#only thing killing my mood is this one mosquito. i killed the rest of them

[butchnavi]

everything ok bestie?

YESSS IT'S ACTUALLY RARE EUPHORIA HOURS WHY DO YOU ASK

[polarisbibliotheque]

Dante & Vergil with their s/o hunting bloodthirsty mosquitoes (+Nero with Kyrie doing the same)

Pairings: Dante x Reader; Vergil x Reader; Nero x Kyrie Summary: Oh, summer. Heatwaves, short clothes, ice cream... And mosquitoes. A human hunting down a mosquito is one thing, but a half-demon? Well, those little hellish beings better be ready for it. Author's notes: You're probably thinking yours truly lost all her sanity, and you're probably right. It's the second day of spring here where I live and it's so freaking hot, the only thing I've been able to eat the last few days was ice cream. It's usually hot as hell here in Brazil, but not this time of the year - December/January/February are the most unbelievably hot months in my city. And, of course, the mosquitoes have to rise from hell itself to buzz in your ears while you try to sleep and suck your blood, ginving you terrible rashes in the morning. I killed four of them the past two days and yesterday, I had to enlist my sister to help hunt one of them down. This little fic might have something to do with that incident xD

I had to write something and laugh at all those goofs trying to be functional normal humans. That's it. It's all ridiculous fluff and laughs while melting from too much heat, hope you guys enjoy ^^

Dante

“Ya know, if ya clap those really fast, you might summon a demon.”

You just looked back at Dante with murder in your eyes.

The red devil stood by the stairs, having his arms crossed and leaning by the guardrail, that characteristic grin spreading across his lips.

You wanted to throw the flip flops in your hands right at his face – maybe that would get rid of that insufferable cocky smile.

Sometimes you understood Vergil in a soul level.

“If said demon decimates the freaking mosquito who’s been testing my sanity for the past hour, I’m all in.” You turned your eyes back to the ceiling, searching for that single little thing that took peace away from you that day.

The shop wasn’t the most comfortable place in the world, that you had to admit, but the last couple of days were hotter than the layers of fire in Hell itself – Vergil would argue, but even he realized it wasn’t wise to discuss with you when you were melting faster than an ice cream on asphalt.

The heat, however, brought along the mosquito wave.

Hence why you were on the top of Dante’s desk, barefoot, sporting your peak summer style, flip flops ready to kill. Hearing Dante making fun of that situation wasn’t really aligned to your mood at that moment.

“Eh, already…?” Dante still had the smile plastered on his lips, casually approaching the desk. He was one to talk: given how hot it was, he was wearing only his pants, completely barefoot and shirtless – and even then, you questioned how he could walk around with those heavy, black pants without falling apart. “Thought these little fuckers would take a lot more time to appear.”

“Well, apparently they thought the same and figured a surprise attack would be more efficient.” You just heard his giggle as you kept on looking everywhere near the ceiling, round and round the desk. Dante rested his arms on it, casually looking up to watch you.

He couldn’t deny, it was funny. All that made him smile and relax: it was so mundane, so… Human. To think one day he’d be at his shop with his most beloved being in all dimensions, worrying about heatwaves and nagging mosquitoes; watching as you practically danced around on his desk, hunting mosquitoes with all the might in the world. As if you both didn’t hunt demons for a living.

As if life was just like that… Perfectly mundane.

“You give’em more credit than they deserve, babe.” Dante leaned his head in one of his hands, watching you with dreamy eyes. At the peak of your annoyance, you never thought the son of Sparda would look at you so lovingly – then again, he wasn’t an ordinary man.

“Oh, I don’t think so, hot stuff.” Your answer was mindless, making Dante open a huge, radiant smile, sparkling as much as his eyes. “Those things come directly from the layers of Hell, I’m certain of it.” You finally put your arms down, looking back at Dante and finding him with that unexpected expression. “What…?”

“You called me hot stuff, hot stuff.” He winked back, making you realize your ‘mistake’.

It wasn’t really a mistake. But Dante would definitely become even more insufferable with that.

“I blame the mosquitoes from Hell.” Your answer was ridiculous but sure, making Dante burst into laughs as he circled the table to sit on his big chair.

“That’d be a great name for a metal band. The Mosquitoes From Hell.” He laughed even more, resting his feet on a small spot on the table, making sure it wouldn’t interfere with your hunt.

“There you go. You, Verge and Nero can play together now.” You didn’t have much fun in your voice, going back to searching your nemesis in the air. Dante snorted a laugh, knowing you were joking – even if you were too focused to make it obvious.

“Dressed as vampires, it’d be perfect!”

But you couldn’t remain too serious around Dante for a long time. As soon as he added that, you closed your eyes, resting your wrists on your waist, letting out a sigh along a laugh. Imagining them all dressed as vampires, playing together as mosquitoes from Hell was too much – Dante now had your attention, beating the rogue mosquito you couldn’t find anymore.

You eyed him back, having a half smile on your lips. Dante was relaxed as he could be, his arms on the back of his head, helping him rest as he watched you with all the interest in the world.

“C’mon. I’d be one hell of a vampire!�� Once again, he had that smile on his lips – sprinkled with a little more happiness now that you were into it.

“You’d be the sexiest one for sure, Mr. it’s-too-hot-to-wear-shirts.” You pointed back at him with one of the flip flops still in your hand, making Dante smile even more – a little blushed, but that could be because of the heat. “Dante!”

Without thinking twice, he caught your hand and pulled you to him, making you both rock on the chair violently as you tried not to end up on the floor. But Dante was strong and used to a lot more difficult tricks, having you on his lap, both legs secured by one of his hands on his right side. You had to let go of the flip flops, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, as both of you laughed.

“A reckless vampire too!” You finally put some distance between your faces as you were finally settled, finding Dante’s blushed cheeks as he laughed while still looking at you with adoration in his eyes. “Well, well. You got my attention now, cowboy.”

If only Dante knew how much you loved seeing him like that – completely human, vulnerable, having fun, as if none of the heavy burdens from his past weighted on his soul anymore.

“I’m happy, then. I was feeling a little ignored, babe.” He chuckled back, still blushing. Whenever it was hot like that, Dante had a tendency to be as red as an apple – and you didn’t complain. In a certain way, it was cute. As cute as a half-demon son of Sparda could be.

“I’m never ignoring you, babe.” You murmured, brushing some of his stray white hair away from his eyes, giving room to those beautiful skies that always allowed you to see his soul. Dante would always allow you to see him like that. “You better be ready for some undivided attention.”

“Hmmm, I could use a little o’ that…”

You barely waited for Dante to finish his sentence, catching his lips in a slow kiss. Dante rested one of his hands on the back of your neck, after brushing some of your hair back.

It was hot as Hell, yes. But not even that would stop you from loving your red devil.

Only one thing ever could.

mmmmmmMMMMMMMMMMeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEppppPPPPP!

“Fuck, you weren’t kiddin’…!” Dante immediately let go of your lips, having the peak of annoyance in his beautiful blue eyes. “Where’s that little shit?! Did you hear it too?!”

“That’s precisely what I’ve been through for the last hours, my beloved.” You had the most annoyed smile plastered on your lips, eyes closed as if you were trying to maintain yourself calm. “I told you. When you least expect it, that spawn from Hell will meep furiously in your ears, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Oh, there is.” Now Dante put you aside, taking your flip flops and climbing on the desk. “I’m gonna obliterate that lil’ bastard!”

“Now that I’d love to see.” Oh, how tables had turned. There you were, sitting on his big chair, arms crossed, cocky grin in your lips, watching that brick house of a man using his enhanced demonic senses to find the darn mosquito. “Who would’ve known. Good to deal with demonic pests and mundane pests.”

“Oh, look who’s bein’ all funny now!” Dante glanced you again, but he himself couldn’t refrain from laughing. “Guess I’m the full package, huh?”

“That just makes you hotter, if you wanna know.” You had a matter-of-fact tone, leaning back on the chair and resting your feet on the table. “Nothing like a man who can fight and love like Aragorn as well as cook some damn good potatoes and look after the house like Samwise Gamgee.”

“You know what they say, get yourself a man who can do both. Found ya!”

You could swear Dante’s voice had a tinge of his trigger distortion as the red devil finally found his foe flying around his head. Dante tried a few slaps, but the mosquito was too close for him to be able to kill it. Using the flip flops to fan it away from him, you both lost the mosquito for a while, remaining quiet. Dante used all of his senses to finally see it nearing the couch – with a deadly aim, he one-shot his pray with your flip flop, too fast and lethal for the thing to run away.

The mosquito was no more – its remains were glued on the sole of your flip flop in a stain of blood.

“That was so hot.” You were mesmerized and a little bit jealous of his abilities not only to hunt demons but now, to hunt mosquitos as well. Dante really was the whole package.

“I’m startin’ to question your definition of hot, babe.” Dante let out a good laugh, sitting on the edge of the desk, legs dangling by your side.

“Everything you do, basically.” You shrugged, getting up from the chair to be at least almost his size. Standing between his legs, you wrapped your arms around his neck, ruffling his soft white hair back in order to see his eyes – those eyes you loved so much, so vulnerable and loving towards you. “Thank you so much for saving my desperate human soul, hot stuff.”

“I’m always at your service, pretty eyes.” Dante’s answer was almost a murmur as he leaned to catch your lips with his one more time. “No interruptions this time.”

You laughed between his words and kisses, ready to spend the rest of the night loving him unconditionally.

That is. If you both didn’t hear another approaching MEEP into your ears.

“You gotta be kidding me.” You sighed, throwing your head back.

“Get all the shoes, babe. Those lil’ shits have no idea what they got themselves into.”

Of course, you both had other plans for that night – involving a lot of love, kisses and giggles between you, as time stopped and you could enjoy yourselves, even with that relentless heatwave. The night was spent, though, with you both viciously hunting mosquitoes, keeping scores, making bets between yourselves, drinking beer and eating the leftover cold pizza in the fridge.

It wasn’t what people would consider a perfect evening – but, whenever you were together, things were certainly a lot more entertaining. As you and Dante took refuge in his room, finally getting rid of all the mosquitoes, you lied tiredly in each other’s arms, laughing about your hunt that night, until you fell asleep without a single meep to wake you up.

And that, you would say, was perfect.

Vergil

“I need to enlist your help for a mission, my love.”

Vergil was immediately serious. It was funny how you could watch him change his demeanor – you once told Dante it was like when Marilyn Monroe put on her persona and suddenly people were aware she was there and Dante never allowed his brother to have a single moment of peace upon knowing that.

But it was true. It took some time, but Vergil slowly allowed his shoulders to rest relaxed whenever you were around. His eyebrows weren’t as harsh, his jaw wasn’t tensed all the time. You could see how his forehead remained smooth, how his long hands rested calmly somewhere instead of constantly gripping some invisible weapon. His breath turned slower and smoother, his focus allowing him to plunge completely into his beloved books instead of remaining always with a steady eye on his surroundings.

Whenever you were around, Vergil was safe – of that, he was sure. He had his moments of slipping up, of having his survival instincts make him suddenly tense up and remain vigilant. But you managed to bring a peace to him he never thought he would experience before – and Vergil always allowed himself to slowly, very slowly, relax again.

When you were serious, though, survival-mode Vergil came back to the surface: shoulders tensing, eyes turning into steely blocks of ice, hands closing in fists, gazing you intently while waiting for anything to suddenly appear so he could kill it with just a glare. It was his famous ‘dark aura’ as you called, and not even Dante had that – it was Vergil’s special power and it could make the bravest of demons run away with just a stare.

“What happened?” Vergil’s voice was cold and low, carrying not only all his worry, but his rage.

“The worst creature from Hell has ascended to test us.” You spoke solemnly but there was something quite not right with your tone. Nevertheless, Vergil was even more weary: he was ready to void-cut your way to Nero’s place so you could be safe while he dealt with whatever it was that decided to haunt you. “There’s a huge mosquito in the bedroom. I can’t work properly and, trust me, we will never get a good night of sleep with that thing buzzing around.”

“A… Mosquito…?” Now Vergil slowly crossed his arms, looking down at you. He still had his shoulders tense, jaw locked and stoic look in his eyes, but you knew those would water down after a while – the most important thing was the ‘dark aura’: as soon as he realized you were both safe and there was nothing to worry too much about, it vanished just like Marylin Monroe did whenever she didn’t want to be recognized.

It was impressive, really.

“Yes. And don’t you dare mock me.” You pointed right at him as soon as it seemed Vergil was ready to scold you for being foolish – something that looked quite similar to when he was about to go in a fight. “You can be my guest and try to sleep with the mosquitoes, I’ll sleep on the couch if I need too. But those things will not rob me of my sanity.”

“Hmmm. It’s been a while I don’t see one…” With those words, Vergil followed you to your shared bedroom, having just come out of his shower into that mess. “It makes sense. I believe they come out when the weather is hot, right…?”

“Oh, c’mon. You have to have these little things in Hell. It’s practically a mini-demon spawn with wings and tiny horns imbued in it to drive you crazy.” As soon as you finished your description, Vergil had to close his eyes and do his best to not snort a quick laugh – something he wasn’t really successful at. “You can’t possibly make me believe those weren’t made by the forces of evil to suck blood and endlessly annoy all living beings.”

“We have worst in Hell.” Vergil’s look at you was still strict, but his silver eyes had a tinge of care. He would never admit out loud – and he almost wouldn’t admit even to himself – but the way you talked, the way you eloquently described things to amuse not only him but yourself as well always seemed adorable to Vergil.

You, in the other hand, eyed him with notes of annoyance while resting your hands on your waist. You were the face of the summer that day, having seriously considered being only in your underwear during a few moments, completely out of not being able to tackle the sudden heatwave. Vergil had his dark pajama pants on, his torso covered by a white sleeveless shirt, completely barefoot and his hair slicked back – still wet from the almost cold shower he just took.

Whenever you questioned his heat resistance – afraid that he would die from the heatwave out of not wanting to show too much of his skin ‘like his stupid brother’ all the time – Vergil would just glare you and answer with ‘I’ve had worse”.

You knew he was talking about Hell. In a way, Vergil was quite different than everyone else because of all the things he got used to or desensitized in Hell – heat was only one of them. Vergil could go days without eating, without sleeping, he could endure a lot of pain and dismiss lethal wounds to keep on fighting, and so on… But his sense of taste was also a lot more sensitive, specially regarding sweet foods, as well as his sense of smell – when it came to delightful scents Vergil could notice them a mile away but he could also feel sick from being overwhelmed after a while; with foul scents, though, he had a higher tolerance, getting used to them after only a few seconds. Soft textures and lullabies could also get him by surprise, making him always wonder if there was something hidden behind those.

You could make a list of things that Vergil reacted differently or had been desensitized after his long time in Hell – and the heatwave from that day was certainly one of the items in your list.

“Well… Where is it?”

“It was on the ceiling. I climbed up on the bed trying to reach it, but it’s too far away for me.” You sighed, looking back at him. “I don’t know where it is now. We’ll have to hunt it.”

“You are aware that climbing furniture is very dangerous, right?” Vergil spoke slowly, in the same rhythm his steps casually walked around the bedroom.

“Oh, yes. I hunt demons for a living, but climbing a bed to kill a mosquito is going to be my downfall.” Having your flip flops already on your hands, you couldn’t refrain from answering him with sarcasm.

“Even Achilles had his blind spots.” And as much as you hated it, you had to recognize when Vergil was right. “It will take too long to find it this way. It’s easier if we allow it to come to us.”

“Hmmm… That’s a very good idea, hadn’t thought of that before.” You stopped by his side, both of you observing the room with smart eyes.

“You once mentioned they are attracted to breathing.” Vergil looked back at you, making you nod in return. With that confirmation, he started breathing heavily in order to attract the mosquito.

“Good idea. I’m going to turn off the lights too, they seem to leave wherever they are in search for another light source.”

Vergil just agreed with his head as you turned off the lights and stopped by his side, both of you breathing heavily, trying to lure your prey out of its hiding spot.

In all his life, after all he had done, all he sacrificed and all the souls he destroyed – including his own – Vergil never thought he would be doing something so… Ordinary. Stupid even. There were you, in the dark, breathing weirdly to attract a simple mosquito in order to give you some peace of mind.

He couldn’t stop himself from smiling, even if a little bit. If he could wish for something, he would wish for ordinary days with you for the rest of his life. Dealing with broken showers in the bathroom, fixing a leaking sink in the kitchen, having all the lights go out and depend only on candles, sit by your side reading thousands of recipes trying to understand why a pie backfired in the oven… All painfully mundane things, but so human. So heartwarming to the soul.

It was a kind of peace Vergil knew he did not deserve after all his actions – after all the blood he had shed. But it was something for him to hope for; and human hearts always kept hope inside even if it was an unlikely sort of hope, right?

As you turned on the lights once more, you and Vergil remained with your breathing technique – but none of you could see even a wing of the mosquito. After a few seconds, you had to look at each other.

“We look quite ridiculous, don’t we…?” With your question, not even Vergil could keep serious – both of you started laughing, shaking your heads in unison.

“We can always wait and see if it appears again.”

But as soon as Vergil let those words out of his lips, both of you picked up the characteristic buzzing of a mosquito around the room. Turning your heads immediately, you could see how Vergil had his hunting glare on: carefully scanning his surroundings, the mosquito wouldn’t escape the vicious Dark Slayer.

“Over there!” You threw one of your flip flops towards it, missing for just a little bit.

The shoe was followed by a small, bright blue summoned sword – and that one didn’t miss.

“Wow. Who would’ve guessed, summoned swords have domestic purposes as well.”

“They are very useful for a great number of things.” Vergil shook his head, letting out a breathy small laugh. But then, his hunting eyes were back. “Did you hear that…?”

“What…?” You froze in place, glancing around the bedroom, trying to listen to what he had picked up. Vergil took one of his fingers to his lips, signaling for you to listen carefully right after, making you focus even more.

Those things didn’t happen all the time – but they would be as unexpected as a shooting star crossing the sky. All of a sudden, catching you by surprise, Vergil’s hands rested on your hips, his lips planting a kiss on your forehead.

“Ah!” But of course. Even if Vergil was careful and didn’t do things as suddenly – or as aggressively – as his twin brother when it came to surprises, you did get startled, tripping on your own feet as he kissed you. “Verge!”

“Y/n! Be careful!” Vergil tried to hold you as best as he could. Your hands entangled, one of his arms trying to embrace your waist and pull you back to him. He lost his balance, though, tripping alongside you and trying to stop whatever was happening – as long as you didn’t get hurt, it would be alright for him.

As unexpected as his kiss was, you both ended up falling on the bed – which, at least, was a fluffy fall. Until, that is, a loud crack resonated through the room. Vergil still held you tight in his arms, your fingers intertwined as you felt the bed giving in under your weight.

When all went silent, you and Vergil both exchanged looks, still trying to understand what happened.

It didn’t take too much to remember your bed was a little wobbly – because of Vergil’s recurrent nightmares, you had a couple accidents with the Yamato, chipping at the bed and having to fix it until you had time to buy a sturdier one. With the weight of the both of you falling on it, the bed couldn’t take it anymore and cracked in pieces.

“I blame the mosquito.” You whispered silently, making Vergil immediately bury his head on your neck.

You could hear a muffled laugh – not loud, but comfortable, as he would always be around you. Resting one of your hands on his wet hair, you smiled as you felt his shoulders finally relax, his jaw losing the tension as Vergil kissed your neck.

“We will look for a new bed tomorrow morning.” He sighed, still wondering if all of that was one of Mundus’ illusions before he woke up once more in Hell, having his soul broken even further.

If it was, Vergil closed his eyes and wished for it to last a little longer this time.

“I don’t mind sleeping on the couch for a while.” You ran your fingers through his hair, making Vergil lean his weight on his arms in order to look into your eyes. There was nothing in there that could point to Mundus’ tricks – your eyes were filled with adoration and a slight tinge of melancholy, a mixture particular to you that always made him secretly breathless and completely vulnerable. “As long as you’re around, anything works for me.”

Vergil always found something quite interesting when you were around. All his life, he believed there were words for everything – and all could be expressed through prose, through a painting of words into a masterpiece. Upon meeting you, though, he realized some things had no words in any languages he knew that could express what he wanted to say – the only thing he could do was to kiss you back with all the admiration that stirred inside his chest.

Indeed, sleeping on the couch was far from perfect. But having your head safe and sound on his chest while he played with your hair, with you listening to his heartbeat as you always enjoyed to do…Vergil thought not even Heaven could be more perfect than that – and he asked whatever could listen to allow him to live such an ordinary, human life for as long as he could.

Because as long as you were around, anything worked for him.

Nero

“Hey, Kyrie…? I was thinking maybe we can move those shelves from the bedroom to the…”

If there was a thing Nero used to do quite often, that thing would be already talking without even making sure the other person was listening. Usually while still walking towards them, screaming in the distance, barely paying attention to said person.

He seriously questioned why he and Kyrie decided to clean and solve all the little issues in their house on the hottest day of the year – but then again, it was a sudden heatwave and no one was expecting it. Nevertheless, his white tank top was already drenched in sweat, his pair of jeans definitely too hot for that day and he was doing something he never did in his life: working barefoot.

Having a piece of furniture he was tinkering with in his hands, he approached the living room so he could tell Kyrie his brilliant idea of moving the shelves to the garage – decluttering the bedroom and having more storage where they actually needed. As he looked up, though, Nero most definitely didn’t expect that sight.

Kyrie was wearing the shortest pair of shorts she could find at home – flimsy, delicate, from her pajamas – and a sports bra. That’s it. Her hair was tied in a bun, while she had a spatula on one of her hands, completely barefoot on top of the kitchen counter island. Her skin glistening with sweat, while she viciously looked for something.

Nero didn’t want to blush. He wasn’t going to blush. He pursed his lips and did his best to control all of his feelings – after all, he could control his devil trigger, controlling blushing because of seeing that goddess of a woman right on their kitchen wearing almost nothing and being absolutely gorgeous shouldn’t be harder, right…? Right…?! It shouldn’t. Nero wasn’t…

He was blushing. Like a bell pepper.

“Oh, Nero! I didn’t listen to what you said, I’m sorry…!” Kyrie was a little startled upon seeing him – and she certainly took the blushing as his response to how hot the day was rather than anything else.

“What… Did you know climbing furniture is dangerous?!” After the initial shock, though, Nero’s protective instincts towards his loved ones had to kick in. Approaching the island in a hurry, he had his hands on his waist, but ready to get Kyrie out of there.

“Oh, I do, don’t treat me like a child.” Even though her answer was annoyed, Kyrie dismissed his comment with a sigh and a slight smile: she would never complain about how protective Nero was towards her. She would always appreciate that. “But I’m trying to solve a problem on my own.”

“Well, the only problem I see here is you on top of the counter, beautiful.” Nero rested his hands on the cold stone, slightly considering laying down on it to get rid of the heat. Maybe standing on it wasn’t that bad, but he would never endorse such dangerous behavior on her side. “C’mon. Lemme help you down.”

“Hey! I’m doing some hunting, I won’t climb down now!” Kyrie now had her hands on her waist, finally looking down at Nero and finding his always attentive but loving aquamarine eyes. She could never get angry at those eyes, he definitely was her soft spot. “I’ve been doing this for the past half-hour. It’s ok, Nero.”

“Wait, what? Huntin’? What’s the matter?!” It was like she flipped a switch in Nero. Suddenly, there was the devil hunter, always aware of his surroundings, ready to sucker-punch any clueless demon that appeared in front of him. All of this got amplified with the fact that Kyrie was around and he would be damned if anyone even thought about touching her in his presence.

She had to giggle. It was almost a natural response even. Nero could have all the pose he wanted – he could be the troublesome punk with a dirty mouth and short-tempered behavior all he wanted – but Kyrie could always see the man he was underneath all that. In his aquamarine eyes, Kyrie has ever seen a sweet man, gentle, worried about his friends, loyal and caring, ready to sacrifice everything and anything for his loved ones. The punk attitude could fool everyone else but her.

And Kyrie had to admit, Nero looked as cute as a badass demon hunter could be when she saw everything that was under his short-tempered answers, ready to get into a fight – the love, the care and the immediate instinct to protect at all costs.

He looked up at her, clueless for a few moments. Kyrie would always look like a little angel in Nero’s eyes, with a giggle resembling little silver bells on a golden morning. Her cheeks slightly blushing, her beautiful hair starting to fall over her face, her rose-pink lips so delicate as her warm brown eyes watched him with care.

“It’s nothing like that, silly…” Her voice was always soft, so different than everything else Nero had always heard. Since the beginning, he was always used to being treated harshly or with indifference, but Kyrie was the first one to offer him comfort and love. He always thought falling for her was inevitable, as they were meant to be from the moment their eyes crossed for the first time. “I’m having mosquito problems.”

“Mosquito problems…?” And suddenly, all that wave of adrenaline washed off his body. Nero could be calmer, it wasn’t anything to be horribly worried at. Leaning over the kitchen counter, he smiled up at his little angel. “All that ‘cause of a lil’ mosquito…?”

“Oh, don’t downplay it like that!” Kyrie pretended to be mad, lightly slapping one of his arms with the spatula. As Nero giggled, she started looking around again. “I’ve been on that for the past half-hour. I’ve been trying to catch it but it’s too fast!”

“We can always try some pesticide.” As soon as Nero suggested, Kyrie glanced at him.

“Nero. Last time we tried pesticide, you almost died from the smell. We had to ask Dante to sleep at the shop, remember?” Of course, he didn’t. Nero had probably erased that memory out of his head, but Kyrie would forever be there to remind him: out of the two, he was the most sensitive with strong chemical smells, specially cleaning products and pesticides, given his demonic heritage. Nero would never want to admit it out loud, but it was true.

“Oh… Yeah.” As always, Nero would do his best to change subjects – thanking the heatwave for the first time for serving as a perfect cover for his blushing. “But ya know, killin’ it with a spatula isn’t the best thing in the world. Actually, killin’ it isn’t like you at all.”

“Well, I get rashes every time they bite me. I must be allergic to something.” Kyrie sighed, finally approaching Nero on the counter. He stepped back for a bit and she put the spatula away, sitting in front of him, legs hanging from the counter. “And you were sort of allergic too when we were kids.”

“Ah, yeah, I remember… Got some pretty nasty itches all over my arms.” Nero let out a quick laugh, unconsciously resting his hands on Kyrie’s thighs. She was warmer than usual – not as much as him though – and her skin was soft, slightly damp. As a reflex, he lightly caressed her tights with his thumbs while talking – and Kyrie thanked the heatwave for hiding the real reason she was blushing at that moment. “You’re right, I’ll give ya that. Mosquitoes aren’t allowed in this house.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was a small whisper, Kyrie still trying to control her heartbeat. She wasn’t half-demon like Nero though, and her human heart would always follow her own feelings instead of whatever her mind was trying to control. “Do you think you can help me with it?”

“I can always help you with anything, princess.” His aquamarine eyes sparkled with care as Nero leaned forward to place a very not rushed at all kiss on her angel lips. Kyrie cradled his face with both of her hands, smiling into his lips – Nero always tasted honey-sweet to her, no matter the situation. “Alright, angel, time to deal with your mosquito. Where’s the lil’ bastard?”

“It was flying around the ceiling. I managed to slap it a couple of times but, as you said, spatulas aren’t that efficient.” She let go of him, watching lovingly as Nero got a couple of shoes he had left in the kitchen while cleaning the bedroom floor. “What are you going to do with so many shoes…?”

“Well, I got a trick up my sleeve.” With a wink, Nero’s ice blue trigger claws appeared behind his back like a set of wings, catching one shoe in each of its hands. Kyrie couldn’t stop laughing. “Ya know, demons have their domestic uses, we can be pretty handy at home.”

“That was awful, Nico would love it!” Kyrie couldn’t stop laughing and giggling as Nero climbed on the kitchen counter, armed with two pairs of shoes.

He wasn’t lying: his trigger could be very helpful when doing chores. That was how he always did whatever he needed to do around the house in half of the time: Nero literally had control over another set of hands to help.

As Nero used all his enhanced senses to find the mosquito and start hunting it with four relentless shoes, Kyrie watched him with what one would think it was too much admiration in her eyes for such a trivial thing. Even though it was mundane, it wasn’t trivial to her: nothing was trivial when it came to spending time with someone she loved, especially Nero.

When others would see a half-demon creature, Kyrie would see the human she loved so much. And not only that – they started dating when they were teens, yes, they grew up together and soon that young love matured over time – Kyrie didn’t see her boyfriend, but a man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with and who would be such a great husband and father.

Nero would deny if she ever told him that, of course. But Kyrie could see how he played with the children, how he scolded them in such a fatherly way when needed, how he always seemed to have so much patience even if he hid it under a short-tempered demeanor. Nero would make the best dad jokes, he would build the best pillow forts, he would stay awake into the night to care for his children when they would get sick… Kyrie could make a list of things Nero would certainly do as a father – and would excel at it.

“C’mon… Where did it… A-ha! Found it! No escape now!”

She was brought up from her thoughts as soon as Nero exclaimed those words, all four pieces of shoes ready to attack. The mosquito had nowhere to go: he threw one shoe, calculated the route the mosquito would fly over, and threw the other three in a row – faster than she could even think about it. The mosquito was caught in the second shoe, but, if that hadn’t happened, it would had found certain death in the other shoes.

“Job done, princess! Your nights will be peaceful and mosquito-less again!” Nero’s trigger hands disappeared as he bowed to Kyrie – who just laughed and applauded as he did so.

“Thank you so much, brave knight!” She had to joke around. Nero had this thing of calling her princess ever since they were teens – and he never knew how much her heart jumped inside of her chest every time he did that. To counter it and be able to hide how much she loved him in Fortuna, Kyrie would always call him something like that back as a joke, so the elders would think they were just playing. It sort of became their thing after a while – and she quite enjoyed it. “I think it’s my turn to repay you.”

“Eh, no need…” With a sigh, Nero sat by Kyrie’s side on the counter, legs dangling from it as well. He was a lot taller than her, but not even his feet couldn’t reach the floor from where they were sitting. “I’ll do it a thousand times if I have to.”

Looking at her, Nero allowed a caring smile to fill not only his lips but his eyes as well. While so many people saw only fire and rage, Kyrie had the privilege of seeing love and vulnerability inside that aquamarine sea.

Placing one of her hands on his cheek, Kyrie pulled Nero for a kiss – soft, long and calm. Nero was taken aback for a few seconds before melting into it, placing his hands on her hips and finding her soft skin. It seemed like a bolt of lightning went up their spines as Nero caressed her sides and ran his hand on her silky, slightly damp back.

“Oh, what were you saying about the bedroom before…?” Her question was a whisper as Kyrie parted the kiss – both of them blushing and vaguely breathless.

“Nothin’ that matters. The shelves can wait.” Nero dismissed it quickly, pulling her back to a kiss – both of them laughing between each other’s lips.

The house was a mess as they were cleaning everything: the kitchen and the bedroom seemed like they were torn apart, with clothes and shoes lying everywhere, books finding temporary solace somewhere else, and everything looking like it was turned upside down.

Spending time with each other, though, was a bigger priority. They would order some pizza and sleep on the couch under a light bedsheet so they wouldn’t get caught by surprise in case Nico decided to visit all of a sudden in the morning – but they wouldn’t pass the opportunity of loving each other.

As the night settled, they rested on the couch, Nero cradling Kyrie safely in his arms, as they talked the night away, always blushing from being so intimate with each other – that would never change, no matter how many years had gone by.

While watching Kyrie giggling from one of his stupid jokes, looking like an angel resting her head on his chest, Nero blushed even more while laughing alongside her and playing with her hair. He would always be a fool for her.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to get a glass of cold water for you?” Kyrie whispered into the night, the humming of the fan they found in the back of the garage making the weather a little bit more bearable. “You look like a tomato, dear.”

“Oh, it’s ok. It’s chillier now, my temperature will go down soon.” Nero smiled back at her, wondering how Kyrie could be so radiant. No supernatural creature could top that. “No need to worry, angel. Thank you.”

Obviously, he would never say he was blushing because of her - having only one thing in his mind… Thank whatever forces that be for that heatwave.

[silence-burns]

No Place Like Here (Except For a Few Taverns) //part 8 (epilogue)

Fandom: The Witcher

Summary: Life on the road is never easy for a lone witcher, but it would get significantly easier if he didn’t have two idiots following his every step. 

One might think that killing a harpy was as bad as it could get, but the unspoken truth was actually that selling its head was way more difficult. 

Jaskier strummed his lute from the height of his horse to both yours and the horse's dismay. You had to wait for Geralt while he dealt with the business of getting his promised money, and as time passed in front of the withering house at the end of the muddy road, the boredom, along with the sun, rose.

You were sitting on the fence, fanning Jaskier's hat in hopes of chilling the air at least a little bit. Roach feasted on the grass on the other side of the fence. You hadn’t noticed when she got there. She refused to share any answers. 

"Do you think we'll get enough money at least for a beer?" you asked the artist and his suffering horse. The horse only snorted, pulling its ears back and considering throwing its rider to the ground. The artist shrugged. 

"They've been at it for at least half an hour by now. Either they're still arguing, which gives hope for at least a few coins, or Geralt's in the middle of skinning them alive, which results in more coins." 

"Maybe we could get another job," you mused, looking around. 

The sun had already parched wide spots of grass, painting it unhealthy shades of dried yellow. The few trees sticking out in between the houses didn't look much better. A few of them used to bear fruit, but the drought and hunger among the people took them all already. If the rains didn't come soon, the crops wouldn't suffice to feed the villagers. 

The fields on the other side of the fence were a sad thing to look at. Roach was skimming on the bordering patch of thin grass, but the rest didn't look any more promising. Whatever problems the village might have, they were all focused on the prospect of famine. Not many would care to spare any coin to a witcher. 

"Maybe you could play at a wedding? Or a funeral, if need be." 

"Do you see anyone interested in that?" Jaskier gestured to the empty village. "Because I can't see a living soul here. Everyone's roaming the forest and hoping to stack enough food to survive another day. They won't have anything to pay with, even food." 

You winced. That was true. "Looks like we'll have to hit the road again. There's another village, two days down the road…" 

The melody coming from under Jaskier's fingers ended abruptly. You frowned, not expecting him to have any objections, but in the next moment you noticed the reason behind his growing smile. 

Further down the road, coming from the direction you followed earlier, came the merry chatter of voices accompanied by instruments of varied sort. 

You groaned when the colorful crew strodded through the village, their voices booming over the empty houses.

"I know them!" Jaskier squealed and turned his horse towards the newcomers. 

Geralt walked out of the building the moment the bard was enveloped in a hug and drowned in questions.

"More bards?" Geralt groaned and walked to the fence next to you.

"Looks like it. Unless they kill monsters with those flutes."

"Last thing we need is more bards."

"And the first thing we need is some coins. How do we stand on that?"

Geralt pulled an uneasy face. You noticed his knuckles were suspiciously red.

"I'm afraid we have more bards than coins. The bastards here were not completely honest about the funds in their possession." 

Your growling stomach deemed it unfortunate. 

"Maybe we'll have more luck in the city. When do we move on?" 

Geralt eyed the bards booming with laughter, Jaskier's face flushed and more alive than it'd been in weeks. 

As if Jaskier could sense the witcher's eyes on him, he rode back, fidgeting in his saddle. "Geralt, please, can we ride with Crokus for a while? I haven't seen him in ages and we're going in the same direction anyway, so…" 

"Wait, you've got friends? Like, actual friends?" you stopped him. 

"Of course I do!" 

"He does," said the blonde man coming closer. "Although it surprises me too sometimes. My name is Crokus, nice to meet you both. I've heard tales of your adventures, I wish I had such a company with me." 

Geralt eyed the outstretched hand as if it was a viper. He didn't move, but the muscles under the tight leather seemed to tense. 

You slipped in closer on the fence, flashing your brightest smile. "And I've heard a lot about the food and drinks that never leaves a troupe of bards."

"Oh, we have something special reserved for the evening, once we make camp. You should join us!" 

"We'd be delighted." 

The road welcomed you, dust rising beneath the horse's hooves. Following the musicians at a distance sufficient to retain one's sanity, Geralt couldn't stop from glaring at you from the height of the Roach. 

"What?" you snapped at last, as the sky darkened and mosquitos began their hunt. "I was hungry. Still am." 

"We still have some cheese left." 

"You mean the one I couldn't crunch even with my shoe? Thanks, Geralt, but I think I'll try whatever they have." 

"You know there won't be much sleep tonight, though? They are only getting started." 

The bards didn't break off their singing even in the saddles, their merry crew's voices sang clear, and their melodies changed every few notes—showing off to one another. You shrugged. 

"Probably, but it's not like we're joining them for good. Unless you want to change your sword for a lute, which, by the way, I'd pay to see. But other than that, we'll part ways tomorrow anyway, so let Jaskier have his fun for now. He had a difficult past few days," you said. then laughed, remembering the circumstances that led to losing both of Jaskier's shoes. 

"He is having fun," Geralt nodded. "What if he chooses to stay with them?" 

"Well," you said, toying with the reins. "Last time I checked, he was a big boy, usually capable of making his own decisions. Besides, we often part ways and then stumble into each other again. Such is life." 

"Hmm," Geralt said. Roach agreed with a soft neigh. 

Their moods didn't change when the camp settled and the sky was overrun by the stars. Geralt stayed gloomy even when the fire rose high and cast flickering shadows over the figures dancing around it to the fast music sinking into your weary bones. You couldn't stop your foot from twitching slightly to the music and songs as you laid wrapped into a blanket, your cheek pressed into Geralt's arm. 

You watched through heavy lids as Jaskier danced on the grass, his feet bare, and his smile unfaltering as he let the celebrations consume him whole. Crokus was always a step next to him, and his companions swirled around them, never losing their footing. Despite the hour growing late, no signs of stopping could be seen.

You felt Geralt yawn soundlessly. His hand stroked your back and arm and occasionally swiped at the bloodthirsty mosquitoes. 

"He's happy," you whispered into the dark leather. 

"He is." 

There was something in that voice that left room for more words, but they didn't make it to you in time. Somehow, before you noticed, the other voices lulled you to sleep, leading you through colorful swirls of half-made concepts. 

The morning rose a few hours later. Jaskier didn't, engulfed in whatever dreams he had on Geralt's lap, clutching the black leathers. There was a serene expression on his face, undisturbed by the rays of sunshine. 

Crokus and his merry band were in better shape. They had already gathered around the remnants of the fire and prepared breakfast. 

You turned your head to see Geralt already awake. He watched the troupe with a neutral expression, but his hand was on Jaskier's back. 

The road through the forest took you most of the next day and ended way quicker than you thought. It opened onto a city circled with a stone wall, very effective for whatever usually crawled out of the forest at night. Geralt grew even more silent as you cleared the city gates, the bards exchanging warm welcomes with the guards. 

The gates were followed by a rather large area, usually used by the vendors to showcase their goods of various sorts and dubious origins, but they were already packed for the night, leaving enough space to stop the horses. The inevitable came. 

"The journey was most pleasant thanks to your company, friends," Crokus smiled. 

"The pleasure is ours," you said. Geralt was a mute figure somewhere to your right. 

"Take care of yourself," you addressed Jaskier, currently exchanging some notes with one of the other bards. 

He frowned. "Why? Aren't you going to do this anymore?" 

"I thought you'd stay with..." 

The bards laughed, their beautiful voices falling into a melodious chorus. "That wouldn't be wise." 

"Some friendships are best honed from a distance," Crokus explained, turning his horse to the left. 

Jaskier nodded as if it was an obvious truth to every bard. He watched the band disappear into the street, the hooves of their horses echoing off the buildings. 

"So… You aren't really friends," you said. 

"Of course we are!" Jaskier exclaimed with dramatic outrage, but its effect was lost as he clutched the notes to his chest like a mother and her newborn child. "Some bonds are just too great to—" 

"I think that your ego just wouldn't survive that company for long," you laughed. The expression on his face was answer enough.

"Let's go, the night is near," was the first thing Geralt said in a while. He turned Roach in the right direction. You might not have been able to see his face, but the invisible weight seemed to be lifted from his shoulders. 

"I know a perfectly good tavern, right around that corner." Jaskier rode up, continuing to babble about the notes he received from his friend. 

The sun bathed everything in warm reds and yellows, making the picture of the bard and witcher in front of you resemble a painting. You smiled and gently kicked your horse to follow them.

*

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter :D Something might come to an end, but don’t worry, the merry group will be back soon with another adventure, in a separate mini-series! (it’ll be called “Don’t Trust The Chicken”)

[horrorstoryfanfics]

Summer To Remember: Part Two

Xavier is so sweet and I feel like he just cares a lot about the people around him. Like especially when he was defending Brooke at the campfire. I feel like he would instantly feel the need to care for you too. 

Okay I’m sorry he makes me soft. 

Warnings: Drug use, swearing, mentions of death, the normal AHS warnings. 

Part One 

We started at the lake, stopping right in front of the docks. Mom droning on about the rules and what we had, stopping lastly on how drowning was the main cause of death. I was completely uninterested until a certain voice chimed in.

"What's second?" He challenged, eyeing my mother.

She didn't say anything as she scolded him with her eyes.

"People." I teased back with a smirk. His lips twisted up as he raised his eyebrows to me, looking back at his friends.

I didn't see the way Mom scoffed as she walked away, but it was only a matter of time until she realized I had the hots for the new counselor.

We all made our way down the path and over to the Dining Hall. Bertie was unloading food and supplies out of the back of a truck.

"And this is Chef Bertie, a Camp Redwood veteran." Mom said proudly.

Bertie smiled as she took the cigarette from her lips.

Xavier casually leaned against the truck. "Dibs," he joked motioning to her and looking over at Ray as he laughed.

Bertie looked over at him laughing slightly, "You wouldn't know what to do with it if you got it, handsome."

Ray, Chet and I started laughing as Xavier was completely taken aback. The shock written on his chiseled features.

"Put those scrawny arms to work and help the lady fill her pantry." She shoved a box into his arms. He took it without a word. "All of you, grab a crate." She rested on the back of the truck and finished her cigarette as we all went to work helping unload the back of the truck.

Ray was still laughing to himself, Xavier bumped him with his crate. "It's not that funny." He sneered.

"Actually it was," I interjected, walking past both of the boys and putting the crate down, bending flirtatiously. "It's what you get for calling dibs on the wrong girl." I winked and brushed my hands off while I walked back out to grab another.

Both boys almost dropped their crates along with their jaws. Xavier's mind was racing but he wasn't quick enough to come up with something else to say.

"Chef Bertie worked here when I was a counselor," My mother said as she stood and supervised us, of course not lifting a finger. "We are so blessed to have her with us."

"I have many good memories of this place," Bertie chimed in, "It's magic up here in the fresh air." She took another hit, "I'm sorry that one bad apple ruined it for everyone."

Everyone stopped and gathered around once again. They clearly tensed up at the slight mention of what happened here.

"The minute I heard Margaret was reopening this place, I was first to volunteer." She raised her hand lightly, then looked over at me, "Well second."

I rolled my eyes, "Hey I had too, what kind of daughter would I be if I didn't." I shrugged.

"A pretty shitty one," Xavier joked behind me, "But lucky me you aren't."

I turned around quickly almost nose to nose with him, smiling. "You aren't lucky yet." I gently pushed his sunglasses back up his nose with my finger.

"Okay!" My Mom clapped, "Let's continue our tour."

I smiled at him once again before following her over to the showers.

"Girls shower in the a.m.,boys in the p.m. Same goes for counselors too." She didn't look back as she walked through and waited for us outside.

Xavier turned over to me feigning a fake look of disappointment,"Guess I won't be able to help you rinse and repeat babe."

"I didn't take you for someone who follows rules, what a pitty." I pouted teasingly as I crossed my arms.  

He pushed his tongue in his cheek before he laughed lightly, shaking his head.

Everyone was clearly disappointed as they looked through the barren wooden outdoor room. There was no ceiling and not even any stalls. We walked through quickly and eventually made it back to the girls cabin and then the boys.

"Girls are red, boys are blue. Don't even try to make purple." She stated as we made our way back out.

I rolled my eyes, feeling another sexual spiel coming on.

"You expect us to be celibate all summer?" Chet asked, not really believing that she was serious.

"Well I'm not banning self-abuse. Although every stroke soils your soul." She said in disgust. "But how could I ever enforce it?" She threw her hands up in defeat.

"It's 1984, Margaret. They're building coed showers in the West Hollywood gym. You ever hear of the sexual revolution?" He looked over to me momentarily, "Sex won." He said matter of factly as him and Ray fist bumped.

"I am aware of the decadence of our era. Women's underwear that shows the buttocks."

"Here we go." I mumbled, crossing my arms and throwing my head back against the cabin door.

"Pornography in your own home," She continued on, "Van Halen."

Montana furrowed her brows and looked over to me, I just gave her a "Ignore her" look.

"I have been fighting the Lord's fight against filth around the world for years. Charles Keating is a dear friend. I was right by his side in Cincinnati during that Larry Flynt trial. And that is why, while still grieving my sweet husband Walter's untimely death, I took a small portion of the large fortune he left to me to buy this camp."

I tensed up at the mention of dad. While it had been years since his death it wasn't something I talked about openly. I shifted my weight and squeezed my arms tightly. It was also something that Mom and I never really talked about together

"I wanted to create a safe, pure, godly and decent place for the children of this country to escape for the summer. It is a dream come true. Now, there aren't many rules but I expect each and every one of you to follow them without exception." Once she finished her monologue she stormed away.

I rolled my eyes yet again, "Don't listen to her." I said. They all looked overwhelmed with how passionate and forceful her attitude was. Unfortunately it's something I've just endured and gotten used to.

"Who's Charles Keating?" Chet asked abruptly.

"He was against porn." I patted his shoulder as I walked away, heading back into the main part of the camp.

The sun was starting to set as the hue of the camp changed to a darker one. The eeiry scene growing once again onto the grounds.

Once everyone brought their bags and things to their respected cabin it was unanimous that we should build a fire. Brooke being overly excited to roast marshmallows and everyone else just excited to get the aesthetic of summer camp started.

There was a fire pit already with logs circled around it, creating a nice seating area. Chet grabbed the wood and threw it in while Ray lit it up. I sat down on a log by myself.

Brooke dug into the marshmallows as soon as Rita brought them over, stabbing them on the end of her stick and happily waiting for it to roast.

I felt the weight of the log shift as someone sat down beside me. I looked over with the corner of my eye to find Xavier giving me his infamous smirk, clearly teasing me again as he scooted closer, our thighs touching gently.

Chet lit up a blunt as Rita swatted at the mosquitoes and bugs that decided to swarm around us now. He passed it over to Ray who took a hit, and then Ray over to Rita.

"I don't smoke that funny weed," She said as she declined his offer, "The only thing I put in my lungs is a Marlboro Red," She smirked as she lit up a cigarette and huffed at it lightly.

"You know that shit will kill ya," Xavier stated.

"We all gotta die somehow," Rita stated quickly. "Any of you ever been camp councilors before?"

We all shook our heads, some stated their no's audibly.

"We just had to get out of LA." Ray said.

"I hear that, I couldn't be in that city another minute with all those gruesome murders going on." Rita stated.

The blunt made it over to me, I took a hit and turned to Xavier. He seemed impressed with the fact I did it.

"Do you want it or not?" I shook it lightly as he just stared at me, the fire crackling in the distance and Brooke talking about how she was attacked by the Night Stalker.

He took it from me quickly, our hands momentarily touching. "Just didn't know that Mommy's good little Christian girl was such a rebel." Half of his face was illuminated by the fire as he smirked down at me.

"Yeah?" I leaned in closely, "There's a lot you don't know about me." I whispered as my eyes trailed down his face, stopping on his lips. I leaned back and directed my attention back to the conversation. Not noticing the hunger in his eyes as our game of cat and mouse got a little more interesting.

"24 years ago. That's when they closed this place down." Rita was about to start telling the story of the massacre.

"Rita," Xavier groaned, "I understand the tradition, and usually I'm cool with that, but our friend Brooke here had a for-real assault, and we're just not in the mood for a bullshit ghost story." He passed the blunt over to Montana.

I looked over to Brooke who was no longer roasting marshmallows, who looked absolutely scared to death.

"It's not bullshit. And there was no ghost," Rita went on, "I'll be honest with you. I've never been a nurse at a camp before and you've never been councilors. So how did we get these jobs?" We all paused listening to her, "That's because anybody that knows what happened here, doesn't want to be here. This is the site of the worst Camp massacre of all time."

I looked down as I remembered the story my Mom told me, about how she barely survived and the reason she doesn't have her ear. Xavier felt me stiffen as he scooted closer, letting me know he was here. "Come on Rita.." His voice grew in annoyance at the fact she kept going.

"His name was Benjamin Richter but most call him Mr.Jingles." She stood up for dramatic effect, "Richter was drafted into the Vietnam War and he found his calling. He had the highest kill rate in his company. He had a nasty habit of collecting trophies from his enemies. Cutting off their ears and cutting them into a necklace."

"Jesus Christ Rita," I snapped, "If my Mom hears you talking about this she's going to lose her shit." My fist clenched remembering how hurt she was whenever she would be reminded of that horrible night. Xavier looked at me with concern, putting his hand over mine in an attempt to calm me down. I just looked over at him, not really wanting Rita to continue in the fear it would set Mom off.

Rita just shrugged as she continued on, "The only job he could get was here, nobody knows why he snapped...but one night he took a knife and slaughters an entire cabin. Ten victims in all."

"You're wrong," a voice chimed in. We all looked over and saw my Mom approaching the fire slowly everyone grew still at her appearance and Xavier's hand left mine. "Alcohol is not allowed," she took the flask from Ray's hand and poured it onto the dirt, "Neither are those funny smelling cigarettes." She looked over to Chet who had it dangling limply in his fingertips.

"So nothing happened here?" Xavier asked, confused.

"No, there was a massacre here. But only nine died not ten." She walked just in front of the fire, where everyone could see her.

"So Mr.Jingles is real?!" Brooke asked, her voice rose with fear.

Mom didn't say anything as she turned her head to the side and moved her hair, revealing the spot where her left ear should be, but isn't. Brooke gasped while looking away, seeming like she was going to hurl.

Xavier's brows were furrowed as he looked from my mom to me, trying to make sure I was okay. I didn't say anything as she continued on with the story I'd heard only once before. She sat on an empty log as she began to go into detail of the events she went through.

"And I thought that will be the end of it," She recalls the trial, "But I can't escape him. And that's why I bought this camp. To reopen it and take all of my darkest memories and make them into something bright."

"Duddee..." Chet shakes his head, "That's heavy."

Xavier's hand graced over mine again as his eyes scanned my face. He wasn't ready for all of this heavy backstory, he didn't even know that any of this happened. Let alone that it followed you your whole life.

Mom dusted off her shorts as she stood, "Alright well, we have a lot to do with the kids coming in two days. And this is the last time I want anyone talking about that horrible night." She walked away into the night as everyone sat still, horrified.

Everyone eventually got up, except for Xavier and I who just sat there a bit longer.

"Are you okay?" He asked, genuine concern gracing his features.

It made my heart tinge how caring he appeared to be. I just gave him a reassuring smile as I nodded my head, "Yeah, I'm good."

He smiled back lightly and stood up, reaching his hand out to me. "Then let's go inside before we catch our death."

I took his hand as I got to my feet, hesitating to let go once I got up. Eventually I did and we headed back up to the girls cabin.

Next Part

Tags: @felicityofbakerstreet

[oatmilkcoffee8]

Geraskier Fic

Jaskier had been fighting mid-air for long enough before Geralt intervened. Geralt recognised a nightmare when he saw it and the stench of fear surrounded Jaskier like mosquitos above a stagnant pond. Geralt knew he had to calm Jaskier down if he wanted to sleep, his senses were giving him alarm bells with the racket Jaskier was making. There was only really one sensible thing to do, even if Geralt was a little embarrassed by the notion.

 Geralt slipped from his own bed and into Jaskier’s. Closer up, he could see the sweat beading on Jaskier’s forehead, glinting in the moonlight. He lifted Jaskier with ease, placing the man’s back on his chest. Skin to skin contact calmed humans and this gave the most contact with the least questions, just in case Jaskier woke up before his usual noon.

Jaskier settled almost instantly, fear dissipating and body going supple over Geralt’s. Finally, Geralt could get back to sleep without the young man’s interruptions.

 The next morning, Geralt shimmied out of bed without alerting Jaskier, there was no reason to bother him this early. It would only make him grumpy and in a bad mood for the next couple hours. Instead Geralt clothed himself and went down to breakfast, the cockerel crying in the background and a sleepiness floating through the tavern below the inn.

Eventually Jaskier came down to join him, lute in hand and jacket slightly askew from his hurried dressing. From this angle, Geralt could almost understand how so many found him endearing. It wasn’t often that you saw a star this close up. That illusion fell the moment Jaskier opened his mouth and returned only once he slept or was quite far away. Don’t get him wrong though, Geralt admired Jaskier in his own subtle way but once you spend such a long period of time with someone it becomes easy to get frustrated with them.

Jaskier sat down and smiled at Geralt, he looked better rested than he usually did. This was most likely on account of the fact that he hadn’t had to suffer through his usual nightmares after Geralt stepped in. Neither of the mentioned it however, Jaskier most likely hadn’t even noticed and Geralt didn’t want to bring it up if he didn’t have to.

Geralt began getting into bed with Jaskier most nights, and eventually every night. He reasoned with himself that it was simply because when Jaskier slept better he was easier to deal with. But he knew too well his actual reasoning even if he couldn’t admit to himself. Sleeping beneath Jaskier became second nature, the comforting presence of another body benefitted both parties, even if one of them was in the dark about the matter. Geralt had decided early on that what Jaskier didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him and he got the same benefits even in the dark.

But secrecy isn’t made to last. And the tongue bound to keeping this one made its slip by no fault of its own. Geralt had only himself to pin this on in fact. Well, his instincts were technically to blame but Geralt never had been one of technicalities.

The slip occurred on a winter’s night in an unfamiliar inn with naught but woodlands for miles around. This already had Geralt on edge. His senses heightened and he was hyper aware of everything around him. Jaskier had noticed, they’d spent enough time together for Geralt’s alertness to concern him.

“What is it?” Jaskier had questioned him after a snapped twig had Geralt acting like he was awaiting assassins. “New town,” Geralt had answered. That was all the conversation he had in him.

Once a room was secured in the inn and the men had settled for the night in separate beds, Jaskier’s nightmare began. In line with usual routine, Geralt hauled the other man onto his chest and awaited his settlement. Geralt was crossing out of consciousness when a door slammed down the hall. In seconds Geralt was in the middle of heading for his sword and dressing himself when he heard rustling and a grunt.

“Fuck.”

Now Geralt hadn’t necessarily meant to keep his and Jaskier’s sleeping arrangement secret but when there’s no pushback there is no reason for conversation. But now secrecy had been forced into the limelight and he found himself at a loss for words. Jaskier, however, seemed to be running his mouth.

“What’s going on? Why am I on the floor? Why do you have…”

“Shut up, bard.”

“You’re the one giving me more questions!” Jaskier hissed into the darkness of the room.

Geralt never had been one for explaining himself. But now he had little choice.

Reluctantly, Geralt explain the first night to Jaskier, how he seemed much happier and well rested, how it had simply become routine to keep him from seeming so damn frightened every night. He even let slip that it saddened him to see the bard so fearful.

And Jaskier took it in, with a lack of interruption, quite uncharacteristically.

“You could have let me know, Witcher. You’re allowed to care and still be the big, bad wolf.” “I know that.” “Do you?” Jaskier asked. His eyes were sincere and curious, not challenging. Geralt sighed.

Geralt turned to get up, the conversation had finished, and walk towards his own bed. He realised the bard probably wanted to go back to sleep. Alone, this time.

But Geralt felt a tugging on his hand that turned him around to face the bard. The bard’s eyes were clouded by sleep but not enough to hide his question. Geralt nodded, after so long without nightmares Jaskier wasn’t exactly going to give that up just because he had to be in bed with Geralt to get rid of them. The bard had dreamed of them sleeping with each other for a long while, even if there were different intentions on the Witcher’s end, his touch meant a lot.

Geralt laid down first, he expected Jaskier to either settle next to him or back to chest. The bard had a different idea.

Jaskier clambered onto Geralt. He positioned them chest to chest an buried his head into the side of his neck. Despite his muscular form, Geralt was incredibly comfortable. Soft and welcoming like the countess’s goose feather mattress. He made a little ‘oof’ as Jaskier put his full weight on him.

“Good night, Geralt.” “Good night, bard.”

The new nightly routine became quite simple. Arrive at quarters, bathe, argue briefly in the tub (force of habit rather than actual arguments, almost childish bickering), get into bed and sleep. Jaskier started waking earlier too, often with Geralt due to sleeping arrangements.

 ***

 “You are going to get yourself killed if you continue like this, Geralt.”

“I’m fine, bard.” “No! You act like you’re fine, but you aren’t. if you keep pushing yourself like a fool you won’t reach the next town!” “You are incredibly dramatic, even for a bard, Jaskier,” Geralt growled as Jaskier rubbed a salve onto a smattering of new wounds. Surprise wound itself around his brain when he realised the bard had stopped rubbing. Geralt raised his eyes slightly to the bard knelt before him in the tub, “What?” “You only use my name when we argue,” Jaskier pouted. Geralt huffed. Jaskier was in one of those moods again. “And?”

The bard turned sour and his emotions got the best of him, he began yelling. “I’m sick of being treated like you have no ties to me,” Jaskier screeched, he now had Geralt’s full attention, “I basically grew up on the back of your damn horse and you have the audacity to treat me like a stranger! We sleep in the same goddamn bed every night because you don’t want me to have nightmares but you’re more comfortable being seen as with that whore of a sorceress- “ “Don’t talk about her like that.” “You’ve just proved my damn point! Where are you when I’m being called a whore?! I’ve worked harder to help you than she ever has and you repay me with cold stares and distain.”

Geralt wanted to be mad but he knew he couldn’t be. Jaskier was right, well that and the way the bard’s eyes flamed in the lamp light in a way that suppled his body like clay by a river bed. With Jaskier’s lean form and defiant stare the way it was, Geralt couldn’t be angered beyond trivial matters. His eye’s trailed to the bard’s lips. “I’m going to bed,” Jaskier stated, water trickled down into the tub.

Now or never.

Geralt grabbed Jaskier by the torso. Jaskier’s eyes turned from defiant to alarmed in a matter of seconds until recognition of the current movement bloomed in his eyes and his eyelids fluttered closed. The kiss was quick, the steam off the water’s surface increasing the temperature between them tenfold. The men met at the forehead.

“I’m still angry with you,” Jaskier grumbled. “Put it into something else then, Jaskier,” the Witcher challenged.

[peeves-a-legend]

Maximum Entropy

Original Fem!Elementalist x Wizarding World 

A.N. ~ Sooo... I made a new account finally!! And I wanted to restart my page with this piece that I had started a while ago. I hadn’t gotten around to finishing it, but I couldn’t let this idea slip through my fingers with the potential that it has (at least in theory lol). As of right now, the main love interest is undecided; I’m just going to let that unfold as a write. 

Summary ~ Beatrice Drayton is a fourth year at Arctosov Academy for Elementalists when a stranger comes searching for an alliance. Despite centuries of turmoil between hands and wands, she finds herself across the world, willing to work with the folk that bare wands. Harry isn’t the only one with a prophecy, and it just so happens that Drayton’s destiny relies on the success of Potter’s. End of HP book 4 and onward.

Warning ~ Language and probable violence (eventually)

Word Count ~ 4k

Chapter One

There are only a few days left of this term. Only a handful of classes left to study and then I’m free of academic duties for the summer. The bitter Canadian frost had finally submitted to the heat that the lengthened days brought, allowing the vast Boreal to bloom lush with green. Up until now, the school grounds remained in a turbulent state of snow, slush, and mud. Spring was honestly my least favourite time of the year. Maybe if the school was farther South I’d appreciate the season for what it’s worth, but sleet storms and the rapid amplification of mosquito swarms were all too common in the Northwest Territories prior to the sun and shine of the summer months.

I ran through the sun-lit halls of Arctosov Academy in a desperate attempt to get to class on time. It’s moments like this where I’m grateful for the sleek material of the uniform that hugs tight to my limbs and torso. When I was given the purple and black spandex in first year I complained about the tight-fit jumpsuit till I was blue in the face. It’s so itchy. I’ll freeze come wintertime in this cloth. It’s too tight. Blah, blah, blah. Little did I know that I would eventually praise the aerodynamic nature of it when gliding through the crowded corridors.

 The halls of the school were simple, straight passageways that stacked 13 floors high, etched into the side of one of the many mountains that framed the expansive waters of Great Bear Lake. The walls that continued with the face of the mountain were made of tall, clear diamond windows. The bottom of the diamond glass meets a white marble floor while the top of the smooth surface contrasts sharply against the jagged ceiling made of mountain rock. The wall opposite to the lake view was different on all 13 floors. For example, the 9th floor hall (the one that I am currently sprinting down) has a wall made of solid gold. It looks quite gaudy if you ask me. I much prefer the wall made of pure orange flames on the 4th floor. Along each of the distinctive corridors are doors that lead to different rooms that lay in the belly of the mountain. Classrooms, dorms, restrooms, the gym, the dining hall, the kitchen, the library, multiple training rooms, and so on. The only routes that connect each parallel floor to each other are the stairwells that resided at either end of the halls.

 As I dodge through bodies, I can’t help but curse my luck. Not even a time-turner could spare me a few moments of peace between classes that I have back to back and over each other. My brothers and my friends tell me I’m just being dramatic, but it’s not like they would actually know the stress of going through the amount of training that I’m subjected to. To think that I’m only in fourth year!

 I reach the last door on the opposite side of the hall that I entered from and swiftly glide through the misty veil that floats where a door would be placed anywhere else in the world. Arctosov is all about the dramatics when it comes to decor. As soon as the frothy air clears I’m met head on with a group of fifteen or so third, fourth, and fifth year students standing in a large circle. My brother Zaidyn notices me first, taking a step over to make room for me in the ring. I mouth a silent thanks and he offers a small smile in return.

 Our attention is quickly turned to the tall and slender man that paces in the center of the group. At least he had stopped publicly addressing my tardiness every time I showed up to his class a little more than five minutes late.

 ‘…We will be spending a great deal of time in today’s lesson harnessing the energy in the room in combination with the particles that occupy this space,’ thin lips stated as narrowed eyes observed the group of students. ‘We will be conjuring vortex winds; a tornado if you will. But the key is to keep it controlled and clean. If I witness any funnels produced above the hip,’ Professor Turcoff said, addressing a poor third year directly now, ‘consider your Friday evening booked with a detention.’

 ‘Well he seems to be in a stellar mood today, don’t you think?’ Zaidyn huffed quietly enough so that only I could hear.

 ‘Absolutely.’

 ‘Want to work together?’ 

I nodded in response as the circle separated off into smaller groups setting to work. We found a less crowded area off towards the edge of the large circular room. All the training rooms are circular in shape with high steel walls, a steel floor, and a steel ceiling. It’s like being trapped in a tin can and we’re the beans. Cool beans, might I add.

 ‘Now I want you all to focus,’ Turcoff said firmly over the mild chattering that circulated in the room. ‘I don’t just want you to start pushing the molecules around in your vicinity. I want you to feel them. Connect with them. Turn the gases into a fifth limb. Then, and only then, will you have total control.’

 With that, I closed my eyes and opened my palms at my side. This was always my favorite part of conjuring magic. To just feel the vibrations of the atoms that are at my mercy for manipulation. The fluid motion of the air as it swirls around each finger, catching ever so slightly on the craters of my fingerprints. The fuzzy, almost ticklish sensation when my skin radiates deep crimson and ripe orange flames. When I suck the moisture from the air that is plentiful, turning the vapours into a blanket of water that obeys at my command. The deep and gyrating rumble that surfaces from all four sides of the room that I’m standing in, mountain rock waiting to collapse if I let it.

 But the others wouldn’t understand, you see. For the individuals that attend this very class with me cannot feel the lick of a flame. They cannot consume the hydrogen and oxygen in the atmosphere that is necessary for the flickering lattice of its corresponding liquid. They cannot part the earth at its surprisingly brittle seams, only to allow greenery of sorts to erupt from deep within those cervices. They can only control the air that streams gently over the purple fabric of our jumpsuits. Of course, there are other things that all benders are capable of, but the limit of those abilities is always an arm’s reach away.

 All because of one silly chromosome.

 Now’s a great time to mention that I’m the only girl in a school full of boys. Why? Because I’m the first female bender that had been born in over 4000 years. The third one ever, to be exact. For whatever rhyme or reason it is extremely rare for a female bender to be conceived, to the point where it is literally unheard of. At least until my existence, that is. 

All male benders pass down their elemental ability to the children they procreate. If a son is born, he will take after his father’s magic. So will his sons, and his sons’ sons. But if a daughter is born… it’s a slightly different story. 

Female benders harness power differently than their male counterparts. They are able to tap into magical stores that allow access to all areas of elemental manipulation, rather than a single vault. We assume it has to do with the fact that the first bender was a woman herself. Born from the earth and nurtured by the universe, or however that story goes. 

But why are female benders so scarce? Nobody really knows. I personally think it’s a method to mediate power. I could not even begin to imagine a world filled with all-powerful women with a temperament like mine. The globe would combust in a matter of seconds. Nuclear, man.

 I open my eyes and witness a knee-height funnel of air directly in front of me, swirling gently in a clockwise coil. With a slight curl of my fingers, the twister begins to steadily grow till it’s at the height of my belly button.

 ‘That’s tall enough, Ms. Drayton.’ But I wasn’t going to feed it any more than I already had. I am in control. The particles will not control me. I look to my brother who has also mastered the task at hand, posture poised with a satisfied smirk playing at his lips. The rest of the room seemed quite confident as well, mind a few individuals who had let the wind get away on them.

 The rest of class seemed to be swept away and before long I’m reaching into the skin-hugging collar of my jumpsuit to retrieve the time-turner from around my neck. Four down, only eight more classes to go till dinner. Kill me now.

 When I started school in first year, I was beyond excited to learn how to let my powers flourish. But if somebody would have told me that I would be taking four times the amount of school work as every other student at Arctosov, I think it’s fair to say that my enthusiasm wouldn’t have peaked so high. It is partially my fault though. I had been advised to extend my school years to double the standard duration. Unfortunately, fourteen years fell onto deaf ears. 

Finding shortcuts is my specialty. 

At least some classes are mandatory for all students, like elemental and magical history, calculus, magical and muggle variations of physics and chemistry, and other basic level classes that focus on universal bender abilities. I guess that knocks a couple extra classes off my horrendously long list of academic requirements. Unfortunately, that still leaves quite a hefty load of ability-specific classes on my plate.

 ~

 The day couldn’t have gone any slower. I mean, it was all fine and dandy until some imbecile pissed off Professor Yawny in Flora Manipulation. The idiot conjured a garden of nettle and didn’t know how to retract the growth, which ultimately led to the suffering of some unsuspecting bystanders. Got a hive or two myself, but nothing compared to the group of students that took the brunt of it on the front line. This little stunt earned the class a ten-page essay on retracting plant growth and the dangers of uncontrolled herbage. Honestly, just what I needed.

 As soon as the last period bell chimed (for the third time today), I quickly chucked my notebook and ballpoint into my bag and hurried out of Atomic Theory. I always change out of my jumpsuit before dinner. I hate eating in clothes that expose my well-fed stomach. 

I make my way up to the thirteenth floor to access my dorm. The thirteenth floor is by far the coziest of them all. Instead of cleared and pristine halls, upon entering the corridor one is met with a scattered array of sofas, tables littered with magical and muggle games, bookshelves cluttered with various paperback and hardcover copies, and the single Jadeite wall lined with primarily hockey and quidditch posters. A stereo plays some top muggle hits; the audio competes for volume with the crackling sounds that emit from the large pit in the centre of the hall where a seven-foot high flame resides. There are only two doors carved into the green wall: the girl’s and the boy’s dorms. 

The boy’s dorm is essentially a revolving door. People are always filing in and out of the community space. The girl’s dorm on the other hand was simply built out of respect. They never expected anybody to occupy the space, but knew that even though the chances were slim, a female student might enrol one day or another. Thank God for those engineers’ prognostic train of thought, otherwise I’d be either bunking in the fifth-floor supply closet or with a bunch of dudes.

 Weaving my way around a collection of occupied ping-pong and pool tables, I move quickly not to interfere with the final plays of said matches. These boys tend to get cranky with hunger and exhaustion during the final countdown before supper. The steady sound of the hall dies as I pass through the veil that mists over the entrance to the girl’s dorm. It’s a plain space, but what can I say, I’m the only chick to enter this part of the underground school. I’ve managed to liven the place up with some creeping vines and flowers along the tall, straight marble walls that lead to several bedrooms and baths. Even though the hall is meant to appear light and spacious, the lack of fellow roommates makes this place feel more than empty. Like a blank sheet of lined paper, everything here remains untouched and waiting for scuffs and scrapes of wear, something to push its clean order into the hands of disorder. 

Chaos theory loves to make a mess of things.

 I swing through the eighth door on the right into the space that I had claimed as mine. I got rid of the other three unoccupied beds and transformed the room into one that I could proudly call my home away from home. Just like every other room in the school, the dorm is circular, so placing furniture in a way that I didn’t hate turned out to be a real pain in my ass. It took me all of first year to decide where I wanted to place my bed, my desk, and my wardrobe in relation to the door. Once I figured that out, the rest was quite fun. Potted plants invade any and all counter space available in the room, while little knick knacks can also be spotted within the jungle. The skylight ceiling illuminates the white brick walls, casting an intense glare to any prying eyes above the diamond-glass. I think it’s chic.

 I rummaged through my wardrobe for a pair of blue jeans, sneakers, and my royal purple Arctosov crested pullover. One look in the full-length mirror, quickly fixing my hair to get it up and out of my face, and I set off towards the dining hall. I was at the top of the thirteen flights of stairs when a hand closed around my shoulder, slowing my quick pace.

 ‘In a rush are we, ‘B’?’ Jaxon. The only person in this school foolish enough to get between me and my awaiting meal. I sped up, forcing the gangly fourth year to keep stride.

 ‘You try tack on eight extra classes to your schedule. See how you fair come dinner time.’

 ‘I think you’re just complaining for pity,’ he teased, meeting my rib with his elbow. ‘“Look at me, the most powerful being alive. Tired, stressed, and hungry! You have no idea what it’s like to be so damn awesome all the time! It’s exhausting! I –”’ My hand shot out to push Jaxon off balance, nearly sending him down the last couple stairs in the flight we were walking down.

 ‘Your impression of me is beyond inaccurate.’

 ‘And your muscles are beyond underestimated,’ Jaxon shot back with a smirk, rubbing his arm where I contacted him with the blow. ‘Didn’t know you possessed the power of super-strength as well.’

 ‘Like you said, I’m just so damn awesome.’ Our grins mirrored each other as we bounded down the rest of the steps to the first-floor dining hall. This is how our banter went most of the time. It was quick, it was witty, it was smooth. He always knows just how far to push to elicit a shove back, and I always shove back. But he also knows when he’s about to push too far. Rarely ever had we actually fought with one another. In the last four years of school, we’ve only actually fought once, and that’s a story nobody talks about anymore. It was stupid, but it was explosive, and I mean literally explosive. Jaxon is a fire bender, so I’m lucky that I have the ability to take the heat. The library shelves that surrounded us during the dispute… well, they didn’t survive. 

Jaxon was my best friend. A brother. Nothing more, nothing less. In my eyes at least.

 Like cattle, students were milling into and about the dining hall trying to find a place to sit at the single spiral table that coiled into the center of the round room. Purple banners bearing our school crest hung from the high rock ceiling, flashing the menacing stare of the Kodiak that was featured in the heart of the emblem. The student body had encountered a few of the rather large bears during my years at the academy. I never thought I’d ever get the chance to witness such fear amongst a group of insufferably cocky teenage boys, and I loved every second of it. Bunch of pansies.

 ‘B!’ My attention is quickly captured by my two brothers sitting in the middle of the spiral of students. Jaxon and I walk down the winding aisle to sit in front of Zaidyn and Treston, who have also changed out of their uniforms. It is only when we take our seats that I realize that something is definitely not right.

 ‘Hey guys, why the long faces?’ I ask, hesitation evident in my wavering tone. If Treston looks startled, then something big must have happened. This sixth year is not easily phased. 

A couple of our other friends join the group, sitting on either side of Zaidyn and myself. They also become attentive to the tension held within the conversation. Bret and Oscar share a look between themselves then with me, silently looking for an explanation. I simply shrug my shoulders. 

This is weird.

 Treston is the first to speak. ‘Didn’t you hear?’

 ‘Hear what?’ Jaxon and I replied in unison.

 ‘One of them is here,’ Zaidyn continued. ‘Apparently wants to give a speech or something after supper. Not sure what about though.’

 ‘What do you mean here?’ snaps Jaxon. ‘I thought that they weren’t allowed on our turf?’

 ‘Yeah, I’m sure they wouldn’t appreciate it if someone of our kind went poking a nose over the fence,’ Oscar added. Zaidyn simply shook his head in shock. ‘I mean, legally they can’t be here, right? Documentation exists for a reason –’

 ‘Documentation is nothing but a piece of paper and a couple of lousy signatures. Words mean nothing to them. They’ve always turned their backs on allies and their own. Don’t you ever pay attention in Magical History?’ It was meant to be a rhetorical question, but I can still see how my sharp words stung Oscar. He’s always had too much pride for his own good, especially when it comes to his grades in school. His glare notified me that I’d hit a weak spot.

 ‘Alright ladies, claws away,’ Bret chimed in. Always there to referee, but it’s usually Jaxon and I that he tries to simmer down. ‘I know it’s news that none of us want to hear, but if it’s true then we have to keep our heads on our shoulders and on a swivel. I can’t see anything good coming out of this, and I know neither can any of you,’ he said addressing the quiet group.

 ‘All I’m saying is that agreements were made for a reason. If they hadn’t been made, then the magical world would be in a completely different state as of right now. They should be considering themselves lucky that they aren’t extinct,’ Oscar sighed. I had to agree with him there. ‘Our ancestors were patient and wise, which is why we lost so much blood to the wands. But too much animosity had festered for far too long, and quite frankly I don’t consider myself patient or wise. You can’t tell me today’s generation would be so kind as to forgive and forget.’

 Oscar was right and we all knew it. Everybody in the hall knew it, too. We may have forgiven them, but we sure as hell have not forgotten. We are reminded every day we walk through these halls – the only halls on the planet that houses students of our kind. The number of benders left was a thought to make my blood run cold. Although, we are making a comeback; slowly but surely. I gave Oscar a small half-understanding, half-apologetic smile.

 Before I could add anything further to Oscar’s words of truth, a lavish dinner appeared on the table below our chins. Elk roast, wild salmon, kale salad, stuffed mushrooms, and more. I prayed that saskatoon pie was being served for dessert later in the evening. The apprehensive atmosphere quickly dissipated as we dug into our grub. Frowns were replaced with filled-cheek smiles, and the uneasy silence was enveloped in hearty laughter. Talk of the latest playoff news and summer plans seemed to entertain the table enough to keep the conversation going. It was interesting being a part of the guy’s gossip sessions during meals. Not that I would actually call it gossip; maybe more along the lines of petty pissing contests. Wouldn’t be the first time I sat through a mine’s bigger than yours argument.

 It was when our Headmaster stood up from the semi-circle teacher’s table at the back of the hall that the reality of the situation set in once again. Professor Fobert never has to gather the attention of the many eyes leering in anticipation, for their focus was already on him. Fobert’s aura demanded one’s gaze, it did not ask. He was tall, sternly featured, and looked tough as nails. His black-scaled tunic wrapped snugly around his torso, making the greying man look ready for battle at a moment’s notice. When the hall’s sound died down, all that could be heard was the vibrations from deep within the mountain’s abdomen, rock waiting to respond to our Headmaster’s request.

 ‘Good evening, students. I shall speak frankly and I shall speak clearly, that way you will not misunderstand what I am about to tell you.’

 Well that’s a new introduction.

 ‘I have never assumed any of you as naive, therefore I refuse to start now.’

 A very new introduction.

 ‘Most of you are aware that we have a guest joining us this evening. A guest that has come from overseas to speak to you all.’ It seemed as though our Headmaster couldn’t speak quickly enough. Every student in the room was now perched on the edge of their seat, listening intently for the next words to leave Fobert’s mouth. We knew where this was going, but nobody wanted to acknowledge the elephant in the room. 

Fobert opened his mouth to speak again, but words never escaped. Instead, a toothy grin tightened the flesh around his chin, and his eyes looked over the heads of the students sitting before him. Naturally, we all turned our heads in the direction of our superior’s gaze towards the entrance to the hall.

 If the hall was quiet a moment ago, it sure as shit wasn’t anymore. We didn’t even need a second take to confirm our suspicion.

 The man was about the same height as Professor Fobert, but the age difference was quite notable. Where Fobert was steeled with sharp middle-aged wear, the other man appeared worn with the drooping and sagging lines of old-age. He did not wear a tunic and pants, but a floor-length grey robe that matched the colour of his long, neatly kept beard. The cuffs on his sleeves tapered off in the shape of a bell at the knuckles of his boney fingers.

 Only people of wizarding blood dressed like that.

 ‘Albus!’ 

[madame-brioche]

CAMP TOCCOA SERIES HEADCANON

Part 1: Meet the Counselors 🦋

Winters — The Nutritional Counselor:

-teaches math during the off-season

-affectionately calls his campers "little chicken nuggets"

-gets up at 5 in the morning for a quiet hike

-makes sure you take your required medication and vitamins and use your inhaler, whatever you need

-goes around to let everyone know it's time for light's out

-will comfort campers with ice cream if they're feeling homesick

-secretly planning a fun last day of camp prank with Counselor Nixon

-lots of pastels in his uniform

-rescues injured birds and squirrels, and nurses them back to health

-knows every camper's name, hobbies, favorite color, allergies

-pinkie promises on everything

-makes the best ice tea and coffee in the cafeteria

-“I love all of you equally”

Nixon — The Chaotic Functional Counselor

-used to pull legendary pranks before becoming a head counselor but now just does mostly paperwork

-tells nightmare-fuel scary stories and then abruptly says "well goodnight" afterwards & leaves

-carries a secret flask and gets wasted at the campfire

-hungover af at breakfast the next morning

-pets every dog he comes across, and even lets his campers sneak one into the bunks to keep

-wears baggy shorts, a baseball cap backwards and rocks sunglasses indoors

-gets hyped for taco Tuesday's in the cafeteria

-hosts wine Wednesday's in the counselors' lounge

-takes spiders outside rather than killing them

-oddly competitive during icebreaker games

-talks shit about other counselors to his campers

-“can I get a double shot americano with bourbon?”

Lipton — The Mom Counselor

-ray of fucking sunshine

-keeps in touch with his campers after they leave

-has been working there for an insanely long time

-arts and crafts leader, orchestrating friendship bracelet making

-gets along with all the other counselors, never has beef with anyone

-gives the best advice, even if you don't want to hear it

-the best bear hugs omfg just makes you feel so safe and protected

-smells like campfire and s'mores

-literally made out of happiness and gummy worms

-surprises everyone with a pajama pizza party

-makes sure you're staying hydrated and getting enough sleep, applying sunscreen/bug spray, and having a good time

-come to him with any injuries, aches, or pains

-“What do you mean you’re not having fun?”

Speirs — The Varsity Wilderness Survival Counselor

-how did this guy get to be a counselor?

-hides contraband in a shallow hole by the obstacle course

-breaks all the rules but upholds them for his campers

-will come in and scare the living shit out of you if you don't listen to Counselor Winters' lights out warning

-only one who hits Counselor Sobel with a water balloon

-gets up at 4am to lift and run around the campgrounds

-only wears tank tops, even in the cold

-will test his campers by leaving them in the woods at night and expect them to find their way back

-maybe sheds one tear on the last day, maybe

-really high stakes trust exercises

-will suck the venom out of a snake bite to save your life

-moves through the forest without making a sound

-“I will throw you to the mountain lions”

Welsh — The Hip Counselor

-plays Wonderwall on his acoustic guitar during campfire performances

-hasn't showered in a week and it's noticeable

-grows a goatee and runs around barefoot

-is banned from helping out in the kitchen

-will set up your tent for you in exchange for drugs

-reigning tie-dye shirt making champ

-recycling king™️

-makes sure there's vegetarian options in the cafeteria

-smells like mother nature's armpit

-wears a bandana around his head

-can be found avoiding duties and playing ultimate frisbee with his campers

-“tbh, I’ve had five existential crises since we’ve been here!”

Compton — The Cool Friend Counselor

-wears a different flannel everyday

-calls you out for your bullshit during cabin meetings

-gives the best pep talks before games of capture the flag

-somehow manages to read 4+ books over the course of camp

-knows how to sew/patch up clothes

-leads most of the cheers and rallying songs

-hangs out with campers instead of other counselors in his free time

-always down for darts, archery, swimming, sailing, kayaking, you name it

-overshares personal life details during campfire sharing time

-will totally help you TP Counselor Sobel’s cabin

-once ate a bee on a dare

-“guys, I’m not mad but who put weed killer in my shampoo?”

Martin — The Don’t F With Me Counselor

-resting bitch face during camp cheers

-aggressively salutes the flag during morning assembly

-inexplicably good at memorizing everyone’s name on the first day

-openly drinks gin and tonic in the cafeteria

-the reason a few campers wanted to go home

-somehow ends up being one of your favorite counselors by the last day

-is not subtle about playing favorites

-cooks most of the food for the camp and will be insulted if you don’t eat what’s on your plate

-can do that loud whistle with his fingers to get everyone’s attention

-low key freaks out if one of his campers is missing and will not rest until they’re found

-mood can go from 0 to 100 over the pettiest things

-“Yeah I’m gonna need you to kindly pipe the fuck down with the crazy glue for the rest of craft time”

Randleman — The Boy Scout Counselor

-wears a lot of camo at all times

-scary good at poker

-smokes on the premises even though it’s forbidden

-talks fast and direct, commands your attention

-makes a mean s’more and prefers the marshmallow to be burnt

-will let his campers get away with the most shenanigans so long as it’s not hurting anyone

-actually cries the last day of camp

-kickball and flag football champion

-has wrestled a grizzly bear and won

-collects pocket knives and random critters

-bff’s with Counselor Martin and sometimes takes charge of Martin’s campers and vice versa

-has never gotten bit by a mosquito

-snores loudly and will sleep through anything

-has been granted camp counselor tenure because he’s been there so dang long

-“y’all wanna go sink a canoe?”

Peacock — The Cute But Clueless Counselor

-wears a lot of band t-shirts merch

-has song lyrics tattooed on various body parts

-rocks an intentional mullet

-constantly getting lost when leading hikes but great at improvising

-has a tan even if the sun hasn’t been out

-blood smells like cologne

-instructs canoeing and determines whether you pass the swim test or not

-has a way with animals and manages the small camp petting zoo

-got six stitches last year from doing a flip off the dock

-gets scared from the scary stories Counselor Nixon tells

-“la la la la if I can’t hear the ghosts they can’t hurt me”

Dike — The Absentee Counselor

-says “oof” after any minor inconvenience

-oversleeps and misses morning assembly

-a camper may die on his watch, you never know

-gives sub par motivational speeches

-tries to comfort homesick campers but ends up crying himself

-has a fear of swimming without water wings

-might get mauled by a bear later

-given up on learning his campers’ names

-calls other counselors for help

-has one facial expression at all times

-spits when he talks

-constantly stressed during outdoor camping

-passive aggressiveness af during cabin meetings

-sleeps with a night light

-“wait am I responsible for all of you?”

Sobel — The Narc Counselor

-literally no one likes him

-mission is to make sure everyone follows his rules

-carries around a bullhorn and a backup whistle

-failed the swim test

-says “fight me” but would get his ass kicked

-misspells everything

-will give you latrine duty if you leave your bunk bed unmade or the dishes aren’t in alphabetical order

-doesn’t participate in campfire games or sing alongs

-got left behind on a trail for 9 hours once

-confiscates any and all contraband camp items including non regulated shoes

-likes noodles with ketchup

-perpetual disappointed glare

-has a cold like once a week

-only allows one s’more per camper

-“and you will know my name is the lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee, now put this can of peaches back where it belongs!”

Stay tuned for Part 2: The Campers

[thecandywrites]

Of Heaven and Fire Part 17

Where Brock suffers the consequences of his actions. *evil cackling*

@imherefortheforthefanart​ @probablyclever​ @funmadnessandbadassvikings​

Of Heaven and Fire 

Part 17

Brock woke up to feeling more hungover than he ever felt before in his life and his whole body itched as his skin crawled from all the mosquito bites as flies buzzed around him before he sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he looked around at his surroundings then back at the clan’s village where he could see the people hewing stones and moving them into place, in front of the same place that your house once stood before he snarled at it. They really were building an alter to you, a shrine, like you really were a goddess, idiots. You were just a woman, there were thousands, maybe millions just like you all over. 

You weren’t that special. 

He instead distracted himself with going through what he was able to keep. He still had his weapons and his armor. He didn’t need much else. He could hunt, he could use his battle ax since one side was a hammer, the other side was an ax and the ax was shaving sharp as he grinned at the eagle carved into it, this warhammer axe was Binga’s greatest creation and with it he had promised her to be his chief blacksmith. They had been friends since infancy, through childhood and into adulthood, mostly because Binga never wanted anything romantically with him and Binga had been one of his true friends and had an honesty and candor that he appreciated in addition to her talents which had no equal in the clan. 

So he set his eyes on the forest- looking at one particularly good tree, just that one tree would be enough for him to make at least a small shelter. He would show them all that he could be just fine without the clan. How many legends did orcdom have of clans starting from a single orc? Too many to count and history repeated itself many times over. He would start his own clan and it would be the greatest clan ever, it would be a purely orc clan where mouras would have no place in it and he took his moura cloak off and watched as it shrunk down to a collar, covered in leather before he put it in his pack, maybe he could sell it or something. He had lived his whole life without the moura influence, he would live the rest of his life without too. 

As he was in the forest, trying to figure out how to fell this tree he overheard talking, it was from his former suitors, they were talking about how they needed to get to Hurricane Breaker and try to court Bedhu because Brock was obviously impossible to please. 

“I’m not impossible to please!” Brock argued which scared those women shitless as they screamed and jumped away at the sight of him. 

“What?” Brock asked as he noticed they looked at him with alarm, pity and disgust once they recognized him. 

“Come on, we should go.” Vursa encouraged her friends as she pulled them away from him.  

“Wait! Stop, just...if you stay with me and help me, I’ll mate and claim all of you, we can start our own clan.” Brock proposed desperately as his stomach was reminding him that he had yet to eat breakfast or lunch as he began to stare longingly at their food pouches. 

“What so you can rape us when you want, eat all our food and choke us too when we piss you off?! You just want a slave you can beat the shit out of in any way you can.” Vursa spat at him. 

“No! I would never, I… I lost my temper, I was drunk and I just hated Miss Auksa and I was being forced into mating with her.” Brock tried to excuse himself as he flushed with embarrassment at the recollection of the events the day before. 

“Bullshit, one minute you were worshiping the ground Yana walked on and the next you hated her worse than she ever hated you when you first captured her and while she had every reason to hate you, you never had a good reason to hate her. You switch your moods faster than the wind changes. And even before Yana came into your life you were always a stuck up, self righteous pain in our collective asses.” Vursa bluntly revealed. 

“What? Just because I’m not the future warchief, I’m not good enough for you to talk to anymore? Let alone be with?” Brock sneered as the girls simply grinned like derisively at him. 

“Duh, we were after you because even if you were a snore in the bedroll and an awkward dork in the streets, you were still the handsome first born of the warcheif and the promise of an easy life with honor and respect was worth it to us to do whatever we could to try to get at that life. But it’s all gone, you threw it all away for what? So you didn’t have to be married to a moura? Even after she did everything anyone could ever ask of her and more? You just used her the way you have always used everyone else in Stormbreaker, you even used us, just for a flask of whiskey. Yana dodged a missile getting away from you. I can’t imagine the bullshit and fuckery she’d have to put up with being your mate. And you know what? We are too. Because what are you really offering now that you have absolutely nothing?  A new clan? A clan of what? Four? Starting from scratch in the woods and built off of what? Petty jealousy, resentment and hatred? You can chop down enough wood to build us a house big enough for all of us with an ax that’s only ever seen soft squishy bodies instead of stone timbers?” Vursa asked as she began to laugh in scornful amusement as she knocked on the tree next to her, listening to the solid sound echo in the forest around them, the kind of tree was known as a stone timber, since it was the hardest of all woods, and while chopping it down and splitting it was almost as hard as working with actual stone but whatever was built from it would stand for a five times as long as other woods but one look at his warhammer ax, there was no way it would chop down a stone timber. 

“Hell no, I may be a whore in your mother’s opinion, but even I have standards and enough self respect to know that that reward is never going to be worth that kind of work and risk, you have nothing to offer me. Your dick has never worked for me or anyone else, in fact I think it’s a miracle it worked for Yana at all. Your hands are useless and your tongue is trash and if you couldn’t be happy or satisfied with a goddess, we don’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of ever satisfying each other, let alone making each other happy in any sense. We’re done Brock.” Vursa spat before she tried to walk away again. 

“Yana put me under a curse so that none of it worked, now that she’s gone, it’s lifted!” Brock insisted. 

“It doesn’t matter! You’re cursed Brock! Look at you! Your body is ate up with bites, your hair is hacked off, your honor is shredded, you’re disowned from your family and your clan with no hope of redemption and you’re living in the woods like a beast! And you cursed the very clan you came from. All of us watched as eels from under Yana’s house hatched out of a weird nest and just this morning we watched as they began eating their way through the estuary and every little stream they got into, the water turned black and silty. We even tried to damn them up but the fuckers can walk on land and breathe air and they’ve evaded the dams and they’re spreading like a plague through the waters as we speak. And now the clan is filled with legends of a thankless asshole who rejected the goddess and cursed his clan and the eels are sign from the gods Vagla and Zota of destruction. You’ll be lucky if you get malaria and die before you have to watch the very clan your father worked so hard to build and establish gets swallowed by the very eels you unleashed sending Yana away, none of this would have happened if she never moved her house.” Vursa insisted before she and the others turned and marched away leaving Brock seething before he took his warhammer-ax and threw it into the woods, hearing a clank as the distinct sound of metal hitting stone reverberated through the forest before Brock growled again before he went looking for the damn thing. 

He walked for what felt like hours before he finally found his warhammer ax laying shattered in several pieces at the base of a large boulder that was cracked from the impact before he roared in frustrated anger and let a string of curses fly out of his mouth before he tried to pick up the pieces and use those to at least hack some smaller saplings, having to wrap the pieces in cloth and leather to keep them from shredding his hands and the saplings were of paper trees, a tree that was so soft, pulping it was easy and cutting it down was easy but still hard for him with his broken tools since chopping an actual tree down was impossible for him and building a small shelter out of saplings took nearly all his depleting strength and the only thing he managed to kill was a squirrel by hitting it with a small rock and here he sat just trying to make a damn fire out of the dryer debris from the forest floor. 

It was sunset by the time he got the fire going and was able to keep it going enough to cook the lone squirrel as he sat on a rock and roasted the flesh of it as he tried to think of names to suit his new clan but he couldn’t think of anything. 

In the coming weeks, things just got worse, all his clothes tore and he ran out of thread to mend them and his armor fell apart as if he had been fighting in a hundred wars every time he wore it so to keep himself from being naked, he had to put on his moura cloak to make his clothes and even then, all of his clothes either left him cold or left him overheated because he couldn’t get the hang of how to change the outfits other than either an undergarment or a heavy winter cloak before he found something close to what he would normally wear. He ran out of soap to keep himself clean and he couldn’t seem to capture any game bigger than a trash panda and he lost weight and muscle mass because he wasn’t intaking enough food, let alone carbs to keep his stamina up and the water from the nearby stream which wasn’t connected to Stormbreaker’s waterways was sour and he could only catch a crawfish or two and the shame and guilt of his past actions chased his sleep away as he tried to come to grips as to why he had reacted to you the way he did and it was all just a big blank. He cut down every sapling he could to try to make his house more substantial but the walls breathed and the floor was uneven and unfomfortable and if it had not been for his moura cloak, he would be freezing at night because summer had turned to autumn and now autumn was turning into winter and the only relief he got was that the frost killed the mosquitos and his ability to hunt improved with more “barbaric” tools such as a spears and his only company was a pair of birds, one a white dove, the other, a black raven who were always together, who seemed to watch him from a distance and while it was impossible for him to catch them, they seemed to stick around and just watch. The dove during most of the day, the raven, at night. It got to the point that the only way Brock could stay sane is by talking to the damn birds for company. 

Finally after the third hard frost his mother appeared with a basket on her hip, after hearing where he had settled from the hunting parties. 

“Brock?” She called out before he peeked his head out of his little shelter. 

“Mom!” He called out as he recognized her and eagerly got out and rushed over to her, hugging her tight, making her drop her basket so she could hug him as they were both brought to tears as they hugged each other tight. 

“You’re so thin!” Rhos realized as they pulled apart and they got to see each other and Brock could only hang his head in shame. 

“Hunting has been hard for me.” Brock explained. “No big game comes anywhere around here.” He answered. 

“Well game has become scarce since the summer.” She answered as Brock frowned. 

“Come, is there room in your shelter for both of us?” She asked before he reluctantly brought her into it as they managed to sit side by side in it before she showed him what she brought him. Several loaves of bread, one of which he quickly consumed, having not had bread since he left the clan back in the summer. A big block of cheese, covered in wax and some dried and cured meats along with some root vegetables that could be stored along with a few onions and heads of garlic and the biggest hunk of soap he had ever seen and a new comb and a proper ax for cutting down stone trees along with a bundle of medicine herbs and all Rhos could do is watch on sadly as Brock tried to inhale a little bit of everything, having been dreaming about these foods since he left. 

“The warchief of Stormbreaker has a proposition for you.” Rhos began as Brock paused in his eating. To hear of his father so far removed from him in verbage still cut like a knife and instead of being angry or resentful, all he could feel was sadness and regret. 

“We are leaving for Suchi in a week. If you have had enough punishment for your wrongdoing, and if you would humbly consider reconciling with Benyana who is due to give birth in only two weeks or so, you can come back to the clan.” She revealed. 

“And if I don’t?” Brock asked after he weighed her words and couldn’t bring himself to look at her, only consider the loaf of bread in his hands. 

“Then you can come back and watch the house while we’re gone but only while we’re gone, provided you do not cause harm to anything in the house. When we come back from the birth, the only thing you’ll be informed of is how Benyana came through the birth and the outcome, if what she is carrying is really a son or not which seems unlikely that she isn’t carrying one because all tests have proven that she is carrying a son. But those words will be the last words any of us are allowed to speak to you for as long as you live and you will once again be chased off of clan lands and it will be the last time we will ever see you in this lifetime and all others after and this is the last help any of us can ever offer you and all memory of you will be forgotten except for the legends already being told about you, but you are always referred to as ‘the cursed’ in all of those. And no one ever is allowed to be named Brock ever again, in fact no one is allowed to have a name that starts with B in the clan because for fear they would be associated with you. And all those who did have a name that started with B have already changed their names in the clan. Except for Benyana’s name which is always spoken of in reverence. She has been elevated to a goddess and the shrine to her is the biggest in the clan and anyone harming the shrine will immediately be put to death.  She is now the patron goddess of moura orcs, even those in Hurricane Breaker have followed suit and built a full blown temple in her honor and she is the goddess of many more things in their clan, like reuniting, of fortunes, specifically of inheritance, of connecting to your past and prosperous business. And if it wasn’t for her alter and the blessing of her alter, Stormbreaker would have fallen already.” She revealed. 

“What do you mean fallen?” Brock asked. 

“Brock, this year was the worst harvest there ever in the land’s history, after Benyana left, there was a storm that caused a flood that destroyed so much and the hail in that storm knocked all the fruit off the trees before it could grow to any real size and ripen and the hail damaged a lot of houses, then a drought came in the land dried up what was left, we have not had rain since the storm.” She revealed as Brock realized that he too never had rain in the forest and the water level in the nearby stream had dropped since he came in the summer and now late autumn, it was barely a trickle. 

“And if that wasn’t bad enough, the eels ate up every fish in the estuary before they swam out to sea where one of the water dragons was waiting for them before it swallowed all of them whole and once the shrine was built, the silt settled but the water in the wells was never the same, it’s grown bitter and sour and now, the only fish to be found are tiny minnows that hug the edges of all the little streams around the estuary. The only time animals touch the ground of Stormbreaker is before they’re slaughtered for food there, they die overnight if you don’t and something in them spoils the meat quickly when they’re on Stormbreaker ground, the only food and livesstock we have is all on Drauch. That’s where all of this came from because there’s just not much of anything left in Stormbreaker. And every woman in Stormbreaker has since moved to Drauch because they’re afraid that if they step foot in Stormbreaker, they could lose their own pregnancies because those who have not wanted their pregnancies have stayed in Stormbreaker and have lost them overnight and we can’t know what their number is. Now all the women who stay in Stormbreaker are only there to keep from being pregnant, so of course the whorehouse is crammed full of whores from all over, it also means that they’re clean too, any sexually transmitted diseases die on them overnight now and many come to get “cured” but quickly leave again. Now only single men who are helping with guiding the ships through the estuary live there, everyone and everything else has moved to Drauch where we still have food, water and the best shelter the clan has ever enjoyed and the temple to Benyana is the grandest in the city and all roads lead to it eventually. The sale of the fish is the only way the clan has survived so we can buy what we need from the sales and your former percentage of all those sales goes to Benyana to care for her and her offspring from now on for forever and Cugas and Kaive go through all the catches and get the best of everything and bring it to her as food supplements too.” She revealed as Brock’s heart sunk deeper and deeper. 

“How is she doing otherwise?” Brock felt compelled to ask which brought a sad smile to his mother’s face, at the lowly tone he used. Almost like he actually cared. 

“She’s almost lost the baby to grief several times now and she rarely smiles for any length of time longer than a heartbeat, and her state is no different than any other widow I suppose because to everyone, you died in the flames and what sits besides me now is an imposter to the Brock everyone knew and loved before the death in flames. Her parents and her other siblings as well as the rest of the warchief’s other children never leave her side and we have all practically moved in with her to help care for her and the warchief has cried many times, wishing he had a son who was close in age to her and would love her and be the father to her child because suitors have tried to come out of the woodwork because they look at her goddess status and all her blessings and her enormous house and wealth and her sad nature and do everything they can to cheer her up. There is one that comes and goes all the time that she is closest too and they talk often in private. He’s a fae prince, but he insists that we all call him Matae and even his parents and siblings and friends and relatives come to see her every so often, giving her more gifts than anyone can count because she is the single most blessed being any of us have ever known. Every day Matae comes and talks with her, he has vowed to everyone that he will help her through the birth if you are not there and he will claim her child if you do not and he will love her until you are never called to her mind again and her family is pleased as is her colony and even the warchief gives Matae his blessing and he’s a good person. He’s playful and fun yet intelligent, protective and surprisingly sensitive but despite all this, Benyana does not love him. She only likes him as a close friend and nothing more, as if she is holding out hope you’ll come to your senses. She has begged and pleaded the clan not to hunt you like a trophy bear and bring you to her like a caged animal since you are little better than a beast or bring you to her in a heap of limbs with your head on a platter as revenge for the curse you brought to the clan. But she insists that you be left alone to suffer the consequences of your actions since that is punishment enough and that no one is to guilt you into doing anything. And that everything you do must be of your own free will.” Rhos revealed and all Brock could do was hang his head in shame. He treated you like an enemy and you were still protecting him like a friend and he was if anything, the epitome of undeserving but his pride wouldn’t let him admit that.  

“So. This basket is magicked, it can hold much more than it looks like it can. If you choose not to go, you can bring this back when you watch the house and go through what is left of Stormbreaker and salvage whatever you want from what has been left behind, this basket should carry all of it. But know that that will be the last time you walk onto the clan’s grounds because after that, the clan’s houses will be burned and all trace of Stormbreaker will be destroyed so that the lands will return to the way they were before we ever settled there.” She informed him gravely. 

“What?” Brock frowned in disbelief as a deep sinking feeling settled in his gut and on his chest and it made it harm for him to breathe. 

“It’s already been decided. Even now the whores are packing up to leave. When we leave for Suchi, it will be the last time anyone in Stormbreaker will ever touch that ground except for the warchief’s family. And the only things that are to be left behind, are the gifts to Benyana’s temple and alter, and her gifts for you. When we come back, if you don’t take those gifts with you, then we will take them and put them in a museum on Drauch and they will be admired and revered until time indefinite.” She informed him before she got up and dusted off her skirt as she made ready to leave. 

“Come, give me a hug,” she insisted before he did, they embraced for what felt like the final time. 

“Please choose wisely Brock.” Rhos cried into his shoulder before she forced herself to walk away from him, leaving Brock to just watch as she did so, feeling like his feet were rooted to the ground no matter how badly he wanted to follow her, like a duckling or a chick following its mother. But his pride and stubbornness and obstinance would still not allow it. 

Once he couldn’t hear her, or see her, he went back to the basket and pulled out a tent and hastily put it up and found a cot and a bed roll and even more food, even a little wash basin so he could wash himself and his clothes properly other than dunking himself in the nearby trickling stream and inside was a pair of scissors that he used to trim his hair so that it was mostly even and his scraggly beard that had grown along with a simple bow and arrows so he could hunt properly. And he even found mending supplies and some material that he quickly used to mend his old tattered clothes and boots so he could put the moura cloak back on over it and was finally comfortable.  

Six days later he was seen walking back, the basket fashioned into something of a backpack on his back and when he got to the outskirts he stopped where his family used hunting gestures to ask if he was coming and all he could do is cross his arms in front of him which was the universal sign for ‘no’ before everyone just shook their heads and loaded up everything onto Drauch and Brock waited until they were ready to leave when his father signed for him to come with him and follow him but Brock just signed back ‘no’ and shook his head and his mom had to drag his dad back up onto Drauch before the stairway lifted off the ground and the boats themselves lifted from the harbor to dock with Drauch in the clouds before Drauch flew on the breeze to Suchi as a huge gust of wind blew the city to Suchi and only then did Brock get up and go into the abandoned clan village. 

He went around the edges of the village first, harvesting what was left in the gardens, going through the houses, salvaging what was left behind as he noticed a pattern. Every family left something useful in every house. One would have a small sack of one kind of spice and another would have a sack of a different spice, never the same exact thing. One would have a cooking pan or pot, one would have a tool of some kind, one would have a fur, or a cloak, or material, or sewing supplies, as if each household was giving Brock one last tribute and gift and Brock could only weep as he realized the significance of this. 

In orcdom, whenever a warchief retired, either from old age, or injury, each family would give an offering to the warchief as a way for him to live the rest of his life in comfort and peace as thanks for leading them but that there was new leadership, usually whoever the warchief chose to succeed him as successor. It was a proper goodbye and send off and absolutely final. There was no way back from this in any clan’s eyes. 

He finally made his way to his house, where the kitchen was thankfully fully stocked as he set aside all he would want to eat over the next week or so and packed all the rest before he used what he had gathered to make himself his first- last meals at home. It wasn’t as grand as his last meal here was, but it was just as good as any other he had had here. 

Here he sat, at his usual place at the table and ate, feeling like he saw ghosts of his family every time he looked around. Memories of all the fun and happy times spent around this table. 

Then he began to drink. For the first time, he drank to remember. Remember every detail of his life and his childhood here because they were the only happy memories he had left. He was also grateful to be in a house where the cold wind doesn’t come through either the gaps of the saplings or the fabric of the tent. 

Then he heard the door open and someone walk in. Normally he would be defending this place, but right now, he was hoping it was someone who had not listened to you to come and put him out of his misery. 

Instead he found Binga. 

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more pathetic, you surprise me and find a new low to stoop to.” She spat as she tossed a handful of blacksmithing tools in front of him disrespectfully. 

“I was waiting for you to come to the shop to gather your last tribute but you never came.” She incited. 

“Shut up and go away.” He grumbled from his stein. 

“No, you have no power or authority to order me to do anything.” She reminded him as she stalked over and sat across from him as she took in the sight of him and could only shake her head. 

“Because the current warchief stripped you of that power, remember? Before he shortly kicked you out of this house.” She reminded him. 

“All for what? Because you didn’t want to marry a goddess?” She jabbed and Brock could feel himself getting drunk enough to lose his inhibitions completely. 

“She was never a goddess! She was just a woman! There’s a billion more just like her!” He roared back. 

“And yet she was the only one who wanted you for you, who actually loved you for you and she will be the only one to ever do either for the rest of your life. And you treated her like garbage after everything she did for you. You told me yourself that she was the love of your life before you were reborn and she is giving birth to your firstborn quite possibly as we speak and you won’t even go! You’re missing it because you’re a pathetic spineless coward!” She roared back.

“She’s not the love of my life, I’ll find a way back into my father’s good graces, and I’m going to be the next warchief of my own clan, I don’t need or even want love, I need a good warchieftess.” He argued hotly. 

“Then you could have picked one of the dozen whores who had been after you since you were 5, hell pick all of them because all of them together will never be as good as she was even on her worst days. Come here.” She dragged him to the living room where all your betrothal gifts were put on display. 

“Look around Brock! She gave you all of this, all those other women working together over five lifetimes will never be able to give you a gift that is even in the same realm as this. This bar that she set is perfect. There are no greater gifts than the ones she gave you!” Binga yelled as she took the clothes and armor off the walls and handed them to him but he wouldn’t hold them, he just let them fall to his feet as he stared at them resentfully as tears flooded his own vision. 

“And you know what? All those girls that had been after you your whole life? Where are they now? If they actually cared about you, they would have scooped you up from the forest and had you live with them or even helped you build a new home or new clan or whatever but they didn’t. Because they’re already gone. They took one look at all this and knew that there was no way they were ever going to top any of this, that there is nothing on this planet that anyone can give anyone else, even if they had limitless fortunes, there isn’t anything they could have ever bought or made for you that would even be close and you know it!” She continued to yell and gesture to everything else as Brock simply winced at her words since he couldn’t argue with her. 

“Why Brock? Why did you reject her?” Binga asked as tears came to her own eyes and Brock couldn’t answer her, he couldn’t even look at her, only hang his head in shame as she put her hands on her hips. 

“The only thing I can think of that would have made a difference is if Benyana would have been a moura orc but the only other moura orcs are in Hurricane Breaker and none of them give a shit about you and will never come to claim you. You really are an asshole because even as perfect as all of this is you still found a way to find fault in it, in all of it! Gods you’re such a stubborn stupid asshole!” She roared, feeling another wave of anger swell. 

“She gave you everything, the clan had never been richer or more prosperous or has ever had this much peace or abundance before because she turned all your enemies into allies, she turned gold, she taught you and your family how to turn mud and rocks into gold, she healed your wounds and bedded you all while she battled her own morning sickness which is a limit that is too far for even our own full orc women and it’s still not good enough for you?! She gave you the best and greatest betrothal gifts anyone could ever give another and you embarrassed her and shamed her and humiliated her into leaving in front of the whole clan and even then she handled it with more grace and dignity than anyone could ever bear it and if I was moura I would have burned you alive myself right then and there.” Binga insisted as Brock still wouldn’t move, wouldn’t react, wouldn’t look up at her. Pitiful thing he was which just enraged Binga even more. 

“Even if you didn’t like her- just the fact that she’s carrying your child should have been enough for you to stand by her and take care of her and do right by her or do you not even have enough honor for that? The answer to that is of course no, because you have no honor! She was the only one not to give a shit that you’re going to be warchief, she would no sooner set you on fire herself than give you the time of day in the beginning and that’s what everyone loves about her because she doesn’t care about standing or hierarchy, only about the person you are and I feel so sorry for her that she fell in love so hard with someone as ungrateful and selfish as you. She fought for you and gave you everything she had even as the rest of her world turned on her and you rejected her. She has more fire in her than any furnace  and she was the only one who called you out on your shit. Even when you were in Suchi she did so with the most beautiful elegance to keep your own dignity intact. And everyone needs someone like that. She was the best thing to ever happen to you and to this clan and you used her and threw her away.” Binga spat in disgust. 

“And now that she’s gone, we’re all suffering, the harvest was the worst it’s been in years, the estuary only has the tiniest minnows now all the other fish are gone. The flocks are dwindling because we’ve eaten them faster than we can buy them and faster than they can breed. And thank the gods for the deal we have in Suchi and the water dragons because otherwise all of us would have starved to death by now. Don’t you think it’s odd that no one has gotten pregnant on this land since she left? No one reaped this fall because everyone is just trying to survive the winter. You cursed us all because of your stubbornness. And if you don’t leave right this second and go after her and bring her and your child back after it’s born, when your father gets back and she and her child aren’t here where they should be, we will create a new moura orc colony of our own further up river and make a new clan without you in it and the clan of Stormbreaker will die with you. For the next week, it’s just going to be you and this empty, abandoned, broken down clan village that could have been something great if you had been a real man and own up to your responsibilities and I hope that they leave these gifts here at Benyana’s alter forever to remind you of her every day for the rest of your life, forever alone and forever haunted by her.  And maybe the biggest reason you rejected her is because you still know deep down in your soul that she’s too good for you, she always has been and she always will be.” She sneered before she left and got on her horse and ran her horse to catch up with Drauch at the next little village to pick up some supplies. 

Suddenly Brock had never felt such a deep and all consuming rage before coursing through his veins like he did in that moment and he took the orb you gave him as a parting gift and threw it as hard as he could against a wall and it shattered like it had been a super thin shell of either ceramic or glass, the thing had felt so strong and solid in his hands before, to see that it was in fact so fragile surprised him. But what surprised him even more was that all that was left from the shattered pieces was a glowing light and it moved as if it had a life of it’s own before all at once it outright attacked him and the moment it touched him it infiltrated his skin, it got up his nose and in his mouth and into his lungs and it burned like super cold ice and all Brock could do is lay on the floor and thrash like he was having a seizure and wait for death and then….

It unlocked his memory and in a rush, it all came back.

[gukooky]

🏷 rules: answer the ten questions, write your own, and tag ten people

🏷 tagged by the cutie who shares the same braincell as me, @nakyngs. luv ya bb!!

1. what was your first kpop bias, and who in that group is your bias now?

mark tuan from got7!!! bruh when i first got into kpop, he became my mf life 👀 but now...it’s jaebum oopsies. i went through a bambam phase in early 2019 but it’s changed again since and now its jaebum haha

2. what member of your ult group would fight / bicker with the most and why?

idk but jisung (skz) bc i just feel like i could take him ??? also idk i feel like i could bicker with him ab the stupidest shit all the time... (hyunjin too bc he’s a dramatic bih but i’ll stick with jisung)

3. what popular kpop song do you not like that everyone else seems to love?

oooof i had to think hard about this one. but i think it has to be kill this love by bp. don’t get me wrong, bp is great and all but that song ain’t it for me. you’ll see me do the dance if it comes on but only bc after having to listen to it millions of times, i’ve gotten used to it.

4. tell the story of how you got into kpop!

ahh! okay so on jan 1st, 2017, i was bored in my room and i just had a thought “yo i’m gonna do something strange...i’m gonna get into kpop.” it honestly came out of nowhere and to this day i don’t remember what drove me to think that. anyway, stepping into a whole new world is difficult bc like, where do you start y’know? so i was like ‘i think yters have reacted to kpop on that react channel (i always ignored those) so let’s watch those’ and i saw got7′s just right for the first time and went “THIS. THIS IS IT!” i became obsessed with got7 for a good three weeks until...i just stopped aksjas. i lowkey forgot about kpop but then i remembered i also liked bts’ song dope/fire and 4minute’s song hate/crazy so i kept listening to those (yes i listened to the same 5-6 kpop songs for the whole month of march) until i decided, no if im going to get into kpop, i gotta go all in and devote myself to a group. so on the iconic weekend of april 11-13, i decided to get into bts and spring break was coming up (omg thank god) and i spent the WHOLE WEEK watching bts videos, learning everything there was to know about bts (cue the cringing at “jimin you got no jams” and “excuse me”) and there were getting bigger as i became a fan so that kind immersed me further in the fandom? and yeah that’s it...

5. if you were a fictional character, what character archetype would you fall into? also, elaborate you lazy shit <3

omg um if we’re going by the common archetypes, i’d probs be a mix of the lover, and joker. if you ask my friends, i’m definitely a hopeless romantic who wants a bf (i’m that bitch oops) but then i’m also that friend who’s just optimistic and tries to lighten the mood a whole bunch askldj

6. you can only eat one food and drink one beverage (not counting water) for the rest of your life. what food and drink do you choose?

elena, i fr hate this question omg how can i choose >:( umm i’d probably choose this chicken and rice dish my grandma makes bc it’s my absolute favorite food. and for a beverage, probablyyy passionfruit juice!!

7. if you could instantly be fluent in any one language (in addition to your native and/or already spoken languages), which language would you choose?

ok so i’m half latina and i understand most spanish but i wish i could speak it more fluently bc some of my fam don’t speak english and the language barrier sucks. but if i were to be fluent in a language i’ve not been exposed to it’d prob be korean or japanese bc i’m lazy at reading subs whoops.

8. along the line of 3 wishes, you get to permanently remove any 3 things from the world forever (for example, a certain kind of bug etc. broad ideas such as world hunger or oppression aren’t allowed bc humans gonna keep doing that shit~). what 3 things do you make disappear?

oooo i like this q!!! i’d probs get rid of mosquitos bc those lil shits are annoying as hell (i hate bugs (utterly terrified of them) in general) also let’s get rid of my procrastination and laziness ajdjsk👀

9. what is one song you think everyone should hear?

never gonna give you up - rick astley 🤪 (it’s deadass my favorite song)

10. list 3 5 (did i edit your question? maybe i did) of your tumblr crushes and you MUST tag them!

my tumblr crushes? hm there’s way more than this but i wuv @scriptaed​ @kinktae​ and @junqkook​ @joonary​ and @gukyi�� !!

my questions!!! 1. if there’s an idol you feel the most connected/similar to, who is it and why? 2. when did you get into kpop and who was your first group? 3. tea or coffee?  4. what’s a song you have on repeat at the moment? 5. what’s your fav album from your ult group and why? 6. what’s your all time favorite movie? 7. if you could go back in time and change something in your life (without worrying about changing the future) what would you change and why? 8. write five words to describe your personality! 9. at an amusement park, what ride are you drawn to first?  10. what are the top five fandoms you’re a part of?

im tagging anyone who wants to do it! just tag me so I can see all your answers!

[monochromemedic]

Just a Bug

Deacon surveyed the area, walking in circles around me and peaking his head up and down in almost a comical matter. I rolled my eyes, adjusting my coat and trying not to trip over his fancy footwork. “Are you getting a good layout of the land, Stretch?”  “Eh could be better. I could get Tinker Tom to get me some killer stilts. You think that’d be intimidating? I mean if anyone walks around in stilts for fun around here, i’d be shaking in my sneakers.” He decreed. “I’ll bring it up to him, see what he thinks. If anyone can make it look easy, it’s Tom.” “Certainly make you taller. A real babe, people love tall men. Would just probably need to wear a long trench coat.” I snickered, placing a hand on his shoulder as he continued to walk around, giving a dramatic, dancer like spin. “I could make it work. Ask anyone in the Railroad, I can make any disguise work. Little known fact, before all of this railroad stuff went down, I got contacted by some model agencies.” He smirked, taking my hand and spinning me as well before letting me go to stumble a little before walking in my intended direction. “Uh-huh... which ones?” “Some thing for Diamond City advertising. They wanted more people to come so they thought that some old school advertising would do the deed. I declined, I’m a humble sort of guy.” I didn’t respond,  instead just watching as he circled around my front again, a cocky smirk on his face. I was stopped again by his hand on my shoulder, turning me to look at a slumped red smudge in the distance.

“Hold up. Take a gander.” I raised an eyebrow, already reaching for my small pistol. “Looks big. I can’t really make it out.” I stepped forward a bit and squinted before resting my hovering hand to my side.  “Brahmin corpse.” “Hell yeah. You know what this means? If it’s fresh, I don’t have to eat some rat meat we found in the sewer! That’s like... two levels higher in the meat scale.” He grinned, running over to the body, giving a little hop as he approached. “Oh that is... RIPE.” he coughed, covering his face as he approached. “Yeah no shit what would you expect-” I was cut off as I saw something flutter by the corpse. Out of the guts and sinew of the mutated calf, a bloodbug rose, head twitching and legs wiping the old blood from it’s huge eyes. I froze, breath caught in my throat as I choked on my own spit. I could see it. Rising higher, quick movements, a sharp thrust through the neck of my friend. Gurgling, gasping, stabbing over and over. Another lost family, another lost friend. Deacon must have seen my face and turned around, quickly stumbling back as he pulled out his own pistol, giving a quick and precise shot to the bug’s wing, causing it to fall the the ground, twitching and writhing around. “Hey maybe, I don’t know, say ‘Hey Deacon, big bug behind you’” He huffed, walking over to the giant mosquito, stomping on it’s head to finish it off before jumping at the splatter it made. He wiped the sole of his shoe against the ground, sticking his tongue out slightly before turning towards me. “Hey uh... you’re still pale you doing ok? I promise i’m not that mad, it was one of those famous Deacon lies.” I was too busy staring at the splattered remains, head ringing with the sound of my own heartbeat.  ‘It was gone. It was ok. It was over. Breathe.’ I tried to tell myself only to give a ragged gasp as I was knocked out of my own haze by Deacon’s hands on my shoulders. “’Ay easy, easy.... You look ready to pass out. Are you really scared of bugs? I never took you as one of those uh... insect...phobes. Whatever they’re called...” Deacon’s face was joking, but I knew him well enough to see through the small facades. He was concerned. A small downturn of his mouth, his forehead scrunching. I couldn’t help myself. I pushed myself against his chest, trying to grab him with my clammy hands to stay steady. I was so happy he was ok. It was just one why was I so scared, did I really think he couldn’t handle one stupid mosquito? My grip tightened but the thought of the outcome being different made me weak in the knees. “Woah, woah ok, ok joking over, we’re uh just gonna sit on the ground now.” Deacon hissed, slowly lowering the both of us to the ground.   “What’s going on with you? Do you need... water? Food, did you eat today? Hey come on this isn’t funny you’re actually starting to break my cool facade.” I tried to speak, giving a little choked breath before managing to speak. “Bug... t...the bug.”  “Ok, ok  it’s dead, it’s literally on my heels ok? Trust me i’m a real good bug swatter, practically a professional.” He tried to joke, giving a little grin before realizing that I wasn’t in the joking mood.  He sighed after a few moments of pause,  taking his hand  and lightly patting my back. His touch was comforting, especially from him of all people. I knew he wasn’t the most touchy-feely of guys, so even this showed that he cared.  I thought he’d try to go on, try to say some other remark but he was silent, instead just letting the nothing fill the air. “I don’t like them.” “I... yeah I can tell” He muttered “I... watched them kill alot... of people. In my settlement. It was a swarm. I don’t know where they came from but they just... swarmed and alot of people died, only a few got out.” I whispered against him, not wanting to show my face. I was scared but also ashamed.  Bloodbugs were deadly, hell anything in the Commonwealth was a danger but of the possible things, it was some of the more tame things. I waited for him to speak but he was quiet, maybe thinking? Waiting for me to speak more? I decided to be the first speak. “I know it’s dumb. It was a weird... freak accident. I shouldn’t be as scared of them as I should be but I just... I keep seeing it. People being drained, blood everywhere, stabbing, the fucking gurgling. I can’t... I thought you were gonna...”  “Verdant Wash? You were from Verdant Wash, we had a safe house around there.” Deacon’s voice was soft as moved away, enough so I could look at him. “That... that shit was bad. I heard about it, an entire swarm of blood bugs on this little settlement. Like a plague. No you shouldn’t be sorry about being scared of that, that’s normal. I wouldn’t expect any normal person to just be able to see that and be ok.” He whispered, voice low. “But... it’s something to work on yeah. I promise you i’m not gonna go down like that. I’m way too stubborn, and got way too much blood. We work on the fear with you and me being a lying asshole, and we can just... back and forth. Bam, bam, bam, bam and we’ll be like... ten times awesome-er then before you got me?” I searched his face, smiling, confident. If it wasn’t Deacon being so cocky i’d yell at him. Scream that he didn’t know what it was like that it was just a joke to him but from the time i’d spent with him I knew he was being honest. Trying to cheer me up, trying to help in the only way he could, jokes and confidence. I glared at the ground, small bits of blood and bug littering the area. “Bam, bam, bam.” I repeated, taking my hands and slightly smacking the sides of his stubble head. His grin widened as he laid back dramatically on the ground before hopping up. “Not what I thought i’d get but i’ll accept it! Come on, I think we could split a steak from the bramin. You know, I might even give you the good half.” I grabbed his hand and pulled myself from the ground, and began to take my knife out for Deacon to see what he could salvage from the beast; but not before I let my grip tighten, giving him a non verbal thank you. I could tell by the way he cockily joked about slicing his hand with the knife while trying to grab it that he got what I meant.  It wasn’t alot, it didn’t need to be alot at times. The little comforts we gave each other when things got rough. Sometimes even the little we could give was enough to make it through the day. I knew he’d always try to be there for me, even if he did lie through his teeth most of his life. And he knew that i’d try to be there for him whenever he’d begin to open himself up more to me.

[gyeommark]

vagary . i

Chanyeol x Reader Genre: Angst. Fluff. Smut in future parts. Words: 4k A/N: New story alert. First chapters are always shorter to get the plot moving. Didn’t proof read, as usual: I apologize for any mistakes:( Hope you enjoy!

“Vagary (n.) An unpredictable instance, a wandering journey; a whimsical, wild or unusual idea, desire or action.”

Love hurts. They say. But pain is a choice.You chose to love and you also chose to hurt. You could’ve stopped at anytime, if you so desired; to not go through the torture, but you decided against it because going against the flow was rooted within you. You decided to endure the pain because you decided to love him for as long as possible, even when you knew it was doomed since before it even started. Chanyeol lured you in into his world. Chanyeol was your salvation and your ruin, altogether.

You could’ve used a heads up. That he would be the one to build you up so high only to make you lose consciousness on your way down. But no one did, of course, no one helped you unless it was too late to back out and you didn’t want to back out.

You didn’t plan to meet him and you were sure he didn’t plan it either, but somehow, you found yourselves in the other’s life.

The thing about being an artist –or an aspiring one, for the matter– was that you were either too crazy or too dumb. In your case, it was probably the two combined. What an awful mixture. But life was excited when you didn’t pay attention, when you went with the flow and let yourself go.

You could’ve used a heads up, that letting yourself go this much was probably going to get messy, then again, when did you ever hear what people had to say? When did you ever take people’s opinions into account?

Rarely. No, scratch that, you never did. But that was a good thing, right? To do whatever the hell made you happy?

Well, you still could’ve used a hint of a warning. Maybe, if it had existed, it would’ve remained hidden in the back of your head but no one did and you couldn’t blame them. No one really knew this would happen. There was no one to blame but yourself, and him, of course.

It was the two of you.

The moment everything started to go downhill was just another day in the office for you, not that you knew in advance, that it was going to be the beginning of a whirlwind taking over your life.

A full blown-out storm and you stood in the eye of the hurricane. The hurricane had his name.

You groaned, hearing how the alarm blasted all around your room. The light coming through the blinds was too bright and you wanted to throw something at it to make it stop… Not that it would help in the slightest, of course.

With more laziness than difficulty, you sat at the edge of your bed, stretching out every muscle that had been cramped up by you staying in bed for longer than usual. Baekhyun would definitely yell at you for being tardy again. Not that his scolding had that much of an effect in you.

Who said studying and working night shifts was an easy thing to do? Literally no one, no one ever dared saying that but you wanted to convince yourself that it wasn’t all that soul consuming.

“How many days on a row can you be late for me to start worrying about your sleeping habits?” Baekhyun half laughed, half complained, offering you a sip of his coffee, which you declined with a scrunched up nose. No caffeine with an empty stomach, you had learned that the hard way.

“It’s not a big deal, no one is ever on time, anyways”. You disregarded his comment as you started walking down the street next to him, earning a huff from your friend.

This routine you two had was something you were really grateful for.  Baekhyun made it less miserable around here, especially when you had to drag yourself out of bed everyday after going to sleep at four in the morning and had to endure most of your day with people who thought they were better than you at literally everything, for all you knew, they could even consider themselves better a breathing.

You weren’t fond of people at the Academy but Baekhyun was okay, he made it more than bearable to be there, setting aside the fact that you were trying to make a living out of the Arts, which was a pretty difficult task but you wouldn’t give up.

Giving up was for the weak and yeah, you might be weak at times, but you were too stubborn to admit that.

“Just a quick question though, how many times do I have to visit you at your job until you start giving me free drinks? You know, on the house because of being your best friend?” Baekhyun raised his eyebrows at you, a glimmer in his eyes, the glimmer that appeared every time he wanted to persuade you –or anyone, really– to do what he wanted.

“When you start paying for my rent, food, overall living expenses and the tuition, perhaps?” You smiled at him as you opened the heavy glass door.

“Buzzkill”. He scoffed, trailing closely behind you.

Days went by quicker and smoother when you shared lessons together. Baekhyun was like a painkiller in the form of a human being, an ibuprofen of sorts. You had always been quite bad with analogies but he was the remedy to your questionable mood, mostly in the mornings, and that’s why he was your best friend.

If you could’ve predicted that he had gotten you involved in the situation with him, though, you probably would’ve punched him or kicked him in the groin, at least. But it wasn’t his fault, either.

No one was aware, really. That should’ve been a red flag, right there; the fact that everything was well kept under the covers, so smoothly, so perfectly. You should’ve seen it coming, but you were blind.

The clinking of the glasses and the loud music, the bass making every single thing in the room to bounce rhythmically, everything was all too familiar for you now. You didn’t love it but you had grown used to it by now. Like that mosquito that keeps buzzing around your head late at night, it’s annoying but at one point it just became background noise. You either ignored it or went to sleep with it flying around.

Your job was the mosquito you couldn’t kill, of course. Not that you could kill an entire bar, it would be senseless.

The dim lightning and the dense air didn’t affect you anymore. The sweaty bodies, people slurring senseless words, none of that grossed you out anymore; you had learned to find the amusement on it all; you also had learned how to deal with unpleasant situations, hence the small pepper spray that you always carried around in either your back pocket or tucked somewhere in your bra.

You used to carry around a Taser until your boss scolded you for it and threatened to fire you if you continued to bring the ‘demonic device’, as he had called it, to work, because, according to him, it gave off the wrong image.

You had huffed as his statement that night. Of course he was against it, he had never been in your position; he had never been in a woman’s shoes before; he had never been harassed by some drunken, annoyingly persistent male until there was no choice but to scape or call the police. He had never been bothered by that and it showed.

But you caved because you couldn’t afford to be fired, because your parents were right when they told you you couldn’t make a living out of singing and painting, alone. You’d been too rebellious and immovable to listen to them before and now you still were too rebellious as to admit that they had been right all along.

“C’mon, what is a beautiful lade like you doing sitting here all by herself? I’d love to keep you company”. You heard a man’s slurry voice say from somewhere to your right, as you rested with your elbows over the counter.

You had to physically hold back the urge to vomit. You kept an eye on said man with your peripheral, clenching your fists a bit tighter every time he leaned in closer to a woman that was clearly too uncomfortable and who tried to decline him all-too-subtly for her own good.

You could tell she was new to this whole bar life. Too young to be on her own, unfortunately.

The man leaned in to the woman’s ear and you groaned with greeted teeth, standing up straight and trying to focus your contained rage to steady your voice and not blabber on your attempt to scare him off. Not that you looked that scary on the outside, you had to compensate with words and a strong stance, instead.

“Let me enforce my right to butt in into this situation. Lay off of her bud, unless you want me to knock you out”. You said, voice calm yet fists clenched tightly.

The disheveled man looked you up and down, sending shivers of disgust down your spine. You hated specimens like him.

“I have enough attention to give to the two of you, no need to be jealous, dear”. He laughed, almost choking on his own spit in the process. Gross, of course.

“Not really something I’d like. Now leave or I’ll make you leave”. You crooked an eyebrow at him, instinctively reaching for your pepper spray. It wasn’t legal of you to use it on him, of course, but at least it’d scare him off.

“And who are you to tell me what to do, huh? I paid to be here, drinking what you serve me, miss”. And not only was he a gross, harassing one but one with arrogance to share. Just great, just the way you liked them.

“Someone with enough authority in this place to not only get you kicked out but banned forever, now scatter, creep”. The man’s face hardened, letting the arm he had around the poor female fall to his side, tensing his jaw in an attempt to intimidate you.

The only effect he had on you was to be even more nauseous, though.

“You heard her. Get out”. An unexpected deep voice said from somewhere behind the scruffy man.

Your backup of sorts stood tall behind him, wearing a rather tight black t-shirt, arms sporting a couple tattoos, that popped-up even more when he crossed his arms over his chest, his shaggy dark hair covering half his forehead. You smirked.

The man, clearly threatened by the much taller individual, muttered something under his breath before trying to compose himself as he walked away, probably cursing you off. It happened more than you’d like.

The woman smiled at you and thanked you before standing up and disappearing in the crowd of people. You hoped she had gone off to find her friends; you wouldn’t like her to be alone anymore.

Quite the protector you were, looking out for women when no one really asked you to. You did it, not because it was your job, but because you knew how sick and disgusting it felt.

The tall man sat on the stool the woman had emptied just seconds before, resting his elbows on the counter as his eyes were glued to your face.

“What can I get you?” You asked him with raised eyebrows and a small smile once you had lost sight of the girl.

“Rum and coke?” He replied with the same deep voice. You shivered but nodded nonetheless and gave him his order right after, to which he nodded in gratitude.

“Must be interesting… To witness things like these every day. Isn’t it a bit too much to handle?” He asked after taking a few sips of his own drink and after you were done preparing a couple other drinks. You huffed.

“I don’t really work everyday, thank God, but yes… Anyhow, drunken men aren’t that difficult to decipher once you’ve been around them long enough. Their masculinity gets really shaky when a woman calls them out and threatens them”.

He laughed at your comment, even when the music was too loud for anyone to hear, you could tell he had quite the harmonious laugh, the kind that would make anyone fall to their knees and surrender, you could tell by the wrinkles that formed under his eyes.

“Psychology major?” He asked once you were back in front of him after washing a couple glasses. You scoffed.

“Not quite. Arts, actually”. You replied with a pursed smile. His lips formed a perfect round shape. You smiled and looked down at your feet as you shifted your weight onto the other leg. “Wouldn’t be working here if I was a psychology major, would I?” You cackled, it was sour, to admit your hardships –sort of– to a complete stranger.

It was okay, you were pretty sure you wouldn’t see him again.

“Touché”. He laughed again, igniting the sweat in the palms of your hands to run like an open faucet. You connected the reaction to the fact that it was pretty rare to find someone who you could have a decent conversation at a place like this, that was it. You hoped that was it but at the same time, you didn’t want it to be it.

“Then, I guess we’re just optimistic artist, hoping we can make it big while doing something we love”. Your stomach flipped, maybe it was just the remainders of the nausea being washed away by this man’s presence. Maybe that was it or maybe it was the enthusiastic idea that you had found someone who understood you, someone else other than Baekhyun.

“I guess so”. You smiled back at him but your smile dropped when he stood up and handed you a twenty-dollar bill. You hoped he didn’t notice and hoped he wouldn’t label you as the bartender who grew attached to him in the span of twenty minutes.

“I’ll see you around, then”. You wanted to ignore the numbness that appeared when your fingers touched, you wanted to ignore the reaction your body was having to this complete stranger that had, somehow, made your night way better than you had expected.

You just smiled at him, too scared to do or say anything else. Too anxious to give off the wrong impression. You were supposed to act cool and detached towards the customers, you were supposed to not let yourself feel instinctively attracted to any of them, yet there you were; following his figure through the crowd until he disappeared through the front door.

-

“Correct me if I’m wrong but I’ve heard you and my boy Chanyeol met?” Baekhyun spit out, one week after the ominous night. You had tried your best not to dwell on the memories of that day, tried to forget the stranger that had turned your boring, mundane night onto quite the memorable one, indeed.

You weren’t sure of the man’s name, you hadn’t asked and he didn’t mention but a part of you knew this mysterious, fallen from the heavens above, man was the same Chanyeol guy Baekhyun was talking about.

“Who?” You asked, baffled. The name didn’t ring any bells inside your head but Baekhyun’s raised eyebrow led you to believe it was a name you should be familiar with. You didn’t want him to be right but at the same time you did. How small could the world truly be?

“Chanyeol? Park Chanyeol? Tall dude, shaggy hair, a couple tattoos? Wears glasses to seem smart although he doesn’t really need them? Has quite the loose mouth and can be rather charming?” Baekhyun insisted, throwing his hoodie over his head as you walked side by side after your lessons were done for the day. The sun was setting behind you as the dwell inside your mind kept increasing its pace.

You pursed your lips, trying to confirm if the same someone you were thinking of would be the one who would fit that description. You were sure, yet you didn’t want to be. Your mind wandered off –once again– to that man from the other night, he who was trying to make conversation out of a rather unpleasant event. Dashing smile. You trembled. The world truly was a confined space.

“Guy that goes out to drink on a Tuesday night without putting any effort onto his outfit?” You snickered at your own comment, trying really hard to sound indifferent.

“That’s the one”. Baekhyun cackled, making you snort at his overreaction. “He mentioned he had met a, and I quote, ‘rather interesting, endearing young female bartender’. Could that possibly be you?” Baekhyun raised his eyebrows at you as you continued walking down the street to where you lived.

“Does your friend really talk like an old man?” You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the blush that was threatening to appear on both your cheeks and ears.

“Sometimes he can be a little… Over the top, when something or someone catches his eye… He’s a nice guy, you two would get along, I’m sure”. Baekhyun smiled at you as he followed you inside, ready to devour a packet of instant ramen, like he did almost every single day.

“Yeah, well…Truly nice guys don’t really exist”. You clicked your tongue as you unlocked the door to your small, humble abode.

“Hey!” Baekhyun half yelled, smacking your shoulder as you entered your apartment, kicked off your shoes and hung your bags on the hanger that was messily placed next to the front door. “I’m right here!” His voice was rising a couple octaves, making you laugh even harder.

“I said what I said, Byun”. You cackled, jogging to leave your offended friend behind as you started to prepare your obviously unhealthy dinner.

“Whatever, just don’t come at me with your tail between your legs when you realize you have fallen in love with him”. You scoffed. Baekhyun truly was optimistic.

You should’ve listened to Baekhyun’s half empty words at the time, of course, but you didn’t because you didn’t think they would be relevant. How wrong you were, of course. Was it humanly possible to have such a lack of common sense?

-

Yet another night came by and Baekhyun was sitting in front of you, blabbering about how this unimportant girl from the Academy always shut him down when he asked her out. Poor little thing, you thought, but you were glad. Baekhyun was too good for anyone there, anyways.

In the midst of Baekhyun’s sulking you saw him coming in again, walking as if the world was beneath him yet, at the same time, he was too timid to make eye contact with the people around him. He was a riddle and you didn’t want to get involved, yet, simultaneously, you felt yourself being pulled in his direction, the only things keeping you from doing so were the counter between you and the public and Baekhyun, of course, whose cheeks were starting to gain that rosy tint.

A friend, you kept repeating to yourself, he could be a friend. Baekhyun was a decent guy with decent judgment; his friends shouldn’t be bad either. But it was something about him. Just seeing him made you suppress a smile. You turned around in your heels as quick as you could without getting whiplash, trying to make it seem like you weren’t just staring, trying to seem distracted with the half empty bottles of liquor that laid under the counter.

You counted ten Mississippi’s, hoping he’d be gone, or that his attention had gone straight to Baekhyun. Maybe he had walked pass the bar and hadn’t noticed you staring, maybe he had dragged Baekhyun to get some fresh air. You hoped he had but at the same time you wanted to talk to him again. He seemed interesting enough.

“For how long can a bartender crouch behind the bar before the client gets exasperated and jumps over there?” You almost choked at the sound of his voice. You thought your encounter with him on the other night had meant nothing, you thought it would be just another passerby memory inside your head, but it was as if your mind had unwillingly memorized the sound of his voice; goosebumps erupting all over your skin when you heard it once more.

You shook your head and forced down a gulp before standing back up and eyeing him with a crooked eyebrow, trying to ignore Baekhyun smiling at you with squinted eyes.

“Until said annoying client points out the bartender’s whereabouts”.  You replied, pursing your lips onto a smirk. You didn’t want to smile at him, especially with Baekhyun there to witness everything, yet you couldn’t help yourself. “Has no one ever told you it’s rude to interrupt someone’s alone time?” You asked, teasingly as you poured him a glass of rum and coke, not bothering to ask what he wanted.

Was it too obvious? To memorize his previous drink? You groaned, hopefully he wouldn’t notice, hopefully he wouldn’t think you were being creepy.

He chuckled and you noticed, even when the flashing lights were going off behind him, that there was a dimple making its appearance on his cheek. What a contradiction of a human being, you thought, to seem so tough yet sweet and innocent at the same time.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re fun to talk to?” You huffed, looking down at his calloused hands as the grabbed the glass in front of him and twirled the liquid in a careless manner.

“You’d be surprised”.  You rolled your eyes before proceeding to prepare a line of shots for the group of women that were, most likely, celebrating a bachelorette party. You could feel Chanyeol’s eyes on you and it made you nervous, something you tried really hard to ignore as you attempted to finish off the pink-toned shots.

“I’m all for surprises”. Chanyeol commented after one waiter took the tray full of shots from your hands. His smile was enticing, like a gravitational force pulling you to him. You wanted to run away but at the same time you didn’t. Your mind was divided, you knew it was probably a bad idea but you couldn’t help the desire to explore the possibilities that came with Chanyeol.

“I’m still here, you know? Hello, Chanyeol, how are you? Have you met my friend yet?” Baekhyun basically barked, interrupting the eye contact you had going on with Chanyeol, hoping the pink neon lights that illuminated the bar would disguise the blush you could clearly feel all over your face.

Chanyeol laughed along with Baekhyun for quite some time after you had been ‘introduced’, as Baekhyun wanted to take credit for that, saying that it was nice to have friends in common now.

You watched from the sidelines, seeing how happy they were around the other, trying to ignore the flips your stomach was doing whenever Chanyeol laughed way too hard and tried to find your eyes across the bar.

A bad idea, yet it felt like waves of intoxicating possibilities. Funnily enough, to think of him as intoxicating when you had met at a bar, of all places.

This is how it started. You wished you would’ve been smarter; you wished you could’ve seen it coming; that loving him was going to be a tragedy. But your vision was too clouded with excitement and your heart was pounding so hard it muted every single hint of sound and movement around you.

It was him. This unforeseen effect, these reactions that your body had never really had before. Everything was because of him, because of his mere presence. An electric current flowing through your bloodstream. It was him.

It was Park Chanyeol. Although at first you didn’t know his name, at first he was just some strangely good-looking man you happened to lay your eyes upon. At first he was just some guy that granted you a smile from across the room, inducing angry electric shocks to originate at the pit of your stomach. It was chemistry, that’s what people said. The perfect reaction and balance between two people that at first didn’t know it but they complemented each other in both the good and bad.

There was a connection before an introduction, the most dangerous of all beginnings. The unpredictable yet thrilling. The expectation that someone like him could be a part of your life, that someone like him would resuscitate the parts of yourself you thought were long gone.

The desire that he could feel even an ounce of what you were feeling.

A rush, an exciting journey. Chanyeol was a mystery you wanted to unravel and you hoped he would be on board.

[villainscomplex]

the corner of first and amistad

i can’t believe it rlly took me getting neck deep into haikyuu to yeet my writers’ block smh

Also on:

AO3

FFnet

Quotev

Wattpad

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Ukai Keishin grows weary of the city.

He’s a country boy at heart, born and raised in a place where he can glance outside and see the stars anytime at night. The crickets sang to him when he jogged through the chilled night air, lungs cold and body warm.

Here, the cacophony of cars keeps him awake at night. People are only polite because they have to be. There’s nothing but the black sky above him, empty of the starlight he’d taken for granted as a kid.

When he’s twenty-two, he moves to the city to make a better life for himself. By the time he’s twenty-six, he’s just tired, in a bone-deep wary sort of way. He takes up smoking a year and a half in. It isn’t as if it’ll kill him any more than this place will, after all.

Sleep seldom comes easy. He turns in around ten every night, but without fail he’ll toss and turn until two or three. After that, he finally gives up and rises again. Sometimes, it’s easy to occupy his mind with the same two late-night television channels until he passes out or the sun comes up. Sometimes, he’s too restless.

Tonight is such a night.

His apartment is on the third floor of the complex. The rent is spiked high for such a dingy, busted place, but it’s barely in his pay range and he’s lived here for the past four years, so it’s home now whether he likes it or not.

Despite the time he’s been here, it hasn’t changed much. It’s the same ratty couch and low table that serves more as a catch-all than anything else. The carpets are stained with things he doesn’t care to question and the occasional bugs aren’t favorable, but at least he hasn’t seen any rats thus far. The appliances are liable to break and there’s been two break-ins at the complex since he’s lived here, but not at his apartment.

The window to the fire escape whines in protest as Keishin shoulders it open. It doesn’t have a particularly good view unless the viewer is fond of brick walls and dark alleyways, but Keishin doesn’t particularly care about his view. He shuffles out in his cotton pajama pants, no shirt, no shoes, bleached hair loose around his face, armed only with his lighter and a single cigarette.

It’s three a.m. and the city is still awake. The cold air bites at his face as he flicks his lighter several times without success, attempting to light his cigarette. Finally, it gives him a feeble enough flame to light the end, and he takes a long inhale. Distantly, he hears the sounds of the cars on the busy streets. There are sirens somewhere in the distance, high and wailing above the blinding lights and dark skies.

He exhales into the chilled air, watching the smoke curl into wisps and fade into the darkness.

Everything feels kind of muted, like he’s the only thing living in this moment, like the city is bearing down on him all at once, softly requesting his humanity in exchange for blinding lights and endless noise and eternal pleasures.

God, he misses the stars. He misses the serenity of the country, even with its mosquitoes and nosy people. It was so easy to forget the world there, in his quiet bubble of serenity.

He shifts from foot to foot in a half-hearted attempt to warm up, exhaling another breath of smoke from between his teeth. He considers, not for the first time, that this is a bad habit he needs to break, but it’s the only thing that never fails to ease him on nights like these.

Keishin snubs the last bit of his cigarette and turns to flick the butt off the railing and go inside, but scuffling sounds and muffled voices give him pause. He watches as two men, hoods flipped up over their heads, wrestle a third into the end of the alleyway. The third man is visibly afraid, even from this distance, short black hair ruffled, glasses askew, and clothes disheveled.

Probably a mugging. They happen commonly in the area. Keishin sighs. It really isn’t his concern, but he’s not a bad person at heart.

He raises his hand to his ear like he has a phone – not that they’ll be able to tell from where he is – and his voice. “Yes, officer? There are two men here attempting to rob someone,” he starts, watching out of his peripherals as the three men down below start, their heads whipping up.

He starts in on the address, but the two would-be robbers have already abandoned their mission and raced out of the alleyway, leaving the third man unceremoniously dumped on the cold concrete.

Keishin watches him stumble back to his feet, seemingly disoriented. He sways a little like he’s been drinking, and then adjusts his glasses and peers up at Keishin properly.

“Oi,” Keishin drawls, finally flicking his forgotten cigarette butt, “it ain’t safe to wander around these parts at this time of night. You stupid or somethin’?”

“I guess so,” the man replies, voice soft and grateful. “Thank you for helping me. I figured it’d be safer to walk intoxicated than drive, but I guess I should have just gotten a cab, huh?”

So he’d hit the nail on the head. Tipsy businessman, probably out drinking with equally irresponsible coworkers. Keishin has a nasty feeling this guy is a magnet for trouble. He looks too nice. With a quiet groan, he drops his head against the cold metal of the railing, debating -- not for the first time, as usual -- his life choices.

“Fuck’s sake,” he mutters to himself, and then, louder, to the man, “306. You’d better sober up before you get mugged again.”

He doesn’t even pause to wait for a reply, going back inside and shoving the window shut behind him. If the dude decides not to take him up on the offer, it isn’t Keishin’s problem. He’d tried and that’s all he can do.

Suffice to say, he isn’t actually expecting the soft, hesitant knock a few minutes later.

Keishin opens the door and fixes the man with a scrutinizing look. “I was right,” he decides, “you are too trusting. What if I tried to kill you or somethin’, huh?”

Up close, the man is visibly shorter than him and narrow, all messy black hair and wide, brown eyes. His face is scuffed, undoubtedly from the earlier alteration, and tinged red, which Keishin assumes is from drinking.

The man blinks back at him, confused and a little scared. “...You’re not going to murder me, right?”

Keishin snorts and steps out of the way to let him come in. “‘Course not. Murder aftermath sounds like a pain in the ass to handle.”

The man seems a little hesitant, but he shuffles in, nonetheless, and promptly bows at the waist. Keishin jumps.

“Thank you for helping me even though we’re complete strangers!”

Keishin grimaces. “It’s not a big deal,” he says, reaching past the man to shut the door, “you don’t gotta bow or nothin’. Any properly raised person woulda done the same.”

The dark-haired man straightens up slowly, frowning. “Most people here would have turned the other way, I think.”

Maybe so, Keishin thinks, offering out a hand. “Name’s Ukai. Ukai Keishin.”

The man smiles, gentle and warm, taking it. “I’m Takeda Ittetsu.”

After the initial introduction, Takeda settles in on the couch with a cup of water while Keishin starts some tea and puts on a proper shirt. It doesn’t really matter too much anymore since their first meeting isn’t really all that orthodox to begin with, but Keishin has nothing if not some manners.

Takeda seems to be sobering up more or less, but he’s clearly still tipsy enough that he’s a danger to himself on the city streets at this hour. Maybe it’s just Keishin wanting the company, but he thinks Takeda doesn’t seem like he’s in any haste to leave regardless.

They talk some over tea. Takeda tells him he’s a teacher – no, he laughs, when Keishin brings it up, I’m not a businessman in that sense – and he teaches high school literature. He seems all too happy to talk about the antics his students get into.

For the first time in a while, Keishin forgets about the city.

When he wakes in the morning, draped awkwardly on one end of the couch with a blanket over him, Takeda is gone. There’s a note on top of the TV, where Keishin luckily sees it quickly.

It’s a hastily scribbled thank you and goodbye.

Keishin crumbles it up and throws it away, stepping out for another cigarette.

Things return to what Keishin has come to call normal. He doesn’t think about Takeda Ittetsu or the brief warmth that had come into his shitty apartment the moment the teacher had crossed the threshold. He works, he comes home, and repeat. Occasionally, he goes to the gym. Generally, sleep evades him.

“Keishin,” his mom says over the phone, days later, her voice hardly audible over the bustle of people on the sidewalk, “you’re twenty-six already. Haven’t you found a nice girl yet? You’ll be thirty before you know it and then it’ll be much harder for you!”

He’s watching the traffic light impatiently, waiting for it to change so he can cross. The walk sign on the opposite end seems to be taking its sweet time, though. Keishin just wants an excuse to get off the phone.

“Ma,” he sighs, “I already told you, it’ll happen when it happens. I don’t have time for a relationship right now, anyway.”

It’s the easiest thing to tell himself. The light finally signals for them to walk, and Keishin hurries across the street with the rest of the crowd. A man jars him from the side and he nearly drops his phone. Instinctively, he checks his pockets and-- Sure enough, his wallet is gone.

“Ma, I gotta go,” he grumbles, hanging up as he shoves through the people after the man. God, he’s not in the mood for this today.

The man breaks into a run the moment he realizes he’s being pursued and Keishin races after him. His wallet is the last thing he can afford to lose, and of course the one day he forgot his chain is the day he gets pickpocketed.

“Oi!” He shouts, irritated and exhausted, shouldering through people. At this rate he’ll get--

He watches the guy suddenly eat shit, feet coming right out from him.

--away.

Huh. Keishin slows to a stop and yanks the guy up by his collar, snatching his wallet back with a snarl. The man has a bloody nose from hitting the concrete so hard, and Keishin can’t help the little sting of pleasure from the karma.

“Oh, no,” says another voice from behind him, “I didn’t mean to make him hurt himself! I just meant for him to trip up a little, but he was going so fast-”

Keishin turns around. Takeda Ittetsu stands behind him, looking distressed out of his mind and suspiciously like he’s close to panicking. Keishin puts the pieces together. Takeda’s presence, the man abruptly wiping out.

“Did you… trip him?” He asks slowly.

Takeda straightens up when he’s addressed, gaze darting to Keishin’s, and then away again. “I, um. I saw you chasing him a-and he reminded me of those two from that night I almost got mugged and I just… reacted?”

Keishin drops the man in favor of howling with laughter. He barely even notices when the almost thief scrambles away. “Damn!” He laughs, slapping Takeda on the back so hard that the man stumbles and his glasses slide halfway down his nose. “I didn’t know you had it in ya, sensei!”

Takeda fixes his glasses, glancing up at Keishin. “Neither did I.”

He finds out Takeda had been waiting for a taxi to head home. He’s got a bag full of books over his shoulder. Keishin’s admittedly a little surprised – in a place like this, running into someone twice by coincidence isn’t a very easy feat. He hadn’t thought for a second he’d meet Takeda again.

“I was on my way to get groceries,” Keishin tells him, “so it woulda been a pain in the ass to lose my wallet. Normally, I have a chain for it, but I completely forgot to attach my new one after my old one broke.”

“Oh,” Takeda’s eyebrows rise, “that’s a really good idea. I didn’t think about a chain.”

“Can ya even wear one as a teacher?”

Takeda considers this. “No,” he finally admits, “probably not.”

“You’re doomed,” Keishin remarks, patting the other man’s shoulder. “In any case, thanks for your help with that. I’d better be off.”

“Oh, wait!” Takeda scrambles after him. “Let me thank you properly for the other night.”

“Huh? I think you’ve definitely repaid me plenty just now.”

“At least let me treat you to drinks or something,” Takeda persists.

Keishin gets the feeling this guy is a very, very stubborn person. He frowns a little at the determined furrow between Takeda’s wide eyes and the little, persistent downward curl of his mouth.

In hindsight, this is the exact moment Ukai Keishin could have pegged himself as screwed.

“Fine,” he sighs, “but not alcohol. I’ve seen firsthand how you handle that. Coffee or somethin’ is fine.”

Takeda visibly brightens. “Great! When works for you? I don’t have any other plans today, and tomorrow is Sunday so I’m off too, but during the week I’m not done until about three if I'm lucky…”

Keishin considers the fact that this sounds suspiciously like a date, but ah, what does he know? He hasn’t been on a date since he was twenty. Besides, he barely knows this guy.

“We can go now,” he replies, deciding it’d be best to get it out of the way immediately, “I can do my grocery shopping later.”

Takeda takes him to a small cafe near the local dog park. It’s a little more out of the way, and Takeda offers to pay for a cab, but ultimately they end up walking there. Takeda is naturally a slow person, but he tries to speed up and Keishin tries to find a middle ground for them.

It’s only a little successful.

“Yeah, unfortunately,” Keishin says as they arrive, opening the door, “I’ve been working at the same convenience store since I moved here four years ago. It’s not the worst. I work at this hole-in-the-wall flower shop, too.”

The bell overhead jingles to announce their arrival. One of the employees calls out a greeting as the two men join the short line. Keishin eyes the menu.

“Well, that just means you’re committed, doesn’t it?” Takeda asks. “I didn’t take you as the flower type. Do you enjoy it?”

Keishin assumes that’s short for you look like a thug, but he takes it in stride. It's not the first time someone had that impression of him. He shrugs noncommittally at the question. He does enjoy gardening, but doing any enjoyable thing for money tends to suck the joy out of it, so he’s not really sure how to answer that. Besides, they’re at the front of the line.

“Get whatever you want!” Takeda tells him.

Keishin ends up getting a medium coffee, nearly black, and dumplings. The dumplings are surprisingly good – a compliment coming from someone as picky as him – and Takeda looks a little terrified at the idea of his nearly black coffee, having gotten a disastrous, caramel loaded abomination himself.

They don’t stay, but they don’t go their separate ways. The dog park is only a little busy, so they sit on a bench nearby, watching some of the dogs playing around. Keishin likes dogs, but he definitely doesn’t have time for those, either. He’d hate to get one and have it on its own most of the time.

“I love dogs,” Takeda voices his thoughts, “but my apartment complex doesn’t allow them.”

“Mine does,” Keishin says, taking a drink of his coffee, “but I don’t really have time or the means to take care of one right now.”

His phone rings again in his pocket. Takeda glances sideways at him as he fishes it out and glances at the caller ID. It’s his mother, probably annoyed after he’d hung up on her earlier. Keishin doesn’t want to deal with it right now, so he ignores the call and mutes his phone.

“You aren’t going to answer it?” Takeda asks tentatively.

“Nah,” Keishin shakes his head, “it’s my ma. She’s just harassing me about my love life, s’all. I ain’t even thirty and she’s tryin’ real hard to make me get married as soon as possible.”

Takeda pauses. “How old are you?”

Keishin grins sideways at him. “Awfully forward, ain’t you?” He asks, and when Takeda looks apologetic, he continues, “I’m kidding. I’m twenty-six.”

Takeda pauses, drink to his lips. “Wait,” he says, “you’re younger than me?”

Keishin’s eyebrows rise. “How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-nine,” Takeda says.

Keishin snorts, nearly chokes, and then doubles over laughing. “Damn, really? I thought you were my age or a little younger! I guess it makes sense with you bein’ a teacher and all, but you definitely don’t look like you’re almost thirty.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult,” Takeda admits.

“I wonder,” Keishin remarks, downing his coffee.

They watch the dogs a while longer, but inevitably, Keishin needs to leave. He has to get his shopping done, get home, and go to his night shift at the store. Takeda looks as though he wants to say something more, but ultimately, they say their goodbyes and go their own ways.

Keishin puts Takeda Ittetsu in the back of his mind again, convinced that he’ll more than likely never run into the man again.

Fate has a funny way of proving him wrong, he supposes.

He takes Takeda for a rational person, but this time might just prove him wrong. Keishin stares down at the unsteady dark-haired man, frowning. He’s not sure why Takeda ended up here again, drunk again, but here he is, dressed down in a blue sweater and missing his glasses at eleven at night. He squints back at Keishin, smiling a little lopsidedly.

“Why are you here?” Keishin finally asks.

Takeda beams. “We’re friends! I wanted to see you! Also, I think my coworker has my house keys,” he slurs.

On god, this man was going to be the death of him. Keishin sighs, but he moves out of the way to let Takeda stumble in and shuts the door behind him. He doesn’t bother with a shirt this time.

“Please don’t throw up on my carpet. There’s too many weird stains as is.”

Takeda hears him, he assumes, watching as the teacher locates the bathroom very rapidly on his hands and knees. Keishin starts some tea again. When Takeda returns, he drops down on the couch and burrows underneath the blanket that had been abandoned there, groaning softly.

“M’sorry,” he mumbles, when Keishin nudges him to hand over the tea.

Keishin watches his head resurface from beneath the blanket, still squinting and hair even messier. He isn’t sure how Takeda is this bad at holding his alcohol, or why he keeps doing it despite knowing he’s bad, but Keishin isn’t really one to judge. Besides, he’s still thinking about the whole we’re friends thing Takeda had dropped on him at the door.

Are they friends? He doesn’t want to dwell on that too long.

“It’s fine,” he waves it off. “Drink that and get some rest. You can worry about everything else in the morning.”

He rises from his crouch and crosses to the kitchen to clean up some. Takeda only finishes half the tea before he’s out cold on the couch. Keishin fixes the blanket over him and shuts the lights off, locks the door, and retires to his room.

Sleep evades him.

He spends the first hour staring at the ceiling. When this grows painfully boring, he rolls over to check his phone. TV isn’t an option tonight with Takeda sleeping in the living room, but clearly he isn’t going to be getting much sleep tonight himself. At two, he finally caves and rolls back out of bed.

Keishin slinks quietly into the living room and grabs his new lighter and box of cigarettes off the table, creeping to the window and carefully shuffling it open. Mercifully, it doesn’t squeal this time.

Keishin slides out onto the fire escape, sitting on the outside windowsill so he can listen if Takeda wakes. His new lighter produces a flame immediately, and Keishin lights a cigarette, putting it to his lips. The sting of smoke is familiar, as disgusting as it is. Really, he needs to stop depending on this habit.

There are sirens somewhere in the distance again.

“Ukai?” Takeda’s groggy voice floats from inside the apartment.

“Did I wake ya?” Keishin asks, glancing back.

“No,” Takeda blinks back at him from the couch, squinting to see. “Why are you awake?” “I couldn’t sleep.”

Keishin exhales another breath of smoke and Takeda wrinkles his nose.

“That’s a bad habit,” he says softly. “Do you do this often? Come to think of it… It was the same situation when we met, wasn’t it?”

Yes, Keishin thinks, but he doesn’t reply out loud. Things have changed since then. Not just for him in particular, but for both of them as a whole. Back then, Takeda had just been a complete stranger that Keishin had saved out of the goodness of his upbringing, if not his heart. He takes another drag and exhales into the chilled night air. Goosebumps prickle over his exposed torso.

He can feel Takeda’s gaze on his back.

“Oi, sensei,” he says into the air, “you’re a good person. Stay that way, yeah? You gotta be careful 'round here. City like this'll eat your humanity.”

“Ukai,” Takeda asks softly. “Why do you make yourself suffer like this? You’re a good person, too.”

Keishin takes a long drag of his cigarette. For a moment, he considers not answering. It would make it easier. He could just finish his cigarette and go to sleep. Takeda probably isn’t going to remember any of this in the morning anyway.

But he finally exhales.

“I stopped focusing on what made me happy,” he breathes, “it makes life a lot easier.”

He almost misses Takeda’s whisper.

“Not from where I stand.”

Keishin leans back on his hands, cigarette in between his lips and gaze fixed on the starless sky. It's lonely.

“...Go to sleep, Takeda.”

In the morning, there’s another hastily scribbled note. Ukai, it reads, I’m so sorry about my state last night. Thank you again for letting me stay.

There’s a phone number at the bottom in lieu of a signature. Keishin plugs it into his contacts.

Somehow, slowly, Takeda Ittetsu slowly becomes a cornerstone of Keishin’s life. They see each other frequently and text even more. Keishin gets scolded about his phone more than once at work and he feels like he’s a teenager again. Takeda visits often and somehow makes a home in Keishin’s shitty little place, and sometimes Keishin goes to his own cramped apartment, simple and flower-filled and very much Takeda.

But somehow, Takeda ends up back at Keishin’s house every time he goes drinking without fail.

It occurs to Keishin, one night, when a half sober Takeda is slung over the arm of his ratty couch, hunched over a trash can, that Keishin isn’t so tired of the city anymore. He misses home certainly, but in the near year he’s known Takeda now, he’s become more at ease. It’s easier to breathe now.

“Oi,” he knocks a glass of water lightly against Takeda’s head.

Takeda looks up, glasses disheveled, hair messy, and eyes glazed over. He’s in various states of disarray, but even under the dim lighting of the apartment, there’s something so brilliant about him that Keishin thinks he might be a little in love.

Takeda shifts to sit a little more upright and curls his fingers around the cup of water, but Keishin doesn’t quite let go. Takeda squints at their overlapped hands.

“You don’t work weekends,” Keishin states more than asks, “so come back home with me this weekend.”

Takeda frowns unsteadily. “But we are at your house.”

Keishin releases the cup. “No,” he says, “home. Back in the country.”

“Oh,” says Takeda, but then he puts the cup to his lips and doesn’t reply.

Keishin wakes in the morning to Takeda sitting on the kitchen counter, a cup of hot tea in his hands and a pensive expression resting on his features. He’s a little surprised because even now, Takeda is usually gone by the time he gets up, having left a note or a text. He’s still in some sort of state of disarray, though he looks as though he’d made an attempt to clean up.

“Morning,” Keishin greets, bending to dig through the refrigerator.

“Good morning,” Takeda replies absently, frowns, and then continues, “Ukai, did you mean what you said yesterday?”

Keishin glances up in confusion. “'Bout what?”

“Me- Me coming back… home with you?” He won’t meet Keishin’s eyes.

“Ah, I didn’t think you’d remember that,” Keishin admits. “I guess. It was kind of a spur of the moment thing, so you don’t gotta worry about it if you don’t wanna. Figured it might be nice to have a break, s’all.”

“Okay.”

“Huh?”

“Okay,” Takeda repeats, pushing his glasses up his nose, “I’ll come.”

Keishin grins crookedly. “Okay.”

So they go.

Keishin had already taken the weekend off, having planned to go home this weekend anyway. Sometimes, a break is just a good change of pace, even if he's finally gotten himself in a good state of mind in the city. They leave in the late afternoon, after Takeda is finished at the school, and head straight to the train for the long ride ahead.

It’s dark by the time they arrive, and Takeda is out cold, leaning heavily against Keishin. He nudges the other man awake and guides him out of the train. Takeda’s awake the moment the cold air hits his face. It’s even colder here than in the city since it’s further north, but it’s more open for the wind as well.

“Wow,” Takeda breathes, and for a moment, Keishin isn’t sure what he’s talking about.

He follows Takeda’s gaze up and his breath steals away in a manner that he’d nearly forgotten. The stars blanket the sky above them, brilliant little pinpricks of light across the expanse of swirling darkness, flickering and blinking down at the earth. The more rational part of him knows they’re nothing impressive, nothing more than massive balls of gas billions of miles away from them, but it does nothing to diminish the fact that he’s desperately missed the sight of them.

“I’ve seen stars in theory,” Takeda says, “but I’ve lived in cities my whole life. I’ve never… seen them in person.”

Keishin smiles. “Trust me, it’s not a sight you’ll ever get tired of.”

Takeda gazes at him then, and Keishin isn’t sure what he sees in the other man’s eyes.

He apologizes in advance, later, for his parents. His mother is, as expected, overbearing, but nonetheless excited that Keishin has a friend to bring home. She gives him a curious little sidelong look that he pointedly ignores.

They crash as soon as they hit the pillows. Saturday blows by in a whirlwind of meeting up with old friends and getting back to old hobbies. Keishin remembers the stings of a volleyball on his hands as surely as he’d been in high school. Setting is still second nature. Takeda watches from the sidelines, eyes wide and attention rapt, and if Keishin shows off a little for his sake, nobody says anything about it.

“There’s one more place,” Keishin says, as the sun dips below the horizon later that evening, “I always went there as a teen. It should still be fine, I think.”

It’s just nearing the end of the autumn, in any case, so he thinks it should still be around. The weather is getting colder every day. Keishin absently drapes one of his two scarves around Takeda’s shoulders and takes the lead into the back parts of town where he’d run wild as a boy.

They crest a hill, breath forming white clouds in the chilled night air, and sure enough, red cloaks the tree-dotted area on the other side. Spider-lilies. Takeda gasps at the crest, gazing down in awe even as Keishin carries on, picking his way towards the central cove.

“I loved it here in high school,” Keishin admits, “I got into gardening for a while over it, but that ain't easy in the city, so it kinda fell to the wayside.”

"Is that why you work at the flower shop?" Takeda asks.

Keishin hums noncommittally. "Maybe."

He drops rather unceremoniously into a slightly emptier patch and lays on his back, staring at the sky. Takeda carefully sits beside him, tucking his knees up for warmth. The ground beneath them is cold, and Keishin knows the flowers won’t be alive for much longer.

“I always came here to stargaze. I’d sit for hours. It was kinda a safe haven, I guess.”

He looks to Takeda, expecting him to be looking at the sky, but to his surprise, the man’s dark eyes are fixed on him, glittering in the darkness like they’re reflecting the starlight itself. Keishin’s heart does a funny little thing in his chest, something he’s started to become comfortable with associating with Takeda.

“Ukai,” Takeda says, voice soft, as if he’s afraid of being heard, lips parted and one hand raised like he’s going to reach out.

“Aw, man,” Keishin tells him, “don’t look at me like that. I don’t know if I can stop myself, then.”

“Then don’t,” Takeda whispers, leaning in to meet Keishin’s mouth halfway.

His mother gives him another knowing look when he smiles privately at Takeda the next morning, but he pretends, once again, not to notice.

--

“In hindsight,” Keishin tells him, years later, when they’re thirty-two and thirty-five, living together with two dogs, five years into their relationship and counting, “I think you started a lot of the changes in my life that I ended up desperately needing.”

Ittetsu laughs as he rolls over, tucking his arm around Keishin’s waist. “You should learn to listen to your elders better!”

Keishin snorts. “I don’t have to take shit from a cradle robber like you.”

“Cra-?!”

Ittetsu sputters indignantly, and Keishin howls with laughter. Five years ago, he’d nearly forgotten what it felt like to laugh so freely.

Nowadays, he can’t even imagine living how he had before. Maybe when autumn comes around again, he’ll take Ittetsu back to the spider-lily field. Maybe he’ll buy a ring this time.

“I think I should save pretty teachers from getting mugged in alleys more often, don’t you?”

[kurtty-drabbles]

Scooby au (Blade)

N/A: Yeah, Blade is here. Jubilee is about to have a bad day.

@djinmer4 @dannybagpipesarecalling @sailorstar9 @discordsworld @look-ma-no-hands336

Blade is a hunter of vampires and a vampire himself, a combination that does not render him many favours in this world. One day, Blade meets young Ororo Monroe and sense that this kid, at time, will be something else and had her number, now, Blade hates older man hitting on young girls and hate Twilight with a passion, so, when he gives his phone was a professional manoeuvre as Ororo did defeat one vampire and Blade can guess the girl will face more vampires in her life.

When Blade´s cellphone rings, smash mouth I´m a Believer, aside from earning a few giggles, it also prompts Blade to answer and get proven correct as Storm, from the X-men asked him a favour, turns out, the X-men are dealing with an ancient vampire and Blade can only pray for the safety of the students.

“Guys, buck up, we´re going to Bayville” Blade answers in a cool fashion, meanwhile, Deadpool raises his hand and speak freely. “Ah, the author remembers me, thanking aside the great mete joke, you can´t just say for us to back up and not give details, life is not a movie”

Blade sighs and adds more details. “Got it, ancient vampire, do they sparkle?”

“Wade, O swear to god, if you don´t stop with those jokes,  you will get your mouth shut” Blade threats and Wade can only answer “Dude, don´t be like Wolverine the origins, don´t be like that”

Scott Summers is looking in the huge crowd of people for one person in specific, and this time, is not Jean Grey, and when his eyes spot Kurt Wagner walking in a relaxed form, Scott finally found his target, without waiting for a proper reply, Scott put an arm on Kurt´s should and is rewards by having his attention.

(Is odd, Scott feels eyes on him, but, no one in the crown is looking at him)

“Kurt, if you have plans for tonight, you got to cancel, cause we´re dealing with an emergency and we need your help” Scott speaks as a leader and Kurt is watching him, blinking in confusion and smirking(again, the eyes are still present)

“Ok, captain, lead the way” Kurt speaks with a kind heart, yet, Scott is uneasy. The eyes are still on Scott and he knows…Jean is not here.

“Kurt, I need you and the rest of the team to be aware of the situation and you, Kurt, need to be strong on this one, ok?” Scott speaks hoping to sound convincing. Sam is the only one who is not pleased with Kurt´s presence here.

Spike, Tabbitha, Bobby, the new mutants, Rogue, Kurt and Scott are in an open space, and, Kurt notices that Jubilee, Jean and Kitty aren´t present and Scott explains why. “Look, I know everyone here does not believe in the supernatural, much less in gods or vampires, but…Jubilee is one and Jean is not something human and I suspect Kitty may be a vampire too or something else”

Kurt chuckles amused hiding his smirk with his hand, of course, the others didn´t believe until Scott give proofs. Rouge, once taking the collar she often wears show the marks, while insisting is just mosquito´s bites.

“Rogue, a mosquito´s bite that resembles teeth? Jubilee is a vampire and to top of all, an ancient one” Scott concludes and the New Mutants explain the situation to Rogue who is in disbelief state, until, realization sink in.

Kurt watches as Sam is avoiding looking at Kurt. “And you think my girlfriend is a vampire?” Kurt asked a little offended, really, comparing Kitty to a fairy Kurt can understand (one of her masks is very fae alike) now a vampire? That´s new.

Scott, noticing how the others don´t want to talk with Kurt about how strange Kitty can be, and a presence of a vampire, and whatever Jean is (“A god relate to fire” “gee, Scott, now is not the time to gush over your crush”) this enhance Kitty´s oddities to 100% and people aren´t sure if she´s human.

“Kurt, she speaks about a Dark Pharaoh with such fondness…I can guarantee the people who spoke about him…aren´t good” Scott replied and Kurt narrows his eyes bemused. “But, we don´t have any proof, maybe, Kitty is human and Jean and Jubilee are using her, what I´m trying to say is…we don´t know what Kitty is and she may be in danger…you as her boyfriend may know and deserve to know what will happen”

Kurt crosses his arms, and Sam as well the other New Mutants, swear this is similar to a pharaoh, or maybe, his presence is making them thinking in one. “And what will happen?”

“We call a great vampire hunter to kill Jubilee, we call Blade”

Jubilee could feel a telltale in the air. Kitty as well and Jean too. Something different is about to happen and Kitty knows and is ready, hardly, anything a mortal can think or conjure will impress Kitty(well, she really like that book and podcast about Galaxy hitcher series way more than that loser of Lovecraft)

“Something is coming….towards you, Jubilee” Kitty warned to the ancient vampire. Jubilee, then, asks one thing “how can you know? You know nothing about humans, but, you know anything else”

Kitty points at Jean bored “Let´s say I´m her boss” and Jean is peeved but does not refute the explanation.

Blade and his crew shows with his guns shooting at Jubilee, the bullets, of course, are made from a rare and special item that can kill vampires, Jubilee as an ancient vampire does not die from the bullet, but, it hurt.

“Ouch!” Jubilee replied attempting to mask the pain with humour and Jean is healing the vampire much to Blade´s confusion. In a solid minute, Jubilee is back at her feet as if nothing happens. “Not cool, little boy, not cool.”

Kitty is only looking at Blade. “Storm called you, Jubilee they found out you´re an ancient vampire” Kitty announced and Jubilee only give a loud duh. Her fangs are ready and as her eyes are red, the woman is not fond of being shot.

Wade jump from the glass and is about to shoot, except, he noticed the vampire´s form and hesitated and this makes him get the throw to the wall. Jean is bemused, some humans are strange and others are stupid.

“Go away, I´m not in the mood to fight” Jean speaks and Kitty yawns as Blade uses his swords to fight Jubilee, however, ancient vampires are far more powerful than regular ones and his blade did little to damage her.

“Humans!” Jean speaks and Kitty nods. Wade is confused as never in his life a vampire shows up as a normal teenager.

“Oh no, the author put me in a moral dilemma! Curse you author!” Wade curses at the wind and Jubilee manages to defeat Blade easily as well shaming him for shot first, talk later. His sword was a break and Jubilee is lecturing Blade as he´s a little boy. “Did no one ever tell you it was rude to shoot like that? Now, listen here, Blade and friend” Her blood eyes are also focused on Wade as they are listening, in a total trance, as the ancient vampire is giving orders. “I´d not want to kill you, Blade, there are many bad vampires out there, however, today you and your team aren´t here…and you, friend,” Jubilee looks at Wade who robotically gives his name making Jubilee blinks surprised “you also aren´t here, in fact, there´s no mission. Go home”

Jean clear her throat and speak about the cellphone. “Don´t forget the cellphone…humans love to track cellphones”

Kitty, to everyone(Jean and Jubilee), surprised did erase the contact and the phone call easily. She may not get humans but she understands their technology. She hopes Storm won´t be too mad, but, Kitty does not want to Jubilee to die nor deal with more vampire hunters.

Then, Blade and Deadpool are leaving realizing there´s no mission today and can use some time off.

“Ok, is the time of the truth, Kitty, who are you?” Jubilee asked confused.

“Zaorva, she´s Phoenix and Kurt is IT” Kitty laughs remembering the movie IT and how, ironically, Kurt does not like clowns.

“Well, isn´t that something?” Jean answer a bit amused, then adds “what we´ll do next?”

“Well, let´s see what the Black Pharaoh is planning, the charade has to end eventually” Kitty speaks calmly and Jubilee nods, after all, humans get old so quickly. Such a fragile life.

[jj-ktae]

Game Two : Sharing

Title : Survival Games

Genre : AU, Angst, Fluff, Romance Pairing : Taeyong x You (reader)

Summary : A deserted island and no hope left. There is only despair and this boy, Lee Taeyong, who seems to be the only survivor. You both were on the flight KAL134, from Auckland to Seoul.

- Teaser - Discovering - 

__

Game Two : Sharing

Out of all the things you hate on this island, the worst are mosquitos. They attack and never rest, leaving your skin with tiny red dots like you caught chickenpox. You try not to scratch too much, but during the night it seems you don’t care anymore, your sleepy hands attacking you restlessly until you almost bleed.

You feel disgusting. The sun shines and makes the weather hot during the day, but the temperature drops during the night, leaving you a shivering mess on the ground. Your hair is so dirty they stick to each other with no problem. You casually put them into a tight bun, and not a strand falls off, too thick with dust and other things you don’t want to identify.

Taeyong seems to have no problem with his condition. He walks around and discovers the jungle like he lived in such environment all his life. You feel a bit jealous, somehow.

“It’s not like I’m complaining, but I would love to have a shower, now.” You both walked so much into the jungle that you don’t even know where the seaside is anymore. You try not to say this type of things too often though, aware that it might disturb Taeyong’s peace. He started talking more, but that doesn’t mean he is friendly yet.

He doesn’t even answer, and you understand he didn’t even hear you as he walks faster into the jungle. 

You still have no idea why you’re following him. 

You tighten your sweatshirt around your hips, trying to follow his crazy pace. He is going to kill you faster than this place.

Ever since that night, Taeyong’s behaviour changed. You wouldn’t say it changed drastically, but Taeyong is bit more friendly and speaks with ease now, and it makes this whole crazy situation just a little bit more bearable. 

He talks about his friends often, and it’s always during the night, when the only light comes from a fire he never fails to make. You wonder about that but refuse to ask, not comfortable enough to talk about his personal life yet. He doesn’t mention it either, like it’s normal to lit a fire in the middle of a jungle. 

Not that you’re complaining. You get food, let it be fruits or dead animals. Taeyong always assures you that it’s eatable, that you won’t get sick and you follow him, even when he grabs insects because it’s ‘full of proteins’. You do everything he tells you to do without questioning anything.

His seriousness and concentration level were able to fill you with a trust you usually don’t give that easily. It’s fine though, you are alive and breathing and hydrated and it’s all thanks to him. 

“Look.” Your thoughts vanish as soon as your eyes meet with something you never thought you’d find.

It’s a waterfall. It’s not huge like the ones in movies, but the water is deep blue and the sound it creates puts your mind at ease in a matter of seconds.

“Did you talk about showering?” He turns around and lets his wooden stick rest on his shoulder. 

It’s the first time you see him smile.

“Yes. YES.” You almost run to the water but stop when you look at the tiny river surrounding the waterfall. “Wait, maybe...maybe there are dangerous things in there.” You scrutinize the river’s bottom, trying hard to find any potential threat.

“Hmm?” Taeyong approaches you and looks at the water before shrugging. “Let me check.” He takes off his zipped sweater and steps into the water, sighing when the cold water hits his clothes.

“Forget it.” You grab his arm before he can dip further and he loses his balance. “You don’t know, what if it’s filled with crocodiles? Or...other dangerous stuff.” You’re not being rational, but you can’t have him risk his life for a shower. It’s okay, what is dirt anyways?

But Taeyong laughs, and it makes a foreign sound to your ears. “It’s a tiny river with a waterfall. If it was this dangerous I’d have no leg already.” You hate the way he mocks you but you can’t say he is wrong. 

Maybe you’re freaking out for nothing.

You think for a minute, but Taeyong dips into the water, going out further and shaking his head. “I’m still alive!” he yells from a distance and you snort, annoyed.

“Fine! I’ll go in!” You make a face and take off your sweatshirt before entering slowly and gasping at the cold water. How did he even enter this without yelling?

Your body doesn’t take long to get accustomed to the feeling and when you can finally swim, you see a thread of dirt floating away from your body. 

It’s happiness. You feel a thousand times lighter as your limbs float. You let your hair fall and dip your head into the water, scratching your skull at full speed. It’s relaxing, even more with the sound of the waterfall and the peaceful fanfare of the jungle, which usually makes you go mad with frustration. Taeyong is somewhere behind you but you don’t even try to find him, focusing on your now resting body. The water carries you with such ease it’s pure bliss.

You almost forget about the situation. It wakes countless feelings, from serenity to exhaustion and your head almost spins with what you thought was long gone. The jungle disappears and it’s like you’re being swallowed into the void. It’s empty and full at the same time, waking and numbing your limbs in a mixture of bliss and overwork. 

You forget to breathe for a moment, the lack of sleep suddenly hitting you like a truck and you feel so heavy you could have drowned in an instant.

“Are you okay?” You open one eye and the first thing you see is Taeyong, hair dripping and eyebrows frowned. You try not to think about the fact that he is shirtless, because you have no right to ask for justifications and because you’re way too embarrassed by the sight. You only stare back, eyelids heavy and mouth slightly opened.

“Just resting.” Your lips barely move, soft yet chapped. Your arms are spread, and your starfish appearance pulls a snort out of Taeyong’s mouth, his teeth showing and cheekbones jumping up his now cleaned face.

He throws his wet shirt over his shoulder and sits in the water, his hands rotating around him for balance. “The plane must be around here.” He blurts, anxious like he has been thinking about this ever since he set foot on this island.

You stare at the sky, the idea of not being the only two survivors relieving beyond belief. “You think so...? The last thing I remember is me falling asleep after throwing up because there was too much turbulence...” It’s really the last thing you remember, and even that part is cloudy, like it was a bad dream.

You wonder if you will ever wake up.

“You don’t remember? Thought you had lost consciousness because of the crash.” Taeyong doesn’t know why he is surprised, he never really asked about anything before the moment he saw you, unconscious, on the beach.

You both never talked about this, as if it never happened, as if you were two stranger meeting during horrible vacations.

You finally sit up, and his body shines underwater. The sight is almost unholy. “Do you remember what happened?” It suddenly becomes too real, the way Taeyong’s face changes from calm to edgy, and how his eyes lose the sparkle caused by such a calming moment.

“It was a long fall.” He starts, an anxious hand going to his hair to brush them away from his face. “The plane started shaking violently, and the staff was running around, trying to reassure everyone. It was kind of useless, considering the plane was actually diving right into the water. The captain was able to stabilise our path but at some point, we hit something and people who had not fastened their seatbelt got hit. Everyone started screaming and crying and...I don’t know, it felt...surreal.” Taeyong was looking everywhere, avoiding the parts when his friends started panicking, the moment he saw the baby and thought he would die at such a young age, the way he thought about the fact that he would die before he even proved anything, like the damn loser he was.

“Must have been intense. My head still hurts so I guess I received a hard blow.” You try to laugh to lighten the mood, but Taeyong only stares at you, head cocked to the side and still wearing that kicked puppy face.

“You were lucky, then.” He tries to smile, hoping it would at least make you feel better. It suddenly hits you that maybe Taeyong has been traumatised by the events. He is awfully quiet most of the time, and his expressions always make him look like he was about to get into a fight yet he has always been nice, in his own way.

You shake these thoughts away. Maybe this is how people who survived a plane crash are supposed to be, maybe you should stop trying to analyse his feelings like a cheap psychologist. 

“You should wash, we will be going soon.” Taeyong stops your inner conflict and gets up, shaking his head. “I’ll go over there.” And he turns around, leaving you lifeless in the middle of what could have been an awesome paradise.

A paradise turned into hell when the flight KAL134 crashed into its surrounding waters.

___ 

This waterfall worked like a savage massage machine on your shoulders but it woke you up, and even Taeyong hears your stomach grumbling, later that evening. You were able to drink thanks to the river, but you need consistence, right now.

So far, he collected a couple of fruits on the way, but nothing big enough to fill your way too empty stomach. You don’t know if he is a big eater, but you love food too much to stay deprived for so long. There’s literally nothing you can do, because nothing is familiar to you, and he seems to know what is eatable and what is not so you can only rely on his knowledge. It’s making you feel so frustrated, so dependant, like you can’t do nothing without him.

You want to ask him how the hell does he know all this, but you’re never going to ask, you know this. Taeyong won’t tell you, and even if you don’t know him at all, you start to understand his way of functioning.

He is a mysterious boy whose worries are eating him alive from the inside. You can tell he isn’t pleased with life at all, and the thought only is enough to make you back off from any sort of personal talk, afraid you’d wake even more problems in his tormented mind.

“I’m hungry. And exhausted.” You mumble after you trip on another huge hidden root. You hurt your knee pretty badly because your pants it ripped and you can see blood on your skin. 

Taeyong stops, kneeling in front of you. He puts the huge leaf containing the fruits on the ground and looks at you, lips tight. “Tt’s too craggy to stop here. Do you think you can walk a bit more until we find a better place to sleep?” His tone is quiet, whispered, like anyone could hear you.

“Of course.” You force yourself to get up, because if you don’t he will have to take care of you again, and it’s starting to irritate you more than you’d admit.

It’s maddening to rely on someone, and even more when it’s a stranger, in the middle of an island after a plane crash. 

Your limb burns but you do your best not to limp, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Taeyong who starts sighing when you hiss. Maybe that wasn’t just a scratch.

“You’re going to ruin your knee.” It doesn’t sound like he is worried about you, but you’re glad he isn’t getting mad by the fact that you’re nothing but a weakling. “here.” 

You blink at his back when he turns around. Is he thinking about what you’re thinking? He is already holding your victuals, taking care of the whole situation when he could have easily figured something out on his own, he doesn’t have to do this.

Yet, his voice is the softest you’ve ever heard when he speaks the words “Jump on my back.”

You don’t know how to answer, and chose not to trust your ears. “What?” You’re frozen, hands in front of you like he is about to attack.

“I’ll carry you.” He is really thinking about giving you a piggyback. In any other circumstance, it could have been romantic, if it wasn’t for the fact that you will probably die on this island soon.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t even seem to be carrying you, and you wonder how can such a skinny guy be so strong. You’re anywhere near skinny and rather average, but he keeps on walking, arms locked around your legs to keep you steady while your own are around his neck, carrying the leaf containing the fruits.

“Let me down, I’m heavy.” You feel guilty enough for a whole army, you don’t need him to exhaust his body.

That situation is shitty, everything is shitty, this island is a nightmare, this flight was the worst idea ever and when he doesn’t answer, you let your head fall on his shoulder. “You’re doing enough already.” 

He looks surprised by the guilt in your voice, but turns his face, just so you won’t see how embarrassed he actually is by the situation. 

“I can see a safe place, we’ll stop soon.” Taeyong readjusts your body on his back and you tighten your hold around his neck, surprised by how light you seem to be.

You stay silent, then. You let him do his thing and don’t insist. You’re not bothered by the proximity, because it would take a lot for you to find the situation uneasy when your whole life is a mess.

Taeyong can’t say the same thing. You don’t know about it so he acts like it’s normal. He doesn’t focus on the warmth irradiating all over his back and neck, he is so unfazed by the way your chest presses against him. He doesn’t care at all. There’s so little you know about him to understand his struggles and how he lived so far but to him, it’s like a long-lost feeling, something he hadn’t felt for so long it’s almost foreign.

He doesn’t want you to see how weak he actually is.

You both stop a couple of minutes later and Taeyong kneels on the floor to let you land safely on earth. He tells you to stay put while he busies himself with the fire and the fruits. 

You do as he says and watch him, your knee long forgotten. He walks around, brings tiny branches, takes tiny stones, makes a fire, goes back to the jungle, comes with more fruits, steps on the ground to make it even and when he is done he approaches you, his soiled hand reaching for you.

“Done.” He is breathless, like he ran a thousand miles and looks sweaty but he offers a tiny smile so you won’t nag him for doing this.

You don’t get this. You don’t get the whole change in his personality, the way he does all the work and takes care of you. You let him lift you up and limp toward the tiny makeshift camp, laying down by the fire. 

Taeyong grabs a big stone and throws it on a coconut, you see it from the corner of your eyes. It breaks easily and you see how happy he looks. He thinks you can’t see him.

But he actually looks like a kid.

“Here.” He comes back, victorious, and hands you the broken pieces, already aiming for his next victim.

“Thanks.” You sit properly and keep on watching him struggling with the second one, which doesn’t resist for long before breaking.

“Good job.” You chant, and it sounds like you’re teasing him when you’re just praising him.

Taeyong comes back with the fruit and doesn’t know how to answer so he merely nods, a tiny smile painting his exhausted features.

When did he even become so shy?

You stop wondering about your co-survivor because sleep is important. He fell asleep already, arms over his chest and breathing steady. You have yet to find sleep too, but your head is so full it won’t let you relax. It’s funny though, to think that you were supposed to go back to your parents after all the drama you all went through. You had everything planned, from what you were supposed to say to how to introduce your boyfriend.

But it all went to waste, because you have no boyfriend anymore, and you might never see your family again. In a way, it’s a relief. You never thought you would feel this way, and you laugh to yourself when you remember that time you said “I’d rather go live in a deserted island rather than live with you!” to your parents.

An icy drop falls on your face and it makes you open your eyes. Another one falls on your cheeks, on your forehead, and when it starts raining for real you sit up, eyeing a very sleepy Taeyong who isn’t even disturbed by the amount of water on his face.

“Hey, Taeyong. Taeyong!” The fire is slowly dying and the rain is so cold you start shivering. You shake his shoulder lightly and his body jumps while his eyes look up to you in fear. He looks around, unfamiliar with his surroundings and for a moment, he seems to be frightened by the situation.

You’re at a loss of words. “It’s...raining.” you urge gently, your eyes searching for his blinking ones, in the almost pitch black jungle.

He is out of breath, but it takes a second for him to go back on earth. He gets up, but when he reaches the fire it’s almost dead and soaked, and he looks devastated.

“What do we do?” You speak loudly to cover the sound of the pouring rain and bend to take a look at his face, even though you can now barely see it. The jungle is dark, way too dark for your liking. 

“There’s nothing we can do. We’ll have to wait for the rain to stop. Everything’s soaked,” He kneels and grabs a handful of mud before throwing it aside, annoyed. “Shit. Shit!” 

The temperature is falling at the speed of light, and your body feels heavy with rain, hair cupping your cheeks and eyelash full of droplets. A loud thunderclap makes you scream and jump, your heart almost stopping. 

Your life definitely couldn’t get worse, right now.

Taeyong thinks for a minute, you see it from the way his shadow moves in the dark. It’s only the sound or rain you two, with maybe more thunder and it’s scaring the shit out of you. 

“Kneel down.” Taeyong grabs your hand out of nowhere when a flash of lightning lights the jungle for a nanosecond. A loud noise comes shortly after and makes you jump again. When the wind starts blowing hard, you curl up and Taeyong follows. 

Great. You thought you were going to die on a deserted island after a plane crash, but you’ll actually die of a lightning strike on said island, after a plane crash. Like you didn’t have enough problems.

Taeyong tightens his hold on your hand to grab your attention and his face is suddenly close to yours. “We will stay away from the trees and wait for it to pass.” He yells, curling up on the floor and forcing you to do the same. 

“I’m freaking cold!” You yell back, screaming when another thunderclap lands dangerously close. You suddenly want to cry because it’s getting worse and the probability of you dying becomes too real. You don’t want this, you want to stay alive and run away from this place. 

“Calm down.” Taeyong coos, his hand tapping your back awkwardly, “I don’t think it’ll last long.”

How the hell can he be so sure of that? How the hell can he stay collected in such a moment? If he is some sort of survival professional, you’re nothing but a city-dweller, you don’t know how to cope with such a high level of danger.

The thunder lasts for forever, you think. It hits everywhere around you, and each time it makes you cling on Taeyong more, body shivering and drenched. You’re cold, scared, exhausted, you knee is on fire.

Taeyong doesn’t speak, and simply lets you grab his body everywhere you can, hiding your face against him and jumping in sync with thunder. He waits, quiet, peaceful, slightly shivering from the cold but other than that, he looks fine.

Your fingers get numb from clinging on him but you don’t even care, and when the wind softens, you don’t let go, frozen and tensed. Your eyes are closed so tightly your eyeballs hurt but you can’t move. 

Taeyong nudges you when it’s all over. “It’s over. Y/N, it’s over.” He tries, but you shake your head, in a trans, waiting for the next blow. 

It’s not over, it’ll never be over, not until you die.

“Hey..” he searches for your face, still hidden against him. “It’s over, you’re safe now.” He adds and when you don’t move, his hand grabs your face to lift it. “Look at me.”

“I’m scared.” You only answer, eyes still tightly shut in an attempt to protect yourself from the danger. You don’t notice the way the sky got lighter, offering a tiny ray of brightness in the middle of broken nature.

Taeyong’s hand goes to your face, wiping the rain. “See? It’s not raining anymore.” He uses his softest voice, because you need safety, and even though he is a good for nothing, he understands you better than anyone would.

You open your eyes and he can only offer a smile, shy yet radiant. 

“It’s really over?” You don’t try to look at the sky because it became such a dangerous place and focus on his eyes. 

He just nods, but his smile doesn’t leave his face. If he ever shows any sign of doubt, you could freak out and he doesn’t want that.

After a while and a lot of comfort from the boy, you finally get up. Your hand doesn’t let go of him and he lets you, using it as a way to pull you away from the scene.

And as you two leave and you finally notice what the thunder had done to your surroundings, you realize that it’s not only about a plane crash anymore, or eating fruits, or washing yourself because your clothes are dirty.

It’s survival. 

___

[osmw1]

Poison-Wielding Fugitive   Chapter 7

I put my armor back on again and walk to wherever my mood takes me. Plants grow sparsely in the area due to the poisonous swamp, making the view rather nice. Monsters like Spray Green Mosquitos approach me but I can easily dispatch of them all. My sword also cuts very well. A mere graze would slay low-level monsters like Spray Green Mosquitos. Even if I were to be attacked, I could always just hop back in the pond to recover. It’s very reassuring.

It’s very nice knowing that I can safely battle, as long as I avoid any fatal wounds. Though I’m not doing much but cutting down vines and insects. I feel like I’m playing on easy mode… but is everything really alright? Aren’t those bad guys who are trying to kill Veno around here?

‘Aye. I cannot call our progress anything but good so far. However, as with you too, it puts me at unease.’

They say to not let your guard down after a victory, right? Let’s not get careless then. Like how I was stung by the mosquito after I finished chopped down the vine. But while I was treading lightly forward…

Awoo!

I heard a distant howling, coming from somewhere farther away. As I inspect my surroundings, Veno highlights with a marker.

Four Midnight Blue Wolves One Midnight Blue Wolf Alpha

The monsters respectively appeared. It appears that the monsters have formed a pack. They’re a wolf-type monster, right? Every one of them are all pretty damn big. A bit bigger than a golden retriever. Not to mention that the alpha is about one and a half times bigger too. I’m… in a bit of a pickle, aren’t I? Even though due to instinctual fear, I’m already sprinting at full speed.

“Hmm. You will have difficulties with this many of them.’

Veno warned me. I’m a guy who barely even wants to fight! Of course I knew that. As if the Midnight Blue Wolf Alpha were eyeing me up, it fixates its gaze on me and growls. In any case, there are too many of them! Even one of them would be tough enough.

Woof, woof!

They were pretty far away, but in a blink of an eye, they’ve formed into a pack, rushing over at me. I can tell they’re powerful just by their speed. They’re definitely not on the same level of vines and bugs! My instincts tell me that if I were to be surrounded, I’d be done for.

“Stow my armor!” ‘Aye!’

Before they closed the distance, I requested Veno to store my armor while diving into the rather deep swamp. With big splashes, I swim towards the middle of the pond and look back at the bank where the Midnight Blue Wolves continued to growl and bark. You thought I was an easy prey, did you?

Haha! You wouldn’t dare enter this dangerous swamp, would you, mongrels? Before long, one of the Midnight Blue Wolves lost its temper and jumped into the poisonous swamp, doggy paddling towards me. Shit! It jumped in! I hadn’t thought of the possibility that they might be resistant to poison since here is their habitat.

Hah… hah…

Oh? It’s running out of steam. When it dived in, I thought it might have resistance against poison but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

“Moron! This is my territory!”

With my body feeling as light as a feather, I swam towards the Midnight Blue Wolf and thrusted at him in the water with my sword. Crap, it doesn’t matter how light I am, I’m still in water. I couldn’t stab it as well as I thought I could.

Roar!

As it was being stabbed, the Midnight Blue Wolf snapped towards me, aiming at my neck. I guard against its bite with my arm. Gah! My arm’s gonna snap off! What strength, this monster! And it even has the nerve to go berserk at me! Anyway, having just narrowly avoided his bite, if I don’t take out this Midnight Blue Wolf in one more move, the others might come jumping in. With all my determination, I muster all the strength I had. I use my wounded arm to cling onto the wolf from behind and sink the wolf into the water.

Blub blub blub?!

The Midnight Blue Wolf having been sunk into the water and unable to breathe, stops its biting and tries to keep his face above the water.

‘Don’t let it breathe!’

As I interfere with the wolf by leaning on it from above, I haphazardly thrust my sword. The blood of the Midnight Blue Wolf dyes the water, turning the swamp into a suspicious shade.

The wolf whimpers in pain.

Oh? It’s quickly becoming weaker and weaker.

‘It seems like the poison is getting to its system. It might be a higher-level monster for you, but you can fight well with your schemes.’

As soon as I thought it was starting to convulse, the Midnight Blue Wolf stops moving. I’ve slain it quicker than I thought I would.

Awoo!

The Midnight Blue Wolf Alpha howled in rage as it sees one of its own killed. But there were no signs of any intention to come towards here. Maybe it’s obvious. It doesn’t seem like the Midnight Blue Wolves have any sort of resistance to poison. Furthermore, where I was bitten was visibly and steadily healing.

‘Now then… the rest of them are watching to see how you will exit, hmm?’

Wow. I can almost believe that I won’t die as long as I have that toxic swamp. So, the Midnight Blue Wolf Alpha’s strategy is to not let me escape by simply circling around the water and trying to intimidate me? Perhaps they’re planning to kill me once I leave my safe zone or maybe they’re anticipating that I succumb to the poison.

‘As the monsters’ leader has experience battling here, it would be easier for it to wait for its opponent. Since only the foolish underling died.’

I see. Only a dumb prey would enter a toxic swamp by his own accord is what they’re thinking. Well then, storing the corpse of the Midnight Blue Wolf at once wouldn’t pose any problems, right?

‘Ah. Since you have already dealt with it at great pains, let us not waste its hide either. Would you like the bones?’

Just in case…

‘In that case, I shall enjoy the meal.’

For some reason, the thought of Veno tearing up the corpse apart and digging in at its delicious meat just popped up in my head. But how is it really? Wait, don’t fuckin’ eat in the middle of battle!

‘If you succumb here, so shall I! I will feast! I desire a last meal before I perish!’

Ah, whatever, you’re nothing but a useless spectator of a dragon!

“Hmm…”

I might just be loitering right now, I did have a pretty close call. Though I shouldn’t die while in this poisonous pool. … it’s another story if I hit the limits of what Poison Absorption can do however. That’s why while I worry about my surroundings, I’m also figuring out a way to attack and execute my plans. The picture of Poison Release flashes in my mind.

Swamp toxin Spray Green Mosquito toxin

Hmm? Spray Green Mosquito’s venom has been added to the list too. Maybe it’s a learning-type skill. When I checked the details, a remaining quantity was shown. That must mean I have a limited supply. So… I pretty much have unlimited charges for the swamp toxin, eh?

‘Aye… it seems like you are able to attack them from your safe area. You might be able to achieve something if you execute your plans well.’

Veno has the nerve to make these comments with his mouth full.

I grunted out loud as I threw the blob of poison at the Midnight Blue Wolf Alpha.

Woof!

As expected, the wolf easily dodged the poison before it connected. But I’m bound to hit one of them if I keep throwing, right? Not to mention that I have an inexhaustible supply of this. At any rate, I’m safe here in my pool of poison! I threw tens of those balls of poison without running out of breath.

Awoo! Woof?! Woof, woof! Woof!

The Midnight Blue Wolf Alpha realized both that it wouldn’t be killed by my poison and that I wouldn’t come out of my safe zone. They ran away together at once.

‘Did they escape after comprehending their disadvantage? Perhaps it is in the nature of the leader and not the rest of the pack.’

Since I’ve killed one of their own, they can’t help but to come back and take revenge, right?

‘If the had such a persistence, it might lead to their own demise. They must be blaming their failure on underestimating their opponent.’

That’s good if that’s the case… If I can only survive from my safe zone, my weakness would be obvious. I better not get cocky.

‘Aye… we have learned a bit more about ourselves. To have so much comprehension in our first day of existing together is great progress.’

Yeah, yeah. I come out of the pool and survey my surroundings. There… aren’t any other monsters. Since it seems safe, I’ll get Veno to get my clothes for me. Being able to change in an instant is pretty handy as well. In any case, I’ll investigate a bit for now?

‘Hmm? Look yonder.’

I look to where Veno marks with a highlighted marker. I see a cave there.

‘I dare say it is a dungeon.’

Dungeon? A dungeon, like in an RPG where great treasure lies? There’s even stuff like this in this world, huh?

‘Aye… although there are various types of dungeons.’

Types?

‘It would be a long explanation. Would that be fine?’

It’d be better to know a bit about them, wouldn’t you say?

‘Aye… then to put it simply. First, there is the type where it is created by twisting space. It is a curious reaction to a monster’s Compression Magic. The process collects magical essence and creates many different things. It is a forte of mine to untwist and dismantle these dungeons.’

Twisting space, huh? In a sense, it’s an accumulation of magic?

‘The next type is remnants of ruins. Often, relics of the past lie in wait. Well, if there is a high density of magic, it is more than likely to be a monster’s den. I, too, often exploit curiosity to lure others in my nest.’

A dragon’s treasure hunt… if you think about it, you do see a lot of instances in fiction where dragons hoard treasure. It’s easy to imagine humans plundering valuables, but hoarding is also in the nature of dragons too, I see.

‘I am glad that this is easy for you to understand. Then next up are dungeons of a monster’s own creation. Nests, like mine, are usually made suitable for notable monsters.’

Ah, these are dungeons made from something like a dragon’s nest or an ant’s nest. So? Which one is this one?

‘Even I do cannot sense something like that at first glance… however, it is likely that this is either naturally-made or a remnant since there are no monsters as sentries.’

Hmm… then shall we head in?

‘We shall not. Not for now, at least. To enter a dungeon alone would be insufficient.’

Yeah, I thought so. For a guy who had such a difficult fight outside of the dungeon, entering would be reckless. As I said that…

“Hey, that person over there…”

A mysterious person with a gas mask on? No, that voice… it’s Arleaf showing her face all of a sudden as she exits the cave, seeing me and calling out for me. On her back is a mountain of herbs collected. It seems like that Arleaf has been harvesting in that dungeon.

previously: /ch001/ /ch002/ /ch003/ /ch004/ /ch005/ /ch006/ /ch007/ /next/ (full list of translated chapters) (discussion thread) (support Average Translations)

[surveys4ever]

35.

Have you ever been to Australia? I have not! The heat and the bugs are a large deterrent, haha.

Who was the last person you know to have a birthday? My mom’s was at the beginning of this month and then a friend from high school had a birthday last week.

Are you wearing a necklace? If so, describe it. I’m not but I was, it’s a gold chain with a simple little (fake) diamond in the middle.

Do you know anyone who is left-handed? My little sister is.

Ever wear out a CD? What was it? Metaphorically, sure, but not actually. I listened to Metamorphosis by Hilary Duff a shameful amount of times as a kid.

What’s your favorite card game? Skip Boooo. I am a beast at Skip Bo.

What’s your favorite fast food meal? It really depends on my mood.

Where is the best restaurant you’ve ever eaten in at? I just love Longhorn. Their parmesan crusted chicken and firecracker wraps are legitttt.

Lamb chops or pork chops? Neither. I remember my mom cooking pork chops as a kid and she would just toss them into a crockpot with baby carrots and potatoes and a can of mushroom soup....the woman doesn’t use salt. That was always my LEAST favorite meal.

If you HAD to pick ONE song to listen to for the rest of your life, and that would be the only song you ever heard, what would it be? I’d rather never listen to music again than pick only one song to listen to forever. 

Ever heard of Shinedown? I have not.

What size is your bed? Queen!

What is the first meal you remember eating? I don’t know if I remember that. Maybe a happy meal? My mom didn’t cook back then lol.

What was the first movie you ever saw? Something to do with Barney I’m sure.

What percentile of your class were you in? I don’t know the exact percent but I was always on the high honor roll.

Can you name every place you’ve ever had sex? Well. Obviously my husband’s bedroom, a travel trailer on the couch and the bed, several hotels, all over our first, second, third, and current house, the stairwell of our building, the back of our car, the fitting rooms in Kmart and JCPenney, andddd...I think that’s it?

What forms of birth control have you used? Condoms and then vasectomy.

Do you use sponges or dishcloths when doing the dishes? A sponge. It works so much better than a cloth.

What’s your favorite song on the top twenty right now? I honestly couldn’t tell you what’s on the top twenty rn.

Ever punched a wall? No, I’m not a teenage boy.

What was the last bug you killed and what did you use? A mosquito, my hand.

Ever get pulled over by the cops and get away without a ticket?  I’ve been pulled over a handful of times but only gotten a ticket once.

What was your first legal alcoholic drink? I don’t totally remember...I know it was at Longhorn and it was very sweet and it was funny because I wouldn’t share with my husband because I’m 3 months older than him and he technically wasn’t allowed to have alcohol yet hehehe.

What’s the most expensive things your parents ever bought you? A laptop for Christmas one year.

What’s the most expensive thing you’ve bought? Our car or my MacBook.

What is your favorite cover song? I love Sleeping With Siren’s version of Iris and Miley Cyrus’ version of Heart of Glass.

Did you ever drop out of school? Nope.

Ever raise a child that wasn’t your own for more than 3 months? Babysitting them every day, yeah.

Strangest medical procedure ever performed on you? I don’t think I’ve ever had any weird medical procedures lol.

Does the place you work have music playing? What sort? I play whatever I want haha.

Do you use Windows, Mac, Linux, or something else entirely? Mac!

Do you cut tags out of clothing so they don’t itch and bother you? If it’s bothering me, yes!

How many times a year do you go on vacation? Usually twice a year.

What is your favorite time period in history to learn about? I don’t know if I have a favorite!

What’s the saddest report you have ever seen on the news? I don’t watch the news for exactly that reason.

In your honest opinion, what is the scariest sea creature you know? Omg that massive fucking squid that just hangs there and stretches out its massive arms and has super long feelers that hang to the ocean floor? That thing is T E R R I F Y I N G.

What superpower do you think would be the most handy in times of trouble? Shape shifting.

Do you believe there is just one love for everyone, or…? Noooo. The world is far too vast for there to only be one outcome.

Why are you best friends with your best friend? Because he’s got a nice penis. Hahaha jk. But he does.

Do you world peace is truly a possibility in the future?  Oh no way. Humanity has always and will always be at war with one another.

Pretend you are a really good cook, what meal would you make? I am a good cook actually but I always manage to blow people’s socks off with my mac & cheese.

What do you think of when you look at the stars? It’s just wild that we’re so small and that there are whole other worlds out there that we haven’t even begun to dream about touching.

If a turtle doesn’t have a shell, is he homeless or naked? Theyyyy would be dead. Their shell is part of their body, not their house. 

What’s one thing you feel you must do in your life before it ends? Learn to be happy.

What Disney princess are you most like? Does mEGARA COUNT?

What do you think is the most important thing in this life is? Finding a way to be happy despite all the awful in the world.

Do you use any acne medication? When I get pimples, I use these star acne patches that are very cute and very effective.

Have you ever tried to learn another language? How did it go? Spanish and French. I still only speak English so uh...you can guess how well that went.

Do you still have a landline phone in your home? Newp.

Throughout a typical week, which places are you likely to go? Thrift stores, a grocery store or two, maybe some garage sales, a craft store if we’re feelin’ it. We’re not very exciting haha.

How often do you use your webcam, if you even have one that is? Raaaarely. I prefer to facetime on my phone.

Do you have a lock number or pattern for your phone? A passcode but I usually use Face ID.

What was the last thing you bought from a liquor store? We were going to buy some beer and cider but we got there 6 minutes after it closed lol.

Is there any cereal in your house? What kind? My husband just bought honeycombs!

What's the most number of people you've ever lived with? 5. My parents and 3 siblings.

Do you celebrate St. Patrick's Day? I might wear green if I’m feeling super festive but that’s literally it.

Do you have any pets? How long have you had them? Yup! We’ve had her since she was 4 months old and she’s 7 1/2 now.

What's your favourite kind of cheese? Gruyere.

Have you danced in the rain? When I was really young, yeah!

Who is your favorite person to text? Tbh I don’t love texting but if anyone, my husband. I much prefer to talk to him in person tho.

What’s your favorite brand of jeans? Torrid.

Do you enjoy Mario games? Overall, yeah! There are a few turds in the bunch tho.

What’s your favorite online game? Among Us I guess? I haven’t played it in a long time but it’s the only game I really play online ever.

Have you ever been hit with a ball in gym class? Every fuckin sport. My head is a ball magnet...and I do mean that in both ways.

Who was last to cook for you? A cook at a restaurant lol.

Would you ever wish to explore a cave? Ummm..if it was safe and guided I guess?

You see the person you fell hardest for. What do you do? ...Hug him? He’s my husband, so.

Have you ever ridden in a car with someone who was high? Nope.

Did you ever date the last person you kissed? I married him!

Have you ever held a snake? I have! They’re very smooth.

How often do you have friends over to your house? All my local friends have moved away sadly. But I met a new friend last week and we’ve hung out a few times already and she’s coming over for dinner tomorrow night.

Have you ever had a boss who acted unprofessionally? Ugh yes.

Who was the last person who cried around you? Why did they start crying? Was it unexpected? I honestly can’t remember. Beebs physically can’t cry because #trauma and I don’t really feel like I spend enough time with other people to see them cry haha. Maybe my sister?

Do you have any exercises you do everyday? Nope.

Are you more of a dog or cat person? Absolutely dog!

Have you ever had a dream of stabbing someone? I have, actually.

Would you ever have a bird as a pet? Noooo thank you.

Have you ever had to speak at a funeral? Nope. I don’t think I’d be good at it.

Do you know someone who’s been cremated? My grandparents’ dog lol.

What is your favorite animated movie? I can’t think of one at the moment!

Did your grandparents teach you anything? My grandpa taught me a lot about how to hold your tongue until you have something meaningful to say as opposed to just talking to hear yourself speak and to be kind and gentle. My grandma taught me how to be tenacious, funny, thoughtful, a great gift giver, and a top notch thrifter.

Do you want/have a Bachelor's degree? Nope.

Are you into superheroes? Who's your favourite? Not really tbh. Deadpool is pretty cool tho.

Have you ever played Cards Against Humanity? Did you like it? I haven’t, actually!

Have you ever played a drinking game? Which ones? I’m not a big drinker!

Did you ever play Neopets when you were younger? I did!

Have you ever been to Mexico? Nope!

Have your parents ever worked in medicine? My dad currently does. He shouldn’t tho, considering he’s a covid denier who’s refusing to get the vaccine, openly criticizes people who take medication for mental illness, and is a very unsympathetic hypochondriac. He’s literally the LAST person I would ever want working on me if I was in the hospital.

Is there anything unusual about your house?  I don’t think so! It’s pretty regular.

How many serious relationships have you been in? One.

Do you listen to Rise Against? I think I listened to a couple when I was in high school but I couldn’t tell you what they were haha.

When was the last time you congratulated someone? My sister graduated this weekend!

Have you ever taken care of a newborn baby? I have! It’s honestly pretty chill. They only cry when they need something and they only need like 3 things.

How old were you when you got your ears pierced? I first got them pierced when I was 8 and then they got infected and I had to take them out, got them repierced when I was 10, and then got my second holes when I was 12.

Do you snore when you sleep? Haha my husband tells me I do sometimes.

What was the last type of burger you ate? A veggie burger!