#like instead of being scared he was just storming through the harem + scaring the wives (poor shl) and shouting “move im gay”

[dumbfucksystem]

thinking again about how bingge kept saying "shizun" over and over while sqq was braiding his hair TT he spent two minutes in bingmei's cottage core life and was like i could get used to this. he had no intentions of leaving. im so ill

[serotocin38]

TL;DWrite: How to Court a Dumb Human Bean

Mobei-Jun/Shang Qinghua

In which Shang Qinghua is kind of in love with Mobei-Jun, and misunderstands everything. You know, the typical situation. But this time, after a run-in with a strange demon girl, he’s also oblivious to the fact that he suddenly becomes incredibly attractive everyone else. And they all want him. 

2,420 words, oblivious SQH, slight pining, courting, misunderstandings, harem potential but no harem, only Moshang

High cheekbones – check. Sharp jawline – check. Piercing gaze – check. Broad shoulders – check. Ridiculous height – check. Graceful air – check. Firm and defined muscles – double check. Very powerful – check, check, and check.

Shang Qinghua sighed to himself, shaking his head ever so slightly as he reluctantly drew his gaze away from his king and went back to the pile of paperwork in front of him.

Mobei-Jun stood across the room, glaring at a group of elders who seemed to have finally cornered him and wanted to get their point across while Mobei-Jun was still willing to entertain them.

Shang Qinghua had no doubt it was to pester him about getting married again. Ever since Luo Binghe basically up and abandoned his newfound seat of power like it was the side chick he accidentally got pregnant, Mobei-Jun had taken over full-time, and as a result, Shang Qinghua found himself with a lot more paperwork to get through.

While he worked his way through several stacks a day, Shang Qinghua silently cursed Cucumber Bro for going into seclusion with his demon husband to live the life of domestic bliss while he was stuck with a desk job! And he did not even get paid for this!

The only plus side of the paperwork was that Shang Qinghua was situated across from Mobei-Jun most of the day, and he could sneak as many glances as his heart desires. And if Mobei-Jun caught him in the act, Shang Qinghua only had to tap his brush against his chin like he was thinking hard.

Take that, Cucumber Bro. You aren’t the only brilliant actor in this world!

“What’s wrong, my king?” Shang Qinghua asked when Mobei-Jun finally stormed away from the elders, and they were alone.

Mobei-Jun sat down on the throne of ice with an angry glower on his face. If it were directed at him, Shang Qinghua would be a blubbering mess of tears begging for his life. He felt a shiver run down his spine.

“Do you want to get married.”

Shang Qinghua blinked, wondering if he mishead. Then, his face flushed bright red. “My- My king? I- This- This servant couldn’t possibly be fit to marry you!”

The glower grew deeper, and now it was definitely directed at Shang Qinghua. “I meant, if you ever plan on getting married to anyone,” Mobei-Jun gritted out slowly.

Shang Qinghua was feeling faint now. Of course that was what Mobei-Jun meant! What the hell was he thinking?! He had obviously been daydreaming way too much!

“This servant wouldn’t dare!” Shang Qinghua squeaked. “My entire life is dedicated to serving my king and no one else!” He wondered if now would be a good time to get on his knees and start blubbering.

Mobei-Jun grunted and turned the glare away. “I don’t have a choice,” he said. “The elders think… that the potential candidates they chose do not interest me.”

Shang Qinghua wiped away his tears and sniffled a few times. “Do they not appeal to my king?”

“…Not interested.”

Shang Qinghua thought about the long list of demon girls from various prestigious bloodlines. “Perhaps my king’s taste is... of another gender?”

Mobei-Jun’s glare turned back to him again.

Shang Qinghua was so dead. He just asked the second most powerful demon in the world if he was gay!

He gulped, his hand trembling and dripping ink all over the page. He quickly set it down and put his hands into his lap to hide them. Mobei-Jun just studied him hard, then looked away again, saying nothing.

…so it was not a ‘no’.

Shang Qinghua cleared his throat. “Should- Should this servant let the elders know? I’m certain that there are many eligible demon males that are fit to be my king’s consort? I- I’ve heard that homosexuality is quite common among demons! I mean, Sha Hualing is-”

“Not. Interested.”

“Eh? But- But my king-” Shang Qinghua was at a loss. He almost threw his hands up in the air and tore at his hair while screaming, “THEN WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU INTO?”

He took a deep breath instead. “Perhaps my king is not interested in anything romantic or, ahem, sexual. In that case-”

“No.”

Shang Qinghua just stared blankly at him. After a few moments of silence, Mobei-Jun stared back at him.

“My king, is there anyone you’ve ever liked before? Anyone at all?”

There was a long silence. “…Yes.”

“Okay! Great!” Shang Qinghua said desperately. “What- What did they look like? Maybe we can find them again, or- or at least find someone fitting those descriptions!”

Mobei-Jun tilted his head to the side a bit, studying Shang Qinghua with narrowed eyes. “Small,” he said slowly. “Helpless. Like a baby bird.”

Shang Qinghua’s mouth opened and closed a few times. “Uh, okay. What- What color was their hair? Their eyes? Male, female? When did you last see them?”

Mobei-Jun’s lips thinned as he continued staring at Shang Qinghua. “I see them every day,” he said slowly.

Shang Qinghua felt his excitement dim slightly. Ah, so it was a current crush. Despite being by his king’s side on a daily basis, Shang Qinghua was not aware of this interest of his.

His smile wavered ever so slightly. “Do- Do they know you… feel this way towards them?”

Mobei-Jun’s eyes narrowed further, boring deep into Shang Qinghua’s soul. “…They’re not very perceptive,” he said gravely.

Despite the dull throbbing of his own heart, Shang Qinghua silently comforted Mobei-Jun. Unrequited love was not a good feeling.

“Then my king just needs to be more bold with his advances!” Shang Qinghua encouraged. “Maybe you just need to tell them you like them!”

Mobei-Jun considered it. “I… like you.”

Shang Qinghua nodded. “Just like that, my king!”

Mobei-Jun’s glare grew deeper. Then, he shook his head. “Doesn’t work.”

Shang Qinghua gave a nervous chuckle. “How would you know if you don’t try, my king? Maybe if you spend more time with them, they’ll eventually catch on.”

“More time?” Mobei-Jun asked under his breath.

“Oh, and helping them out would probably show that you care.”

Mobei-Jun nodded slowly. “I see,” he said. “This… will work?”

Shang Qinghua gave him a weak smile that he hoped was encouraging. “Unless your person is a rock, they’ll certainly realize it.”

“Okay,” Mobei-Jun said. “Then, do you… want me to help-”

“Ah!” Shang Qinghua gasped as an amulet around his neck started growing hot. He quickly pulled it out, the red stone glowing dully in his palm. “This servant is late, my king!” he said. “I need to go pick up your new cloak now!”

He gave a hurried bow before scrambling out of the room, the doors slamming shut behind him.

Mobei-Jun sighed in annoyance. “…He’s a rock.”

~~~

Shang Qinghua was running terribly late. He was supposed to go to a specialty shop to pick up a custom cloak of Mobei-Jun’s.

A few weeks ago, Mobei-Jun had dropped a huge monster in front of his desk, blood still spilling from the fresh wound and staining the furs that served as a carpet in his room.

“This is- This is a Frost Flower Tiger Seal?” Shang Qinghua gawked. “What- What does my king want me to do with it this time?” he asked.

Mobei-Jun had recently taken up the habit of hunting rare demonic monsters with pelts that could sell for a fortune or two. And he never told Shang Qinghua what he wanted him to do with them, except he showed extreme offense to Shang Qinghua’s offer of selling them.

So he had no choice but to take the rare pelts and make them into rugs and coats and scarves.

The Fost Flower Tiger Seal’s slick pelt was extremely soft and completely waterproof. It was naturally a deep blue, with black streaks in it, like a tiger’s fur. So Shang Qinghua sent the pelt to a special clothing shop to have them customize a cloak for Mobei-Jun.

However, on the way, Shang Qinghua ran into a couple of demons who were in the process of dragging a poor human girl out of her hut.

“What a pretty little thing,” one of them leered. “Why don’t you come with us and keep us company?”

“Let me go!” she screamed, kicking and thrashing.

“Hey!” Shang Qinghua shouted, glad he brought his sword. It had been a while since he drew it, and he had never been particularly good at fighting in the first place, and he was definitely rusty. He just hoped the threat would scare away the demons.

The other demon sniggered. “Look, another tiny human,” he said. “Let’s take them both.”

Shang Qinghua swung his sword, the weight throwing him off a little bit. He quickly regained his balance, his heart thumping hard in his chest.

If he called out like last time, would Mobei-Jun show up?

Suddenly, both demons’ eyes were glued to Shang Qinghua’s sword. Then, with a mess of senseless apologies, they dropped the girl and ran off faster than Shang Qinghua could figure out what made them run.

It was only afterwards that Shang Qinghua remembered the tassel tied to the end of his sword with Mobei-Jun’s seal on it. Regardless, he gratefully sheathed his sword and rushed to the girl’s side.

“Hey, you really shouldn’t hang around here alone,” Shang Qinghua said, helping her up with a sigh.

The girl huffed. “I had it covered, you know,” she said. She reached into her sleeve and pulled out three needles, obviously coated with a deadly poison.

“Ah,” Shang Qinghua said.

“Thank you anyway,” she said. She looked him up and down. “What’s a human like you doing in the Demon Realm?”

“I could say the same for you.”

“Not human,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “And I’m a travelling merchant. Anyway, I suppose I should repay you somehow. What do you want?” she asked. “I’ve got strength potions, protection charms, cultivation enhancers.”

She seemed to have found all of Shang Qinghua’s weaknesses with just a glance. Each suggestion felt like a small stab at all his lacking points.

“Heh, no need,” Shang Qinghua said, remembering he was on a tight schedule. “I need to get going.”

The girl tilted her head to the side. “Where are you headed? I have a pill that can prolong your stamina. Most use it for sex purposes, but you can use it to travel too,” she said casually, ignoring the way Shang Qinghua coughed lightly.

“Just west,” he said vaguely. “I really should go.”

Finally, the girl sighed. “Fine, fine. I won’t keep you. Here, take some water, at least. You look like you could use it.”

She disappeared into her hut briefly and came back with a small bottle. “It’s a bottle of Replenishing Water,” she said. “As long as you’re thirsty, it will continue to produce water. And it doesn’t take up much space, so it’s perfect for travel.”

Shang Qinghua glanced at the sun. He took the bottle. “Much thanks,” he said quickly. He left before the girl could try pushing any more of her wares onto him.

The Replenishing Water did seem pretty useful though. Shang Qinghua took several sips from the tiny bottle, but every single time, more cool water poured from it. But if Shang Qinghua just tipped the bottle over dry ground, nothing came out.

He briefly wondered who that girl was exactly. But he did not think on it too much because he managed to catch the store just before closing.

“Wait!” he called as the store owner, an elderly demon lady came out to lock up.

“There you are!” she snapped, shoving the door open again.

Shang Qinghua followed her inside, apologizing over and over again for being so late. She grumbled as she went and grabbed the cloak, all wrapped up and boxed nicely. He reached for the money pouch in his robes when suddenly, the elderly demon lady grabbed his wrist.

“Come here,” she commanded.

“Eh?” Shang Qinghua was pulled downwards roughly. She stared at him with her old eyes. “Is- Is everything alright, Madame?”

Suddenly, the usually sour expression on her face softened. “I’ve never noticed before, but… you look like my late husband!”

“Wh-What? You- You have to be mistaken. Madame, I am merely a human servant for my king! How could I-”

“I’m not mistaken!” she exclaimed. “You look exactly like him!” Suddenly, she rushed forward, and Shang Qinghua stepped back, running out of the shop as quickly as he could. “Husband, come back! Your Gui-er has been waiting for you!”

Shang Qinghua did not look back. He ran for a few miles before he collapsed on the side of the road, absolutely exhausted. The sun had nearly set, and he was still a far way from the palace. He had really hoped he could avoid travelling by sword.

But before anything else, Shang Qinghua spent a few minutes chugging from the bottle of Replenishing Water. He felt much better after sitting for a bit and making sure the demon lady was not chasing him.

By then, it was completely dark and walking was no longer an option.

Still, Shang Qinghua was reluctant about riding his sword. He had not been confident about mounting his sword since rescuing Mobei-Jun and nearly killing both of them with his skills.

“Ah, my king,” Shang Qinghua sighed aloud.

“What is it?”

Shang Qinghua wished he could say he did not scream like a little girl and drop the box holding the new cloak.

“My- My king!” Shang Qinghua gasped, his heart doing a rapid staccato dance in his chest. “What- What are you doing here?”

“You called,” Mobei-Jun said sternly, like it explained everything.

“This- This servant was just heading back.”

“It’s late already,” Mobei-Jun said. He picked up the box and opened it. He took out the Frost Flower Tiger Seal cloak and inspected it.

“Does my king approve?” Shang Qinghua asked nervously.

Mobei-Jun rubbed the thick cloak between his fingers. “It’s good,” he rumbled. Then, he draped the heavy cloak over Shang Qinghua’s shoulders and clasped it in front.

“My- My king?”

“Let’s go,” Mobei-Jun said, pulling him in by his waist and opening a portal.

They reappeared in the throne room, and Mobei-Jun led them into the adjoining room that served as his and Shang Qinghua’s office.

Shang Qinghua started to take off the cloak, but a sharp glare from Mobei-Jun stopped him. He left it on instead.

Liked the idea at first. I just felt it would take a longer than a brief one-shot, so I kinda procrastinated and lost interest. Will I come back to this one? Not likely.

[fymagnificentwomcn]

Thoughts on kasim? And his relationship with kosem? Also do you think that murad envied him in some ways

I feel like kosem and Kasim’s relationship isn’t appreciated enough at all. I have never seen any edit or anything of them anywhere. What do you guys think of their relationship?

Kasim’s relationship with Kösem and Ibrahim was lovely! Makes you really wish they had succeeded and Kasim had become the sultan instead of Ibrahim... everything could have been so different.

The most problematic thing about Kasim was definitely his attitude to Bayezid because while yes Bayezid backstabbed them, he should have later taken a chill pill ultimately and instead of quarreling with him should have tried to focus on their common threat aka Murad. Yet there was still Gülbahar, who would never be conciliatory and of course Kasim does have his reasons to be scared due to suspicions of her being alive. Maybe if relations between brothers hadn’t been so bad, Bayezid would not have got that close to his mum and at least sent her away to some safe place? We might never know. Ibrahim was mad at Bayezid too intiially, but later let it slide.

Kasim is clearly well aware of Murad’s true nature from the start because he’s scared at the prospect of Murad taking full power already in episode 1 of Season 2 and remarks how Mu/rat will likely lock them all up, which later happens to him in just a few episodes. This, I guess, contrasts a bit with Bayezid’s naivety regarding Murad - he never expected him going as far as locking Kasim up with their mad uncle as punishment. Bayezid is all about obeying the rules, Kasim is more lax at the beginning, as his “love affair” showed, but we know Bayezid will later dare to engage in forbidden love too.

After Kasim is released from kafes, the relationship between all the brothers is never the same and it’s no longer as friendly as we have seen at the beginning when even Bayezid and Kasim were in very good relations.

Kasim has definitely a lovely relationship with Ibrahim - they are clearly very close confidants and he is very protective of his younger sibling throughout, even being there to comfort him when Ibrahim breaks down during Gevherhan’s funeral or afterwards coming to defend him from Murad when Ibrahim faces Mu rat and calls him out on the treatment of their mother and other people. I also loved when he tried to always keep him calm when they were in kafes, e.g. by trying to mention their childhood game.

I think that following Bayezid’s death Kasim matured and while seating in kafes truly wanted to become a merciful padisah and follow more into his father’s footsteps than Murad’s as he himself claimed. He also seemed to understand his mother’s feelings – he stressed he knew what she had been through and had done for them, how she still proceeds slowly even once he and Ibrahim are in cages because her feelings for Murad hinder her from acting decively. You can truly see in his talks with Kösem that he now wants to return to peace their family had had before Murad took the throne and he wants to have a little family with his mum and Ibrahim that could live in peace and without fear.

Was Murad jealous of their closeness?

Murad wanted everyone’s life to revolve around HIM. And again he only wanted his mother to focus on HIM. He never took into account she also cared about whole dynasty, including her other kids. She was forbidden in his mind to take any actions with thought about times when he would be gone.

This is why he got soo mad about her going with princes to the janissary barracks. He didn’t pay attention that Kösem had received reliable news from Kemankeş about janissaries being already on verge of revolt, Murad’s sons were told to be dead of plague, and that nobody saw the princes since they had been locked up by Murad like two years ago.  Again it was widely known by then that the plague hit the palace and even Murad contracted it from his sons. Nobody knew whether Murad’s brothers were still alive, didn’t catch the plague as well and whether they were surely still alive or in sound mental and physical condition. And since they were only heirs end of dynasty could thus be near and for Ottomans no padişah meant no law, so riots etc. were allowed. It was also customary for palace factions to hide padisah’s demise or truth about his condition due to them fighting for their personal interests (and even in this case Yusuf managed to hide Murad’s later, correct diagnosis from even the Valide Sultan herself). Murad HAD to remember when the mob almost attacked to palace when they wanted to see the princes in ep. 31. Kösem was doing her duty and you can bet that if they had attacked the palace with him in it, he would have then accused Kösem of inciting them or not stopping them from rebelling. Similar case was when Ahizade vouched for him back in episode 31 that the princes were alive and well and Murad got mad because of course he is the Padişah, fate of princes and dynasty is all him, nobody will vouch for him even if this helps HIM (I just cannot even comprehend his sick logic). Again, she was at his sick bed, she left to take care of matters connected with state and her other children, and would have surely returned to his side after they returned from barracks if he had not stormed in. But he’s of course bitter she didn’t just sit at his sick bed crying all the time or better decided her life was over because he was going to die.Kosem’s whole life was balancing so many of her responsibilites.

When Kösem tells him that if he wants to punish anyone, it should be her, not her other children, of course he decides to ask for fetva anyway (and again he KNOWS he’s fatally ill and that would mean end of dynasty and does not inform the müfiti about it). It’s quite repeated pattern – he uses Kösem’s kids to demand obedience from her, just as he blackmailed her about locking Kasim and Ibrahim up if she did not leave palace. He knows she that’s the best way to make her obedient.

Murad in general wants desperately to turn the clock back, but things in  the Ottoman Empire already changed and Padisah was no longer such “God” as before:

If it came to deposition, the queen mother’s acquiescence in the removal of her son preserved the bond between ruler and ruled in a reassuring way that all the niceties of Islamic law could not match. At such times the continuity of the dynasty could be maintained only by means of a living link between generations, and in the postexpansionist empire, it was the sultan’s mother who was that link. (...) Interregnums were periods of social disruption. Because of the personal nature of the bond between sultan and subjects, oaths of loyalty were considered to have lapsed at the death of a sultan. This led to the practice of looting and general insubordination until the next sultan had been enthroned and could demand the obedience of his subjects. At these times of potential disruption, royal women played a vital role in preserving dynastic continuity: by hiding the death of the old sultan and thus preventing social disruption, by protecting the interests of the new sultan, and by preserving the traditions of the dynasty. (...)

It is in this changing political environment that the significance of the valide sultan's role in depositions can best be understood. The mother of the deposed sultan performed the function of providing sanction for the rejection of the individual sultan, thus allowing dynastic legitimacy to be preserved. The mothers of three of the five seventeenth-century sultans who were deposed—Mustafa, İbrahim, and Mustafa II (r. 1695-1703)—were alive at the time of their sons’ depositions. There is evidence to suggest that each of these women was formally petitioned by the highest officers of state—the grand vezir and the müfti—not only to approve but also to assist in the transfer of authority. (...) The valide sultan’s role in these dramatic events was to some degree a formality: she was asked to ratify a decision that had already been made by leading politicians and religious dignitaries. Yet her sanction of the forcible transfer of power from one sultan to another was necessary because it symbolically prevented the rupturing of dynastic continuity. Despite the fact that Islamic legal tradition allowed rebellion against a sovereign who prevented the pursuit of the proper Muslim life (it was precisely this kind of argument that had been put forth to justify İbrahim’s deposition), the devotion of Ottomans to their dynasty was so great that the rebellion of the sultan’s servants against their master appeared to violate their oath of loyalty to their sovereign and to return ingratitude for the bounty he had bestowed on them (it was principally with this argument that Kösem Sultan countered the religio-legal argument). In being called upon to legitimate the subjects’ withdrawal of their loyalty, the valide sultan, as the senior member of the royal family, was endowed with the responsibility of representing the welfare of the dynasty as a whole, even if this meant sacrificing the interest of a particular sultan. (...) The valide sultan, as head of the imperial harem, was the one individual who could sanction the crossing of its boundary if necessary. In the absence of the sultan, she was the one individual who could exercise authority in both the outer and inner worlds of government.

Taken from: Leslie Peirce, The Imperial Harem - Women and the Sovereignty in the Ottoman Empire

As such, Yahya Efendi telling him that even a Padişah cannot make such a decision like end of dynasty (and thus whole state) in bolum 56 is very poignant.

Murad generally wants to bring back old times of when dynasty centered around one person aka the current padişah and when loyalty was only to him, not whole dynasty. He wants to be the most important and this also comes out in relation with his own mother. He also misses how in past mothers usually had only one son, so obviously they focused solely on him, and their lives were supposed to be over once their son died, all they were supposed to do was to be custodians of their tombs and memory. He obviously would love such old times to come back.

I think people are more fascinated by relationship between Kösem and Murad, and while it is interesting, at the same time they miss they could never be a working “power duo” - they might have the same spirit aka forceful,charismatic and domineering personality, but ultimately it was reflected differently as they used completely different ruling methods and adhered to a different vision of ruling and sultanate. /And of course there’s issue of Murad’s attitude towards his mother and him accepting NO ONE’s support and influence, he was never one for sharing his power even a little. Valide ruling only harem was an outdated concept by this point, but it was what he wanted to turn the clock back to earlier and outdated concepts of sultanate and sovereignty/

Some cool edits:

https://winterhalters.tumblr.com/post/162640540301/k%C3%B6sem-appreciation-meme-moments-with-children

https://haticesultanas.tumblr.com/post/177842459565/kosem-and-kasim-the-evolution-of-their

https://winterhalters.tumblr.com/post/169304031176/kasim-wearing-his-mommys-colors

- Joanna

[dessiekarma]

My Harem is Entirely Bad Boy Types (Kirisaki Daiichi x Reader) Pt. 3

Chapter Three: Get That Girl a Megane!

 “No no no. You seem scared of the ball. Remember follow through with your wrist. Okay better, now try again.”

 Hara was surprised at the voice coming out of the gym. The team never practiced during study period but the instruction as well as the sound of sneakers squeaking was undeniable. Peaking his head into gym he squinted to see (Y/N) and Matsumoto assisting the rest of the second-string players.

Matsumoto had a weird place with the team, he was in the first string but not part of their web. He was down for their rough plays but also usually wanted nothing to do with them outside of basketball and well that worked out just fine for everyone.

 It was, however, a shock to see (Y/N) here helping him out. Hara and the others for that matter tended to forget that Kirisaki Daiichi had over twenty players total.

 “Hey girl!” Hara whistled for (Y/N), knowing it would annoy her. Sure enough she turned her head slowly to cast him a frustrated look before sighing and walking over.

 “Whadya want Hara? I told you not to call me girl.”

 “And I told you not to call me Hara, we should be on first name basis by now.”

 “Kazu-chan.”

 “Not that either! Whatever! What are you doing in here anyway?”

 “Managing the team. What else?”

 “You know this isn’t really the team right?” Hara whispered cattily. “I mean most of them aren’t bad but they’ll only ever get to play an actual game once all of us graduate.”

 “I know you guys are the main players but there’s a lot of first years on the team. They’ll inherit it, and don’t you think its better to leave a legacy as opposed to just graduating and letting the team crumble.”

 “I don’t really think about that sort of thing and I don’t think Hanamiya cares. Come on, you’re supposed to being doing stuff for us. Besides what do you even know about basketball?”

 “I did date a basketball player, ya know? I mean I would never be able to play an actual game but I’m pretty good at shooting. That’s a foundational skill so I might as well teach these guys, right?”

 “I guess, hey where’s Mako?” Hara said as if the thought suddenly popped into his mind.

 “Umm right here.” (Y/N) said with a quirked brow, pointing to the baby sling around her torso. “Did you not see him?”

 “Oh I guess I just didn’t notice. Good job finding a way to carry him around while you’re busy.”

 “Well yeah I needed to, since you suck so badly at taking care of him.” (Y/N) said poking Hara’s side.

 The male was about to retort before a ding on his phone caught his attention. Opening the text, he was greeted with an image of a scantily clad girl. Without thinking about it (Y/N) tiptoed to see his phone and whistled.

 “She’s hot! Is she your girlfriend?”

 “No, she’s not and don’t nonchalantly call other girls hot!”

 “Why not?”

 “Because you aren’t a lesbian!”

 “Says who?”

 “W-what? You had a boyfriend!”

 “Hmm I guess I did. You’re so funny to tease Kazu-chan!” The girl exclaimed with a laugh before giving him a wave and heading back to practice.

 Hara frowned as his manager blurred back into the background of players. Blinking his eyes hard a few times he sighed and closed the door to the gym.

 ‘So can you come over tonight?’

 The lavender haired male looked down at the text message from the girl in the picture and mulled it over. Scrolling through his camera reel he sized up his options.

 ‘My parents are overseas on a business trip, so we have the place to ourselves.’

 Welp that was good enough for him. She wasn’t his first choice but she’d responded the quickest with the least hassle.

 Typing out a quick response, he shoved his phone back into his pocket and made his way out the gym.

~~~~~

 “What’s with all this?” Seto asked motioning to the dozen new charms and button dangling from (Y/N)’s backpack.

 She looked up from her phone quickly to see what her friend was pointing at before quickly returning back to her screen.

 “My new obsession! He’s a character from Paranormal Payphone. Basically, it’s a new game where these boys call me from a payphone at certain times of the day and he’s my favourite!”

 “What’s so great about this character in particular?” Hara asked grabbing at the small figure on the zipper.

 “Besides the fact that he looks like Imayoshi.” Furuhashi retorted tiredly, before his own comment snapped him out of it.

 Everyone including (Y/N) was looking at him in disbelief. It was an unspoken rule that they avoid mentioning him around the girl, unless she brought him up first. They’d learned the hard way that when mentioning anything to do with Tōō there was a 50/50 chance she would cry.

 Surprisingly no tears came to (Y/N)’s eyes, instead she wrinkled her nose and let out a scoff.

 “I don’t see it! And I will not let that deter me from loving my best boy!”

 “Well clearly you have a type.” Hanamiya said sizing up the buttons. He’d never played the game nor even heard of it before now but with otaku shit…you could kind of tell which characters were assholes or not.

 “Hmm? I just think he’s cute is all! Like those glasses for instance! I always end up falling for the megane characters. Kyoya Ootori, Rei Ryugazaki, Austria, Tenya Iida!”

 The guys listened to her ramble off a long list of glasses characters.

 “She talking so fast, I didn’t understand half of what she just said.” Seto remarked as the girl slowed down to think of more characters.

 “I’m pretty sure she named a whole ass country in there.” Hara laughed blowing a large bubble.

 The guys were almost amused by the girl’s stupid antics and none of them noticed the sudden milk carton that came flying towards their table. It was only after they noticed their manager tense up from the sudden impact on her head that they all, without thought, got up from the table threateningly.

 “Who the fuck threw that!?” Hara snapped out casting a glance to (Y/N) who looked stunned as milk dripped off her forehead and down her back.

 Only after their initial defensive move did they notice a girl on her knees not to far behind where (Y/N) was sitting. Her tray was splayed on the ground, after having apparently tripped.

 “Sorry! I should have watched where I was going!”

 “That’s okay!” (Y/N) said wiping the liquid off her face. “No use crying over spilt milk after al-”

 She stopped midsentence as she turned to the girl who had not gotten up off the ground. The boys all noticed an unspoken exchange between the two. Yamazaki watched the situation like a hawk not prepared to let the girl take a step closer to (Y/N).

 “Hopefully you get yourself cleaned up, I’m sure you hate being…dirty.” The girl said with a smiling face but snark laced in her voice. With that she walked away and the guys looked back and forth between the two.

 “There’s no damn way she tripped, you know that right?” Seto asked finally taking a seat along with the rest.

 “Yeah I know but it’s not surprising.”

 “Because she’s Y-”

 “I went to middle school with her. We had some bad blood between us and I thought she’d gotten over it. I didn’t even know she went here. I didn’t think anyone I used to know before came to this school.” (Y/N) said looking more and more concerned as she spoke.

 “Before what?” Hanamiya asked analyzing the girl’s face.

 “Before highschool! I was so cringey in middle school!” (Y/N) said now back to her normally cheerful self. “But I’ve been here for a few months now, I wonder what triggered her to suddenly lash out on me.”

 “Probably because she’s Yam- oww! Fuck!” Hara called out rubbing his shin from under the table, clearly having been kicked.

 “It doesn’t matter. I just… Oh no! My plush got all wet.” (Y/N) said lifting a sopping wet miniature plush of the character she’d just been fangirling over.

 All of the guys suddenly felt a pang through their chests at just how sad her voice had sounded.

 Getting up from the table, Furuhashi walked over to the girl’s side of the table and extended his hand to her.

 “Come on, let’s go wash your clothes and your Jaeyoung plush. We have a washer and dryer in the gym.” He said smiling at her, hoping to get her sad face a little brighter.

 Sure, enough she grinned back at him before taking his hand and disappearing out of the lunch room.

 “How did he know the character’s name!? Why didn’t I think to take her to wash her clothes?” Yamazaki cried out as the two disappeared from sight.

 “He probably goggled it while she was fangirling. Clever bastard.” Hara said kind of impressed with Furuhashi.

 “You do know this is your fault, right?” Hanamiya asked Yamazaki who looked completely offended. “Don’t act so shocked. You know the real reason Mai went after (Y/N) and then you didn’t even stand up for her.”

 “I didn’t do anything!”

 “Exactly. Don’t wear your heart on your sleeve and then be surprised when certain people notice.”

 “Whatever, I’m gonna go take care of this.” Yamazaki said storming off from the table in the direction of the girl who left earlier.

~~~~~

 “What the hell is she wearing?” Hanamiya asked trying not to look at the girl sitting on the bleachers.

 “The back of her skirt had gotten wet too. She needed to put something on while it was in the wash.” Furuhashi explained.

 The flustered male glanced over to where (Y/N) was swinging her legs with the number 4 Kirisaki Daiichi jersey on.

 “Why’d you have to use mine?!”

 “You’re the shortest.”

 “I’m only one inch shorter than Yamazaki!”

 “Yeah but you’re thinner and a whole size smaller. This was the only thing that came closest to fitting her.”

 (Y/N) was leaning back on her elbows, her eyes not leaving her phone and Hara’s eyes not leaving her. After a few minutes she turned to him with a quirked brow.

 “What?”

 “You’re not wearing a bra.”

 “I was but the milk soaked all the way through. What’s it to ya?”

 “I can see a lot through the sleeves of the jersey. I can also see that you must be pretty cold in here after your shower. You look good.” Hara said with a teasingly seductive voice.

 “Yeah? Push that dry over processed hair out your face and you could probably enjoy the view even more.”

 “Bitch.” Hara grumbled as he patted the baby sling around his chest. Smirking he thought he’d try again. “So, no bra huh? Do you have any panties on underneath those basketball shorts?”

 “Why don’t you check for yourself? Maybe we’re wearing a matching set.” The girl deadpanned back, this time not even tearing her attention away from her phone.

 Hara grew red in the face and began to sputter.

 “Stop teasing him (Y/N), you know you have your anti-pervert shorts on under that.” Furuhashi said coming up to pat the top of her damp hair.

 “Damn, how does it feel to have a girl as quick and snarky as you?” Seto asked Hara with a laugh.

 “It’s cause she’s a otaku! All of those types are huge perverts!”

 “You’re hardly fit to be calling someone a pervert.” Hanamiya spoke up, finally able to gain his composure over the manager wearing his jersey.

 “I’m not a pervert. All you guys wish you could pull a different girl a week like I do.”

 “More like you can’t keep a girl for more than a week.” Seto chuckled tossing a basketball up in the air.

 “Why are you guys always picking on me! We’re supposed to be a team!”

 “Speaking of teams. Hey stupid, you’re coming with us to the Seirin vs Rakuzan game next week.” Hanamiya said to the girl.

 “What why would we go to that?”

 “Because Caps is obsessed with Kiyoshi.” Hara remarked only to receive a hard fist in his ribs.

 “Fuck off! It’s because I want to see just how well a team that beat us does.”

 “That’s understandable. I guess I can have my driver take me to the-”

 An obnoxious ringtone cut the girl off from her thoughts. Pulling her phone out she looked at the name and groaned. She appeared to be hyping herself up before hitting talk.

 “Hey Shoi-chan.”

 All the guys suddenly snapped their heads up at the cutesy nickname. Shoi-chan as in Imayoshi Shoichi?

 “I’m ummm with my team.”

 The reprimanding on the other end of the phone was hard to make out but clearly a voice of disapproval.

 “Did you just call me to bitch at me or did you actually need something!?” (Y/N) said with a scowl, startling the guys who had never really heard that tone from her.

 “Umm that’s fine, I guess. When? Okay. At the usual place? Sure, I’ll see you then. Bye Shoi-chan.”

 “Do you actually still talk to that guy?!” Hara exclaimed barely waiting for her finger to lift of the end call button.

 “Well yeah. I was a part of his team for a year and regardless of anything, he’s still really important to me.” (Y/N)’s voice sounded gravely serious and held a deeply sad tone. The brimming of tears in her eyes got blinked away quickly but it was clear to see their shared past was hurting her.

 “He doesn’t like us.” Seto responded glancing down at the manager.

 “I know. But…it wasn’t just my ex ya know? My entire team at Tōō didn’t agree with me coming here and definitely didn’t agree with me joining the team. After the breakup, nearly all of them called or found me to try and talk some sense into me.”

 “And Imayoshi asked you to meet with him, right?” Hanamiya asked.

 “Yeah he says he wants to talk. All this time has gone by and he’s never tried to come find me to talk to me face to face just over the phone. I need to see him. I…miss him.”

 “Then you should go. It’s not like we’re gonna try to stop you. We’re a bunch of cheating, violent bastards but we aren’t going to tell you who you can and cant talk to.” Hanamiya said with a shrug. “Just think for yourself. You’re an idiot but you’re not clueless, so don’t let him think for you got it?”

 “Yeah I know you’re right.”

 “So where are you guys gonna meet up?” Furuhashi asked as nonchalantly as possible.

 “Juniper café, why?”

 “Just curious.”

~~~~~

 ‘Why are we even here?!’ Hara text the group message before slamming his head on the table.

 ‘Because I want to know what exactly Imayoshi is gonna tell her. Nobody asked you to come you know?’ Furuhashi responded quickly

 ‘What’s with you guys and the huge spike in interest over (Y/N) recently? I thought it would die out eventually but you guys are falling for her hard!’

 “Well I liked her from the start!” Yamazaki joined in, sipping a cold tea.

 ‘I just think she’s cute, never gonna have a chance with her but I had nothing better to do today.’ Seto finally typed out, drinking a cup of what was probably just 15 espresso shots.

 ‘She could make an interesting self-selected candidate for me.’ Furuhashi added in.

 ‘Candidate for what?’ Yamazaki asked, much more chill after accepting the fact that he was not alone in his pursuit of (Y/N).

 ‘I don’t want to say until I know for sure.’

 ‘What about you Hanamiya? You’re being awfully silent on why you’re here.’ The orange-haired male typed out quickly.

 ‘Not for that idiot, that’s for damn sure. I’m here to make sure Imayoshi doesn’t put shit in her head that will cause problems for ME. Besides I want to know who she really is when she doesn’t know we’re around.’

 ‘Why is she running so late?’ Seto asked before peeping over the bench, where Imayoshi had been waiting for about ten minutes now. His back was to the team and they figured if they stayed down and quiet (Y/N) wouldn’t notice they were there.

 “Sorry I’m late! There was a sale on manga at the bookstore down the block!” A familiar voice called out as she burst into the room.

 ‘That explains it.’ Nearly all the boys text at the same time.

 “It’s no worries. I got you, your usual. Did you find anything good?”

 “Thanks. I was able to find a few things…umm why are you staring at me?”

 “You’ve gotten so much more beautiful in the few months I hadn’t seen you.”

 Seto pretended to gag as the rest of the team rolled their eyes.

 “Stop it, I look the same.”

 “No, you look happier…and that isn’t easy for me to admit. Ohh what’s this?”

 “Oh umm this is Mako.”

 “My my I leave you alone for a few months and you’re already a teenage mother, so soon after a breakup. Were you cheating?” Imayoshi said in a teasing voice. “Mako. I’ll assume my sweet little kouhai is the father?”

 Hanamiya made a move to stand up and fight when the other guys grabbed his limbs to drag him back down to seating position.

 “It’s a project I’m doing with Hara Kazuya.”

 “The gum munching kid with the hair in his eyes?”

 “Yeah…”

 There was a silence that washed over the table and the guys held their breaths wondering who would speak next. Surprisingly it was Imayoshi.

 “Look, I’ll get right to the point of why I came here. I want you to come back to Tōō with me. The team misses our little cheerleader, even Aomine asked about you the other day.”

 “I do miss you guys but I won’t leave them.”

 “The bad boys of KiriDai? Why exactly are you so stuck to them? Hmm? You detested them as much as the rest of us when you saw the Seirin game. What changed? Don’t tell me its simple physical attraction, you’re much smarter than that.”

 “I guess when I first saw that game…I thought they were bad people. But now I think…I know…sometimes good people do bad things. I think that deep down they’re good people. They’ve done horrible, really horrible things but they’ve also been really good to me.”

 The team was more or less stunned by (Y/N)’s honest answer.

 “‘Deep down they are good people?’ You sweet girl, I’ve told you a million times over that there’s no such thing as a good person.”

 Hanamiya felt the same chill run down his spine as the one he had when he first met Imayoshi. He’s said that very phrase to him as well.

 “I don’t believe that Shoi-chan.”

 “Because you’ll take it personally. You desperately need to think that you’re a good person and that your m-”

 “I don’t need to think anything. I know who I am, and I’ve made peace with that.”

 “But you haven’t made peace with the other half, have you? Ahh its to be expected, you’re young after all and with the life you’ve had you need to cling onto something. I came to you because I really am worried about you. Your insistence on staying with this team is self-destructive, I would go as far to call it self-harm. You know they’ll hurt you…haven’t you been hurt enough?”

 “I have but not by them. Not yet.”

 “Then don’t give them that chance. You know our fears aren’t unprecedented. Think about it, since going to that school and associating yourself with them, has anyone tried befriending you? Does anyone try talking to you when they don’t have to? You’re alienating yourself. You’re giving yourself a reputation and isn’t that the exact reason you left Tōō?”

 “I left Tōō because I have a goal and to make it happen, I need connections.”

 “I see, you’ve told yourself that enough times to actually believe that’s the reason. Stop punishing yourself, stop trying to fix broken people, and stop letting others hurt you.”

 “But Shoi-chan…YOU hurt me. All of Tōō did. You guys saw what was happening to me there and nobody said anything. You were all afraid to get involved, all too worried about yourselves. You told me to ignore what the people said but you never tried to make them stop.” The guys heard (Y/N) take in a shaking breath and couldn’t figure if she was crying or just about to.

 “Someone threw milk on my head yesterday and every single one of the KiriDai boys got up ready to fight someone. One of them even helped me get cleaned up.”

 “They all have you tangled deep in the spider’s web, don’t they? Once you realize that, you’ll never get out. They can predict exactly how you’ll react and change their personalities to be exactly what you want them to be. It’s not just a basketball technique, it’s a manipulation technique. You really think you’re something special to them? Think they’ll hurt anyone who crosses them but not you?”

 The boys could hear the whirl of the coffee machine and the chatter of other patrons. They could hear the cars outside and even (Y/N)’s shallow breathing before a sudden sharp intake.

 “I’m not anything special…but they wouldn’t hurt me unprovoked. Because I’m not trapped in their web, I’m part of it!” The boys felt the movement of (Y/N) push up out of her seat.

 “KiriDai is everything you say they are but they’re also a team. They may not give a fuck about anyone else, but they at least give half a fuck about each other and that’s already more than you can say for Tōō. They won’t hurt me, because I’m one of them and if anyone from Tōō is not okay with that…then I’m not okay with anyone from Tōō. Thanks for the coffee Shoi-chan.”

 The guys ducked their heads a bit as the girl stormed out of the café. They heard a deep sigh followed by some chuckling from Imayoshi’s table.

 “She’s hard-headed. I’m surprised you stubborn bunch have been able to handle her for as long as you have.”

 Most of the boys bristled, save for Seto and Hanamiya who had long since figured Imayoshi knew they were there. Standing up from their seats they turned to glare down Imayoshi who was giving them his signature creepy smirk.

 “How could you sit there across from her and tell her how shitty we were when you wouldn’t even defend your own girlfriend. You give her your emotionally abusive ‘leave your friends or I’ll break up with you.’ bullshit and yet you think she’s better off going back to school with you? Her shitty ex who wants to control her?” Yamazaki ranted out, saying everything he was gonna dream of saying later.

 “‘Shitty ex?’ Such a foul mouth with so much anger behind those words. Don’t tell me you’ve already developed an attraction to her? Is that why you’re keeping her around? To use her?”

 “I would never do that!” Yamazaki belted out.

 “No, I suppose even (Y/N) wouldn’t give you the time of day. None of you are really her type, after all. But I don’t blame you for falling for her, she is quite the catch. Not that any of it matters, she’ll come back to me and Tōō soon. It’s only a matter of time you see.”

 “And why exactly would you believe that?” Hanamiya asked with a deep scowl.

 “If I’m not mistaken, in a few months you’ll have a scrimmage with Yosen. It’s in your very nature to go about your usual rough play. (Y/N) isn’t a ref, she will be able to see every despicable and clever trick you pull. I wonder if she’ll still think you’re good people then?”

 Imayoshi slipped through the group and made his way to the exit before turning around with that smirk.

 “Do remember that she was mine first and I will get her back.” With that Imayoshi was out of the building and turning the corner as the Kirisaki Daiichi team stared after him.

 “How did he and (Y/N) actually date? What does she see in him?” Seto asked wondering how that couple could have ever worked out.

 “It’s because he’s a megane.” Furuhashi commented flatly.

~~~~~

 “Wow Furu you look so good!” (Y/N) exclaimed while burping the baby on her shoulder.

 Furuhashi gave her a small smile as he adjusted his glasses. They were the first two to make it to the game and were waiting outside for the others.

 “What the hell?!” Yamazaki exclaimed as he saw Furu.

 He and Hanamiya made their way towards them, both donning a pair of glasses. (Y/N) stopped patting Mako’s back to gawk at the three bespeckled males. Covering her mouth with her hand she left out a soft snort.

 “Did I miss a team memo? Why are all you guys wearing glasses?”

 Furuhashi and Yamazaki glared at each other, neither having anticipated the other to pull the same stunt. Hanamiya rolled his eyes and cursed his fate for the suspicious situation.

 “Since the game was gonna be crowded, we figured we would have to sit pretty far. The guys needed the glasses, so they wouldn’t miss anything.” Seto said, stepping out of a pretty nice car and waving to the driver to take off. He didn’t seem to have had the same idea as the others.

 “Ahh that makes sense! Hara should be in there already, holding out seats for u-” The girl didn’t get to finish her sentence as purposeful shoulder came and crashed into her own. Whipping her head around the girl snapped her tongue.

 Tōō stood not more than a few feet from her and Imayoshi had a teasing grin on his face. The rest of the team looked like they couldn’t actually believe (Y/N) was even standing next to the KiriDai team. Not turning her head, (Y/N) shot a hand out to grab Furuhashi as he had already taken a threatening step towards Imayoshi.

 Her hand delicately wrapped around the male’s wrist didn’t go unnoticed by the members of Tōō. Imayoshi sighed before chuckling his mean-spirited laugh that (Y/N) always hated.

 “That’s kind of cute, isn’t it? You’ve got your pet tarantula on a leash. To think you changed pets from an obedient puppy to this creature.”

 “Is he referring to himself?” Seto mumbled with a grimace. “More like a feral cat.”

 “Is that a baby?!” Wakamatsu suddenly bust out, taking notice of what (Y/N) was holding. The whole team snapped their eyes to her arms. Some looked baffled while certain people looked genuinely concerned. “No way, is that the real reason you went to Kirisaki Daiichi!?”

 (Y/N)’s face held no emotion and she gave no comment before charging past the team knocking her own shoulders with Imayoshi and a nervous looking brown-haired kid who had been avoiding eye contact with KiriDai the entire time.

 “Ehh my sweet little (Y/N), that was rude. Not even a word to poor Ryo. Looks like you boys are reverting her faster than I expected.” Imayoshi teased looking at her walk into the stadium.’’

 “What the hell does that mean!?” Yamazaki spit out.

 “I just mean that perhaps you’ll find how quickly you’ll rub off on her.”

 “Well then I guess that means you’d all better watch your backs.” Hanamiya said pushing through the team as well and following after their manager. “After all the female spider is more venomous than her counterpart.”

 With that the team walked inside leaving behind a slightly shaken Tōō and a particularly impressed former Miracle.

~~~~~

 “They were amazing!” (Y/N) exclaimed walking out into the cold with her team. “Their teamwork and skills were beyond belief! That’s true basketball!”

 “It was really great game. You guys wanna go grab ramen or something?” Seto asked with a yawn.

 “Ehh I’m not hungry.” Hanamiya responded quickly.

 “I don’t want to spend too much. How about we go to Maji Burger instead? It’s really close by.” (Y/N) suggested scrolling through her phone.

 “Yeah, that’s fine.” Seto said looking to the other guys who nodded except for Hanamiya who sighed heavily.

 “Ya’ll go, but I’m heading home.”

 “What no come on! We can’t go as a team if we don’t have our captain!” (Y/N) exclaimed reaching for his hand only for him to jerk it away quickly.

 “What the hell does it matter? I’m not even that hungry!”

 “Please please please please please! Go with us! I’ll pay!”

 “….Ugh fine!”

 (Y/N) let out a small whoop before snatching Hanamiya’s hand and giving it a small squeeze. Once again, he jerked out of her touch but the girl was content.

 “Alright so Maji Burger it is.” Seto said as the team began walking in the right direction. There was a question on everyone’s minds and surprisingly it was Seto who had the gall to ask (Y/N). “Hey so out of curiosity are you tight on money right now?”

 The team looked to her. If there was one thing KiriDai girls weren’t worried about it was spending money. Hanamiya was the first to turn away, figuring it was probably a personal matter for her. The others didn’t have as much tact and pressed on.

 “Oh don’t worry about me. My financial situation is…comfortable. But I don’t like asking for things and want to pay for stuff on my own. Right now I have saved a good amount of my money for a trip back home during winter break.”

 “Back home?” Yamazaki asked, slowing down to walk beside her.

 “To America! That’s where I’m from. I’ve been living in Japan since I was about 8 but I go and visit often”

 The guys took in that information pretty easily. They’d figured as much based on her appearance as well as the accent she spoke in.

 “Well I hope your trip goes well and…what is that!?” Yamazaki asked pointing an accusing finger at the girl’s phone charm.

 “Hmm a phone charm? It’s Zun from Paranormal Payphone.”

 “I thought you liked Jaeyoung?!”

 “Well I did but then I played Zun’s route and he was soooo cute!”

 “But he’s not a megane!”

 “Hmm? Megane are cute but that isn’t all I look for in my type!”

 “Ahhh!” Yamazaki let out a sound of frustration before taking the fake glasses off his face.

 Furuhashi had long since removed his, as they only got in the way during the game. Both of them turned to Hanamiya, waiting for him to remove them as well.

 The raven-haired male looked away from his team before pushing his glasses higher up on his nose.

 “Fuck off! Unlike you two I need these! My contacts tore!”

 (Y/N) tried to suppress a laugh but a giggle escaped her lips.

 “Cute!” She mumbled much to her captain’s displeasure.

 “Fuck off fuck off fuck off!”

[vindvin]

օƒ ցօӀժ ąղժ çɾìʍʂօղ.

𝖜𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖓 𝖎𝖓 𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖇𝖔𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖎��𝖓 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖕𝖝𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖋𝖗𝖚𝖎𝖙.

two months worth of writing, this thread encompasses most.

pxssionfruit/thegildedone ; Chailee's hands were bunched into fists of rage at her sides as she refrained herself from lashing out at the commotion that had overtaken the townsquare. A shoe flew past her head, falling miserably when it didn't hit it's supposed target of her father who stood in the midst of it all, his arms raised as he preached on. A snort slipped past her mouth and it only earned her a glare from the man in front of her. And soon enough, the poker face was back, her ears perking up at the mention of the catastrophe that caused the whole town to gather. Oh, how she'd love for it to be for a feast instead of the issue at hand. "It must be done! A virgin girl or the whole town will perish! We have no choice!" her father, Robert exclaimed in an exasperated tone which did nothing to reassure the frenzied town since he only got shouts and yells and another surge of shoe hits. Chailee remembered the story and lore about how a girl would be dolled pompously and be sent off amidst a flutter of flowers and tears to the mansion that sat atop the hill to the monster that lived there, never to be seen again. It was the tale that got children to scamper to bed every evening, the kind to even make grown men shiver in their worn boots and the old women to whisper and add more than necessary spices to the story. The antagonists of the stories differed all the time; some said he was just a cruel man who wanted a harem of young girls, some imagined a fearsome diety who was always famished and liked feasting on the souls of virgins and so on. She'd never believed in any of it... until now, that is. Even then, it was just a speck of doubt that had nestled itself in her mind. "We can't let our daughters be sacrificed to such evil anymore!" a woman screeched, causing Chailee to snap out of her reverie. Dark gaze followed the span of the crowd to land of the stout woman who had called out. From her spot, Chailee could notice the tear streaks that had stained Mrs. Lee's plump and red face, the woman a haphazard mess as she pushed forward so she could stand face to face with Robert. The girl who was no older than 16 summers thought back to the time when the town had such meeting again; it was 10 years ago and she was just a tiny little creature, clinging onto her father's leg in fear as the crowded kept shouting again. Back then, it was Mrs. Lee's daughter who was sacrificed. Bone chilling horror was quick to settle in Chailee's body when she realized that Bethany had been the same age as she was now. She was quick to gauge the situation; there were several other girls of the same age and they were all considered at the ripest time to live their lives, marriage ensuing soon for most. The ongoing argument would soon dwindle down to select the lamb and it was only a matter of time before the girl was gone and life would resume again for everyone else. Sure, the occasional prayer of remembrance would take place but really, no one would care for another ten years or so. It had to stop. For the sake of all of their futures. Chailee's feet moved on their own accord, small yet lithe frame pushing past the people in front to get to the front, her face composed in relaxed resilience. Or maybe, defiance was the more appropriate term. "I volunteer." She spoke, tone loud and calm as if waiting for the impending loom of the storm. The crowd quieted down in shock, her father staring back absolutely flabbergasted. It was strange how she found the way his mouth fell open and closed like a fish as he tried to find the words to take sense into her funny. But there was no talking the girl back. "Do not stop me, father. I should be no different than any other girl here. Please." There was no argument after that. Instead, the crowd dissipated to get the preparations of the farewell done. She knew what would follow; prayers to bid her goodbye and a safe journey (though she didn't know whether it was to the mansion or to the afterlife), feasts to fatten her up, bathes and pampering to make sure she looked the part of a pretty lamb. She had always been sure it was an act and never one for fanfare, she'd made up her mind. In two days, she would be sent off on the lonely path to the haunted mansion but Chailee had other plans. She left that very night, quiet and clad in the simplest of outfit of trousers and a shirt. They were the clothes of a man, much less one of a young woman but she didn't care. She'd filled her burlap bag with her favorite books and armed herself with her father's sickle just in case and off she was, on her way to her doom with the tune of the local lullaby on her lips.

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venitempus/vindvin ;

all good stories begin with ‘once upon a time’ and end with ‘happily ever after’. his once upon a time started in 1401, when a silly little boy decided to play with a witty old hag. still a teenager back then, he believed his charm, his promise of love, and his adoring gaze would be enough to make her bless him forever. he loved living, and wanted to live forever – she loved him, so she granted his wish. but, when she was preparing her potion, she saw – he was holding another. enraged, and betrayed she made sure his ‘forever after’ would be filled with pain, and suffering. so much pain that he would wish he was dead, but he would never be able to die. a bitter heart brings about a bitter life – and with the taste of iron on his lips, he succumbed to his deepest, narcissistic desires. centuries melted in a pot – all that hatred, that rage, that unfathomable hunger. he has lived through it all, over and over again. it was his curse to fall, and rise with the tide, it was his demeanour that made him a monster, that made him impossible to look at. his fangs so sharp, they would tear anything apart – and they did. when he stepped out of the shadows people would quiver, their pale bodies would crumble – in an unexplainable worship, infatuation, admiration. beauty was his curse. and blood was a cure he could not afford – the price of life for his immortality, he paid it even when he did not want to. he tore everyone apart – their hearts meant nothing to him, his own was stone cold. his ‘happily ever after’ ended when the first drip of blood coated his sinful tongue. his handsome features did not wilt over eons of suffering, and his oh-so-sweet smile never perished in front of a challenge – the witch did not take away the one thing she fell for. he must admit, after centuries of fun, being stuck in a castle was quite boring, to the point that he would do anything for a little entertainment. this era was disobedient, they casted him out like a stranger – even though he owned them, he was their rightful ruler. he was forced to inflict pain and fear from afar, he was obliged to hide his face from them – and what a pity it was, for his eyes were truly mesmerising. he could not hide for long, though. so he invented the cursed terms – he wanted his fun, so he asked for a new companion every year. a young girl would be sent off to visit the mysterious dark castle, and she almost always arrived on a stormy night. seeking warmth, quivering in fear – she would step inside never to be seen again. he did create the myth of it all quite well, his servants mingled with the public and spread rumours, rumours turned into a cry for help. but he was not really interested in stripping these maidens, or taking them forcefully. that was rather disgusting to him – although, they always ended up begging to be taken. his purpose was another, he wanted to have someone that could challenge him intellectually, that could put up with his moods, his wit, his temperament – someone he could make his companion for life. he was rather lonely, and as mentioned, very bored. but all girls who ended up in his company were either too scared, or too promiscuous. so what can a poor vampire do when his prey does not behave? of course he had to kill them, one by one. *** “sire,” a man entered, quivering from head to foot, covered in water. it was a stormy night, and aloysius was stuck inside yet again, obliged to watch the drops of water wash his immense windows, draping his legs over his throne’s armrests. with a bored expression, and a frown that would tell anyone to ‘cut their story short’, aloysius addresses his subject. “what is the matter now, latrell?” his gaze drifted, as a small object caught his interest. it was shining in the old man’s hands, and he put an effort into hiding it. aloysius’ smirk grew, and in a swift movement, he was in front of the old man, startling him with his speed. “s-sire, I-“ aloysius pressed a finger over his lips to keep him quiet. the man’s face turned red, and he wanted to scurry away quickly. he grabbed the silver dagger from the man’s hands with a twisted smile, playing with it like it was a toy. “are you trying to kill me? how exciting, latrell! but you have to do better than this, really,” his smirk grew wider, he leaned in to whisper in his ear. his voice deeper, and emotionless. “silver does not kill me, but it sure kills a silly human,” aloysius pressed the dagger against the man’s chest, watching him gasp for air with a smile. he pushed the dagger in, the man stopped breathing. after he dropped dead, aloysius stepped over his body and walked away, still bored out of his mind. “thank you for trying, marley. but that was rather anticlimactic. make sure his blood is collected, just in case,” he glanced at is humble servant, a young boy with mousy features. he was head over heels in love with aloysius, and obeyed his every wish. nobody inside the castle liked it when their master was bored, he tended to lash out. so sending ‘hunters’ in was one way to entertain him – and usually they would send more experienced hunters, some that put up a fight. now, those were exciting to kill. *** the big day has arrived, and aloyisus was up early. he hated the sun, and because of his curse, he could not really touch it – it would burn him, but not kill him, so what was the point? he dressed up elegantly, and debated whether he should wear the golden mask, or the black one – he decided gold. he enjoyed hiding his face at the first encounter, he was well-aware that his good looks could charm anyone into submission – and he liked a challenge, he enjoyed it when they squirmed and screamed. when the night fell, he was ready to welcome his new victim. he waited, his servants were around him looking elegant, and put together. aloyisus was towering over all of them, he was rather tall – it made him look more intimidating. when the knock on the door came, aloyisus smirked. he let his servants answer, waiting at the top of the stairs, like a lion awaits its doe. he looked like a masterpiece – the inside of the castle embracing his flawless appearance. it was paradise – and it was hell. the perfect in-between, the home of lost innocence.

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pxssionfruit/thegildedone ;

Chailee had no idea how long she was walking for; all she knew was that the biting cold of the night had started settling over her bones, causing her to shiver despite the line of sweat that had started to appear over her flesh. Goosebumps rose on her skin, her breath slipping out of her mouth in a mist that just melted and disappeared into the fog. The moon had rose into the sky, the wide silver saucer illuminating her path to the haunted castle. There was no speck of stars, nor was there a trace of cloud. It felt ominous, as if the impending loom was not enough to scare her wits off. No, she wouldn't be scared. She snorted another burst of warm cloud and paused her steps, head tilted back to watch the moon for a moment. It was an ugly thing, scarred and imperfect yet it always looked down on the world in what she thought was a dauntingly mocking smile. Her eyes narrowed into little slits as she gazed at it; there were thousands of folklore that surrounded the moon just like how the monster who lived atop the hill was in the middle of others and she had never been one to believe in them. To Chailee, it was always just one moon. That familiar, yellow, solitary moon. The same moon that silently floated over fields of pampas grass, the moon that rose -a gleaming, round saucer- over the calm surface of lakes, that tranquilly beamed down on the rooftops of fast-asleep houses. The same moon that brought the high tide to shore, that softly shone on the fur of animals and enveloped and protected travelers at night. The moon that, as a crescent, shaved slivers from the soul- or, as a new moon, silently bathed the earth in its own loneliness. And she wondered if just like the moon, the monster was lonely. Just as hideous, sinister and mischief filled yet so protective. Sucking on her inner cheek, she resumed her journey, fingers finding the strap of her burlap bag to keep close.The trek to the foot of the hill was a short one, given how the village was small but the moment she'd reached, she was intimidated by how it towered over her, feeling as small as ever. Swallowing her fear, she went on. And as the time passed, the fog grew thicker. So did the stench that rose from the ground. It was mostly the fecal remains of the stray animals, trash that had been disposed carelessly into piles but underlining everything else was something more potent and the cold only made the stench stronger. Chailee could taste it on her tongue and she forced herself to bite back the bile that rose in her throat, eyebrows furrowed with focus. It was a perilous walk, her breath labored as she stumbled on rocky ground that had been littered with several things she had no heart or mind to find out about. She'd fallen to her knees several times, dirt among other things crusting her boots and trousers and when she raised her hand to wipe the sweat off her face, she smeared murky liquid on her caramel skin. At that point, she was sure she was stinking as bad as the hill itself, knowing she looked like a mess. She was regretting not waiting further so that the rest of the villagers would help her up but it was too late; she was on her own. She didn't know what time it was, nor did she have an inclination of how long it took her to reach the top, her destination barely a couple of feet away. From up close, it looked like a castle instead of a manor or a house so many people had called it. It felt like a fortress too, with arcs that disappeared way over her head and poles that seemed to disappear into the sky. Chailee felt insignificant standing at the foot of the steps that led to the porch and discarding the stick she'd picked up earlier to help herself, she climbed up, almost flinching at the way the wood groaned under her weight. She couldn't flee now, nor was she going to allow herself to be scared. Swallowing thickly, she raised her fist to rap thrice on the wooden door which caused it to creak open under one particular knock. As it heavily swung open, her steps slowed down as she took her first step in. "H-hello?" she hadn't expected her tone to come out in such a mousy squeak so squaring her shoulders and stepping further into the foyer. "Hello? Anybody home?" This time her voice echoed off the walls of the castle, bouncing off the corners and into the dark hallways. It was fascinating to say the least, how her normally huskier tone could sound so hollow and as the echo increased, it got deeper as if it were a monstrous groan who gave her a reply. They came in like some sort of pageantry formation, aligned and barely making a noise. Her breath hitched in her throat and she involuntarily took a step back but halted, figuring from their decent clothes, they were simply servants. They couldn't hurt her, right? The brief thought of taking out the sickle in her bag passed through her mind until one of them spoke, the man in the middle who bowed his head to her as if she was some sort of reality. "Welcome, Miss. My name is Marley and please, you have no reason to fear being here." Chailee wasn't sure if she heard him correctly, his words earning an arched brow. Sure, she had no fear. But figuring that a snarky quip would do her more harm than good, she nodded and composed her face into what she hoped to be a serene smile. It just came off as awkward and toothy. Marley nodded, gesturing the other servants to make way before he motioned for her to follow him. And she did, eyes wide as she took in the sight of the somewhat grandiose castle. Despite it's dark and morose decor, it was calming and aloof. Definitely a juxtaposition from the colorful ways of the village she was from. Her visage had contorted into one of awe as she took everything in, not having realized that they had stopped only coming to a standstill the moment dark gaze fell onto the man who stood at the top of the grande staircase. He exuded power, even from where she stood. The kind who preyed on the weaker ones. Yet somehow, the light of the moon that burst through the windows behind him enveloped the man in some sort of ethereal glow. She remembered a phrase from that one particular book of preaches her father read about one particular being so beautiful that he was cast from the skies. Or something along the lines. She hadn't been keen on reading that one honestly. But supposedly if this man was what she had read about in her father's book, why was he wearing such a grotesque thing over his face? Couldn't be. Her breath came out in a mild scoff as she took a step forward, shoulder brushing against Marley's who just cowered in fear in front of the man. Chailee's face was serene even if her eyes were hard, the tilt of her jaw defiant and stubborn. "Hello. My name is Chai," she spoke, tone loud and clear as she came to a stand at the foot of the stairs he stood on. Her tongue snuck out to swipe across her bottom tier, realising she was parched but went on whatsoever. "Would you mind if you took your mask off? I might as well see the face of the one who is going to eat me, right?"

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venitempus/vindvin ;

❝ And all with pearl and ruby glowing Was the fair palace door, Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing And sparkling evermore, A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty Was but to sing, In voices of surpassing beauty, The wit and wisdom of their king.* it was once a castle filled with laughter, and bright light – the rooms would embraced splendour, they would bathe all eyes in crystals, and gold. and with every step, every spin, one could get drunk in its glory – people praised it for days to no end. it was once lively, it was once paradise. it still was incredibly charming --- within the massive walls of the gothic castle, there was beauty contained only but in its colour – richly decorated, a masterpiece for everyone who was lucky enough to see it. the interior was vast, and tall – it almost got lost in the moonlight, the eye could not grasp just how much it entailed. the drapes were scarlet, made of velvet – they did not cover the intriguing windows, lavishly ornamented with delicate orchids. the rose wood was a staple piece in the hallway – the stairs, the balustrade, the occasional wood figurines. the floor squeaked – it was old, history ate at it, the scent of old wood was wrapping the entire room. pillars carved with love, uniquely disproportioned – all gothic art found its beauty in inaccuracy, in immense and pompous decorations. there were renaissance-style paintings framed in gold hanging, of men and women who looked like they have been around for a while. the brush strokes mimicked those of masterful artists like michaelangelo. they were forced to stare at the doorway – and from the ceiling hung a marvellous golden chandelier. the consistent orchid-pattern held in the golden swirls, the light was dim and pleasant, enough to support the room’s glory. old books were arranged on small shelves – their spines colour-coded, fading from a pale red, to a deep red. ❝ But evil things, in robes of sorrow, Assailed the monarch’s high estate; (Ah, let us mourn!—for never morrow Shall dawn upon him, desolate!) And round about his home the glory That blushed and bloomed Is but a dim-remembered story Of the old time entombed.* --- but death clung on its drapes, death crept in, death reached its claws, death was craved in its wood. they stopped coming – guests hated death’s breath. and the once glorious castle stood solitary on a hill, it told the story of the rise and fall, the tide of life – and its towers reached the sky, its inside was hollow. it collapse in its breath-taking excellence, embraced the shadows of evil, absorbed the blood, filled the void with nothingness. it was empty, and broken. just like his heart. ⚜⚜⚜ when he stepped down the stairs, he looked as though he was floating – so flawlessly did his steps embrace the crimson carpet, and the wooden floor. his hands were behind his back, the golden mask obscured his smirk – it was creepily staring at everything around. he was elegant – perhaps not the first thing one expects from a supposed ‘monster’. he looked more like a prince than an evil beast, his white shirt and dark pants made him stand out in the sea of burgundy. his clothes were perfectly fitted for him – no doubt a personal tailor fashioned them for him, and only for him. his servants bowed in obedience, they did not like to keep their heads up when he passed by – his musky scent made them painfully loyal, and terribly scared. there was something off about the way he moved his hands, his pale fingers extending to fold gracefully, falling on his chest as he bowed to welcome his guest. aloysius took his time observing the girl, he did not move from his spot – he was closer now, yet not close enough. there was distance between them, his cold eyes analysed every single muscle in her body. it was impossible for any detail to escape his keen eye – the way she clenched her hands, her neck, her attire, her young face, her neck. yes, she did have a pretty neck – young, firm, pale. he resisted his beastly thirst, and thankfully she could not see his fangs peeking through. other than that, she looked awfully normal, almost boringly so. aloysius struggled to keep his attention on her, she did not promise anything different – it took him a moment to spot the object peeking out of her bag. now, that was interesting. girls hated weapons – he knew that much, especially young ones like her. they adored the ornate dresses, the beautiful stockings their parents forced them to wear. but she had none of the astonishing decorations victorians praised themselves for – she almost looked like a man. he wanted to dissect her, dig deep into her mind and find out just why she choose to look like this on her funeral. it was bugging him, so much so that he decided he shall let her live for now. even if she was carrying a weapon. “sire, I’m sorry, w-we didn’t-“ a servant, who just noticed the weapon, stuttered and tried to approach aloysius. his master cut him off, raising a hand to stop him from walking. it was a sudden movement, and it made the servant step back, almost stumbling over his own feet. two female servants came to his aid. the movement behind did not bother aloysius, as if he could see everything despite not looking. “that would be enough,” he said, his voice pleasantly melodious. there was an undistinguishable accent coating every word, and it did made the servant gulp. aloysius did not tolerate mistakes, his generosity made marley look at the girl in a last dying hope. but he looked away quickly, not wanting to be discovered. aloysius stepped closer, allowing his presence to crash into her like a wave – he got close enough to be indecent. he looked at her for a while, before speaking. “I do not think chai wishes to be hostile,” his voice almost sounded commanding. he did not care for her wishes, it was his will she shall obey. he made it seem lighter by taking a step back, and by letting out a short chuckle. “silly of me, I should have known you are not an admirer of art,” he did not mean to sound superior – well, perhaps he did. his ego was as big as his --- personality. and he felt at an advantage as a species. he slowly removed the mask, revealing his handsome features. his face was immediately caressed by the soft light, and his lips curled into a sweet smile, almost too blissful and alluring. “I have no clue what stories you heard in the village, but I surely do not eat my guests. my name is aloysius, and whilst you are here, you may make yourself at home. of course, there will be rules. I am sure I can count on you to be as pleasant a guest as I will be a host,” and with that he stepped away, walking towards the living room. he uttered a last command before disappearing from view. “give her some decent clothes, will you?” it was a signal for his servants to approach the girl. an older lady bowed respectfully, and offered to carry her bag. marley seemed quite excited. “madame, I think our lord likes you. he is not usually like this,” he said hopefully, as if he was not quite sure about what he was saying. he knew aloysius’ hearing was sharper than any human’s, so he tried not to insult, or give away too much. the servants followed his steps, and marley made sure to stick as close as possible. they led her upstairs – supposedly her room was there. -- *notes // fragments from e. a. poe’s poem the haunted palace: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/52370/the-haunted-palace mask inspiration: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/43/38/e7/4338e77728edfae8350869d39a8ab6c6.jpg aloysius’ outfit inspiration: https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EWYRy1tU8AwjaRq?format=jpg&;name=large interior inspiration: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/1b/9f/93/1b9f9355cdd17cacb85d0e1080663ed1.jpg

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pxssionfruit/thegildedone ;

The castle was a morose place in it’s beauty- grim and underlying of darkness in the way the shadows seemed to be dancing in a whimsical rhythm in the moonlight and how every corner seemed to be hide beasts that willed their preys into their arms. Chai was quick to take everything in; how the servants easily fell to his will and command and how their eyes had a glazed look in them, unfocused yet still at their own will. It was fascinating but she was more intrigued by the man. He moved with stealthy grace. It looked like he was floating above the ground, his body barely contorting in the way a human would move as if a single motion would disrupt the perfection and elegance he carried himself with. She didn’t realize she’d kept a breathe pent in her throat until he spoke and she released it in a huff of warm air, gaze flitting to the servant who cowered in fear. It was funny how the mundane stumbled over his own feet, such a stark contrast to the man who stood atop the staircase. A chuckle slipped past Chai before she even realized it and she would have laughed at the sight had it not been for the mocking tone that resounded next. Thick eyebrows furrowed together trying to decipher whether the man was serious, the mocking tone that underlaid the otherwise generous words that spilled out of him taking her aback. He spoke with charm and grace but there was a hint of taunt in there, as if he was superior than the rest of them. Then again, he probably was, given how his monstrous beauty wasn't mundane in the least bit. She'd never taken commands well, even back in the village but realizing that a quip dripping with snark here and there wouldn't fair her well at all, she pressed her lips together, gaze falling to her dirty boots in an attempt to hold herself back but when another pair of shoes, one that seemed like a mirror with how polished it was stepped into her line of vision, her head lifted, raking the length of the man who stood in front of her with a condescending smile on what was rather a handsome face. Doe eyes that was as dark as pools of obsidian stared back at her, authority etched onto the proud nose and the high plains of his face even if his mouth curved into the sweetest of smiles ever, meant to disarm her. It was alluring and captivating, a haze of wonder and awe engulfing her entire being. How could a person be this beautiful? He couldn't be real, he was a monster. The haze was gone as soon as it came, her own stare sharp and focused despite the politeness she spoke with. Thank you, Mrs. Ruth for the little lady lessons. "Thank you for opening your home for me, Aloysius." Chai murmured, nodding once in a bow. She wanted to continue, prying further into the stories she'd heard out of sheer curiosity but he moved before she could carry on, the command he'd uttered the last of what she heard and saw of him before he disappeared into the shadows. The grip on her arms wrenched her out of her thoughts, the weight of her burlap sack taken off her shoulders and it's comfort was gone as was the man of the house. Casting a look of dismay towards the direction he'd taken off to, Chailee allowed the servants to lead her further into the castle, past dim hallways and corridors that were lit with oil lamps and onto a brighter lit extension of the castle after countless of twists and turns of paths. "M'lady, this is your suite. Master had it arranged to what a lady would like,"Marley spoke, pushing open a set of doors so she could walk in. "Should you require or like it to be changed, please let me know." Whatever he said did not register in her brain, the beauty of the room inside leaving her speechless. The first thing she noticed was that even in the moonlight that shone from the wide windows and the several candles someone had painstakingly lit to brighten the room, it was fit for a lady. Marley had been right in that sense but it was not gaudy, so unlike the frilly and girlish decor she knew girls her age were fond of. It was elegant and discreet enough for her to call it home for once. Her eyes trailed over the enormous room, from the carpeted floor to the massive bed that could probably fit her family of five comfortably and to the three women who stood in the middle of the room, their heads bowed as they approached. "These are your ladies in waiting, m'lady. Mariah, Jeannette and Agnes will always be by your side, should you need anything."Marley spoke again, his hand resting on his chest as he bowed again. The ladies followed suit, dipping their bodies close to the ground in a curtsy and Chailee only took a step back, unsure how to process the courtesy they treated her with. Such pleasantries were uncommon where she was from. Clearing her throat so she was loud enough, she carefully arranged her visage into a cordial beam. "Please, you can call me Chai. And I don't need anything, thank you very much. No bowing too please." The woman in the middle approached, her elderly face composed into one of utter obedience as she bowed again. Protests bubbled in the young girl's throat, close to spilling when the woman spoke. "My name is Mariah, miss. We are at your service, per the Master's orders. Now if you will, your bath awaits." It didn't go unnoticed that they refused to call her by her name and her request of no bowing met deaf ears; this needed to change. But she would leave it for now, making mental note of it being one of the issues she needed to take with Aloysius later. For now, a bath sounded and seemed like a very good idea. She smelled of dirt and other unpleasant odors and if she dared to sniff herself, the stench would cause her to faint. Nodding, she let Mariah lead her to the little door that opened to reveal a marble-carved bathroom, the tub that sat in the middle steaming with warm water and scented with something rather mouthwatering and reminiscent of lemon and flowers. Her jaw dropped at it all, unable to believe the rather generous and subdued fanfare they'd welcome her with; Aloysius didn't have the air to be kind or welcoming from what she had felt earlier, but surely he wasn't too bad. The bath did her immense good, the tight muscles that formed everywhere on her body loosening under the heat of the water and steam. She was prodded, scrubbed, brushed and washed, her handmaidens refusing to let her to anything by herself, even when she was getting dressed. Chai had started making a point to fend them off anyhow she could but to no avail, their hands and fingers were always on her, preparing her for what Mariah had said dinner. The thought of food caused a rumble of hunger to erupt from her belly and she thanked Heavens that no one was around to hear such embarrassing sound. The women in waiting had left to clean the bathroom, leaving Chai alone in front of her vanity desk to scrutinize what was there. She was decent-looking now that she was clean and rid of dirt, clad in a proper outfit for a young girl instead of her brother's and father's old clothes. It was a suffocating dress, the corset tight around her torso and she wiggled, trying to loosen it a tad until she was satisfied. Exhaling, she then reached to her hair which they'd tied into a neat updo of braids and fiddled around, pulling out the pins her locks were held with, dark waves tumbling free over her shoulder and down her back. There, much better. She grinned a self-satisfied smirk at her reflection, the image of the village girl back only for it to fade when Marley walked back in. "If it pleases you, my lady, the Master awaits you in the dining area." Chailee nodded, lifting herself from the little cushioned chaise and sauntered to Marley, fingers bunched in her skirt to keep her from falling. She was led the way she had come, the way already ingrained in her brain for future use. The dining area was another grandiose part of the castle, as morose and grim as the hall she'd first met him in. Yet unlike then, there was no man in sight nor any sign of another being, whether it be a monster or human. Marley was long gone, leaving her alone in the midst of the room. "Aloysius?"she called out, taking a few steps further into the room so she could stand in the middle of it, head turning left and right in search for him. ----- her bedroom: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/e4/6d/e7/e46de721864fdbf9705dcecddce3b903.jpg the bathroom/hammam: https://pin.it/1yENyPG chai's outfit inspiration: https://pin.it/7l2unhV

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venitempus/vindvin ; 

the beauty of the castle was transported in the dining area, the large room was richly decorated, but hollow – his steps were loud, and the floor squeaked occasionally. he paced in an unusual manner, other servants were waiting for his orders, looking quite terrified at their master’s change of temperament. they did not know if they should expect a feast or a bloodbath, it was never certain with aloysius. he finally sat down, two of the women approached and bowed down respectfully, waiting for their orders. aloysius ignored them, he was lost in thought. “what makes you so morose, sire?” a soft voice spoke from one of the portraits hanging on the wall. it was the image of a beautiful boy immortalised to look young forever – a dorian gray, if you will. aloysius eyes fell on the image unimpressed, two of his servants stepped back shocked by the painting’s ability to speak. but they have learnt nothing in the castle was normal, and aloysius’ magic was certainly not only contained in his sharp fangs, and unusual taste for blood. “mind your own business, will you?” aloysius dismissed the portrait and got up, making his servants get up as well. he finally noticed the synchronised movements, and the doe eyes – he gave them a glare. “you too, partir,” the way he moved told them enough, they left as quickly as they could. aloysius approached the portrait, who looked down at him with a satisfied grin. “any reason you choose to torment me today, roderick?” he locked eyes with the painted ones – and he could tell pink paint bloomed on the boy’s cheeks. “uhm, well – I thought she reminded you of someone,” the portrait said boldly, and aloysius’ eyes darkened, they were dangerous. if he could slash the canvas open – he would. if he could drain the portrait of blood – he would. the words affected him – and he knew exactly why. he will not be able to kill this one, and it was not because her brave nature amused him, no. it was because she looked like her – the witch who cursed him, who made him live forever, miserable and thirsty. part of him would have killed her on the spot – but that face still held power over him. it could be that the girl was her descendant, it would not be unheard of. if there was even the slightest chance they were related, killing her would only make his fate worse – the witch will certainly not like having her daughter, or whatever she was, killed. he did not know how the portrait knew of his thoughts, it seemed to know a lot – and he had no doubt his ‘knowledge’ was a gift from his old enemy. “what do you know, roderick? you are just an old, painted buffoon,” aloysius turned away, and just as he did, he heard a sharp laughter, and a screech that almost made him go deaf. his heightened senses were a curse – especially when a mental portrait starts screaming for no reason. he turned around and saw the image melting – aloysius’ face was impossible to be read. his feelings were also difficult to decipher – he thought he has been poisoned for a moment, the sudden reaction took him slightly off guard, for about a second. roderick’s skin melted off, revealing his skeleton, jaw clattering in a continuous laughter. aloysius rolled his eyes, and sighed. “boring. now stop the theatrics, we have guests,” roderick almost pouted at him – yes, with skeleton face and all. aloysius watched the paint get absorbed back in the painting, roderick’s face appearing again. “do that again, and I will sell you at an auction,” aloyisus said as serious as ever – he was not amused by the portrait’s intrusion and game. “listen, listen, listen, sire,” he started calling when he saw aloysius walk away again. “what I meant is that she looks like a man,” he continued, more desperate now, trying to get aloysius’ attention. “you have fun with men, right?” but aloysius was already gone. “insolent fool,” a portrait of a woman whispered, rolling her eyes, before scoffing. roderick pouted again, then stopped moving. aloysius felt the need to get away from people – from servants and annoying portraits. the living room at the end of the hall was empty now, and the portraits there never bothered him. there was a big piano in the room, and if aloysius ever looked peaceful it was when he was playing it. the portraits there loved his presence – especially if he played something for them. the moonlight was shining on the keys, and aloysius was compelled to approach. he touched the delicate surface, and sat down. he did not need any music sheet – he knew the notes by heart, he has played this composition many times. and light as a feather were his fingers on the keys, they spun and twirled and created the sweet sound of beethoven’s moonlight sonata. and the portraits closed their eyes, and listened mesmerised, the sound was loud in the sullen castle – adagio sostenuto. it almost sounded like hope, like an entrance to heaven – and aloysius looked so peaceful and beautiful. such man could not be a blood-thirsty killer, could he? – the girls who watched him play always asked that, until he managed to prove them wrong. the notes start to weigh on him, lower, and lower. the entire room vibrated with his music, and the moon was splendid – his body swayed slightly as his fingers skilfully embraced the light notes, almost dancing on the keys – allegretto. the lights were switched on, and the entire atmosphere was jolly, matching the sudden turn in his concert. some maids caught themselves dancing around, swirling to the music – and some servants joined them. it was as if the entire castle transformed into a ball, and everyone was happy. the speedy notes made them all spin around, aloysius’ fingers moving faster, his face in a serene concentration – presto agitato. the small crowd started to cheer in their dance, and even the portraits joined in – one of them mimicking a conductor. meanwhile, the music reached the dining area and roderick smirked. “you should join, missy,” roderick spoke to chai out of a sudden, looking at her with his painted eyes – his youthful, yet malicious face, he would have told her more, but he thought convincing her to go away for now would benefit him somehow. “you certainly do not want to miss such a spectacle.” the party only got louder, and more enjoyable with every new section, it even felt as though the entire castle was moving along to the music – the curtains dropping, unfolding and folding. some feathers floating, writing words in the air – and the fireplace was roaring furiously, flames moving to the beat. marley was the only one who looked distressed, he did not like how everyone chimed in – if their master sees them like that, it will not be good. he tried to stop them – but even he was captured by the music. it was as if the piano was enchanted – and perhaps it was. their hearts almost burst with every note, fascinated, excited, and absolutely in love with their little show. they did not stop dancing until the last notes hit the piano, in a graceful ending. aloysius stood up, and they all cheered so loudly the entire town might have heard them. to marley’s surprise, aloysius’ good mood was still present, so he bowed to accept the cheers with the grace of a prince. “marvellous” “breath-taking” “it was beautiful, sire” – the praise never ended. and aloysius stepped in the middle of the room, and the entire castle was once again silent. -- living room inspiration: https://i.pinimg.com/736x/76/1a/8c/761a8c08193f27732185766dc52bddef--piano-living-rooms-piano-room.jpg the song (it has the sections in the description, that should help along!): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Tr0otuiQuU

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pxssionfruit/thegildedone ;

No matter how hard she looked, he was no where to be found. Chai stood in the middle of the dining room long enough for her eyes to get adjusted to the darkness, somewhat finding it welcoming in it's eeriness and gloom. The palace and the glory of the hall she'd met Aloysius in was the exact opposite of the colorful town she hailed from and she found it a breath of fresh air, even through the earthy stench of the palace. She sucked in a breath, gnawing on the inner flesh of her cheek as her fingers wrung each other in nervousness. Was this the moment she would die at his hands? Her heart skipped a beat before picking up in her chest, deafening in the middle of the room. Maybe he was just late, the little mousy voice tried speaking bravely but to no avail, the million and one thoughts all had bloody and gory endings. "Stop stressing that pretty head of yours, will you?"a voice spoke, wrenching Chai out of her miserable reverie. Her head whipped around to find the voice who spoke yet stared at the empty room once again. Had she imagined the voice? "Non, non! You are not imagining things, I assure you! Here! On your right! Psst, look here!" With baited breath, she slowly turned the direction of the voice, gaze widening in surprise (maybe fear?) and hands flying to her mouth to hold back the little shriek that threatened to bubble out of her throat. A boy, surely no older than her, stared back at her with a grin so toothy, she could see the mischief on his visage. He wore his hair in an unruly fashion, the mop of ginger locks a stark contrast against the dark background he stood against. He looked like one of the boys who would be caught stealing cookies from the patisserie back in the village, deserving a smack on the bum from Mr. Grosventre. But despite his face, his clothes told another story, in the way the fine fabric of his shirt even shone from the painting- wait, what? Painting? Her steps were cautious but the glint in her eyes were curious as she approached the portrait on the wall, unable to hold her hand back from reaching out in the want to touch the canvas. "Tch, do not touch me, young miss! Should you want to come in too." The boy cackled as he watched her hand drop back to her side as fast as it had reached up. "Y-you speak,"she murmured, breath coming out in a shaky huff. It wasn't a question nor was it a statement; she just needed to wrap her head around this fascinating magic. The boy in the portrait watched her with impatience, mouth down-turned in pout of distaste. "You know, I did want you to be different from the other ladies who'd walked in before you. Alas, you seem to be as a floundering goat as all of them!" He exclaimed, sarcasm dripping off his tongue as he rolled his eyes before feigning a bore glance as he inspected his fingernails. Chai's eyes narrowed just a fraction, grin as toothy as his initially was, blinking once in innocence. It was a look that had come in handy often back home to get herself out of trouble and there was no doubt she would use it around here to get her way. "Do you often speak to your guests like this? Well, I would be an old grumpy cat too if I were stuck in a portrait. Pray tell, what happens when the canvas is torn or ripped? I remember seeing a knife somewhere around here..." She trailed off as if deep in thought, making sure he caught the way her eyes roamed the little space from her left to right in search of said knife. She wouldn't hurt him, not at all. But she would find entertainment in bothering him all the time. "Gah! Such a brat! You remind me awfully of someone!"he scoffed at her, in turn only him just a coquettish shrug and a bat of her eyelashes. "But you're funny. You may call me Roderick and I hope you stick around here for long, Miss Brat. It's been a long time since we've had entertainment in this ramshackle of a decaying pla-" His words were cut short by the melodious note of a piano ringing from somewhere, Chai's head turning to the side to find the source of the noise. It was euphony, the gracious and elegant kind that began sad but quickly morphed into a joyous one. Roderick and her stood in silence, appreciating the piece of music that played, transcending the space of the castle and engulfing the two in what was jolly ecstasy. Her lips curved slightly at the corners at the way the notes picked up, the sounds of cheerful laughter and shouts adding to the solo orchestra. Roderick took one glance at her face and snickered at the way her eyes had glazed over with awe, expression one of pure intrigue. “You should join, missy. You certainly do not want to miss such a spectacle." His tone and words were tempting, her feet moving on their own accord as she trudged the way the voices and music came from. There had been a little corridor right beside the grande hall that she had missed earlier on her inspection, the path lit with little oil lamps. For once, even the shadows seemed like they were cheery instead of their grim selves. Perhaps they were truly enjoying themselves, who knew? Chai stood by the door, hand resting on the wooden panel to push it wide enough so she could peek in. And the sight inside was enough to have her breath hitch in her throat. It was a ruckus but she felt the happiness that the room burst with, enticing the small frame of the girl who peeped in. Everything moved, from the tapestries and the curtains to the candle holders and feather dusters; they were all fluid in their dance, gone into the euphoria of such a masterpiece. But her gaze flitted to the man who had started such fete. Aloysius sat in the middle of the room, on the bench in front of the grande piano and had lost himself into the music, oblivious to the celebration around him until the very last notes. His fingers were lithe and expert as they came to a dwindling stop from the furious tapping on top of the ivory keys and Chai did not miss the satisfied smile he smiled as he lifted himself from the cushioned bench, graceful and royal as ever as he bowed. At that moment, she thought of it impossible that he was such a monster, especially when all of his servants and friends(?) cheered on him so loudly for. She envied him -them- for it; she'd never had a chance at experiencing such joy back in her village. Once the applause died down, she pushed the door open and walked in, hands placed politely in front of her as she cleared her throat, trying to get his attention. It was not only his that she got, but the whole palace's. It was dead again, every single sight of life gone and it broke her heart to see it. The once warm atmosphere was cold once again despite the fire that burned brighter than ever in the fireplace. But she knew she couldn't take it too heart- she was not mistress of the house after all for them to welcome her with such fuss. "You play wonderfully,"she began, voice coming out timid which was so unlike her. Chai cleared her throat again, taking a few steps closer so she stood in front of him. Her foot were awfully loud even if muffled by the carpet and she held herself from grimacing. "As if for your own celebration. Why didn't you join them in dancing? Do you dance? Would you like to?" The questions erupted past her mouth before she even knew it, her hand held out in an invite. It sure was a feeble attempt at decent cordiality and even friendship; he said he wouldn't eat her if she misbehaved after all. A if on cue, a note from the piano resonated against the castle walls, once again bringing life to the place. Her head tilted slightly so she could look over his shoulder to the massive instrument that stood majestically behind him and grinned, noticing how the keys moving on their own. Of course, it was enchanted too. With her grin still in place, she beamed up at Aloysius, barely a foot away from where he stood towering over her. "I think even it wants you to dance." She chuckled, nodding towards the direction of the piano. [ living room inspiration (as I had it in my head): https://i.pinimg.com/564x/cd/0c/df/cd0cdf34c8d3731c54260b9fd0f2948a.jpg roderick: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/e5/61/c4/e561c419b7e7cfa2db3c4d71d00a602c.jpg piano piece: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sdduPpnqre4 ]

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venitempus/vindvin ;

in the fit of laughter and joy, aloysius has forgotten about his guest – kind of. he did not show any surprise to see her walking inside the beautifully decorated room, and the room’s noise died with her arrival. he regarded her – she looked more presentable. he could get used to the emerald flow she was wearing, it suited her. however, it looked old-fashioned. perhaps it was a practical joke at his expense, something along the lines of ‘aha, you are old, so let us entice you with something close to home’. surely, it was not her fault. and he wanted to glance at the maidens who were already giggling behind their palms. such childish behaviour should be punished, he would have punished it. but his mind was at peace, he was satisfied with the theatrics – he did not want to lose his peace. it will not last long anyways – and the hunger, the thirst, the murderous fever will return, and capture his entire being. it was his curse, and he accepted it. her praised made him smirk, he enjoyed hearing about himself – his arrogance trapped him in this convoluted story to begin with. her bluntness did not seem to move him, but he was impressed. she was truly different – which girl would invite a grown man to dance? it was not a custom, of course, he did not mind tradition much. it was most unlikely, and peculiar. he knew victorian girls were straightforward when showing their undergarments, but none would have dared to step forward and ask for something as innocent as a dance. they lived in a fairy tale with a prince they expected to do everything for them – lay with them, invite them to a dance, shower them with riches. and they liked it – the entire scenario has gotten too predictable for someone like him. for centuries he has met the same shy girls with a different accent, a different colour, a different smile. suddenly, the pages were blank. and chai was writing her own story – with him, without him. the piano married his heart – he gave it away. and so it tuned whatever fitted, old and new. it was a piece aloysius was only partly familiar with, it still did not make its way to england, not yet. but it was exceptional, he had a lot of praise for the russian composer. it was not the first thought in mind when selecting a tune for a traditional dance – the piano read her as accurately as it read him. the servants were holding their breaths, and for fair reason. for a brief moment he looked like a predator – his expression hardened, and his off-putting darkness was surrounding him with every movement. two girls covered their eyes – they were sure chai’s life was about to come to an end. nobody defeated him, spoke to him like that, not without consequences. she approached him in spite of it – her bravery knew no limits. it would be easy to rip her apart, to drain her pretty neck, to do anything to keep her away. he did not do any of it, he let her come close. he allowed her to disturb his personal space, to be at arm’s length. when he reached his hand out, a servant squeaked – imaging how easily aloysius could strangle her. he grabbed her hand instead, his lips curling in a dangerously charming smile – or was it charmingly dangerous? the piano taunted. aloysius pulled her closer – the song was not made for a duet, but he had to make it work. he started with steps that mimicked the pace of the piece, his arm around her waist, his hand holding hers in a waltz-like pose. but it was a quick waltz, one that made them pace all over the room frantically – the fire flickered, the servants watched bewildered. the entire piece was like a chase, it made the furniture quiver. the piano mocked them – aloysius knew. he looked at it with a smirk, it was almost as if he was scolding an old friend. when the last notes flew like a river he spun her, once, twice, and let her be taken by the rhythm. their bodies were far away, he spun her again and left her under the chandelier’s light as the last note hit. the servants were not sure if they should clap or not, so they stood in silence. “very well, friend. now if you have finished your taunt, why do you not simply play something that would allow a proper dance?” he looked at the piano, it played some notes in contemplation. “chopin should do,” aloysius helped, and the entire room changed. it was not only the light that dimmed, or the flame that flickered slower – but the curtains darkened, there was rain pouring over the windows. and white petals started to fall seemingly out of nowhere, filling the entire room with the scent of spring. aloysius approached her again, this time in a proper waltz – pulling her closer at his chest. his body was cold, and his heart was barely beating – he moved so gently, so lost. they covered the entire room – the atmosphere was enchanting. the servants watched in awe, the portraits closed their eyes in contemplation. aloysius closed his eyes too, he felt the music under his feet – he was fluid, and he pulled her along, like a gentle breeze. the petals turned burgundy as the music reached its darker notes, and the shower of little flowers covered them like the rain did the windows. he spun her, and let her go. all lights were on her, all the flowers surrounded her, moved with her, spun with her – she looked like a gracious swan on a lake of waterlilies. aloysius was at the bottom of the lake, his face was covered by the depth’s darkness, and the reflection of the rain, the moon was only gently brushing his lips. the piece ended, and the room brightened again. the cold blue lights faded to yellow, the room felt warmer. servants clapped, and filled it again with joy. aloysius walked towards the door in their applause. “dinner shall be served shortly,” he announced, and left peacefully. he did not wait for chai, he gave her the chance to refuse to follow – he thought choice suited her best. “sire,” a servant ran towards him, soaking wet. he just entered the castle, and he was panting like a wild dog. aloysius gave him a displeased look, and he fell at his feet. “I tried sire, I did. but they didn’t want to listen,” he heaved. aloysius frowned, and gestured him to get up. “that is quite alright, francis,” he said kindly? it was rather hard to tell where his tone was at right now. “they will not dare disturb me. now if you will, I should have my dinner,” and he walked away. francis was confused, and he got up, running to one of the maids to ask what happened. “she happened, dearie,” the maid said with a chuckle, pointing at chai subtly. “I haven’t seen our lord dance in a long time.” aloysius was in the dining room, roderick gave him a weird look. he choose to ignore the portrait, and it knew better than to disturb the feast. the long table was filled with all kind of food, it looked delightful. aloysius took a seat at the end of it, taking all of it in. he was in contemplation – the servants were already in the room. they usually stuck around during meals, just to make sure aloysius does not suddenly change the menu. he had a beautiful crystal glass in front of him – it was filled with dark red liquid. it could have passed as wine, but nearly everyone knew that it was not alcohol. no matter how drunk aloysius got on it. -- piano piece: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9E6b3swbnWg

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pxssionfruit/thegildedone ;

She waited with baited breath at his reaction; somehow she was prepared for the rejection that would come. In his eyes, she was probably just a silly little girl who attempted to befriend a monster. Surely, he wouldn't- surprise rushed through her body, eyes wide when her hand was taken. Chai felt small in his hold, her hand fragile into his strong one. Was he really willing to dance with her? Wasn't she meant to be discarded and treated as if her little wishes and desires were meaningless? Wasn't she just the lamb that had would be soon roasted in the pit for the wolf's dinner? It was clear that she hadn't expected it in the way she gawked, eyes widening enough so the light caught her irises, a flash of gold and green sparkling in otherwise dark orbs. her body stiffened for a moment before it relaxed, the music somehow soothing, crashing against his body. from this close, she could finally take a good look at the man. from the minutest imperfections that were almost invisible to the harsh lines and shadows in his face that seemed as if he had a permanent scowl, he exuded grace and regality. chai didn't understand how someone could be so beautiful could exist, but here he was; cold yet warm in her hold as they moved about the grandiose room in effortless steps, surprisingly able to match his waltz despite how her full skirt billowed at their feet. she had never had the chance to dance such back in the village; her family's finances were such that minor luxuries and hobbies were considered a waste. and right now that she was indulging in it, the worry she had back then seemed so far away. her thoughts were still running rampant in her head, her steps matching his rhythm accompanied by the sway of her body to the music so much that she hadn't noticed she was left alone under the chandelier until she sensed his warmth leaving her side. her face was inquisitive, intrigued by what was to come next when he spoke, his command oozing confidence and majesty. then the world changed, her breath taken by what transpired next. everything was in motion, the room itself coming to life as the music changed. the world darkened significantly outside, the pellets of rain hitting the windows harshly. yet somehow, it was spring's comfort and warmth that began seeping through. the chandelier twinkled in the moonlight and what was remaining of the candlelights as they dimmed, engulfing the room into a whimsical glow. something grazed her cheek with the weight of a feather, falling into her open palm and when she looked at it, in her hand laid a white petal, as soft as a baby's bum or the first of snowflakes she'd caught as a child. it was gone soon, joining the rest of its friends onto the carpeted floor when aloysius took her hand, leading her into a dreamy waltz. how their steps matched was a wondrous feat in itself, chai as fluid as he was when he moved her about the room. it was a beautiful rhythm, one that made her lose awareness of her surroundings, completely throwing herself into the music and the touch that tethered her to the ground. his hand left hers with a force that left her spinning into the middle of the room, her full skirts swarming elegantly at her feet. her eyes had closed, cheeks flushed out of both shyness and joy, her lips curved into the most timid grin she'd ever muster in her sixteen years of life and her hair was a fluid cascade of dark locks that caught the petals. the music dwindled down, the applause that overtook the room a roar that would shame the thunder and lightning that had started picking up outside. slowly, chai's eyes opened, cheeks flushing the same color of the petals that were at her feet and in her hair, searching for the man. aloysius had left her there, in the middle of the room with a crowd of onlookers. her face contorted into one of disbelief as she picked up her skirts and rushed back out the same way she came in after the man. she was too slow- hey, he was just too agile!, she thought to herself as she barged into the dining room, unconsciously leaving a trail of little flowers onto the floor. she glanced at the drenched man who had begun disappearing off somewhere, but her attention was caught once again by the man she had just danced with- she refused to admit that it was a sweet moment. "I'd have thought you were a gentleman!"she exclaimed, tone a bit too loud. she noticed roderick grimacing from his spot on the wall out of her peripheral vision but that did not stop the myriad of words that came out of her mouth as she stepped closer to aloysius, coming to a stand to where he was. "The least you can do is wait for me! My legs are not as long as yours! And you don't have to wear a skirt either and- oh!" the rant stopped as fast as it came, her gaze falling onto the feast-ladden table that sat in the middle of the room. it was filled with everything she could imagine, from a roasted suckling pig to an assortment of quince and cheese, fruit platters to a variety of desserts. she'd never seen so much food in her life; it was enough to feed the whole village back home! she spotted a seat that was readied for her at the other end of the long table- it was too distant, too aloof... just like the man who sat at the head of the table. swallowing thickly, she moved the chair that she was standing by which happened to be on his right and sat down, able to pick up the sounds of the servants running around to fix her new seat for her. "Thank you," she murmured kindly to one of the servants who placed a pristine plate and utensils in front of her. chai's hand hesitantly reached for her fork, the cold metal foreign in her hands. she was hungry and the whole castle was made aware of it when her stomach rumbled, rivaling that of the thunder outside. roderick snickered from his place on the wall in front of her and she was quick to raise her fist that was still gripping the fork, shaking it in warning at the boy in the painting. "Shut up, you wretched fopdoodle!" she glared at him but the boy only snickered harder, his face contorting into a grimace that was sure meant to poke fun at the girl who only stuck her tongue out at him, fist dropping down so she could stab a grape. she was far too hungry to shoot a clever quip so deciding she would deal with roderick later, she started to eat, the grape-tipped fork freezing about halfway to her mouth. she took a glance at the man beside her and hesitantly held the fruit to him in an attempt at being friendly. they did just dance, so maybe he wouldn't be too closed now, right? "Would you like one? I'm sure they are delicious,"she began, mouth upturning into what she hoped was a toothy grin but really was an awkward one. Roderick yodeled a bout of robust and obnoxious laughter, his exclamation causing her eyebrows to thread together into a scowl. "Oh, naive little girl! She wants to give our lord a grape! A grape! Haha!"

TO BE CONTINUED.

( @thegildedone​ )

[jui-imouto-chan]

Part 10 of the Mostly Human AU

Level Select:

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Getting through to the last of the suggestions from @manadrite ‘s most recent comment (as of posting this)! I love having suggestions, keep ‘em coming!

Connor isn’t one to get terribly scared. He actually gets a thrill from scary situations.

His sense of self-preservation is startlingly low, for a being granted with immeasurable intelligence. At least, that’s what Hank claims.

Furthermore, Connor loves Horror. From movies to novels to images, he loves things made to be scary.

- Connor may or may not have had a weird crush on Slenderman for like a week. 

Maybe it was the towering height and the lack of a face, or maybe it was the slim fitting suit that made the creature so appealing to him.

Okay maybe Connor has a suit kink.

When he sees Gavin in an officer’s clothing and finds the man slightly attractive, it’s clear that he just straight (pfft) up has a uniform kink.

Connor will take this newfound information to the  g r a v e.

Connor goes to see a horror movie with Hank and the twins, and he’s ecstatic. 

He puts all of the pieces together detective style to figure out how the protagonists are either gonna die or solve the problem while Collin and Conan grip their seats a bit too tight and while Hank mutters flaws about the movie under his breath.

“This scene does not include a lap dance.” 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing!”

By the end of the movie, Collin and Conan had migrated to partially hide behind Connor, and Connor points this out to them.

They lie and say they were getting sleepy, and were dozing off on his seat.

Connor goes with it with a knowing smirk and a wink, mischief twinkling in his eyes.

Connor goes missing one day.

They try to give him a call when he they don’t see him that morning, but they receive no answer.

Hank and the twins storm through the house, upturning furniture and looking under the beds, in the closets, outside. He’s nowhere to be found.

They call up all of his friends, but nobody knows where he is.

The DCPD gets at least fifteen calls all at once reporting Connor missing.

While everyone is freaking out, Connor is actually, in fact, not missing.

He is out for a walk, Sumo at the vet’s for a check up and grooming, and he spots an animal shelter/pet shop. 

There are dogs and cats in cages by the windows, and Connor gravitates towards them without thought to anything else.

He enters the shop and, after talking with the person behind the counter for ten minutes, is surrounded by animals, all vying for his attention.

He’d never seen a cat before this, and honestly, he now holds cats to the same regard as dogs. 

It’s his first time seeing a lot of animals, all of them immensely cute. He giggles when a rabbit nibbles on his pointer finger.

The employee who allowed this to happen is melting against the counter, everything is too much. Too cute. 

The employee pulls out a camera and records, knowing the manager would love to use this as an ad. 

Connor already gave his consent for any media that his interaction might appear in, so it’s all gucci, even though Connor’s too preoccupied with the animals to even realize he’s being recorded.

Connor is there for a few hours, all of the time considered blissful to the android.

The video was sent to the editor as soon as the employee got clips of Connor interacting with each and every one of the animals. 

It's edited impressively quickly, yet still professionally; the editor accredited it to “passion”. 

When the ad goes up on all of the shelter/shop ‘s social media, with Connor tagged in the photo, everything halts.

Connor finally registers that his phone, being sat on by two guinea pigs, is ringing.

He answers it, and is disappointed when he's told to return home immediately by Hank. Hank sounds angry, distressed, and relieved all at once.

The employee reassures him, telling him that he can return whenever he’d like.

There’s an issue when Connor is on his way home, however, as he gets attacked. 

A man tries to mug him with a knife to his throat, pushing him into an alleyway, and while Connor manages to push him away, he doesn’t anticipate the man having accomplices.

He gets a few surprise stab wounds that go into some biocomponents, but their timers are set to at least an hour before he shuts down.

He defeats his attackers and sends Hank his location, telling him that he needs emergency care needs to be taken to Kamski as soon as possible.

His systems kick him into sleep mode against a cold alley wall to preserve thirium, which leaks copiously from his many wounds.

Connor wakes up to the ceiling of Kamski’s “operating” room, vaguely wondering if the past few months had been the equivalent of a dream, if he had imagined all of the friends he’d made and all of the things he’d experienced.

The thought...saddens Connor.

Luckily, a few minutes after he awakens, he hears Hank’s gruff voice and a plethora of footsteps approaching the room he’s in.

Connor goes to sit up, but winces in pain. His movement brings up a prompt, asking if he’d like to interface with the android equivalent of an IV, though it contains a liquid that promotes self-reparation at the cost of his mental capabilities being lowered until his wounds are healed.

TL;DR, it’s the closest Connor can get to pain killing medication.

He accepts the interface and he suddenly feels...oddly happy?

Everything is moving around the slightest bit and Connor can’t help but smile. Everything was great and he was having fun, sitting on the table. 

He giggles drunkenly.

His wounds are slowly closing themselves, and he scoots to the edge of the table while humming an unknown tune. He smiles triumphantly once his knees finally hang over the edge, he kicks them and rocks his head side to side.

When everyone enters the room, he’s surrounded by people and get-well gifts and he’s just so happy. He really doesn’t think of the consequences of his actions.

So that’s exactly why he thanks them all with hugs and kisses, skin tingly and buzzing while his chest feels warm and full.

The members of Jericho are frozen when he gives them all kisses to the cheek, and then all of them simultaneously slap a hand onto their cheek and stare at each other with pink faces. Daniel and Simon both duck their heads while Josh pulls his hood over his face and rugs on the drawstrings. North is suddenly more occupied with poking Markus’ red cheeks and teasing him as he shakes.

Hank tries to fight him off, but eventually relents, ruffling his hair bashfully. Conan and Collin both turn their heads as he approaches their cheeks, leading to him kissing both of them on the lips, though he just laughs good naturedly when they both nod at each other and go to opposite sides of the room, ears red.

Ralph and the Jerrys are surprisingly shy when Connor kisses them, but Ralph gives him a kiss on the cheek back, while the Jerrys all rub their necks and look away with silly grins.

Luther and Kara let Alice take their share of kisses, and she presses a kiss to Connor’s nose.

Rupert tries to escape Connor, but the brunette grabs his sleeve and gives him a kiss to the temple. Rupert immediately tries to flee the room, and Connor waves. Rupert hesitates before waving back and running away.

Connor goes to give Gavin a kiss, too, but the detective shoves a homemade cupcake in his mouth before he can. He still manages to give the guy a hug, though.

Kamski approaches, by Connor’s hug and kiss for him are stolen by Chloe, who had just snapped out of her shock at seeing Connor surrounded by a goddamn harem.

She growls at everyone in the room, sans Alice, Hank, Kara, and Luther.

Kamski is kinda concerned?? People don’t growl like that, wtf.

Also, he’s kinda upset that she’s keeping him from getting affection from his own creation but he’s not about to let his head get ripped off today

Chloe says that there’s too many people in the room, it’s getting late, and that Connor should get some more rest so that he can recover completely.

She tries to sound pleasant, but she really just sounds threatening af

Once she’s sufficiently scared the fuck out of everyone there and gotten them to leave, she puts her hands on Connor’s shoulders and tries to explain that nobody is allowed to touch him bc he’s too precious and, “nobody deserves you. This world doesn’t deserve you. The G-Man in the sky doesn’t even deserve you u pure boi.”

He doesn’t remember a word of this in the morning, but Chloe doesn’t know that.

He goes home in Hank’s car, Sumo already back from the vet and now laying across his lap, and finds out that Conan and Collin are at registration for their next year of college 

(lol idk if thats something u have to go do at college, im 15 and clueless)

Next Level: College Care Packages and Birthday Parties (suggested by @supposedlymatureadult )

X | Continue to Next Level

O | Save Progress and Quit to Main Menu

————————————— •

I think I got carried away with the kissing but I just really wanted Connor to be overly affectionate. At least I didn’t go down the sexual route.

Leave suggestions in the notes or in my ask, along with any questions, comments, and anything else!

Side note: If you want to receive notice of this AU but not the other random things I post/reblog (don’t worry I‘m not offended if that’s the case), I’m marking them all with #Jui’s Mostly Human AU in the tags, so you can follow that instead if that’s preferable!

[furryarbiterangel]

October Post 13

George often thought about the day they said he went insane.

It wasn’t his fault. Not really. And now he sat in this small white room, the walls slowly closing in around him as the days went by, arms wrapped tight in a harsh embrace around his torso, held there by the iron grip of the jacket, and labelled as “a danger to self and others”. No, it wasn’t fair at all.

Everything had been Marshal’s idea after all. It wasn’t George’s fault that he had died there… although everyone else seemed to think so.

But he would stand by his story. It was all he had left.

He was considered too dangerous to even leave his prison unless accompanied by multiple staff members to attend his psychological evaluations in the doctor’s office. So every day he was bundled up and dragged along to the doctor’s room. Dr. Harrold Harrison, a name that would have made him laugh at another point of his life, asked him the same questions over and over as if George would suddenly one day declare “By golly you’re right! It was me!”

“How are you feeling today?”

“What can I do to help you?”

“Is there anything you want to talk about?”

“Have you been feeling any changes with the new medication?”

“We really care about helping you George… but you have to help us help you.”

He was feeling coped up like the caged animal he was. There was nothing Dr. Harrold Harrison could do to help since he refused to believe the truth. He didn’t want to talk about anything thank you so very much. And why yes, the medication certainly was affecting him. Just not the way the doctor hoped. In fact, sometimes, he was so medicated he couldn’t remember his own name. During those times he would pace the room, 5 feet by 6 feet, he had measured it numerous times during his stay here, muttering names to himself until he found the right one. It only added to the doctor’s conviction that he was crazy. But once he found it, he felt a little better. As long as he could hold on to himself they wouldn’t be able to convince him he was crazy.

…

“Horror movies these days are so boring” Em whined.

“I know!” Marshal added, throwing himself back against the couch. “They’re so predictable. And stupid. Like, who does that? Don’t go into the attic by yourself moron. Take a flashlight at least!”

Em sighed dramatically. Em was very good at being dramatic. She could make ordering a pizza dramatic. “This sucks.”

“Come on guys, it wasn’t that bad. You screamed at least once, so you can’t claim it was awful.” Ray pointed out.

“Jump scares don’t count!” Michelle chimed in.

George sat quietly next to them on the sofa, unwilling to admit that he had been scared witless by the movie that Em and Marshal were currently bashing. There was something about psychological horrors that made him want to check under his bed at night. Except, there was always the fear that something would actually be there one day, and he wasn’t sure how he would handle THAT situation. Thankfully, it hadn’t happened yet. But that didn’t quiet the voice in his head that whispered that he might not be alone because it now believed that ghosts were real.

Once the sun rose all those silly thoughts retreated, leaving only the logic that it was just a movie and it was silly to be scared by them.

Until the next movie night.

Marshal and Em always insisted on horror movies, although the way they complained afterwards, you would think that they hated them.

His musings were interrupted when Marshal suddenly spoke again, disrupting the argument between Em, Ray, and Michelle about the value of jump scares in movies. “We should do something really scary!”

Ray raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Well…” Marshal started. “Have you heard of the Sultan’s Palace?”

“Of course!” said Em, at the same time as George, Ray, and Michelle simultaneously answered “No.”

His eyes glinted. “It’s one of the most haunted buildings in the US. And it’s in New Orleans, that’s not too far away.”

“3 hours isn’t ‘not too far away’ dude.” George finally spoke up.

“But it’ll be worth it!”

“Tell us about it!” Michelle hid it well, but George knew she was worried.

Marshal settled farther into the couch. “Back in the 1800’s, a man and his six wives moved into a house in New Orleans’s French Quarter. He was known for his wild parties. One day, as per usual, his house was bumping late into the night, filled to the brim with guests!” He gestured wildly, attempting to demonstrate just how wild these nights had been. “There were rumors of orgies. That the women were part of his harem and he slept with every single one of them every night. People whispered that they could smell opium in the air. Anything that you could think of…”

Ray sighed. “This doesn’t sound particularly scary.”

“You have to understand the background of it.” Em snapped. “Listen to the rest of the story!”

“Fine. Whatever.” He muttered.

George sat in silence, worried about where this conversation seemed to be headed.

“Right. So orgies, sex, drugs, what else could you want in a haunted house? Several months after the Sultan moved in, a huge storm hit the New Orleans area. The house went quiet for the first time. The next morning, a passerby noticed blood streaming down the front steps and pooling in the courtyard. Totally freaked out, this dude ran to get the police. The blood continued to run… getting thicker and thicker… before the police finally decided to enter.”

Michael paused, clearly hoping for a reaction from the others.

Only Em obliged, prompting him eagerly “Go on!”

“Inside the police found that every single person inside had been brutally murdered. Some had been flayed open… others were missing limbs… all throughout the house they found more and more dead. But when they got into the middle of the house, they found a lavish courtyard… and in the very middle of the courtyard… a hand… sticking up out of the dirt… trying to claw its’ way out of the earth… the Sultan had been buried alive. They never found the murderer.

“To this day it’s rumored that the Sultan wanders the house at night, seeking revenge. Everyone who goes in dies a brutal death recreating the tragedies of how the Sultan and his guests were killed. Visitors who run rather than stay the night, tell tales of seeing dark figures stalking them and even pushing them. Outsiders say that they can hear music in the distance and smell incense as if one of the Sultan’s parties is going on right at that very moment. Others say they can hear people screaming. But everyone agrees that there is something supernatural about that place.” He took a breath prepping for his big reveal, “Everyone except that woman who lives there. She thinks it’s all nonsense. In fact,” Michael’s eyes began to glow with excitement, “she even converted it into small apartments and rents them out.”

“No.” George and Michelle said at once.

“Yes!” Em squealed. “Let’s do it!”

They all looked towards Ray knowing he would be the deciding vote. After all, he was the one with the car, he would have to agree for them to all go. He hesitated, clearly doubtful.

“Common chicken.” Michael taunted.

George knew his fate was sealed. Ray couldn’t stand be called a chicken. He and Michelle would try to put up a fight… to resist the idea, but eventually the group dynamics would win. Michael would sweet talk Michelle into agreeing and George wouldn’t be the only one to stay behind.

So it was agreed. The next weekend instead of a movie night, they would take a trip down to New Orleans and spend the night at the Sultan’s Palace.

 The trip began uneventfully. There was the usual bickering over who would sit in what seats, and eventually the usual outcome would occur, leaving George stuck in the middle. He wasn’t sure why he never stood up for himself, it just seems easier to let himself be swept along with the others. Em and Michael had sound loud personalities that the few times he had tried, it hadn’t even been noticed. So he had stopped trying.

The three hour car ride turned into a four hour one, then five, then five and a half due to traffic. By the time they pulled into the French Quarter they were all cranky and eager to be out of the rust bucket that Ray called a car.

George stared in awe as they approached the entryway to the home. He could see why they called it a Palace in the 1860’s. It truly was an impressive building.

George remained quiet as Em bounded up to the door, knocked, spent some time talking to the woman who answered, and dragged them all up to their rooms. He couldn’t fight off a quiet sense of foreboding. He tried hard to tell himself it was just the story and that it was like any of the movies he had been forced to sit through. It would bother him for a little while, and then he would wake up and laugh at it.

They explored the rest of the house, the afternoon passing in a blur as George became more and more nervous. It get to the point that even Em noticed something was wrong.

He shrugged it off when she asked, knowing she would only laugh at him.

He was so wrapped up in his discomfort he didn’t notice that Michelle was acting oddly too. It was only when they returned from dinner that night, each with a few drinks in them as it turned out that restaurants in the French Quarter didn’t ID, that he noticed Ray had become unusually quiet too.

He pulled Michelle and Ray aside and asked them if they were feeling the same uneasy emotions as he was.

The look of relief on Michelle’s face made it clear that she thought she had been the only one, “Ohmygod. Okay. I feel so much better now that you said that. I though I was being silly… but… I’ve felt nauseas since I first walked into this house.”

“I’ve felt like there was someone standing directly behind me,” Ray admitted. “I thought I felt it touch me…”

“I’ve been seeing glimpses of people moving out of the corner of my eye.” George said, glad he could finally say it out loud.

“I don’t like it here…” Michelle whispered.                                                                      

“BOO!”

Michelle and George screamed, even Ray jumped.

Em burst out laughing. “Oh the looks on your faces.” Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she doubled over clutching her stomach. “Oh that was just too good.”

Michelle’s jaw clenched and she glared at her. “That wasn’t funny, Em!”

“Calm down, it was hilarious.” Michael appeared behind Em, chuckling to himself.

Em was still struggling to catch her breath.

Turning her glare to him, Michelle stayed quiet for a few seconds, opened her mouth to say something, and then turned and stalked away.

Michael watched her go, “I don’t get it. Why is she so angry?”

Ray shrugged. “It really wasn’t funny dude. You shouldn’t have said that to her.” He hesitated and then followed Michelle down the dark hallway.

“What about you?” Michael challenged, “are you going to run away too?”

George didn’t respond, wishing he had had the chance to talk to Ray and Michelle more, but he didn’t want to rise to Michael’s taunt and follow them. So instead he shook his head.

“Good.” Said Em, “You can come with us. We’re going to explore more.”

“But we already explored everything? Besides, it’s getting late.”

“Uh…duh? That’s why we’re going to explore! It’s so much better in the dark.”

Reluctantly he followed them back down the hallway, glancing once over his shoulder the way Ray and Michelle had disappeared still wishing he had the guts to stand up to Em’s judgement and go after them. Instead, he squared his shoulders and resolved not to let her see that he was still afraid.

The house was much creepier in the dark.

George would have sworn that the shadows moved extending towards them like fingers grasping for them. As it turned out he would swear that, but that would come later.

Instead he crept along in Em and Michael’s wake, the two of them laughing loudly over some joke that didn’t make sense to him, wishing desperately they would decide that there was nothing to be seen and go to their rooms.

They had reached the courtyard when he decided he had had enough.

“I don’t think there’s anything here.” He said, a little too loudly, “I’m gonna head back.”

“Coward.”

George shrugged off Michael’s comment. “We’ve been walking around for an hour and haven’t seen anything. I’m bored and tired. I’m going to bed.”

“Fine. Go then.” Without another word to him, they continued walking into the courtyard, whispering to each other. Em threw a glance back towards him and laughed as Michael whispered something in her ear.

George sighed. It would be worth it. He couldn’t stand the idea of growing shadows or the feeling that the hall was a little too empty.

It took him a while to find his way back. The hallways seemed longer than they had earlier in the day. He knew he was in the right one but it seemed to wind around corners that hadn’t previously existed. When he finally reached his room he realized that it was all for nothing. The sounds of pleasure floated out from underneath the door.

Well, it was bound to happen eventually, he thought. It did make his position in the friend group that much more awkward given that it was only a matter of time before Em and Michael got together as well, but everyone had seen Ray and Michelle’s relationship developing for months. Well, everyone but them. Em had been throwing hints about it for the last month or so hoping it would help them realize what was happening between them. The only problem was that he and Ray were suppose to share a room and he didn’t know where the girls were supposed to be sleeping. There were other guests there that night so he didn’t want to be walking around knocking on doors trying to find the empty room and risk disturbing strangers.

At that moment a particularly loud moan came from the room.

Fuck it. He decided. There was no reason to stay here. He didn’t need to witness this, so he turned around and started back down the hallway. He would rejoin Em and Michael he decided. At least he would be able to sleep in Michael’s room.

Or Em’s room if it came to that. He had a feeling that being left alone this long in a place like this would only increase the chances that their night would end up like Ray and Michelle’s.

George continued down towards the courtyard. It was the last place he had seen them and if nothing else he might run into them on their way back. At end the end of the hallway he froze. A long spiral staircase stretched out in front of him. A staircase that he was sure hadn’t been there earlier. Their rooms were on the first floor. He was sure of it. And yet, there it was. At the end of the hallway that should have lead into the grand entryway of the house. Not completely convinced that he wasn’t imagining the whole thing, he hesitantly put one foot on the top stair. It held under his weight without so much as a creak.

He already knew that he couldn’t go back to his room so he decided to head down it. He was curious as to where this mysterious staircase lead. How often was it that you could explore a suddenly appearing staircase? It would be something to tell Michael and Em to stop their teasing tomorrow.

George skipped down the staircase, it was better to commit to it after all, otherwise he might end up running back down the hallway and, disturbing Ray and Michelle or not, pound on the door and demand to be let in where he could hide under his pillow until the sun came back up. At the end of the staircase he nearly tripped over his feet as they decided to stop moving completely on their own.

In front of him lay the foyer.

A foyer.

It certainly wasn’t the elegantly decorated foyer that he had entered through this afternoon.

Tiger skin rugs lay at the foot of a large red couch, chandeliers glittering high above him, the rest of the celling covered in an intricately designed mosaic. The archways gleamed as if freshly polished, reflecting in the painstakingly scrubbed tile floors. Small tables sat on either side of the couch, laden with candles and fresh fruit. The faint sound of music drifted throughout the room.

He might have stood there forever, wrapped in shock, had it not been for a peal of laughter that suddenly rang through a doorway to his left. A doorway that he was sure hadn’t been there earlier.

George once again felt his traitorous feet begin to move on their own towards the sound of laughter. He mentally fought to stop them but they seemed to be operating on a different plane of thought. They carried him down the remaining few steps, into the foyer, and through the doorway. The tinkling sound of music grew louder. A strange smell filled the air. It was like nothing that he had ever smelled before. It lay thick in the air, a sickly-sweet smell that assaulted his senses in an almost visible form. It was as if someone had gathered a posse of flowers and then set them on fire. George had never smell incense before. Later on he would realize that it carried the same scent as a particularly strong type of opium, that could only be acquired through the Indian black market, but until that point he could only describe it in vague half-hearted terms.

His feet carried him unwillingly onwards.

He wished desperately that he had interrupted Ray and Michelle. Anything would have been better than this ever-changing house.

He found himself standing in the courtyard.

He could only assume it was the same courtyard… this one was full of people. Dressed in brightly colored, delicate looking fabrics tall beautiful woman lounged on couches that were scatted throughout. Men, talking boisterously, were dressed in equally bright clothing, many of them talking at the women, who were clearly trying their hardest to look interested, all while throwing glances at each other as if despairing of the entire population of human males.

There was a moment where all carried on as normal.

One of the women spotted him. All fell silent. George felt himself turn a bright red as all eyes turned to stare at him. He was acutely aware of his ratty jeans and old sweater, so dull and drab when compared to the spender around him.

A cry spread throughout the courtyard.

“Another guest!” “Welcome friend!” “Come join us!”

A few of the women beckoned welcomingly at him. All the voices encouraged him to step forward, to partake in their revels.

George’s eyes drifted over the crowd of scantily dressed women and proud men. He couldn’t describe why, but their welcome made him feel more uneasy rather than soothing him.

He locked eyes with the woman sitting closest to him and she flashed him an alluring smile, allowing her dress to slip casually off of her shoulder. His gaze stuck for a few seconds on the bare flesh and he felt his feet take a step forward. At murmur spread throughout the crowd and he looked up again into her face. Her eyes weren’t smiling. They watched him with the calculated gaze of a snake waiting for its’ prey to come close enough to strike.

Tearing his gaze away from her he found that all of them were watching him intently, waiting for him to move closer.

Finally, his gaze fell upon the fountain that lay in the exact middle of the courtyard. A fountain which had been decrepit beyond repair earlier now bubbled happily a strange red liquid gushing from its’ spouts. He had assumed it was wine. This second glance told him it was not. He didn’t know what it was, but the color wasn’t right and it seemed thicker than wine. Around the bottom of the fountain lay surprisingly realistic statues. They lay frozen, heads turned away from him, limbs mangled in a strangle fashion, perfectly placed… perfectly placed over grates. Grates that lead directly into the fountain. Statues… that weren’t statues. But rather what remained of the bodies of Em and Michael.

The spell on his feet suddenly broke and he bolted away from the courtyard, breath caught in his throat, unable to scream. Through the foyer, the floors tainted now in a dark red color, up the staircase, and down the hallway. He stopped in front of his and Ray’s door and pounded on the wood.

It wasn’t until his fist began to hurt that he noticed there was no longer noise coming from the room. Finding his voice he began to yell, unintelligible words forcing their way from his throat as he tried desperately to wake them from whatever deep sleep they had found.

There was no answer.

George fell to the ground, exhausted. His back against the door he dropped his head into his hands and began to sob. Helplessly he felt the sobs rip their way out of him from deep within his stomach. Trying to catch his breath he leaned his head back against the door and nearly choked as if gave way behind him. He rolled flailing wildly into the room.

Catching and righting himself, he took a moment to lower his head to the ground and regain a steady breathing pattern. He wasn’t sure the his heart would ever stop pounding out of his chest, but he could at least make sure that it was getting enough air as it did so.

Minutes passed.

George lifted his head and let his gaze sweep the room. Only a second passed before he wished he had remained outside in the hallway.

Laying on the bed, still intertwined intimately together lay Michelle and Ray. The now lifeless bodies of Michelle and Ray. The sheets were stained with blood. The pillow was even worse, so soaked in it that a small puddle formed on the floor beneath it as small drops fell slowly to the ground.

A strangled animalistic sound filled the room and George was only vaguely aware that it had come from him.

Throwing himself out of the door he nearly crashed into the door across from the room where his two friends lay. He didn’t bother to right himself fully, instead barreling down the hallway relying on momentum to carry him forward. This time he did trip down the staircase, falling head-first and rolling all the way into the foyer.

He splashed to the ground.

Groaning he lifted his head, dreading what he would see.

The entire floor of the foyer was now covered in blood all sounds of music and laughter gone. Primal screams of fear filled the air. George had a feeling that at least one of them had come from him.

He was now completely coated in blood, his hands and face sticky with it from his roll down the stairs, his clothes drenched.

The sickly-sweet smell filled the entire room an underlying sense of the distinct coppery smell of blood floating among it. He retched violently, trying to rid himself of the invading smell to no use. If anything it grew stronger.

He couldn’t bring himself to look up at the sound of feet coming towards him. He could hear the faint splash of liquid with each step and found himself retching again, his entire body rebelling against the truth that he had seen.

Long nails caressed his face and he suddenly found himself looking into the face of the woman who had tried to seduce him in the courtyard. Her eyes were even more snakelike this close her pupils mere slits of black in a sea of endless green.

“He’ll do.” She said. Her voice was as low and husky as he imagined.

Shuttering, he allowed himself to be drawn to his feet, and followed her without protest as she lead him back to the courtyard. There was no use fighting anymore. He was going to die here.

The blood seemed to grow thicker even as they moved through it. The courtyard was still as full of people as it had been when he had first found his way down, only now most of them lay dead on the ground. Many of them were missing limbs or were twisted into unnatural shapes. A few extremely unlucky ones were still twitching on the grass as the last of their life seeped from their bodies.

He was lead right next to the fountain, close enough the he could now see the expressions on Em and Michael’s faces, twisted in horror they had clearly been alive long enough to register what was happening to them.

Distantly he wondered if the same fate awaited him.

The woman led him closer to them as he saw for the first time that his fate was to be different than theirs. A deep hole, approximately the size of a human standing upright awaiting them, its’ black depths gaping up at him, waiting for him. At the sight of it George began to struggle for the first time. But the hands gripping him were surprisingly strong and he couldn’t tear himself away.

He registered a second pair of hands on his back a second too late. He was shoved mercilessly into the hole, a scream of terror once again finding its’ way out of him. Gasping desperately in fear he sucked in huge breaths of air as if it would help him retain them longer when the dirt started to pour around him. George scrambled at the sides trying to find a handhold, a rough patch, anything that might help him crawl out of this hell, but the sides were deceptively smooth.

His fingers bleeding, he redoubled his efforts as the dirt began to rain down around him. He could hear his tormentors laughing above him. Dirt began to gather in his hair, caught in his eyes, and landing softly around him. Deceptively soft. Soft or not, George knew it would smoother him should it become high enough to cover his face. He tried to use the dirt that already surrounded his feet as a step higher to reach safety, but found that it was too soft and his feet sank back to the bottom of the hole.

That was why they choose such smooth dirt, a small part of his mind thought. The rest of him was too busy panicking to care about what dirt they had chosen.

George could feel that the dirt had reached his waist.

Screams still forced their way out of this throat but it was so raw that he could barely make noise.

Suddenly, the rain of dirt stopped. He wasn’t able to move enough to see what had happened but he was thankful for anything that extended his life, even if it was mere minutes.

The minutes extended into hours. Time seemed to stretch on forever.

George began to worry that the plan wasn’t to bury him alive but to leave him here, unable to move, until he died from exposure or thirst.

As time passed, the smell of opium began to had front the air, all sounds of music and laughter gone, replaced with the sounds of a busy city beginning to wake. George noticed none of this.

What he did notice was when a different scream filled the air.

This one, he was fairly sure, hadn’t come from him. He wasn’t sure that he could scream anymore even if he wanted to.

Everything seemed to move rather quickly after that.

He remembered pieces of it. Flashes of memory. Bright lights being shined in his face. Rough hands pulling him from the dirt. Fighting them desperately for his life as they dragged him away. Through the front of the house, which appeared as he remembered from entering, there was no blood covering the floor, no tiger skin rugs, no chandelier or couch, the archways covered in a faint layer of grime. His hands restrained behind him. A dark room, that reminded him far too much of the death he had narrowly avoided. Groaning, rocking back and forth, they left him in the room for far too long, he was convinced that he had been recused only to leave him to rot in a different hole.

People, many people, staring at him expectantly. He couldn’t find the words to answer the questions they were asking him. “Why did you do it?” They wanted to know. “How could you do that?”

George tried to explain. To tell them about the woman, the blood, the staircase that wasn’t there.

No one would listen.

He was declared mentally unfit to withstand trial.

Then, then they had brought him here. At least the walls were white here. They only threated to close in on him at night, when everything was dark and the walls grew black and smooth, taunting him with their ability to close in and suffocate him in his sleep.

No one believed him.

They hadn’t been there. They hadn’t seen the things he had. George considered telling them to go themselves, to see it with their own eyes, but he didn’t want to risk something happening to others. It was enough that someone knew. Maybe they could prevent others from going there.

Things weren’t awful here. Other than the walls that tried to kill him each night, he knew there would always be food and water. The doctors wouldn’t let the walls attack him. They came around every half an hour to make sure that they hadn’t moved. It never occurred to him that maybe, they came around to check on him. The doctors watch the walls for him.

And the best thing. The very best thing about being here… he never had to watch horror movies anymore. That was one bonus.

They don’t allow horror movies in a locked mental facility.

[supernaturallymarvellous]

Black Cats & Witchcraft

A/N: This is my first time writing anything based around Negan and it’s my entry into the “Fall into Negan” Challenge being hosted by @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash

Pairing: Negan x Reader

W/Count: 731

Warnings: Couple of f-bombs but nothing too bad!

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There have been rumours flying around for a while now that one of Negan's wives dabbles in the black arts. It's said that she uses herbs and chants to curse those who have wronged her or her husband; that she uses archaic language and blood to seek supernatural vengeance and of course, where Negan is concerned, there is always a plentiful supply of fresh blood.

There are some who say that it's not true, that's it's all just an elaborate con designed to intimidate people. But Y/N has powers they can't even begin to comprehend. It also doesn't hurt her reputation around the Sanctuary; those who fear her keep their distance and those who don't.....well there aren't exactly that many people who aren't scared of Negan's twisted little wife.

That was how Y/N operated. She kept mostly to herself, even shunning the company of the other wives. It was preferable to be alone than to have to keep up the pretence that she actually cared for anyone other than herself and her husband. She wasn't particularly envious of the others; they barely registered an interest for her and she had found that lately, Negan seemed to be spending less and less time with his harem, instead choosing to come to her room most nights. In fact, for all she cared, the Sanctuary and all its residents could burn so long as she and Negan had each other.

**********************************************************************************  The only time that Y/N found herself feeling lonely was when Negan ventured outside the safety of the Sanctuary on supply runs. This time, he had only been gone for a few days but his absence was hitting Y/N hard. Their goodbye had been hasty, cut short thanks to a handful of walkers trying to get through the perimeter fence. A hurried yet passionate kiss was all they had time to share before she was unceremoniously hustled back into the building, out of harm's way.

Y/N found herself moping. Her magic was suffering as well as her emotional well-being. Not surprising since they were intrinsically linked but despite this knowledge, Y/N still struggled. She stormed around the Sanctuary, sending people scuttling out of the way as her face held the signs of her distress. Seeking solace, she made her way to the roof where she could be alone with her thoughts, where she could try and centre herself once more.

Hours later, long after the sun had set, Y/N was pulled back to reality by the sound of a convoy heading through the main gates. Gathering herself up from the floor, she raced down flights of stairs and through corridors to reach the ground floor, not wanting to waste a second before she could be wrapped up in Negan's arms once more. Practically flying out of the front door, she threw herself at him as soon as he stepped down from the cab of the truck.

"Well, that is one hell of a fucking welcome home, darlin'. You miss me?"

"More than you would ever know. I've been on edge for the whole time you've been away. I don't like being left behind."

"Well sugar, I ain't letting you go out there. You're way too much of a precious commodity. But I did find a little something that might help in the future."

Extracting himself from Y/N's seemingly vice-like grip, Negan reached up into the truck and pulled down a small, tatty cardboard box with holes poked in each side. Placing it in Y/N's outstretched hands, he followed behind as she walked back towards the steps that led into the Sanctuary.  Ripping it open as she sat down, Y/N was greeted by the sight of a black kitten sleeping, curled up on top of a scrap of ripped up old blanket.

“Found him in an abandoned house a few miles away.  Thought he could keep you company – after all, doesn’t every witch need a familiar?”

A smirk worked its way across Y/N’s face.  She could just picture herself stalking through the building, the cat trailing behind her, hissing at anyone who got in their way.  She stood up, the grin still etched on her face, and looked back down at Negan.

“He’s perfect.  Now I just need to think up a name.  I’m going to get him settled, then perhaps I can show you, my darling husband, just how much I missed you.”

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