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chiropteracupola · 1 year ago

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it's the time of year again for another original spooky story... and thus we present to you:

"THE RAT PIPER"

“…..Now, all you who’re here, what story would you hear? Shall I tell you the tale of the boy who taught himself to speak to bees? The story of the sailor who won a mermaid’s heart? The story of the old inn and the ghostly hand?” The storyteller looked down at the children surrounding them and watched as they clamored, each cheering for a different old favorite out of all her tales. She smiled, teeth still bright in a worn, warm, age-freckled face.

“Oh, but those are far too often told, I think. I’ve another story, just right for a winter night like this one…”

“A new story?” asked one of the children, his eyes wide with hope.

“In that you have not yet heard it told, it’s new. But I shall begin first off by telling you just how old this story is.” The storyteller nodded to the boy, and began her tale….

——

Listen. There was, and there wasn’t, and there was a girl called Tamsen, and she was a child of only a few more years than you back when your grandfathers were young. She was a piper’s daughter, and went with him when he traveled to play the flute and the fife at betrothals and weddings and dances and sometimes funerals, for some people like that sort of music for a dirge. When her father was not piping away at music that would make trees shake their leaves just as you nod your head and clap your hands, Tamsen played the flutes as well, and even what she piped on an old tin whistle felt like a song that might make a forest lift up its roots and dance.

But Tamsen was a hungry-hearted girl, as many children are, and the space between her father’s notes never seemed enough to please her. So off into the woods she went, when the work of the day was done, and on the battered whistle her father had used as a boy, she played his songs and her own for no one but the forest. Or, so she thought.

The woods have a way of knowing when someone is wanting, and cascading through the branches above and the roots below and in every network of the forest, the song of such a hungry heart traveled far and wide. And something that had been waiting a terribly long time for such a tune to be played heard, and oh, how quickly he came skittering.

In that clearing in the forest where Tamsen went to whistle, a stump of an ancient tree served well enough to stand on. It was cracked across in places, all hollow beneath where its roots once had fed deeply from the earth of those woods. And up from one of the cracks came clambering a man barely the height of Tamsen’s two hands put together. He scrambled to stand a little in front of her on the stump, expression sour as he dusted splinters of wood from his fox-red hair and long blue coat.

Tamsen looked down at him with more curiosity than apprehension at first, cataloguing him as if she could manage to fit him into any notions she’d had before of the sort of creatures that might dwell someplace underneath a tree stump. The little man had a sharp face like a weasel’s and a pointed beard, and bright, clever eyes like a pair of polished silver buttons, which looked back at Tamsen with just as little worry as she’d felt. Tamsen, being a rather over-bold girl at the best of times, reached out and grabbed at the back of his coat, hoisting him up to her eye level.

“What the hell are you?” said Tamsen, holding out the little man in front of her at arms’ length.

“Do you kiss your grandmother with that mouth, tall girl?” said he, smiling like a knife blade.

“My grandmother lives two villages past the edge of the forest, and I only see her when my father is there to pipe at a betrothal or a wedding or a dance or a funeral, for some people like that sort of music for a dirge, and even then, I don’t kiss her at all, with this mouth or any other. What’s more, I don’t see what you mean, talking of grandmothers when I asked a question of you.”

The little man crossed his arms and pouted, kicking his feet in the air as if to emphasize his point.

“If we’re aiming for politeness now, one ought not to shake their acquaintances about like sacks of potatoes!”

“Oh. My name is Tamsen. How do you do?” she asked, and as she made her clumsy, father-taught bow, she made the mistake you must never make if you happen to be a character in a story. She gave her name to a creature of a sort she did not know, and so swung open a door to a place she had never intended to visit.

“Gannet will do for now, if you must call me something,” said the little man. That was not his name, of course — the sort of thing that he was did not have names as we know them to be, but we shall call him that as we tell the story. We are not that sort of thing, and we are fond of names. Now, we shall go on with exactly what he was doing, and the sort of power he liked to offer.

Gannet held up an ivory whistle, as long as he was tall, and Tamsen took it. It was carved all over with animals, long and twisting and tangling tails and legs together in a marvelous woven pattern.

“Now, tall girl, that’s no flute for betrothals and weddings and dances and funerals, even though it can play the right sort of music for a dirge. Play it just right, and you can pipe down a thunderstorm that will rain so long and hard that the mountains themselves will be washed away.”

Tamsen raised the whistle to her lips and blew, a note as sweet as coming inside from the cold, as sharp as an autumn wind all braided with dry leaves.

“Why did you give this to me, just like that? I haven’t got any money, I can’t give you anything in trade for it.”

“The whistle must be played, tall girl! And I cannot do it myself,” said the little man, pointing out his height with a sweeping gesture of one hand. “You’ve got the music to play it properly, so play it you must! Now, a tune, if you would, and we shall see who comes to dance.”

She played again, a song quick and merry as any young person running to visit their lover, and the wind came up and sang along with a voice all its own. The little man shivered within his coat, for the day was cold, and with a rush of wings, a thousand birds slalomed through the trees and spiraled around them. Tamsen gasped, nearly dropping the whistle, and the whirlwind of wings slowed.

“Tall girl, it’s you who’s called them up! Play on, they want their dance!”

Tamsen, you know, had a piper’s soul, and all the cleverness in her little finger that most have in all their body. So up she stepped, and making the same bow and scrape that her father made before he played, whistled up a song for the birds to dance to.

Scarlet and ash, black and white, a swirl of feathers patterned out a dance Tamsen knew. This song was a courting song, the sort played when the young folk just grown-up enough to be thinking of sweethearts would be dancing the night away. Tamsen had often stayed up to see them, and now, found the beating of wings and the fluff of feathers just as marvelous as the tapping of boots and the swish of skirts as the couples joined and turned and parted. For as long as she played, the birds danced for the two watchers in the clearing, and just as the song ended and Tamsen lowered the whistle from her lips, they were gone again in a flurry of color. She stared after them, breathless with awe, the surging pride at what she’d wrought filling her from the soles of her boots to the tip of her nose.

“With a talent like yours, no doubt you’ll find fortune in no time!” said the little man, bright and self-assured. Tamsen considered for a moment. She was the sort to like being petted and praised a good deal, and she got little enough of that as it was.

“How exactly might one go about doing that?”

“Well, say you were to set out on your own, see a little of the world, have a try at finding out just what that whistle there can do. And I’d come along of you, of course, for on one hand I should very much like to see you try your paces and on the other I have rather an interest in finding out some fortune for myself as well.” Now, to Tamsen’s mind, that sounded just the sort of thing she should like to do, and her hungry heart, which had begun rather to gnaw at the inside of her ribcage, bit a little harder in her chest as if to say “yes, yes!” But a bit of her father’s instruction beyond the methods of the music had worn on her, though not enough to keep her home.

“I’ll get my coat, then, for I’m not supposed to go far off without it. And then we shall go a-fortune-seeking!” And off she ran back to the little house where her father the piper dwelt, slamming into the front-room as brisk as the autumn wind. Tamsen took her coat from the hook by the door, put a loaf of bread in its pocket, and laced her boots up tight once more, for one bootlace had come a little loose in running.

“Pa, I’m leaving to seek my fortune!” she called, for her father was beside the hearth in his usual chair, not quite expecting her to be home or to be away.

“You’re doing what now, Tam?”

“Leaving to seek my fortune! Tell Grandma I love her! Bye!” And with that, she stepped out the door and back into the wind.

“What took you so long?” said the little man, who had been waiting at the hollow tree until she returned.

“I was hardly five minutes.”

“Well, everything’s slower when you’re small. Slower to get from place to place, slower to get attention…”

“What if I carried you, then? If we’re traveling together, it would be better if you could keep up.”

The little man paced back and forth, considering.

“Fine, then, but carry me careful. I am more fragile than you think.” Tamsen snatched him up by the collar and set him on her shoulder. “Not so rough, tall girl!” He wavered, wobbling, for a moment, then got a hand around the shoulder seam of her coat and held on tight.

“Onward!” said Tamsen, and off she went, running along the path with the wind at her back and the little man clinging to her shoulder like a rat to a railing. After a few minutes, she paused and turned to him. “Where exactly are we going?”

“Over the edge of the world and back again, even to the deep waters below where Chance and Luck swim like fish in a fishbowl. But you know the stories well, tall girl! Bold knights and brave ladies must quest first before they find where Fortune dwells.”

“That’s all?” said Tamsen, and gave a little hop and skip that made the man squeak with surprise.

“Of course not! We shall meet with adventure and you shall play the whistle for a betrothal and a wedding and a dance and a funeral, and you shall play the whistle for Fortune itself and see what comes of it!” And so they went, and the sun turned about the sky as it spun hand in hand with the moon, and the road passed beneath Tamsen’s feet as easily as the notes of the tune she played as she walked.

But before too long had passed, she came to a fork of the path, and what had been the road that led from the wood now was two, one that led down to the water and the other to the town. Down the road that led to the town, the miller’s daughter and the smith’s daughter were walking arm in arm, the smith’s daughter smart in her blue Sunday coat and fine silk cravat, and the miller’s daughter with her white petticoat all showing where the hems of her faded skirts came short. They saw Tamsen as soon as Tamsen saw them, though Gannet had seen them earlier and yet said nothing.

“Where are you going, little girl?” said the miller’s daughter, looking down the length of her nose at Tamsen.

“I’m not a little girl, I’m a piper!” said Tamsen in return, with a sharpness she regretted.

“She’s the piper’s daughter, that she is,” said the smith’s daughter, “and I’m sure she is as good a piper as ever her father has been. He played at my father’s marriage, you know."

“I’m a better piper than ever my father will be,” said Tamsen, sour and eager to defend herself, and behind her braid, Gannet laughed a little laugh to himself. “I can whistle down the birds from the trees and the rain from the mountains, so I can!” And she spun the ivory whistle between her fingers as her father had taught her, and made it shine so that every carved creature all down the length of it seemed to twist and dance in the last of the sunset’s light.

“Sing me a dress, then, Tamsen?” asked the miller’s daughter, then, with a little hope behind her haughtiness, and smoothed down the faded front of her skirts where water and wear had half washed the print from the calico.

“Well, it may not keep you warm, but I shall see what I can whistle up for you.” Tamsen blew the whistle, and remembered a song that her father had played at a dance, years and years before. It was a rollicking, rambling song, and her fingers flickered up and down the flute and made the tune ring out, just as bright as ever it had been. The wind came up, and whirled a gown of fallen red maple leaves, weaving stems and vines into a trim bodice and a wide skirt.

“Tall girl, don’t dawdle! Fortune’s waiting, come along!” Gannet tugged on one of her braids, and Tamsen turned and put away the whistle.

“Won’t you come with us instead and go dancing?” asked the miller’s daughter, plucking at her crackling-bright hems, her smile shy but just as bright.

“Let her go her own way, my apple,” said the smith’s daughter, and took her by the hand.

“I’m going to find my Fortune,” said Tamsen, “and perhaps I’ll come back some other day when I’ve got it in my hand.”

“You can’t just go around saying such things out loud!” said Gannet, half-offended, into her ear. His breath was very cold, and Tamsen shivered as though the wind had crept in and laid its cold fingers all along the edge of her cap. But she ignored him, and, standing up on her tiptoes, tucked a last bright leaf into the smith’s daughter’s buttonhole.

“There. Now you match, and may be on your way, and we will be on ours.” The smith’s daughter grinned and bowed, and the miller’s daughter curtsied, and Tamsen made her bow in return before they parted ways. Down the road to the river they went, Tamsen with her heart light and Gannet’s fingers clutching at her collar, and the whistle at her mouth all the way. As it had not been a long way from home to the turning of the road, it was not far to go to reach the water, and Tamsen was glad of it, for she had begun to tire of running, for all that the road to the place where Fortune dwelt seemed to be a smooth one indeed.

“This way, tall girl!” said Gannet, all sprightly and sharp, and pointed down the hill and out toward the broad horizon. The water lay out before them both, wide and dark and as smooth as the road had been, but Tamsen could not run down the current of it as she had run down the road, and beneath her coat, a shiver stroked her spine at the sight of it.

“I haven’t money for the ferry,” said Tamsen, in an attempt at practicality, and Gannet scoffed.

“Show them what you can do, and there’ll be reward in it for the both of us!” So down to the docks Tamsen skipped, and halted just before the ferry.

“I can play for my passage,” said Tamsen, drawing herself up as tall as she could. Gannet made a fierce face. The boatman smiled slow, and the boy perched near the prow put out a tar-smudged hand and hauled the two of them over the side.

“Would you whistle us a wind, lass?” asked the boatman, pointing to the whistle in her hand. Tamsen nodded, and played a shanty that spun up the waves to whiteness and sounded like a seagull’s call.

“I know this one!” said the boy, grabbing at Tamsen’s sleeve. “Do you know the words to it, miss?”

“No,” said Tamsen, setting down the whistle as the wind went on. “My father taught me the tune of it, but I’ve never heard it sung. Has it got a story to it?”

“It ends unhappy,” said the boy.

“Lots of songs do,” said Gannet, smiling sharp as ferrets’ teeth.

“Aye, but some don’t. Why don’t you play a happy song, the kind where everyone ends up all right at the end and they have a feast?”

“Feasts are a tricky thing too, lad. Oh, when you’re serving up and it comes time to carve in, you never do know just what’s on your plate. Meat’s messy, and it goes rotten quick as false-told tales. Better dry bones for me, strong and simple just as songs are.” Gannet snapped his teeth and smirked, and the boy shivered away and didn’t speak to them again, although Tamsen could always see him just at the edge of her vision, keeping a fixed look on Gannet out of the corner of his eye.

The boy did not speak to Tamsen or Gannet again, and his father did no more than smile softly as Tamsen played the last sweet chorus of the song, but sang the verse that told of sorrowful shipwreck, and the king’s fair bride dead before she ever was married, and all the captain’s bravery come to nothing. But though the shanty that Tamsen had chosen was no story of a smooth sail, they came to the other side of the water in good time, and the boatman wished them well as they went on their way, but the boy said nothing, and Tamsen clambered down alone.

And now that the further shore of the water lay before them, there was nothing else for Tamsen to do but to walk, and to play the whistle, and to walk again. To another town they came, larger than any one that Tamsen had ever seen, and so it was nervously that she passed the slow-swinging gates and into the empty avenues within.

“Where is everyone?” she wondered, but there seemed to be no one else but Gannet to hear her, and no sound but the padding of her own footsteps. That, and something more. A rustling, a skittering, a scratch-of-nails-on-slate sound, coming from everywhere at once. Tamsen spun, and saw a crooked shutter swing out on its half-rusted hinge, the wind picking at paint gone cracked and peeling with heat and sun and the fingernails of time. Her feet felt unsteady on the cobblestones, and scraps of paper and sackcloth blew about before her.

Tamsen knelt, plucking a bit of paper from the ground, the back of it dark and yellowed where glue had gone long dry. It was a label, but the writing of it was a mystery to her, for the paper seemed to have been chewed half out of existence by a myriad of tiny pointed teeth.

“Gannet, do you—“ she asked, the wind clawing at her coat and rolling dust over the toes of her boots, but before she could finish, Gannet shrieked “Tall girl, here!” and she snapped upright as if tugged by a marionette-string. Now the cobbles were all too solid, though Tamsen wished that they were not, for down through the windows and out through holes in the plasterwork and from every crevice of those long-left houses came a flood of rats, skittering and scuttling so that the streets rang with the sound of their claws all a-scrape against stone. Rustle and scratch and down came rats from roofs of moldering thatch, creak and squeak and clatter and out came rats from the cracks between boarded-over doors. Tails twined together in a wriggling mass of scaled skin, mangy fur showing through the spaces in between.

Tamsen put the whistle to her mouth, the instinct to do so as quick as a lightning-bolt and just as snapping-bright, but her fingers were frozen, and everywhere around them the rats were running. Gannet got a foothold in her braid, and climbed atop her cap, his sharp little fingers digging into her scalp, and Tamsen nearly shouted with the start of it, for his hands were clay-cold in the sun of that town that had been left to the rats.

“I don’t know what song to play!”

“Whistle, tall girl! You’ll know!” And so Tamsen placed her fingers on the whistle and played, and the rats rose like a river. They flowed up out of gutters and drains, poured out of windows and doors, scampered in a tidal wave of skittering feet and piebald fur. Gannet slipped down, but clung to Tamsen’s coat collar, pressing himself up against her neck with all his strength. All around Tamsen’s feet, the rats swirled and spiraled, dancing to her tune. She breathed in, and played faster and louder than before, and stepped up, up onto the backs of the rats, dancing with them light as leaves.

“Tall girl, have you lost your mind?” Gannet grabbed hold of her hair with sharp little fingers, but Tamsen only laughed into the whistle and played on.

“They’ll take us to find Fortune!” And the rats did, cascading along under Tamsen’s feet as she strolled along their backs. Rats can run a long time, if they’re caught up in such a thing as music. And human children can run a good long while, just the same. They’re not so fragile as one might think, both children and rats, though their bones are more brittle and their bodies smaller.

And so the day turned to night, and to day again, and the rats ran on, and Tamsen played the ivory whistle far past the point where she’d have gasped for breath before. But something new and wild had come up like the wind now, in her lungs and in her mouth, and over and over she played that song that told of lost loves and the fading ends of summertimes and bright beauties faded.

At last the rats slowed, for the town was long gone by, and the forest had faded first into chaparral, and then to plain, and then to nothing but sheer white stone, marked with deep and gaping cracks. Just as quick as they had come up from the houses and the holes, the rats scuttled down between the stones, and hardly before she knew it, Tamsen was all but alone again. The last notes of the song rang hollow on the empty air, and she looked to Gannet, questioning.

“What am I to do now?”

“Why, play on, tall girl! What else?”

“And Fortune?”

“The whistle must be played, the year must spin! With summer’s end, the piper calls the harvest in! There are to be dances, and betrothals, and weddings, but in the autumn must the funerals be held.”

“What—“

“You’ve had your betrothal and your wedding and your dance and your funeral, and now it’s time to play your dirge. Party’s over, tall girl.” The man crossed his arms, his face skeletal, his teeth sharp. There was an odd light to his eyes, once which Tamsen had rarely seen before. He clawed his way back to her shoulder, and though she tried to shake him free, he only dug his sharp fingers the more fiercely into her coat-sleeve. As he spoke again, he was right against her ear, shrill and demanding.

“Now, play the whistle, play it well! Pipe me one last tune!”

And Tamsen put the whistle to her lips and played a song her father had played after nearly every funeral. Not mournful, and something you danced to, to be certain, but slower, softer, the song the coffin-bearers might walk in step with as to the grave they went. The last song of all.

The wind came up, and the ground shook beneath her feet. Tamsen nearly lost her balance, and felt Gannet’s sharp hands grab at the back of her neck as he slipped off her shoulder.

The stones cracked and split, heaving up to reveal deep chasms beneath. Tamsen clambered to perch atop a spar of rock, missing a few notes as she played one-handed. And up out of the earth came the dead, dressed in bones clean and clattering, and danced. First a cascade of birds, somehow still flying despite their wing feathers having long rotted away, then people, of all ages, bones rattling as they stepped from foot to skeletal foot. Tamsen noticed one skeleton missing a leg, others with cracked-in skulls or fractured rib-cages, though it seemed not to impair them as they dipped and turned. Watching the dead in their dance from her place atop the jutting stone, she began to recognize familiar movements, familiar steps, though all danced to the same tune. Some made the box-step of a hornpipe, while others twirled their partners back and forth, skeleton after skeleton rising up to join the swirling rings of dancers.

Then, last of all, a new tide of bones, smaller than the rest, shook from the earth and solidified, scampering underfoot. A hundred million skeletons of rats, their bones bleached and shined, their tiny toe-bones skittering and clicking on the stone.

“You made this place.” The certainty settled on Tamsen’s shoulders like a pall, heavier yet than Gannet’s weight on her shoulder. “You’re not Fortune, are you.”

“Oh, but I am, tall girl! Fortune’s as much me as it is anything else, you see. There’s a fortune that’s your luck, and a fortune that’s your fate, and a fortune last of all, that is your death. The world turns, tall girl, and Fortune turns it, but my hands are small, small! I cannot gnaw through the threads of life all on my lane!”

“And exactly what is it you do, then?” Tamsen’s sharpness served her well, even as Gannet preened and smirked so near to her ear.

“Every year I take one, a clever tall girl or a bright tall laddie, no matter who so long as they can play. And every year they play the flute, and down at Fortune’s hands they go to clay.”

“It’s them, isn’t it?” Tamsen asked, but the certainty of the truth was already on her lips. Gannet only smiled, and she played on. The music came harder and faster and sputtered and crackled in her lungs, and her fingers moved so that she feared they might slip from their sockets entirely. If she did as Gannet asked of her, she’d die here too, and the next year, her skeleton would be among the dancers. But the music had her in its grip, Fortune had its hand wrapped tight around her shoulders and— and she was the piper. She called the dance with her tune, left right left right, hop and step and cross and back with every note. And just as she had begun it, Tamsen could end it.

She took a deep breath. Then Tamsen dropped the whistle from her mouth. The dance went on without her playing, the rattle and clatter of the skeletons keeping time in perfect morbid percussion. Tamsen watched for a moment, ignoring Gannet as he tugged at her hair and shouted at her to keep playing. She got a hold on either end of the whistle, then, and brought it down on her knee. It snapped in two with a crack, and every empty-eyed skull out of all the dancing dead turned to look at her.

The house of Fortune went silent. Not a clatter or a creak of bones, just a thousand empty sockets pointed like eyes, and Tamsen, her face set, staring back. Gannet, still clinging to her coat, shrieked, more shrill and piercing than the whistle had ever been. The world seemed to shiver under the weight of such a sound as that.

Tamsen reached up and caught him by the coat collar, and ripped him from her shoulder. He dangled from her hand, limp, eyes shut tight. Then he opened his eyes, steely-silver, and then, as if he had opened another set of eyes, somewhere else, he was gone, and Tamsen’s hands were empty. She let out a long breath that she hardly realized that she had been holding, and the silence broke, too, as she dropped the shards of the whistle to the ground. A clatter and a crack, and all the twisting and twining of the carved ivory creatures was no more movement than the wind blowing low over the drought-cracked ground.

The wind came up, catching at her coat-sleeves and her braids, and the skeletons turned to one another, looking lost. Tamsen watched them stumble about, then put her hands to her mouth and shouted.

“Go home!” The skeletons turned to face her again. “You found your fortune, all of you, didn’t you? Your families are waiting for you back in the world — go there! I think…” and at that, her confidence slipped a little, her voice half a whisper. “I think they miss you.”

Then, gaining confidence again— “What are you waiting for! Go!” Tamsen stared, standing, panting, and a hundred pairs of empty eye sockets stared back. The foremost of the skeletons cocked its head to one side, as if in confusion, and turned to its fellows, gesturing wordlessly. There were a few sharper cracks amid the general clatter, as of bones being hastily snapped, and when the spokesman turned back to Tamsen, it had in its hand a long leg-bone, all drilled with holes to make a flute.

“Oh,” said Tamsen, all the air knocked from her lungs. “Oh.” She took the flute carefully from the bony hand that held it — bowed over that hand as best she could as she did so. The skeleton, though it always had shown its teeth, seemed to grin at the prospect.

“…I’ll give you a dance for the way home, if you’ll have me.” Tamsen said the words very quietly, but the skeleton appeared to hear her, and curtsied, knee-bones clattering. And so she placed the flute of bone to her lips and blew, and the wind stayed where it was, but Tamsen was a piper down to the hungry heart of her, and all the wind she needed to dance the rest of the way was the breath curling in her lungs.

——

“And what happened to Tamsen afterwards?”

“Well, friends, this story is over, you see. The tale is done, the mouse has run, and whoever catches it shall make themself a fur hat out of it. That is the way of the world. But perhaps, if you are good and quiet, I’ll spin another story and show you the weaving of it.”

#em writes stuff #oc time again hehe #the rat piper #HAPPY HALLOWEEN LADS I'VE BEEN WORKING ON THIS ONE FOR TWO YEARS #and the cover art? well it is from two years ago when I started writing it. but What of It. go! read!

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watching-sam-and-dean-again · 1 year ago

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Why This Doesn’t Mean Destiel: Part 2 - Dean Wrapping up Castiel's Corpse

Part 1 - Zepline Traxx - here

Okay, so I saw this take floating around Twitter and Tumblr again in the last week or so: if Destiel isn’t canon then why did they have Dean wrap up Castiel's body in 13x01? This obviously means they’re married became because this is a ritual for widows in …. You get it. Well, allow me to offer my rebuttals to this totally unbiased idea. Now, I know hellers will never listen or care because they have their heads buried too far in the Destiel quicksand to ever see the light, but honestly, I just like to argue against takes that show a lack of media literacy, or takes that deliberately ignore the rest if the text, especially when it’s easy to do.

Arguments and screen shots under the cut due to length.

First: Let’s go with the Wincest reasons, just for funsies, and because I know it would piss hellers off. Dean can’t be married to Cass because, in Season 8, he already married Sam in a hand-fasting ritual. In a church. In front of a witness (Crowley). And despite some rough times in Seasons 9 abd 10, they never did get a divorce.

And:

So, if we need to put romantic significance on a moment like Dean wrapping Cass' body up for burning, then we also need to put romantic significance on Sam and Dean exchanging promises of devotion in a church (wedding), especially when the later is a very popular Western tradition and Suoernatural does, in fact, take place in the Western world. "But they’re brothers!" I might hear you cry is disdain. Well, Sam and Dean are weird, so there is that. But, it’s true, they are brothers, so they aren’t technically married in a romantic sense. But, neither are Cass and Dean. Dean considers Cass like a brother, too (which he has said more than once). He has also never referred to Cass and himself like a couple, even in passing or as a joke. In fact, he’s taken exception to the very suggestion (10x05). Thus, it’s not a romantic gesture on his part, but a familial gesture, a brothers in arms gesture.

Second: if Dean wrapping Castiel’s body can only be read as romantic in nature then how do we explain all of these moments:

1) Is it Sam or Dean who are in love with their dad? Or did they prepare John for burning together? Or did they get someone else to wrap him up before they burned him, so as to avoid the primarily spousal burial ritual from another culture that would have implied incest?

2) I guess nodoby could have had any romantic feelings for Ellen or Jo because, seeing as they got blown up, and didn’t have bodies to lovingly prepare before the ritual hunters cremation. Sucks to be them, I guess.

3) I guess Dean had to be in love with Charlie, even though that idea is not allowed because she’s a lesbian, since someone had to prepare Charlie’s body. Or was it Sam? It certainly looks like both of them where dealing with her body. No wait! Maybe Castiel did it, because he’s an angel so it doesn’t count. But, then it does count, but only if Dean is doing it for him... ?

4) What about Asa Fox and the other hunters who died in 12x06? Who was in love with them?!! Asa's body was wrapped up before Jody got to the wake, and she was the closest to being in a romantic relationship with him.

5) Oh no, who's in love with Mary? Which of her deviant sons prepped her before cremation? Or did Castiel do it? But, again, that would mean he’s in love with her. If only preparing somoncy's body before cremation didn’t only mean a character was in love with them. But, it does, I guess … So many plot-holes about who prepares the bodies in this show. If only there were an easier explanation. Also, it doesn’t look like Dean is feeling too romantic towards Castiel at this hunter's funeral, and this came after his preparing Cass to be burned.

6) Finally, who prepared Dean's body? Surly, it couldn’t have been Sam, even though he were the only one present when Dean died and he was the person who loved him most, because that would mean … Wincest. Gasp! Once again, if Destiel is canon because of one particular detail, so is Wincest (only Wincest has more "proof"). It certainly looks like Dean was wrapped with a lot of care, but who could have done it since no one on earth was in love with him at the time?

I guess for the preparation for cremation argument to be valid, it only counts if we see the preparation on screen? Because that is the only time it matters. So, Castiel's death and preparation for burial mattered more than John's, or Dean's? That seems really unlikely.

Finally: Let’s take a look at the scene in context.

Dean is upset, no one is arguing against that, but he’s not only upset about Castiel (despite what certain fans like to claim). Castiel, however, is the only corpse available to prepare and burn. Sam is off supporting a new-born Jack while he pays his respects to his mother's body, something Dean certainly wasn’t going to get involved in when he hates Jack at this point. So, while Sam is supporting his new angel (a clueless child in the new world) because someone has to, Dean is saying a last private goodbye to his angel, a fallen ally. There is a clear parallel here, as well as a sunrise-sunset thing going on here, and unless Jack is in love with his mother, it’s more about saying goodbye to family than to a lover. Also, this is Dean, he needs to take action rather than sit around and watch, especially when he’s upset, so him wrapping up Cass makes sense, but it’s in no way is inherently romantic.

But, those arguing that the scene set up in this way just to show Dean is in love with Cass, or that he loves him more than anyone, ask yourselves what Dean would do if it was Sam who died. Would he be sharing preparation duties with Castiel? But, then, we don’t have to wonder. The answer is No. He didn’t even want Bobby around when Sam died. When Sam died, Dean was so distraught that he couldn’t even prepare Sam's body, but sat with his corpse, mourning him for days (2x22). Then when the guilt and grief got too much, he went and sold his soul to bring his baby brother back. He didn’t even do the same for either of his parents, Castiel, Bobby or anyone else. Or, Dean literally Romeo-Ed himself on the spot when he thought Sam died in Season 11, and it doesn’t get a lot more "romantic coded" than Romeo and Juliet. So, even if someone had to read the scene with Dean wrapping Castiel as romantic (you really really don’t), it still wouldn’t mean destiel is canon because there always has and always will only be one great love is Dean's life. And it’s not Cass. With Sam and Dean (canon Gencest or fanon Wincest), there is no room for anyone else.

#sam and dean #supernatural #anti destiel #spn meta #burying their dead #heavy sarcasm

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catgrassplantdad · 1 year ago

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weekly tag wednesday! tagged by some sweeties @creepkinginc @deedala @energievie @arrowflier 💚

🔤 Name: jessie

🎶 Last song you listened to: setting sun by mutoid man. baby, we don't have much time....

�� Artist on Spotify giving you the feels right now: i've been spending a lot of time with the new howling giant album that came out on friday so i'll say them

👯‍♂️ Fave Blorbo Moment: right now i'm deep in some gallavich wedding feelings. like everything about the wedding. the planning, the florist scene, "i definitely love one," "look, i love you," "i should probably go dance with my husband." they literally got married......

🍟 Your guilty pleasure snack: no guilt here, but fuckin cheez its

🌮 What food are you craving today: i'm not hungry right now so it's hard to say

📖 Last fanfic tab you opened: real love baby by @sam-loves-seb so i can leave a comment. you've all been reading sam's work, right? get on that! sam rules, she absolutely slayed whumptober

🖌️ Favorite fic project you've created: it is impossible to choose, there are so many i'm proud of and my fave always changes. maybe i'll just cheat and hype up my latest offering. sleepy collared gentle d/s lovin' that i very much enjoyed writing and was very excited to share

👩🏼‍🎤 Next tattoo you want (or would consider if you're not a tattoo person): might just add to the big piece on my arm next. the artist had some stuff he wanted to add a while ago. i also was thinking of getting something between my tits soon. by soon i mean within the next couple of years lololol. i don't get tattooed often anymore.

🧐🆓 What's living in your head rent free this week: honestly? s2 of our flag means death. the silly stuff is delightful, the darker stuff early in the season was done brilliantly, the romance is so satisfying. i fucking love that show.

tagging @howlinchickhowl @gallawitchxx @heymrspatel @whatwouldmickeydo @whatthebodygraspsnot @gardenerian @thisdivorce @rereadanon @squidyyy23 @sam-loves-seb @squidyyy23 @too-schoolforcool @palepinkgoat @sleepyfacetoughguy @crossmydna @transmickey @tanktopgallavich @sickness-health-all-that-shit @7x10mickey @michellemisfit @auds-and-evens @mmmichyyy @ardent-fox if you guys feel like playing 💜

#tag game

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wintearys · 9 months ago

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@lannisther asked: ❝ I’ve heard you’ve had twelve children since you were wed. Is there truly nothing else to do at Faircastle? ❞ (jeyne f.)

"You heard right. To be fair, many came in pairs." A few twins here and there certainly makes the number be all too grand. The last time he truly saw Cersei had been that day when she ran away from Maggy the Frog's prophecies and decided not to listen to her own. After that, the Farman siblings both accepted roles given, her brother as the new lord, and Jeyne married. She had been blessed with a good husband, and one with an appetite.

"And I didn't mind a few more. With the amount of children I have, I could be the new Florys the Fox." From her new houses would emerge, children for all the seven kingdoms and then further, to Essos and beyond. "Childbirth was not easy but I was blessed, like yourself, to retain my figure after those torturous hours."

#lannisther #「 ✷ 」 » asks. / ━━ ˋ raven from king's landingˎˊ˗#「 ✷ 」 » interactions. / ━━ ˋjeyne farmanˎˊ˗

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buglyknight · 1 year ago

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800) i danced

came when it was first

coming up

i danced like

nobody was there to love

i became

hungry canines

tore blanket like

tearing strips of meat

could feel my bones moving

sent it off

wedding shotgun

i was me

every age

elementary school gave her a

Garra card from naruto TCG just so she'd

eat lunch with me

im dancing

care to dance?

i danced with your ghost

twirled you round the room

why so many of you asking me out?

not gonna choose

let's dance

only want to date me for four days?

sure, not like i have a say

let's dance

i'll make you a sculpture in minecraft

we'll blow it up together

let's dance

oops did i say i love you too fast

sorry, not gonna last, my bad

i'll dance this one out

want to make-out in maplestory?

i'll be a henny-whore with you

we can dance

almost fell down backwards

tripping over my own two feet

just dancing

roll it over the shoulders

quick stretch break,

all good?

back to dancing.

time for a concert

you only brought tickets for one

would you look at that?

you're the only one here!

let's dance

you never thought you were one for concerts

too many people, too loud

look at you now

you're dancing

oh, hit that high note

yeah, scream this one out

listen to those Layers

the drums are jumping

that guitar is winding

those synths are melting

oooh damn that shit's clean

woah that funk is greasy

dirty never felt so good

neat never felt so right

dance with them

for us at prom

the wedding night's on

that house with the alcoholic mom

dancing her off

ive never moved so much

grooved so much

i was panting with hunger

slow aching guts

i was the dog

i was a colonial settler during the witch hunts

i was a preteen girl

a mother feeding her cubs

i was me at thirteen

i knew what it took to kill a man

to hold a hunted fox in hand

i slipped off some flesh for you to chew

i became the spiders

i was so many things breathing in the room

i became all of them

i let them all become me

and i was dancing

headbang with the rhythm

i danced till you were just

dressing for the salad

i danced until you were

just another pair of hands

i twirled you round at the fair

we danced

spun you right out of thin air

i danced

THE SHRIKE came and went

stuck me to the branches and

left me as an offering

i danced

you were just a girl

but in this room, ive got the world

and a 26 year old feeling pent-up teenage angst

fuck you, dad!

i danced

middle school love affair

i danced

parents went to prison

i danced

brother with the gun

i danced

would you care to dance?

we should have danced.

i'm dancing

i'm screaming at the top of my lungs

there's a jet engine in my movements

i wish you would have danced with me

and this is it

let's dance about it.

you're just a sweater

a morse code letter

let's dance

a night at the fair

a breakup over text

who cares?

let's dance

an eighteenth birthday

a wish upon every star

what did you say?

we danced

sorry, did you want to play that one back?

hold on, i'm dancing

a dinner date

cheating on your fiance

let's dance

sorry

i'll dance

for every me

i'll dance

yeah, i'm crying

singing you a eulogy

but it's alright

i'm dancing

see me with my air guitar

jumping on my bed like a bounce house

pretty cool, right?

want to dance?

see my head banging in tempo

in band class, you got pantsed

quit crying, just dance

they said you had a small dick

jokes on them, you're packin 7 inches

dance about it

is it ironic you like when it's

called pathetic?

dance about it

hey, kid,

you never danced

too busy feelin caged

want to dance?

never were free enough to have a chance

wanna slip off those chains?

and into this new sweater

it's so comfy

mom gone to bed screaming again?

she asleep?

yeah, looks like it

brother stopped hitting you for a moment?

stopped abusing everything?

yeah, thanks, let's dance

slipped away finally, so,

i danced

you tired yet?

yeah, let's dance

your muscles screaming?

yeah, let's dance

your lungs have never been more clear

holy shit you can breathe through both nostrils

why do you keep cats around when you're allergic

'dunno, i like em

let's just dance

smile with your canines

looks more like a snarl

tongue between bloody teeth

front tooth with a chip in it

let's dance

look, you got out, kid

just a few scars to tell the time

he got hit by car

he mellowed out

let's dance

feel it through the shoulders

roll it round the world

it comes back with the downbeat

push it up the hill

and dance

smile, free

you alone in this trance?

yeah, so i held my own hand

took my own soul out

you missed your chance.

i was everything and

we danced.

i danced.

#102829 #poetry #poem

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tempestaurora · 28 days ago

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here is my definitive list of (totally correct) glee opinions:

i am a jesse st james truther i am thrilled he's rachel's husband, he has been pining over her for years

finn, my beloved, only got hot in season four, and for that one season he was actually so fucking hot and i had been very meh on him until then. also i know he was supposed to be "not stupid, but sweet and naive" but like, he made some ridiculously bad choices. also getting mad at quinn for not telling everyone that she had been improving at walking after being wheelchair bound, and not listening to her explain that she wanted everyone to see her at her best again, not hobbling around and vulnerable, was fucking stupid and he never apologised about that to my memory

glee got bad after season 3. i don't watch beyond it anymore because none of the s4-s6 new cast members are interesting at all, but i dip in and out for my favourite songs and episodes like the valentine's day wedding where emma pilsbury smashes not getting married today

case in point: they had a puppet episode in which they sang what does the fox say

marley was boring. i am right. she was so fucking boring

and kitty sucked. there is no redemption arc for her that can make up for the actively racist shit she said for her entire time on the show

i never really cared for kurt or blaine, i liked the beginning of their relationship but i think it got a bit stale for me. i actively disliked them getting engaged because kurt looked so unhappy and uncomfortable and like he would rather be anywhere else for the entire proposal song and that was just never addressed. like i felt like he was being held at gunpoint and i waited many episodes for the other shoe to drop and it just never did

burt hummel best fictional dad in existence

will schuester was a fundamentally bad teacher. if you were interested in changing teenager's lives and not actually imparting the knowledge they need such as spanish or history, you should've worked at a community centre or smth

puck was my favourite character as a teenager. now i am an adult, he is a massive loser. i still enjoy the character but he honestly is creepy and lame and he is constantly so worried about being a loser forever but!!! he is one!!! he peaked in high school and then joined the air force because his best friend died and i think the writers really didn't know what to do with him

the trend in fiction of making rebellious, anti-establishment teenagers into cops or military when they're adults is stupid

when you watch glee in a short period of time you can actually see how insane quinn's arc is because she is having a baby, cutting her hair, dying it pink, becoming a skank, trying to frame shelby for child neglect, being angry, getting hit by a truck, in a wheelchair, walking again, going to yale, being at yale, denying everything about herself, getting a really bad spray tan or bleaching her hair which creates the same uncanny effect, and then falling in love with puck again in a really, really short period of time

the rachel berry tv show thing was STUPID. REALLY BAD WRITING. they had literally given rachel her dream. the writers suddenly realised there was nothing to write for her unless she lost it all, but she was too talented to lose it. she had funny girl. there was literally no way in hell she would've gone for tv after that, ridiculously out of character.

sam should've been the leading man from the minute he was introduced. i'm glad he finally gets his time to shine in the ass crack of s4 and 5, but truthfully the moment rachel and co graduated, it shouldn't have been who's the new rachel, it should've been who's the new finn? because everyone had the ability to hit the notes and perform showstoppers (and they could share out the solos a lot more that way), but not everyone had the leadership ability and grounding presence to counterbalance the power voice in the songs. sam had that. sam should've been used a lot more and a lot better earlier on (he was also a better singer than finn since he was introduced)

and frankly i think that's why a lot of s4 feels so flat and disjointed, because there is no leadership. there is no one taking on that role and guiding the others through, and now that glee club is popular and none of them are actively bullied anymore, its like the show forgot about why having a football player in the club was important

which side note did sam ever go back to football

that being said. he had such a fun arc with britney, i loved them together, and got to do some really cool stuff on his modelling-teaching career. still a massive fan of him. still insane over the fact that no one ever reported the fact that he was an underage stripper and canonically lost his virginity to a client at the stripbar, which means he was probably SA'd and doesn't seem to know it.

which. on the topic. while, again, ass crack end of the show, ryder's confession of being SA'd as a child was treated so fucking terribly in the show. not only did he admit his darkest secret to everyone so he could out a catfish (and not so he could actually express it after a lifetime of never doing so), but every boy in the room saying that it didn't matter because good for him a girl wanted him, and the only real defence was the incredibly weak line of this is his truth. like. the show literally never actually addressed that boys can be SA'd, and while will said "i will have to report this", we never actually get anything out of that and it leaves it on such a loose note. bad

i think they stopped caring about football in season 3 honestly. because we never see it again. and like, coach beiste was an important character but we never saw them actually work until like season 6 when sam works with them. is the football team doing well? does anyone care if glee is? i like thinking about will having to tell coach beiste that they're fired because the school is becoming an arts school even though its got multiple-state and national champion athletic teams.

like i cannot stop thinking about that. the cheerios won like 7 times. the football team made history at that school. they had an olympic bronze medalist for a swim coach. sports were VERY IMPORTANT at that school and they chose to - instead of just reintroducing the arts - make it an arts school and remove the sports from it entirely????????

NOT TO MENTION the entire show has sue and will at each other's throats in an athletics vs the arts thing, and they are constantly shitting on each other (sometimes will is making a good point until he questions the validity of cheerleading) when like!!!! cheerleading is fucking DANCE. its athletics AND the arts!!!!!!!!!!!!!! what the fuck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! you literally include the cheerleading coach to choreograph your glee club in s3!!!!!! also sports is important too!!!!!!!

santana was right to audition to be rachel's understudy, wrong not to inform her in advance, wrong to quit the show due to the opportunities it would've afforded her

despite me not caring about season 6 at all other than the 2 finale episodes, whoever the fuck sang tightrope--that song is one of the only glee songs i listen to casually. it slaps

also the fucking audacity to have the club lose nationals while sam-blaine-tina are leading and they're singing finn's favourite songs????? shit. stupid. bad.

best guest stars in order: gwyneth paltrow, idina menzel, demi lovato, kristen chenowith, neil patrick harris, matt bomer, everyone else

kurt was so insanely biphobic throughout the show and he never really got over it from what i can tell, he just stopped talking about it

brodie male prostitute was a stupid arc

the disparity in prizes for the various winners of the glee project is insane. the top prize was supposed to be a 10 episode arc i think. samuel larson, 25 episodes, two semi-centric arcs upon introduction (godsquad) and season 3 (almost dates quinn and all signs point to them doing so but the writers literally dropped it without comment). damien mcginty, 18 episodes (intro arc, christmas episode, flirting with sugar/deportation episode). mind you, those two were joint, tied winners. blake jenner, 39 episodes, main cast, multiple centred arcs. alex newell, 43 episodes, main cast, multiple centred arcs - and they were a runner up!!!! and the other runner up from the same season as newell was lindsay pearce and she only got two minor moments in the show!! in jenner's season, ali stroker got one episode as a runner up and aylin bayramoglu got zero!!! and her name doesn't even have a hyperlink on wikipedia!!!!

all this to say, the glee project was fucked, man

finally: i think about artie jumping into the pool during the we found love proposal swimming pool scene at least once a week. perfect television.

if you think i almost cried at the glee finale on my 4th time watching it. no i didn't. fuck you

#glee #talk

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lilolpotato · 4 years ago

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Chemicals

In which Miya Atsumu slowly poisons his girlfriend’s mind, and Suna Rintaro gives her the antidote

Warnings: Toxic behavior, body shaming, like 2 swear words

Genre: ANGST

At first it was small. That’s how it always starts, really.

You both had started dating recently, and you were in the honeymoon phase.

He would constantly make you blush, never failing to compliment you.

“Princess! If you were an angle you would be an aCUTE angle” he would wink, before hugging you and telling you how beautiful you looked that day.

Maybe it was wishful thinking or naivety, but those days you thought you both would never break up.

You spent summer nights in his muscular arms, dreaming about how handsome he would look in a suit, about the words he would say as you’re getting married, about how his face would look when he sees you in your wedding dress.

You got late on your way to the gym, he was going to walk you home like always.

You decided to just buy him a snack instead of making one like you would usually

His eyebrows creased in disappointment when you handed him the snack you bought

“You seriously bought it?”

Atsumu was too consumed in taking out his frustrations to notice your eyes growing sad

But he played it off like a joke later, and apologized.

He made excuses that he was tired from practice, or that he was frustrated with his last test grade

“Sorry princess, I swear I didn’t mean it. You know I’m grateful for how supportive you are!” He whined, “I love you, I wouldn’t change you.”

With a kiss on the lips, the incident was forgotten.

The next time he got angry was when you were late to a date

Your were stuck at the store, getting yourself some band-aids because you fell and it was bleeding, but the line was very long

It wasn’t an anniversary or an important or particularly expensive place, but it still made him angry.

You walked in half an hour late, bruises and scrapes all over your arms and legs looking like you’d just gone through hell, with a smile

You expected your Tsumu to fuss over you, give you kisses, and tell you everything was gonna be okay.

“Is this you trying to get me back for getting mad at you when you bought me that shitty snack instead of making me something? You know, all of my past girlfriends would make me delicious bentos and take care of me the right way.”

Your face dropped.

He dragged his hands through his golden hair, and the eyes that you fell in love with became eyes you were intimidated by

That day you cleaned your wounds on your own, trying to tell yourself that he shouldn’t have been that angry

But when you looked inside your heart, all you found was love and guilt.

The next day at his practice, you brought a bento you had spent hours working on, bandaids everywhere and your Tsumu apologized and moved on.

“Sorry babe, I was frustrated with practice. Love ya, bye.” He said nonchalantly.

A peck on the lips and the incident was forgotten.

You sat at the bench cheerfully, watching the team, happy that your problems were ‘solved’

Fox-like eyes noticed all your scrapes and bruises, and he sat next to you during breaks in practice, the same breaks Atsumu used to talk to his teammates and fan girls, and he asked you if you were okay.

While your Tsumu should have been consoling you, Suna was fussing over you, telling you everything was going to be okay, as your fake cheerful attitude dropped. His fists clenched as you tearfully admitted how Atsumu felt about your shortcomings as an s/o

That day, and the days after that, Suna Rintaro acted more like a boyfriend than your Tsumu did, despite your Rin only being your best friend.

Atsumu would say, “Babe, are you wearing make up? You know I like your natural look.”

And your Rin would assure you, “You look stunning no matter what you put on your face” with a tiny grin and adoring eyes.

“Hey, princess? Can you put on some make up? Your skin is looking irritated today.” Atsumu would advise.

Your Rin would disagree, shaking his head, “Even if your skin ‘looks irritated’ or whatever, who said that’s a bad thing? You should put whatever you want on your face, sweetheart, don’t listen to him.” And you would tease your Rin for being cheesy.

Atsumu would look at you in surprise,“You can’t fit into the dress I bought you? Maybe you should lose some weight, my ex was a size zero, but don’t worry, I won’t expect you to get there in a day!”

Your Rin would tell you, “I think you look beautiful, size 0 or size 100! Is there a size 100?” You would laugh together as he grumbled that talking to you was making him lose brain cells.

His foxlike eyes watched you, as he admitted to himself that he would make himself look stupid however many times if it made you laugh like that.

Atsumu would critique, “You should eat more. You’re looking pale these days, it’s kind of bothering me.”

And your Rin snapped at him that day, saying “I think your girlfriend can very much choose what she wants to put in her body.”

Atsumu only shrugged and continued munching on the bento you had painstakingly made for him

Your Rin looked at his bento in envy

Osamu would only give you a small apology whenever he heard Atsumu say something mean to you.

He didn’t know you very well, but he did know that you didn’t deserve to be treated like that. However, he wasn’t aware of how often Atsumu would insult you.

As the days went by, you noticed a difference between your Tsumu and Atsumu.

Atsumu hurt you. Atsumu scolded you for your mistakes. Atsumu made you question whether you were good enough to be his girlfriend.

Your Tsumu would never make you feel that way. To your Tsumu, you were a treasure, and he was grateful to keep you.

You and your Rin were walking on the grounds, because Atsumu was mad at you again.

“You’re talking to Suna too often!” He had huffed angrily, “Don’t be such a slut! He’s my best friend, don’t lead him on like that. Are you cheating on me?”

You convinced yourself that things will get better, that it was only Atsumu’s insecurities making him angry and hurtful so often.

The final dose of poison was when he fed some of the bento you had made to one of his fangirls.

They had asked for a taste, eyes sparkling, taking about how Atsumu and Osamu always had the best bentos.

So Atsumu took the chopsticks he was using, the same ones that his lips were on, and used it to feed that girl.

He was unaware that you were tearfully watching, your Rin at your side, your heart officially broken.

You walked up to him, asking him how could you do that, how could you hurt me like this?

But he scowled angrily, and those eyes, the same eyes you were once in love with, the eyes you were scared of, glared at you with so much hatred your knees almost went weak.

And after he said, “So now ya understand how it feels?” in such a petty way, the tears you’ve been holding back for so long finally came bursting forth, and so you told him, “I’m done.”

His eyes widened in realization, and before he could say anything, you finally stood up for yourself.

Because then, you told him what he’d been doing to you as the fangirl and your Rin, your currently seething Rin, watched.

“You’re poison, Miya Atsumu. You tell me to lose weight, so I starve myself. You tell me I’m a slut, that I’m not good enough. You’ve told me that I’m not pretty enough without make up, that I shouldn’t wear make up. I foolishly followed because I loved you!” You stomped your foot in frustration of your past actions.

And you walked away.

You walked to your Rin, the one who treated you how you deserve to be treated.

Because you deserve better.

Atsumu only watched helplessly as your Rin put his muscular arm around you, as you leaned on his chest, as you walked away.

Miya Atsumu isn’t the one who gets dumped, he’s the one doing the dumping.

He tried to convince himself, delude himself that it wasn’t his fault but he knew it was.

Tears fell from his once scary eyes, years later, as he looked at the wedding invitation.

You’re invited to the wedding of L/n Y/n and Suna Rintaro

He never deserved you, he poisoned you, and now that the poison doesn’t have anywhere to go, it ended up consuming him.

Miya Atsumu, professional volleyball player and playboy, sat in the corner of his apartment with sobs racking his body as he cried over his mistakes and everything he’s lost.

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j4gm · 4 years ago

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TOGETHER AGAIN SPOILERS

A thread of lore, Easter eggs, episode connections, and background details from Adventure Time: Distant Lands: Together Again! Let me know if I missed anything! This is adapted from my original Twitter thread.

Keep reading ⬇️⬇️⬇️

1. I was expecting them to perhaps do a classic style title sequence for this episode, but I wasn't expecting them to straight up use the original title sequence. The only difference is this final screen saying "Distant Lands".

2. The background of the title cards is also the hill from the title sequence.

3. The ice cream having "50 flavours" and having an image of an enlightened soul is an obvious reference to the 50th Dead World as we see it later in the episode.

4. Continuing with the metaphor, the dirt in the ice cream could be a parallel to the fact that Jake's Nirvana actually wasn't perfect, because his inaction was allowing for injustice to perpetuate.

5. This whole scene feels immediately slightly off. Finn has his Scarlet sword and is out on a classic Ice King adventure, but he speaks in his grown voice and all the slang feels much more forced than it did in the real season one. Turns out this was deliberate.

6. The snow golem speaks with a baby voice like it did in the pilot episode, even though in canon it has a deeper voice. This further hints that something is not quite right.

7. The first major break in continuity is these snow golems resembling Uncle Gumbald and Peace Master, who Finn didn't meet until later in his life.

8. LSP sitting on Finn's head like this is reminiscent of Pen Ward's piece for the 2018 Ble crew zine.

9. Finn being given the choice of helping somebody but ending up helping everybody reminds me of "Memories of Boom Boom Mountain". It's the kind of resolution that wouldn't happen so much in the late seasons of the show, which helps make this scene feel even further out of place.

10. Jake is half frozen by Ice King in pretty much the exact same way as he was in "Prisoners of Love", and even has a very similar line.

11. The Snail is seen here. The crew have said that the Snail has been deliberately left out of previous Distant Lands specials, so its placement here is another very deliberate hint that this whole sequence is "trying too hard" to be like the early seasons.

12. The book "Mind Games" appears a couple of times, as seen in several previous episodes of Adventure Time. The first is as Finn is approaching the library in his dream. It also appears as one of the items in Finn's backpack later.

13. Jake is hurt when Finn fist bumps him with his metal arm, revealing that this scene is not real. This is also a callback to the title sequences of "Islands" and "Elements".

14. A whole bunch of familiar skeletons are seen in the bird's nest: Dirt Beer Guy, Abracadaniel, Me-Mow, Lemongrab, Mr. Pig, and the Snail again. This doesn't necessarily mean that all these characters are dead, since this scene is just a hallucination.

15. Old Man Finn! He's still got the chest tattoo of Jake, and this time we know that Jake is dead, so the theory that Jake died before "Obsidian" seems pretty likely. He looks similar to his old man design from "Puhoy", with the same facial hair.

16. There are several cameos of familiar characters who apparently died at the same time as Finn. The first is this duck, who previously appeared in "Ocarina".

17. The second is Donny, from the episode... uh, "Donny".

18. This goblin guy is an unnamed background character from “The Silent King”.

19. This old lady first appeared in "The Enchiridion", way back in season one. Old ladies are a species in the Land of Ooo, so I guess she wasn't actually very old back then, given she just about outlived Finn.

20. This is the cobbler who first appears in "His Hero". Amazing that he lived so long given all the trouble he got into in that episode.

21. Land of the Dead! This place was first seen in season two's "Death in Bloom", and now we are finally learning its actual purpose. It's a sort of gateway and hub to all of the other dead worlds.

22. There are some more minor cameos at the gates: a house person from "Donny", a soft person from "Gut Grinder", and a wood person from "When Wedding Bells Thaw". And, of course, the gate guardian himself from “Death in Bloom”.

23. Finn completely ignores the gate guardian in the same way he did in Death in Bloom. This also has the convenient effect of not having to reveal how Finn died, leaving it up to the audience's imagination.

24. Mr. Fox! We already knew he would die at some point because BMO had his skull in the finale.

25. Finn has his design from the first Distant Lands poster in this scene. Turns out it's young Finn in old Finn's clothes. But they gave him a shirt in the poster so you wouldn't be able to see the tattoo.

26. The clapping that Finn does while he's looking for Jake is a callback to "James Baxter the Horse", when Jake tells Finn to listen for that same rhythm if they are killed and need to find each other in the afterlife.

27. Mr. Fox talks about a "past life quotient", suggesting that there might be some kind of limit to how many times somebody can reincarnate. Finn's reincarnations are also seen in this scene; a callback to "The Vault", and confirmation that reincarnations share the same soul.

28. Boobafina, the goose who Mr. Fox was in love with in his debut episode “Storytelling”, apparently reincarnated into a tugboat. We've already seen that objects can have souls in the episode "Ghost Fly".

29. Finn is initially assigned to the 37th Dead World, which is the same one that Jake went to when he died in "Sons of Mars". We can only guess at what the other numbers on the ticket mean ;)

30. Tiffany! Despite several lucky escapes throughout his life, Tiffany has finally died. I like the use of this imagery to express Finn's conflicted feelings about him.

31. The 50th Dead World has long been established as the "highest" dead world, and the one synonymous with Heaven within Adventure Time's universe. It was first mentioned in "Ghost Princess" back in season three.

32. It's unclear what happens to souls which are destroyed within the dead worlds. It is a similar question to asking what happened to the ghosts that were killed in "Ghost Fly".

33. Death doesn't speak at all in Together Again because his voice actor, Miguel Ferrer, passed away in 2017 long before production began.

34. Finn phases through New Death when he tries to attack him, just like what happened way back in "Death in Bloom".

35. The 30th Dead World contains Tree Trunks as well as many of her love interests; Mr. Pig, her alien husband from "High Strangeness", Danny and Randy who first appeared in "Apple Wedding", and several more who we don't recognise, including at least one who presents as a woman.

36. Literally yelled when these two showed up. Joshua calls Finn a crybaby, which is a callback to "Dad's Dungeon".

37. The wall of weapons in Joshua and Margaret's house includes the iconic Demon Blood Sword, which was broken in "Play Date", as well as Margaret's auto-loading crossbow from "Joshua & Margaret Investigations".

38. Jermaine is sidelined a few times through the episode, in reference to his attitude in "Jermaine" where he feels that Finn and Jake were always their parents' favourites. I would have hoped things would be a bit better by now.

39. Fern gets name dropped while Finn and Jake are reuniting. A shame he doesn't actually show up in the episode.

40. In this scene, Finn says "What time is it?" This is a very subtle reference to the 2010 cartoon "Adventure Time".

41. In a couple of shots during this fight scene it looks like Jake might have a tattoo. It seems like it only becomes visible when he stretches out his arm.

42. New Death's amulet in this scene resembles parts of the Lich's cape, foreshadowing his influence on New Death.

43. There are several more cameos in the 50th Dead World: Booshy from "High Strangeness", one of the Marshmallow Kids from "Scamps", and Ghost Princess and Clarence, who were seen ascending to the 50th Dead World in "Ghost Princess".

44. Finn didn't interact with Booshy in "High Strangeness", but it seems they must have met at some point before they both died because Finn knows his name.

45. It seems like people in the 1st Dead World are slowly melted away until they become part of the landscape. Nasty.

46. Lots more cameos in this scene: a gnome from "Power Animal", a gnome from "The Enchiridion", a Bath Boy from "The Vault", Blagertha from "Love Games", Maja the Sky Witch, a troll from "Dungeon", Chocoberry, Choose Goose, Wyatt, a spiky person from "Gut Grinder", and possibly more.

47. Tiffany's insults are consistently nonsensical and amazing, as they were in the original series.

48. The Candy Kingdom looks extremely different. Peppermint Butler is wearing the crown so he might be in charge now, which is supported by the kingdom's very magical-looking augmentations. It’s not clear whether Finn and Jake were expecting to find Princess Bubblegum or Peppermint Butler, since both have the initials “PB” and both could be going by the title of “Princess”. Perhaps Peps and Bubblegum share the princess duties now that PB is living with Marceline more of the time.

49. Peppermint Butler has a "Boss" mug, although it's not the same colour as the one from "Obsidian".

50. Jake's ghost has the same design as he did when BMO killed him in "Ghost Fly". I also absolutely love Finn's ghost. This scene establishes that ghosts are just visitors to the mortal plane from the dead worlds.

51. Life has only appeared in animated shorts before now. Namely, "The Gift That Reaps Giving" which establishes her relationship with Death, and "Frog Seasons: Winter". This episode gives her a concrete place within Adventure Time's pantheon: she is in charge of reincarnation.

52. A translation of Life’s angry French dialogue by Shado: “After all I did for that boy. After all I did for him. No, it's not possible. It's not possible no, that... that makes me so mad but it's not possible.”

53. We finally have in-universe confirmation that Shoko's tiger is a previous life of Jake. This was previously confirmed by one of the writers, but wasn't canon until now.

54. I feel like Finn pulled off Shoko's look even better than Shoko did. I wonder whether Finn has gained the memories of his past lives now that he’s dead.

55. No Easter egg here, just want to appreciate this image.

56. There is an elemental symbol on the wall here, as seen in "Jelly Beans Have Power".

57. Tiffany's dramatic internal monologue is a recurring gag, as is his habit of nearly dying from falling into holes.

58. The Jake suit makes a cameo in the fight against New Death. It was last seen in the episode "Reboot”.

59. Finn's backpack contains a few familiar items: the t-shirt with the pocket from "It Came from the Nightosphere", Finn's underwear from "Little Dude" and other episodes, and a copy of Mind Games as I've already mentioned.

60. The Lich's Hand is present in the background of Death's... death scene. This is probably the unseen "friend" who New Death keeps talking about.

61. The Lich's menacing monologues often begin with a single command. Previously they have included "Fall" and "Stop". This time, the command is "Burn".

62. Jake uses the word "boingloings", which is a callback all the way to "Hitman" in the third season.

63. Jake's blue shape-shifter form from "Abstract" appears very briefly during his fight with Finn.

64. Finn's lumpy space person form also makes an appearance. This design was last seen all the way back in the second episode of the entire show, "Trouble in Lumpy Space".

65. Jake steps on the Lich's hand in a very similar way to how he stepped on Ash in "Memory of a Memory", which is itself a Monty Python reference.

66. The credits include a dedication to a few AT cast and crew who have passed away. Polly Lou Livingston was the voice of Tree Trunks. Miguel Ferrer was the voice of Death. Michel Lyman and Maureen Mlynarczyk were both sheet timers on the original series. Rest in peace.

67. The message that Finn and Jake write out on the ouija board is "BUTT", which Peppermint Butler takes as a distress signal. This message is also used as a distress signal by the Hot Dog Knights in "The Limit".

68. Peppermint Butler's reversed dialogue from the scene where he makes contact with Finn and Jake is "Kee-Oth Rama Pancake", the spell from “Dad's Dungeon” for banishing demons.

69. That appears to be President Porpoise with all of Tree Trunks’ other lovers.

70. In this scene, Life is humming part of "Lonely Bones", the song which Death tried to record for her in her debut short "The Gift That Reaps Giving". It's hard to notice because it's so brief.

71. Finn and Jake's cover is blown while in the Land of the Dead because Jake loudly farts, which also happened in "Death in Bloom".

72. The place where Mr. Fox explains the perception mechanics of the afterlife is the exact same location as the River of Forgetfulness from "Death in Bloom", which, as it turns out, was imaginary.

These are sort of out of order at the end because I was adding stuff to the Twitter thread as it got discovered. That’s all for now!

#adventure time #together again #finn the human #jake the dog #lorepost

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olderjustneverwiser · 3 years ago

Text

Draw Your Moon to Me (Fred Weasley)

A collection of short stories about time with Fred, heavily influenced by Foxing's latest album Draw Down the Moon, which is an album that everyone should listen to. Lyrics from each song are in italics at the beginning of each part.

Word count: 9.6K (will also be posted on my Ao3 to read in chapters)

Warnings: Fred does The Big Sleep, slight canon divergence, like one scene with an allusion to sex, friends-to-lovers, tooth-rotting fluff, pining, ANGST, so much angst, death, one scene of talk of marriage and kids, writing that gets better after the prologue, lyrics from the album sprinkled in randomly

Most of these images were found on pinterest and they are not mine!

Prologue- 737

The love never believed The dead who never speak The spells we're whispering Draw your moon to me

Two things have been constants since the dawn of man: love and loss.

Love is what created the world. Love is what kept the human race alive since the beginning and made our short time on this planet worthwhile. To live without love is to not live at all, and you saw proof of this every day in the way mothers would happily die for their children and young lovers still chose to be wed even in the middle of a war. You felt it in the way he made you feel weightless and loved when the world got too heavy.

While almost everyone loved, it was an indisputable fact that everyone who ever existed will die. Many have tried to fool death; to either hide from death or gloat some false attempt at immortality right in front of its horrid face, but it was fruitless. We all become dust eventually; nothing more than an empty shell and a memory for those we leave behind. No one can stop death forever, no matter how badly we may want to.

Love and loss have been the only constants in the world since the dawn of man.

You just never would have imagined you would experience both of these for the same person. At least, not so soon.

One- Go Down Together

You and I We'll go down there together Side by side And if you should fall I'll follow behind We'll go down there together

Your lungs burned as you ran, turning down yet another corridor in the vast castle. You willed your legs to carry you quicker while an identical set of redheads ran past you, wide grins adorning both of their faces.

"Having trouble keeping up with us, love?" Fred asked.

"Yeah, I think we may have to leave you behind next time," George continued without missing a beat. "Can't have you slowing us down."

"Oh, come off it," you snapped, "It's not my fault your legs are stupidly long."

The portrait of the fat lady was finally in sight and you breathed a sigh of relief, knowing your destination was close. Fred yelled the password and she slowly opened the portrait hole; scolding him for being so loud at this time of night while doing so. The three of you piled into the common room and finally allowed yourselves to laugh freely now that the prank was over and you were in the common room.

You were safe.

George threw himself down on a worn armchair, finally able to relax since the chances of getting caught now were slim to none. "Ah, I wish I could see the look on old Filch's face right about now. I'll bet he's furious."

"When is he not furious," you joked, taking your seat next to Fred on the sofa. "I'm just glad we made it back."

Fred couldn't help the scoff that left him at your comment, "Oh come on, the possibility of getting caught is half the fun!" He said, ruffling your hair before pulling you closer to him; his arm wrapped around your shoulders.

George raised an eyebrow at his brother's sudden display of affection, causing a blush to blossom on your cheeks. George had figured out your feelings for his twin last year, being the intuitive guy that he is, and to your surprise he never made fun of your feelings (although, he never missed the chance to send some smart comment your way when his brother did anything affectionate). He also never made it super obvious to Fred, and for that you were grateful. You wanted to keep your feelings to yourself for a little longer, if you could help it.

"I think we should try and hit Mad-Eye next," Fred exclaimed, "He's sure to give us a run for our galleons."

"Mad-Eye?" You asked incredulously, horrified at the thought of possibly getting caught by him.

"Yeah! We haven't hit a Dark Arts professor since we got Lockhart in fourth year."

"But he's scary!" You knew you must have sounded like a child, but you couldn't help it. He was scary and his bionic eye freaked you out.

"You know," George looked directly at you, a knowing glint in his eye, "You're always so nervous to join in on our fun. I wonder if there's another reason you're so keen to be friends with us." He wore the faintest hint of a smirk as he finished his statement, and you had half a mind to wipe it right off.

"You're right, George. I have no idea why I agree to be seen with you idiots, either." You replied as nonchalantly as you could, silently pleading with him to give it up.

George barked out a laugh and threw his hands up in defeat at your words, agreeing to drop the subject, "Fine, fine. You win."

Fred wasn't ready to let his comment go, though. "Georgie has a point, you know. You're not really a big prankster like us."

"You're my best friend, Fred. Doesn't it come with the territory?"

George feigned offense at your words, "What am I, just some bloke that hangs around?"

"You know you're both my best friends."

"Just indulge us. Why do you do it?" Fred asked.

You paused, carefully choosing your words before speaking, "It's the rush of possibly getting caught. You and George; you do it for attention, or to cause mayhem, or just to test what you two are capable of. When I first got roped into one of your practical jokes back in first year, I liked it for the same reasons, but now I like the rush it gives. The run back to safety, or watching from behind the nearest corner and hoping you're not seen. It's like being on a roller coaster; you're terrified during all of the swoops and drops, but you're breathless near the end and excited to do it again. It's exhilarating." You don't tell him that it's fun or exhilarating because of him, or the fact that he makes you feel alive when life gets you down; you're keeping that close to the chest for now. "Besides, we're in it together for the long haul, aren't we? If you go down, then we'll go down together."

You pointedly ignored the shit-eating grin on George's face. He could really just sod off.

Your reasoning seemed to be enough for Fred however, if his smile was any indication. "We'll go down together," he repeated, pulling you closer to him, "I like that."

Two- Beacons

I'm running with you now, we're a stampede, tell me Everything I know about love Now it's thicker than my blood I thought I couldn't move my feet, but I'm Running with you now, we're a stampede

School was out for summer, Fred's two favorite people were with him, and he was feeling good.

Not to mention the fact that he and George were officially adults as of April 1st, and they could quite literally do anything they wanted with their lives thanks to the prize money Harry had given them. Fred had decided that absolutely nothing was going to ruin his good mood today; not even the horrible news that the Dark Lord was back. It may have been selfish of him since he knew the whole situation was quite awful, but it was the first full day of summer, the family was finally able to celebrate their 17th birthdays, and you were leaving to go home in the morning.

Despair and dread would just have to wait a little longer.

It had been a perfect day of swimming in the lake behind the house and playing quidditch, followed by a huge birthday dinner cooked by his mum, complete with cake and a few presents as well. His parents got him and George matching watches, as it was customary to give a watch to a young wizard turning seventeen. Bill and Charlie gave them each a Gringotts bank note, knowing that they'd much rather have money for their shop than anything else. You had given them their gift on their actual birthday at Hogwarts; a lovely trunk with Weasley & Weasley stamped proudly on the front of it, ("For your wheezes," you'd said, "just don't tell your mum I said that.")

Since the party was over and everyone was too exhausted from the day to do much of anything else, Fred and George ended up wandering to the backyard, making plans for their shop and eventually, talking about you.

"Have you noticed a change in her?" Fred asked his brother. When he noticed the confused look on George's face he elaborated, "I mean, she's still her, but since the ball she seems a little different."

"I wondered when you'd finally realize it, mate." George said with a smile.

"What? Did she say something to you that night?"

"She says it all the time, you just don't know how to listen."

"Oi, stop with the bloody riddles."

"I really have to spell it out for you, don't I?" George sighed. "You didn't hear this from me, but I think she was a little upset that you went with Angelina."

"But why? She likes Angelina."

"Yeah, but do you?"

Fred didn't even have to think about his answer because no, he didn't like Angelina; not even close to the way he liked you.

"Ah! Speak of the devil." Fred looked up from the blades of grass he had been playing with and saw you, standing over them with a concerned look on your face and a small box behind your back.

"What are you two planning?" You asked.

"Nothing, my dear," said George, brushing grass off of his trousers as he stood, "but I think this is where I leave the two of you." With a subtle wink thrown in Fred's direction, he was off, leaving you and Fred alone under the stars.

"Should I be worried for my own well being?" You asked, taking George's spot against the tree Fred was leaning on.

He shook his head, "Not at all, love. Just discussing business plans."

You weren't convinced, but you let it go for now, placing the black box in Fred's hand. "Well, I have something for you."

"But you already gave us our gift."

"Yes, but I wanted to give the two of you something else," you explained, "It's really for you both, but since George ran off, I reckon you can give him his later."

Fred was intrigued, and he opened the box to reveal two silk ties, one deep purple with little orange designs all around it and the other the exact contrast; bright orange with purple details lining it. It was one of the nicest things anyone had ever given him, and the fact that it came from you made it all the more special.

"Obviously, there's one for each of you," you said as Fred ran his fingers along the soft fabric, "I thought when you finally open your shop, you can wear these on opening day. If you like them, of course. If not I can just bring-"

Fred stopped your rambling with a bone crushing hug, which you reciprocated after a moment. You seemed to soften into him instantly; your nerves seemingly calmed.

"I love them," He mumbled into your hair, truly meaning it. For a moment, he was amazed at how lucky he was to have you in his life. He thought of how he loved you, and if you could ever possibly feel the same as he did. His mind wandered to the conversation he had with his twin minutes ago about you not liking his choice of date for the stupid ball, and something clicked.

Fred pulled away from you suddenly, his hands still on your shoulders as he searched your face for any indication of your feelings. You seemed to shine even in the vast darkness of the country night, and Fred briefly thought of some metaphor for a light in dark times. He swore he saw a pleading look in your eye, but he lost his nerve; a rare moment for Fred Weasley. It had been a perfect day, and he wouldn't ruin it by confessing one-sided feelings.

Those would just have to wait, too.

"Really, thank you. Although now I suppose I have to get you a second gift too, don't I?"

"I'd expect nothing less," you teased, nudging his shoulder before leaning into him, and while you both traced constellations in the night sky, Fred thought this was a perfect ending to a perfect day with you.

Three- Draw Down the Moon

I want to draw down the moon For nothing but to deserve you Oh, but I want to show you, I I can keep it all together

You couldn't sleep.

While you normally slept soundly on your first night back at Hogwarts; being too exhausted by the journey to do anything other than sleep; this bed squeaked, Alicia was snoring, and you just couldn't turn your brain off.

You were thinking of Fred, of course.

He had been...different since you arrived at 12 Grimmauld Place a week before. At first you chalked it up to being in a strange place; you usually joined the Wesley's at the Burrow the week before term started, so you figured he was adjusting to life in a different setting. It could be the impending war that was making him act differently, or maybe it was the fact that he and George had turned 17 a few months prior, and now that they were officially adults, Fred felt that he didn't need to go back to school.

Alicia made her opinions clear to you at the welcoming feast, but you quickly waved them off. As much as you wanted her to be right, you couldn't let your heart accept the possibility that Fred may harbor the same feelings for you that you've had for him for so long. It would hurt too much when you'd inevitably find out that all he would ever view you as was his closest friend.

Finally having enough of this squeaky bed after one too many turns, you decided to go into the common room, making a mental note to find a book on household charms in the library the next day. You tiptoed out of the shared room and down the stairs to your favorite seat in the common room. It was a big chaise lounge with lots of pillows and since it was right up against the large window, it allowed you a perfect view of the moon on clear nights.

Once you were finally comfortable, you allowed your mind to wander yet again. That is, until a voice interrupted your thoughts.

"Couldn't sleep either I reckon?"

You couldn't help the frightened shriek that left you at Fred's sudden greeting, causing a wide smile to stretch on his face. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, sneaking up on me like that?"

"What, you thought I was You-Know-Who coming to get you?" He joked, "Mind if I sit with you?"

Once your breathing returned to normal, you nodded, shifting so he could sit behind you with his back against the chaise; his arms around you and your back pressed against his chest. Alicia's words rang in your ear, her insistence of 'Everyone knows he fancies you. Everyone but you, of course,' but still, you buried them. This was not the first time you and Fred had cuddled, and you knew it wouldn't be the last. This was normal.

Perfectly normal for...just friends to do. Right?

"So why couldn't you sleep?" His voice once again broke you out of your reverie, and you searched your brain for a suitable response.

"My new bed is loud, I didn't wanna wake the girls up. I'll need to find time to look up a spell to fix it tomorrow." He muttered what sounded like an incantation in your ear in response. You turned to look at him, "What was that?"

"The charm to fix anything squeaky, obviously."

You stared at him, "Do I even want to know how you know that spell?"

Fred shook his head, "Don't be a prat, it's nothing like that."

"Sure," you answered, hating the pang of jealousy you felt, even though his response should have comforted you. "Your turn, Freddie. What's keeping you up on this lovely evening?"

He took a beat before answering, "Remember when we threw snowballs at Quirrel in our third year, not knowing we were actually hitting Voldy in the face?"

You chuckled, happy to be away from the conversation of squeaky beds, "I don't think that'll ever stop being funny."

"No, I don't believe it will."

You were quiet for a moment, "Remember when you nearly gave me a heart attack by trying to put your name in the goblet last year?"

"Hey! Georgie and I would've done okay if we could have made it in."

"You would have died if you would have been in that cemetery with Harry, what would I have done then?"

That quickly shut him up, leaving both of you in somewhat of an awkward silence until he spoke up again. "Remember when you went to the ball with George last year?"

Well, this was not where you expected this to go.

You turned to face him again to find he was already looking at you, "Only because you went with Angelina," you answered slowly.

Fred nodded, "Yeah, sorry 'bout that." His voice was quiet now, "I didn't think that one through."

"Why does this matter now, Freddie?"

"You know, everyone thinks my brother and I are fearless, but that's not true," you raised your eyebrow at this seemingly random statement, but he went on. "I thought I was, but it just took me a while to find out what I'm afraid of."

"Fred, what are you-"

"I wanted to ask you to go to the ball, only I didn't know how you felt about me, so I kept my distance and tried to stop how I felt. But what I've realized is that I'm never gonna stop loving you. If I could, I would have done it by now. I thought I was scared of screwing this up, but what I was really scared of is losing you," he took a breath, "I love you, so I'm facing my fear and telling you because I think you love me too."

Fred waited with bated breath for you to say something, but your brain seemed to have short circuited around the 'I'm never gonna stop loving you' part. Thankfully seeing his hopeful expression falter after a few moments snapped you out of your trance, "I swear if this is some sick joke I will never speak to you again, Fred Weasley."

Fred's face fell even more; affronted by the fact that you thought he would ever joke about this. Instead of replying, Fred placed a careful hand on your cheek and brought his lips to yours, and you felt like you had been submerged in water and now were finally breathing fresh air again. It was a strange mix of refreshed and utterly over the moon, and it was a feeling you'd never tire of.

He pulled away after a moment, and you realized you hadn't given him an answer yet. With a smile and a flutter in your chest, you whispered "I'm never gonna stop loving you either, Freddie."

Four- Where The Lightning Strikes Twice

When cartilage leaves our knees and Sky refuses to weep well I will stand ancient with you And if I'm too high to speak but Too drunk to shut up Let me take my time, let me find my words

Hogwarts was truly an awful place to be this school year.

You never thought you'd string those words together, but life under Umbridge's thumb was quickly becoming too terrible to bear. With Dumbledore gone and Umbridge fully backed by the Ministry, it was a wonder anyone at Hogwarts had held on this long. The entire student body was miserable, and the more you noticed students with scarred hands, the angrier you got, and life at Hogwarts seemed to get more hopeless.

Apart from Harry, this school year seemed to be taking a toll on the twins more than anyone. They had been banned from Quidditch and just about every other activity they enjoyed, they were tied with Harry for the amounts of detentions they had received, and they weren't learning anything in their classes; too mentally exhausted to pay much attention in the classroom.

Not that they were planning on using the skills they learned in the classroom in their adult lives, anyway.

You knew they were opening the joke shop right after graduation. To peers in the hallways and friends in DA lessons, the toys and treats Fred and George carried in their trunk were just welcomed distractions from the gloomy days at Hogwarts. You knew what they really were, though. You knew they were testing their products; seeing what would sell and what wouldn't, taking note of any side effects their candies may have. The twins were intelligent, more so than most gave them credit for, and they were planning something big.

You were happy for them, of course. Opening their very own store was their dream, and you wanted them to be happy more than anything else, but you also wondered when exactly they'd put their plan into action. They had been dropping little hints for weeks now, saying things like "If we wait until graduation" and things of the sort. While you wanted them to do what was right for them, you couldn't bear the thought of them leaving before the end of term. You had no idea how you'd survive these last few months alone at Hogwarts.

It had been a quiet day in the castle. No new decrees had been implemented, and Umbridge was overseeing the fifth years taking their OWLs in the Great Hall. The common room was quiet until Fred and George came rushing down the stairs from their dorm room each with a duffle bag slung over their shoulders and two brooms in George's hands.

And you felt your heart drop at the realization that this was it.

"There you are!" Fred shouted, noticing you by the window. He shot a look to his brother, and George mentioned something about waiting outside before leaving through the portrait hole.

Fred took a seat by you and grabbed your hand, although he could barely sit still in his apparent excitement. It was a sharp contrast to how you felt in the moment.

"Today's the day, innit?" Your voice quivered, though you already knew the answer.

He nodded eagerly, "It is, my love! We decided late last night. Everything's ready, the storefront is ours, and we can't take that pink toad anymore. This is it, our grand exit! It's going to be bloody brilliant, just you wait. I can't wait to see her face! Hogwarts will never see anything like this again!" He was too excited to stop his rambling, and in your heart you knew this was the right thing. Seeing the passion in his eyes made you feel a little better, but the fact that he was leaving you still stung.

"So I guess this is it for a while, huh?" You asked through a forced smile. "Promise you'll write, at least."

If possible, Fred's smile grew even more, "Ah, on the contrary. We want you to come with us today."

Uh, what?

Before waiting for you to answer, he continued on, "Come on, you didn't think I'd leave you here, did you? It'll be great; you can run the shop with us; work on the books or help with new product ideas!"

Your mind was racing; you never expected this to ever even be a possibility. Yet here it was; a chance to leave Hogwarts and Umbridge forever. A chance to drop out of school with only six weeks of term left. You couldn't even think about how angry your parents would be.

"Freddie," you started, "this is all very sudden."

"I know, and I'm so sorry, love. We planned on staying until graduation, really, but it's time. I won't blame you if you don't come with us, and of course I'll write to you constantly if you choose to stay. I just didn't think you'd want to and I don't want you to, either."

After many moments of silent deliberation you came to your decision. It was really the only choice, but it still hurt your heart to say, "Fred, I can't." The joyous look on his face fell, just a little, and it made you feel even worse. "I want to go with you so badly, and I'll miss you both so much, but it's only a few weeks. I'll graduate, and then I'll be right there to help with the shop."

Fred nodded, heaving out a sigh before speaking, "Well, I can't say that I'm not surprised or a little sad, but I respect your decision. Just know that I will be here on graduation day ready to take you to the flat Georgie and I are getting above the shop."

"I can't wait," you said, "I'll be there until you don't want me anymore."

"Well then I guess you'll be by my side until we're ancient." He punctuated his statement with a searing kiss, one meant to get you both through the coming weeks. "At least come to see us off?"

After you met George outside of the common room, the three of you ran to the Great Hall, and your best friends began their grand exit. Parchment whirled all over, purple and pink fireworks bursted all around you, and Fred swooped down on his broom to give you a final kiss, just to piss Umbridge off even more. You watched the boys fly off into the sky, and though you were hurting, you knew this was the right thing for them, and you'd be with Fred again soon enough. This time for good.

Five- Bialystok

Sacred insignificance Steeped in cosmic bliss I'm dragging myself back home But I'm homesick everywhere I go Oh, without you

Today was the first day Fred hadn't thought about the upcoming war in months.

It almost felt selfish to not think about it since people were disappearing every day, but Fred's mind just couldn't seem to go there after the day he was having.

After a busy morning at the shop with Hogwarts students stocking up goodies during the Christmas holiday, he left at around a quarter to one, taking the steps two at a time until he reached the flat above their joke shop, where you were waiting for him with a smile and a hot cup of tea.

Really, how could he think of all of the despair in the world when he got to come to this? This cozy, beautiful life the two of you were building together meant everything to him, and he was more than thankful to be able to walk home to you every day, knowing that he was one of the lucky ones. Not everyone gets to go home in times like these.

The two of you had decided to take it easy; just lay on the couch watching the muggle television you had insisted on buying when the three of you first moved in. It really hadn't taken much convincing for either Fred or George, and you quickly made it a focal point in your living room for movie nights. (Fred also couldn't deny that he absolutely loved seeing his father's face light up at the sight of it each time he visited, ‘Oh, what geniuses those Muggles are,' he'd exclaim, 'They even call them 'move'-ies, what fun!')

In the spirit of relaxation and taking it easy the two of you quickly changed into comfortable clothes and laid on the couch, your head on Fred's chest, not doing much of anything at all but watching some cheesy Christmas movie you had found.

The movie had ended, so you shifted your gaze from the television to Fred's face, resting your chin on the backs of your hands. Fred tightened his arm around you, using his other hand to flick a few stray pieces of hair that had fallen in your face and he felt...peace.

Because you weren't just his girlfriend, or his best friend; you were his home. The reason to wake up, to walk on, and to fight. He'd draw down the moon for you if he had to; just to prove his love to you.

"Whatcha thinking about, Freddie?" You asked, noting the pensive look on his handsome face.

"Just you, and us."

"Us?" Your curiosity was piqued and your cheeks turned the lightest shade of pink.

Adorable, he thought.

"Yeah, y'know, just this. Watching television next to you, dancing to your muggle music in the kitchen. It's nice, innit? Seemingly insignificant to an outsider, perhaps, but these little moments of bliss mean everything to me." He knew he was being a sap, but seeing the way his words made you smile made him not mind it one bit. "I feel homesick everywhere I go without you."

The blush on your cheeks deepened even more, "Well then I guess it's my job to always make sure you feel at home."

"You already do, love. I'm gonna marry you, y'know." It was an open secret between the two of you and everyone else you knew that you were destined for each other. Although you were young, just halfway to nineteen, it was obvious to anyone that spent more than ten minutes around the both of you. Still, the mention of this must have excited you, because you swung a leg over his body and moved to straddle his waist, pressing a quick kiss to his nose.

"I don't suppose I'll know when this proposal is coming, do I?"

"Of course not, it has to be a complete surprise."

"Just no grand, public gestures."

"Only the grandest for you, my love. Fireworks in the sky, dancers in the streets of Diagon, the whole nine!"

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself "Okay, but we'll need a house of our own after this spectacle. Any thoughts?"

Fred's answer was on the tip of his tongue, "A home on the outskirts of the city, with a big yard and lots of space for my experiments."

"And a big kitchen with a big table for when your family comes to visit."

Fred hummed in agreement, "And enough rooms for a few little troublemakers of our own, hmm?"

You pretended to think about this for a moment, “I don't know if I can handle any more Fred Weasleys in the world."

"Oh, shut it," he muttered, pressing a firm kiss to your lips, moving to a sitting position in the process; your legs still on either side of his as his hands began to inch your shirt over your head.

"A little eager, are we?" You asked, laughter in your voice as his fingers tickled your sides.

"What can I say; I guess this talk about kids got me excited and Georgie is out for a few more hours. Plus, I wanna practice."

Six- At Least We Found The Floor

"Well honey, at least you found the floor It can't get much worse than this" "Hey honey, this isn't the floor yet It's gonna get much worse than this"

Muggles had this saying; a turn of phrase that never really made sense to you:

Never say that things can't get worse, because they always will if you do.

You thought it was a load of bollocks. No one person was able to change what was going to happen just by speaking those words; Fate's mind was already made up. You rathered a different muggle phrase: If it's meant to happen, it will.

Things were getting worse each day in the wizarding world. It seemed like Dumbledore's death had been a catalyst; a way to open the floodgates and allow You-Know-Who to increase his numbers and put more of his master plan into action. Then there were more disappearances and murders, and of course the awful flight to get Harry which resulted in George losing a damn ear and Mad-Eye losing his life.

The wedding got ambushed, then Harry, Ron, and Hermione went missing, and since that night it's seemed like everything got even worse.

Fred was halfway out of his mind at this point. He had a tendency to fully immerse himself in anything he truly cared about, which could be both a blessing and a curse at times. It's what made him so gifted at charms and a successful business owner, but at times he'd make himself sick working ridiculous hours and forget to eat. Oftentimes when the shop first opened you'd wake up at one or two in the morning to find him at the dining table designing products or obsessing over the numbers. If he cared about a cause, he'd throw himself into it completely. Lately, it was The Order and Potterwatch. While you admired his dedication, you were starting to worry about his mental wellbeing.

Not even the Christmas season had raised the spirits of the Wesleys. With Ginny at school, Percy still being a prat, and Ron wherever he was, the family didn't think a get together was even worth it.

Despite the gloom this season, today was Boxing Day and Fred, George, and yourself had decided to visit Bill and Fleur. What you weren't expecting is for Ron to be there as well, looking even more scruffy than normal. The six of you spent the evening drinking and making plans for the war while listening to Ron talk about what they had been doing for the months they'd been gone. As you listened, you could tell that Ron held a lot back; not wanting to tell the full truth of what they were doing. You also noticed Fred getting more fidgety as his story went on.

After quite a few butterbeers and one too many yelling matches between Ron and Bill about Ron's recklessness, Ron, George, Bill and Fleur had gone up to bed, leaving you and Fred alone on the pull out sofa in the sitting room. He had been quiet, picking at his nails and staring at nothing.

"Knut for your thoughts?"

Your question seemed to snap Fred from his thoughts. "Just can't believe what Ron was saying earlier, 'bout them going hunting. We all knew they were doing something for the cause, but I didn't think they'd be daft enough to actually go hunting You-Know-Who."

"They're smart and Harry knows what he's doing, they'll be okay," you reasoned, only half heartedly believing what you were saying.

Fred rubbed his face furiously, keeping whatever tears may come at bay. "Everything is just so messed up. My little brother has been gallivanting all over England looking for evil incarnate, Ginny is probably being tortured over at school, and the world is going to shite and it's only getting worse."

You wished you could offer him any kind of comfort, but you knew this side of Fred. It was one that probably only you and George saw; one where the Fred everyone loved was overshadowed by one full of fear, dread, and pessimism. The only thing you could do to try to quell his nerves is hold his hand to let him know you were still here for him. You knew the demon in his ear wouldn't accept any words of comfort you'd think of, so the two of you sat on the couch in silence with his hand in yours.

"I want you to stay here for a while, please." He said suddenly.

"Excuse me?"

"Please," he repeated, "It's getting worse; I've got this feeling in the pit of my stomach that's telling me something bad is happening soon. Not a lot of people know about this place; you should stay here, help Bill and Fleur with the Order. You'll be safer."

"And what about you, Fred?" You nearly shouted, aware of the others sleeping upstairs but not really caring at this moment. The silence that followed told you everything you needed to know. "You're seriously leaving me here?"

"Only for a little while. I'll come visit as often as I can, of course, but this place is safer than the city. Just until this is all over. After we win and it's safe, I swear we'll be together, if you'll have me. I'll spend my life making this up to you." A tear escaped him, then another, until they flowed freely down his face and you knew he wasn't only crying for you, but also for his family and the terrible truth that the good side might not win this war. Soon you allowed yourself to cry with him; sharing last kisses and drying your tears until the two of you finally found sleep.

You were cold when you woke the next morning; Fred's side of the bed showed no signs that anyone had been there only a few hours before. You were alone, and you couldn't help but wonder if things could get any worse.

Seven- Cold Blooded

I wish that I could get out of my head but I'm back in it again It feels the same at least

You truly believed that you had run out of tears to cry.

The last few years had been trying for everyone in the Wizarding World, and although you knew that other people had far more important problems than you, you were sick of the sadness that surrounded you. You had cried for Cedric, for Sirius, Dumbledore, Mad Eye, and the countless muggleborns that were being hunted down everyday. You missed the childlike wonder you experienced during your time at Hogwarts, and you desperately tried to hold on to the hope that your side would win this war. For the first few months after Christmas, you also cried for you and Fred.

That was one of the only things keeping you going, really. Fred's promise rang in your head every day, 'After we win and it's safe, I swear we'll be together, if you'll have me. I'll spend my life making this up to you.' Part of you couldn't really blame him for what he did. He was only doing what he felt in his heart was the right thing to do, and it's not like he broke up with you or said he no longer loved you, so it could have been worse.

Part of you was also still incredibly pissed off at him, however.

What did he think he was doing, leaving you like this? Loathe as you were to admit it, you needed him. Especially now when the world was darker than ever, you needed the light he brought into your life. So yeah, you were pissed. Pissed off at the world, the war, and at Fred for leaving you alone, flailing in the dust with hot, angry tears falling from your eyes the first few nights at Shell Cottage.

Fred had only visited Shell Cottage a handful of times since Boxing Day. While he was with you, your worries would subside and your heart felt a little lighter, but then he'd leave with a kiss and a heartfelt 'I love you' and your world would get darker again.

By the time May came around, you were sick of it all. Sick of the worry and grief and hearing Fred's voice on Potterwatch more than you saw him in person. You were also sick of living on this bloody beach, so when the three of you got the call that Harry had shown up at Hogwarts to fight, you were the first to grab your wand and apparate to the Hog's Head.

After crawling through the tunnel connecting the bar to Hogwarts, you were met with members of the Order and dozens of students gathered in what looked like the Room of Requirement. You scanned the room for anyone with red hair, finding Arthur, Ron, Ginny, and finally Fred.

You were running before you even realized; it had been at least two months since he had visited Shell Cottage and missed him more than you thought you could miss one person. He turned as you neared him, and you ran right into his open arms.

"Hello, love," Fred said, placing a quick kiss on your hair.

You pulled away as Kingsley addressed the room, but Fred kept one arm around your shoulders. It was one of the things you missed most; the comfort he could bring you with just a touch.

While the Order made their plans for the battle, Fred volunteered the three of you to guard the entrances to the school. You noticed a fire in his eyes as he spoke, and it seemed like the adrenaline of the fight and finally being together again sparked something in Fred. He was no longer the Fred that left you on Boxing Day, the daring, determined, "anything is possible" Fred Weasley was back.

Teachers, Order members, and students disbursed all around you, and you knew it was time. George threw the two of you a wink before running off towards the entrances, yelling something about seeing you both later. Fred's arm left your shoulder but his hands quickly found yours, "Are you ready?"

You nodded, and Fred pressed one final kiss to your lips. It was soft and warm and over far too soon, and you tried to take in everything about the moment that you could. How his hands gently squeezed yours, the way a simple kiss made you feel like you were flying. The two of you stayed like that, foreheads touching, sharing a silent prayer and a brief moment of peace before you joined George for the fight.

Fred pulled away first, and you knew it was time. You both took a breath and ran off, hand in hand, into the chaos that awaited.

Eight- If I Believed In Love

Every time I run wild from the hint at heaven Oh now, what do you believe in? Every day I spent pent up in a blind I wonder Oh now, what do you believe in?

As a child, you truly believed that love was the key to everything. The books your mother read to you as a youngster fueled that belief, all with a princess in need of saving and a dashing knight who would do anything to help her. They made you believe that a life without love had to be bleak and miserable.

You grew up, and you knew that your parents loved you. You saw evidence of their love every day, even if they didn't say it. Then you met the twins, then Mrs. Weasley, and you saw the epitome of motherly love in her. Her love towards her children, and even her 'adopted' children, was unyielding and true, and it comforted you to see such love in one person.

You knew you loved Fred at a young age, but it was the same way you loved George, and Ron, and Ginny and Charlie. Before long, however, you realized that you were in love with him. It terrified and exhilarated you at the same time, not knowing if he would share in your love. Then he kissed you and told you that yes, he loved you too, and you swore you would never feel that feeling with anyone else.

But, if war was good for anything, it shook one's belief in goodness, kindness, and most importantly, love.

The Order had arrived at the castle just a few hours ago, but it felt like you had been fighting for days. The air around you reeked of blood and smoke and death, and the battle showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. Love wasn't going to save you now; your silly childhood belief that love would conquer all had no place here. Only fighting for that love was going to help you.

George, Fred, and yourself were near the school's main entrance, doing all you could to fend off the enemy. After shooting a hex at a masked Death Eater, you turned to your left and assisted George with two assailants he was currently struggling against. Fred had run off around the corner minutes ago, undoubtedly following a Death Eater, but you didn't have time to think about him right now. All you could do was focus on the evil in front you.

Once the smaller of the two was petrified and the other thrown over the rampart, the high pitched, sickening voice of Voldemort permeated the air. It felt like it was in your brain, piercing it, and a quick look at George confirmed that he was in the same boat as you; covering his ears as a feeble attempt to alleviate the painful stabbing in his head. As his announcement ended you finally breathed, finding little room to relax once you realized you'd get a short respite from the fighting.

"You okay?" George asked you, scanning your face for any signs of pain or discomfort.

"Yeah, you?" With a brief nod of his head, you breathed a sigh of relief. "Good, let's go get Freddie."

But as the two of you turned the corner and saw Fred, motionless on the stone floor, the little relief you had felt moments ago left you.

You didn't want to believe it; couldn't believe it. The thought of Fred not being on this earth anymore was too awful to even consider. Anything was better than that; you hoped he was petrified or that this was just an awful prank gone too far. But somehow you knew, deep down, that this was not the case. You wanted to be sick; you wanted to scream until your throat was raw and the crushing pain you felt in your chest was overshadowed by anything else, but you couldn't. It seemed like some twisted nightmare that you desperately hoped to wake from, but the ache in your heart was far too vivid to be a dream.

Fred was dead.

You barely heard George's anguished scream as he ran to his brother's body and you fought to breathe. Your legs seemed to move on their own as you reached the pair of them; slowly kneeling before Fred. Deep, brown eyes, open but unseeing and his lips frozen into a smile. You weren't crying, you couldn't even breathe as you looked at Fred's face; too shocked to do anything but stare as a line of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

Your heart ached for George, and you knew you had to keep your composure for his sake. Using one hand to stroke Fred's cheek, you placed the other on George's arm and squeezed. "George," your voice was quiet and scratchy as you tried to catch a breath and swallow your tears down. "George, we have to go."

"No!" He wailed, clutching his brother's jacket even tighter, resting his forehead on Fred's chest as he cried.

"We have to bring his body back," you croaked after a few moments, "We have to carry him back. He deserves that."

George looked at you then, with shuddering breaths and heavy red-rimmed eyes. His body shook as he fought between the logic in your words and the pain he felt in his heart, but after a few minutes and more than a few tears, George nodded once and stood, preparing himself to carry his twin's body.

The walk back to the Great Hall was slow and quiet; the only sounds you paid attention to were the combined scrapes of your shoes on the ground and George's whimpers. You kept your gaze straight the whole walk, refusing to look down at Fred's face or think about anything other than getting to the Great Hall.

Your resolve was threatening to snap as you and George entered the Great Hall. You spotted the Weasley clan looking towards the doors; obviously waiting for their three missing sons. Mrs. Weasley was the first to see you, and you were able to pinpoint the exact second she realized that something was very wrong. The look on her face would haunt you for the rest of your life, but still you kept your gaze forward.

You watched as Ginny buried her head into Charlie's chest, and Bill wrapped a tight arm around his mother while Percy stood dumbfounded at what he was seeing. Finally you reached them and carefully laid Fred's body in front of them.

And that's when you broke, and the tears finally came as you dropped onto your knees. You cried for this family that would forever be broken, and for George who would live the rest of his life missing a piece of himself. You cried for Fred, gone way too soon from this world. For the time you lost and the final kiss you and Fred shared tonight. Finally, you cried for the life that you and Fred would never have now, and for the fact that you knew you would never find another love like the love he gave you.

A shaky set of warm arms wrapped around your shoulders, and part of you couldn't care less who it was, but then you heard the voice of the Weasley patriarch. "Fred would have made you my daughter-in-law one day, you know." His voice wavered at his son's name, but he was trying to stay strong for his family. "He's gone now, but he'll always be a part of us, you will always be a part of us, and we'll always love you."

He was genuine, but his words meant nothing to you. Fred was dead, and you thought to yourself that if this is what love felt like, then you didn't want it.

Nine- Speak With The Dead

In my dreams I'm on a porch with you I promise you I've been doing well in your name And I won't try to speak with you again Until I watch my last breath dissipate

It had been a little over one year since the Battle, and you were not okay.

Although, you suspected that no one really was. You knew that Harry still had nightmares of hearing Voldemort's voice in his head, and poor Andromeda was growing older by the day, and it was getting difficult for her to chase after one year old Teddy. George still refused to have mirrors in the flat above the joke shop the two of you still shared, and, well, you'd been dealing with Fred's death in your own way.

Since the Battle, you had been having dreams about him. They didn't come every night, but when they did they were glorious. Sometimes you would get to relive memories in these dreams; like late night love confessions or having snowball fights at Hogwarts. Other nights you got glimpses of what could have been. Once, you dreamed you and Fred were swinging on a big cypress swing on a back porch, watching identical little girls with unruly red hair chase each other. You knew it was incredibly unhealthy, but the nights where you could talk to Fred were the only things keeping you from going under. You told people you were fine and getting over it, but anyone who claimed that they were getting over the war was a damn liar. It infuriated you to hear about how 'great' everyone was doing these days.

So when you received the invitation via a proud looking tawny owl, you were initially furious.

Clean up at Hogwarts had only taken a few months thanks to the help of magic, and Headmistress Mcgonagall wasted no time in getting the students back in the classrooms the following September. Now, the beginning of June was quickly approaching, and seventh year students would be the first graduating class since Voldemort was defeated. Which caused for even more celebration, obviously.

You read over the auburn lettering once more as George walked into the flat, "Hogwarts School Invites Every Friend, Family Member, and War Veteran to Share in Celebration With Our First Graduating Class Since The Defeat on 12 June, and to Embrace the New, Better Wizarding World."

It made you want to be sick.

"Whatcha got there?" George asked, clearly recognizing the Hogwarts stationary. You read the letter to him and he scoffed, ripping the paper from your hands and swiftly lighting it on fire with his wand. "Bold of anyone to assume we'd ever want to go back to that place."

He'd stalked off to his room and slammed the door, and that was the last time either of you had discussed it. As days went by, and you remembered that two of those graduates were Ginny and Hermione, you begrudgingly decided to attend. George had adamantly refused, and you hadn't pressed. So on the bright morning of June 12th you apparated to the makeshift apparition spot in your nicest dress robes, a Draught of Peace in your pockets just in case.

You grew bored around the third hour of the party and needed to find somewhere to be alone, so you sneaked out of the hall and began to wander. You had found a secluded little hallway on the second floor, one that you couldn't remember finding during your time at Hogwarts. You were starting to calm down in the deserted hallway, but once you started making your way to the end, you heard a voice that made you stop.

"Peeves, it's graduation day, mate. School year's over. We have all summer to plan next year's pranks." The voice made your breath catch, and you had to lean into the wall to keep your balance. "Even a dead man has to take a rest, y'know." Fred's voice was getting louder, and soon you were met with the ghost of Fred, stuck at age twenty but still smiling all the same.

The two of you stood there, staring at each other for who knows how long, before it became too much and you crumbled; the wall the only thing keeping you standing as you sobbed.

All Fred could do was stand and watch, so that's exactly what he did. It was a while before he spoke, "You're here for the celebration, aren't you?"

You nodded, no doubt ruining your makeup as you desperately tried to dry your tears. "Why are you here?" You asked.

"Ah, I won't be here forever. I couldn't leave without George. I figured I'd stay here, raise hell for a while, then George and I could go to that unknown place together, not that I want that time to come anytime soon," he suddenly turned serious. "How is he, by the way?"

"Do you have to ask? He's bloody miserable without you, we all are."

"Even you?"

You turned back to look at him, "Fred, I don't think I'll ever not be miserable without you." Tears burned your eyes again and you let them fall, this whole day had you too mentally exhausted to fight them.

Standing next to you, Fred ached to touch you, offering any comfort he could, but he knew it was fruitless. While he'd be able to feel your skin, you wouldn't be able to feel anything, and that was bound to upset you even more. So he stood, watching and hoping you'd calm down soon.

"Will you do me a favor, love?" He asked quietly once your breathing had leveled out. "Please, try to be happy without me. I know it'll be difficult but you have to try."

He had a teasing inflection in his voice and you rolled your eyes, although it made the corners of your mouth turn up ever so slightly "This is not the time to make a joke-"

"It's always the right time to make a joke, especially if it makes you smile. But in all seriousness, I can't be the one to make you happy anymore, so you need to find someone who will."

You knew he was right; you'd known it for a while. Still, it hurt to face that reality. A life without hearing Fred's laugh, or seeing his smile light up the room, was not a life you wanted to have. You knew you had to, though, and somehow that hurt even more.

"I can't promise that you won't visit me in dreams, or that I won't cry when I see a picture of us together. But, I can promise that I will try to find happiness and love again."

"Good, because I don't want you to live a lonely life." He continued, a mischievous smile suddenly gracing his grey features, "It would just kill me to learn that you've been unhappy, love."

You barely felt your jaw drop as his comment, but despite yourself, a chuckle bubbled up and left you. Then you couldn't stop laughing, and once Fred joined in you laughed even harder. When was the last time you laughed like this? With Fred, no doubt? It felt good to laugh, and you hadn't felt good in a long time.

But of course, all good things have to end, so your laughs subsided, and the gravity of the situation hit you once again.

You stopped after a while, wiped your cheeks yet again and met Fred's eyes, "I love you, Fred," you said, knowing it would be the last time you would say those words.

"I'll always love you too, of course. Don't forget it."

You nodded and whispered a goodbye, remembering that you weren't able to give him a proper one at the Battle. He smiled and turned away, floating down the dark corridor until he vanished into nothingness.

You didn't go back to the celebration, instead opting to roam the old hallways until you grew tired. You apparated back to the flat, into your bedroom, which you and Fred once shared, and thought of sitting by the fire with Fred at school, dancing in the kitchen, and the way he'd look at you like you were the only person in the world. After a few laughs and many tears shed, your heart felt lighter than it had since the day you all lost Fred.

After it all, you were okay.

#fred weasley #fred weasley fic #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter fic #fred and george #weasley #hp #fred weasley imagine

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august-ia · 8 months ago

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"Yeosang can't come," he said after a moment of silence from his side, clenching his teeth. "If Yeosang can't come then I don't really care who comes from my side," his mind was made up when it came to that- if he couldn't have his childhood best friend there as his best man like he'd imagined so many times, it felt wrong to invite anyone else. "You know he was betrothed to my brother?" he seemed lost in thought, staring at the roll of paper that had now been set aside. "When he went missing, that engagement was put on hold. I don't think Yeosang's parents want to resume that arrangement so he can't really be.. seen."

It was better that Yeosang wasn't going to be a part of his family, following the same rules he did. He'd pray for Ethirdil daily that his time with them would be easy. He had to flash the other a smile and it wasn't even forced, the elf knew how to reassure August enough to get him to smile. He wasn't alone. He really should lean on Ethirdil more, he could hardly believe he'd been so mad at him at first. Anything to cope, he supposed. The other was a good friend though and he should cherish that.

Foxes and elephants at a wedding. August couldn't help but to snort, already imagining the looks on his family's faces. It'd be worth it, he thought. And it would be memorable rather than the same mantra they tended to go through wedding after wedding in his family. He could hardly tell which memories belonged to whose wedding, that's how similar they were. "Foxes should be good," he flashed another smile, fleeting but still there. His nerves caused him to be calmer than he usually was now that he was done with the hysterics. "I'm sure your mom thought of your best. I'm sure my mother thought of my best too, to the best of her ability."

The last part had been unnecessary. He should pray for forgiveness from his ancestors today before bed. Looking up at the other when he pressed play on a song and pulled him up, August was willingly pulled, the song's intro a beautiful one already. It sounded happy. He liked that. Listening to the song while he was twirled, he decided to do the same in return, his features brightening up as he grinned widely. For a moment all his worries were erased and the only thing that existed in the universe was him and his friend, dancing to a pretty song.

"Which one of us will lead? Is it you because you're older?" he chuckled, only for that chuckle to fade as his eyes began to well up with tears. All of this was a little overwhelming to a young fairy like him. He pulled Ethirdil in, resting his head on the other's shoulder before his tears would spill, hoping nobody was looking as he slow danced the rest of the song even if the beat didn't exactly allow it. "Thank you. I like this one."

💍guestlists and hitlists { Ethirdust }

#p; guestlists and hitlists #ethirdil ia

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mermaidenisaacs · 4 years ago

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isaac is a soft warm husband pt. 2

isaac unwittingly becomes a househusband to his high-functioning workaholic wife. and he’s a little salty about it.

romance/humor

warnings: graphic sexual language

“You know, when this is over, we should really have angry sex.”

“Isaac,” I sighed. “You’re not listening to me.”

Isac reclined further back against the pillows on our bed and crossed his arms over his chest. “I am listening, honey. You’re upset. You’re upset because you think I’m trying to control you. Just because I said I wanted you to stop working so much, you think I’m trying to turn you into an obedient little housewife.”

“Stop saying ‘you think.’ It’s dismissive. I know these things to be facts.”

“Do you, love?” The corner of his mouth turned up in a subtle smirk. “I love it when you act like a little know-it-all. It’s such a turn on.”

“I-saac, stop flirting with me like we’re teenagers. I’m being serious. You knew when you married me that I wasn’t going to be a typical housewife for you. Now all of a sudden, you want me to stay home and stop working?”

Isaac shook his head. “That’s not what I meant, and I feel like you know that. Will you just come back to bed?”

It was a tempting offer. The covers were up to Isaac’s waist, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and normally I’d have zero reservations about climbing into bed with my husband, but he was trying to distract me and it was not going to work. Not this time.

“No,” I muttered, regretfully tearing my gaze from his sun-kissed chest and the light smattering of hair that covered the hard plane under his stomach, the treasure trail that led to happier places than this conversation. “I’m not getting back in bed until you apologize.”

I was standing at the foot of the mattress, my hands on my hips. I probably looked like a stern vice principal or something. I felt a little ridiculous but I had to hold my ground. This wasn’t about me. This was about feminism. This was about my right to live my life how I wanted. I was standing up for women everywhere. That’s what I told myself.

“What exactly do you want me to apologize for?” Isaac asked, too calmly for my liking. “Fine, I’m sorry for noticing that you're basically a workaholic. That you’re always tired and frustrated after you come home from work. Baby, all I did was suggest you should cut back on work, delegate some of your responsibilities to other people.”

I shook my head. “No, I can’t. I don’t want my boss to think I can’t handle all of it. He already makes sexist jokes about how I’m the first woman he’s ever promoted to my position. Besides, you said you wanted me to stay home, not work less.”

“That’s the same thing.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Okay, fine, it’s not. Is it so bad that I want to spend more time with my wife?”

“We spend time together...” I mumbled, sounding unconvincing even to myself.

Isaac laughed. “Oh yeah, I get to talk to you five minutes before bed because you pass out right when you get home from the office, which lately has been about 10 pm. Oh, and if I’m lucky I get to talk to you on the weekend in between your 15 minute breaks because you bring the office home with you.”

I groaned and paced to the other side of the room. “Well, what do you want me to do?! I’m sorry I care about my job!”

“I get that! I care about my job too, but at least I’m here. And you’re not. I feel like all I ever do is cook and clean and wait for you to get back, holding out some small hope that you might stay awake for just a minute longer so I can share maybe two words with you--that’s if you’re not too tired from crying into my shoulder because you had a bad day at work.”

“W-well,” I stammered, aimlessly grappling for another line of argument, “so, that’s what this is about? You’re tired of comforting me when I have bad days?”

“No, of course not--”

“So then, you’d rather I cook and clean, have the house spotless and dinner ready on the table when you get home from work?” Isaac didn’t say anything. A knowing grin spread across his face, accompanied by a playful twinkle in his eyes. He didn’t even have to say anything; at this point, his facial expressions were pissing me off. “Well? What the hell are you smiling about?”

“I’m not doing this with you anymore,” he said calmly. “I’m not engaging in this because we both know you instigate fights when you’re defensive. And you’re defensive because you know I’m right. You’re trying to spin this into a feminist issue, willfully ignoring my valid points. At this point, you’re just Fox News-ing soundbites to make me sound sexist.”

I snorted. “Fox News-ing soundbites? Really?”

“I thought I was talking to my wife, not Bill O’Reilly.”

“Wowww. You really just called me Bill O’Reilly to my face. Have fun sleeping on the couch tonight.”

Isaac chuckled.

I stared back, trying to appear unmoved, because it was at this moment that it occurred to me that I was kind of turned on. I was still angry, but now I was horny too. It was a biological response and completely out of my control. It was Isaac’s fault, the way he managed to keep a clear head and stay calm while calling out my bullshit. Not many people could do that.

It was why I married him. He could put me in my place. I needed that sometimes. Still, I didn’t like admitting I was wrong.

“You’re only hearing what you want to hear,” he continued. “You’re not listening to what I’m saying, so I’m not arguing with you anymore.”

“Fine, whatever. You’re the one who brought it up.” I threw my hands up in frustration and headed towards the bedroom door, stopping when he called out my name.

“Woah, slow down. Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he said.

I turned the knob and opened the door. “Um, I’m leaving? Since you don’t want to talk to me anymore?”

“This is true. I’m done talking, but you’re not going anywhere.” He tilted his head and looked me up and down. Five years married, I still hadn’t built up an immunity to The Look.

“Why’s that?” I challenged. My defenses were crumbling with each passing second, my skin burning each time his eyes raked over my body.

“Because darling, you’re really hot when you’re mad, and having it out with you always turns me on. And I know you’re turned on too, so why don’t we stop talking in circles, and fuck. Now.” A few moments passed and we stared each other down, both waiting for the other to make the next move. “Come on baby, I can almost taste you from over here. And you look so good standing over there in nothing but panties and my t-shirt. Please come get in this bed with me, Mrs. Lahey.”

Shit. He pulled out the last name card. He knew what that did to me.

“Dammit,” I muttered, and stormed angrily across our room. I crawled over the mattress to straddle him. I peeled off my t-shirt and his fingers wrapped around my throat, reeling me in for a kiss, gnashing together teeth and tongue.

“You really know how to get under my skin,” I murmured against his soft mouth, weaving my fingers through his hair to tug on his curls.

“That's exactly where I intend to be,” he said.

Isaac’s hands traveled up my thighs and cupped my ass. He roughly squeezed it, then swiftly smacked my ass. I yelped at the unexpected contact, then moaned as he rubbed the stinging area. He spread apart my cheeks and moved aside my underwear. Isaac slipped a finger into my folds and spread my wetness over my clit, circling the bundle of nerves slowly. Whiny little moans started tumbling from my lips. I was mewling and riding his hand.

“How about you ride my cock? Or are you still mad at me?” he mocked.

I rolled my eyes, removing the covers from his naked body and putting my fist around his shaft, holding it steady so I could spit on the tip. I spread the slick saliva all over his cock while he fucked my mouth with the fingers he just took out of my pussy. He knew I liked sucking on his fingers. They were long and elegant and pretty and I loved the way they reached the back of my throat.

I continued to stroke him, albeit needlessly. “Well, that didn't take long,” I observed out loud, staring at his very hard cock. “You must really like it when I'm mad. Do you just piss me off on purpose, honey?”

Isaac smirked. “Like you’re complaining. You like makeup sex as much as I do. So why don't you stop messing around,” Isaac continued, gently extracting my hand from his cock and lifting my hips so he was positioned at my entrance, “and take me where you really need me?”

I scoffed. “Me, need you? I think it’s the opposite way around.”

“Is that so?” He removed his hands from my body altogether, sat back, smirked, and crossed his arms over his chest. I stared back, unimpressed.

“Really.” I deadpanned. “You’re gonna stop now?”

Isaac shrugged. “It’s not like I need you.”

I glanced down. “Your raging boner suggests otherwise.”

“I can take care of that myself.”

“What, and pass this up? You like your hand more than my body?” Isaac remained unfazed, challenging me with one raised brow. “What was it you were saying earlier? Something about getting under my skin?” I wound my arms around his neck and kissed along his jawline. “Don’t you want to be inside me, baby?” Positioning myself on his thigh, I rode him the way I did the first time we fucked.

It was a while ago, but I still remembered our first time, the way Isaac’s mouth tasted like champagne and vanilla icing when I shoved him against his car, pulled him down by his tie, and kissed him.

“Remember the first time I rode you like this?” I asked. He grunted an affirmation. Isaac pressed his thumbs into my hip bones and guided my movements. His cocky pretense was gone, replaced by hazy lust. “It was right after Scott and Kira’s wedding. We fucked for the first time that night, and you made me come twice. In a fucking car.”

Isaac groaned. “You were incredible. I wanted you for so long and it finally happened.”

I let out a heady moan as my clit brushed against his leg in that perfect angle. “You felt so good inside me that night. I love the way you feel inside me, Isaac. Please, baby, I want you so bad, please fuck me...”

Isaac’s fingers weaved into my hair and he pulled me down to kiss me. “Are you fucking begging me?” In a flurry of movement, Isaac had me on my back, and positioned himself at my entrance. “This what you want?” He slid into me so fast and hard my eyes nearly rolled into the back of my head.

My back arched away from the mattress, and he wrapped his arm around my torso as he slammed into me relentlessly. “Fuck, how do you always feel so good?” He grunted into my shoulder. Suddenly, he stopped. A whiny little noise escaped my throat. “Turn over. Good girl, now stick your ass out.” He slapped my ass again, leaving it stinging and aching for more. “Higher, just like that. Wanna fuck you just like that...”

For the second time, Isaac entered me, sheathed hilt-deep in my pussy. Tthe new angle was making it hard to stay on my knees. He put his hand on my hip to hold me in place.

“Isaac, fuck,” I moaned, “I’m gonna come.”

He leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on my spine. “Good, me too,” he said.

Isaac snaked a hand around my hip and toyed with my clit. All the while he fucked me slow and deep, with his chest against my back, talking filth into my ear. My moans came out in silent mewls. Isaac’s pace was torturously slow.

“You hate it when I go slow like this, don’t you?” he muttered. “It’s too bad since I like taking my time with you.”

I could feel my orgasm bubbling up, so close to brimming over.

“Please, Isaac,” I moaned pathetically.

“Please, what?”

“Please let me come,” I whined.

“Shhh, baby, you’ll come soon enough. You’re just gonna have to be a little patient--oh, shit,” he said in response to me clenching around him. “Your pussy feels so fucking good, you’re so wet.” Isaac grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled, tugged sharply the way I liked it. “Is this what you wanted?” he muttered. He rubbed my clit in quick circles and rutted into me fast and deep. He came before me, and my walls milked out his orgasm before he sent me over the edge.

I dug my nails into Isaac’s shoulder as my body quivered. The jolts of pleasure continued for a good minute afterwards, and Isaac laid me on my side and cradled my body against him. He cupped my cheek and peppered soft little kisses all over my face.

“Shh, I got you,” he said softly.

When I finally came down from the high, in the clarity that followed, it occurred to me that I was no longer mad.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

“Don’t be. I told you angry sex would be good.”

I chuckled. “No, I mean that you were right. About all of it. I’ve been working too much. We barely see each other.”

He kissed my forehead. “S’alright. I just get worried about you. You’re so stressed out all the time. And I miss you.” Isaac moved his fingertips against my back, tracing lazy, comforting circles.

“I miss you too.” I snuggled deeper into his chest. “I’ll cut back on work. Wanna spend more time with you.”

“Is that right? You’re actually gonna listen to me?” He feigned shock.

I giggled and lightly punched his arm. “Shut up.” I pressed a contented kiss against his chest, right above his beating heart. “Love you,” I mumbled as I dozed off. Isaac’s fingers combed gently through my hair, lulling me into slumber.

“Love you more.”

fin.

#isaac lahey #isaac lahey imagine #daniel sharman #daniel sharman imagine #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski imagine #dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien imagine #isaac lahey smut #dylan o'brien smut #daniel sharman smut

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scintillasofbeomgyu · 4 years ago

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-ˏˋ⋆ ̥ 𝗳𝗼𝘅'𝘀 𝗵𝗶𝗿𝗮𝗲𝘁𝗵 – part one: the beginning (cyj)

pairing: choi yeonjun x fem!reader x kang taehyun

genre(s): fantasy, period!fic, nine-tailed fox!yeonjun, crown prince!taehyun, angst, fluff here and there

word count: 4,1k

the spirit who had been guarding the south side of the mountain, a nine-tailed fox, is requested by the crown prince of Joseon to make an appearance before his betrothed. though reluctant at first, he agrees on condition that their meeting is fleeting and under the guise of a mask.

an: this was inspired by the kdrama ‘tale of the nine-tailed’, hence the similar elements. events may or may not be historically accurate. ++ i’m really anxious about how this fic will be taken, but i’ve put too much effort in to let it sit in my drafts ksks. might post the part 2 if you want! let me know what you think!

(finally posting this as a gift for the immense support i’ve been receiving! thank you! ❤️ and low-key bc sumi has been thinkin about kitsune yeonjun)

Sealed by the promise of two youths many moons ago, your betrothal to the crown prince of Joseon was something which was not unbeknownst to anyone in the country. Many young ladies, noble and common alike, coveted your fortune and would make desperate pleas to the gods to have half the luck you did. And perhaps anyone else would have boasted about how fate had favoured them, but you didn’t.

“(Y/n)? Are you listening?” his highness asked, raising an eyebrow as you continued to flip through the pages of a book you had picked up from his desk. You placed the book back where you found it and turned to look from the pavilion, out across the pond and above the canopy tops to the mountains in the distance.

What had intrigued you about the palace was not the status, nor the riches, nor the people who dwelt within it. After all, you preferred to be neck-deep in books of history and literature, poetry, and volumes which questioned which was myth and which was reality. Your father, though, was as open-minded as anyone else was about the education of women at the time – not at all. So you had resorted to killing two birds with one stone; appeasing your father by agreeing to meet with the prince meant getting your hands on books you wouldn’t be able to find anywhere else.

But today, you had an entirely different motive.

“Do you believe in mythical beings, your Highness?” you asked, turning to face the prince who stared back at you, wide-eyed.

The seemingly sudden question had him taken aback.

From the very first meeting, you had puzzled Taehyun. Like you, although he knew he had to do it some day, the topic of his marriage hadn’t interested him. Or rather, it was more important to him that the person he would one day wed had the same interests as he did – the good of the people and the flourishing of the country.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t expect you to be as crazed about love and titles as the other noblewomen of Joseon were, at first. So he was pleasantly surprised when you had arrived at Gyeongbokgung, not batting an eyelash in his direction. But when he had attempted to open discussions about politics and solving the exorbitant taxes expected from the people, he’d find your nose buried in one of the books from the pile you sifted through by his desk.

Taehyun was already struggling to figure you out, and now you asked him this.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” he cocked his head to the side, folding his hands behind his back. “have you come across something thought-provoking?”

“It’s quite straightforward; a yes or no question.” you shrugged, smirking as your eyes caught the not-so-discreet glances his personal guard and the eunuch had given one another.

Ultimately, to have relations with the throne was not all sunshine and roses. For your own protection, and to ensure you were not used as leverage against the king, your father had sent you very far from home – to Southern Jeolla. And it was upon your arrival back in Hanyang, after many years away, that you had come to hear the rumours which had surrounded the royal family.

A gumiho. A nine-tailed fox. The spirit which protected the forest. A being which could not be trusted. The one to whom the country owed it’s prosperity. The one at whose hands the country could fall into havoc.

You knew better than to believe the words of storytellers and self-proclaimed chroniclers. It was the fact that they had all said the same thing which had perturbed you. It left this unsettling feeling, which just wouldn’t fade away. So you read book after book, folklores and retellings, each and every documented account of those who had insisted they had seen the man with ‘eyes which glowed like hot embers even in the light of day’. It nearly drove you insane.

That was, until just this morning, when you had overheard the court ladies chattering away in hushed tones about how so-and-so had come to see the prince again, how much so-and-so frightened them, and how they wondered for how much longer the king would leave the future of the kingdom in the hands of such a wild-card.

You turned to look out beyond the trees again, a sudden gush of wind rattling their branches and sending their leaves sailing through the air. “Let me meet him. This... friend of yours, your Highness.”

“No.”

Taehyun nodded, taking a leaf from the shrub in front of him between his fingers, “I thought you’d say that.”

Yeonjun huffed, taking a bite out of one of the freshly picked apples the prince had brought along with him on his visit (as some sort of incentive, he supposed). The scowl he had adorned etched deeper into his face as Taehyun’s proposition crossed his mind a second time. He should have left the boy to the wandering spirits all those years ago, is what he thought. The fact that Yeonjun had allowed him to follow him around and meet with him must have made him cocky.

In the beginning, he trusted them. Yeonjun had spent thousands of years cultivating the forest and protecting those which lived beneath it’s canopy. He had taken an oath to never allow any harm to come to it, and as a sort of by-product, had taken up an arrangement with the king to hand over to him any miscreants who chanced into his territory. And for hundreds of years, this agreement was honored. King after king had revered the spirit who protected the people, throwing grand festivals in his honor.

Until humans did what they always do. They became consumed by greed and corrupted by power. They feared that the existence of a powerful being, and the esteem in which the people held it, threatened the very authority of the throne.

On a night which felt like yesterday to Yeonjun, the then king had convinced him to appear before the people, reasoning that he deserved to be celebrated and loved; not lurking in the depths of a forest where he wondered alone. His yearning for family provoked, he had left, only to return to enormous crackling fires which devoured everything in their path.

Now he was being asked to entertain the likes of one of them again? An insolent, entitled woman who was probably the daughter of some power-hungry government official nonetheless? He wouldn’t allow himself to be made a fool out of again.

“I’m aware you cannot leave the forest unguarded for long periods of time, especially at night,” Taehyun said, brushing the bits of earth from his hand onto his silk garment. “which is why I want to bring her here.”

The half-eaten apple hit the forest floor with a thud.

“What did you just say?” the same incredulity written on Yeonjun’s face, embedded into his voice.

Taehyun grinned sheepishly, “Hyung, can’t you do me this one favour?”

Quickly taking a seat beside him, the crown prince of the Joseon dynasty grabbed onto the sleeve of Yeonjun’s black robe and tugged at it. Yeonjun sucked a sharp breath of air through his teeth and slapped his hands away. The memory of a scared little boy in disheveled clothes, sobbing as snot ran down onto his lips crossed Yeonjun’s mind. He bit back the grin which fought to pull at his lips.

“I thought you weren’t interested in love? Why all the effort then?”

Taehyun dropped his hands from where they had been grappling at Yeonjun’s robe and stood up, clearing his throat before folding his hands behind his back again. Yeonjun smirked. “It’s not by choice, the woman in question is frightening. Only the gods would know the lengths she would have gone to had I refused her.”

Many minutes of back and forth bickering had passed before Taehyun managed to convince Yeonjun to appear before you. This reluctant agreement came with conditions, however. Leaving the mountain for even a moment during nightfall was out of the question, but that didn’t mean that he was okay with some suspicious woman wandering into his home. So, they had settled on the foot of the mountain closest to the north side. Yeonjun had also made sure to point out that although he had agreed to let you see him, he never agreed to introductions.

“You never struck me as the type to attend parties in the evening, your Highness,” you hollered from your palanquin which lagged behind his. When no reply came, you seethed, biting back the urge to punch a hole through the expensive wooden barrier in front of you. He had suddenly appeared at your father’s estate just as the sun had dipped beyond the horizon, not bothering to give an explanation before your father had the guards stuff you into the tiny varnished vehicle. “You haven’t yet answered me, your Majesty. The question from earlier.”

You cried out in pain when the palanquin was suddenly set down, tossing you up in the air like a shuttlecock. Hand still pressing down on your head from where it had hit the roof of the palanquin, you glared at Taehyun’s outstretched hand when the door folded open. You violently slapped the hand away and pulled back your skirt, nearly kicking his shins as you climbed out. Accidentally, of course.

Your behaviour amused Taehyun, a smirk finding its way to his lips. He whispered something to Soobin, his personal guard, who had given him a distressed look in return. He sighed as Taehyun placed a hand on his shoulder, giving a quick nod before returning to the entourage. You raised an eyebrow when Taehyun offered you a smile, gesturing his hand to the left of where the road forked into two.

The evening air was brisk; the various flora emitting a plethora of unique smells which blended together as they crawled into your nose. Leaves rustled as the forest creatures scurried across the floor; the occasional flapping of wings and hoots of the wide-eyed, mice-eating predators filling the otherwise eerie silence. The pale moon, which shone like a great halo in the sky, casted it’s light through the trees, creating beautiful natural skylights and mysterious shadows. The breeze was ever-so gentle, seemingly caressing your cheeks as you followed Taehyun down the path filled with earthy soil.

“You’re going to kill me aren’t you?” He chuckled at the question you had posed. He took a firm hold of your hand as he helped you cross the stream you had encountered, squeezing it a little tighter as your shoe glided off some algae, smiling when he heard the under-the-breath cuss.

When you had both safely crossed over into the field of long grass on the other side of the bank, he caught his breath for a moment. “My men say there came a troupe from Jeonju in Northern Jeolla a few days back,” Taehyun started, motioning for you to follow behind him as he stalked through the vegetation.

You groaned. Just how much torture was he planning to put you through? Did he find out you had ‘borrowed’ some of the books from his shelf?

After another few dreadful minutes of walking, an enormous tree came into your sights. It’s trunk looked as if it could house a small population, and it’s branches spread far across the open space; a meadow. Taehyun smiled in satisfaction and wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead, before placing his hands on his hips. Was this what he wanted to show you? You were far too tired, and your feet hurt way too much to enjoy the sentiment.

“Right, as I was saying,” The prince continued. You took a seat on the soft blades of grass and began pulling the shoes off your aching feet. “Despite journeying across the country to perform in gisaeng houses, I’m told the productions of this troupe were rather enthralling – ”

The sound of your snorting earned a glare from the prince. You shook your hand, “I find myself in constant surprise this evening, your Highness,” you laughed. “Hearing the term‘gisaeng’ from your mouth would send chills down anyone’s spine.”

The distant strumming of a zither whispered in your ears and your body froze. Slowly, the field, which had been lit only by the silvery hues offered by the moon, glowed in shades of green and yellow as fireflies hovered in the air. Then the zither stopped. Your neck snapped in the direction of scuffling feet by the tree trunk. Figures dressed in black placed paper lanterns varying in size at the base of the trunk, before scaling up to the branches.

A gasp slipped from your lips when the zither had suddenly started playing again; much louder this time. Ribbons dropped from different branches around the tree, carrying men and women who spun as they unravelled. Sporting white masks in the form of a fox, they danced around the tree, twirling and swinging back, dipping low before soaring through the air with such delicacy it gave you goosebumps.

“This performance is called the Fox’s Hiraeth,” Taehyun whispered, eyes fixated on the scene before of him, “you asked the other day did you not? About gumihos in Hanyang.”

His Highness’ attempt to throw you off was painfully obvious in that moment, and it did not go unnoticed. But just before you could make the remark that you had been carefully curating for exactly this situation, the zither had come to a stop once again. Leaves rustled above you and you lifted your head into a pair of the prettiest eyes you had ever seen.

They were a shade of light brown; little flecks of green and amber peeking from in-between when light passed through them. Bewilderment swam in those sparkling orbs behind the mask, it’s wearer holding his breath, not looking away for even a moment. The feeling in your chest drew a smile onto your lips, so big, it pushed up the corners of your eyes.

“Hello.”

He pulled back suddenly, and a strong gust of wind blew right through you, making you squeeze your eyes shut. The wind seemed to blow harder and harder – Taehyun had to press his hands onto your shoulders to prevent you from being gone with it. When it had died down and you opened your eyes again, you shot up, shoving his hands away.

The lights had gone out and the fireflies were nowhere to be seen. The lanterns and the troupe too had vanished into thin air; leaving not a trace. But that was not what was distressing you.

Hands clenching fists into your satin skirt, your eyes searched desperately, “where did he go?”

“Who?” Taehyun questioned, tightening the black cloth strings of his gat. He blinked, feigning innocence so professionally, it antagonised you. “The performance is over; we should leave.”

Pulling your lips between your teeth, the agonizing feeling of having lost something important tearing at your chest, you made a decision. You were positive that Taehyun knew exactly what was going on, but you weren’t about to waste any more time trying to force an answer out of the tight-lipped prince.

Where the meadow under the peculiar tree ended, the forest started again, and spread all across the mountain. You could have been mistaken, and that man may have just been another one of the performers. But it was the forest. It felt as if it was calling out to you; screaming. Every one of your limbs ached to dash into its depths.

Taehyun cleared his throat and turned away instantaneously when he noticed you hurriedly tearing off your blouse. You tossed the garment carrying the golden emblem to the ground, and slipped your shoes back on, ignoring Taehyun’s voice which bombarded you with questions.

He grabbed onto your hand before you left and you stopped, peering down at where your bodies were joined. “It’s dangerous.” he said; his voice as firm as his grip, yet eyes pleading with you like those of a child.

Despite your fathers’ lasting friendship, you had never met Taehyun until a few days ago. And if you did, you couldn’t recall. The confounded stares he had thrown at you upon your arrival had amused you; they were not contrary to that of the other noblemen and their sons whom your father had introduced you to. You didn’t act like the prince’s woman – they had probably expected someone who they could easily manipulate and bribe to their liking – but you were very much the opposite.

It was his behaviour in the days that followed which had taken you by surprise. He’d have books stacked up all around his desk which varied in genre, and were organised by author and publication date, whenever you visited. He seldom spoke and never forced conversation with you, but he’d call for tea and sweets then leave them at a certain place on the tabletop untouched. You’d catch his eyes glancing up at you every once in a while in your peripheral vision, and a smile would find itself to your lips.

He cared for you and you had grown to care for him as well. But you knew that if you left with him right now, your insatiable curiosity would only grow and you’d just end up returning here anyway.

Placing your hands over his, eyes asking him to forgive you, you slipped out of his grasp.

“I’ll be okay.”

Yeonjun paced up and down the cliff once more. He glanced over his shoulder at the mask resting against a boulder behind him, then slapped his hands onto his face and lamented. He couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong. Everything was happening exactly as he had planned – the dokkaebi had put on their show, relishing in the fact that they were pranking humans; the trees, the breeze and the critters had agreed to set the mood for what he had intended to be your heart being won over by the Taehyun.

He peeked through the spaces in his fingers at the wooden guise, and proceeded toward it. He knelt down and picked it up, eyes fixating on the slots where they were housed previously. He was certain he had prepared for everything, but that all changed when his eyes met with yours.

They stared back at him in surprise, but that surprise slowly transitioned into a warmth which enveloped him; the light of the lanterns which reflected from them, inviting him closer. They scared him, too. Under the mask he had given himself the appearance of one of the lumberers who frequented the forest, but your eyes seemed to stare right through him. They reached into his depths, baring him before you.

Yeonjun glared, irritated with how foolish he had been. He should have trusted his instinct and refused Taehyun no matter how much he insisted. It was absurd that after all these centuries he still let himself fall prey to the ludicrous fantasy he would ever be able to live and feel as they do – he knew that was the real reason he had gone along with this preposterous idea.

His grip on the mask tightened before he hurled it into the bushes. Your voice exclaimed an ‘Ow!’, making him topple over in surprise. The golden rays of sun spilled over the summit just as you stepped out from the flora, bathing you in it’s warmth and highlighting your features as it chased away the night. You rubbed your head profusely where the mask had hit you, pausing when you noticed Yeonjun’s figure on the floor.

Hands on your hips, smiling in triumph, you blew the stray strands of hair from your face. “Found you.”

He had never in his life met such a vivacious woman. Your hair looked like a bird’s nest; tiny twigs and leaves buried within the now tousled black locks. There were tears in your hanbok. Stains of dirt, grass and mud soiled the skirt. Alas, you still had a stupid smile plastered across your mucky face. He caught himself before he started grinning like an idiot too, shuffling amongst the earth before rising with his back turned towards you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. Was he looking down on your intellect?

“You’re not very clever for an ancient spirit,” you remarked, tossing the mask at his feet. His frame froze, making you scoff.

The hair cascading down his back was a pale shade pink which shimmered under the light. It contrasted the pitch black robes he adorned, which were embroidered with silver. When he turned around to give you a look of wry amusement, you noticed the bangs which framed his face were more washed out in colour compared to the rest of his head. His slanted eyes were mono-lidded, and they glistened as beautifully as the night before. His lips were plump; it’s colour reminded you of the strawberry tanghulu you had seen in the market.

He stepped closer to you, smirking at the way you were entranced by his beauty, until his face stood only inches away from yours. You cast your eyes away from him, gulping as you took a step back. His eyebrows furrowed when you cringed, staggering before you fell to the ground.

“Are you alright?” he fretted, the role of the charismatic flirt quickly abandoning him as he helped you to your feet. He wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you into his arms, and carried you to a place where you could sit comfortably. You gripped only his garments tightly, eyes still refusing to meet with his; the scent of flowers lingering on your clothes as he set you down. “His Majesty did not accompany you?”

He knelt down beside you and pulled off your shoes. Blood had soaked into your socks from all the hiking you had done the night before – the back of your shoes had cut deep into your heels; climbing over boulders and through thick vegetation had made the soles of your feet sensitive and prone to cuts and scratches. He pulled his lip between his teeth, eyes shooting daggers into yours.

He poured some of the alcohol he had been storing over your wounds, and massaged in the compound he made of medicinal herbs he had momentarily disappeared to go and find. He tore pieces of his robe to bind them when he was finished, then folded his arms over his chest. “I’m taking you back to the palace.”

You jolted up from where you were seated; Yeonjun pushed your shoulders back down. “None of my questions have been answered, I’m not leaving until they are.”

“Don’t you have a prince to marry?” he contended, tapping a finger on his chin, “they’re not going to be impressed when you return looking like this.”

“What’s your name? Are you really a nine-tailed fox? How old are you? Do you eat human livers? If so, why? Is it true that you are only able to receive titles like the ‘Spirit of the Mountain’ when you don’t feed human on livers? Are you actually a woman? Do you really want the best for this country? Do you wish to bring it to ruin for your own pleasure? Is it true that – ”

He took a step closer to you, and lifted your chin with his finger, closing your mouth. You held your breath as his eyes flickered to your lips, and he smirked noticing the blush spread across your face. He reached behind you and pulled the jade pin from your hair, the tresses falling gently down your back. Bringing the hairpin before you, and his lips to your ear, he whispered, “I dare not rob the future king of his woman, my lady. You should return home for your own safety.”

His hand travelled down the length of your arm, trailing goosebumps and setting fire to your skin. He placed the pin into your hand and lifted it, brushing his lips across your knuckles. His eyes locked with yours and you gasped as they glowed like a setting sun.

A horse whinnied as it strode into the area, making you tear your eyes away from Yeonjun’s. Taehyun slid off it’s back, rushing to your side. He grabbed onto your shoulders brows furrowing as he examined you from top to bottom. “Are you alright, (Y/n)?”

You nodded absent-mindedly, searching for where he had gone. Taehyun led you to his horse, and lifted you onto the saddle, sighing as he found you still trying to see past the trees and their leaves. You squeezed onto your chest as you rode away, an inexplicable feeling overtaking you. You had to see him again. Not out of curiosity. No, you – you just had too.

Yeonjun held onto the trunk of the pine tree and swung his body around from the backside. Watching you ride off into the distance, eyes still set on finding him, he sighed, twirling the ring he had slipped off your finger around his.

“(Y/n), huh?” he muttered under his breath, exhilarated by the way it rolled off his tongue.

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yolkyeomie · 4 years ago

Text

Humanity of the Inhuman | Kim Sunwoo

summary — legends are meant for the wild fantasies of the dream world, but when one myth suddenly comes true, you find yourself tangled within its webs of reality.

word count — 7.2k words

pairing — sunwoo x female!reader (ft. x juyeon in a sense?)

genre — college au, gumiho au

disclaimer — !! light mentions of death, blood, and injury !! this is an wip of fic that I did not have the energy to complete, so it leaves off at a pretty big cliff hanger :( but if enough people enjoy it it I’ll make a part 2 or sumn lol (update: it does in fact have a part 2 now, go enjoy it!)

part I | part II | part III | part IV?

“Nine tailed foxes,” the instructor stated, pointing their finger towards the pictures that were projected upon the board. There were three different depictions of the creature from other cultures posted up together, expressing how each of the cultures viewed the mythical being. Mindlessly you began to draw on the notebook set in front of you, taking in each picture and messing different aspects that you liked together.

“Known as the Kitsune in Japan, the Huli Jing in China, and the Gumiho here,” they continued, switching to the next slide that only displayed more old pictures of the fox, “they are a well known part of our folklore today that even western countries have begun to adopt their own version of this creature into their literature.”

“If it’s so popular, why are we learning about it now,” you mumbled, the lead of your pencil snapping as soon as the words had been spoken into existence. You let out a deep sigh at the inconvenience, letting an angry curse come out of your mouth as you leaned over to grab something new to write with.

Though you stopped mid turn as a black pen was placed into your vision. Curiously you glanced up to catch the smiling sight of Juyeon above you, waving around his pen and urging you to take it from his hand. “We’re learning about the Gumiho because it’s an important part of our folklore, just because it’s well known doesn’t mean you shouldn’t teach it.”

He was an acquaintance, nothing more than that, a “school friend” if that made more sense. You had met him the first day you attended the mythology class after picking up the course for fun, seeing as the only available seat in the room was by him. Having no friends who attended the class at the same time as you, he had offered to become one and you gladly took up his request in order to feel a little less only in the room full of strangers.

It was a little odd to see a class so minor like this be jam packed with students, but you did notice the recent influx of people who were interested in the mythologies of their and others cultures.

Plus, you didn’t do very well on your own and were a little more socially dependent than you’d like to admit, so Juyeon’s willingness to befriend you was greatly appreciated.

“Well, I guess you’re right,” you shrug, gratefully taking the pen out of his hands. “But still, what person doesn’t know the wild tales of the nine tailed foxes? They’re like… everywhere now. If I meet someone who didn’t even have a clue what I was talking about, I’d be surprised.”

“You never know,” Juyeon continued, urging you to take a look at the board. Being presented was the Korean version of the nine tailed fox, a few notes typed beside the art describing the details and depictions of what was generally believed about the fox demon. “Maybe one day you’ll need that information to save yourself from a Gumiho one day?”

You snorted at his words, pointing out one of the bullet points to him and quietly reading them to him. “First of all, this is a mythology class. That means everything we learn here is a myth, not real? Secondly, it clearly says that they seduce men and last time I checked, I’m not a man.”

“Well, I guess you’ve got a point there,” he nodded, laying his head in his hands as he half heartedly listened to the teacher speak. “I guess I’m the one who should be paying more attention to the lecture since I’m the man, but I don’t think a Gumiho would ever find interest in me.”

“Why?” You questioned, a teasing smile appearing on your face and you poked the pin cap into his side. “It’s said that gumihos eat human livers, do you have bad livers or something? Do you have some sort of liver disease that would make you undesirable to a fox?”

“If I say yes will you stop poking me?” He innocently asked.

“I’d know you’re lying if you said yes, you’re rather healthy despite some… odd habits you have,” you clarify, giving the boy a skeptical look before turning back towards the board. You were only acquaintances with Juyeon, but there were times you’d catch him in the hallways of the building or dorms when you were looking for Kevin doing skeptical activities. Most of the time he was just smuggling snacks that his roommate would steal out of the room but man did he look crazy while he did so.

“Hey, those aren’t odd habits, it’s me protecting what I paid for,” Juyeon argued, a pout developing on his face as he tried to explain himself, “if you don’t pay for it, you don’t get a bite of it! That’s the rules and you have to respect the rules.”

You only spared Juyeon a quick glance, your eyes full of skepticism for him. He was a nice guy, a decent person to hang around, but awkwardly catching him in the hallways like a criminal running from a crime scene was all you had to see from him to determine whether or not you wanted to hang around him often. “Y/N, seriously! I'm not some freak I promise, my roommates and I just do this often and—“

“Sure, Juyeon,” you nodded, softly patting his back in only slight comfort. “I completely understand what you mean.”

“Y/N!” He complained a little louder this time, earning some sneaking looks from the rest of your peers. The two of you weren’t the biggest troublemakers but you did have a volume problem more often than you’d like to admit. Though, that was mainly because Juyeon doesn’t understand when to keep his mouth shut. “Come on, Y/N, I know you don’t believe what I’m saying but you gotta! I can even show you what we—“

“I really don’t want to walk into that room,” you decline almost immediately, “something tells me I’ll regret it if I do.”

A small chuckle left Juyeon’s mouth at your harsh words, finally taking the response as an end to the conversation. It seemed as though the two of you had stopped just in time though, as a deep sigh left your instructor’s lips. The entire class turned their head towards him in confusion, unsure on what sort of gloom had possessed their mythology teacher.

“I think… I’ll end class early today,” he declared, turning off the board that had projected the day’s lesson. In a flash, your reference for your very own nine tailed fox disappeared in front of your eyes as the instructor continued to speak. “The rain just… throws me off the mood for today.”

Instinctively you turned your head toward the window and lo and behold, the rain was pouring down outdoors. Many students groaned at the sudden change in forecast, not having brought umbrellas to shield them from such weather since the day had called from sunny skies. “Ah… that’s gonna suck going home,” you tell yourself, noting how even you hadn’t brought an umbrella.

“Excuse me!” A student called out, drawing attention to the front of the class where they had seated themselves. “If you don’t mind me asking, are you superstitious? Usually rain is considered a good thing especially on wedding days. It’s supposed to be a good omen for the future of their marriage.”

“Superstitious?” He hummed in response, thinking to himself for a few moments before answering. “Well, in a sense? Not for the reasons you think I am though.”

“Does it have something to do with gumihos?” You couldn’t help but ask, curiosity getting the best of you as you blurted out in front of everyone. The class turned back to look at you expectantly, exchanging confused and bewildered glances with each other. Even Juyeon looked at you as though you were beginning to lose your mind. You don’t really blame them, rain didn’t really have anything to do with gumihos after all.

However, your teacher smiled at you. His eyes crinkled at their sides and his wrinkles from age becoming more prominent as his smile continuously grew larger as he thought about his answer again. “Something my grandparents used to tell me when I was younger,” he began, each student getting left on the edge of their seats as he turned back towards the rainfall, “that when it rained, it meant a gumiho had entered the premise.”

II.

“You don’t actually believe him, do you?” Juyeon asked, holding the borrowed umbrella over your heads. The boy had offered to walk you home in the disastrous, knowing you lived off campus instead of in the dorms. The dorms were a lot closer to the apartment you had rented out, so the two of you had scrambled over to his room first in order to grab an umbrella and begin the trek to your home.

He was only walking you towards the closest bus stop to the campus, not wanting to intrude on your privacy any further than he already was. Juyeon was just your acquaintance from mythology after all, he was just a little too nice to let you go out into the rain and get soaking wet.

“What, about the whole rain and gumiho thing?” You responded, remembering your teacher's statement he had ended the class with. You shrugged after a moment to yourself, “honestly, not really. I mean, come on, gumihos being related to the rain? It doesn’t even make that much sense the more you think about it.”

“I guess you’re right,” he agreed, “but don’t you think it’s a little weird how he seemed to believe it? Whole heartedly too, he ended the whole class over some superstition his grandparents told him!”

“It’s probably an old saying in his family or something,” you ultimately decide, nodding your head to yourself as you come to a conclusion. “Lots of people have things like heirlooms and stories that get passed down from generation to generation, maybe that’s what that was. Maybe his family is really big on nine tailed foxes and rain.”

He shook his head in disagreement, stopping in place and nearly causing you to get soaked by the downpour. “I don’t think so, why would they pass down a saying like that when gumihos aren’t real?”

“How do you know that they aren’t real?” You challenged him.

“Because if they were real, then we wouldn’t be learning about it in a mythology class and calling it folklore,” Juyeon stretched his arm out so that the umbrella was covering the both of you as he kept talking, “Humans are like… cockroaches. We force ourselves into the lives of other beings, I think we would have done something about gumihos by now don’t you think?”

You grinned at him as you rocked back and forth on your feet absentmindedly, nugging his shoulder soft as you teased, “wow, I know the lesson wasn’t long today but did you already forget that we were taught? Once a fox has lived for a thousand years, it becomes a gumiho and can shapeshift! How will you know your face to face with a fearsome nine tailed fox when they look exactly like any normal stranger on the street?”

You didn’t even give the boy a chance to speak as you stood in front of him, your back getting pelted with the rain droplets as you continued to jeer, “anyone could be a gumiho. I could be a gumiho, your roommate could be a gumiho, our teacher could be a gumiho, even you could be a gumiho and we’d never know a thing!”

“I think you're forgetting something,” Juyeon countered, pulling out his phone from his pocket and waving it in your face. “Humans have technology, we’ll just develop more technology to find them if we need to.”

“Gosh, you’re no fun,” you pout.

“And your bus stop is right there,” he pointed behind you, taking note of the metal structure built on the side of the road.

You struggle to decide whether or not you want to steal his umbrella as payback for being the way he was but ultimately ditched the idea. “Fine, I’ll see next week then? That is, if you don’t get eaten by a gumiho that is.” You teased.

You watched as annoyance contorted on his face, wanting to find a reason to be mad at you but unable to keep the grin off his face. “I’m not going to be eaten by a gumiho, Y/N. Did we not just have the conversation that they aren’t real?”

“Gumihos seduce men to absorb their energy!” You argued once more. “You’re a physically fit guy whose kept his livers healthy and you’ve got the looks to draw attention to you, you’re the perfect meal for a nine tailed fox to catch!”

“Go home, Y/N,” he urged, pushing you out from under his umbrella. You whined at his audacity and quickly covered your head with your hands in an attempt to shield yourself from the rain. The boy only laughed at your reaction before waving you off, giving you a small farewell as you rushed over towards the bus stop.

When you glanced back to find him again, Juyeon was gone, turned around the corner with his umbrella in tow and forcing you to sit and wait for the bus stop to come if you didn’t want to be soaked by the time you got home.

“Sheesh he could have waited until the bus actually came,” you complained, sitting back on the bench with a somewhat annoyed frown donning your face once again. Juyeon always seemed like he was in a hurry at times, whether he was sneaking around the dorms on your campus or rushing through the hallways to get to his next destination, he always had somewhere to be. There were times where he’d completely ignore your existence in and outside of your mythology class because of his need for action, too busy with his daily life to even spare you a glance.

You wondered where he so urgently needed to go at times, but ultimately knew that was none of your business. The two of you were nothing but classmates, school friends who helped each other out every so often whenever you got the chance. You had no right to dig into Juyeon’s business, so you never tried to cross the line the two of you set up for each other. You don’t really know if you wanted to cross it in the first place.

Besides, he never even said hello to whenever he was in a rush! Why bother trying to discover something where he has to completely ignore your existence to do it? That wasn’t exactly your type of information and gossip you wanted to gather and indulge in.

You sat at the bus stop for around three or four minutes, unwillingly listening to the pitter patter of the rain on the bus stop glass. Like your superstitious instructor, you weren’t very fond of the rain but not for the same reasons. The weather would always ruin plans you had been looking forward to for weeks and the days that came after it always felt humid and musty, you didn’t enjoy the aftermath of rain like other people did.

Don’t even get you started on the days where a thunderstorm would roll over the city, those were the worst days of your life.

You snap out of your daze for a moment, however, completely forgetting your hatred for the raining weather at the sound of barking floating through the air. You tried to ignore it at first, comfortably leaning against the side of the structure and scrolling across your phone to distract yourself, but you couldn’t help it. The more you tried to pretend like the sound didn’t exist the louder it seemed to become, which was a lot seeing as the downpour was a little louder than normal.

Begrudgingly, you stood up out of your seat and shoved your phone deep into your pockets. “Is the universe trying to tell me something today?” You mumbled, covering your head with your hands and stepping out into the rain. You peered across the street where the barking was coming, checking the side of the road for any oncoming cars before rushing to the other side.

The closer you got to the other sidewalk, the louder and more distinct the barking became, resembling more of a young dog than a fully grown one. The barks were more closely related to squeaky toes than anything if you had to be honest; light, annoying, and young. But there was no one else on the street beside you, and your morals were telling you to involve yourself instead of run away.

“Puppy...or puppies?” You called, not exactly having a name to call out for the animals. You don’t even know if they could hear you over the rainfall, but it was worth a shot. If they didn’t come running to you soon you were going to run right back to the bus stop for shelter and go home. You didn’t want to fall ill from standing out in the rain for too long and you didn’t want to miss your bus stop either. “Come here, boy! Or girl…? Whatever you are, come here! I’ll get you some place warm and out of the rain.”

There was no response, which was to be expected. They were animals, not humans, so they couldn’t exactly reply back even if they really wanted to. The barking was still echoing across the area but there was no sign of the animal making all the commotion, not to mention the fact that the rain was beginning to fall harder with each passing second. You might have to give up early if you didn’t want to get caught in a potential thunderstorm, it hurt your heart but you had to take care of yourself as well.

“Ah, I better hurry up before I miss the bus home… walking is going to be a pain if I do,” you mumble to yourself, turning to sprint across the street.

Though you stopped yourself from moving when you heard the sound of bells echoing against your ears, ringing loud and clear within your head as if it was right in front of you. You cautiously look around you for the source of the bells, the jingling rippling out to the rest of the world like a droplet of water falling into a lake. The bells chimed again in your head, yet this time pulling in a certain direction and urging you to continue on that way.

Glancing between the bus stop and the direction you were being pulled toward, you followed the jingling of the bells. Everything in your body was telling you that chasing after the ringing was a bad idea but nevertheless you pushed forward. The dog barking had completely gone silent and the loudest thing in the area was no longer the rain, but the bells in your ears.

You scurried across the sidewalk like a cat, trying your best to stay dry in the unfortunate weather but ultimately failing as you began to feel your clothes stick to your skin. “Ah, there’s no way I’m not going to be sick after this.” You mumbled, turning the corner to peer down an alleyway where the bell chiming was the strongest.

“I’m wet and cold and I’ve been out here for way too— oh my god!” A scream fell out your mouth as you tumbled to the ground petrified by the sight before you. Slumped up against the wall was a boy, barely clinging onto his life as he took slow ragged breaths to keep himself stable. On his arms was the familiar crimson red creeping down his forehead and splattering to the ground, creating a mixture of water and blood pooling underneath him.

Did you just find the end results of a bloody fight? In the middle of the city and close to your college’s campus no less?

“Excuse me, are you alright?” You called out to him, mentally smacking yourself for asking such a question. Clearly the boy wasn’t okay, he was bleeding out in the middle of the rain!

Despite the stupidity of the question, he slowly turned his head toward you. A majority of his face was covered by his hair being plastered against his head thanks to the rain so you couldn’t exactly see if he was looking directly at you, but the mere fact that he was responsive was enough for you.

You hurry over to him as fast as you could, though careful not to slip and fall on the slippery ground, before crouching down next to him. “Can you move at all? It’s not good to sit out here in the rain and waste away, you need to go to a hospital or something—“

“No,” he declined, forcing himself to sit up against the wall and make an attempt to stand up. The boy struggled to himself up right, leaning against the wall for support and the severity of his wounds being put on display. It didn’t look like he got into a fight, per se, more like he had been attacked by an animal. He had large gashes that covered his body and his clothes were tattered and stained with the red hue they leaked down his arm. He needed any sort of medical attention, right away or he might actually bleed out in the middle of the alleyway.

“Can you not see that you’re hurt?” You hissed, grabbing a hold of his wrist and tugging him down to your height. The boy grimaced at your toughness as you rolled up his sleeve, catching sight of an ugly yet fresh scar that needed to be addressed immediately. “You need to go to a hospital, or you’ll die out here in the rain.”

“No,” he challenged you, his face somewhat akin to an animal’s snarl as he tried to snatch his arm away from you. In that instance you heard the soft of the bells that had led you down the alleyway, much louder than they had been before and nearly drowning at the words that the boy had spoken. It sounded like… the ringing was coming directly from him. “I can’t go there, I won’t go there. They won’t be able to help anyway.”

“Are you an idiot?” You couldn’t help but ask, almost scoffing at his persistence to stay away from medically trained professionals. His lips formed into a pout, appalled by the fact that you had the audacity to call him an idiot. “I’m trying to help you man. It’s raining, you’re bleeding out, and I’ve probably missed my ride to go home. Please don't take my kindness for granted and let me help you.”

III.

You laid down in the middle of your bed, staring at your ceiling as you struggled to recall the events from the day before. It’s not like you to forget things easily or anything, in fact you had a rather decent memory when it came to remembering events that had taken place beforehand. You didn’t have a photographic memory, you just had a habit of remembering little details that have happened throughout your day.

But right now? You couldn’t remember a single thing that had happened yesterday.

Most of what you could remember was leaving your mythology early because your teacher had ended the class early. He didn’t like the rain and it had shifted his mood and everyone was grateful for the extra time off. Juyeon had generously offered to walk you to your bus stop with his umbrella so that you could get home without getting rained on and…. that’s where it ends. You can’t recall anything that happened after that. You don’t even remember ever walking into your house the more that you think about it.

“Alright, this is weird,” you declare, forcing yourself to sit up off of the bed. At least you had no classes to attend, you don’t know how you could pay attention to anything you were being taught if you had to deal with your sudden memory loss. “Why can’t I remember anything? Why does it feel like what u forgot was something really important too…?”

Just when you felt as though you were on the verge of pulling your hair out, your phone began to ring. It was a lot louder than you originally set the volume on and was practically screaming at you to pick it up instead of ignoring it like normal. Frustrated, you snatched the device from underneath the sheets and answered the call with a much more aggressive “hello?” than you had meant to start with.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Juyeon’s voice registered through the speaker.

Juyeon. Why was Juyeon calling you right now? The two of you don’t usually call each other unless it was something class related because you weren’t close enough to each other to hold conversations like that. So the mere fact that he had called you out of the blue like this was…. weird to say the least. “Of course,” you replied, giving your voice a lighter tone than when you had answered. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You called me a couple of times yesterday but I didn’t answer because I was busy,” he clarified, giving you a little peek as to what had happened the day before.

You called Juyeon first, why would you do that? You didn’t even call him once, but multiple times given the way he had worded his sentence. You’re not even close to Juyeon, why would you even dare to call him several times yesterday? If you were in trouble you should have just called Kevin like normal! “Are you saying you don’t remember?”

“Yes, actually, I don’t remember anything that happened yesterday.” Maybe you had gone to go get a drink or something before coming home and that’s why your thoughts from yesterday were blurry. But you’re not the type of person to drink that much, at least not alone you wouldn’t. “Listen, Juyeon, I’m sorry about all of this. I didn’t mean to call you, I was just… out of it or something. I don’t know I just can’t remember right now.”

“It’s fine, Y/N, don’t worry I’m just glad you’re alright. I got worried something might have happened to you but hearing you now makes me relieved.” You smiled at his words, letting his caring words for you twirl around in your head like ribbons. Juyeon was just too nice to you, honestly, but he was probably like this with everyone he knew. It made sense if he was, he was kind to almost everyone he met.

Before you could answer, the jingling of bells echoing through your ears, distracting you from any other words that might have come out of the boy’s mouth. You glanced around the room for shunting that could have made the noise, but you don't exactly have anything that could chime like the whimsical clicking of a wind chime. “Do you hear that?” You asked him, cutting off the boy mid sentence as you stood up.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” he answered, “what am I supposed to be hearing? All I hear is you.”

In a flash all of the memories from the day before flooding back to you. The barking, the bell ringing, and the injured boy who refused to go to the hospital to treat his wounds. It all came back to you now, but why had it gone away in the first place. “I’ll… I’ll call you back, Juyeon.”

“Y/N? Y/N, what's wrong? Is something—“ you hung up before he could finish his sentence, cautiously following the ever growing sounds of the bells you had heard earlier. The closer you got to your door, the louder the chiming became, probably signifying the fact that you were going in the right direction.The last time you had followed the bells, they led you straight to the wounded boy. So if your hunch was right, it was most likely leading you straight back to him.

You carefully opened the door to your room, peering through the crack in the door frame to see what was going on. It was eerily silent and for the most the entirety of your apartment showed no signs of inhabiting a second person. “That’s odd…,” you noted, fully stepping out of your room to look around the room for the boy from yesterday. It seemed as though he hadn’t even lived in your house for an hour. “I don’t think he ever left… and I still can hear those bells so he can’t be far.”

Goosebumps ran down your spine as a cold wind blew through your living room. Something was off, you’ve never felt uneasy in your own home before. You had picked this apartment to live in because it felt comfortable and warm like home, but the only thing you were getting from it now was the feeling of being watched. As if a pair of eyes were carefully taking in your every move to determine how you’d react next.

“I know, you’re here,” you stated, rolling your eyes as you began to turn around. “You couldn’t have left in the middle of the night, you were bleeding out and collapsed as soon as you—“

You stopped mid sentence when you stopped the boy in the hallway to your bathroom, frazzled and confused by his surroundings yet still keeping a close eye on you. Now that he wasn’t soaking wet and bleeding (thanks to your amateur bandaging skills) you couldn’t help but notice how much more innocent without the dramatic effect of everything that had happened yesterday. “You really are still here, nice to see you didn’t die while I was asleep.”

“Where am I?” He demanded, not as aggressive as he was the day before but still in a rather rude tone you weren’t expecting from him. “How did I get here and… who are you?”

You slumped onto the small couch of your living room, glancing around the room for a moment before turning back to him with a cheeky smile on your face. “Heaven. You died in your sleep and now you’re in heaven. In the goddess that's going to accompany you through the afterlife.”

“Lies, you just said I didn’t die while I was sleeping,” he quickly pointed out, catching your lie as soon as it came out your mouth.

“Woah, despite all those injuries and passing out in the way here you still have a working brain, that’s good to know,” you tease him, watching as the boy rolled his eyes at your tiny jabs. “I’m Y/N but i guess you can just call me your savior really. Oh, and this is my house. You slept on the couch last night and I appreciate the fact that there is no blood on my cushions. Thanks.”

He nodded his head in understanding, though it seemed like the movements weren't actually correlating to what his mind was thinking. “Wait, you’re my… savior? No that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Why not?” You questioned, “I saw you bleeding out in an alleyway yesterday and I tried to take you to hospital but you kept refusing to go, so I just… took you home. I address your wounds and everything and just hoped that when I woke up there wouldn’t be a corpse in my living room. Luckily, as we see now, there isn’t. I saved your life.”

“No!” He yelled, rolling up his tattered clothes to find messily wrapped bandages all over his body. “Why would you do that?”

“Because you were dying?” You blurted, confused to the boy’s sudden panic. “What would you rather have bled out in public for all to see?”

“Yes, actually, that would have been the better option of the two.” How ungrateful was this boy? You saved his life and all he has to say is that he wished you didn’t? Maybe you should have strayed away from your morals for a second because all that had gotten you so far was a boy with no manners. “I don’t think you realize what you’ve done.”

“I have realized what I’ve done,” you responded, “I’ve saved your life because I’m a good person. Why are we arguing about this, there are no downsides to getting your lives saved. Wait, are you embarrassed because you got attacked by some feral cat and nearly died? Not gonna lie, I’d be embarrassed about something like that too.”

“I wasn’t… attacked by a cat,” he explained, a scoff threatening to spill out of his mouth at your bizarre accusation. “I don’t think a cat could make those types of scars.”

“If it wasn’t a cat…” you began, thinking aloud as you tried to member the wounds that covered the boy’s body. The more you pictured them in your head. The more you realize those weren’t… cat scars. They still seemed as though they were animal scars but a cat didn’t make that big a gash on a person’s body. You should have known, you’ve gone to cat cafes enough to have learned the hard way. “Then what…?”

“Gumihos,” the boy replied, tearing off the bandages you had wrapped around him the night before. You winced as you watched your handwork tumble to the ground, but were more concerned over the fact that the gashes on his arm were healed almost completely overnight. “I was attacked by gumihos.”

“Nine tailed foxes?” You blurted, more for yourself than the boy. Seeing you bewilderment made a smile begin to etch across his lips, childish yet mischievous as you tried to break down what you had learned in your head. “But… those are just folklore, they aren’t real. If they were, one would have been caught by humans at this point.

“Why? Don’t you know that a gumiho can shapeshift? They live among humans as if they were any other mortal in order to get what they want in life,” the boy explained, reminding you of the words you had thrown at Juyeon for making the same excuse. “You really think that they’d let a human catch sight of their existence and get away with it?”

“Okay then answer me this,” you ask, sitting up attentive to the stranger you had brought into your home. “If gumihos are real… then why did one attack you and leave you out to die? Don’t they usually kill humans for their livers and hearts? You should have been devoured by now.”

A hearty laugh left the boy’s mouth, much stronger and louder than the small giggle from earlier. His smile couldn’t stop growing on his face as he blinked his eyes at you, the dark browns of his iris swapping out to a bold amber yellow color. His pupils slowly began to dilate into the familiar small slits of a cat’s as your own eyes widened in pure fright. The boy you had saved had now become your greatest mistake. “What makes you think I’m human?”

IV.

“Juyeon!” You hissed at the boy, urging him to come to you once you had finally caught sight of him. He was walking with a group of his friends, people who hadn’t mingled with and didn’t know whether or not you wanted to in the first place. When the boy had turned his head to you, the entirety of his friend group did as well, displaying their bright and eager smiles as they waved their hands in greeting. Awkwardly you greeted them back, unsure of what to do next as they also whispered and muttered to themselves as they let Juyeon break from their group.

Hopefully it was something nice and not anything that could hurt your feelings. They were still grinning and jeering with each other despite whatever comments they were making, so maybe it was a conversation of their approval. Or at least… you hoped it was, you couldn’t really tell the difference. You acted like you had a tough shell but in reality you were way too soft when it came to a stranger’s perspective of you.

“What’s up Y/N?” He greeted, a fond smile plastered across his face as he stood in front of you with his hands shoved in his pockets. “It’s a rare sight to see you interact with me when we don’t have a class together. It must be serious.”

“Well…” you trailed off, unsure of how to explain to him. “I guess it’s serious? But nothing too serious… I need some advice really, that’s all.”

“Advise?” Juyeon questioned, intrigued by the topic you had brought him. “Wow… of all the people could have chosen, you need my advice! I can’t help but say I’m honored. But what happened to your other friend… Kevin was his name, right? He would come to walk you home after class sometimes, why aren’t you asking him?”

You grimace at the thought of the boy before quickly waving the thought away. “Kevin will just think I’m crazy and make fun of me. Plus, I think you’re probably most equipped to help me out here since we take mythology together and all.”

“Ah… still keeping this as a school oriented friendship right?” He teased, getting a small laugh to leave your mouth. “Alright, what is it? What mythological help do you need this time? I’m all ears.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure on how to word your sentences without sounding insane. The whole reason you had gone to Juyeon instead of Chanhee was because he would understand you a little better than your friend could. “Gumihos… you know how we’re learning about them currently, right? Is there something that people should know about them in order to protect themselves from one?”

Juyeon raised a brow at your question, staying silent as he thought to himself. “Gumihos? I thought you didn’t want to learn about gumihos because it was pop culture and everyone knows about them?”

“Well, what can I say!” You exclaimed, hoping to cover up your nervousness as much as possible. “I decided to take up a personal essay of sorts on those nine tailed foxes. I got intrigued a few days ago about them and I wanted to get as much information as I could about them, but we don’t go back to our mythology class until I… really can’t wait to get started.”

In reality, you actually had that gumiho boy holed up in your apartment still. In fear of the boy actually attempting to devour your liver you had locked him up in your bathroom and placed a talisman on the door so that he couldn’t escape. You had absolutely no clue on how to deal with a gumiho and you had only recently started your lesson on the fox spirits a few days ago. So needless to say, you wanted to be prepared for whatever might come next while housing him.

“That’s fair,” Juyeon agreed, taking your lie like candy and smiling brightly back at you. “I mean, the concept of nine tailed foxes are pretty cool, so I can’t blame you for looking into them a little further than everyone else.”

“So?” You asked, eagerly awaiting his answer, “Do you have any information I should know?”

“Well… there's this one thing I’ve been told before by my grandparents,” he explained, trying his best to recall past memories that had no use up until now. “Yeah, they would use old myths as stories to tell me before bed when I was a kid. They told me that no matter what fork a gumiho comes in, never let them kiss you.”

“Kiss?” You blurted out, shocked that that was the one thing he decided to share. “What’s kissing got to do with fox spirits?”

“It’s how they take your energy,” Juyeon told you, putting his pointer fingers together as if mimicking a kiss between two people. “When a gumiho kisses you, they absorb your energy. The more energy they absorb the weaker you become until you eventually die! Kinda scary, right? Not only do they feed off of human livers, but our mere life essence.”

“What type of bedtime story is that,” you mumbled, skeptically glancing over Juyeon. If that was the type of stories he was being told as a child, how was he not a little messed up in the head? If you were him, you would be absolutely terrified of everything even approaching you. Who knew when someone would randomly come up and kiss you? Your first and last kiss would be from a fox trying to steal your life away!

“I was very easy to tease as a child,” he shrugged, his smile turning sheepish as he softly scratched the back of his neck. “My grandparents loved telling me stories like that because I was an emotional little kid, ease to scare and quick to try and stuff like that.”

“That makes a little more sense,” you nodded, “no sane person would tell that as a bedtime story, it’s always got to be told to a child that’s easily scared.”

“Yeah, yeah, say what you want. If they hadn’t told them those stories of gumihos, I probably wouldn’t be taking mythology now,” Juyeon explained, glancing back toward the direction your shared class was. “And if I didn’t take mythology, you wouldn’t have any friends in that class.”

You shrug in response, he was right. If Juyeon had decided that he didn’t want to take the mythology course you probably wouldn’t have ever met him in the first place. So that was one good thing that had come out of his grandparents scaring him into the folklore of nine tailed foxes. “If you don’t mind me asking by the way,” the boy continued, switching topics while he still had your attention. “Whatever happened that day? You said you’d call me back but you never did. I can’t lie, I was a little worried for you again.”

“Ah, that,” you stall, struggling to make up a lie off the time of your head. You felt bad for lying to Juyeon more than you already were, you heard what he said! He’s worried about you and you didn’t want to put any more of load onto his back with your supernatural problems. “Well, I think I’ve got spirits in my house. I’ve been hearing weird noises sometimes and I thought you could hear it too, that’s why I asked.”

“Funny how things like this happen to a mythology student, huh? I wonder what kind of spirit has skipped their way into your house then.” Juyeon laughed, shaking his head at the ironic situation you had got yourself in, “well if you ever find yourself needing a home away from home, my dorm room is always open? We’d have to clean up a little bit before you arrive and sneak you in but anything to get away from spirits, right?”

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