#my world and reach and will to keep going gets smaller by the day <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[seilon]

one of those Gee I Sure Am Empty And Hopeless kinda days <3

[keikikait]

ʟᴏꜱᴛ ɪɴ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴛʏ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

check out my other rafe series here!

read the prequel series here!

pairing: rafe cameron x f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20's)

word count: 4.9k

summary: rafe is late for your date at the island club

warnings: no smut but is suggestive (read at your own risk), handsy rafe, mild violence/fighting, whipped reader & whipped rafe, they go to a restaurant but i don't specify any kind of food, rafe is angry for like 3 seconds but not at reader, mean jj, use of the word 'whore', i don't think they've shown rafe's new place yet so i made one up, i haven't watched all of s4 so if i get shit wrong i'm sorry, not proofread

a note: this was supposed to be short. oops

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

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You and Rafe had date nights every Friday.

It was the only sense of regularity that he had, and he wouldn’t miss it for the world. He would plan it, tell you when and where to be, and you would eagerly oblige. He surprised you with something new every week; one Friday you’re driving across the thoroughfare towards the mainland for a shopping spree, the next Friday you’re on a private yacht watching the sunset. This week, he decided to go for the tried and true; dinner and a movie.

‘6 PM’, he told you, ‘and wear that silk emerald green dress.’ He had to run out for the day, still dealing with the aftereffects of Ward’s death and his departure from Tanneyhill. Trying to sell a giant, 6-bedroom mansion wasn’t as easy as you thought, as most of the residents of Kildare couldn’t afford to buy it from him. He was considering turning it into an Air B&B, a project he would rope you into to help with the interior design. You and Rafe had a new place, another mansion still located in Figure Eight, although this one is much smaller, a Spanish revival you had a lovely time decorating. 

As the afternoon sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the landscape, you found yourself perched upon a solitary bench situated beside the parking lot of The Island Club, the salty tang of the ocean breeze carrying the distant sound of crashing waves. Couples filed into the club, paying you no mind. Even though The Island Club wasn’t far from your new place, Rafe still bought you an Uber, just to make sure you were safe. It was almost 6:15 PM at this point, and every call and text to Rafe went unanswered. You had already informed the staff of his late arrival, ensuring that your reservation would not get cancelled. You check your watch again before standing, walking around the parking lot to check the streets.

Where was he?

You tug your dress down your legs. It was Rafe’s favourite on you, hugging your ass and hips perfectly. It was finally starting to get cold on the island, and even though the black leather jacket you stole from him didn’t exactly go with your outfit, it was keeping you warm. The wind flows through your hair, and you push it out of your eyes, looking down the street, trying to spot him on his bike. You sigh, your shoulders dropping. You turn around to head back to the bench, pulling your phone out of your small purse, ready to call him again.

You’re about to sit down when you hear the revving and rumbling of his dirt bike, pulling into the left side of the parking lot. You sigh, putting your phone away as you walk over to him. You bite your lip when you see him wearing that grey blue waffle-weaved sweater that makes him look delicious. Rafe turns his bike off, pushing the kickstand down before getting off, reaching up to unbuckle the strap of his helmet.

“Hey, handsome.” You say, stepping off the curb and approaching him. You reach out, putting one of your hands on his bicep, fingers slightly digging into the muscle. Rafe pulls his helmet off, keeping it clutched in his hand. His eye and cheekbone were swollen, slightly yellow, and a cut underneath his brow bone marred his otherwise handsome face. The cut was deep, and blood was caked along its edges. It was clear that he had been in a fight, and he had not come out of it unscathed. He winced as you suddenly reach up to touch his cheekbone, a worried look on your face. “What the fuck? What happened?”

Rafe winces as you touch his cheek, pulling back from your touch. He wasn’t in the mood for your coddling. His jaw was clenched tight, his shoulders tense from the fight. He had no intention of telling you what happened, either. You never needed to know about the trouble he was in. He puts his helmet on the seat of his bike and grabs your waist, pulling you in front of him. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, trying his best to keep his voice level so that he didn’t snap at you. He pressed a kiss to your temple, not bothering to conceal the bruises and blood on his knuckles. Was it his or someone else’s, or both?

“Are you okay?” You ask, moving your hand off his bicep to rest on his waist. “Rafe, please tell me.”

His expression hardens as you continue to push. His fingers grip your waist almost painfully tight. “I said, don’t worry,” he repeats, his voice stern. He’d never talked to you like this, and you could hear the warning behind his words. His eyes stare down at you, intense and full of anger, although you’re not quite sure if it’s meant for you. “Let it go.”

You don’t push it, not wanting to anger him anymore. It was supposed to be a nice, relaxing night. You wrap your arms around his waist to pull him into a hug, laying your head on his chest. Rafe hesitates, surprised by the sudden display of affection, but then he wraps his strong arms around you, pulling you in close. He buries his nose into your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo, and for the first time that night, his shoulders finally drop, his whole body relaxing. He squeezes you tight to his chest, his chin resting on the crown of your head. 

He remains silent as he pulls away slightly, looking down at you. He keeps one arm wrapped around your waist, his hand gripping your side as his other hand flies to your neck. His grip is loose, but his thumb presses against your pulse — a small habit he picked up after he started dating you. In his own words, it’s a way to calm him down and to remind himself that you were safe.

Rafe sighs, pressing kisses to your forehead before leaning his against it, rubbing your pulse back and forth as it races under your skin. His voice is soft when he finally speaks, “I’m fine. Just ran into a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” You ask, rubbing your hand up and down his side.

“Nothing you need to be worrying about, sweetheart,” Rafe mumbles, still keeping his head pressed against yours. Rafe never used pet names with anyone else, but with you, it felt different. His eyes drift down to your lips, unable to resist. They were a faint shade of red, glossy and puffy from your bites, just as he liked them. “Just some shit with JJ and John B. I handled it.” He leans down and presses a soft kiss to your lips, the hand on your neck moving to cup your cheek. Even as he pulls away, he keeps your body pressed against him. “Let’s not let this ruin our night, alright?”

“Are you sure?” You ask, brushing your thumb across his abs. “We can go home and order in if you want. I don’t want you to feel compelled to go out tonight.”

“Baby, I’m fine,” he murmurs, his voice soft. He understood where you were coming from, but only you would ever try to get out of a very expensive date because you thought he was too tired. “I got reservations for a reason. I don’t plan on missing our date night just because of a little fight.” The hand on your waist moves to the small of your back, pressing your body closer to his. He’d planned out everything for tonight. A fancy meal, followed by a quiet movie night at your place, then ending the night with his face buried between your legs, your wrists bound to the headboard. He didn’t want to ruin a date night that both of you were looking forward to. 

You sigh, but don’t push it. You didn’t want to ruin the date with an argument. You grab his hand, careful not to brush across his shredded knuckles, before leading him towards the entrance. “If you change your mind, let me know.”

Rafe rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but smile a little bit at your persistence, thankful that you cared. He follows behind you, his strides matching yours. He winces a little bit when you grab his hand, his knuckles stinging from the fight, but he doesn’t dare let you know that. 

He holds the door open for you when you reach the entrance, waiting for you to go through before he follows behind, placing on hand on your lower back as you walk. His eyes drifted down to your ass, and he had to stop himself from reaching out and smacking it. Now that his father was dead, he had to try to keep the Cameron image clean and pristine at The Island Club. They weren’t fans of him to begin with.

You head through the small entrance, moving to wait in line for the hostess stand. The country club was pretty packed, a common occurrence for a Friday night. The couple in front of you were older, and the woman's eyes soften as she looked over her shoulder and spotted Rafe. 

He kept his hand on your lower back, not trying to hide the fact that you were both together. His eyes stayed locked with the older woman in front of you, not surprised to have already been discovered by one of the regulars. He could see the woman’s concern from a mile away, her expression shifting when she saw the scrapes and bruises on his face. Rafe sighed, his jaw clenching in annoyance. Even here, he couldn’t get away from his reputation. His hand started to rub small circles into your back, silently trying to soothe himself more than you.

The woman whispers to her husband before turning around again. “It’s Rafe, right?”

Rafe raises an eyebrow at the elderly woman, a hint of a scowl on his face as his eyes meet hers. He gives her a small nod, although he doesn’t feel like talking to a regular at The Island Club right now. He wanted nothing more than to spend the evening alone with you. “Yes, ma’am,” His response is short and brief. “That’s me.”

“I was a friend of your father,” The woman says. “We were business partners a few years ago. I’m sorry for your loss, Rafe. My condolences.” 

Rafe’s expression changes as soon as the woman mentions his father. He knew that most people from The Island Club had been friends with his old man and business partners with him. Hearing condolences for his father had become a regular part of his routine, but that didn’t mean he liked hearing about his father’s death every single time. His hand on your lower back tightens, pulling you a bit closer to him. He gives her a forced smile, trying his best to look polite. “Thank you, ma’am,” he responds, his voice stiff.

The woman smiles softly before turning back around, stepping forward towards the hostess stand. Rafe’s hands traveled from your hips to your lower back, pulling you closer to him. He was lost in reality, almost as if he didn’t want to admit to himself that his life was fundamentally changing. His father was dead, and his relationships with his remaining family were ruined. But he had you, and that’s all that matters to him right now.

You lean your head against his chest as you wait, hands wrapped around his bicep, rubbing it lightly with your thumb.

Rafe sighs as you lean against him, his hand on your lower back drifting down to cup your ass. He could only hope that the other patrons wouldn’t notice, although he didn’t really care that much. But that woman was going to tell everyone about how rough he looked tonight, and he knew that some people would have comments about that, too. Rafe lowers his head to speak in your ear, although his voice is quiet enough that only you could hear. “Can’t wait to get you home,” he murmurs.

"Yeah? You excited for me to get on my knees for you?" You ask. Just as Rafe had been thinking about you all day, you had been thinking about him. You couldn’t wait to sink to the floor in front of him, your hands eagerly unbuckling his slacks before letting him fuck your face. Your favourite part, though, was the way he gripped your hair and moaned as he cummed down your throat.

Rafe sighs, groaning low in his throat as your words go straight to his cock. He’d always loved it when you talked like this, even if you were in private or texting. He didn’t want you to talk to anyone else like that. You were his. “Mmm, I’m more excited to see your face when you ride me,” he mumbles, moving closer so that his mouth is right next to your ear, still careful to keep his voice low. He wanted to take you home right now, but he had been looking forward to this dinner all week, and he knew you were too.

The older couple in front of you step away, being led by the hostess to their table. You approach the stand, and you smooth out the front of your dress as you wait. Although Rafe was used to the rich life full of country clubs, cotillion and croquet, you weren’t. You wanted to make a good impression on the staff of The Island Club.

Rafe stands tall and proud as you both step up to the hostess stand, his arm still wrapped around your waist, his hand resting on the small of your back. He glances down at your dress, taking in every detail of your appearance. You looked absolutely stunning in that dress, and it was taking all of his self-control to not get hard right now. The way you anxiously chewed on your lip, the way your hair was shining in the ambient lighting of the country club, the way you wore the ‘Rafe’ name necklace he bought you…he loved everything about you. He tugged you closer, loving the way you put a hand on his stomach as you leaned against him. You both had matching gold rings, engraved with your anniversary, yours on your forefinger while his sat on his thumb. 

The hostess looks up to greet both of you. She glances down at the reservation book for just a moment before nodding, a polite smile on her face. “Mr. Cameron,” she says. “Your table is ready.” She gathers two menus before leading you through the dining room towards the more private, member’s only area of the country club.

Even though you had been dating Rafe for a while, almost a year, you were always surprised by his influence. He had everything he ever wanted at the tips of his fingers, and because you were dating him, you got those luxuries too; endless shopping trips, a house full of anything you could dream of. And a handsome boyfriend, of course.

As you walk behind the hostess, Rafe’s fingers intertwine with yours, holding your hand tight. He was aware of all the eyes on him, as you could hear the whispers and murmurs from their fellow patrons, knowing they were all aware of the fight with John B and JJ, and the rumors were probably already spreading like wildfire. The hostess leads you to a secluded corner with a single table set for two, two candlesticks illuminating the table with a warm glow. 

“Thank you,” Rafe mumbles to the hostess as his eyes drift towards the far corner of the room. He lets go of your hand with some reluctance, before holding the chair for you at the small booth. He was thankful for the secluded booth, knowing it was going to be easier to touch you under the table. Rafe slides in next to you, reaching over to grab your knee, stroking his thumb softly back and forth. He wanted to put his hand on your throat to feel your pulse again, but he didn’t think that the patrons and staff would like that.

You thank the hostess, setting your purse down in the empty space next to you. As the hostess walks away, Rafe’s hand slips under the skirt of your dress, grabbing onto your inner thigh and rubbing back and forth. His touch is featherlight, just the lightest graze of skin against skin, although he can feel all the heat from your skin. 

He picks up the menu from the table, pretending to scan the food while his hand caresses you. He leans in toward you, although his eyes are still scanning the menu. “Do you know what you want to eat, sweetheart?”

“You.” You say immediately, flipping the menu over to look at the other side.

Rafe can’t help but let out a slight chuckle at your immediate response, his hand on your thigh stopping for a moment. His eyes finally look up at you from the menu, an amused look on his face. “Mmm, not yet, baby, but you’ll get it later. Promise,” he grins, his eyes drifting back down to the menu as his hand starts to rub against you again. “And for the main course?”

You sigh, glancing over the options. You didn’t really love any of the dishes on the menu, but you weren’t opposed to eating any of them. Rafe wraps his large, warm hand around your inner thigh and squeezes, yanking you a bit closer. It’s a simple gesture, but it makes your head spin, your brain shutting down for a split second. You purse your lips as you read before looking away, shifting in your seat. “You pick.”

He can see the way your body reacts to his touch, and it satisfies him to know that he can still affect you like that. It just makes him more eager to get you back home tonight. His fingers press into your thigh when you move closer to him, but he quickly loosens his grip when the waiter comes up to your table. 

He finally decides what he wants for the main course, and he orders for the both of you. His hand slides down your thigh, finally withdrawing, although he places his palm flat against your skin, resting his hand just below the edge of your dress. You sip on your drink as you wait for your food, feeling Rafe’s hand travel up your thigh again, as if he couldn’t resist. After the waiter walks away, Rafe’s focus turns back towards you, and he glances around the room to make sure nobody was watching. Seeing as everyone around him seemed to be doing their best to ignore him, he felt comfortable enough to continue his touch. His hand moves from your thigh to your hip, pulling you closer to him. “I like this dress on you,” he murmurs, his eyes raking over your body.

“Thank you,” You say as his hands travel up higher. “You look really good, baby.” You reach out and place your hand on his bicep, squeezing it. You couldn’t resist. He always looked good, but something about the way he looked in that fucking blue sweater and grey slacks made you go crazy, wanting to put your hands all over him and your mouth on his cock.

He gives you a smirk as your hand wraps around his upper arm, and he leans back into his chair. Your praise always brought out the cocky, arrogant side of him, and he absolutely loved when you told him how good he looked. His ego always needed a boost. He flexes the muscle underneath your hand, and it ripples underneath his sweater. “Yeah? You like this, don’t you?” He grins.

You nod, your mouth going dry. It was so hard to concentrate, all you wanted to do was shut your brain off and let him take control for the night. He knows exactly what effect he was having on you, and he loved seeing the effect that he could have on your body just from a little flex. “You feeling needy, baby?” He mumbles, his fingers pressing against your panties, right over your clit. You suck in a breath, gripping his sleeve to try to ground yourself. You nod.

The smirk stays plastered on his face as his palm squeezes tightly on the soft flesh of your inner thigh. He can see the way your shoulders tensing, knowing that you were trying your best to keep yourself from writhing in your seat. “Soon, sweetheart. We just gotta get through dinner,” he mumbles, although he wanted nothing more than to take you home right now and ruin you, make you cum over and over until you cry.

The waiter approaches with your food, setting everything on the table. It snaps you back to reality, and you move your glass so he can put your plate in front of you. As the waiter sets the plates down, Rafe reluctantly pulls his hand away from you. His hand goes to pick up his fork, although the movement is absent-minded. His eyes stayed focused on you, and the only thing he could think about was getting you home and alone. Eventually, he forces his eyes away from you and to his food. His other hand moves behind your lower back, resting his palm flat against the exposed skin, his pinky finger playing with the waistband of your panties.

You struggle through dinner, your thighs pressed together. The food was delicious, and you and Rafe spent a good amount of time talking about your plans for Tanneyhill, all the while he was brushing his fingers along your inner thighs and your panties. He was doing it on purpose, trying to rile you up, and it was working. You eat as quickly as you can, snatching your purse and  dragging him out of the restaurant after paying and leaving a tip.

You rush towards his bike, and he can’t help but chuckle at how desperate you are. He spins you around, pulling you against his chest. “Relax, baby. We’ll be home soon.”

You whine. “I need it, Rafe.”

Your whine was like music to his ears. His hand goes to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. His eyes are dark with lust as he looks down at you. “You’ll get it.” He says, grabbing his helmet and pushing it over your head. He secures the strap under your chin, kissing your nose. He climbs onto the bike, pushing the kickstand up.

“Do you have a helmet?” You ask, fiddling with it. It was definitely too big for your head.

“Nah,” He says, looking at you over your shoulder as you climb on, wrapping your arms around his waist. “I don’t need one, baby. I’m a professional. It’ll be fine, just hold on tight.”

“Rafe,” You say, your eyebrows furrowing with worry. “Are you sure?”

Rafe sighs as he places his hands on the handlebars, hearing the tone of worry in your voice. “Sweetheart, I swear, it’ll be fine. The house isn’t far,” he sighs, shaking his head and starting the engine. “I’ll go slow, okay? Just hold on tight and don’t let go. You’ll be fine, baby, I promise.”

You have no choice but to listen to him, tightening your grip around him, your purse squished between his back and your chest. “Okay.”

He nods slightly before reaching down to grab your thighs, pulling your body to fully press against his. He wants to be able to feel your skin against his. He doesn’t say anything else as he starts to drive, slowly making his way out of the parking lot. He had been through worse. He could handle a simple drive home without a helmet.

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You pull up into the driveway of your house, safe and sound. You wait for Rafe to pop the kickstand down and turn the bike off before standing, putting your purse back on your shoulder. You reach up, unclipping the helmet before pulling it off, shaking your hair out.

Rafe climbs off of the bike, gently letting go of the handles just in case it came tumbling. He bites his lip before reaching out, grabbing your waist and pulling you to him, his other hand immediately coming up to cup your neck. “You were worried for nothing, baby,” he murmurs, gently pressing his lips to yours. You kiss him back, your hands flying to his waist, lost in the feeling of his tongue on yours.

“‘Bout time y’all showed up.”

You and Rafe pull away, glancing down your driveway.

JJ and John B hop out of JJ’s van, parked right against the curb.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You ask, your hands dropping from their spot on Rafe’s stomach. Rafe’s grip on you tightens, feeling you pull away. His eyes are narrowed as he looks at JJ and John B as they approach the two of you.

“What, you two on a date? Couldn’t even invite us?!” JJ laughs, his hands shoved into his pockets. You thought that Rafe looked awful, but it’s clear that he had the upper hand during his fight with JJ and John B. JJ looks terrible, his eye bruised and almost swollen shut, the side of his face scratched up like he fell onto gravel. John B has a split lip and a deep purple bruise on his eyebrow, his knuckles caked with dried blood.

“Wow, JJ. You look like shit,” You say, unable to hold back. “You already got your ass beat, are you back for more?”

JJ glares at you, his hands tightening into fists in his pockets. “Careful where you run your mouth, slut,” he growls, taking a step towards you. 

That’s all it takes to piss Rafe off.  “Watch your mouth,” he growls. He steps in front of you, blocking JJ’s path.

You just laugh, unable to take him seriously. You push past Rafe, shoving your purse into his chest. “Excuse me?”

JJ stares directly at you, his expression turning into a scowl. “Careful, you don’t want to fall back into old habits. You’re just a little whore for all of the Pogues,” JJ growls, and John B puts a hand on his shoulder, trying to get him to shut up, but it isn’t enough for JJ to back down. He takes another step forward, his eyes locked on you and your face.

Everything happens quickly after that.

Before you could say another word, Rafe is launching himself at JJ, grabbing the collar of his shirt and throwing him against the side of his van. JJ tries to land a punch, but Rafe’s faster. He just keeps landing punches, one after the other, not letting up for a second. John B. jumps on Rafe, trying to hold him back, but it isn’t enough.

You quickly rush over, grabbing the back of Rafe’s sweater, tugging him backwards. “Stop. They aren’t worth it, Rafe.” His fist is raised, and he turns to look at you, hearing the panic in your voice. He freezes when you call out to him, and John B. jumps off of his back. 

The air is tense, everything is still and dead silent. All you can hear are their heavy breaths, and John B is holding onto JJ, preventing him from attempting to start another fight.

“If either of you ever come back here,” You walk towards them, getting up in JJ's face. “I'll bury you.”

JJ doesn't back off, and he glares down at you, a cruel smirk on his face.  “You gonna do it yourself?” JJ stands up, still being held back by John B. “Sweet, helpless little thing like you? Or are you just gonna try and hide behind your boyfriend?” His eyes trail down your body as his smirk grows, his teeth stained with blood.

You consider hitting him. You really do. But you know that JJ wouldn’t be scared to hit you back, and you really didn’t want to ruin this dress.

You step back before spitting on him.

A mixture of fury and shock shoots through JJ’s whole body, his face grimacing. “You bitch, I’ll fucking—“ JJ snaps, and he starts to come at you. John B grabs onto him, holding him back, but he’s barely able to restrain JJ, trying to calm him down.

You turn around, walking away from him, back towards your house. “Take your little bitch ass back to The Cut.” 

“You little whore, did you forget where you came from? Did you forget who you used to whore yourself out to?” JJ says, still fighting against John B’s grip on him. “You’re gonna regret that someday, you hear me? Someday you’ll have no one to protect your pathetic little ass, and I’m gonna be there, laughing at you. Just watch.”

Rafe starts to walk towards JJ and John B again, but you wrap a hand around his forearm, pulling him back. “Baby, stop. He’s not worth it.” You look up at him, trying your best to get him to calm down. 

JJ finally stops trying to shake John B off, realizing that he isn’t going to be able to land a hit on you, no matter how badly he wants to. “You’re lucky you’re not with the Pogues anymore. I’d teach you some manners,” he calls after you.

You drag Rafe back inside as JJ and John B get back into JJ’s van, the tires screeching as they drive away.

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★taglist: @ietss, @momoewn, @blairsblg (italics means i couldn’t tag you!)

if you would like to be tagged for any future parts (if i make them), please reply to this post!

part two is here!

[luveternals]

pairing: none (because I don't know who to put since is 5am) rating: mature, MDNI. cw: a bad man tries to do bad things to a minor (or failed attempted SA), don't worry you save the day and there are no details. reader isn't human. incubi (or demons feeding on desire). a/n: I don't know what vibes the warnings give you but it's probably not that bad. probably. It 5am and I slept 3 hours, it's proof read, but I'm out of touch with the world. oh and yeah, this blog isn't dead :) heads up, i'm not gonna be active like at the start. what a surprise! i'd spend my life writing cringe in here if I could, but I need money. ~ ~ ~

It's past midnight, when you find yourself standing deep in the alley; the scent is so strong, you can smell it out here. You breath in and swallow the thick taste of sweet and spice that invades all your senses. Your tail twitches behind you, sharp and lethal, then slaps the floor, showing your growing tension. You step forward and shove back the sudden urge to slam the door open. The scent is stronger now, reaching deep inside your core and promesing a delicious meal.

It makes your skin crawl.

You stab your claws into the door handle and twist your hand, separating the cheap metal from the old wood with a single, smooth flick of your wirst.

The moment you push the door open, it creaks and your stomach growls. Hot desire and sweet arousal dominate the room latching deep into your hunger and pulling you closer, saliva pulling into your mouth. It tempts you to follow your instincts, to let your nature guide your will.

Disgusting.

There's a bang against a wall, on the floor above you, then someone groans. And your body moves before your brain can register the action. You rush up the stairs and bursts in the room at the end of the hallway. The scent is at its strongest here, and you see red.

There, deep in the room, a man stares at you from where he's hunched over a boy. You hiss at the sight and, with only a few quick strides, tear him away from the boy. You throw him across the room and onto the floor and bares your teeth at him. "You dare touch what's mine?" you growl.

He scrambles back, eyes wide in fear. The color has drained from his face, arousal and delight turned into terror and confusion. There's blood dripping on the floor under him. A similar, smaller stain dripping from your claws.

"Get lost! I see you again and I will make you choke on the very joke you have between your legs."

The filth stumbles onto his feet and runs out the door without a single word, pale and sweaty. When you know he's rushing down the stairs, you hope to hear him trip and fall and never get up.

You almost follow to make true of your threat, when a shaky breath from behind you catches your attention.

Your mind clears in an instant and the moment you whip around a thin body crashes into your chest, arms flying around your large body.

"I've got you," you whisper gently. You arms circle around the boy's frail form to pull him closer.

"I didn't mean to," he whimpers as he clings onto you.

"He's gone," you tell him as you caress his back with careful strokes.

"I didn't," he sobs, "mean to!"

"Hush, little one. I know," you pull away, just enough so you can cup his face with your hand, "it's okay, I know."

He lean against your touch, tears wetting your hand.

"Let's go home. Shall we?" you lean down and kiss his forehead.

He nods and, finally, finally, the two of you leave that hell of a place.

The boy is silent for most of the trip back, holding onto your arm for dear life. You arrive home and he climbs in your bed and you only wrap your arms around him and pull him in a tight hug without protest.

From that night on, you don't let him out of your sight. The boy goes on with his days as normally as he can, but his struggle to keep in control is as clear as day.

One morning, you find him hugging tightly at his pillow, squirming against it. He whimpers and humps against the pillow, eyes shining in shame when he notices he's not alone. He scrambles away and hides his face in his hands, when you step in his room and sit at the edge of his bed.

"I'm sorry," he sobs, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

You lean over the bed and reach for him to place a gentle hand on the top of his head. The boy flinched at the touch but doesn't pull away, "no, little one. This is who you are, now," you say. "Come here," you add and pat your leg.

The boy shifts and rubs the back of his hands over his eyes, wiping away the tears. He blinks up at you as you lifts him up and seat him on your lap. He leans against your chest and rest his head under your chin.

You hug him for a short moment, before you feel him shift restlessly. You stroke his hair and plant a kiss on the side of his head, "lay back in your bed," you whispers, "don't fight it. I'll come back in a bit to check on you."

The other shakes his head and grips on the front of your clothes, "I don't want to."

"The more you fight against it, the worst it'll get, child. Are you sure?"

A single sob slips out of his lips and he barely nods his head, "stay."

You try to shift but the other clings onto you with an iron grip. You coo at him and pet his head, then move again to lay down on the bed, with him on your chest.

The boy squirms and trembles against you as you two lay there until his body just gives up and he falls asleep, exhausted.

You cuddle him close, his small form pressed firmly against your chest. His body still has a long way before it stops developing, and you fear he might not get through it.

As an incubus yourself, you know how overwhelming and dangerous the hunger can be, and you can only imagine how it is for him. You were born a demon, while he has only just been turned into one against his will. He lived his life as a simple human and now he's going through his first hunger. Being a teenager doesn't help, the boy's hormones are unstable. You can only guess how his body was affected by it all.

He nuzzles his face against your chest in his slumber, a small whine coming out of his parted lips. You watches him sleep, caress your knuckles against the boy's soft cheek, and think. You know you will have to teach him how to feed on people's lust eventually, but you also know the other won't take it well. The boy is a child with a naive and innocent heart, and the thought of hurting or using people for his psrsonal needs scares him to no end.

The following days go on quietly. His hormones seem to settle and he is able to keep them at bay, for most of the time. You help him through the night, when his hunger grows stronger. You don't do anything but hold him close against your chest, whisper reassurance again his ear and and draw invisible lines against his back, but this, at least, seems to help.

Incubi feed only on human energy so the arousal of another demons doesn't affect them. But, the boy is not a pure-blooded, and this makes things different. He's not as tempting as any other pure human, but you make sure to feed yourself full before getting anywhere close to him, especially at night.

In the worse of the hunger, he would just hump a little against you. It shows you he has better control than you first imagined, so you simply stare at the ceiling and endure it for him. Because this is worse for him than it is for you. It's awkward and it makes you sick in the stomach, neither of you has the strength to face it, but it helps and you're not going to starve him. Human food helps only to a certain point.

During the day, the two of you travel with your heads bowed as you hunt down for the monster that ruined this poor boy's life. You have to keep away from the crowd, hiding in the woods or creeping through dingy alleys. You can see the frown on his face as you stir him away at the sound of people. He doesn't say, but it hurts him. You know. You can see it in the way he throws subtle glances over his shoulder, feel it in the way his feet's stumble when you guide him away from the voices. The loneliness that emanates from him tastes raw and bitter, and the desire in him is sickening sweet.

You slip a hand around his shoulders as you guide him gently to turn the corner, away from the people, away from the world.

Incubi don't hunt solely in the night, some people can't contain themselves even in the brightest of hours. You don't want another innocent person to turn into a lust-hungry leech because of him. You don't think the boy could survive the guilt.

× × ×

You tie a cloak around your neck but stop in the mid of adjusting the hood at the sight of your tiny companion.

"Get ready, child. It's time for us to leave," you say and pull the hood over your head.

"Okay," his soft tone has your full attention on him.

You sit next to him on the bed and place a gentle hand on top of his head, "I know this is more than overwhelming, but we need to be strong if we want to put an end to it."

"I can't do this," the boy whisper with a broken whimper, hands going up to wipe at his eyes.

"We will. I'm here to help you," you say, petting his head, "we'll find them and put an end to this all."

When he looks up at you, you are met with bright green eyes staring up at you. You have to look away for a moment, the sight somehow too overwhelming. When you turn back to him again, his gaze has only gotten more intense and you cup his face in your hands. "I will burn the world for you if I have to"

The smile that spreads across his lips is small and cautious and yet, but the hope that shines in his eyes makes his expression the spit image of the irritating grin his father flashed you the moment your growl meant for him was out of irritation and not of hatred.

You can almost hear his words ringing in your memories, "I know you care for me, pet."

You take the cloak that hangs from the back of the chair and pull it over the child's shoulder. You tie it around his neck and give him the tiniest smile, "remember what I told you the day after the accident?"

The child sighs but nods.

"We'll stop the bad guys from doing this to others and save the kingdom from doom. Make your father proud."

"Was he really a hero?"

You can't help but huff a chuckle. "The stories you hear about your father are not just fairytales. I should know, I was there."

"You fought in the Great War?" the boy blinks, "you never said."

You give him an hesitant nod and stand, your mind rushes with the memories of those days. A dark year for the kingdom. The end a painful millenia for you.

Your eyes fall onto the distracted and fidgety figure sitting on the bed. Your freedom came with a price.

"Hey, uncle," he says when he notices your eyes on him.

"Again with the uncle?" you sigh, exasperated.

"When will you show me it?"

You pause and look at him with an unreadable expression, "no."

"I'm not a child anymore and— and—"

"You're not a monster," you say, with a firm tone, tired of this conversation again, but ready to defend him from his self deprecating mind, again and again and again.

"Neither are you!" he shouts, only to sink in himself, eyes wide with horror at his own outburst. He drops his gaze onto the floor. "Neither are you…" he repeats softly, his voice no louder than an hesitant whisper. "I don't— I've never… I just want to see the real you."

His words render you speechless, but the moment the silence stretches for a minute too long, you turn to hide your money pouch inside the internal pocket of your cloak, only so you don't have to meet his gaze. "No."

He drops the topic as he always does. He's quiet, pensive and slightly pouty, but follows you out the room and out the building without protest.

You fetch your horse from the stables build on the side of the small tavern where you slept the night before, and have him climb on it as soon as you're out the gates.

A soul is like a compass for an incubus. The moment it makes a wish, desire sparks inside it and a demon like you can latch onto it and never let go. This is what made you dangerous during the war, what had people seek you and repel you in equal desperation. When an incubus is free to roam the lands no place is safe to hide.

Unless you can control yourself.

It's a rare skill, but it exists and you grit your teeth when you scent the air. The lead you've been following is faint either from distance of lack of strength. You're loosing them.

"Are you okay, uncle?" the boy asks and reaches as hand to grab the fabric covering your shoulder.

"Again with the uncle?" you ask, but it's soft and you reach up to give his knee a reassuring squeeze. "This way."

You lead his horse westward, the rising sun shining at your backs as you leave it behind.

~ ~ ~ comment, reblog and/or follow. this blog feeds off feedback, don't just like or it'll die again!

[sscieloz]

Mystery of Love

Hirai Momo x Member!reader

Synopsis: the group’s comeback is approaching. There’s a full day of shootings waiting ahead of you. You should rest, but you can’t sleep.

Warnings: hurt/comfort. reader talks about her feelings.

Word count: 2.5k

Notes: I AM STILL HERE ! not my best, but still ^^

Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Pt.3 | Pt.4 | Pt.5 | Pt.6

—

Sometimes your thoughts were so loud inside your head you were sure everyone could hear them too. 

They were constant reminders of how everything was wrong in your life. The way you dealt with your loved ones, your daily routine, the way your brain worked, the words you chose to use in a conversation… everything was just deeply wrong. It was a constant reminder of how much you managed to mess up by just existing.

You could feel the familiar feeling starting to cripple your skin, followed by a million needles poking you at the same time. Yet, you knew that no matter how much you scrubbed, scratched, and hurt yourself, such feelings would never disappear. 

Said knowledge doesn’t keep you from running your nails all over your arms and abdomen, of course. At least the burning sensation was a vivid reminder that you was still hanging on. You were still alive; in Seoul, at the dorms, existing. You were not a ghost, and there was still hope. 

Like a mantra, you whispered the words in the dark, running your hands through your face to calm yourself down. The pressure worked, but that uneasy feeling still lingered, guilt-tripping your guts.

It’s been nearly six months since the episode, shouldn’t you feel any better already? You’ve been following your diet religiously, attending therapy twice a week, and working on reaching out whenever you felt one of your crises coming up— yet it seemed like it was all in vain. Despite all of your efforts, you still felt so wrong. 

How scary is it, to know that the anxiety was carved deep in your bones as part of who you were? 

Terrifying, indeed. 

You’ve done a great job convincing the girls of your progress, reassuring them there was no need to push their first comeback of the year. You told them it was fine to attend photoshoots, rehearsals, mv shootings, and go through promotions without fuss. 

Which was the truth, in a way. The staff were always kind and understanding to you, kind as they encouraged you to take short breaks after every hour or so. You felt seen, along with the strength and protection your unnies provided.

However, going to any pre-recorded events was still something scary. Especially one as important as Music Bank, where Onces would be ogling you with such attentive eyes. Not judging, naturally, but staring with their eyes full of hope… you couldn’t disappoint them, either. Not your fans, who loved you unconditionally, and your sisters, who have been nothing but patient and protective throughout these last months. They’ve done so much for you, who had nothing to give in return. 

Naturally, the girls would understand if you chose to be absent. They’ve told you so repeatedly, reassuring situation is completely understandable and that it’s incredible that you’re even participating in the comeback, but you know how much it hurts them to not be complete as a group. Without you, something is missing, even if it’s hard to understand what you could possibly add to these women, who already have everything. 

Joining them in their comeback was an honor, and you wouldn’t skip it for anything in the world. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do to have your unnies happy. 

The van will pick you up in the morning, so they’re all currently resting. And you’re exhausted— crushingly so, which is an easy thing to notice with no more than a quick look. Your new sleeping pills did not make the bags under your eyes go away, and you’re still bony, a shallow of the smiley, reserved maknae you once were.

Once again, your breaths grow rapidly, the pitch-black ceiling getting smaller with each passing minute, shrinking enough to trap your body inside the walls of your bedroom. You try to control your breathing by taking deep breaths to calm yourself down, just like your unnies usually do. Your apartment is too high up to hear the whistle of the trees or the noise of crickets, but somehow the stars in quiet night are enough. Those same stars, shining so bright in the late hours, remind you so much of the girls whom you share a home and a life with— your most loved ones, your soulmates. Let us in, Y/n, please. Let us help. they begged you, so loud in their silence. It pained them to give you space, as you’re well aware. If they could, they’d just wrap you up in a bubble and protect you from any sorrows. 

If only they could. 

You’re not alone. You don’t have to struggle by yourself. You can come to us.

With that in mind, you drop your covers and leave your bedroom, walking to the corridor in quiet, unhurried steps. It’s only once you reach the third room on the left that your long, delicate fingers brush the door, with barely any force. It opens easily, thanks to their no-locking policy, and you observe the room for a moment before settling in. 

Momo and Nayeon share a bedroom, just like old times. The room is vast— big enough for two queen-sized beds, and visibly messy. Clothes hang everywhere, either on the ground or left in a pile in some of the open drawers. You squint your eyes to adjust yourself to the darkness and notices the nail supplies cluttered on their tea table. Letters, legos, stuffed animals… so many objects that make you nearly lose balance many times, as you make your way to a pitch-black dot lost amidst the thick covers of Momo’s fluffy bed. 

You don’t mind, though. If anything, you find yourself giggling quietly, amused by how the pair had turned the bland room into a home within a few weeks. 

Surprisingly, it didn’t take long for the members to accustomed to living together once again. It had been years since they’d decided to live apart, but your episode had made them make the decision almost immediately. You needed them, so they’d be there for you 24/7, guarding and offering their best support. Sure, your new apartment was much more luxurious and spacious than any of their old dorms, but it was just as cozy and filled with love. 

And you needed that. You didn’t think so, naturally— fiercely advocating against their decision, terrified of making your bandmates change their lifestyle because of yourself, but they gave you no choice. In fact, you felt much like a baby as they moved things over and over, sitting down on the big couch while they did all the boring and hard work. 

It was nice to have the house noisy again, you noted. After so many years of living by yourself, you discovered you liked a little bit of chaos, especially those that came from your loved ones. You needed that. Once again, your unnies proved that they knew you best. 

You moved carefully to not wake Momo up, even though the dancer sleeps like a rock. Lifting the covers, you lowered your body until you were lying down in your unnie’s bed, staring at the older woman’s soft features. 

Momo was perfect in every way, and she was so _strong_, too. Not only with her toned muscles, she was a true pillar, taking care of her members so subtly they barely noticed. They were all drawn to her when things got rough. With her sleepish smile and round eyes, her easy laugh was like a beacon on a heavy storm. Talking to her was not only easy, it felt so freeing. You would always forget about your troubles for a few minutes, whenever they were together.

Without even noticing, your eyes start to water—you were so loved, and what for? What have you done to deserve such a honorable feeling? It’s hard to suppress your hiccups as tears start to water Momo’s pillow. Then, almost instinctively, Momo’s arms are around you, holding and bringing you closer until your noses are nearly touching. 

You focus on Momo’s eyes, which are still only half-open, and on the sounds she makes, purring as she tries to shake the sleep from her body so she can stay awake. Her hand goes to your hair immediately, fingers running through your scalp in circles. The delicate movements of Momo’s fingers differ from your usual clumsiness, but it’s so soothing that you calm down immediately.

“Can’t sleep, baby?” You shake your head at the sound of her raspy voice, with trembling lips. Momo knows the crying will soon get worse if she doesn’t do anything, so she holds you closer, her grip extra strong, “No no, don’t cry. It’s okay, you’re okay… we’ll help you.”

It’s a routine you’re used to, by now. At first, it made Momo nervous to see you in such agony, sobbing so hard you choked over nothing, desperate for air. Then, Mina explained to her that it was a way of releasing the heavy feelings you kept bottled up for so long, which put Momo’s nerves a little bit at ease. Still, it broke her heart to see you hurting. Her sweet little maknae, who’s always been so, graceful, and quiet…

Yet, Momo couldn’t do anything to take all this pain from your chest. She’d take it all in a blink, were that possible. She’d take all of your sorrows and keep them to herself. 

Instead, Momo brushes the wet strands of your hair away from your face, greeting you with a sleepy smile. “Hello, baby girl. Are you nervous about tomorrow?”

Your nod is so subtle Momo finds herself brushing her eyes, wondering if she’d imagined it. There’s a big pause, and the dancer starts to drool as she fights sleep to listen. 

“I…” You speak, and it’s like you’re a trainee all over again: small and anxious and so filled with doubts all you want to do is curl up and disappear forever. You gulp hard to suppress another sob. “I c-an’t do it, unnie. Music bank, tomorrow. I can’t. It’s just, there will be so many people and so many cameras and the fans don’t  know I’m weak, and if I fuck the group’s image once again we’ll never be invited to anything ever and it’s going to be all my fucking faul—" 

You bury your head in Momo’s chest, unable to look at the dancer as you open up your fresh wounds. It hurts to know the amount of hate and backlash they group has gotten because of your scandal. You still didn’t even know who leaked your hospital chart, but JYP did a good work of putting it all under the carpet. And to make all of the denying real, you had to look put together to the public. 

You don’t remember the last time you looked like anything but a crystal piece of art, full of cracks and ready to shatter into a million pieces. 

Lithe fingers touch your skin once again, moving without rush to not startle or overwhelm you. Momo knows what you need: her presence alone is already so comforting. You get a glimpse of her short, black nails as the older girl runs them over your arms, then your torso. 

“Do you want to try mirroring my breathing, baby? You always do it so well.” She asks and you nod immediately. With your face against Momo’s chest, you follow the rhythm of your unnie’s heartbeats, focusing on that alone. “That’s it, dear. Good Job.” 

Everything is suddenly pitch black: there’s only Momo’s loving embrace and the way your bodies are naturally tangled, so close to each other that two become one and your sorrows slowly dissipate amidst the warmth. Love does heal, you’re proof of that. You know so because, even if your progress isn’t nearly as you’d envisioned it, it’s still there. You’re slowly working to recovery, no matter how much your stubborn self denies it. And it’s much due to their help: your bandmates, your loves.

Momo’s thumbs brush your cheeks, washing your tears away as the minutes turn your crying into faint sniffles. “You’ve been so brave, Y/n. I’m serious. All the effort you’ve been pouring into our new comeback… it’s impressive. But please, please know you don’t have to do anything you don’t feel ready to do. We can wait, baby.”

And you knows they won’t pressure you by any means. Although sometimes, you wish they did. 

“I know, it’s just…” You sigh, untangling yourself from Momo so you can press your elbows onto the bed and run your hands all over your face, huffing with frustration. “I want to do it, unnie. I really do. I just don’t want to break in front of everyone and destroy our group’s image.” 

I don’t want to disappoint you again.

That’s what it was. Frustrating and tiring, to feel so unsure over something you’ve done a thousand times before.

“Y/n, look at me.” The dancer’s tone is imposing, so commanding you have no choice but to oblige immediately. “You’re the strongest person I know, and I admire you so much. We see you trying every day, baby, and it’s where we find our strength, too,” She adds, just as quietly, “On seeing you try. It makes me— makes us try to be better every day, too. For you. We love you, so much. And if it’s what you want to do, we’ll be with you every second of it.” 

How could you inspire them? It doesn’t seem possible. Not when you’re so weak, vulnerable and a complete mess. Your unnies are all so graceful and certainly much better at everything they do. You don’t understand Momo’s words, but it’s late, and you’re too tired to ask. So you simply nod, trying hard not to pout. 

It’s a different kind of sadness, one of not being able to give what your unnies so desperately want. The hopelessness is carved so deep in your bones you can’t do anything but sigh, shuffle, and turn until you’re staring at the ceiling and your hands are hidden under the covers, so Momo doesn’t notice how much they tremble.

“You can’t give me what I need.” You can’t fix what’s broken inside. You want to scream. I think I can’t, either.

“I can’t. I’m sorry for that.” She stops, staring down at you. Her dark orbs are filled with nothing but the purest form of love as she kisses your forehead and whispers, because it’s just the two of you together and the night is quiet, ever so private. “But I can love you.”

Those same loving arms evolve you again, and no more words are spoken. You don’t need to say anything else— no words suffice, not in any language. For now, Momo and you grow content falling asleep together, soothed by each other’s breathing and the promise of taking one step at a time. 

In Momo’s arms, you feel safe, respected, and loved. You fall asleep thinking you might be able to go through all of this, as long as you’re together.

[strrykais]

lie with you - not a date 📖

word count 1k.? (i lost track)

jisung was shitting bricks. he rarely has people come into his sanctuary, and much less girls. he has only had a total number of 3 girls in here. one his mom, two his ex and the last was you.

you made jisung really nervous, he fully couldn’t understand why. he kind of just pinned it on his social anxiety and went along his day. you were always so kind to him and you never really pushed him to do things that made him uncomfortable. in all honesty it started the day yall got stuck in the elevator. thats when the little feeling in his stomach started to form.

so with 7:30 creeping up on him, jisung is pacing the apartments living room trying to calm his beating heart.

“ji you okay? you look like you are gonna throw up.” donghyuck says walking out the smush room getting it ready for his one nighter.

“yeah im fine.” jisung quickly dismisses donghyuck wiping his sweaty hands on the front of his jeans.

“don’t be so nervous its just yn. you will be fine.” he says patting his hand on jisungs shoulder. “its almost 7:30 you should probably head down there.”

“yeah you are right. it will be fine!” jisung wasnt so convinced. grabbing his belongings, he ops to take the stairs to buy him some more time before he had to face the music.

the knock on the door doesn’t even catch you by surprise. jisung was always punctual, so when you opened the door the wind blowing the small pieces of your hair back, you give a bright smile to jisung on the other side.

“come in, let me grab my jacket. im not sure how cold you keep it in the studio!” you say with a big smile of excitement. you loved that jisung was letting you into his art life. you wanted to show him you cared so of course when he offered the opportunity to see his studio you couldnt say no.

the walk to jisung’s studio was quiet, but in a calming way. jisung was too focus on not making a fool of himself. he was worried he would say the wrong thing and have you running for the hills. but he knew you would never especially when you basically watched him embarrass himself in the elevator last time.

you were more focus on your boyfriend, he hasn’t messaged you back since you told him you were helping out a friend. was he upset? mad at you? you weren’t sure why. you both could of been together tonight but when work calls he always answers. before you could go further into self doubt jisungs smooth voice pulls you out.

“im sorry were you saying something?” you asked. jisung gives you a small smile, pointing up at the skies the beautiful reds, pinks and blues mixing. “my favorite part of the day, its always been my favorite to paint.”

“crazy because this is my favorite time too. right before the stars come out.” jisung gives out a breathy laugh leading the both of you to what you assume is the studio.

it was a lot smaller than you envisioned it, in the corner sat a desk with scattered sketches and charcoal. on the other was an unfinished painting of a beautiful sunset.

“its cozy in here” you say breathing in the smell of the chemicals of the paint he had left out which now was hard as rock stuck to the palette.

you continued to walk around the studio jisung close behind. the last of the sun shinning through the large windows showing the outside world. you suddenly stop, causing jisung to slightly bump into you. he mumbles out a sorry but you didn’t hear him your eyes caught something.

“you haven’t used the paintbrushes i got you? they are nice you should use them!” you say reaching out to softly touch the bristles.

rubbing the back of his neck, jisung nervously laughs. “yeah i didnt want to ruin something like this. it was from you and i wanna treasure it.”

you smile at him “its a gift for you to use, if you really mess them up that bad ill just get you some new ones okay?”

“promise?” jisung helds out his pinky. you glance down at his much larger hand and wrapped your smaller pinky around his “promise.”

jisung smiled and lead you to the desk of unfinished charcoal drawing, “im working on shadowing with charcoal wanna be model” he says looking at you while you stare at the beautiful drawings he had laid around.

“yeah how do you want me.” you perked up ready to listen to whatever jisung said. ears turning red, he leads you to a stool and sits you down.

you guys hung out well past midnight chatting and playing around in his studio. he showed you the art in mastering charcoal drawings and on the way home you showed him the star constellations in the sky.

previous | masterlist | next

a/n : i was eating in the first half… maybe writing isnt for me. this was kinda bad….

tags : @onlyhyunjin

[lunarmoves]

May I offer small what if scenario (because this au keeps me thinking about so many possibilities that could happen in this world and they are overflowing in my head gdjsvsb) ? It doesn't align exactly with the timeline so far, but it's more of a brief thought I had.

What if at one point when the uprising starts, y/n was still in the city when more serious fights start to break out but it's at a point where human protestors are still siding with robots to fight for their rights. So public fights are filled with chaos and it's hard to tell who's on who's side.

So what if y/n is trying to get out of the increasingly hostile environment, but to do so they have to cross the very real battlefield that has broken out on the streets. But when doing so they manage to spot a familiar figure among the chaos. They see Sun and, ignorant of what he's been doing since getting out, they try to reach him to maybe try and convince him to get out of there with them, concerned for his safety. Sure, he did seem to hate them to the point they felt compelled to leave, but this situation surely guarantees putting differences aside so they can get to safety together right? They have to admit to themselves they still care about him.

So they make their way to him, nearly losing him a bunch of times as they hide from and dodge all the struggles going around them, his brigthly colored rays the only beacon they have to get to him.

And then they manage to reach him. His back is turned to them and they're so close, but they're afraid yelling out his name will get them unwanted attention, so they instead try to get Sun's attention by grabbing his arm.

And then it happens so fast. Sun turns around like lightning at the touch and it's only because they flinch back that they are alive. They still are struck with something sharp (maybe on the arm that had reached for Sun, maybe their side. The dramatic part of me imagines it's their face that gets hit though) and they stumble back, falling to the ground, holding a bleeding wound and looking up in disbelief, finally taking in Sun's appearance as he stops and also notices who exactly it is he just slashed at.

nonnie i need you to know this ask has been plaguing me literally all day omg. of COURSE you can offer what if scenarios!!! i will say that anything i have written so far in the bleeding wires au timeline is not cemented in stone. anything can change depending on what i feel fits/matches well with the kind of story i want to tell! and above all else, we are exploring different ideas and scenarios together <3 picking robot superiority sun apart and discovering what makes him tick c:

(as per usual, cw for apocalypse elements, such as death/murder, violence, and blood)

so... i'm imagining in this scenario that you do not see sun on the tv news, therefore you have no idea he's alive. after all, you think he's dead--or the robot equivalent of dead anyways--based on what you've seen of the pizzaplex burning down.

the window for you managing to escape the city is getting smaller and smaller with every second that ticks by. you can hear the chaos from your apartment--the screams, the explosions, the car alarms and mechanical whirring of robotic parts. you peek beyond your curtains and are unable to make sense of what you're seeing. there are humans fighting humans. robots fighting robots. humans fighting robots. robots fighting humans. it is an utter mess and you just know that you need to get the hell out.

keep your head down and run, is what you tell yourself when you slip on your bag filled with all the supplies you can fit in it. most of the people in your building have either evacuated or barricaded themselves inside. you make your way down to the first floor and take a side exit.

everything is louder, with you in the open. there is smoke in the air--hazy and stifling--from electrical fires that have erupted on the streets. you creep down the alley you're in until you reach the front edge of the building so you can peer out at one of the roads.

the fighting is close. to your right, you can see the blank faces of service bots with jagged arms that they use to attack some humans using a garbage lid as a shield. past them, there are other humans trying to hot wire a car while another robot stands guard in front of them. to your left, there is nothing but carnage. your eyes glaze over the blood and oil splattered across the sidewalks, the bodies that you can see propped up against buildings. swallowing down the nausea, you decide to stick to the alleys--at least until you reach the main highway, which you know you can follow until you exit the city.

it's--hard. staying out of sight. there is a constant mechanical droning in your ears that keeps you on your toes, ever so wary that a robot's creeping up behind you. in the far distance, you think you hear rapid gunfire. sweat gleams across your forehead and runs down the sides of your face. the smallest of sounds makes you flinch and duck behind garbage cans or dumpsters. you do your best to stay away from the center of the city--where it is inevitably the most chaotic--but somehow you step out of an alley right into a catastrophic intersection not too far from the precise area you'd been trying to avoid. and the worst part? you have to cross it to get to the highway.

as you stand there, heart in your throat while your gaze flickers rapidly across the scene to pick out the safest escape route, you catch a glimpse of something bright far to your right. yellow and red. your eyes latch onto sharp rays and you swear, you swear even amidst all the gunfire and screams, you can hear the distant jingling of bells.

it's sun.

you are frozen in place, staring at him. your grip tightens on the straps of your bag. and you wonder if you are perhaps imagining things. if maybe you hit your head somewhere by accident, or if the smoke saturating the air has gotten to you. but no, you realize, the longer you stare at him. it's really him. you thought he had perished in the pizzaplex fire, nothing but a pile of melted scrap and wires.

you were wrong.

you don't know what to do, for a heart-stopping moment. your mind races as you plaster yourself in the shadow of a nearby store. you... never thought you would ever see him again. you are reminded of the way you had just... left. tired, as you were, of his passive aggression and underhanded comments. the way it seemed like you were never wanted, in the daycare. you're... not sure if you can even face him. not sure if you want to, for that matter.

(he had broken your heart, in a way, in that little daycare. never seemed to really like you, no matter how much you tried with him. tried to get him to understand what he was feeling, tried to be his friend. he never cared for you, even if you had cared for him)

but--as you take in all the destruction around you, the humans bleeding out on the street, the robots tearing themselves apart--you come to the realization that you can't just leave him here. it would mean inevitable death, for him. there is no mercy from any side in this chaotic revolution. maybe the two of you can escape together. maybe he can look past what you are to work with you. deep inside you know you don't want to see him get destroyed. the past year of your life grips tightly onto your shoulders, haunting you even now.

it's like all the sound around you has been reduced to an incessant hum. your sight closes in on sun, defending himself from some robots.

and then you step away from the shadows and into the chaos of a battlefield.

it is the hardest thing you've ever had to do. ducking behind cars and the broken bodies of robots. sliding past humans on the brink of death as they clutch at wounds that pool blood underneath them. dodging the errant swings of arms shaped like knives and axes. the stench--the stench is what gets to you, making your stomach churn. but you don't let it sway you.

all you see are those bright, bright rays.

closer and closer. closer and closer.

and then, you're stepping up behind him, voice caught in your throat as you lay a hand on his arm. your heart beats loudly within your ears.

it happens quickly, too quickly for you to process.

one second you're gripping his arm. and the next, you're automatically flinching back when he snaps himself around. there's an eruption of pain along your cheek, the sudden gush of something hot as you cry out and stumble back. your feet trip over themselves and you feel the rough impact of your tailbone against the concrete ground.

(the scar that will form from this injury is ugly and jagged without proper treatment. you never find peace in your reflection. you will have nightmares of this for months)

your hand clutches at your cheek, but you aren't focused on the pain right now. instead, you stare wide-eyed up at sun.

sun, who stands before you with his head blocking his namesake behind him, casting an odd halo of light around his faceplate. who stares down at you with wild optics and pinprick pupils atop a savage, cruel smile. whose hands and arms and pants are drenched in ruby red.

you stare and you stare. there is only you and him, in the middle of the end of society as you know it. you don't dare breathe.

and then his pupils dilate. he blinks down at you, and for a moment you think he looks taken aback. but you are in a state of shock, your eyes lingering on his sharp fingers. lethal.

("attack the ones in power first, then the weaker ones," sun tells you one quiet day in the daycare. you tilt your head at him in curiosity and he only grins at you, something sharp lining his mouth. "from then on, carnage.")

you should not be here.

your name slips from his mouth and it's like a straight injection of adrenaline coursing through your veins as you realize that you need to get out of there. it's not safe, he's not safe, you should have left.

he says your name again, one of his hands lifting as he takes a step closer to you. there is something in his expression you cannot place, something that is simultaneously soft and angry and longing. and that's all the sign you need.

(sun stands there, looking down at you as you clutch your cheek. and he wonders if he is imagining things. if he hit his head somewhere, or got his wires tangled in the elation of being free. he stares down at you, gaze flickering all over your face as he attempts to decipher what he is seeing in your expressions.

horror fright awe wonder awe awe awe.

he thought you were gone. that he would never see you again. but- you're here. before him after he has thought about you day after day after day. loathing you for leaving him in the daycare. longing to see you again. you left him, you left him in that place. he thought you were friends. you left him feeling like his insides were all scrambled as this want gnawed at his chassis

grab grab grab do not let go go go)

you bolt, scrambling back and up so you can run.

you don't dare look back. your breathing becomes ragged, your heart thunders in your chest. you don't stop, not even when your name gets screamed out behind you--loud enough, it feels, to disrupt the chaos around you.

"come back!" sun roars, but you are long, long gone. and you will be, for years to come.

[strawurberries]

Oh my god! Berry I had an idea and I had to come running to you with it cause I thought you'd enjoy it too (and cause your writings awesome) but,

A Soulmate AU where you can hear the other person's thoughts?

With Vash, Wolfwood and nai please! (Separate obviously cause I honestly think having all three as soulmates would just be too much xD)

Whether headcannons or a little scenario thingy I leave up to you 😁

Hope you have an awesome day! - 🍰anon

Soulmate Head cannons

Summary: Head cannons with little drabbles about Soulmates <3

Authors Note: I'm sorry this took so long! Finals are finally over so I can focus on writing :) I hope you all enjoy!! Also I wouldn't mind having all three as soul mates. . . but ya know 😂

Warnings: Self-hate, mild sexual themes, angst, cursing, mentions of religion and murder.

Vash didn’t know what an ocean looked like—deep, painfully blue, and so cooling yet full of dangers unimaginable—but he assumed it had to be something similar to the sight before him: sand dunes rose and fell like the chest of some great giant, tumbling across the horizon without thought or remorse. Compared to the vastness of sand before him, he was nothing but a speck of dust—smaller than the grains of sand that covered this desolate, prison-like planet. Part of him was comforted by that fact, knowing that in the grand scheme of things he would be nothing but a passing memory—no one out there to judge him, hurt him, or even see him. Yet he also hated the loneliness of it all. Looking out and seeing no life but himself, it only served to remind him what he was. 

Vash the Stampede:

“Shit!”

He paused, feet sinking into the dry sand below. A semi-cool wind hit the back of his neck. “Hello?” his voice echoed out into the world around—hello. . . hello. . . . . hello. Nothing responded and he adjusted the strap over his shoulder. He must really be losing it now. He had suffered from heat stroke before, had experienced delusions, and been near deaths’ door due to the pounding suns above, so, unfortunately, he knew what might be happening.

He stood still for a moment, longer. . . nothing. Okay, perhaps this was a one time delusion and he’ll be fine.

“How the hell am I going to get out of this alive?!”

He whirled around, looking for any sign of life—the person of whom the disembodied voice belonged to. After a moment he confirmed his suspicions. There was no one around. He groaned and covered his face, thinking to himself: “the heat must be getting to me. . .”

“What?”

He blinked, “What?”

“Who are you?”

“Who are you?” he yelled out into the vastness of the desert. No one responded. “What the hell?”

“Great! I’m getting shot at and I’m hallucinating!”

“What is happening right now?!”

“You tell me! You’re the voice in my head!”

“No, you’re the one in my head!”

The first time you two met—and by that, I mean: the first time you two heard each other—was a mess. You were busy running for your life, and he was wandering through the emptiness of a sandy sea. Both of you, due to different reasons, thought you were going insane. You thought the adrenaline of the situation finally made you snap, and that this run-in with danger took the last bit of your sanity. Vash, on the other hand, swore the heat was out to kill him again and he ignored you for the most part—no use in talking to a delusion. It was only after you both reached safety and had a night's rest, that you both came to realize this was something more than hallucinations.

“Uh. . . so. . . are you real?” Vash thought to himself as he washed his face in the sink, the morning sun starting to make the hotel room feel like an oven.

“Of course I am! . . . are you?”

From then on you two talked a lot, and bonded immensely considering the other’s deepest, darkest and most intimate parts are on display. 

Vash tried desperately to keep the fact that he’s a plant and an outlaw a secret, but simply thinking about how he wanted to not think about it, made him think about it. And, therefore, you heard it all within the first five minutes of knowing him.

“You’re Vash the Stampede! The humanoid typhoon?!”

“Uh. . . no?” He thought about how stupid of a lie that is.

“I can hear your thoughts, Vash! You can’t lie!”

“Aw man I forgot!”

Really, Vash was terrified at first. Having someone able to hear his thoughts? It meant his act, his silly persona, was useless. He was laid bare in front of a person he didn’t know, had never seen, and wasn’t even sure if they were 100% real. No matter what lie he constructed, the truth would be sitting somewhere in his thoughts; easy to access, and even easier to talk about considering there was no way to ignore each other.

“Vash?”

He didn’t want to talk today. A mother had been killed, he had been shot in the shoulder, and ran out of town faster than he had ever known was possible. Sitting by himself in a crude rock formation, miles from any town with the moons shining down on him with pity. He wanted to be alone—to wallow, and think, and cry, and grieve for what was lost and what could never be.

“Vash, I know you're throwing a pity party right now.”

He wiped some tears from his eyes, watching the stars. 

“Vash, Vash, Vash, Vash, Vash, Vash—come on! I know you're hurting, but it wasn’t your fault. Nothing is. The whole space ship thing? Not your fault. Your brother? He’s his own person, you can’t control his actions—his decisions aren’t on you. The deaths? Inevitable, Vash. Everyone dies someday.”

“But they died because I was there!” He hated showing this side—the pain, the anger, the grief. He didn’t deserve to feel this way. His life, the wandering and suffering, was his punishment for failing to save the people he loved. He didn’t deserve comfort.

“When I finally meet you, I’m going to slap you upside the head before giving you the biggest hug you’ve ever felt.”

He blinked. “Eh?”.

After the rocky start, the weird emotional trauma bonding, and the insecurities—Vash fell hard. Having someone who could peer into his very soul? It, despite feeling so terrifying at first, made him feel so understood and. . . safe. This person has seen the very worst of him, the bottom of the barrel, and yet they chose to keep on talking to him. And, of course, normally Vash would take those emotions to the grave. He doesn’t deserve love. Whoever loves him, whoever he loves, will end up dead. But those thoughts, quite literally, are destroyed the moment they are given tangible sound. 

“I love you too, so I need you to stop thinking that I shouldn’t. Even if you keep running away—” despite the fact that he so desperately wants to meet you he’s terrified you’ll get hurt, and runs away the moment you're in a hundred mile vicinity—“I’ll still love you. And one day I’ll find you Vash. I promise that.”

He sobbed for about an hour straight after that.

He really does want to meet you, it’s the truth, but he needs to confront his fears before he can enjoy your love without guilt. 

Wolfwood:

Wolfwood couldn’t fall asleep. The lull of the bus hadn’t hit him yet, the rocking and groaning metal not a lullaby but a shrieking reminder of how far away from civilization he is. Usually he’d be passed out by now, cigarette limply hanging between his lips, but he had opted to twiddle with it between his fingers. The smoke curled around his palm, lazily rising up into the musty air of the bus. No matter how long he closed his eyes for, how many sheep he counted, or how he positioned himself, he couldn’t reach the comforting arms of sleep. Eventually he gave up, annoyed that everyone else on the bus—excluding the driver himself, thank god—had managed to peacefully drift away into their dreams.

“I’m tired. . .”

He blinked and chuckled quietly, “you and me sister.” He turned away from the window, taking a small drag of his cigarette as he turned to see who had spoken. A lady across the aisle looked at him, tilting her head. He gave a small wave and she turned away quickly. 

“Rude,” he thought for a moment before sighing. Maybe he should try to go to sleep again.

“Hello?”

He blinked and looked around. Surely someone must be sleep-talking. Right? “Wish I could be sleeping,” he looked around once more, eyes lingering on the lady across the aisle who was now starting to doze off. “This sucks.”

“Okay, I’m hallucinating now. God damn it. I knew that I shouldn’t have eaten that sandwich.”

He turned around, looking behind him, and then back to the front where the bus driver was humming a song to himself. “What. . .?” Pure confusion was all he felt. Earlier he had spent several hours in the sun, but the heat couldn’t have gotten to him this bad. . . right? Right?

“Oh God, please make this food poisoning death quick. I’m not into pain.”

Sleep deprivation must really be getting to him. This is going to be a long ride.

Chaos. Absolute chaos. 

Part of Wolfwood thought for a moment he might be getting possessed—he tossed that idea aside quickly but he did consider it for a moment before shaking his head. The other option, he thought, would have to be that the stress of trying to find the Humanoid Typhoon finally caught up to him, and he’s in the middle of a psychotic break. But he remembered hearing that you can’t be aware that you’re in psychosis so. . . where does that leave him?

“Has God really forsaken me this time?” he grumbled, stumbling off the bus and waiting for someone to toss the Punisher down to him.

“I hope not!” came the voice again, “I already have bad luck. If god hates me then I’m really a goner.”

Both of you came to the conclusion fairly quickly that there was no demon or god involved, nor were either of you dying or having a breakdown. Wolfwood, unlike Vash, accepted the situation a lot faster. He was confused and apprehensive at first, after all, no one likes showcases their true, intimate selfs—but he got over it fairly quickly. If this was what fate had given him, he would accept it. After all, it didn’t seem to be too horrible. What’s the matter with appreciating the good things in life?

When he gets bored he’d just stare off into space and annoy you—doesn’t matter what you're doing, or what he’s supposed to be doing. He’ll call your name over and over and over, or start preaching until you tell him to shut up. Sometimes, though, he will start talking about the dirtiest, strangest things you’ve ever heard of until your interest is piqued or until he can hear a reaction from you. Either way, no matter what method he chooses, you’ll eventually be talking to him.

“Here’s another quote, ‘Give your burdens to the lord. And he will take care of you. He will not permit the godly to slip and fall. Psalm 55:22’. You know, personally, I’ve always thought that bible verse—”

“Please shut up. I will literally kill you.”

“I’d like to see you try, Doll.”

His favorite pastime is annoying you, making you flustered, or straight up saying the most out of pocket shit you can ever imagine. And, the funny thing is, you always know what he’s trying to do yet he still manages to get a reaction. It doesn’t matter if he spends several minutes brainstorming before saying what he wants, and it doesn’t matter if you try and prepare yourself, he is a master at being a cocky, loveable bastard.

He does hate when you manage to get him to talk deeper about himself, when you bring in the comfort and philosophical talk. Deep down he knows this life isn’t something he wants to partake in, he doesn’t want to go down the path that has been chosen for him, but what other option does he have? 

“You don’t have to kill.”

“How am I supposed to survive if I don’t? This world is built on blood, and one person trying to make it better isn’t going to do shit.”

“Well, I actually think it’s two people trying to make it better. Can’t say I’ve ever killed anyone.”

He was slightly salty when he got that response. 

He didn’t fall first here, but he most certainly fell harder. His heart is a little petrified, and he often lets people in, but only deep enough to where they feel accepted yet can’t glance at anything too important. It’s like if he invited you over to his home, showed you the kitchen and living room, but kept every other door locked and closed. Yet you had the key and essentially broke every lock in one go. He still doesn’t know if he hates or loves it.

He also desperately wants to meet you but, like Vash, he’s terrified you’d get hurt. But his love and desire outweigh his nervousness and, besides, he’ll protect you with everything he has. If he must die for you, so be it. So, the moment he is sure of himself he asks where you are. And, of course, you knew this was coming, and he knew you knew, and you knew he knew you knew. Make sense?

“Do you want to meet in person?” he thought about how much he wanted to see them, feel them, hear them with his ears not with. . . his mind? He wasn’t really sure how this whole thing worked.

“Of course! How could I deny you when you’re practically begging?!”

“Begging? You haven’t seen me beg yet. . . and now that I think about it, I haven’t seen you beg either. That must be a pretty sight, huh?”

Bastard. He’s a bastard.

Million Knives:

Knives were pissed. No matter how loud he played the piano, or how many plants he surrounded himself with, he could not get that annoying little song out of his head. A solemn, lonesome hum that echoed through his mind like nothing he had ever heard—and it infuriated him beyond anything he had ever known. At first he had assumed it was the sound of the pipes, the mechanical building breathing with man-made life, but once he found himself in the desert, alone, he knew that wasn’t the case. It crossed his mind for a moment, a moment, that he might be having some mental issues but he quickly tossed that idea out the window. He could never have any problems like that, never. 

He brushed his fingers along the piano keys, thinking of problems past and future, thinking of what is to come and how he should deal with it all. His own thoughts, he noticed, almost drowned out the humming; that was, until, a voice blew through his troubled mind. 

“Woah, you’re a plant?”

He whirled around, ready to mame and kill whoever had managed to infiltrate his base. . . but no one was there. “Come on out now!” he seethed, “and I’ll make your death painless.”

No response but the clacking of gears and the hiss of steam.

“Audacious human,” he spit out in his mind, already thinking of different ways to kill whoever dared to address him. He began to stalk the room, eyes snapping from one corner to the next. “They can’t hide long. I’ll find them.”

“Why are you so violent? Geez. . . well, I mean I guess it makes sense but don’t you get tired of being angry all the time?” The voice trailed off and began humming that infuriating tune. A vague thought that wasn’t his came to the forefront of his mind, wondering if it was worth eating the stale bread or if he should—wait no, not him because this isn’t his thoughts—they should wait until they get paid tomorrow to eat.

He ignored the mundane thoughts and confronted the voice in his head, “you’re the one who’s been singing that idiotic song?!”

“Wow, you’re rude too. Who would’ve guessed?”

The conversation devolved very quickly after that.

To be honest, you’d be found very, very quickly. Unlike Vash, Knives won’t avoid you; and unlike Wolfwood, he won’t wait until the time is right—he’ll rush off into the desert and hunt you down in less than a week. Finding a stranger is surprisingly easy when you have infinite access to their thoughts. At first he was angry and only wanted to find you so he could cut your head off, but soon—despite his hatred for admitting this—he found you interesting.

“I’m coming to kill you, and you’re not worried at all?”

“I’ll die someday, and besides, I think I’m starting to charm you.”

“I will rip you apart.”

“Sounds sexy.”

You infuriate him on so many levels he doesn’t even know where to start. 

Actually, he does know where to start. You peer into his mind and learn everything about him and oh my god that pisses him off because now a human—a mere human!—knows everything about him: his trauma, his fears, his past, his brother. And he has now way to stop you from learning about him. Out of pure spite, though, he tries his best to learn nothing about you. . . but that plan fails quickly.

“I’m going to kill myself!” you cry out in your mind, rage edging at the tone of your words.

“Please don’t, it’ll take the joy out of me torturing you.” 

“I’m already being tortured! My boss sucks! Ugh! I’m going to kill him!”

He has a tiny, second-long urge to say he’ll kill the man for you before he literally gags with disgust. He had never been so glad someone was distracted because if you had focused on his intentions in that moment you would have teased him until he showed up on your doorstep and killed you. 

Over the course of the couple days he spent tracking you, he unwillingly came to be invested in your life and found a small amount of joy when he debated with you. 

“Humanity sucks, yes, but we can be good!”

“It doesn’t matter if you can or can’t. What matters is what you’ve done, and what you’re doing. Your potential means nothing when compared to the damage you’ve done.”

“. . . damn it why are you smart. Also, I didn’t do anything! I was just born!”

“That’s a sin in itself.”

“Okay, well, gotta call you out on that one. Being born is not a sin, also, what are you? A preacher? Jesus Christ!”

“Don’t use his name in vain.”

“What?”

After he gets over his initial repulsion and hatred he finds the look into human life interesting. You’re pitiful, weak, and disgusting yet you still push on. Why? Why? Why?

“Why not?’

“It’s useless.”

“So?”

“So. . .?”

“I got you, the great Knives, tongue tied? Wow, I can die happily now.”

Overall, it takes a while for him to fall for you. At first it’s purely rage, and then it’s curiosity, and then. . . maybe he’d call it interest. He wouldn’t fall first and he wouldn't fall that hard, but he’d still appreciate you in some capacity. 

[weaselle]

Dog Walking Post 2 of 3

In the last post, i answered @hatchan by telling the story of Jim, who, because he let one of his 8 dogs get loose, dropped the leashes to his other seven dogs to go retrieve her.

The point of that story is that even though Jim was good with dogs and loved them, he wasn't a good dog walker, because a dog walker needs to have a good head in an emergency.

One of the other guys we hired (who still works for us actually) lets call him Dave, loves dogs and has good calm energy, and he has another trait that is very important in someone who works with dogs: patience. But he's still not ideal for dog walking.

It took me a few months to understand why that was true. See, Dave is kind, and patient, and calm, and that works really well for dogs, so it really seems like Dave is very good with dogs.

But Dave doesn't actually know dogs very well. This finally clicked for me when i was finishing up my early morning walk one day as Dave arrived for work. So as we said our good mornings, i mentioned that i have been working with one of the smaller dogs (that he'd never met) on that walk because she was kind of a nervous dog who barked at pedestrians because she got anxious when we walked by other people. I asked if he would greet her because she could use a positive interaction with a stranger i could trust, to set her up for success by giving her an experience that would not set off her anxiety which would help reinforce the idea that the people that walk by us are nothing to worry about.

I said that exact thing to him, almost word for word. And he, eyes full of sympathy, heart brimming with patience and kindness, with all the best intentions in the world, greeted this small anxious dog by bending at the waist to loom over her and reaching directly for the top of her face.

That's when it clicked for me. See, even though he has a lot of qualities we look for in a dog walker that make his interactions with the average dog go really well (which fooled us into thinking he is really good with dogs) he actually doesn't really understand dogs very thoroughly. He's not able to see things from their point of view enough.

The point of these stories is that when you hire new people, it can be really hard to tell the difference between someone with good qualities for being around dogs in general, and someone with good qualities for being in charge of dogs with various needs in various situations.

Dave and Jim both had a lot of qualities you would think to look for in a dog walker. But while it can be tempting to focus on hiring someone who gets along with dogs really well, what you're actually looking for is the kind of person you would trust to take a classroom on a field trip, who also intimately understands dog behavior. They have to keep their head in an emergency, maintain control of a rowdy group, and they have to know what is going on with a dog the instant they look at that dog.

They have to be able to look at a dog and know right away "that dog is getting ready to be upset about that bike rider" or "that dog is irritated by that other dog" or "that dog sees something they think they might want to eat" or "that dog is nervous and overwhelmed". And the dog walker has to know what they are going to do about those things. Nobody is going to get this right 100% of the time, but they have to be good at it.

In my experience, if they have a basic understanding of dog behavior, if they have a knack for picking up on basic dog communication and can see things from the dog's point of view, they can develop that further on the job. You can point out the nuance of dog behaviors and communications, things like stiff body language or dog facial expressions, and just being around so much of it has honed my own aptitude in this area. If you start with a bit of talent, you can train it into skill.

But you can't train someone into being empathetic enough to see things from a dog's point of view, and you can't train someone into being the kind of person you'd trust to lead a class field trip.

to be continued on another post

[shift-shaping]

where did your hips go

enaste finally reaches her clan.

rating: t

pairing: solavellan

previous fics | 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

By the time Enaste finally saw the first wolf statues, she was starving. She should have arrived much earlier, but after an intense round of screaming slurs at her, one of her captives had started losing blood at an alarming rate and she'd needed to stop to heal him. And gag him. Turns out dragging two half-dead men on a couple of tired horses took much longer than she would have liked. She'd brought a few pieces of jerky with her, but it wasn't much and she'd eaten them hours ago.

The smell of fish cooking over a fire nearly sent her into a frenzy. Klein, the man she hadn't felt the need to gag, groaned hungrily. She saw the sails of her clan's aravels peeking up from the trees.

Moments later, three hunters emerged and ran to help her. The sight of them made her heart ache, but it was a happy ache, the kind of ache that comes from missing someone so much for so long. They greeted her, hugged her, told her how happy they were to see her. One of them started trying to catch her up on happenings in the clan, but was interrupted by Klein's groaning.

Only then did the hunters really take in Enaste's hostages. Cole had apparently disappeared again, leaving Enaste to look especially impressive with two captives and two horses behind her.

"Wow, no wonder you took so long to get here," said the youngest of the hunters, a freckled girl named Aridhel. "Are those the mercenaries we've been dealing with?"

Enaste nodded. Her voice rasped. "Some of them, yes. They have information, but they're in rough shape and need healing first."

More members of her clan came out of the trees to greet Enaste as the hunters led the horses into camp. A few of the children escaped their carer's hold and bolted to her, hugging her and yelling about recent events and asking her questions so quickly she couldn't respond. Enaste laughed and knelt down to their level, taking care to greet every one by name.

She knew them, by face and name and voice, because she had seen them before anyone else in this world; nearly every child in the clan, all but the very oldest and very youngest, Enaste had delivered herself. One particularly excited boy grabbed her hand and bounced up and down. "'Naste, 'Naste!" He said quickly, and she laughed as she turned to him.

"Yes, Inar? You're very impatient today."

"I'm four! I just had my name day!"

"That you did! You've gotten very big. How was it?"

He smiled at her compliment and slowed in his bouncing. "It was so fun! Lahalaan made crab cakes and sweet cheese on toast!"

Another child, a smaller girl named Nellasa, started to pull on Enaste's other hand. "Inaarr stop talking. 'Naste just got here!"

Enaste turned to the girl, smirking. "What? Didn't you like the crab cakes too, Nella?"

"I guess," she drew the word out and pulled Enaste's hand harder, unbalancing her and making her laugh. "But come on! You have to see what I made with Elder Shora!"

"You used too many colors!" Inar replied, annoyed at her interruption.

"Elder Shora said there's no such thing!"

Enaste felt footsteps behind her. "Children, please, let your First at least come into camp." She would recognize that voice anywhere --confident, steady, wizened with age but still deep and strong.

Enaste stood carefully, and turned to face her Keeper. Her breath caught in her chest. Keeper Deshanna was as beautiful as ever, her long white hair plaited into crisp, oiled braids decorated with trinkets and adorned with silver halla horns that graced her head like a crown.

"It is so good to see you, da'len."

Enaste bowed, eyes closed, momentarily too overwhelmed to speak. When she straightened, her Keeper pulled her into a warm, loving embrace. She smelled like the herbs they burned to keep away mosquitoes, and the campfires they lit for warmth at night, and the oils worked into her hair to keep the strands in place. She was shorter than Enaste by several inches, so Enaste had to be wary of the horns on her head.

They stepped apart, and Deshanna kept her hands on Enaste's arms. Her vallaslin was extensive and vibrant, kept fresh from a new application just two years before. It was a more advanced version of Enaste's own --where the mark of Mythal covered only Enaste's forehead, on her Keeper it extended across her cheeks and through her lips, cutting a long line towards her chest.

"You are thin," Deshanna observed, and Enaste laughed nervously. "You need some real food, none of that shemlin dogfeed. Come. We have fresh trout and oysters."

Enaste's mouth watered; she was momentarily so hungry she lost her train of thought, but still managed to thank her Keeper profusely.

Keeper Deshanna looked over Enaste's shoulder, towards the horses. She narrowed her eyes, then nodded slowly. "These are some of the mercenaries that have been harassing us, aren't they?"

Enaste sighed. "Yes. I encountered a group of them earlier and managed to take these two captive."

"Were you hurt?" Deshanna asked, and without hesitating, ignoring the pain in her throat and the aches in her back, Enaste shook her head.

"They were not expecting a mage."

"I see," Deshanna looked skeptical, but did not press the issue. She didn't need to know what happened. Enaste was fine, regardless, as long as she didn't think about it too much.

"Aridhel, Hauen, Eirie," Deshanna announced, and at her voice all three hunters stood at attention. "Get more help from the older hunters, and put the men in the storage tent on the north side of camp. Keep them tied down, but tell Elder Le'an to watch over them. Whatever information they have, we want it."

Enaste watched the three hunters hurriedly follow their new orders. The children started pulling on Enaste again, especially Nellasa, and Enaste picked her up instead of letting herself be dragged down the hill.

"Where are Hallin and Harea?" Enaste asked, careful not to step on a stray child as they walked down the slope into camp.

"Hallin is hunting, but Harea is around somewhere. I believe she is doing some leatherwork."

Enaste smirked. "She never does stop working."

Keeper Deshanna sighed. "I wish she would. She needs more rest." She looked at Enaste dryly. "Though I'm sure she would get more if your brother would stop fussing over her."

Enaste's smirk turned into a wider smile: she knew her brother, and that was very much in-character for him. "He won't leave her alone?"

"No!" Deshanna replied, exasperated. "I had to order him to leave for this hunt, and it took far more convincing than it should have."

"It's been so long," Enaste said. Nellasa had started playing with her scarf. Enaste gently took her hands away from it so she wouldn't pull it off, and the girl laid her head on Enaste's shoulder. "He's worried for her, and the child."

"I know. But if he keeps hovering around her he's not going to have a bonded or a child because Harea will have killed him."

The camp was set up long and narrow, so from this entrance they could only see a few tents, an aravel, and her clan mates buzzing around them. A woman named Miolvun, beating the dust out of a rug, froze as soon as she saw them and ran off. "Harea!" She yelled in the distance, and Enaste grinned.

Keeper Deshanna returned her smile and led her towards an aravel where hardered leather lay across the decks. A bag of tools and thread for embroidering said leather hung over the side. Miolvun barely had time to warn the heavily pregnant woman sitting against the aravel before she saw Enaste herself.

"Creators!" Harea yelled. "Oh, fenhedis--" Harea hissed before tossing whatever she was working on into the darkness of the aravel.  "Help me up," she ordered the other woman, who quickly gave Harea her arm.

Enaste gently put Nellasa down as her friend approached. Harea was a beautiful woman: her hair was the same shade of black that Enaste's was, but her skin was a darker, richer tan, and the blue in her vallaslin --meant to honor June-- made her brown eyes stand out even more than they would have otherwise.

"Oh, how could you leave me, you monster?" Harea asked, putting her hands on Enaste's face. She was tall, too, one of the tallest elves in the clan, and looked down slightly at Enaste. "In my time of need? It's like you don't even care."

Keeper Deshanna sighed. "She was kidnapped, da'len."

Harea shot her an annoyed look. "She could have escaped."

Enaste laughed and put her hand on Harea's wrist. "I did escape. I'm here now, aren't I?"

Harea pursed her lips. She suddenly squished Enaste's face, earning a surprised yelp. "You should have been here earlier. Your brother has been an absolute nuisance, and you're the only one he listens to."

"Abelas. I really did try," Enaste said through squished cheeks.

Harea let Enaste's face go and sighed. "It's fine. I know you were busy being... Some kind of shemlin goddess...?"

Enaste rolled her eyes. "I'll tell you later."

"Yes, you should eat first," Harea frowned, looking down at Enaste's body. "Where did your hips go?"

"Enough, da'len," Keeper Deshanna soothed. Before she could go on, a voice called out to Enaste.

"Maker's breath! There you are!" It was Jester, the agent Leliana had sent along to assist her. A human woman was just behind them, followed by Blackwall, and further behind, Solas. Her gaze lingered on him, warmth blooming in her chest just from seeing him. He smiled at her when he caught her eye, and she smiled back. It was embarrassing.

"And hey, what's up with your voice?" Harea asked, frowning. "You sound like you have a cold."

"Ah, well, I think I do," Enaste lied, and Harea started asking Deshanna about various remedies.

"Inquisitor," Jester said, their thick brows knit in concern. "We were so worried for you. What a relief to see you alright."

"What caused the delay?" Solas asked, and, frustratingly, she found herself excited by his voice. Had she missed him? It had been scarcely twelve hours.

She turned towards where the hunters had taken her captives. "I ran into a few of our mercenaries friends. Took two of them hostage, and two horses."

Solas's brows raised. "Impressive work." His praise made her heart skip. Then he frowned. "Are you feeling alright? Your voice sounds strange."

"That's what I said!" Harea exclaimed, crossing her arms. "You need elfroot, and honey."

"I need to eat, lethallan," Enaste said, finally speaking up for her aching stomach. She looked at her Keeper. "You said there was trout?"

Deshanna smiled, nodded, and looked to the gathered Inquisition representatives. "Your friends have already had some, but there should be plenty. Come, let us eat."

Soon she was sitting in the grass, eating grilled trout and mushrooms and oysters and herbs. Save for when Roshan cooked at Skyhold, it was the best thing she'd eaten in months. She ate so fast Harea teased her and told her to slow down, and her friend was right because she felt a little sick afterwards. But it hardly mattered. She lay back against a tree and closed her eyes and listened to the surreal intermingling voices of her family and new friends in the comfort of her clan's camp. She met Lady Guinevere Volant, who explained the situation in Wycome as she understood it, and Keeper Deshanna went over the situation with the bandits.

The plague the Keeper mentioned was, obviously, not in reference to the clan itself but the city of Wycome. Some disease was tearing through the upper quarters, killing humans but suspiciously --almost pointedly-- avoiding elves. When Enaste explained that the mercenaries had apparently been paid for by the Duke of Wycome, the full picture came into focus: something was killing the humans of Wycome, and the elves were being blamed for it. Despite obviously not being connected, Clan Lavellan was made a scapegoat. They were lucky the mercenaries were so incompetent.

"They may come here to try and avenge their comrades," Blackwall warned, and Enaste nodded.

"We'll be ready for them. We can speak with the hostages I took and get more information about what to expect, but after my encounter with them I don't think there are many left in fighting shape." She nodded to Deshanna. "We can handle what's left."

"Good," the Keeper said. She looked at Lady Volant, grey brows furrowed. "What of the elves in the alienage? If we are being harassed, I find it hard to imagine they are safe."

Lady Volant nodded slowly. "Tensions seem higher than usual. One of my informants in the alienage has expressed concern, and many of the elves are especially worried. I am uncertain of more than that, however." She looked to Enaste. "I had hoped we could introduce you to the Duke, that we might gain information that way, but if he's paying for these mercenaries to harass your clan, I doubt he'll tell you much."

Keeper Deshanna nodded. "But you could go, Lady Volant, and see if he will give you a tour of the city as a representative of the Inquisition. Then you would be able to assess the reality of this plague for yourself."

"Should you have protection?" Enaste asked.

"Not typically, though..."

Enaste looked to Blackwall, who nodded. "Blackwall can accompany you."

Keeper Deshanna hesitated. "Is it the norm for a tour of the city to require an armed guard?" She looked at Blackwall kindly. "With all due respect, having such a visible guard will raise suspicions. The Duke will know we do not trust him."

"None taken, my lady," Blackwall responded.

"Still, it is not a bad idea." She looked at Jester, who was silent thus far. "If we send one of our warriors or hunters the Duke will know we have some involvement. You are without vallaslin; if you accompany the ambassador as a servant, it will draw less attention."

Jester considered this, running their hand along their chin. "That might be fine. If we visit the alienage, however, they may recognize me. Some of the Duke's own servants may as well."

Enaste frowned, thinking. She cleared her throat and nodded to Solas. "You could accompany Lady Volant."

He smiled slightly, and no one objected immediately, so Enaste went on. "You wear no vallaslin, you are unknown to the alienage and the various elven servants, and should something go wrong, you can protect Lady Volant." She shrugged. "It's not a bad idea."

"They won't be able to tell you're a mage?" Blackwall asked, and Solas shook his head.

"Likely not. Even if they had a mage of their own, it is difficult to be certain."

"You don't hate the idea," Enaste observed. "You will be treated like a servant."

"I can pretend to be humble, for one afternoon," he joked, and Enaste snorted.

Keeper Deshanna nodded slowly. "This feels like the right compromise." She raised an eyebrow at Solas. "You are rather large for an elven servant, though."

"No one looks at elves that hard, Keeper," Harea replied, and the Keeper sighed her agreement.

"Tomorrow, then?" Enaste asked, and Lady Volant nodded.

"I will travel back to Wycome today, and send a messenger to inform the Duke that I will be taking him up on his offer of a tour. He will be disappointed in your absence, Inquisitor, but he should understand how much of diplomacy is done via proxy."

"Shall I go with you?" Solas asked, and Lady Volant nodded.

"I could send a messenger to the clan in the morning, but it would be easier if you simply stayed in Wycome."

That made perfect sense, and Enaste did not object. Still, for some reason knowing he would not get to spend the night with her people was disappointing. It was her own fault for volunteering him, and maybe it was for the best. She knew he was uncomfortable around the Dalish, even among her clan, and maybe introducing him to her people in small pieces would be easier.

Thus it was settled. Solas would go with Lady Volant back to Wycome that evening, and everyone else would remain in the camp. Lunch lingered a while longer, and Harea half-forced Enaste to drink honeyed tea for her throat despite how full she felt. Other clan members came and went, greeting Enaste and marveling at her entourage. Roshan ate with them for a while as well before he went off to nitpick something about the oysters.

As the sun drifted past midday, Keeper Deshanna instructed one of the hunters from earlier, Aridhel, to show the Inquisition where they'd be staying. The clan had set up several tents for them, modest in construction but outfitted with warm furs inside that would be plenty of cushion to sleep on. Enaste returned to the small, private section of the aravel she'd shared with Deshanna for the better part of the last ten years. It had been kept clean, and free of dust. Were she not burdened by the warmth in her hand and the pain in her throat, it would be easy to imagine she'd never really left.

<- prev fic | next fic ->

[up-in-space-reading]

The End of the World and Everything After

pairing: Matt x F Reader

word count: 6,345

warnings/tags: angst, grief, hurt, fluff, comfort, established relationship, unplanned pregnancy, swearing, domestic fluff, dad!Matt, the blip/the snap, mentions of alcohol, allusions to sex (nothing graphic). no use of y/n.

read on ao3

masterlist

Story Summary: Half of the universe is turned into dust because of Thanos. You and Matt were left behind to pick up the pieces of yourselves and try to learn how to live without the most important people in your lives.

a/n: This fic was born from me babysitting, listening to 90s top hits for two weeks straight, and way too many conversations with my partner about what our fave characters did during the blip. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy <3

The whole world stopped that day. The entire universe stood still. It was unbelievably quiet everywhere, a silence settling down on the surface that wouldn’t lift anytime soon.

On an average Tuesday afternoon, half of the earth disappeared in minutes. Leaving behind the other half to cope with the losses and clean up the mess left behind.

No one was sure what the Avengers did or didn’t do, all everyone knew was that five minutes after someone had snapped their fingers half of their loved ones were no longer around.

Not dead, just dust.

Matt had taken losing Karen and Foggy hard. He spent months taking out his anger on anything he could hit and kick. Bruised and bloody fists a harsh reminder that he is alive, and they aren’t. The streets and the punching bag in the gym got hit with his rage, and you got hit with his sadness. There was no denying you felt it too, you were just as much of a mess you just didn’t have the physical outlet he did.

He started training you in the old dusty ring at Fogwells a few months after, hitting the bag and sparring until neither of you could handle it anymore and the tears began falling again, collapsing into each other’s arms for a while. You’d then walk home, arm in arm on the quiet streets of the Kitchen, Matt would listen to the people left and you’d stare at the empty buildings.

It was a similar routine for a year but getting easier to handle with every passing week. A smile here and there when you would land a punch, a giggle when he’d grab you around the waist in just the right spot to tickle you.

Slowly, you were getting yourselves back. Not your old selves, but a new version, versions that lived with the pain and held onto the small glimpses of hope. Versions of yourselves that settled into a calm and quiet routine. You got to a place where you could talk about them with a bittersweet tone instead of not being able to speak through the tears. And in the strangest turn of events, connections were made.

It was Jessica who had reached out first. You had been so surprised you read the text on Matt’s phone yourself multiple times. Her and Luke had figured things out, they even had a kid a few months before the blip. But they were getting lonely, and once Luke has realised who was left he figured you and Matt were getting lonely too.

Halfway through that first year you quit your job, began working with Matt in the office doing the admin and office managerial tasks. He didn’t have many clients, but people were still having issues during this time. At some point everyone decided the world had to keep turning, people needed money to stay in their homes or downsize and businesses still needed to run. The city kept going, it just felt smaller and emptier now.

You packed away Karen and Foggy’s things, in storage boxes. Matt asked why you didn’t get rid of them completely and you didn’t have an answer, maybe a small part of you hoped they’d come back one day. Maybe you just didn’t have the heart to get rid of it all yet. The door to Foggy’s office staying almost permanently shut, windows dark.

So, you sat at the desk in the main foyer of the office, answering emails and doing any research Matt needed done. Matt went over files and case notes in his office, listening to you hum along to the music playing quietly through a speaker in the corner of the room. It was a little over a year since it had happened.

It was a warm day, sunlight pouring through the dirty office windows making the space look happier than it ought to be. You were busy typing an email response to organise an appointment with a client when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in” You said loud enough so the person could hear, not looking up from your computer screen.

Luke opened the door with one hand, holding Dani and a bag of food in the other. Dani had her arms wrapped around as much of Luke’s neck as she could reach and was babbling in her fathers ear while he hummed in response.

“Hi Luke, hi Dani” You smiled wide at the two of them.

You were always happy to see Dani, convinced she was one of the cutest kids you’d ever seen. Looks like her fathers and a temper like her mothers (only if you didn’t give in to her ice cream demands).

“Hey, how you guys doing? We bought you both some lunch if you haven’t already had some” He took the bag of food in his free hand and held it up for emphasis.

“No, we haven’t eaten yet, thank you so much.” You stomach grumbling as you stood up and accepted the bag happily, peering at the contents inside “Can’t believe the mayor of New York is doing a lunch run while also looking after his little one”

At the mention of Dani you look at her and scrunch up your nose and smile, she smiled in return before quickly hiding her face in Luke’s shoulder. Luke laughed.

“If I’m behind that desk for too long I’ll lose my mind, besides, needed to ask Matt a few things and figured it was a good excuse to get out”

You laughed in response, it was a new feeling, laughing at things regularly and feeling a semblance of normal. It was something none of you had been used to in a long while, but it did feel good, you almost felt relieved that the worst was over even though the worst was technically still ongoing.

“If there’s enough here for all of us I’ll get a table and some chairs set up so we can eat together, you go chat with Matt, Dani and I will hang out for a bit”

Luke passed Dani over to you before giving her a quick kiss on the cheek and going into Matt’s office. You went about dragging out the fold out table and chairs from the unused conference room, Dani in one arm and dragging furniture with the other. Eventually you put her down on the floor next to the small basket of toys you’d acquired for her so you could finish setting up the table and chairs and place the food out on the table.

Once done, you knocked on the door of Matt’s office and poked your head in telling the two boys that food was ready. The four of you sat down around the small square table, Dani on Luke’s lap trying her absolute hardest to stab things with a chopstick.

You small talk about your days and what everyone has been up to recently, its mostly the same as usual and at some point Matt and Luke continue talking shop so you start entertaining Dani with funny faces and peek-a-boo.

It was a nice day, you finished work an hour before Matt and were able to cook something nice for dinner by the time he got home.

Later that night you and Matt were sat on the couch, both reading a book quietly. He had decided to not go on patrol that night, it had made you wonder at first, but you weren’t going to complain at the chance for quality time. The two of you were sat on the couch, you were leaning against the arm rest with your legs stretched out on Matt’s lap, his feet were resting on the coffee table and you’d both been wearing your pyjamas since arriving home after work. A record playing on the turntable in the corner of the room, Matt had picked tonight.

At a point in the evening when the sun was down and the moon making its home in the sky for the night Matt put his book down on the side table, running his hands up and down your shins. After a few minutes and once you’d finished your page you closed your book and put it down, looking up at him to see he was already facing you, a lazy smile on his face.

“What’s up, handsome?” You teased reaching one of your hands down, meeting one of his at your knee.

“Nothing much, beautiful” He teased back.

You sit in silence for a few moments, taking in all his features and how they seem to have aged so much just in the past year and you assumed you looked the same. But he was still beautiful, pensive and unfocused brown eyes staring while his other senses take in everything. The stubble lingering on his jaw that you had always preferred over him being clean shaven.

“You’re staring” He pulled you out of your thoughts.

“If you could see your reflection then you’d understand why” You giggled.

“Can I ask you something?” He asked tentatively.

“Of course”

You leaned your head sideways to rest on the back of the couch, still looking at him as he seemed hesitant with his question. Had this been six months ago your mind would have run wild with possibilities, anxiety having already decided the worst outcome was definitely going to happen. But this time, your instincts weren’t screaming and your mind was clear, it should’ve scared you but instead your heart stayed steady. The worst had already happened, anything since couldn’t compare.

“I love you, so much. The past year has been…” He looks away, blinking hard a few times before turning to face you again “probably one of the worst ever, we were- are dealing with something so unprecedented. But we’ve made it this far and it has me convinced we’ll make it through anything” You both let out a short laugh.

“I feel like I’m getting off track, sorry” He laughed nervously this time, at this point you could see he was fiddling with something in his pocket with his free hand.

“That’s okay, keep going” You smiled and squeezed his hand, trying to calm your heartbeat as your mind jumped to conclusions hoping against everything they were the right ones.

“Anyway, if it weren’t for you I don’t know what I would’ve done or where I would be now. You’re the most amazing, kind, funny and caring person I’ve ever met.” Tears were welling up in his eyes, matching the ones that had been brimming in yours threatening to spill “I-I can’t live without you, so would you marry me?”

He pulled his hand out of his pocket, holding a silver ring. It was beautiful, two small bands winding around one other creating an infinite spiral, decorated with small diamonds embedded in the bands. It was the perfect ring for you, he knew you weren’t a fan of big jewellery and a big diamond wouldn’t match your style.

“Oh my god Matt… yes I will, of course I will” The tears had now begun to fall now and there was no way you were going to be able to stop them.

He held your shaking left hand steady as he slid the ring on your finger, and you looked at it for a few moments before sliding closer to Matt to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him. He returned the favour, hands going to your waist to hold you close and steady. When you pulled back for air you could see he was also crying.

After a few moments of catching your breath, you spoke up again.

“What about K-“

“I know, I thought about it. They would hate that we stopped living just because they’re gone, and if we get to see them again one day I want to be able to tell them the things we’ve done together”

“Okay, if you’re sure” You put your forehead against his.

“Sure as I’ve been about anything”

The two of you chose a date a few weeks later to go to the courthouse and make it official, with Luke, Jess, and Dani in tow. You and Jess went out to get a dress, she insisted she was only there to tell you which ones were ugly so you’d know what to avoid. The dress you chose was simple, not a wedding dress by definition but it was white and it suited you. Jess had even said you looked nice in it, which coming from her she may as well have called you Aphrodite.

You filled out and signed papers, quickly kissed, and by that evening the five of you were sitting in yours and Matt’s apartment a few drinks in laughing over nothing. Music from the turntable and Dani’s babbling as she played on the floor creating background noise, and for the first time in a long time the city doesn’t feel too big or too quiet.

It was a perfect night to end a perfect day.

Throwing up into the toilet isn’t how you had anticipated you’d start your Saturday morning, Matt still in pyjama pants and no shirt holding your hair back as your body convulsed. He rubbed your back soothingly until you’d finished, and once you were sure you were done, he held you on the bathroom floor as you caught your breath.

A year and a half since half the universe disappeared, a few months since you and Matt had gotten married.

“Oh god” You gasped, looking at the results of the test later that day.

“Well..” Matt trailed off.

You were both processing the results in silence for a little while, you weren’t sure if it were seconds or hours that passed.

“Quarters” Matt whispered.

At first it confused you until you racked your brain, did some rough maths and suddenly it made sense.

“Quarters” You whispered back in shock.

“This should be incredibly unfair to you but I actually think it’s the opposite and incredibly unfair to me” You giggled while pouring a shot of whiskey into the cup in the middle of the table.

“Mrs Murdock attacks her husband once again, will the torment ever end” Matt pretended to fret to someone else who wasn’t in the room before laughing.

“Mr Murdock is going the right way to sleeping on the couch if he continues to pretend he will be bad at this game”

Matt walked to the dining table, carrying freshly washed quarters in a towel, drying them as he walked. He had insisted on washing the coins before playing, they smelled so strong he could taste them and it made him feel ill.

“I’m going to cheat” You said matter of factly.

“Sweetheart, I didn’t marry you because you’re a fair player” You both laughed hard.

You had begun playing games every so often, going out drinking less meant you and Matt had time to fill and you were determined to not have him fill the time with Daredevil. An argument six months after the blip which left you both emotionally raw had already gone over that issue. He was doing worlds better now, not relying on Daredevil as much to cope and you were proud.

When Matt was satisfied that the coins were as clean as he could get them and dry enough, the game commenced. You immediately regretted it, wishing you had chosen a card game instead. He was landing every single one, you were lucky to get one in four. After a little while you stood up to get some water and wobbled on your feet, deciding that you had to stack the odds in your favour somehow so you wouldn’t get blackout while Matt stayed lightly buzzed.

“Need help getting to the fridge?” He teased, leaning back in his chair.

“I am perfectly fine walking a few steps to the fridge” You insisted, but you were definitely trying harder than usual to take balanced and even steps.

Once you had acquired a bottle of water, you returned to the table and picked up a coin for your next shot. Unsurprisingly you miss the glass, but before Matt can pick up a coin of his own you take one off the table as quick as possible and take another shot. This one makes it into the glass and you throw your arms up in victory while Matt throws his head back laughing.

“Drink up Matthew!” You cheered.

From that point on Matt let you keep trying until you got the coin in the glass before taking his turn. At some point in the evening when your cheeks were hurting from laughter and your mouth was sticky with the taste of alcohol you called it a night, advising Matt that you two had shared enough of the bottle for a single evening.

You stumbled through the living room and into the bedroom together, feeling grateful that you from a few hours ago decided to put her pyjamas on before starting the game. You were warm and happy all over, but it wasn’t until Matt took his shirt off that your heart began to race and heat spread through your body.

“Hmm”

The noise had accidentally slipped from your lips, you hadn’t meant for it to come out but it was too late, Matt had already heard it and was taking in the rest of your body’s reaction.

“Oh” He responded quietly while smirking.

“And you’re sure you want to do this?” You asked nervously from the other end of the couch.

“Sure as I’ve been about anything, only if you’re sure too” He placed a hand on your knee.

“Yeah, I’m sure”

You let out a deep breath, taking it all in and already thinking ahead. A feeling settled in your chest, a mix of excitement and anxiety. You both had a daunting future ahead of you but you were sure it would be worth it, and there was no one you’d rather do it with than Matt.

Luke was elated for the both of you, and Jess pretended to not be as happy also but had a hard time hiding it, a rare smile gracing her face for just a moment when you had told them the news. You often texted Jess with a million different questions and whilst reluctant to answer she still helped more than you’d ever be able to thank her for. When you found out the gender Luke brought over a few bags of Dani’s old stuff that she had grown out of and you couldn’t be more grateful.

“Your daughter is fuckin’ huge, can you help me with my shoes please” You yelled across the apartment to Matt.

“As soon as she’s an issue it’s my daughter, huh?” He teased as he walked over to where you were on the couch, his tie still undone.

Matt knelt on the floor in front of you and helped with putting your socks and shoes on, you hadn’t been able to reach your feet for a while now so he was used to it and he never minded helping in any way he could. You were the one doing the hard work after all, who was he to complain about having to help with a pair of shoes every now and then.

Once he was done with your shoes he placed a kiss onto your belly and then your forehead. He finished doing up his tie and you both headed out to work for the day. It was a brisk morning as you walked to the office, arm in arm as per usual. You had to stop once to catch your breath and Matt sat with you on the bench, hand on your knee in comfortable silence.

After you had gotten to the office and up until lunch you had felt minor pains but nothing to be concerned about. It wasn’t until about 2pm that they got worse and you grew worried, but you still hadn’t caught Matt’s attention until a bad one hit you suddenly causing you to hiss through your teeth and clench your fists.

He got up from his desk and rushed to the doorway of his office.

“Are you okay?” He asked concerned.

“Uh-“ You thought about it for a few moments “Not really”

You knew Matt would be annoyed if you downplayed how you felt, he had been all over since you found out you were pregnant making sure you weren’t having any pains that were out of place and making you be almost too careful. Fortunately, you’d read about these pains, and you now had the task of quickly mentally preparing yourself for the coming hours.

“I’ll call Luke” Matt was ready for action immediately, pulling out his phone and finding Luke’s contact immediately.

Taxis were harder to come by after the blip and it was a jarring change for New York. The only person you and Matt knew who did drive was Luke, so he was always the go to if you needed a ride for a bit of a distance; and he had offered to call him anytime for the baby. Luke was outside the office not 10 minutes later ready to take the two of you to the hospital.

Matt would do anything for her, he had decided that the moment he got to hold her for the first time. She was his everything, two people in the world he would do anything for.

While you were sleeping that night, exhausted after all the effort that afternoon, he held her in his arms. Sat on the uncomfortable hospital couch he felt her warmth against his chest and listened to her tiny heartbeat. She was perfect, and he cried as he stroked her soft cheek with his finger.

His girls were everything to him. Two years ago his world collapsed and he thought he could never be happy again, he’d never be lucky enough to laugh or smile. But despite the many difficulties the day offered, he was content.

If he ever got to see Foggy and Karen again, he couldn’t wait to tell them everything.

You told him she was still mostly bald but there were whisps of dark hair covering her head, you joked she wasn’t done cooking enough to tell who she looked more like yet. Luke drove the three of you home two days later, not lingering too long so you could get settled.

Sleepless nights were tough on both of you, Matt didn’t get enough sleep as it was and now with a crying baby it was worse. But eventually you figured out a routine, and after two months of stumbling and sleepless nights the two of you found a way.

Saturday afternoon and you were finally getting around to doing the laundry you’d been putting off for two weeks, Mia propped up by some pillows at the head of your bed and unfolded clothes covering the foot of the bed. She was holding a toy in her hand that she would occasionally decide to chew on or wave around while music played in the background.

“Your father hates when I sing this one, rolls his eyes and everything, can you believe him?” You told Mia as you swayed your hips to the music while folding t-shirts.

She made a quiet cooing noise and you couldn’t help but smile. A few minutes passes of you humming and Mia watching you, content in between feeds and naps.

“Oh my god yes! Mia baby this is important stuff I expect you to remember this one” You said as the next song begun, one of your personal favourites.

The swaying hips very soon escalated into dancing around the bedroom as you folded clothes, Mia smiling at your antics only encouraging you further. You were getting lost in the music, and though you didn’t know it Matt was smiling from where he was washing dishes in the kitchen, attention focused completely on you in the other room.

Near the end of the song Mia waved her arms around a little, and you didn’t care if she was copying you or just doing her thing but it made you laugh anyway.

“That’s it baby, get into it!”

It wasn’t often you had the opportunity to sneak up on Matt, ears hearing you approaching from more than a block away, always making sure you’re safe. But every now and then you had a rare opportunity to, and it was always a gem to catch Matt off guard.

Today you had gone grocery shopping while Matt stayed home with Mia. You had returned from shopping, hearing Matt’s voice on the other side of the apartment door made you stop for a moment. You stood by the door, ear close to the gap trying to listen to what he was saying.

“Now it isn’t so bad, see? If I had known this is what you wanted in the first place we could’ve avoided a lot of stress, sweetheart”

A warmth blooms in your chest as a smile graces your face, a few moments of silence pass before you hear him speak again.

“Ah here we go, you like this one. You gotta learn to tell me this stuff, your mother says communication is important, y’know” He chuckled to himself.

Finally, you unlock the door and go into the apartment. Upon walking into the living area you find Mia lying on her tummy on the play mat, surrounded by toys within arm’s reach, and Matt lying on his stomach on the floor, chin resting on his arms facing Mia.

He greeted you the moment you walked in and you greeted back while putting the bags of groceries on the counter. You shrugged your jacket and shoes off and walked over to Matt and Mia, lying down right next to Matt, mirroring his position and facing Mia.

“Didn’t realise we all needed tummy time” You laughed, giving Matt a kiss on the cheek before leaning forward to kiss Mia on the forehead.

“This was what made her happy, who am I to argue” He shrugged his shoulders.

“You’re a sucker” You nudged him with your elbow.

“I might be” He laughed and hung his head.

Mia’s first birthday involved too much ice cream and cake, but Dani had insisted that after all the time she’d spent playing with Mia that she wanted ice cream and you didn’t have the heart to say no. She loved ripping the wrapping paper off of her gifts more than she liked the actual gifts, you made a note of that for when Christmas came around.

As she grew a whole corner of the office became a play area for her, and occasionally Dani. At first it was one corner, but as soon as she began walking unaided the whole office was hers to play in as far as she was concerned. Matt would often step on toys left lying around his office, muttering to himself in annoyance while putting it away. The conference room had become the nap room, and Mia enjoyed the walk between the office and home.

She often wanted to sit on yours or Matt’s lap while you worked, eager to bang on the computer keyboards and scribble on notepads. You caved and bought an old keyboard for her to play with, it meant she stayed off your lap a little longer, but not Matt’s.

Mia was a daddy’s girl through and through, and Matt would do anything for his little girl. His ears were always tuned in to the sound of ‘dada’ and always telling her she was perfect. You would often hear them having ‘conversations’ on his office, him telling her a story and she would babble back happily.

It was 1:30pm, you had put all work on hold to deal with Mia who refused to nap and was letting everyone else deal with the consequences. Matt was getting frustrated; she would cling to her dad when upset but he had work to do, and the crying child on the floor under his desk didn’t help with productivity. You were getting annoyed that she wasn’t being receptive to anything you did to calm her down and eventually gave up, bordering on tears yourself.

Despite the feelings of guilt Matt made you sit on the couch with him in his office and just leave Mia, she would cry herself tired. He reassured you that you weren’t a bad mother for letting it happen, and if she kept going then he would handle it. You leaned your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes, trying to relax even with the sound of crying filling the room. Matt rubbed your arm soothingly and sighed, leaning his head back against the wall.

The two of you hadn’t felt like this since the sleepless nights when Mia was a newborn, you’d gotten used to her good sleep schedule and generally good behaviour. Jess laughed that the ‘terrible twos’ was approaching, and you refused to believe your baby girl could be anything remotely near terrible. That was until today, when she wouldn’t nap and you were quickly running out of patience.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you came back to reality, thinking you had tuned out the crying you opened your eyes and took stock of the room around you. You lifted your head and looked at Matt who had a small smile on his face, looking relieved. It was then you clocked how quiet the room was.

“Is she-?” You whispered.

“Yep” He sighed in relief.

You got up from the couch and made your way over to the desk, crouching to peer underneath. Mia was curled up under Matt’s desk, dark hair pointing in all directions and cheeks still red from her meltdown. Other than the wet tears under her eyes she looked as peaceful as ever, and you felt the tension leave your shoulders.

Matt had gotten up and retrieved a blanket from the conference-slash-nap room to put over her. He joined you where you were crouched and carefully covered Mia with the blanket, then standing up and collecting his files. He sat on the couch and continued his work, while you went to make a cup of coffee, both of you pleased you could finally get some work done before going home for the day.

“I do it!”

“Okay okay, you can do it” Matt laughed as Mia tried to stir the pasta sauce by herself.

He had always preferred cooking when he had company to do it with, the two of you had loved cooking together since you first met. You weren’t chefs but Matt knew what tasted good and you had a knack for portioning pasta perfectly every time (Matt joked that it was your heightened sense). Now that Mia had come along, he had someone else to cook with who was always attached to his hip.

She attempted to stir the sauce, it being too thick for her small arms to handle and Matt sneakily helping her. Once a few stirs were done she clapped her hands and Matt gave her endless praises and cheek kisses, you couldn’t help but smile at them.

You had tried to feed her a mouthful, but she outright refused and said she could do it herself. It was at this point you realised she’d inherited Matt’s sense of independence, wanting to do everything on her own without any help. Trying to stop yourself from helping her when she was getting half the pasta sauce down her shirt was tough, and Matt’s giggles weren’t helping.

“Your daughter is becoming like you” You said to Matt while you both cleaned up after Mia had gone down to sleep for the night.

“Again with the my daughter, you had a hand in making her too y’know” He smiled, amused.

“She’s becoming stubborn, and refuses help. It’s sounding all too familiar, won’t be long until you’re teaching her how to throw a proper punch” You joke, rolling your eyes.

Matt walks up to you and puts his hands on your waist, pulling you close and kissing you with a smile on his face, and you can’t help but kiss back. Still giving you butterflies after all these years.

“You don’t have to worry about her, the way she plays with Dani, she’s inherited your kindness and empathy. Besides, I’m a good father so I won’t teach her how to throw a punch until she’s at least 5” He laughed again at this own joke while you just groaned and rolled your eyes.

Once his laughter has died down you kiss him on the cheek and begin walking towards the bathroom to have a shower.

“You’re lucky I love you, Mr Murdock”

“Very lucky indeed”

He quickly catches up to you and sweeps you off your feet, carrying you bridal style to the bathroom while you can’t help but giggle.

“Daddy!”

“Good morning sweetheart!”

Mia runs through the lounge room to the kitchen where Matt was getting her lunch ready. He takes a few steps forward to meet her and scoop her up in his arms when they meet. She wraps her arms around his neck while he holds her in a tight hug.

“Tell me what your outfit is today” He continues to hold her with one arm while getting food together with the other hand.

“Got a dress and boots”

“What colour are they?”

“Pink and blue, and pink!”

“As beautiful as always” He kisses her on the cheek before placing her back on the floor to run around the apartment for a little bit.

You walk into the kitchen to make coffee for you and Matt, giving him a kiss on the cheek and a quick good morning. The two of you start a discussion about the cases you’re currently working on and when the next court date is.

As you leave the apartment the glint of Matt’s red glasses on the shelf catches your eye, he hadn’t worn them in years. Right after the snap he was in such an awful place that wearing his glasses out was the least of his concerns, and it became a bit of a habit. Then when Mia came along, he didn’t want her remembering how he looked only with his glasses on, losing any reason to wear them daily.

On the walk from the apartment to the office Mia walks between the two of you, holding a hand each and skipping. Every few steps you and Matt lift her up by the arms and swing her, making her laugh loudly. Her laugh echoes down the otherwise quiet street, and you think you see someone on the other side of the street smile at the sound.

Halfway through the walk Mia begs to get on Matt’s shoulders and he can’t say no to his little girl, you mutter about how he’s a softie and he pretends to not hear you but reveals himself by rolling his eyes.

“Since its Friday did you wanna finish up early and head to the park for the afternoon?” You ask Matt, nearing the office.

“Yes park!” Mia cheered from her place up on Matt’s shoulders, her arms wrapped around his head, hands meeting on his forehead.

“Park sounds good” He turned his head towards you and smiled.

You reach the office building and Matt lifts Mia off of his shoulders, you begin making your way up the stairs, searching your bag for the keys to the office. Matt and Mia hung behind because Mia insisted Matt help her jump up every step.

Once the two of them had finally reached the office, Matt went to his desk as Mia tipped out her box of toys onto the floor and began rummaging through them all looking for something she wanted. You sat at the reception desk and opened your laptop, checking emails like any other day.

Today was a quiet day, not many emails and even fewer calls. It was mostly a day of research and helping Matt prepare for a court date the following week. Mia would interrupt to show you her drawings and you all took a break for lunch.

Mid-afternoon when the both of you were satisfied with how much work you’d gotten done that day began packing up the office, putting away files and leaving to-do lists for Monday. Matt walked out of his office and stood next to your desk, Mia was on the floor slowly putting her toys back into the box.

Suddenly, Matt started breathing heavily and bent over, having to hold onto the desk for support as if he’d just been hit in the gut. His eyes were wide and you were immediately concerned – you couldn’t lose him too.

“Matt, are you alright? What’s wrong?” You asked concerned, a hand on his arm and one on shoulder.

He turned his head towards you and the look on his face was worrying, a mix of horror and confusion. It made your blood go cold; the last time he looked like that the whole world came crashing down.

“Something’s happened” He breathed out, putting a hand on your arm and squeezing tight.

“Are you okay, dada?” Mia asked from her spot on the floor, confusion all over her face.

It was then you heard it, you heard everything; people yelling and screaming, cars honking, and sirens going off. Your legs almost gave way, your heart thundering in your ears and breathing becoming difficult as you try to comprehend what was happening.

Another breath left your lips, you squeezed your eyes shut and when you opened them there was another person in the room. Time seemed to stop, all the noises outside seemed to quiet as you took in the face of the person standing in front of you. Your voice had been ripped from you with the breath you had been holding, Matt was the one to speak first.

“Foggy?”

a/n: Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it and please let me know if you did <3 I could probably add some extra scenes in (or even write Karen and Foggy's return) so if you'd like to read more let me know and I might think about writing some more :) P.S: the 'important song' referenced about halfway through is Kiss Me by Sixpence None The Richer bc I LOVE that song.

[ramcharantitties]

Rangrez

Chapter 4- Prideful Job

Sita's note: I am sorry if this is late and boring- i tried my best. Please have a good read! Also I have posted Raghuvan on Ao3, do check it out <3

Kainat woke up with shock, her chest heaving and body sweating. She felt like Lahore was calling for her. She looked around the room, to realize she was in her own home in Delhi now, no more bound to the golden cage of Heeramandi. As long as it took, Kainat strayed upon a to-let house. It was not as huge as her Shahi Mahal, but she wasn't a tawaif here anymore. Just smaller than her room back in Lahore, she was happy to start a new life with a new family. To march to her goals, away from being part of someone else's lustful fantasies. As much as she hated it, she had to sell some of her precious ornaments to afford the house. She still had the money to use given by Satto bi, but she managed to keep them safe. The first piece of jewelry she sold was a gold chain from what she stole from Rehana. The one thing that was helpful right now, was that the rich quality of these jewelry were going to benefit her. It only took one single chain to get her a house. Upon opening the cloth she tied that jewelry in, Kainat found the keys to Rehana's locker.

Would Rehana notice? She had a bad feeling, as if Shahi Mahal was calling for her. Kainat felt as if Fareedan was calling out for her, as if there was a great trouble in Shahi Mahal. Her hand wrapped around the silver keys, the cold providing her an untold feeling.

Kainat shook her head and got up, it was her first time away from her home and that's why she might be feeling this way. If nawab did go back to Shahi Mahal complaining that Kainat ran away, there would be some searching done for her. Since there was no news yet in Delhi, she was sure she wasn't found yet. Kainat took a deep breath and drank some water. It was pitch black in the night, overlooking the police barracks. Kainat was still very unsure about Ram. What repercussions was he talking about? And who was He to punish her for such repercussions? The only way to accept his behaviour was that he is a paranoid person. Kainat shook her head, settling back in bed.

It only took Kainat one or two stroll in the market to find where the revolutionaries were assembled or having a meeting. The look of being right but sneakily, the fear of being caught protecting the country, it was too much visible in their eyes. The next day, Kainat made to a revolutionary meeting like that. Her face veiled from the world, she was covered in a dark dupatta and a plain suit to blend her in the crowd. She sat in the middle of the audience, where she spotted a few more women.

The meeting hall was a dimly lit, empty space, tucked away in the heart of the city where shadows danced on the walls like silent spectators. The air was thick with anticipation as revolutionaries from all walks of life gathered in unity. Amidst the dimness of the hall, Kainat's spirit burned with the fire of rebellion, pushing her forward with unwavering resolution. With each passing moment, she felt herself drawing nearer to the realization of her dream, her heart swelling with anticipation at the thought of playing a part in shaping the destiny of her nation. "We are the people of the country, and we must be the one responsible for it's better future. The water, the forests and the land is ours, it should be our oath to protect it." A man in sarafa stood ahead, addressing the crowd.

As the high of the meeting reached its peak, voices rose in unison, echoing through the dimly lit hall. The sense of unity among the revolutionaries grew stronger. With a nod of agreement exchanged among the gathered revolutionaries, the meeting concluded, but the flame of revolution continued to burn brightly in their hearts.

Kainat walked out, when she spotted the same leader of the meeting. a flutter in her steps pulled her forward, to meet him; to listen whatever he has to say any further. "-but we need money, we need some resources to make the riot possible".

Her hand reached forward, tapping him on the shoulder. He turned around to see a beautiful young woman, but the madness of independence burning bright in her eyes. "I can help". Kainat knew how to convince men, and she did. Upon their resistance and doubts, she had a firm answer- "I wish to play a role in our fight and I won't back down". Alas, they had to listen, letting her in their plan.

-

It was around four in the evening, when Ram made his way to the police station to enquire something. "I wish to ask something in Lahore police station- it's related to a case". Ram flashed a smile to the old constable, a landline telephone accessible to him.

"Which district?"

"Heeramandi"

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Tagging: @jkdaddy01 @ramayantika @definitelyhim @starlight-1010 @panikk-attackkk @vijayasena @lilliebeingdelulu @multifandom-boss-bitch @yehsahihai

[marve2014]

No Time Like the Present

Wednesday Addams x fem!reader 

Part Four

Summary: Y/N meets Thing.

Warnings: Minor mention of violence, bullying.

Minors DNI

Word Count:2.9K

Authors Note: All characters aged up to 18. This is where the story diverges from the actual story line.

Outreach day was one day a year that the students of Nevermore coexisted with the kids of Jericho in order to "strengthen the bonds” between the two groups; At least that’s the spiel the mayor keeps giving all the businesses so they’ll let Nevermore students work in their shops. Tyler and I spent the morning talking about Wednesday and I’s not official, official first date while we waited for our Nevermore kid to show up. We were assigned the one and only Xavier Thorpe; the same one who hates Tyler and honestly makes me uncomfortable with how he looks at me and Wednesday. Making my iced coffee before people start trickling in, Xavier comes walking in. 

“Hello Xavier, how are you today?” you ask, trying to make polite conversation.

“I’m good y/n, how are you feeling after last night?” he smirks as he grabs an apron and makes his way behind the counter.

“If you must know, I had an amazing time. First dates are never really what you expect them to be, are they?” Smiling as you remember the feeling of Wednesday's hand in yours.. 

“First date? With who?” you can see the confusion flash across his face and can’t help but chuckle.

“With Wednesday of course. She was the one who demanded it was a date”. You decide to embellish the story just a little bit to make him even more uncomfortable  

“Wait, you and Wednesday?!? ‘“ he asks clearly shocked at the information you just provided.

“Yes, me and Wednesday. Is that a problem?' you question coldly.

“No, no, no problem at all. Just a little confused. I thought I was more her type.” He confesses as he starts wiping down the counter “guess she wasn’t playing hard to get, huh? Oh crap. And when I flirted with you before! Jesus I’m on idiot”

"Oblivious, yes, an idiot, eh, harsh words” you defend and give him a smile.

Tyler walks out of the breakroom and notices you and Xavier talking, you look over to him and he sends you a look that you know can lead to nothing good.

“I will be right back Xavier, it seems I am being summoned by that doofus over there” you laugh, walking towards Tyler as he pulls you into a hug when you reach him.

"Wednesday is at pilgrim world, wearing the costume and everything, we have no customers and Xavier can handle the few that come in.” Tyler rushes out all in one breath. 

“On my goodness, yes! Lets go! I’m so gonna use this to blackmail her. Xavier? We’ll be back in 10 minutes hold down the fort.” 

“Aye, aye captain.”  he mock salutes you as you and Tyler make your way to pilgrim word. Looking through the crowd trying to find Wednesday, you notice a smaller kid surrounded by 3 older boys – all dressed up like pilgrims. You leave Tyler and make your way over and see the smaller boy struggling as one of the older ones is trying to force him into a wooden contraption.

“HEY! LEAVE HIM ALONE!” You run over and all of them stare at you.

“Go away, this doesn’t have anything to do with you, outcast lover.” The ring leader says as he tries to get the small boy to stop squirming. You look around trying to find an adult as you feel someone walk directly next to you. 

“Howdy Pilgrims.” You look and see Wednesday staring at the situation with a cold decisive look in her eyes. “ I suggest you let Eugene go”. Wednesday rests her arm on the top of the wooden stock preventing it from closing on him. 

“What do you want to end up in the stocks too?” The ring leader asks as you pull the kid Wednesday called Eugene from the wooden stock and put your arm around his shoulder to comfort him.

“If I recall, we did this dance before and it didn’t end up well for you.” Wednesday smugly states as the larger boy makes a move to grab her. You stay with Eugene and Wednesday ends up tossing the kid to the floor and breaks his finger; all of the Jericho boys flee and you and Wednesday tend to Eugene. You're cleaning his uniform when Wednesday walks over and takes in the both of you smiling and laughing despite what just happened. 

“Why do I always find you in trouble?” Wednesday asks while you finish cleaning up Eugene.

“Well I couldn’t let them just be mean to Eugene. It would be like hurting a puppy!” You laugh and stare at Wednesday noticing how beautiful she looks.

“You are absolutely gorgeous. How did I get so lucky?” You ask and can tell Wednesday is starting to blush.

“I assume you two know each other?” Eugene interrupts. 

“Yes Eugene, this is y/n. She’s a normie. But she’s MY normie.” Wednesday declares ready to defend you if Eugene were to say something cross. You can feel your cheeks heating up at her casualness of mentioning you two being an item, unable to hide your smile you grab Wednesdays hand in yours.

“Well Eugene, it was a pleasure meeting you but I need to borrow Wednesday here.” You smile and lead both you and Wednesday back to the Weathervane walking in, still hand and hand with each other you make Wednesday sit at the table closest to the cash register you leave her there while you make her, her usual all the while Xavier is staring at you both mouth gaped open,with how easily she is letting you order her around; something he imaged should not even be possible with how strong willed the Wednesday Addams he knows is.  Xavier makes his way over to the table you sat Wednesday at and smugly looks her up and down.

“Never thought I would see Wednesday Addams act so domestic.”

“Xavier, I’m going to stay this once and only once, if you value your life you’re going to keep your mouth shut and not mention what’s seen here today to anyone at Nevermore.”

“Ill keep that in mind.” He smiles and makes a move to sit across from Wednesday.

“Xavier, if I’m not mistaken, you’re supposed to actually work; not harass customers. Go wipe something down.” You glare and make sure he’s away from Wednesday before she can threaten him anymore. Finishing up her drink, you walk over and take where Xavier was going to sit. You look Wednesday in the eyes “I am taking you somewhere tonight, be at the gates of the school at 9:00p.m. Okay? And dress warm. I don’t want you catching a cold.”

“Fine, but I need to talk to Tyler, has he made it back yet?” She questions.

“No clue, let me check the back. One minute”. You run to the back break room and see Tyler sitting in one of the chairs drinking an energy drink and playing some game on his phone. 

“Wednesday needs you, please and thank youuuu.” You smile and wait for him to follow. 

“The peasant you were seeking ma’am.” You motion to tyler.

“How can I be of service?” Tyler jokes as Wednesday pulls out a map she got from Pilgrim World.

“I need to know where on this map is the old pilgrims meeting house from the 1600s.” 

Tyler looks down at the map confused and then points to a secluded area.

“There, but its kind of sketchy, Squatters and meth heads use it as a crash pad. My dad has to clear it out every few weeks. Why are you looking for it?” 

“No reason.” Wednesday coldly states as she looks from Tyler to you. 

“Becoming obsessed with the monster in the woods, are we?” Tyler jokes.

“Okayyyy, and that’s enough interaction between the two of you. Wednesday here has to go play her cello and then she has a date to get ready for” you usher Tyler away and pull Wednesday in for a hug. You feel her stiffen and then immediately relax into your arms. “I will see you later, Lovely. Okay?” You kiss her cheek and send her on her way.

Feeling the stares from both Tyler and Xavier, you ignore both of them and make yourself a coffee before the lunch rush comes in. 

The rest of the shift goes by without a hitch, Xavier staying away from Tyler, and everyone staying away from you until it was time to close. You and Tyler head to your house so you can get ready for your date. 

“So what exactly did you plan for your date?” Tyler asks as he starts rummaging through the fridge looking for a snack.

“A dinner picnic. You can eat anything in that fridge but so help me if you touch the cheese. It’s for tonight.” You yell as you make your way up the stairs. Looking through your clothes, you decide on jeans and a sweater so that you will be warm in the cold night air. Walking back down stairs you get a picnic basket from the Hall closet and bring it into the kitchen. Getting some fancy bread, crackers, fruit and cheese you start loading it all up as Tyler sits there watching eating some form of food in an old takeout container. 

“Do you think shell like this?” You nervously ask, placing some drinks into the basket.

“I think she would literally let you sit there and just stare at her and she would have a good time. I mean you got kidnapped and she classified it as a date.” 

“You’re not wrong. Okay, foods packed, Im ready. You can stay if you want. My mom will be home in like an hour; you know she loves feeding you. I’m out.” You hug Tyler, leaving him in the house as you make your way to the gates of Nevermore. Pulling near the gates, you see Wednesday and you put the car in park and hop out. Grabbing the black roses you hid in the backseat, you make your way over to her and pull the passenger door open for her.

“I know you love black flowers, and these are a lot easier to find than black dahlias. I hope you like them.” You smile as you close her door and get in the drivers side. 

“Thank you for the flowers, not everyone can appreciate a dead flower. But I do.”

“Kay, so I promise im not bringing you to our next location to murder you. I feel like you could take me down and kill me faster than I could kill you, however, It is a spooky place, but that’s your vibe, and I want you to be comfortable.” You explain nervously as you start driving toward your destination. 

Pulling into an old cemetery you see a small smile at the corners of Wednesday’s lips. 

‘’This is an acceptable location for the date.” Wednesday tries to not seem excited.

You get the blanket and pillows while Wednesday grabs the picnic basket and you make your way to the back of the cemetery. Placing everything down, you and Wednesday begin to eat the snacks you prepared. 

“Can I ask something without you getting offended?” You cautiously ask Wednesday, making her put down her crackers.

“I suppose that’s okay. Go ahead.” She responds.

“What makes me different? Everyone else gets this cold version of you, but I seem to get a softer side.” You grab her hand and start drawing small circles on the back of her knuckles. 

“I don’t know what you mean. I treat you the same exact way I treat everyone else.” She argues but keeps her hand held within yours. 

“Oh really? So if anyone else held your hand, you’d be fine? Or if anyone else did this?” You lean forward and gently cup the side of Wednesday’s face and bring your lips to hers. You can feel her resist the kiss and you start to pull back thinking you made a huge mistake. As a wave of embarrassment begins to wash over you, you feel Wednesday's hands on each side of your head, tangling her hands in your hair, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss; neither of you stopping until you need to come up for air. You look over at Wednesday's flushed state and start to giggle. 

“So you would let anyone else do that? I have to say, if this is gonna work, I’m gonna need that to not happen.”

“If anyone else did that to me I would gouge their eyes out and deliver them to you on a bed of roses. Only you get to do that to me, there are a lot of things you make me feel that I can not explain. It should repel me, disgust me, but one look at your smile and I now understand why the sun dies for the moon each night. Before you, I was destined to live a lonely existence. But the mere thought of never seeing you again brings me a pain that for once, I do not enjoy. I am learning that there is more to life than solitude and just living to eventually die.” Leaning over Wednesday takes the initiative to lay herself slotted between your legs, her back to your chest as she brings your hands to hold hers as they rest on her stomach. Too shocked to say anything you just squeeze Wednesday further into your arms and rest your head on top of hers. You both enjoy each others company while staring at the stars and continuing to eat the snacks you packed. 

“So what are your parents like?” You ask. “I saw their photo in that weird library we went to.” 

“My parents have always loved each other more than life itself. Growing up with them was sickening; always having to see how much they loved each other. I also have a brother, his name is Pugsley. He’s defenseless at best, he’s the reason I got sent here. There were kids at school bullying him; they tied him up and shoved him in a locker. I don’t like when people mess with the people that I care about if you haven’t noticed. Eugene reminds me a lot of Pugsley, minus the urge to strangle him constantly.”

Wednesday gets a faraway look in her eyes as she talks more about her family, her Uncle Fester, Thing. 

“Wait wait wait! So he’s actually just a hand? Like just the hand, no arm, no body and he’s able to communicate and move?” You ask excitedly, wanting to meet him immediately.

“It’s one of the great Addams Family mysteries. He’s over there by that headstone if you want to meet him. He was with us in the library as well. You’re kind of unobservant.” Wednesday laughs and snaps her fingers calling Thing over.

“Thing, this is y/n, y/n this is Thing.” Wednesday introduces.

You squeal with excitement. “Ohhhh my god. Can i pick him up? He’s so cute!” 

Thing tilts his nub of a wrist and confusingly looked at Wednesday. 

“Go ahead, she wants you to.” Wednesday reassures him. Thing walks on his fingers over to you and climbs up your leg making his was to your outstretched hand. You begin to coo and pet his palm.

“I love him, I want to take him home. He’s like a little bunny rabbit that you don’t need to feed or water.” That comment gets you flicked in the hand by Thing and you look down at him scoldingly. “Heyy. I was calling you cute, don’t make me put you in the car.” You threaten and nuzzle his palm into your hands using it they way you would rub a dogs stomach. 

“He may act like he hates it, but he actually loves the attention. He’s like a dog.” Wednesday explains as she makes him get down on her shoulder so she can take your hands in hers again. 

As you both continue to lay there you start to hear a rustling in the woods behind you. Looking over, Thing has left, already going to investigate. Grabbing Wednesdays hand with worry you pull the both of you to your feet and start packing all of the remaining food, blankets and pillows and rush to the car. 

“We need to go back and get Thing.” You breathlessly tell Wednesday.

“Thing will be fine, its what he’s made for.” Wednesday calmly states. 

“Wednesday, you said he was family. I don’t know if you’ve watched Lilo and Stitch, but no one gets left behind.” You yell, making your way back to where you were seated in the cemetery to attempt to locate Thing with Wednesday trailing behind you. Trying to remain calm you slowly make your way into the opening of the woods and are immediately met with what sounded like loud footsteps. Grabbing Wednesday and turning around to run you both stop in your tracks as you’re assaulted by the light of a bright flashlight being shone directly in your eyes.

Taglist: @athenablack1959 @lovelyy-moonlight @wednesdayiswoe @@deadpool-in-a-snood @lixeira @laurenmusic17 @antilost @donnabenevientosbitch @greygsworld @yukiunoo @dumb-ass2 @futurepiratekingfluffy @cupiocalamity @ladey

[deathbydarkelves]

🪶☀️Elor'belo -- The Long Sun festival☀️🪶

In a moment of autistic genius, I came up with a whole new kaldorei holiday, centered around a long-distance hippogryph race. Big ol' info dump incoming.

Throughout the year, as the nights and days lengthen and shorten, Elune and the sun (or An'she, as I'll call it/him from now on. I know that's the tauren name but I think it works for the kaldorei to call him that too) are constantly in a race against each other. As An'she tires in winter, the days shorten and Elune overtakes him. Then as she tires in summer, the nights shorten and An'she overtakes her.

So, every year on the summer solstice, the day Elune is most tired from racing An'she, kaldorei hippogryph riders race him in her stead. They race from dawn to noon, traveling east to west and ending at the peak of Mt. Hyjal, the highest point on Kalimdor, to intimidate him with their racing prowess even when he is highest in the sky. Then as he falls, exhausted, Elune can continue the race again. In 7-8 hours, the racers cover almost 350 miles/~560 km. They start in eastern Hyjal the moment dawn breaks, then fly down to Ashenvale, then weave back up through the mountains to the peak of Mt. Hyjal.

Now, since the in-game world is TINY, I've decided to approximate Kalimdor's "real" north-south length to be ABOUT 4,000 mi/6,400 km. That makes it a bit smaller than South America. Or, because this is how my brain processes distance: Sam and Frodo would have to walk their path from the Shire to Mordor 2-3 times (depending on who you ask) to cover the same distance.

With that in mind, here's a rough approximation of the route, using the wonky proportions of the in-game map because I haven't made my own yet (</3):

The race has changed over time. Historically, it went from dawn to dusk, starting in Azshara, going through Ashenvale, some years going as far west as Darkshore, then ending on Mt. Hyjal. But over time and as circumstances on Kalimdor changed, the race was shortened both in time and in length. Lots of riders and hippogryphs alike would become dangerously exhausted during the historic 14-16 hour long race, Azshara is mostly Horde territory now, Darkshore is... not doing so hot right now, and so on.

Here's a, again, very rough approximation of the historical route:

And that's the "official" race, which is often initiated and attended by the High Priestess and Archdruid themselves. There are multiple smaller festivals/races across Kalimdor, but they all follow the same concept: race An'she east to west from dawn to noon, and end at the highest point possible. Some places even still run from dawn to dusk, as some believe the health risks are just something one has to deal with when racing a god, and that they're worth it to race on Elune's behalf.

Besides the race itself, the night prior there's always a huge festival with food and song and dance to hype up the racers. And the night after the race there's even more, this time with additional ceremonies, prayers, and offerings to Elune to help her get her "second wind" as it were.

Importantly, the overall spirit of the race and festival is one of friendly competition. The kaldorei aren't, like, ideologically opposed to the sun lol. It's vital for most life, and they know that. They race An'she to keep things fair between him and Elune.

And, of course, Elor'belo exists as a way for people to get together and enjoy good food and music, and cheer for their favorite racer(s). Here's some of the sorts of characters you might see competing because I need practice drawing hippogryphs anyway:

Miscellaneous notes:

The race distance is meant to be almost the maximum distance someone could ride in the time given. Only about 20% of racers can even do so with minutes to spare, with the remaining 80% finishing in the early-to-mid afternoon. But in the event someone does reach Mt. Hyjal well before noon, there's a second leg that takes them through Nordrassil's branches up to its very top. Very few people have ever completed that second leg before noon, and it's a very good omen for the rest of the year when someone does.

Different species of hippogryphs have different top speeds and stamina levels. Each has its own pros and cons when it comes to a race like this, which relies on both speed and endurance, and you'll always see a wide variety in the competitors.

On a related note: In the days of Queen Azshara, hippogryphs were selectively bred for different appearances and endurance levels, etc., like horses. That practice ended after the Sundering because in the new, more druidic culture of the kaldorei, it became a bit of a controversial topic to breed creatures as intelligent as hippogryphs. As a result most of those breeds are extinct now, but a handful of them are still kicking around with their own self-sustaining populations. That piebald one pictured above is an example.

The quel'- and sin'dorei have their own version of Elor'belo where they race Elune on the winter solstice. Since there aren't very many Thalassian words (with translations), and no fanmade dictionary I'm aware of, I'm thinking of just calling it Elor'elun ("Long Moon").

Baldur by Faun is the song that gave me the idea for this entire thing. I highly recommend giving it a listen, it's a bop.

[sweetsmollthings]

Ok so with my post about external shrinking triggers I did keep thinking on it more and wrote something……

Contains: shrinking in spurts, triggered by keywords; shrinking to about 5’3”; shrinking to about 3’6”; shrinking to 3”; an almost-kidnapping; a rescue; fear and angst; probably inaccurate grocery store things (because the author has never worked in customer service jobs)

“Ah—!”

Paige jolted, then looked towards the neighboring cashier. “Val? Are you—?”

“Don’t talk to me,” Val snapped, yanking out her earbuds much too fast (which she clearly regretted, judging from how she winced) and fumbling with her phone. Paige faintly heard a snippet of whatever she was listening to (something about miniatures?) before she finally managed to turn it off.

Paige frowned. The brusque attitude wasn’t unexpected—in all the time they had worked together, Val had always avoided talking to coworkers and customers alike, pointedly keeping her earbuds on to drown out everybody else. She probably took the late night shift to interact with as few people as possible (which, fair); even so, Paige would have liked some appreciation. She considered leaving her alone as requested.

…But the way that Val curled up, clutching her phone tight, breathing much too fast, was too concerning to ignore.

“Hey,” Paige said softly, moving closer. “Deep breaths, alright? Let’s calm down—wait, why are you so short??”

Maybe that was a strange thing to focus on for what was clearly a panic attack, but when someone was a whole head shorter than they should be, how could you not comment on it?

And, when someone got even shorter right before your eyes, could you blame a person for getting derailed? “Wha— huh??? What??? You—“

“Shut up,” Val hissed, shooting out a hand to presumably cover Paige’s mouth, but clearly misjudging the distance because she ended up bopping Paige on the chin instead. Her short sleeves billowed with the movement. Her other hand held a now too-big shirt to her chest. “Just—go away! I’m taking a break—“ Val suddenly grabbed her pants in the middle of turning around, stopping them from falling. Paige saw her ears go red.

“I, um,” Paige stuttered, then wordlessly retreated to her cash register and tried to be normal about this. Don’t stare, don’t stare, don’t stare…

It was impossible. Paige snuck a glance and startled, at first thinking that Val had gotten even smaller, but no. She was just crouching down. Hiding, probably.

Paige hesitated, then reached over to turn off Val’s checkstand light.

After a very quiet half hour, Val stood up again. Full height, this time. She glared at Paige. “Don’t say a word. To anyone.”

Paige nodded. (Not like anybody would believe her.) “So…about all that…”

But Val was already plugging in her earbuds, back to tuning out the world.

…Well. Probably best not to pry.

-

After that incident, Val seemed to put extra effort into avoiding Paige at all costs. Which wasn’t difficult, especially since Paige decided to not pursue the many questions she had. Whatever happened, it wasn’t any of her business. Maybe it never happened in the first place. Maybe she had been dreaming or delirious—never mind that she had felt totally awake—after all, shrinking was obviously impossible.

The unspoken arrangement worked out well. At least until one day, passing by the bathroom door, someone grabbed Paige’s arm.

Screeching, she swung a fist towards the offender and only hit the door (ow). As she nursed her hand, she actually looked at the door and saw Val peeking from behind it. At a much lower angle than she should be. Like, way lower. “Change the song,” she begged, which was…sorta creepy, actually.

“Huh?” Paige said, still trying to reconcile Val’s current impossible height and shift in demeanor.

“On the PA, stupid!” she hissed. (Ah, there we go.) But it turned into a whimper as, all of a sudden, she shot down a few inches. Above them, the speakers cheerfully sang, “a little bit of Monica in my life, a little bit of Erica by my side…”

“R-right! Hang on,” Paige said, running to the office. Somehow, she managed to make it before the chorus ended.

When she ran back, the bathroom door was closed again. She knocked. “It’s me. Are you…okay?”

The only answer was a clumsy click as the door opened again. Val peeked out, definitely much shorter. Child-sized, even. She clearly had to reach up for the door handle and looked miserable about that fact. “Thanks,” she mumbled. Then, “I need you to help me home.”

Glancing around to make sure nobody was watching, Paige crouched down. “Can’t you just grow back? You did last time.”

“It’s past midnight,” Val explained bitterly. “I’m stuck like this for now. Just get me home. You have a car, don’t you? It’s just a…quick drive.”

“But my shift isn’t over,” Paige said, then realized how ridiculous that was in this context. “Um. Okay. Just…follow me, I guess.”

Val opened the door a little wider and waddled out, hefting a bundle of what seemed to be almost all her clothes—thankfully, she still had a dress on. That is, her shirt, which was long enough to be a dress. Or rather, she was small enough for it to be a dress. The bundle looked like it would explode out of her arms and Paige briefly considered offering to hold it for her, but then decided that would be too weird.

“I’m gonna just quickly check the carts,” Paige told the manager, who just waved her off, not even looking up from his phone. Val padded behind her on bare feet, ducking her head even though she really didn’t need to. She couldn’t be seen over the register even if she stood up straight.

It was as quick a drive as Val said, just across the street and around the corner. Completely walkable, under normal circumstances. But under abnormal circumstances, Val needed to be helped in and out of the car and escorted to the steps. She couldn’t even unlock the door on her own. Val didn’t say a word the whole time, not even a thank you before shutting the door in Paige’s face.

-

So clearly, for whatever reason, Val shrunk any time she heard any word that meant “small” and grew back at midnight, like some sort of bizarre Cinderella. Her general demeanor made a lot more sense now. Why be friendly with people if conversations were a landmine for triggering a…curse? Probably a curse. This seemed pretty curse-like.

Being privy to this secret didn’t afford Paige any exemption to Val’s antipathy, though. It did afford her a lot more requests for help, and while she did understand that she was probably the only one who could help (since the cat was out of the bag anyways), it was sort of getting stressful, considering that most of the requests involved sneaking her out of work. Sometimes when she wasn’t even that small.

“Can’t you get noise-cancelling headphones or something?” Paige asked tersely on one of their secret drives.

Val looked at her, surprised. Even after their arrangement began, they never really exchanged words during the drives. It was just a given that they should be done in silence. After a long pause, she tugged at her shirt (which wasn’t even that baggy this time) and replied, “They hurt after a while. And it’s not like they work perfectly.”

“It’s better than nothing. I can’t keep doing this for you, I’ll lose my job.”

Val glared hard at the glovebox. “Okay. Got it,” she said coldly, sending a twinge of guilt through Paige. But really, it was unreasonable to ask her to do this. She wasn’t in the wrong here. Val should be figuring out how to handle this herself.

-

“Who’s that?”

Paige blinked, coming out of her automatic check-out mode, and looked at where the shopper pointed. “Huh? Val?”

The shopper nodded. “Thanks. I don’t need a receipt.”

“Alright,” Paige said slowly. That…was a little weird, right? Should she tell Val? But it’s been pretty awkward ever since their last conversation. And she could handle herself. She should handle herself, really. Paige wasn’t her keeper.

When their shift ended, Paige got into her car and headed home—her home, not Val’s. Which, of course, was how it should be. It was late. She needed some sleep before class. They weren’t friends.

…

Sighing heavily, Paige turned around and drove back to the road she had grown so familiar with, peering ahead for any sign of a person on the empty sidewalks. As she approached Val’s house, her headlights caught a lone figure, crouching close to the ground, over a pile of clothes—

Paige quickly parked, launched herself out of her car, and punched the shopper from before in the solar plexus. In one fluid motion, she scooped up the clothes and retreated, jumping back in (and knocking her head on the top of her car, ow), and slamming the door behind her—wait, was Val even in the clothes? She couldn’t feel her weight, did she drop her? Paige tore at the bundle of clothes in her lap and yes, she could see a small form squirming around, thank god—

The shopper suddenly slammed a hand on her window and she screamed, dropping Val in the cupholder and slamming on the gas. She didn’t stop until fifteen minutes later, when it was pretty clear there was no car following her. She pulled to the side of the road. “Okay, pretty sure we’re good,” she announced. “Let’s get you out of—“

The tiny hand that slapped at her fingers when she reached into the cupholder barely registered, but Paige flinched back anyways. As the adrenaline wore off, she became aware of soft crying.

And with that came the extra awareness of how…small Val was at the moment, the smallest she’d ever seen her. So small that she fit in a cupholder. So small, she could easily be whisked away.

“I-I’ve never—it’s never been th-this bad before,” Val managed between sobs, tripping over her self-censorship. “Wh-what if I don’t grow back this time?”

“I mean, you always grow back, right? No reason that’ll change. You’ll be normal again in…” …twenty-two hours.

Paige flinched as the wailing just grew louder. Not by much. Being just a few inches tall affected your volume, as it turns out.

“…Want to go to my place?” Paige offered meekly. Neither of them brought up the obvious fact that Val couldn’t stay at her own place. Possibly couldn’t ever go back, considering that her would-be kidnapper knew where she lived.

The cupholder gave no answer other than more weeping. So Paige just quietly drove home.

[raayllum]

“Something else troubles you,” Opeli said more warmly after a beat. Ezran sighed and took a seat on his throne. Soren and Corvus were his crownguard (and occasional speech helpers) but Opeli was his political confidant. His guide as king. And yet sometimes, the path before him still felt insurmountable, no matter how steady she was and how willing he was to put in the work. The fact the world had almost ended and Aaravos was still technically a threat didn’t help matters. “Callum and Rayla want to go find a weapon that can supposedly kill Startouch elves,” he reiterated. “To end Aaravos for good. But I don’t know if that’s the right thing to do... and on our quest into Xadia, we met an Archdragon and a pirate captain, and...” We offered gifts that meant a lot to us, but they don’t mean anything to you... Sentiment’s worth even less than steel here, lad. Ezran rubbed at his face. “I just don’t get how people can not care,” he admitted. “How can do they do that? How can they just not care? How can they just... not react, or respond, or think about the bigger picture other than themselves? Katolis... we have to lead the way towards peace. We can’t afford to fall back into the cycle that’s already taken so much from us. I understand anger. I don’t understand apathy or—or selfishness. Sometimes it feels like I’m the only one who values peace and the path it takes to get there.”  “Most people can only care about so much, King Ezran. There are many who are sworn to ideals, like myself to Lady Justice, or to notions coupled with people—Soren and Corvus protect you because you are their friend, but also because you are their king. But there are others whose scope is much smaller and just as deep. At the end of the day,” she said, reaching down to place a hand on his shoulder, and offer a small smile, “most people just want to see their friends and family safe. The end of the world is something the holy books attempt to describe, but even gospel and prophecy can only do so much to turn people’s heads and inspire their hearts. 

X

“You know it’s not the same. Zubeia saw Zym and changed her mind. The Moonshadow elf—” “Oh, so he’s the elf now? His name is Runaan—” “He saw the egg and he would’ve still killed both of us!” “You think I don’t know that?” “Then how you can not care?” Ezran cried, voice cracking. His nose was runny, eyes stinging again. He bit something back. He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t lose this argument just because he was crying. There was a fire in his chest that couldn’t be doused. “I do care, but I also care—I care more about Rayla,” Callum countered, because of course that’s what he’d fucking say. Ezran turned away from him, rolling his eyes and not in the mood to see Callum gesture at him. “She’s our family, why isn’t that—” Ezran turned back to him, incensed, a hand on his chest. “I’m your family! Who was here, huh, while she was gone and you were falling apart? Who was here keeping Dad’s kingdom from disaster while you off playing High Mage with your stupid fucking mirror? I had to do it all on my own —why can’t you be on my side for once?” “You had Opeli and the rest of the council,” Callum said. “Don’t you get it? We’re all she has, we have to be on her side, she doesn’t have—” “AND I WANT YOU TO BE MY BROTHER!”

Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 of "teach me how to name the bigger light"

[circusmania]

SIN Chapter 11

𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑

Notes: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

⚠️ Death (are we surprised?) ⚠️

♡

𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑

Though I am aware I am falling, I feel no wind blow in my face. It's almost as if there's no wind at all. As if I'm floating instead of falling. The only way I know I'm falling is because I'm getting closer and closer to a blue light. 

And then, I slammed on the ground. I looked up, Omar's body was nowhere, as if it had evaporated. 

In front of me was a large, light blue clock that gleamed. 

Tick Tick 

It sounded throughout the whole pocket dimension. 

I got up, approached the clock and reached for it, but my hand fazed right through it. Suddenly, I hear a soft thump behind me. I look back to see Marcus, he's normal again. 

“You've got quite a knack for getting away, should I cut off your arms and legs next rese-”

“What is this place?”

There's an awkward silence as Marcus stares.

“The in-between.” He says.

“The clock ticks for as long as this timeline is alive. After it collapses, the clock stops. Then, I come here, apply my changes and the clock restarts.” He continues.

I turn back toward the clock. “How long has it been going for?”

He looks at the clock. “This timeline? Roughly 36 hours.”

“WHAT!? But I've been here for weeks!”

“Have you? On certain, more important days, time slows. On others, time skips itself. I like to keep a fast pace, I don't like to wait.”

I stare in silence, and then I look away. “You said the clock stops after the timeline collapses… Why is it still going?”

“Because you're still alive, my dear. I misspoke, it stops after MY world 'collapses'.” He smirks and I grimace.

“You said you come here to also 'apply changes'?” I tried to change the subject.

His smirk widens. 

“Yes! Each of my timelines is different, and here is where I change 'em.”

He turns around and looks into the void. He waved his hand and up came an interactive light blue panel with a bunch of codes written on it. I walk up next to him and stare up at the panel. 

“Here,” He pointed to the codes. “These codes make up a timeline. Everything is made up of code. Well… almost everything. Our matter isn't... we are... We. I can't change how one feels. Though, I did implant my own codes.”

He waved his hand and suddenly, the green digits turned to a selected one. There, I saw pictures of... us. It looked like a game video where you select your character... He touched my photo, which opened to its own “code”. Though it was less complex and the code was shorter. 

The very first code caught my eye. Amongst the symbols, it was written: “Memory refresh: every reset.”

I hummed. “How do you write each code?”

He grinned as a keyboard came up from the panel. “It's just like typing on a computer.”

I looked down and then back up. “So, like this?” 

I took the mouse, clicked on the 'memory code' bar and added the caret to the end of the code. 

“Ah! Ah! Careful there, dear. You wouldn't want to erase anything important!” Marcus grabbed my hand and shoved me on the keyboard, moving the mouse away. 

“Marcus-” He released my hand and went down to caress my inner thighs. My left hand moved to press the delete button...

 “Oh, how I wish we could just stop this cat-and-mouse chase, hun. What good does it do us both?” His hands trailed up my body.

“I-”

“Doesn't it grow tiring? I know I'm tired. I could just force you to love me, but where's the romance in that?”

His hands moved to my neck, crushing it. 

“Agh! Marcu-!” I gasped.

He... he's crushing my neck! Not choking, CRUSHING.

I struggled, but as he said before, he wasn't a man of patience. My voice emitted a gurgling sound as the clock stopped ticking.

˖⁺‧��˚🌃🌄🌅˚₊‧⁺˖

“Mmmm…” I groaned as I got up from my bed. 

My room felt smaller… I got up and looked down from my window, I was in an… apartment. 

Oh! Ah... yes, I remember!! 

Marcus must've changed the settings for this timeline. 

Hm. Deleting that memory code was a smart move, I'm disappointed I hadn't known about it sooner. Or maybe I had... just wasn't fast enough...

I sigh, pick up the clothing off my bed and put it on. 

Suddenly, I hear a throat being cleared behind me. I turn and see... Omar.

“You're up early.” He said, smiling, though I could hear a hint of coldness.

He must still be... mad about our last interaction. 

I wonder how Vanessa and... Judy feels.

“Ah, I'm not that tired,” I reply, just now noticing the other bed in the dorm room. Omar is my roommate... huh.

I flash him a smile and walk out. His eyes follow me until I exit. The hallway is empty... Though, by the look of this establishment, I must be in a university. 

I guess he had gotten bored with the usual high school. 

“Ahem.” A voice behind me clears her throat... again.

I turn around (again...) to see... Judy.

“You failed...”

My heart sank, I opened my mouth and-

“... The tryouts.”

“What?” I look at her dumbfounded. 

“You didn't get into the team. Better luck next time... If they'll be one.” She shows me a paper which has the team on it.

I looked at the paper she pulled up. Amongst the list, my name was indeed not on it.

Oh.

Although, I knew what Judy was hinting at. 

I wanted to say something, anything, an apology... But I couldn't. It's too early, I can't risk it. 

“Ah... well, better luck next time, ha ha!”

Judy nods.

...

“See you around...?” 

Judy raises her head.

“You're not coming to class?”

“Ah... no, not today. I'm not feeling it.”

“You're skipping? You never skip...-”

“Ah well, there's a first time for everything, eh?”

I wave her goodbye and run away. Okay, I need to find that panel without causing the world to collapse. 

Maybe if I delete or code it some way, I can put an end to this. 

I won't have any luck trying to find it myself... I need to ask someone.

Marcus is off the table.

Vanessa would be too suspicious.

Judy... I don't think she's even aware of it.

Omar... Marcus's “second in command”.

He obviously won't give it to me willingly... so I need to SOMEHOW get him to be on my side.

Which worked REALLY well last time... God, he saw it coming the moment Judy died...

I already made him suspicious of me waking up early... Hm. 

I also haven't seen Marcus yet... Where is he? 

And — like a moth to a flame — I hear chattering from around the corner. I turn and see... what the hell.

It's Marcus... but he's crowded by… fangirls…? 

...

You'd think that after my last stunt, he'd want to avoid as much distraction as possible. 

That he'd want to have all eyes on me... Not the opposite.

I quickly turn and walk outside the university. 

Outside was the same as it's always been, except the church, who was now just a magazine store dedicated to Marcus. 

Give me a break, who's he trying to impress?...

I arrived back at the university, I have fifty missed calls from Judy, but yet I can't bring myself to call back. 

I avoid Judy like the plague and make my way to my dorm. Omar is already there, getting ready for bed. 

It's strange... how it was morning, and now it's night.

“Oh. You're finally back.”

“Yeah.... uhm... did you see the new guy?” I try to play it off.

He lights up. “Marcus? The model?”

“Yeah. Must be quite obnoxious having a crowd follow you all day. Was trying to get a better look, but the crowd was too big.”

“Yeah... I guess? That's what you were doing all day?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Well, no, obviously not. I was checking out the new magazine store.”

“Ah yes, the one that I told you about? Have you checked out any of the myth magazines? They're pretty interesting.”

“Didn't find 'em... the place was littered with someone's face.”

He turned away, folding some clothes. I could tell he was smiling, though.

“Oh, when you get the chance, make sure to call Judy. She was freaking out all day.”

“Mm, will do.”

I smiled and went into the bathroom to change into my pyjamas. I came back soon, Omar was in bed. He was breathing softly, maybe not sound asleep, but I had to make my move now. 

I walk to Omar's bed, get on him and start to straddle him... and then I start to choke him.

He awakens quickly and tries to pry me off. He would've easily succeeded if he hadn't lost that much air while gasping. 

“W-what- Are you--”

“The panel. Where is it?”

“P--Panel??”

“You're Marcus's second in command, and you don't know about the panel??”

“GAH! W-wHAT!??”

“SHH. The clock! The-The codes! The Inbetween!”

He stopped wailing, hands still gripping mine. I let him inhale more air.

“The ... Inbetween?”

“Yes-”

Suddenly we switched positions, and I was the one being choked.

“HE TOOK YOU THERE?!”

“AH! Fuck! Let-GAH!” I gripped his arms. “OMAR SToP! Do you know what Marcus will do if HAH!” I gasp as Omar lets go of my neck.

“O-Oh... my god... hah... I wasn't actually going to choke you to death...” I gasp.

“How was I supposed to know? After what you did to Judy and Vanessa...”

I looked away, ashamed. “Do you know where it is...?”

“And I should tell you because...?”

“Well... you'd be helping us get one step closer to freedom...”

“Did you not listen to my last monologue? I have POWER here.”

“Power? Omar Marcus wiped the floor with you last time. You have no power here. In his eyes, you're just like Judy and Vanessa...”

He stayed silent.

“Don't you miss the real world? The taste of freedom? The feeling of being able to have a family? That one day, you'll pass?”

“...”

“This time ONLY. And you better hope that we don't get caught.” He said as he got up.

I sat up and slid off the bed.

“The panel is located in the inbetween, which only opens up with Marcus's scythe, which breaks the timeline or Marcus himself.”

“Marcus's scythe? The thing you had last time? What does it do?”

“Wreaks havoc, destroys everything in its path.”

“So... if I get my hands on it…”

“If you think you'd be able to stop Marcus with a scythe, you'd be dead wrong. Who would be dumb enough to create something that kills its own creator?”

None of us answered the question.

“Okay... well, where do you find it?”

“Well it used to be in the church, above the altar, then it was in Marcus's house and as of now — after the last timeline — he keeps it on himself.”

“Fuck… that makes it ten times harder…” I groan in defeat.

“Well, technically, if you got close enough to the panel, you COULD code the scythe to spawn somewhere else…” Omar hinted.

“... How do I get to the Inbetween?”

“Well, besides ending a whole timeline, there is another way down… You’ll need to go to the basement of the university, then take the thousand-step staircase down until you reach the bottom, aka the Inbetween.”

“Refreshing. You’re not coming with me?”

“No. I’ll lead you to where the basement is, but that’s it. I don’t want to be held accountable. If you get caught, that’s on you.”

I was going to say something… but he’s right. I wouldn’t want to meet Marcus wrath twice… And so I nod.

“Alright, well let’s go. I don’t want to waste any more time than I already have.”

He nods back, and so we start walking out the dorm and through the university. Omar doesn’t say anything to me as he leads me to the basement. 

I try to initiate a conversation.

“So, uhm… I haven’t seen Vanessa… Where is she?”

Omar scoffed. “She’s out there crying. Apparently, dying by your hands really took a toll on her. Guess she’s finally coming to terms with reality.”

I purse my lips. I forgot that Omar is not who I thought he was. Not my best friend anymore.

We soon reached two big doors, they looked like the doors that close during a fire in schools. Big metal doors. 

I step closer and try to open them, though they don’t budge. I open my mouth, but Omar pushes me aside, and he opens the door, though he’s visibly struggling. 

 “Ah… these doors aren’t really meant to be opened. That’s why they’re so heavy. Usually, if you were to touch it, you’d blindly turn away since these doors were designed to give you second thoughts. It takes a lot of want to open these doors.” 

I look inside, it’s pitch black inside, besides the faint glow of the stairs. I take a step forward, then another until I’m past the doors. 

I look back at Omar. 

“You’ve come far, it’s the farthest you’ve ever gotten.” He smiles before closing the doors. 

I look back down and start walking. It takes a long while to get down. It’s neither cold nor hot, neither lukewarm nor room temperature, it’s a weird feeling. 

Eventually, I came across a large crack between the stairs, separating them by 15 meters. I couldn’t make that jump even if I tried, no way. I would definitely fall. 

Should I just turn back? But if I fall and splat on the ground I’ll just reset… and then I’ll have to find everything all over again. Not to mention Marcus will find out. 

Omar was right, it’s a real sense of wanting. 

I jumped off.

My body reacts and I get chills running down my spine… but I don’t fall. Well, I am falling, just slowly, as if I was but a feather. 

I don’t know if this is faster than walking but… I guess it works. 

I soon reach the end, the faint glow of the clock welcomes me and so does its ticks. 

The clock has been going for roughly about two hours and 28 minutes… which seems impossible but… honestly I’m not even surprised. 

I walk over to the void and wave my hand for the control panel, and it appears. I quickly start browsing, searching for any code to stop the madness. 

Though, ultimately, I find nothing…

Well, maybe not nothing. My eyes land on a familiar scythe.

I reach for it, and it opens up its own panel. It has its name; Alter. Mm. 

There was a code as you looked lower, dedicated to where the scythe would spawn. It was put as Marcus’s spiked wristband… how does that work, don’t ask me. I wrote a new code, where it would spawn in my pocket instead. 

I would have to act quickly next reset, he’d surely realize. 

My hand leaves the keyboard and I move to turn around when a sharp pain punctures my stomach. 

I gag and choke, I turn back and see Vanessa standing there. 

Fuck. 

I curse as I kick her feet, making her stumble. 

I cry out as Vanessa continues to stab me wherever she can reach. 

I yell, whine… spots of black start to cloud my vision. 

Though, she doesn’t stop. 

The art of revenge.

𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑𖦹๋࣭⭑

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