked for Verizon, and they kept opposite schedules. The man’s a good listener, who nods with very flattering interest at all the appropriate moments, and leaves a crisp hundred-dollar-bill on the bar after finishing his solo drink. Even for an anticipatedly busy and profitable night, it’s an eye-catching tip, and so Molly has nothing but positive feelings towards the man, who never did leave his name, unfortunately.

She’s exhausted but wired by half-past four in the morning as she’s walking out of the main doors of the club, and the streets are quiet at this hour as she makes the quick trek towards the subway station. When a shadowy figure steps into her path, she yelps-- but the alarm quickly morphs into a smile. “Oh, it’s you. I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

The man, who’d been leaning against the wall, takes off his hat in a gesture almost courtly. “Oh, do not be alarmed, my sweet.” His hair, uncovered, is a thick and voluminous mane, and under the brilliance of the street lights, she sees faint freckles at his cheekbones and temples, an almost unearthly glow to his eyes. “I would never let someone else harm you.”

Something about the way he says it is a bit unnerving, and Molly takes an instinctive step back, the finely-honed wariness of one who worked late nights in the big city kicking in. “Well, good night. And.... AHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

It’s a blur of motion and terror-- she has no more than a moment to glimpse another face-- a cruel, bestial one red-eyed with hunger and terrifying with bared fangs, lunging straight toward her, and then she’s knocked sprawling, knees and elbows jarring as they hit the pavement, and there’s suddenly someone-- something-- standing between her and the predator’s teeth, a woosh of fire and silver light. She hears the snap of jaws and the sickening, shredding noise of teeth sinking in, tearing, but she’s too terrified to look up. This is how my life ends. Mauled on the sidewalk. Oh, God, I’m too young to die...

“The way of the Lord is a stronghold to the blameless, but destruction to evildoers.“ A new voice, deep and yet wrathful, breaks through her terror, and she hears the clash of something metallic striking with great enough force that the whole sidewalk shudders, then the high, eerie, yelping laugh of something not quite human. 

A whistle, and then the lovely, androgynous face of a young man appears, stooping down in front of her, eyes the golden green of peridots staring into her face. “Come on, let’s get you out of here, poor girl.” 

“Who are you?” Molly gasps, even as the man pulls her up with surprising strength and ushers her quickly away. Behind them, ferocious sounds of battle carry on-- ripping fabric, the patter of heavy feet, the scrape and clang of metal. “Why should I trust you? What WAS that?!”

“A friend. I was in the area, as it were,” The man smiles, and she’s quite certain that he could pass muster for Colgate commercials, and Molly finds herself breathing a bit easier. “I did call for back-up, once I figured out what was going on.”

He doesn’t say anything more, but before she can question anything further, they’re a good ten blocks away and he’s ushering her into a cab, pressing a handful of twenties into the driver’s hand. And then Molly is on her way, shaken, bruised but otherwise unhurt. She looks back through the rear windshield to see where her mysterious saviour might have gone, but the street is silent and deserted. She shivers all the way home, even after she’d burrowed under the covers in her bed, and wonders if she’ll ever feel warm and safe again.

Dawn breaks over the city and slowly it comes back to life, and on a street still gloomy, Molly’s green-eyed saviour surveys the pool of pitch-black viscera and matted fur with a grimace. “God, those things smell awful when they’re dead, don’t they?”

“Please don’t invoke Him lightly.” A tall, stalwart figure comes forth from beneath the scaffolding. Kafziel’s leather trench coat looks as though it’s been put through a wood-chipper, and there is a vicious-looking row of gashes-- four in total, equidistant, on his left forearm. “The girl is home safe, I take it.”

“Of course.” Zhen smiles in his most winning way at the Watchman, who, true to form, is supremely and almost insultingly unaffected. “Thank you, by the way. For coming, that is. I didn’t know if anyone was going to, when I called.”

“Praying is not the same as hailing a cab,” Kafziel says reprovingly, then sighs. “This city is-- special to me, I suppose. I will always defend it and its innocents. And they have no place here.” He glares at the befouled spot on the sidewalk where the Kishi finally fell, then shakes his head. “They are getting bolder. Greater in number. It is worrisome.”

“Yeah, a bit.” Zhen gives the rather grim-faced Kafziel a sideway glance. “I don’t suppose you approve of me much more than of-- that.” He points at the bubbling miasma that is only now just beginning to settle and dry in the sunlight. His changeable green eyes meet the angel’s steadfast gray ones. “I suppose I can be naughty, sometimes. And self-indulgent. But a fondness for good chocolate and magic tricks isn’t on the same level as a propensity for biting someone’s face off. And what that thing was about to do was horrid on so many levels.”

“There are greater ills than your like, Trickster.” The angel intones, then gives Zhen a long, knowing look. “Moreover, I’ve met your lady. She treated me on another occasion, after an altercation with other creatures.”

Everything about Zhen lights up at the mention, however vague, of Raina. “She’s just fantastic, isn’t she? I’m sure she took good care of you, whatever happened during that altercation. So smart, and competent, and wonderful, and beautiful. And I’m sure you’d rather I ask about the other creatures rather than wax poetic about my lady, of course, and I shall certainly do so momentarily. One must make allowances for a man in love.”

Much to Zhen’s surprise, the angel doesn’t seem affronted, and in fact, almost cracks a smile. Just the faintest quirk of lips, as though somewhere in his undoubtedly long and awe-inspiring existence, he’d seen enough to know something of love. “She did indeed take good care of me. And considering how many creatures there were...” He eyes the mess on the sidewalk, then gives Zhen a thoughtful look. “I don’t suppose you could do something to clean that up, before this area is crowded with the waking mortals.”

Zhen gives him a haughty look. “I am not a maidservant, and certainly don’t scrub up blood and guts and gore, especially not the cursed variety. The sunlight will take care of it, eventually, right?” Kafziel says nothing, simply keeps his gaze fixed upon Zhen’s, and the latter huffs, snaps his fingers. The area of sidewalk where the Kishi had breathed its last is then cordoned off with yellow caution tape, flanked with orange construction cones, and the gooey, bloody mess changes form to appear as a mess of cracked pavement and even a manhole propped open. It is certainly not the prettiest illusion he has ever made, but...

“That will suffice.” Kafziel, with an angel’s typical arrogance, does not seem the sort to dole out lavish praise. Zhen nods, then gestures the badly-torn leather trench coat on his shoulders with something akin to recklessness. 

“Do you want me to fix that as well, Watchman?” He softens the sassy words with a smile. “Not the best look, I daresay.”

If angels rolled their eyes, this one’s look is almost that expression. He simply shrugs off the ruined coat, seemingly impervious to the chilly morning, and vanishes without another word with the suddenness of morning mist. Zhen chuckles, then shakes his head. “Well, thanks and have a nice morning, I guess!”

The wind picks up, a sudden gust that is vigorous but not overly cold, then dies as abruptly as it came. Zhen takes the acknowledgement-- curt but not unkind-- for what it is, and slowly makes his way back home.

[beifongnation]

Atonement

Description: Set during the finale of Book One, Lin must escape equalist prison without her bending and with the help of the last person she’d expect. 

Rating: T (for violence)

Read it on FF.net

Story: 

She was certain her eyes were open, but her surroundings could have fooled her. The room was darker than night, the floor colder than ice. Lin's cheek pressed against the concrete, entirely numb. There was no feeling, no sensation, no acknowledgement from her old friend. The earth ignored her, pressing against her tear stained cheek without so much as a 'hello.'

Lin's hands found the floor on either side of her body and she forced herself up with a grunt, head pounding in protest. The dull ache in her veins hummed inside her body, assuring her that she was, unfortunately, alive. But if she were alive, that simply meant there was more work to be done.

The first order of business was to figure out where Amon's followers had taken her. The last thing she recalled was that soul-splitting moment in lightly falling rain on Air Temple Island. She remembered the pain, she remembered the emptiness, and she could have sworn she remembered her mother's voice- but only the pain and emptiness were present now.

Her hands spread out on the ground before her; the pavement was smooth, commercial. It was not Air Temple Island- that much she was sure of. She had been moved at some point. She felt her way to the nearest wall, accidentally knocking a metal bucket along the way. The clanging sound of it echoed in the small space, a cruel reminder of her sightlessness- both ocular and seismic.

Frustration boiled inside her chest and the steam rose in throat, escaping into the air through her mouth. Her scream would have shaken the ground once upon a time. The tears appeared in short order, but she was not overtaken. She continued to crawl along the floor until she met a stone wall; her hand ran up the side carefully and her body rose behind it.

Standing finally, she let her forehead rest against the wall a moment. It was a surreal moment, standing in the dark room, utterly blind and still feeling as if she were spinning. She needed water, she needed sleep, she needed her bending.

Her hand ran along the cool wall, searching again. She began following it, slowly identifying her space. She came to a metal door and instantly found the handle. Her shaking hands pulled and jostled it without much effect. Her fist pounded the door, "Is anyone out there?"

No response.

She sighed, collecting her thoughts. She was reminded of the story her mother used to tell about the first time she manipulated metal. Lin banged against the door again, "I have to pee," she shouted and then she laughed at herself caustically. The memory of her mother's voice, the hope in her mother's story warmed her insides, but the unforgiving metal door cooled her quickly.

Her fingers slid along the wall beside the door, finally settling on a beaded string. She pulled it and a light from above flickered on. It was dim, but illuminated enough of the space for Lin to deduce she was in a maintenance closet. A mop and a broom rested in one corner, the empty bucket she had displaced lay on its side at the opposite end, a stack of fliers advertising upcoming pro-bending matches were piled along the far wall and a linen bag full of dirtied rags sat beside.

She groaned at the indignity and as her voice tapered off, she could have sworn she heard another. Her attention won, she pressed her ear firmly against the metal door listening intently. It sounded as if a struggle was coming her way. There was incoherent whining, barking orders from another voice, and the shuffling of feet. Lin's heart sped up and she found adrenaline momentarily salving her wounds.

Quickly, she grabbed the broom and snapped the end off, taking her place back beside the door. Her hand reached out and pulled the beaded chain again. The sound of the scuffling and her own heartbeat filled her ears as she waited under the cover of darkness.

Lin inhaled deeply as she heard the lock on the door being turned. Light spilled in, along with a woman clutching something to her chest. The brightness of the hall light was blinding, but it didn't slow Lin at all. Her arm struck out just as the woman passed, catching her aggressor directly in the face with the broomstick.

He reeled backward into the hall and Lin exposed her position, stepping into the light to deliver another blow to his face. The goggles on his mask cracked as he fell back onto the floor unceremoniously. Another equalist appeared behind him, waving his weighted cables menacingly.

Lin engaged him, tangling his cables around the splintered broomstick and pulling him toward her so that his crotch met her foot forcefully. He doubled over with a screech and Lin's foot rose to his shoulder, shoving him over with finality.

A third equalist came from behind and Lin rounded on him instantly, swinging the broomstick at his midsection. The equalist deftly avoided her strike and threw one punch at her shoulder. It was an attempt to incapacitate and Lin recognized it immediately. She wasted no time lifting her stick again to block the man's wrist. She used the broomstick to force his hand to the ground, pinning his arm long enough bring her knee to his shoulder -felling him with one solid jolt.

Ready to run, Lin turned and met the blunt end of a bo staff directly in her face.

Everything went black.

She woke for a second time in the darkness. The room was silent, her eyes opened and she saw nothing. Her hand reached up to her face, feeling a sticky trail of blood running from her nose along her cheek and into her hair.

This time, the desperate feeling was too much to bear and she sobbed without restraint. It was okay she decided, just this once, to let it all out.

Her mind raced as her body shook recalling all mistakes she'd made leading up to this moment; feeding into Tarrlok's plans, relinquishing her job, failing her city, surviving.

Her sobs quieted a bit and she reminded herself that at the very least Tenzin's family had escaped; she had not failed them, she had not failed Aang. She wiped at her eyes, grateful for this one thing.

It was Aang she thought of as she stood on Oogi's back, poised to jump. Her eyes scanned the solemn faces of his descendants, scared and unsure. She wondered briefly if this is what Aang's brothers and sisters looked like as the Fire Nation marched into their temples.

This would be her great gesture, sacrificing her insignificant life to protect them in his honor. She owed him that much. With that in mind, her gaze shifted to Tenzin. Her thoughts turned selfish then and her face twisted at the memory of that moment, even now. The memories that played out in the span of a second as she watched him were enough to remind her that there was no room for selfishness on the overcrowded back of his sky bison and her decision was made. It would be better this way, less complicated, more honorable. It was letting go in the extreme.

And it had worked, mostly.

Tenzin escaped, his children were safe, but she was alive. Another strangled sob bubbled out of her at the thought.

She was alive, but so utterly dead.

She took in a shaking breath and heard a soft gurgling off to the side. Pausing, she listened for it again and again a gurgling sound came with a small, sweet little coo.

Lin scrambled upright, suddenly aware that she was not alone in this closet. She nearly struck out in the darkness at whomever her cellmate was for letting her carry on like a pathetic sap without saying a word. She stood along the wall, feeling for the beaded cord.

Her stomach sank when she pulled it and illuminated Pema in the corner cradling Rohan gently.

"No," Lin groaned in disbelief, "no, no no," she repeated to herself. Pema watched her quietly.

"How can-? You got away…" Lin argued futilely at the proof of her failure before her.

Pema looked exhausted and nearly as defeated as Lin, though she did so without the trail of drying blood on her cheek. Her eyes were heavy and red as if she had been crying right alongside. Less than 24 hours ago, she'd given birth. Lin wasn't sure who was in worse shape at the moment.

"We turned back," Pema told her with a hint of bitterness in her voice. Her intonation made it clear that turning back for Lin was not an idea she supported.

"That idiot," Lin grumbled under her breath, "I specifically said not to."

"I heard you," Pema offered pointedly.

Lin ran a hand through her hair, catching the bit that was matted with blood with a groan. She used the back of her hand to wipe the blood from her cheek and turned back toward the door, trying the handle again.

"They took your bending," Pema said aloud. It was factual, if a little panicked.

"Nothing gets past you," Lin sighed sarcastically as she continued to jostle the handle.

There was no return comment and Lin's shoulders sloped, feeling a hint of guilt. Acerbic comments were hardly gratifying when thrown at someone ill equipped to reply in kind. She turned to find Pema quietly crying into the palm of her free hand and she sighed.

"I'm just frustrated," Lin explained softly.

Pema's head snapped up, "It's not you," she clarified, "I'm crying because my children are probably getting their bending taken right now and I'm trapped in some maintenance closet totally powerless."

"They're with Tenzin?" Lin asked.

Pema gave her a nod and sniffled. Lin sat back down on the floor across from her and looked her in they eye with conviction, "He won't let that happen."

Pema shook her head, crinkling her eyes so that a few fresh tears slipped out the sides, "You didn't see them."

"I don't have to," Lin insisted, "Tenzin would die before letting anyone harm those kids."

Her certainty was cold comfort for Pema, whose tears simply fell harder in agreement; if Amon were intent on harming her children, Tenzin would surely die in the process.

Lin let go of a vexed sigh, "I didn't mean it like that."

Pema continued to weep, pulling Rohan close as she did. Lin was content to allow Pema this moment of weakness and she averted her gaze from the tears she shed in an effort to be polite. Lin busied herself by running her hand along the hinges of the door, wondering desperately if there were just some way to make it out of this place- wherever it was…

Abruptly, her fingers caught on the edge of the middle hinge and she whirled around, cutting Pema's sniffles short, "Where are we?"

Pema blinked up at her with watery eyes, voice hitching slightly when she said, "I already said, a maintenance closet."

Lin took a deep, steadying breath, "Yes, but a closet in what building? That didn't look like the temple basement out there."

"We're in the bending arena," Pema explained, "they said they were going to make sure everyone got to see Amon wipe out the last airbenders. They're going to broadcast it."

Lin was giving her and absent nod as she leaned back against the door, sliding down to a sitting position, distracted by this information, "Why would they bring me all this way?"

She looked up at Pema, "Did they say why they brought me here?"

Pema shook her head, "I didn't even know you were here until they threw me in this closet."

Lin's lip curled as she let out one derisive laugh, "Just when you think it can't get any worse, they pair us up as cell mates."

Pema chuckled too, hollow though it was, "I know, right?"

After a moment, Pema spoke again, "We passed Qian in the hallway, two of the equalists had her gagged and wrists tied together, they were marching her off someplace."

It occurred to her then, why she had been moved.

"To the platform, I'd assume," Lin stated, a ghost of a smile splitting her face, "If they want to make a statement of their power, parading a bunch of impotent Council Members out in front of the public is great way to show you've won."

Pema's lip quivered again, "They have won, haven't they?"

Lin shook her head, "No, not yet. They'll be coming back for me and when they do," Lin explained, rapping her bruised knuckles lightly on the door just over her shoulder, "they'll have to open this door again."

Pema looked past Lin at the door she leaned against with a hint of anxiety, gathering her robes in her free hand, she scooted herself backward slightly, "What makes you so sure they'll be back?"

"My last name," Lin told her plainly.

"Do you think they'll try and take him?" Pema wondered fretfully, looking down at the cherubic little boy in her arms.

"Yes."

Pema's head dropped forward as tears spilled down either side of her face with complete abandon. Lin pushed away from her spot, coming to sit alongside Pema, whose face was now buried in the swaddling of the child that sat in her lap. Lin lifted an arm, letting it hover tentatively over Pema's shaking shoulders. She weighed her options and finally, with an expression that was caught somewhere between worry and revulsion, Lin let her arm drop.

The contact startled Pema out of her crying jag and her head snapped up, catching Lin's eye for a sobering moment.

"I'm sorry," Lin apologized, "I shouldn't have said—"

Pema cut across her, expression shifting from fear to gratitude and finally settling into determination, "Don't apologize. Just tell me how we're going to stop them."

"Right," Lin agreed, pulling her arm back with relief.

Lin launched into their new escape plan as Pema listened intently. Lin slipped the bracers off her forearms as she spoke, unlatching them at the hinge to expose a glinting dagger sheathed just inside the casing.

"I know you're a pacifist," Lin began, "but if we're going to get out of here you may have to use this."

"They threatened my children," Pema told her quite simply and Lin gave her one curt nod.

She didn't bother to question Pema's commitment any further. In Lin's view, there had always been some element of Pema that didn't quite line up with the beliefs of the Air Acolytes, something that lay just under the surface- something a little more calculating than their pacifist teachings allowed.

With her role set, Pema removed her outer robes, bunching them up and covering the bag of used rags in the corner before settling Rohan on top.

Meanwhile, Lin slipped off her metal boots and passed one of them to Pema. They both began working, slamming the steel corner of the heel into the holdings inside her bracers to shake the dagger loose.

Rohan cried out in response to the grating sound of metal on metal, but neither woman paused to comfort him- instead they wordlessly continued chipping away.

After a few minutes the blade Lin was working on was liberated by one final, powerful blow and it bounced out, clinking along the concrete floor.

Pema looked up from her work with a bit of wistful alarm. Retrieving the dagger, Lin caught a glimpse of Pema's bracer and sighed- she had hardly made a dent. Undeterred, Pema brought the corner of the metal boot down with all her strength and the sound it made told Lin that she was far too weak to do this on her own.

Without a word, Lin reached out and took over, slamming her boot over and over until the second blade came free.

"Thank you," Pema offered meekly as she crawled back to gather Rohan in her arms.

Lin shrugged, "Don't mention it."

Pema bounced Rohan in her arms gently, hushing him with a soothing voice. When he quieted, Pema looked up continuing, "No, I mean- thank you, for what you did back there."

Lin nodded once, reiterating, "Don't mention it."

"I know you didn't do it for us, I know you and Tenzin-"

"I said, 'Don't mention it," Lin snapped.

She held out a blade, "Here, take this."

Pema nodded, accepting the blade and Lin's words at once.

Lin stood, making her way to the pile of rags that had so recently doubled as a makeshift bassinet. She gathered a few rags, wrapping them carefully around the blunt end of the dagger in her hand to create a crude handle of sorts.

Pema mimicked her action without a word. They worked in silence before Lin spoke out, "I did it for Aang."

Pema looked up and they locked eyes for a moment, "I wish I had gotten to know him," Pema replied softly.

Lin nodded, looking back to the project in her hands. She tied off one rag and gathered the next, "…he would have liked you."

Lin neglected to catch Pema's eyes then at the risk of seeing the smile that undoubtedly adorned her face, it was a little too much give on Lin's part and she opted to watch Pema's hands instead- swaddling the blade carefully, much in the same way she did her babies.

It was then that Lin realized that in their own way, they'd both done something right by Aang today.

Her reflections were cut short by the distant sound of a shouting voice. Lin and Pema met eyes then, as the words the voice shouted remained indiscernible. Lin jumped to her feet, gripping her blade as the shouting grew closer.

"Meelo?" Pema asked, almost to herself.

"Moooooooooom!" the voice called out, "we're here to rescue you!" The whooshing sound of air gusting down the hallway at great speed lifted both women's spirits and Pema scrambled to her feet, pushing past Lin to bang on the door.

"In here honey! I'm in here!"

In seconds the soft footfalls of a whole host of airbenders settled to a stop outside their door and they heard Tenzin's voice for the first time, "Pema! Are you in there!?"

Pema burst into a fresh set of tears, "Yes! Yes! I'm here!"

"Stand back," he instructed, but she was so wrapped up in the excitement, Lin took it upon herself to physically pull Pema back into the recesses of the closet.

In an instant, the closet was filled with a shrill gust of air hissing it's way through the cracks. Then, with an eerily dull boom, it was sucked from the room, unhinging the door in the process.

Lin and Pema lurched forward, gasping for a breath as they spilled out of the closet and into the hall.

The children descended on Pema in short order, encircling her with grateful hugs.

Tenzin on the other hand reacted to Lin first, the shock on his face settling into worry as he reached out, "Lin, you're bleeding."

Lin stopped his hand just before it reached her cheek, "I was bleeding. I'm fine now."

Tenzin searched her face, looking down at her bare forearms and the blade that hung from a dirty cloth in her hand, putting all the ends together, "He—Amon, he...got to you."

"If you and your children still have your bending then it doesn't matter what happened to me," Lin returned evenly. Tenzin didn't seem convinced, fixing her with a pitying gaze that caused her to turn away.

"We need to get out of here," Lin announced, "and quickly."

Tenzin nodded, stepping past her to hoist Pema to her feet, "Honey, do you think you can run?"

Pema nodded, shifting on her feet unsteadily. Tenzin's gaze swiveled to his oldest son, "Meelo, you lead the way."

"You got it!" Meelo returned excitedly, punching the air before him aggressively.

"Girls, help your mother," Tenzin followed as Jinora and Ikki took up residence at either side of their mother, linking arms just behind her back.

"I'll take up the back," Tenzin finished.

There was just one last imbalance and the entire group noted it in unison- there was no way Pema was going to be able to carry Rohan and keep up with the rest of them. Tenzin stepped forward, gently taking his newborn son from his wife's arms. Gratefully, she rested her weight on her daughters' shoulders.

Tenzin's eyes darted from the face of his newborn son to the face of his oldest friend. He would need his arms free to bend.

Tenzin held the baby out toward Lin, "Lin…if you would."

Lin nodded, gently taking the baby from his proffered hands without a word. She adjusted the newborn in her arms. Looking down at his smiling eyes, she caught a sudden pang of familiarity that seemed to ease whatever guilt she had been carrying since she discovered the airbenders had been captured. In fact, it seemed to ease a deeper guilt that had been with her for many years before that. It made her smile, genuinely, for the first time in weeks.

The world's newest airbender smiled back, a perfectly innocent smile that was just like his grandfather's.

[dothewrite]

hey! i know you're not feeling well, so take your time. but i was just wondering, what would kuroo do if he had a crush on someone and it turns out she has commitment issues? like, it's a friends to lovers kind of relationship and she starts pushing him away after he confesses his feelings for her and she says that she feels the same way, but can't be with him because of said commitment issues.

Even though I’m not quite sure what this somehow transformed into, it was a wonderful, warm feeling like hot chocolate, writing this. It’s a tad long, but I hope it brings a smile to your face anyhow. :)

They’re a dance, they’re a duet that never blends, only two voices sliding past each other in intermittent aria. It’s awfully cliche, but it starts with hidden blushes and stolen glimpses. The coffee shop is a hidden gem, pristine and untouched by the outside street, keeping itself preserved in a hidden alley about thirty one steps away from the train station. Kuroo has counted before; the most amount of patrons he’s seen in that delicate shop has been a grand total of eight, himself not included. They usually rotate, one filing in after another leaves, a delicate balance between busy and still, the regulars themselves dancing on a delicate thread of busy schedules and reliable routine.

It’s too difficult for him to stick to a routine. Kuroo starts off with Thursdays, his worst days, exhausted from a day filled from top to bottom with concentrated classes, and he trips over that tricky step that leads downstairs into the hidden burrow that is a coffee lover’s haven. He’s grateful for coffee but isn’t exactly a lover of it, per se, as necessity always seems to trump preference. Still, there’s something in there that keeps him coming back for that too-expensive, gourmet espresso.

The staff don’t rotate, he learns. The fantastical latte art and the ridiculous whipped cream monuments are all the expertise of two people, floating from counter to counter each day, unfailingly. Kuroo likes to explain to himself that frequenting a store for their pretty baristas is so common that it’s not possibly embarrassing if he does the same, but really, that thought blows out of his mind the fourth time he sees her hands swirl their delicate movements on the freshly cleaned specials board. He’s never seen such beautiful writing in his life, and after that singular afternoon watching her illustrate with foam, he starts ordering lattes instead.

It’s definitely weird now, he admits to himself with a dry laugh as he turns a page of his textbook. Which page, what chapter he’s on is a mystery to himself, but it stops mattering when it hits week three and he sees the calligraphy he’s been falling in love with fall onto his table. She’s turned her back to him before he can snap his head up to meet her eyes, so he settles instead for her name and number on a coffee stained post-it note.

It’ll haunt his dreams, awake and asleep, the way his voice cracks sharply the time he arrived for their first friend-date. She had laughed throatily at it, rich and fragrant with promise and breathlessness. Kuroo, no matter how shameless and cocky, found himself staring at the cracks in the worn pavement underneath his feet as his cheeks flared up in a burst of red. She didn’t mind, she never minded his quirks. Quiet, and with a soft grin on her pale, underground skin, she waited for his soul to fall back into his body before nudging his shoulder with hers.

It was a wonderfully calm afternoon, and the girl who works at a coffee shop chose to spend their afternoon at the arcade instead, sipping on cheap soda and chewing on brittle chunks of ice left in the empty cup. Kuroo doesn’t mention his unique addiction to anything her hands shape, but he’s careful to tuck away the small notes that she writes down wherever she can.

They swirl differently, when she’s relaxed. They’re thin and stand to attention when it’s for someone else’s eyes, and her only reaction to Kuroo’s confession about the way she loops her ‘y’s and ‘g’s is to flush from her hairline to her toes and slide a small slip of paper into his hands. They’re nothing much, Kuroo unfolds it to find, but each letter is so carefully crafted that it brings him images of a carpentry workshop, or a sculptor’s studio. She’s silent, waiting for his reaction with baited breath and rocking feet, but it doesn’t even cross his mind that there would be anything for her to worry about.

His scrawl in return is nothing to hang on a wall, but he hides a smile when he notices his reply peeking out from her wallet afterwards. He’d never admit it himself, but it had taken all of thirty seconds from his return home to his pinning her note right in the middle of his refrigerator. It might be slightly vain of him to admire the words ‘Kuroo Tetsurou’ in the confident strokes of peerless calligraphy each morning before his orange juice, but he toys with the idea to scan it and add it to his email signature each time.

Two years in, and their dance hits its climax. Months, weeks, hours spent in a wondrous maze of bookstore, to arcade, to park, to rooftop, to empty classroom, they’ve wound and wound into a serpentine of quickening heartbeats and shy smiles. A gentle seat on the bench before the center of the labyrinth, the two of them gaze into what seems to be their destination, or perhaps their ending.

It’s a first kiss of all kisses. His hand on her cheek is trembling, the rise and fall of her chest in staccato, and their kiss is no novel, no poem. It’s barely a song, but all Kuroo needs is a single note, hummed, for as long as his breath can take, and the lean in and press of their lips together in a nose-bumping angle is more than a note. It’s a word, and it’s finally. A hand props her up, and the spare comes up to curl around his collarbone, tentative and cool against his thudding pulse. Their mouths are closed, their lips dry from too much talking and laughing in the crisp autumn air, and he presses closer to her, breathing her in against him in an attempt to quell his desire to pen his own lyrics across her relentless flush. He settles for tilting her head ardently to the left, fitting their mouths together more insistently, more reverently, until the song in his head grows so loud he has to pull back before he finds himself vanishing into verse.

“I’m in love with you,” they voice at the same time, but even though she’s forced to glance away, their grip on each other only tightens. Kuroo, because the possibility of letting her go seems inconceivable in this moment of his life: he knows, that something as ridiculous as this story romance, will never happen again. For her to say it back- no, not back, but together- whatever God up there must have forgotten to pull him back to earth because confessions like this one just doesn’t happen.

“Be with me?” His heart is open in plea, all the thoughts he’d ever had about her painted across his lips, his face, seeping into the depths of his eyes that held only her. There’s no room for him to feel awkward, embarrassed or afraid, because this is it. It’s now or never, and this will be the ultimate step out of his comfort zone, his crowning leap into the abyss that is her answer.

The life he could have with her flashes before his eyes when his mind finally registers her tightly pressed lips and her shadowed glance. Kuroo doesn’t have it in him to step forwards, or reach out to her. “Why?” Is the only thing that falls from him, and it makes him wince with how sincere it sounds.

Her look is quiet, and he waits for her to speak as he keeps his eyes trained on her twisting fingers. “I-I’m not ready,” she stammers.

It’s a bitter, bitter laugh that he swallows, because he knows it’s a lie of a laugh, and because he still doesn’t understand why there seems to be more pain in her eyes than in his chest.

“For what?” He asks, slowly, “a relationship? It can’t be love, you said it too.”

The next few seconds of silence fly by faster than the pump of adrenaline that courses through him.

“…Commitment,” she finally admits with a pained twist of her mouth, “I don’t… have a good track record.”

“Troubles with it, then,” Kuroo murmurs softly. His mind races for all the possible things he can tell her, the statistics, the theory, the prospects, but he falls into a stalemate with all three. He opts to bring his hand to her shoulder and squeeze it gently as an offering. A fresh wave of relief washes through his veins when she doesn’t shy away, she doesn’t even tense, and his fingers tighten just a fraction against his will. “Would you want to talk about it?”

“It’s, it’s a series of long stories,” she barely chuckles. It brushes against her voice box and it spills out coarsely, like an ill-timed clearing of her throat. “Stories, plural.” She leans forwards the slightest inch, and peers up at Kuroo towering over her with his forever height, “is that… something you’d want to listen to? If anything it’d probably put you off.”

“It’s a warm up, then,” Kuroo answers kindly, “kinda hard to be put off something that hasn’t started yet.”

“I suppose,” she laughs again, a second time hitting the required notes for amusement. It’s barely, but it’s enough, and Kuroo soaks it in with natural ease. This is okay, he begins to think, this he can deal with, because it’s real. She’s real, and the more she tells him, the more tangible she’s going to become.

Neither of them quite move from their positions. A tense, tentative balance of muscle, poised and pulling against each other in a defiant declaration of their minds. Their bodies are clamouring towards each other in a permanent ache, but in between their searching gazes a thousand different dialogues pass between them until Kuroo decides to take the first step backwards.

There wasn’t a spell to begin with, only a tapestry of emotions that they had woven around each other from within, so the movement breaks nothing but the stillness of solitary figures against a setting sun. He doesn’t hesitate to thread his fingers through hers, and she doesn’t pull back from the intimate gesture when Kuroo starts to tug them slowly towards their coffee shop.

This Thursday, two years to the day of his first Thursday, he takes a break with her. In a sneaky move of betrayal, he heads home straight from the library instead of towards his potential latte, and she sheepishly burns up one of her paid leave days for an evening in a loveseat, working their way through ham and pineapple pizza.

It’s not a bad couch, Kuroo muses mid-chew, even if damask isn’t his first choice. The size and positioning would be his realm, they had decided together, while patterns and design would be hers. Perhaps not the most traditional choice of sharing responsibilities, but it was terribly difficult to mind while watching her hop around cheerfully between stores, pointing eagerly at the various swathes of fabric. He shifts deeper into the heavy dip that his weight leaves, and arches backwards to drape an arm around her shoulder.

“Don’t you dare wipe your grease on my shirt,” she intones without glancing away from the movie projected on their wall, and Kuroo grins slyly before retracting his hand.

“Time to up my game, I see,” he drawls, “it’s not fun when you know everything I’m gonna do.”

She doesn’t grace him with an answer, but the swift curl of the corner of her lips lays out everything that he needs to know, and his chest constricts again as he watches her.

Painstakingly, he scrubs his fingers with a wet wipe resting conveniently on the coffee table in front of them before running four fingers against the nape of her neck. “Solo tonight?” He whispers softly against her ear.

Her fingers creep onto his right thigh to grasp it in an apologetic squeeze.

“I’d like that,” she says shyly. Kuroo nods, slowly enough that she can feel it against her back, and smiles too, even if she can’t catch it on his cheeks.

Slow and steady, everyone tends to say in the most disappointed tone. Kuroo far prefers to call it ‘one step at a time’, and he can see his ankle touching his toes as he takes another sure step ahead. Somewhere along the stretch of love, speed starts to pale against the brilliance of a bashful confession, or a glowing smile. Everyone has their own pace, this he has always known, but it’s taken another to draw it out of him like water from earth.

If he really has to say it out loud, he’d say that he wouldn’t trade this couch for anything, not if it’s something she chose for their together. Besides, her solo room is quite cluttered enough with bits and bobs of stray essays and carefree scribbles, and Kuroo believes that it just makes their occasional, shared moments waking up in bed, intertwined, just that much sweeter.

[sherristockman]

How to Remove Water From Your Ear Dr. Mercola By Dr. Mercola Have you ever been swimming (or even in the bathtub), tilted your head the wrong way and gotten that uncomfortable sensation of water entering your ear canal? Often the water will drain out on its own, but if it doesn't, it can get trapped and lead to a condition known as swimmer's ear, aka otitis externa. The sensation is uncomfortable at first — a slightly tickling, eye-watering twinge anywhere from your ear to your jawline and throat, and sound might be muffled. But water isn't the only thing that can exacerbate this problem. Trying to fix the problem in the wrong way using all kinds of instruments to help open up the tubes and perhaps get wax out of the way can make the problem worse or even introduce bacteria that can cause infection. You should not use cotton swabs, pens, bobby pins, crochet needles or even your fingers for this purpose. The trouble is, any of these instruments can cause damage to your ear canal's delicate lining. Don't do it! At the very least, it can cause an ear infection, and there are several safe and effective things you can do to get water to drain from your ears without making the problem worse. Safe Methods for Removing Water From Your Ears Nobody likes having water trapped in their ears. Frankly, it makes you miserable, but to get it out safely and without doing further damage requires an understanding of how water behaves. Remember, gravity generally causes water, wherever it is, to seek the lowest level to settle. Evaporation, suction and wicking are other measures to try. ✓ Gravity — Letting gravity do what it does may be the most practical way to remove water from your ears. Simply tugging or jiggling your earlobe to change the configuration of the tube leading to your ear canal, while tipping your head toward your shoulder, may do the trick. ✓ Suction — Create a vacuum by tilting your head to the side and alternately cupping your palm tightly over your ear and away again, several times. This may help move the water or at least loosen it up so it can be pulled out. ✓ Evaporation — Experts recommend using a blow dryer for this purpose. Place it on its lowest setting for both force and heat, hold it about a foot from your ear and move it slowly back and forth to distribute the force of the air directed toward your ear. This may help evaporate the trapped water. Simultaneously, do the earlobe-tugging maneuver. You may run out of hands, though, so you might need someone to help you with this method. ✓ Wicking — Similar to the way cellphones accidentally dropped in water can be miraculously resurrected (under the right conditions) by placing it into a bag of uncooked rice, wicking may work to remove water trapped in your ear. Try using a dry towel or washcloth to clean your ears immediately after bathing. Using a warm-to-hot washcloth as a compress over your ear to drain, soothe and combine several of the above methods may also be helpful. ✓ Evaporation plus infection prevention — Combining alcohol and vinegar 1-to-1 in a sterile dropper may have the combined effect of helping the water evaporate while preventing bacterial growth. Place three to four drops into your ear with your head tilted to the side to let the solution work for a few minutes, then drain. ✓ Flushing and draining — A 1-to-1 mixture of water and hydrogen peroxide in a dropper and used the same way may help soften wax and allow trapped water to drain from your ear.1 You may feel "fizzing," hear popping noises and even experience a deep itch inside of your ear. Tilt your head to the side, use three or four drops of the solution and let it "percolate" for a few minutes before draining. If you already have an ear infection, a perforated eardrum or tubes in your ears (or your child's), options involving drops are not recommended. Prevention and Why It's Important When dogs emerge from water, they shake their heads vigorously from side to side, sending a spray of water in all directions to get excess water off their coats, but as a preventative measure this may have just as much to do with shaking water out of their ears. It might look odd, but this method, too, would be worth the strange looks you might get. Especially if water in your ears has a tendency to cause problems, wearing a swim cap or ear plugs when showering or swimming would be worth any inconvenience. In fact, doctors advise people involved in water sports (or in water frequently for any other reason) to wear ear plugs. Infection is the thing to be most vigilant to prevent. That's most important if the water comes from a lake or river where the water may be polluted. Harmful bacteria in the water can cause swimmer's ear. Your risk of developing swimmer's ear increases if you have eczema, psoriasis or a similar chronic skin disorder, according to the American Academy of Otolaryngology — Head and Neck Surgery.2 Other conditions also make swimmer's ear more prevalent, according to Medical News Today:3 Excess moisture in your ear Scratches or cuts in your ear canal Allergies to skin or hair products or jewelry Information Worth Knowing About Ear Infections Infections can spread, including those caused by a new piercing that gets infected, and may worsen an ear infection. Some people may assume regular pH checks and chlorination will rid swimming pools of any infection-causing bacteria, but not always. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) says germs can be spread even by a fine mist of contaminated water in swimming pools, hot tubs, water parks, water play areas, interactive fountains, lakes, rivers or oceans.4 More specifically: "Ear infections can be caused by leaving contaminated water in the ear after swimming. This infection, known as "swimmer's ear" or otitis externa, is not the same as the common childhood middle ear infection. The infection occurs in the outer ear canal and can cause pain and discomfort for swimmers of all ages. In the United States, swimmer's ear results in an estimated 2.4 million health care visits every year and nearly half a billion dollars in health care costs."5 Ear Infections and Other Complications Besides pain, redness and swelling inside and outside your ear, symptoms, listed by Medical News Today,6 include: ✓ Partial (and temporary) hearing loss from swelling ✓ Scaly, peeling skin in and around your ear canal ✓ Watery discharge or pus that may smell bad ✓ Itching and irritation in and around your ear canal ✓ Ear tenderness when you move your mouth to speak or eat ✓ Swollen lymph glands in your throat According to the American Academy of Family Physicians (AAFP), swimmer's ear involves inflammation outside of the ear canal and may extend to the tympanic membrane: "The acute form has an annual incidence of approximately 1 percent and a lifetime prevalence of 10 percent. On rare occasions, the infection invades the surrounding soft tissue and bone; this is known as malignant (necrotizing) otitis externa, and is a medical emergency that occurs primarily in older patients with diabetes mellitus."7 Medical News Today reiterates that a severe infection may lead to fever and pain in your face, neck or side of the head. Additionally: "Complications of swimmer's ear may include temporary hearing difficulties and pain. Rare complications include long-term infection, deep tissue infection, bone and cartilage damage, and infection that spreads to the brain or nerves."8 Swimmer's ear is the most common infection swimmers experience and can last as long as three weeks. If it lasts longer than that, or pain and inflammation is ongoing for several days, it's time to see a medical professional. Antibiotics and Vaccines May Worsen the Problem The middle ear infection previously referenced, otitis media, or OM, is the most common one experienced by children, but might not need to be. The American Academy of Otolaryngology — Head and Neck Surgery notes: "About 62 percent of children in developed countries will have their first episode of OM by the age of one, more than 80 percent by their third birthday, and nearly 100 percent will have at least one episode by age 5. In the U.S. alone, this illness accounts for 25 million office visits annually with direct costs for treatment estimated at $3 billion. Health economists add that when lost wages for parents are included, the total cost of estimated treatments mount to $6 billion."9 Further, the usual treatment for children with these infections is typically either antibiotics or pressure equalizing tubes, inserted surgically. But this can lead to bacterial resistance, meaning the infection becomes even more difficult to treat. Even worse, the tubes don't always do the job properly and may need to be re-inserted.10 While the concept of vaccines is to stimulate peoples' immune systems without actually causing illness, it doesn't always happen that way. The website adds that pneumococcus is one of the most common and potentially serious bacteria to cause ear infections (not to mention sinus infections, pneumonia and meningitis). If a pneumococcal vaccine is recommended for your child, you'll need to weigh the risks of the vaccine against the potential benefits. In the case of ear infections, which often go away on their own with no treatment needed, there is some research that kids given vaccines actually have more ear infections than those not vaccinated. Further, more children may suffer adverse reactions from vaccines than any other type of drug or procedure.11