#respectfully i’d rather eat my own fingers than do that

[stinkrascal]

im watching kitchen nightmare right now and i love this show but theres this scene in the episode im watching where gordon is making the employees all go out together and play a game of cricket or whatever its called idk and i just wanna say if i had a job and my employer forced me to spend my day off hanging out with them and my coworkers i would quit on the spot

[vizhi0nw]

Ghost

Pairing: Kenny Ackerman/OC

Warnings: Violence, Language. NSFW.

Words:  7k

Summary: Kenny Ackerman had never met someone with a reputation just as bad as his own.

AO3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Part 4 of 4

Home

Snatching up one of Byren’s men was Kenny’s idea, and it was an idea Kenny executed with such proficiency and tact that it had Leyla shocked, disturbed, and a bit envious.

If she was a phantom, then Kenny was, for all intents and purposes, a predator.

Kenny had instructed Leyla to wait at her shop before he’d dragged the man in, beaten and bloodied to a near pulp, by the scruff of his neck. Leyla had hastily shut the blinds and arranged a chair for Kenny to sit the man in, before tying the man’s hands behind him with some spare rope. He’d fallen silent, by this point, opting to just glare at Kenny, teeth bared. Blood caked his face and the front of his shirt, dried and crusty and flaking away. One eye was swollen, and his lip was busted - the wound was fresh and still leaking. When he spoke, flecks of crimson flew.

“You have some fucking nerve, Kenny.”

Leyla recognized him, suddenly. It was the same guard Kenny had spoken to when he’d helped sneak Leyla inside the Byren estate. His eyes went from Kenny, to Leyla.

“Whore,” he spat. Kenny’s backhand was immediate - the man’s head snapped to the side and he spit out a flesh mouthful of blood, red saliva hanging in strings from his lips.

“You’d do best to speak to her respectfully. Ya’ know what I can do, and I know you’re scared shitless,” Kenny unsheathed his knife. He went to stand in front of the man, waving the knife like a kid waving a lollipop. “You’re gonna’ get real intimate with this if you don’t answer our questions.”

“I’m assuming you want to know about Vibro?”

“This little lady has a bone to pick with him,” Kenny jerked his knife in Leyla’s direction. “She’ll be asking the questions. I’m just here as...encouragement.”

Kenny’s lips curled back over his teeth when he spoke the last word, mouth shifting upwards into a grotesque smile. There was an audible shuffling of feet as the man tried to push himself away, but he couldn’t. He was trapped.

“O-okay.”

“Good,” Leyla said gruffly. She steeled herself for whatever resistance she knew she might face - she was intimidating, she knew, but Kenny was on another level that she’d never comprehend or be able to emulate. “The first thing I need - did Byren snatch a group of girls from the Underground’s orphanage? Five of them? Around twelve to sixteen years old?”

No response. Leyla could tell that he was pondering over how to give his answer, but Kenny grew impatience and promptly slapped him across the face once more.

“Answer her.”

“Yes! Yes. I..we..me and another were told to track them through the market...Byren has had an eye on the orphanage for a while. Getting willing sluts above ground is harder than just taking them from down here.”

Leyla’s stomach lurched. She and Kenny exchanged glances, before Leyla reached over and dragged a chair across the floor, letting it rest in front of the man and straddling it. She stared at him with hooded eyes, lips pulled into a taut line.

“Are they at the estate, still?”

“They’re alive, if that’s what you mean. They’re with the others,” the man gave a ragged cough, spitting out more blood. After he’d cleared his throat, he looked up at Leyla. “That’s all I can tell you. My job was just to grab them.”

The chair creaked as Leyla put more of her weight on its back. The man wasn’t pleading verbally, but she could see in his eyes the fact that internally, he was begging, screaming, for Leyla to show him mercy.

Leyla felt nothing but disdain for him. She also knew that it was pointless - Kenny wouldn’t let him walk out alive, even if Leyla tried to convince him to.

“Those girls are either going to be sold and trafficked, or die when Byren is finished with them,” Leyla snarled. “They’re children.”

“I told you, I just did my job,” the man replied. “You think I don’t know that they’re kids? You think I would ever fuck one of them? No. What Vibro does...is what Vibro does. There’s no stopping him. People who speak out don’t last long.”

Leyla tensed.

She’d been seven years old when her parents had been killed. She remembered their faces, remembered her mothers soft voice and her fathers comforting touch. But, each year, her memories of them were beginning to fade as time went on and on and on. It was a constant battle, trying not to forget. Trying to remember.

“You’re a coward,” Leyla breathed.

“I’d rather be a coward than be dead.”

Leyla closed her eyes. She let out a sigh, hearing Kenny snort beside her.

“How pathetic,” Kenny said softly. With shocking speed, he slammed the knife into the man’s shoulder, burying it to the hilt. The man let out a blood curdling scream, and Leyla’s eyes snapped open. Kenny continued, “There’s nothing I hate more than a fucking coward.”

“I’ll answer whatever questions you have,” the man sobbed. “Please. Please.”

Kenny flicked the knife with his pointer finger, easing back and letting it stay embedded in the man’s flesh.

With Kenny watching closely in the background, Leyla proceeded to drag as much information from her captee as she could. Locations, names, stockpile information - Byren had several caches of supplies around Mitras, and owned several storehouses out in other districts. She managed to get a rather simplistic, but helpful, layout of Byren’s estate as well. It was enough information to make her feel confident that she and Kenny could take on Byren as a duo, without possible help from a woman Kenny had mentioned was named Traute.

The man was sporting another swollen eyes by the end of it. One to match the other.

“That’s all I know,” he moaned.

“I believe you,” Leyla whispered. “Kenny…”

“No, please n-”

Blood and brains splattered against the back of his chair and across Leyla’s floor. The gunshot was loud, like a crack of thunder. Leyla had become so used to the sound that she barely flinched, watching the man’s body slump forward.

“I thought you’d never fucking ask. Asshole was gettin’ on my nerves,” Kenny let out a groan and rolled his eyes. He glanced at the carnage - bits of bone, hair, and bodily matter clung to the hardwood. “Shit. Sorry for the mess…”

“It’s fine,” Leyla said hallowly. “I’ll clean it.”

“Meet you at home?”

Home. Leyla looked around the shop - the wine bottles were gathering dust and some of the chairs had cobwebs criss-crossing from one leg to the next. It smelled stale.

This was no longer her home, she realized. The blood and brains were just an unfortunate decoration, at this point. Kenny’s apartment had been her place of residence for several months, and it already felt more congenial than the shop ever had. While she’d always love the place, it had been her grandfather’s legacy, not Leyla’s.

While she’d never have a true home with Kenny, she could pretend for now.

“Yeah,” Leyla said, her voice sounding a little less hollow and a little more hopeful. “I’ll meet you at home.”

                                              ______________

Leyla usually woke first, something Kenny was eternally grateful for. It gave him one of the most stunning views he’d ever have the pleasure of seeing - Leyla, clad in one of his button-up, white shirts and only one of said white shirts, walking around the apartment. He could see her from his room, reaching up to the top shelf of the cabinet to grab something, the shirt riding up past her thighs and giving him the shortest glimpse of panties and the curve of her supple ass. He’d be staring, and when Leyla caught him, she’d simply smile and slip out of his sight.

Fuck.

Kenny rolled over onto his back, bare chest rising and falling as he let out a long breath. There was an indent next to him where Leyla had been sleeping, and the area was still warm - she hadn’t been up very long. He heard shuffling in the kitchen, and footsteps. A moment later, Leyla entered the room with her arms crossed over her chest.

“What do you want for breakfast?”

Kenny raised an eyebrow. His eyes followed Leyla as she waltzed over to the bed, swinging her legs on either side of Kenny’s waist. She straddled him, leaning down to rest her head against his chest. Kenny basked in her closeness, groaning as his cock twitched beneath his thin sleep pants.

“Don’t care,” Kenny murmured. “Just want you right now.”

Leyla gave a rumbling chuckle. She pressed a kiss against Kenny’s chest, making her way up to his shoulder, neck, and then mouth. He buried a hand in her thick curls, hips bucking when her soft hands slid beneath his pants to grip the base of his dick. She jerked a few times before working on wriggling his sleep pants down past his hips, before doing the same to her panties. He could feel her slick against his thigh and he relished in her soft groans as she curled over him, deftly sliding the head of his cock past her soft walls.

“Sweetheart,” Kenny groaned. “So good...”

Leyla’s whimpers were consumed by Kenny’s questing mouth. He thrust upward, wanting nothing more than to tear as many sounds as he could from her throat. His hands gripped her hips, bouncing her on his dick with furious abandon until he felt his balls tighten and his stomach clench and he was shooting ropes of his cum deep inside of her.

“Kenny,” Leyla sighed, the prime indicator that her own orgasm was approaching - Kenny fucked up into her a few more, final times, before she was clenching around him and riding out her own release. She placed a damp kiss against Kenny’s shoulder, one hand lazily tugging at the grey-laced strands of hair on his head.

They lay together for a few moments, before Leyla rested her palms against Kenny’s chest and pushed herself up a bit. She stared down at him, full lips stretching into a smile.

“We need to eat. Have you decided what you want?”

“I was supposed to decide?” Kenny gave a breathy chuckle. “Show me what we have and I’ll make up my mind.”

Leyla rolled off Kenny, pulling her panties back in place. She yelped when Kenny placed a playful slap against her ass, bouncing away on the balls of her feet and disappearing back into the kitchen.

He did everything he could to remember this moment. Remember how it felt to hold her close and murmur sweet nothings into her ear - the previous night, he’d done his best to sear her touch into the very fabric of his mind. He’d taken his time with her, unwrapping her like a sweet, sweet gift and savoring each little sound he drew from her. It was addicting, but it was an addiction Kenny knew would never last a lifetime, no matter how much he wanted it to.

Kenny rolled out of bed, opting not to don his shirt for the time being. When he padded into the kitchen, Leyla was preparing fruit and slices of ham. She had her back turned and seemed to be caught looking out the window before her at the vast expanse of Mitras as she worked to cut up apples.

Was he making the right choice?

Kenny was beginning to doubt himself, doubt his decisions. It was the first time in a while he felt nervous - not for the blood and carnage he knew would ensue in a few days, but because he was genuinely wondering if the divine beings above, if they even existed, were sending him a sign. Leyla was here, in all her beauty, strength, and wit. Willing to settle with him once the deed of killing Byren was done.

He was going to choose a life of servitude to the King and to the MP’s over her.

There was a house out near Shiganshina for them, waiting.

“You’re staring again, Kenny,” Leyla said softly. Kenny shook his head, snapping out of his trance. He shoved the thought as far into the back of his mind as he could push it, walking over to settle at the table while Leyla brought over two plates arranged with berries, apples, and ham.

“I was just caught up in my own thoughts. Ya’ know how it gets,'' Kenny toyed with an apple slice. “I’m going to run recon on the estate later this evenin’.”

“Thank you,” Leyla said through a mouthful of food. She swallowed, plucking a berry from where it lay and analyzing it. “I want to get this over with. Make it smooth and clean...get those girls out of there.”

“This is a rescue mission now, huh.”

“Something like that,” Leyla murmured. She popped the berry into her mouth, chewing very slowly as she thought for a moment. When she swallowed, she took a second before speaking in a low voice. “I remember what it was like, crawling around the brothel, having to deal with clients...I did it on my own accord and still got treated like shit. I can’t imagine...what Byren is doing to those girls.”

“My sister was like you,” Kenny said tightly. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Same profession. I’m glad you got out.”

“What was your sister’s name?”

“You wouldn’t have known her,” Kenny replied. After a pause, he said, “Her name was Kuchel. I’d visit her sometimes, and I’d come in and see her bruised and battered because she’d refused to fulfill the fantasy of some sick deadbeat.”

“I hope she hit back,” Leyla said.

“Oh, I’m sure she did,” Kenny chuckled. He could tell that Leyla wanted to know more from the way she leaned in, head tilted to the side a bit. It was the first time, he realized, that he’d spoken about Kuchel out loud to anyone. There was a weird weight floating off his chest, and he found himself wanting to speak, wanting to talk more about her. It was weird, it was foreign, but Kenny had never shied away from something new, so he embraced the feeling. “Her kid though...her kid was - is - a damn spitfire. Craziest damn brat I’ve ever known - he hits hard.”

“You have a nephew?”

“Levi,” Kenny chuckled. “You and him would get along.”

“Hm,” Leyla hummed. “Tell me more.”

Kenny did.

The weight was gone by the time he’d finished. He felt free - as free as he felt when he was flying high over Mitras with his gear, soaring above the little ants below, able to go wherever he wanted, however he wanted. He spoke to Leyla of his grandfather, of Traute and the MP’s - of Uri, and the Reiss family. He took it slowly, revealing information bit by bit until he was confident that Leyla understood.

“It’s amazing,” Leyla breathed, when he was finished. “There’s a whole world outside of the Underground that I would have never known, had I not met you.”

“Big picture, sweetheart,” Kenny ran a hand through his hair. “You’re right. The world is much too big, and you’re much too good for it.”

“Kenny…”

“When this is all over, I’m packin’ up my shit with the MP’s and we’re going to find a house near Shiganshina,” Kenny said, chest clenching when Leyla reared back, startled. “Just you and me. We’ll buy some chickens or goats or some shit…”

Leyla covered her mouth as she laughed. She reached out and clasped Kenny’s hand, suddenly. “We said we’d talk about it after, Kenny. You have your dreams as well.”

He had dreams, but he hadn’t disclosed the specifics of them to Leyla during his explanation of Uri’s abilities. She’d taken it rather well, only inquiring once or twice about the nature of the Titan powers. Kenny had told her as much as he could, and he wondered if her apathy towards the situation was due to the fact that, for all intents and purposes, Titans were something Leyla had never had to deal with. If there was one positive thing about living in the Underground beneath the Mitras, it was that death via Titan was last on the list of ways to go.

“I just...fuck, I love you,” Kenny let out a breathy chuckle. He felt Leyla squeeze his hand, and his heart did somersaults in his chest. “If only we had more time…”

“We will have time, Kenny. I promise,” Leyla said sincerely. “We’ll try. I swear, we’ll try. But right now I’m...I’m not ready. I have to do this.”

Kenny said nothing. He’d heard it before - the excuse.

This time, however, it was different.

“I’m scared of being truly alone. That’s why. I stay in the Underground...I push myself to do things like this because even though I’ve always been a loner, I’ve always had the people down there...watching me, giving me a reason to keep going. I’m scared that if I leave, I won’t have that anymore.”

“You’ll have me.”

“I know. That’s why part of me thinks I might be ready, after this.”

Leyla leaned forward and pressed her lips against Kenny’s. He returned the kiss, savoring it - in the back of his mind he found himself beginning to think of where exactly in the city of Mitras he’d find a ring.

                                                   _____________

“Make sure your gear is secure,” Kenny tugged on the straps looped around Leyla’s arms and chest. “Wouldn’t want ya’ takin’ a tumble, now would we?”

“No. It would be embarrassing, and I know you’d get yourself shot laughing at me,” Leyla huffed. She grazed her fingers across her chestplate, glancing up at Kenny as he bared his teeth in a smile. “Oh, stop it.”

“Can’t help it. Ya’ make me laugh.”

“Your cruelty knows no bounds, Kenny Ackerman.”

A thumb tilted Leyla’s chin upward. Kenny’s mouth met hers, and she immediately melted into his arms. He nipped at her lower lip when he pulled away, his breath hot against her cheek.

“Ya’ love me anyway.”

“Always.”

The sun had dipped below the walls long ago, and Mitras was now a sprawling city alight with lanterns. The Byren estate was just a pump of air away, and Leyla could see the top of the house from the roof she and Kenny were currently crouched upon. It seemed so close, yet so far at the same time.

The plan was rather simplistic in nature, but one slip up could bring the entire operation crumbling to the ground. It was Kenny’s task to take out any watchguards stationed around the estate while Leyla would soar over and squeeze through to Byren’s room on the top level. Any shootout that ensued after wouldn’t serve to alert any outdoor guards, who, from what their captee had told them, were instructed to signal for backup using flares. They’d come from all over Mitras along with the MP’s, something they - especially Kenny - couldn’t risk.

Byren was still in the dark about Kenny. Their captee had also informed them that, while Byren had his suspicions, he hadn’t seen nor heard Kenny during the initial attack.

Bold. That was the only word for the plan.

“See ya’ on the other side,” Kenny said playfully. He shot his hooks into the adjacent building, gas projecting him forward and out of sight, leaving Leyla utterly alone with only the cool night air to soothe her.

“Showtime,” she murmured. Mimicking Kenny’s actions from earlier, she shot a projectile into the building opposite of her, letting the gas launch her into the sky. Her mind was hyper focused on remembering her training - how to duck, move her body so the gas sent her careening one way, and then the other, then the other...Leyla had the rhythm down. She approached the Byren estate with careful ease, pulling herself onto the rooftop, right where she and Kenny had planned.

The area was dead silent. The lanterns were lit, but then was an eerie stillness to the mansion that sent chills down Leyla’s spine. She peered over the edge of the roof, locating the window where she knew, beyond, Byren resided. She prepared herself, making sure her guns were loaded, before swinging down from above and bursting through the glass. The entire thing was messy, loud, and sudden - if Kenny had finished with his task, there would be no guards alerted.

Byren was right where Leyla had anticipated he’d be, curled up in bed with some woman Leyla didn’t recognize. At the sound of breaking glass, he rolled from bed - Leyla could see him begin to fumble for something in the drawer of his bedside table, and as quickly as she could, she aimed a shot directly above the headboard. The resounding crack, and the impact, caused Byren to pause the search for his weapon and for the woman in his bed to scream and cover her ears.

Byren sunk to his knees at the foot of his bed. He looked up at Leyla, expression blank.

“I knew you were more than just a whore. Look at you - so brave-”

“Don’t fucking move,” Leyla hissed. She pointed the gun directly at Byren, waiting - as if on cue, Kenny burst through the bedroom door. He was panting, breastplate speckled with blood.

“Hope I didn’t miss anything,” he tipped his hat in Byren’s direction. “Bedroom is secure?”

“As secure as it can be,” Leyla replied. She looked Byren up and down - she could see that his right hand was wrapped in tight gauze, his fingers having been reduced down to nubs from where Kenny had all but vaporized the limb. His face was pallid, and he had dark circles beneath his eyes. There was still that crazed look Leyla had seen when he’d killed Marissa. It hadn’t been stomped out.

Leyla wondered what look he’d given her parents when he’d had them killed.

“I should have known,” Byren gave a breathless, struggling laugh. “You and I never saw eye to eye, Kenny. A shame it had to come to this.”

“This little lady here was far kinder to me than you ever were. Her cause was far more noble than anything you ever employed me for,” Kenny waved his gun dismissively. “It’s a damn shame, but as we all know, this world is cruel. Damn cruel.”

“You could have been anything, Kenny. I always admired you,” Byren bared his teeth. “Your unforgiving ferocity. You could have been like me - we were built for this, Kenny. Inside these walls, where there’s no Titans - people like us are the inheritors of everything.”

“I have my own damn dreams, and they certainly don’t involve whatever fucked up operation you’ve got goin’ on here,” Kenny growled. “Leyla?”

Rolling her shoulders, Leyla’s first matter of business was getting rid of the cowering, shivering prostitute in Byren’s bed. The woman had uncovered her ears and had been listening to their discussion with interest, finally having realized that they weren’t here for her. Her eyes fell across Leyla, and she seemed as if she desperately wanted to speak, but fear was choking her into silence.

So, Leyla spoke to her directly, making sure to soften her tone. “There are more girls here. Where are they?”

“Don’t-” Byren began, but Kenny had his gun aimed before he could make a move towards the woman.

“Downstairs, in the main room.”

“Thank you. Get out of here - take what you need on the way out.”

The woman nodded. She pulled a coat on over her flimsy nightdress, donned a pair of slippers, and ran out the door. There was a moment of silence before Leyla decided to speak again, but her words were interrupted by the sound of hooves against cobblestone, rough voices, and shadows passing through the door and across the wall from outside.

Kenny’s eyes snapped to the source of the sound, and Byren began laughing.

“You’re both idiots. You, especially,” Vibro Byren sent Leyla a death-glare. “Trying to take me on because you're bitter that I blew your parent’s brains out.”

Several things happened at one time. The door to the bedroom burst open, and Byren made a break for it. Leyla fired off a shot that missed and tore through the goose father pillows on his bed, sending tendrils of white flying. Kenny popped off a series of double-shots that embedded themselves in the two guards who were just raising their guns to fire -

As they fell, Byren barrelled past them and disappeared down the hallway.

“Ah, SHIT,” Kenny’s curse was booming. He looked at Leyla for direction, gesturing wildly. “New plan?”

“Go after Byren. Kill him,” Leyla began backtracking towards the busted window. “I’m hitting the lower level and grabbing the girls. We’ll regroup in the courtyard.”

Kenny nodded. He took off after Byren, and Leyla catapulted herself from the window. As she fell, wind tearing at her hair, she shot a hook into the ledge and used her gas to allow herself to float smoothly down to the first floor. The front doors to the estate were abandoned, and two corpses littered the stone stairs. Leyla stepped past them, pushing her way into the building. The great room was just ahead, and she could hear voices - she pressed herself against the wall, peering around the corner.

Leyla recognized Presley immediately. The older teenager had always greeted Leyla with a hug when she’d come to the orphanage - she had a fiery personality and had, on more than one occasion, begged for Leyla to take her on raids.

She was here, now, clad in flimsy lingerie and arguing furiously with one of the guards. Her face was red and Leyla could see a bruise on the side of her face - behind her, four other, younger girls were huddled.

“Sit the fuck down! Byren should be down here in a minute,” one of the men brandished his handgun threateningly. “Don’t make me hit you again!”

Presley reared back and spat a globule of saliva onto the man’s face. His response was immediate, and he swung his gun like a club, catching Presley in the cheek and knocking her flat on the floor.

Leyla broke from cover. She counted three other guards meandering around the room - two by the kitchen, one by the fireplace, and the other, standing over a downed Presley with a sneer on his face. Killing the single guard by Presley was easy, and as her shot hit home, she sent one hook into the throat of the guard closest to the kitchen, using her gas to launch her forward and towards his companion.

Blood gushed onto the hardwood as the hook tore past flesh and cartilage. The man gave a wet, gurgling cry and toppled, accidentally discharging his gun and shattering the lights of the chandelier above. Another buckshot whizzed past Leyla’s face, but her focus was on man still standing and fumbling with his weapon. A single shot was all it took to kill him.

“LEYLA!” Presley’s shriek was urgent, guttural - it screamed danger.

Leyla turned. The remaining guard, the one by the fireplace, had his gun raised towards the girls. A switch went off inside Leyla, and Kenny’s training hit her like a wave - push, click, reload. Kenny would have been proud of her speed, she mused, letting the steaming barrel of her gun hit the floor, the remaining piece slipping into a new barrel with rhythmic precision. She moved before she fired, tossing herself with the aid of the gas in between the guard and the huddled, terrified girls. She wasn’t sure who fired their gun first, her, or the guard, but Leyla’s shot hit home.

As did his.

As the guards head erupted in a spray of crimson, Leyla felt the projectile tear through her. Instead of landing on her feet, like she’d intended, she fell on her side and slid a few yards before coming to a stop against the side of the couch. The impact jostled her, and she felt blood begin to pour from her mouth and nose. She could barely breathe. It felt as if a heavy hand were pressing against her lungs from the inside, twisting and squeezing.

“Fuck.”

                                                    ____________

Byren was fast, but Kenny was faster.

He’d opted to take a left instead of heading towards the lower floor, bounding down yet another long hallway where more of his men were waiting - the bloodbath had been glorious. The walls were painted with streaks of red, now, and Byren was struggling to stem the flow of blood from the bullet wound Kenny had blasted through his thigh.

Half a dozen corpses littered the floor. Kenny stepped over each, sighing deeply as Byren continued to try and crawl away.

“All your men are dead, Vibro, including the pathetic backup you brought. Give it up,” Kenny couldn’t hold the exasperation from his tone. Byren was all talk and no bite. He’d made one pathetic swipe at Kenny with a knife before a bullet had put him on the floor - utterly hopeless, propped up only by his sadistic demeanor towards those less fortunate. It was why he probably aimed for young prostitutes, Kenny mused.

“She must have gotten into your brain,” Byren threw back his head and laughed, tears brimming in the corner of his eyes from the pain of the hole in his leg. “Is she that good in bed, Kenny? I know she used to be a whore. I could tell the moment she shoved her tongue down my throat.”

Kenny felt something stir in his chest, and he rolled his eyes. He stomped forward and slammed his heel into Byren’s wounded leg, dragging a scream past the man’s lips. It was satisfying, and now, it was Kenny’s turn to laugh.

“You really are good for nothin’,” Kenny raised his gun. “She gave me permission to kill ya’. For her parents.”

“I hope all of this was worth it.”

“For her? Yeah,” Kenny let out a sigh. He locked eyes with Byren, not wanting to drag this out any further.

A single gunshot was all it took.

Byren lay dead with his men. Kenny surveyed the wrecked hallway, and the estate had finally fallen silent. Whatever backup Byren had managed to pull together had been nothing more than a few mooks. No MP’s, though Kenny was beginning to wonder if their absence had been deliberate, somehow. It was rare that they wouldn’t come to the aid of some sniveling noble, especially one as relevant as Byren.

Kenny went and picked his hat up from where it had fallen during the scuffle. Sheathing his guns, he made his way down the stairs and towards the great room.

“...lift her up. No, not like that - keep her head elevated so she can breathe…”

Kenny’s heart began to drop a million miles a second.

Five girls were huddled around Leyla’s motionless body. Their state of sparse dress barely phased Kenny. All he could focus on was Leyla, and how her body was so still, save for the occasional twitch of her fingers and her eyes, which were open and staring and locking onto his own as he sank to his knees next to her.

Her shirt was sticky with blood, so much of it that it caused the fabric to cling to her flesh. The girls had removed her breastplate, and one, the oldest looking of the group, was pressing what looked to be a hand towel against the wound.

Kenny had gauged many, many wounds in his life as a squad leader and serial killer. No amount of medical attention in the world could save her.

Hopeless.

“...Kenny?”

The girls stepped away as Kenny moved closer. They were silent, watching with their heads ducked as Kenny took Leyla’s trembling hand in his own. Glassy eyes searched his face.

“I’m right here, sweetheart. I’m here.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t apologize. Ya’ don’t have to,” Kenny let out a ragged breath. He couldn’t cry in front of these girls. It was some code, some unbroken vow he’d made to himself. With a furious wave, he shooed the girls away - the oldest teenager seemed reluctant to go.

“Is...is she going to be okay?”

“No. You girls don’t need to be here to see the aftermath. Go home, back to the orphanage,” Kenny said briskly. When they didn’t move, he barked, “Go!”

They obeyed. When the sounds of their feet had finally faded away, Kenny broke - he leaned down to rest his forehead against Leyla’s, feeling her feebly lift another hand to rest against the side of his face. His tears were wet and hot and his cries were muffled. When he pulled away, there was a smile on her lips.

“This is bullshit,” Leyla gave a wet chuckle. “I wish...I wish we had more time, but I m-made my choice. I...”

“You didn’t waste your life,” Kenny said quickly. “You didn’t.”

“Is he dead?”

“Yes,” Kenny looked towards the staircase leading to the upper floor. “It’s done.”

Leyla gave a soft hum of contentment, and the noise damn near broke Kenny’s heart for good. It was the same hum she’d give in the morning, when she’d be trying to wrestle Kenny from bed. The fact that he’d never hear that noise again wasn’t something ready to accept.

She had to live. She couldn’t leave him. She couldn’t -

“Don’t sulk,” Leyla said. “Don’t you d-dare fucking sulk. You have...dreams to pursue, Kenny.”

“I understand,” Kenny raised the bloody hand in his palm and kissed it fervently. “Shit, I just…”

There’s so much I want to say to you.

“I know,” Leyla breathed.

                                                     ____________

He buried her in the cemetery next to her parents.

Kenny dug the hole himself. It took several hours, and by the end of it, he felt no different. He’d thought doing the act would bring him some closure, a feeling of relief.

Putting her in that hole only brought him more grief, though he’d done a good, good job of shutting it in a box and tossing away the key.

Having Leyla violently ripped away from him had only worked to make the self-hate he had for himself resurface tenfold. He knew he shouldn’t be feeling like shit, even though he knew he was shit - he’d always been shit. Kuchel had always been the good one, not him. He’d always believed that Kuchel should have been the one to survive, not him.

He’d walked away from Levi on his own accord. Uri had been taken due to circumstances out of his control. Leyla’s death had been on her own volition, she’d made it very clear that Kenny wasn’t to blame, but if only Kenny had been better. Stronger, smarter, faster.

He had to be better. He would be better in the future.

But now, right now, all he could think about was the fact that Leyla was a cold corpse wrapped in sheets and he was alone.

He slammed the shovel into the ground. The rectangle was big and deep enough, and for a moment, he could only stand awkwardly and shift back and forth on his feet. It was a funeral of one, he realized.

After a while, he placed Leyla in the dirt and began covering her. That task took half as long but was no more painful, no more agonizing. The tombstone he made was wooden, created using floorboards from the shop. He’d simply sketched her name - no birthdate, no last name. Leyla had never told him the first, and he wondered if she even had the latter.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Kenny turned. It was Mika - the older woman had a small bouquet of flowers in one hand. She was bundled up in a jacket, and despite the circumstance, she had a small smile on her face.

“Come to pay your respects?”

“I wasn’t sure who was going to bury her. News from the orphanage spreads fast,” Mika stepped forward, placing the flowers in front of Kenny’s pathetic little headstone. “She’d told me, many, many times, that this was how she’d die. I just...wasn’t exactly prepared for it to happen.”

“I tried to get her to stop. She wouldn’t. Stubborn bitch,” Kenny snorted. Mika just stared down at the grave, lips pressed into an unassuming line. “She would go on and on about how much this town meant to her. I never got it.”

“She saved so many of us. I wanted her to stop, too,” Mika said somberly. “Even though I don’t think a lot of us would have made it…”

“It’s shit, what they do to you down here.”

“Us,” Mika glanced up at him. “I know you lived down here. I’ve heard the stories - Leyla told me who you are.”

“I’m nobody.”

“Everyone is somebody,” Mika reached out and patted Kenny’s dirty arm. “If you ever need a place to stay, my home is open to you. It’s what she would have wanted.”

Mika turned and left. It was the last time Kenny would probably ever see her again.

He stood by Leyla’s grave for a while, before visiting the spot where Kuchel was buried for the first time in almost a decade. Her grave was just as pathetic as Leyla’s, though hers sported a much more impressive headstone.

When he resurfaced and found himself in Mitras. He threw himself into his squad work, ignoring soft inquiries from Traute. The heaviness in his heart did not dissipate, but he wouldn’t let it affect his work - he couldn’t. He had to honor Leyla’s instructions. Honor her by inching closer and closer to his goals.

Two months passed without incident. It was mid-spring when he was called in to speak with Laurens about a potential squad mission. The short, middle-aged man was utterly reprehensible to Kenny, but he was the buffer between the nobility and the interior MP’s - he held an enormous amount of power, but had always respected Kenny’s autonomy, most likely out of fear. Kenny did what he asked, but only when he wanted to.

“I’m very happy that you took care of Vibro,” Laurens snickered and lifted his whiskey to his lips. “I don’t care how you did it, I’m just glad you did something about that menace.”

“I felt like taking the initiative, considering how he’s been a thorn in your side,” Kenny lied. He kept his face neutral, but he’d realized that the absence of MP’s and Traute’s...insistence that she help had, most likely, all been organized. Byren had far less allies than he’d bragged about.

“His sadism was getting out of hand and making us look bad. What’s done is done. I have a new job for you,” Laurens emptied his glass and ran a hand through his thin, balding hair. “There’s been reports of more thieves - five of them, specifically. Doing the same thing as that man or woman from before.”

“Thieves?” Kenny’s eyebrows shifted ever so slightly.

“Dressed in all black, nabbing rations from the MP’s. Even stole a horse - probably sold it off in the market,” Laurens waved a hand. “I want your whole squad on it. Catch them and kill them-”

“No,” Kenny said.

“Pardon?”

“I haven’t heard any reports of thieves. Things go missing all the time - hell, half the time, it’s the damn MP’s themselves stealing or misplacing rations,” Kenny leaned forward, baring his teeth in a sickeningly sweet smile. Laurens response was just as he’d anticipated; a shuddering gulp, and a raising of both hands. “Come back to me with something less boring. You’re seeing ghosts, Laurens, and nothin’ more.”

“You never say no to a job, Kenny-”

“I’m saying no today,” Kenny slammed a wad of cash onto the table, excusing himself. He began to light a cigarette, letting it hang between his teeth as he spoke. “Drinks are on me. You’re welcome.”

He left Laurens, who remained sitting in disbelief, to go take a stroll through the streets of Mitras.

End

[bellatrixobsessed1]

From Chin To Yon Rah (Part 30)

She knows that there is not a soul left in the world that cares for her. She knows it because if there was, someone would have reached out and taken her hand. Someone would have realized that she was slowly dying and they would have given her at least a little sip of water and a small morsel to eat. 

Nobody does. 

Because nobody cares. 

For all of its heat, she is certain that the Fire Nation is colder than the poles. 

No wonder she herself is so cold.

Her body aches and pains in ways she hadn’t thought possible. Dehydration leaves her muscles cramped without mercy. She puts one foot in front of the other, over and over. Her mind has grown numb to all else. Her head throbs and she has run out of sweat. She stumbles and pitches forward. She doesn’t have the energy to pick herself back up and so she drags herself on all fours. Crawling on her hands and knees. 

She doesn’t think of anything else, just of moving limb after limb until she finds herself at the base of a cliff. The Black Cliffs she realizes, faintly. She drags herself to the shoreline, tears welling in her eyes. 

She greedily laps at the water, feeling just as uncivilized as she has become. She thinks that there is nothing left of who she had been. Nothing good anyhow. She is certain that she has still retained and regained all of the most unsavory bits. 

After helping herself to copious amounts of water, she lets her body fall limp. Arm outstretched, her fingers dip into the water. Water that laps gently at the sand. The cliffs tower high above her, shadows washing over her. Atop them, short strands of grass sway and swish. A fuzzy green to adorn the otherwise craggy landscape.She bunches herself up; at the very least she will have a nice view to go with her death.

She doesn’t expect to wake up but she does. And she awakes to familiar pains. At least she is no longer thirsty, at least the water cools her body. At least she can refill the waterskin. But how terribly her stomach pangs. And the sun burns on her skin sear a bright red. Her skin is already peeling in places, she feels even less human.

She climbs to her feet anyhow, dizzy, swaying. 

She walks for miles, empty headed, reduced to nothing but the aches in her stomach and feet. The throbbing of her head. 

She isn’t going to make it, she isn’t sure why she is trying. 

She wonders if her corpse will be found and if she will be buried respectfully or unceremoniously. Perhaps her body will rot where it falls…

Approaching from the other direction, she sees the first people that she had encountered in days...weeks? 

She wonders if it would make a difference to tell them that she is their princess.

She recalls her haggard state and wonders if they’d believe her.

She approaches them.

She opens her mouth. She knows that she had.

But the blackness overtakes her--she isn’t sure if she had gotten any word out. Her body, spent and at its limit trembles all over even in sleep. She doesn’t wake up for some time. And when she does, she wakes alone. Alone and somewhere entirely new. 

Her heart thunders in her chest; where have they taken her? Is she dead? It’s dark. She chokes out a little sob. She doesn’t know where she is or how she got there. She shivers; what if she has gotten herself mixed up with the slave traders? Agni, can’t the universe at least let her die a free woman?

But her hands, her ankles...they aren’t bound.

Curiously, her middle doesn’t ache quite as terribly. They, whoever they are, must have fed her. 

Azula sits up and the tarp falls away. She looks around and her eyes fall upon a stocky man with a full beard and ample eyebrows. “What…?” She gestures to the tarp. The man catches it before it can blow away entirely.

“It was to keep the sun off of you.” The man says gruffly. He is a soldier. She thinks that she recognizes him. She can’t put a name to a face right now, neither can she put it to a memory.

Still shaking, she rakes her hands through her hair. 

Her hair!

Her dismay must have registered on her face because the man states plainly, “Matted. We wouldn’t have been able to comb it so we cut it.”

She falls back to the floor of the cart. It doesn’t matter. Long, lustrous hair is for the dignified anyways. She bunches herself back up. 

“We’ll take you as far as the outskirts of Caldera City, then you fend for yourself.” 

She manages a small nod but inquires, “why did you pick me up at all?”

“We’re not savages. We’re trying to show the world that the Fire Nation isn’t cruel.” The soldier shrugs.

But compared to everywhere else that she has been, it is. Very much so. 

“But we’re not about to give rewards to someone like you.”

“Like me?” It is an impulse to ask.

“Dirty. Dumb. Useless. You haven’t earned your keep.”

And now she recognizes him. He had been one of Admiral Zhao’s subordinates. Arrogant and dumber than he thinks she. She has earned her keep more than thrice over. It isn’t her fault that the universe keeps stealing it away from her. 

It isn’t her fault that the universe has a vendetta against her specifically. That it is trying to give her the fill of bad luck she had missed. Maybe in another fourteen years--maybe eleven to twelve if the years she has suffered already count--she will fall into another era of fortune. 

Maybe if she can last that long.

“You gonna get a job when you get to the outskirts or are you gonna…”

She doesn’t have the patience to listen to him anymore. Doesn’t have the patience for small minded assumptions and baseless judgements. She doesn’t have the emotional energy to deal with her own former ideals thrown back at her again. And again. And again…

She isn’t sure how many times she has to pay for them.

When it will end. 

When the world will finally acknowledge that she is doing her best. That she isn’t evil through and through; that she is just a woman who wants a home and peace of mind…

The rocking of the cart jars and unsettles her.

She thinks that she has learned it quite a while back but more subtly, kindly; that day she learns not to sneer at those who are down on their luck. She doesn’t know them. They don’t know her.

.oOo.

She is almost overwhelmed by how much attention she is getting. Mostly it is from Sokka who holds her as close as he physically can. But it is from Zuko too, who fixes her some tea (“just the way uncle always makes it!”) and from TyLee who gushes over what a caring mother she is until her cheeks grow red. It comes from Mai who brings her scrolls to read and occupy her mind with. From the servants and Lo and Li...

Caihong hasn’t spoken with her since she delivered the bad news nearly four days ago. 

“Trust me. Children are just like that.” Ursa insists. “She’ll come around.” 

But Azula hadn’t. 

She still hasn’t. 

She is still angry with the woman. 

The woman who had left her feeling neglected and hated for much of her life. The woman who, with uncle in tow, finally made her appearance--and at the worst possible time--two days prior. 

And yet the woman has her hand on the small of her back and rubs in small circles. At least Iroh knows to keep his distance. But really, aside from the lashing of her tongue, there isn’t a particular risk in pestering her. 

Ursa reaches out and grazes her fingers over the scar on Azula’s neck. The princess flinches back and her mother grimaces. 

“What happened, dear?”

“Ask Zuzu.” She is so tired and she doesn’t feel like explaining it again. She really doesn’t feel like dealing with more pity. 

“She’s been through a lot.” Sokka takes his seat at the edge of the bed. “And she can use some fresh air. Let's go for a walk, Azula.”

“I’d rather not.”

“You shouldn’t just sit in your room all day.”

“I’m not. I leave occasionally to get something to eat and have my bath…” 

“What about to socialize?”

Azula crinkles her nose and he laughs. She is in utter distress and he is laughing. “Talking to people isn’t that bad. Look how nice all of the Earth Kingdomers were to you.” He gestures to her journal. 

She takes it in her hands and stares at it for sometime before shoving it into Ursa’s arms. “Talk to me when you’re done reading it.” 

“Azula--!?”

“You haven’t even read the first page yet.” She scoffs. 

“You shouldn’t be so mean to your--”

Azula cuts him a glare.

“Strawberry garden, let’s check on that.” This time it is a nervous laugh. 

She grabs his hand and quite roughly. She doesn’t mean to be so rough, but he doesn’t even flinch. Caihong is already in the garden when they arrive, babbling away with TyLee. She holds Bao up with a delighted squeal. 

Azula sits down next to the child who turns around with a “hmph!” 

“Oh come on, Caihong,” TyLee tries, “Azula really wants to talk to you. She cares about you a lot.”

Caihong folds her arms, “nuh-uh, she makes me sad.” 

Azula’s stomach flutters. 

“Sometimes bad things happen, Cai.” Sokka tries. “She didn’t make this thing happen she was only telling you what happened.” He pauses. “Don’t you think you would have been sadder if that bad guy took you back to WuJing and no one was there?”

Caihong’s pout grows. 

“At least now you have me and TyLee and Zuko and…” He lifts her up and turns her around to face Azula, “you have a mom.”

“My mom died.” She says plainly, fidgeting with Bao’s claws. “‘S not fair.” 

“No kidding…” Sokka mutters. “My mom died too. Sometimes there are just bad people, Caihong. And they take really good people away. But there are lots of other good people and you have to talk to them.” He scoops her up and plops her into Azula’s lap. 

“But…”

“Is Azula a bad person?” TyLee asks.

Azula cringes at the question coming from her.

“Did she do something bad to you?”

Caihong looks up at her with those bright green eyes and shakes her head. 

“Did she do something good for you?”

Another glance is accompanied by an affirmative nod. “Lots of good things.” Caihong mumbles into Bao’s head. 

“So why are you mad at her?” Sokka asks. 

Caihong thinks for a moment, “she told me about the bad people.”

“And you didn’t want to hear it?”

Caihong shakes her head again. 

“Would you have rather heard it from someone else?”

Another head shake. This time her little fingers curl around Azula’s hand. 

“Do you still want Azula to be your mommy!?” TyLee clasps her hands together. 

Caihong pauses, squeezing and squeezing Azula’s hand before nodding once more.  Caihong nuzzles her cheek against Azula’s chest and Azula holds her close. She strokes at the child’s hair. “Bao and I were having a cave adventure.” 

“A cave adventure?”

“Mmhmm, see.” Caihong points at a small hole that she dug right in the middle of Azula’s strawberry garden. The princess sighs. 

“Did you find anything in the caves?”

“Rubies!” She declares, gesturing to the slain corpses of her strawberries. 

“Those rubies weren’t ready to be mined yet.” She mumbles. 

She isn’t sure why, but Caihong laughs. People, she decides, laugh at the strangest things. “You can plant more rubies, mom!” 

Mom…

Mother…

She could have had so much…

.oOo.

Even after tucking a newly happy and babbling Caihong in, Azula is very quiet. Sullen and withdrawn. Sokka sets a platter of roast duck on her nightstand, “you didn’t come to dinner?”

“I’m not hungry, Sokka.”  She doesn’t look away from the ceiling. She absently toys with the curtains draped over her bed. He doesn’t push her this time, though he decides that he will be delivering an extra nice breakfast to her in the morning. He lays himself down next to her. He very nearly springs back up, unsure if they have reached a point where she is comfortable with him laying on her bed. But she rolls over and reaches for his hand. 

“You haven’t even changed out of your day clothes.” He observes. 

She gives a slight shrug, “they’re comfortable enough. I’ve…”

“Slept in worse?” He rolls his eyes. 

She nods. 

“You’re going to be alright, Azula.” He promises. 

“Perhaps.” 

He sighs, they have been so focused on reassuring Caihong that he has forgotten to comfort Azula. He is certain that the princess has been neglecting herself too. “Ya know, everything we said about family applies to you too? Do you want Caihong to be your child?” 

“Of course, Sokka. I wouldn’t have gone through all of that trouble if I didn’t.” 

“Do you…” He swallows. “Do you want a new lover? A new husband?”

She is quiet for a very long time but she doesn’t withdraw her hand. “I don’t want to replace Hajime.” 

“I don’t want to replace him.” Sokka replies. “I want you to talk about him and tell me about him. But I want to be Sokka, I don’t want to take you on the kinds of dates Hajime took you on, I want to…”

She presses her fingers to his lips. “You talk too much. I got the point the first time.” She rolls back onto her back. “I know that you aren’t replacing anyone. You are Sokka. That’s good enough for me.” 

He takes his chances with moving closer to her. Having success, he slides his arm around her waist. She is quiet for another long span. It might have left him feeling anxious had she not let him trace his finger over the line of the scar on her belly. It is rougher in comparison to her otherwise delicate skin. 

“I don’t think that ‘good enough’, is exactly the right phrase.” She speaks again. “It’s…” she trails off. “It’s something new and it’s...it’s just as special.”  

[riskeith]

royaltied (1,292)

Keith is at a party he absolutely doesn't want to be at, but Lance is there to keep him company.

for anon ☆

PAIRING: Keith/Lance

RATING: teen and up audiences

TAGS: alternate universe - royalty; alternate universe - medieval; prince keith; pining keith; knight lance; humor; banter; fluff; getting together

read on AO3 or under the cut

“I can see you, Lance.”

Lance grins and sidles up to Keith’s side from behind the column.

He then tilts his head and peers at him with a playful look.

Keith doesn’t spare him a glance and continues watching ahead, where distinguished guests mingle with each other, and servants carry food and drink on gold platters.

Keith should be down there with them, should be ‘socialising’ with his subjects, but he would really rather be anywhere else.

The only saving grace is that he has some kind of a reputation. He doesn’t know what it is exactly, however he knows it makes others scared to approach him. People will sneak glances at him, talk about him with hands or fans or whatever object they’re holding in front of their mouths, but they’ll never try to actually initiate a conversation.

It’s great.

Only, Keith knows the queen is becoming impatient with him.

She’s finally come to terms with the fact he is not interested in a partner, so she’s now focusing all her efforts into teaching Keith everything it takes to be a good leader.

Which unfortunately involves attending parties he always managed to get out of before.

“Prince Keith, you’re scowling.”

Keith tears his gaze away from Krolia, who’s giving him a look that no doubt reads, ‘Get down here and talk to these people.’, and redirects his glare to Lance instead.

“Why are you even here?”

Lance puts a hand over his heart and pretends to be wounded. He falters back and his silver armour shines under the light. The blue emblem in the middle—signifying his status as a Paladin, a Defender of the Kingdom—reflects brilliantly, matching the ocean in his eyes.

He’s doused in it too, and the side of his face and hair are made to glow. Like this, he appears more regal than Keith does.

This is what they mean, he thinks, when they say the monarchs are blessed and descended from the skies above.

Except, Lance is just a knight.

But that doesn’t make him any less appealing.

It might do even more—with the combat skills he has, the ability to tame and ride any horse, the power in his brain and sword in battle—there is no question as to why he’s popular amongst the court.

Keith turns his face so as to hide his blush, hoping he can successfully mask it as annoyance at Lance’s antics.

“I’m here to guard you, of course.”

Lance’s voice is weirdly gentle so Keith looks at him again, and finds him resting a hand on the hilt of his sword, something he hadn’t noticed before.

He makes steady eye contact with Lance when he tells him, “You know full well I need no protection. And who would be so stupid as to try and assassinate the heir in his own home?”

“Many people, as you’re well aware. And I know you can fend for yourself, but I still have to obey Her Majesty’s orders.”

Keith groans and goes back to surveying the crowd.

He wonders if he can sneak to one of the food tables and grab something then come back without being noticed. Or whether he can just sneak back into his room and be done with the whole thing. He can visit the kitchen on his way too and still get food.

Apparently Hunk is catering for the event, and he makes the best dishes. Improved the castle’s meals immensely when he came here. Made it so that everyone got to eat like royalty, even if they were the furthest from it.

Hunk has a heart of gold—it’s no wonder he’s the Yellow Paladin.

“Which reminds me, she wanted me to tell you that events like these were important, and they’re good opportunities to build your image. ‘Keith may have the skills of a warrior, however he has a long way to go until he can communicate like a king.’”

Lance has pitched his voice higher, and talks with a posher accent.

“Are you trying to impersonate my mother?!”

Keith feels scandalised. Lance just grins at him.

One of the ladies-in-waiting walks past them, and when Lance redirects his smile to her and says hello, her cheeks become redder than the makeup already on them, and she quickly ducks her head and scurries away.

The exchange bugs Keith. He rolls his eyes and ignores the spike of something he doesn’t want to name in his chest.

“Ugh. Why couldn’t you just take my place? You’d be a much better royal than me.”

Keith never wanted the position anyway. And if he wasn’t a prince he could focus all his time and energy into being the Red Paladin. How many days has it been since he saw Red? He hopes she isn’t angry with him.

“You know,” Lance starts in that tone which means he’s about to say something bad, “there is a way I can become royalty.”

“Lance, you can’t get ‘royaltied’. It’s not like being knighted.”

He would though, if he had that power.

Keith would make Lance a prince, or a king, or anything he wanted to be.

Maybe then…

“Are you— You know what, I’m not gonna get mad. But as I was trying to say before you cut me off to insinuate I am unintelligent, if I married into the family, I’d become a royal.”

“My mother is not—”

“Ew stop! Aren’t you supposed to have the best tutors or something? How can you still be so stupid?”

Keith doesn’t lash out at the insult, but it’s a close thing. Lance is lucky Keith is too focused on trying to figure out his words right now.

“Wait. My mum is a widow. She isn’t going to remarry. So are you saying…”

Lance lets out a soft chuckle, and he moves right up into Keith’s space, gazes into his eyes with a gentleness that is definitely not associated with knights, and makes butterflies burst in Keith’s stomach.

“My prince,” and Keith’s heart skips at the possessive pronoun, “I mean this as respectfully as possible, but you are an idiot.”

That’s another insult now.

And once again, Keith isn’t going to do anything about it.

He does want, however, to…

“Lance.”

“Yes?”

“People are staring.”

“Let them. Let them wonder what this is. Whether I’m leaning close because I’m relaying confidential information, or whether the prince’s cold heart has been melted by the knight sworn to protect him.”

Lance glances down at his lips, and nervous laughter bubbles from Keith’s mouth. They’re really, really close.

Also, he would argue that it’s neither.

That his heart has long since been burning, charging him with fire.

Filling him with a desire for someone he’s just learned shared the same feelings.

Keith bites down on his bottom lip to keep from smiling.

“Hey, would you look at that. I got you to smile.”

Ah. It seems Keith has failed to contain his joy.

“Lance.”

“Mmh?”

“Do you reckon you could get us out of here?”

Lance's eyes light up and he stands straight, in the official posture when receiving orders. There's nothing else serious about his demeanour though, this is all just for show.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He then turns and starts to make leave, Keith following close behind.

They maintain this order as they traverse the hallways like they’ve done many times before, but unlike the previous times, as soon as there’s no one around Keith finally reaches out for Lance’s hand. It’s something he’s wanted to do for so long, and when Lance’s fingers curl around his, he knows there’ll be no maintaining that reputation he’s inadvertently created for himself.

Not when even a simple touch leaves him absolutely enamoured.

[babyybitchhh]

Just because someone isn't attracted to a person or character (who are of different ethnicities), doesn't mean they are racist. People have their own preferences in who they are attracted to. That doesn't mean they're racist. That's just their preference in who they are attracted to.

Okay, I’m not gonna allow this to turn into a big thing like the ass eating debate BUT I think you may have taken what I said a little too personally. That wasn’t directed at any one person or even certain groups of people, and I’m not of that opinion based off one or two specific individuals. Rather it’s fandom habits as a whole, and I’ve seen enough to know that by and large black characters are overlooked in favor of their lighter skinned counterparts. I mean, black characters show up so infrequently in Japanese media anyway (and their representation is ... another topic for another day) to the point where it really is easy to see this trend in action. Even if they hit ALL their charm points and have the looks to back them up, they still get mostly ignored. Why?

Heads up, I really got on my soap box with this one so feel free to keep scrolling

I actually saw a blog on here that was writing for Naruto who, with their whole chest, said they’d write for anyone except the Kumogakure characters (and Ino which, ew, I didn’t think someone with such terrible taste actually existed but 🤷‍♀️ here we are) and what do most of the Kumo ninja look like?

(I liked Omoi a LOT and Darui was nothing to shake your finger at either - and Mabui??? Good god, shes fucking gorgeous. Shikaku absolutely should have hit that while he had the chance, I know for a goddamn fact he was (respectfully) looking. )

But anyway I’m just not sure how you can look at something like that and not see color bias - and I used that wording very intentionally. Because even if you (that’s a general you) look at black or otherwise dark complexioned characters and decide they’re just not to your “preference” there’s still an underlying factor at play wherein, on a societal level, pale is touted as being attractive and melanin isn’t considered half as beautiful. It’s conditioned.

I have yet to see ANY self insert content for the above characters, or Ogun. I’ve seen VERY LITTLE for my man Avdol compared to the rest of the cast which, imo, is particularly telling because the Jojo fandom will even lewd a sadistic mold doctor (no shade, Ciccolata fans) but this absolute unit??

Only certain writers seem willing to take him on and me, personally, I’d rather see more smut of him than, say, Polnareff or Kira (no shade, stans)

Also I’ve seen maybe a handful of fics for Tosen PERIOD - not just self insert content - and half of that was pairing him with the big dog guy

Which is, again, indicative of a deeper issue considering how much thirst the light skinned characters generate by comparison.

And also someone I’d REALLY like to see self insert content for is Lock Rock, idk if it’s because he kinda looks like Eric Andre (man crush Thursday 🤪) or what, but I am feeling it

And don’t give me that “but he’s married and has a baby!” Bullshit when we’re out here lewding married man and father of four Enji Todoroki like we’re getting paid to do it. I want to see HC’s, smut, thirst, fics, something! Anything! Please!? (Seriously tho, does anyone have a hookup for ANY content of this man? 💀)

Now, don’t get me wrong here, I’m not innocent either. Ogun will be the first black character I personally write for but he’s not the first one I’ve found attractive nor do I glance over these characters based on their skin tone. If they’re hot, they’re fucking hot! Period!

And I think that’s what this boils down to, because even though you (still a general you) may not look at them and think “ew, they’re black”, if the color of their skin is the deciding factor for you then there is still a problem here.

Are you not attracted to that character because they don’t push your buttons right or is it ultimately because of their pigmentation?

Do you find yourself unattracted to every single black character you see, regardless of their facial features and other characteristics? (For example I’m not particularly attracted to Tosen but Lock Rock?? PHEW)

Ask yourself if there’s a single black person you DO find appealing.

I understand having preferences, I in fact have my own preferences, so that’s not the issue here. It’s also not “no one else is thirsting for Ogun, they’re all racist!” But rather “there is a very observable trend in fandom spaces where every character who appears to be black gets slept on and even if it doesn’t seem like racism on a surface level, the color bias absolutely exists on a broader spectrum and, yes, Ogun is definitely suffering from it”.

That’s it. I wasn’t calling YOU (you, specifically, anon) racist just because you don’t like Ogun, I’m saying that black people are consistently pushed aside in favor of light skinned people and it happens with alarming frequency even within fandoms which just goes to show how deep this issue actually runs. And that’s all just going off of how the CHARACTERS are treated, I haven’t even touched on how black readers/black artists/black writers are treated but then go ahead and amplify that to society as a whole and surely you can see why I’m going to call it what it is.

Plus I can almost guarantee that if Ogun had been “white” (I mean, he’d just be Shikamaru then but that’s neither here nor there cmdkxksksk) he’d have SOME content. Case in point, actual psychopath and certified star lord Rekka Hoshimiya even got thirst content from the fandom whereas the only black man in the series hasn’t gotten so much as a single HC. Trust me. I’ve scrolled to the bottom of his tag at least five times now. 💀

Literally the most I’ve seen is one or two people saying how attracted they were to Ogun and that’s it. A bitch literally cannot feed herself on such meager morsels, especially when Beni’s out here getting his 20th smut fic in a row - which is an impressive number for such a small fan base. Lmao Anyway my point here is that personal preferences are fine and dandy but when I can actually see the same trend repeating itself over and over, fandom after fandom ... there’s definitely something more than preference at play here. 🤷‍♀️

[flowerfan2]

Gray Skies - Epilogue (now complete)

McDanno, 13k, A03 Read from the beginning here

Hi all!  Apologies for taking so long to finish this - in my head it was done, but a conversation on the H50 writer’s discord about WIPs reminded me that I had meant to give it an epilogue.  So here it is - hope you enjoy it!

Summary: What if Danny misses work because some days, he just can’t manage to come in? What if Danny didn’t move into Steve’s house just because he was worried about Steve, but also about himself? Living with depression doesn’t have to mean living without love.

Epilogue

Six months later

Steve’s in the kitchen, having a philosophical debate with himself over whether trying to find pineapple flavored coffee to tease Danny with is worth the effort, when the man himself comes into the room.

Danny’s looking kind of rough, hair tousled and unshaven.  He clearly hasn’t showered yet.  Steve’s heart squeezes a little, and he moves towards Danny, arms opening to catch him in a hug.

“Nuh-uh, none of that,” Danny says, stepping back and shaking his head.  “I’m fine.”

Steve stops in his tracks.  He’s surprised, to say the least.  Since when has Danny not wanted a morning hug?

“I didn’t say you weren’t fine,” he responds carefully, searching Danny’s face for a clue to his mood.

“But you assumed.”  

Danny’s clearly annoyed, even upset, and Steve can’t fathom why.  “No, I just wanted to-”

“Don’t lie.  You took one look at me,” Danny waves his hand up and down his rather unkempt self, “and you decided I needed help.  Next thing you know you’ll be offering to put on some music and bring me peppermint tea, or build a pillow fort, or give me a back rub.”

“And those are bad things?  I was under the impression that you liked it when I did nice things for you.”  Now Steve is getting annoyed too.  “What’s got into you this morning?”

 “Nothing,” Danny says, a little too loudly.  “Absolutely nothing.  It is an absolutely normal morning.”

 “Then why are you acting like this?” Steve can feel his voice rising to meet Danny’s.

 “Like what?  I haven’t done anything unusual.  It’s you who’s being weird – why aren’t you out on a run, huh? Or swimming around the island, or practicing for a decathlon?”

 “Oh, that’s mature.  And I already went for a run, as you would know if you were having a reasonable conversation with me instead of-”

 “So it’s my fault for not being reasonable?  Forgive me, I should have gotten up earlier, been prepared to quiz you on your morning activities.  Sorry I’m not a mind reader.”  Danny scrubs a hand over his face.  “Shouldn’t have bothered to get up at all, if I can’t do it right.”

 Steve doesn’t understand how this has gotten so out of hand.  “Danny, please, tell me what’s going on?”

 “For god’s sake, Steve, can’t a person just want to have a lazy morning for once, without his partner jumping all over him to fix everything?”

 Steve bites back his immediate reaction, which is to argue some more, and point out that maybe a person who wanted a lazy morning shouldn’t have started it by picking a fight as expertly as Danny just did.  But maybe something he’s learned in therapy is actually sticking, because he takes a deep breath instead.

 Danny’s hands are tightening into fists as he watches Steve, and he can tell Danny is about to blow.  But then, remarkably, Danny takes a deep breath too, and removes himself from the kitchen.

 Steve follows him – slowly, respectfully, not like he’s running after Danny to keep arguing, definitely not – and finds Danny staring out at the lanai.

 “It’s raining pretty hard,” Steve says. He’s not changing the subject so much as giving them both a chance to regroup, and Danny knows it, squeezing his eyes together hard and taking another deep breath before answering.

 “Yeah.  Good for the plants, though.”

 “Yeah.  It’s been dry.”

 “Yeah.”

 Steve lets another long moment pass, watching Danny’s shoulders relax and his fists unclench.  “If I come over there and give you a hug, ‘cause I like you a lot and for no other reason, are you gonna snap at me again?”  Steve asks calmly.

 “Asshole,” Danny mutters.  “Come here.”

 Steve wraps his arms around Danny from behind, and Danny leans back against him.  They both stare out at the downpour for a few minutes.  Steve loves the way he can feel Danny breathing, how he can match his inhales and exhales if he tries.

 He presses his nose into Danny’s shoulder, rubs his cheek against the soft t-shirt Danny wears to sleep in, and Danny tilts his head to rest it on Steve’s.

 Sometimes Steve wants to worm his way right under Danny’s skin, line them up together and fuse them tight with no space between them.  Maybe then he’d understand better what makes Danny tick, when to push and when to give him space.  Thing is, Steve hardly ever wants space from Danny anymore, and he thinks Danny feels the same. They’re getting better at this, lifting each other up without either of them faltering as a result, but it takes practice.

 “You went for a run in the rain?” Danny asks, as a burst of lightening races across the sky.  His voice holds nothing of the accusatory tone from just a few minutes ago, he’s just asking.

 “It wasn’t raining as hard before,” Steve says.

 “You’re kind of crazy.”

 “I know.”

 They fall silent again, but it’s more comfortable now.  Steve nuzzles against the side of Danny’s head, where his hair is buzzed short, and Danny hums contentedly.

 “I don’t feel depressed,” Danny says.

 Steve gets that he’s circling back to their earlier conversation, although he’s not sure yet where it’s going. “Okay,” Steve says carefully.  

 “No, I mean it.”  Danny turns in Steve’s arms, gives him a quick peck in the vicinity of his chin, and then steps away, walking over to the couch and flopping down.  “I’m okay. I’m so much better than I was, you see that, right?”

 “I do,” Steve says, and he means it. They’ve been going to therapy, and are each on slightly different meds, and he thinks it has helped both of them. Sure, there are good days and bad days, and Steve’s nightmares have proved difficult to shake, but overall they’re in a much better place than they were six months ago when Danny finally pushed them to get professional help.

 “But I woke up this morning,” Danny continues, “and I just felt, I don’t know, bleh.”

 “Bleh?”  Steve asks, letting a hint of humor color his tone, and Danny smirks.

 “Yeah.  Bleh.”

 “Okay.”

 “Do you get it, though?  Not hopeless, not as if I couldn’t bother to get up.  Not like there wasn’t any reason I could think of to even move.  Just bleh.”

 Steve comes over to the couch and sits down next to Danny, twisting so he can see his face.  “That’s good, right?”

 Danny snorts.  “Yeah, I thought so.  But then I came downstairs and you looked at me with that concerned face and…”

 “You felt like I wasn’t seeing your success.”

 Danny sighs and gazes away.  “I don’t like the idea that I’m always going to be sick, to you.  Someone who needs help.  I don’t like feeling weak.”

 Steve slides a little closer to Danny and bumps their knees together.  “One, you’re not, and I could tell you about a hundred reasons why, although you know them already.  And two, I could say the same thing about me.”

 Danny looks at him now, his nose wrinkling.  “I know. But why do I still worry about it?”

 Steve shrugs.  “Guess we’re just going to have to be patient.”

 Danny laughs half-heartedly and pokes a finger into Steve’s chest.  “Ha. Good one.  You, patient?  We’re doomed.”

 “As long as we’re doomed together, we can handle it.”  Steve leans his shoulder against Danny and Danny leans back, his hand reaching for Steve’s.

 “We’ve been doomed together before.”

 “Multiple times,” Steve agrees.

 “Remember when we dropped that nuke into the ocean from Kamekona’s helicopter?”

 “Not sure I could forget that, Danny.” Steve would love to forget it, it was terrifying, but there’s no chance.  “We still made it back in time for Kono’s wedding, though.”

 “That we did.”  Danny picks up his hand that’s holding Steve’s, and plays with his fingers.  Steve watches him, his heart stuttering as Danny brings his hand up to his mouth for a kiss, and then lets out a long sigh.

 “You know,” Steve starts out slowly, “I really did intend to have a lazy day today, too.  I cut my workout short and everything.”

 Danny rolls his eyes at Steve. “You did?  What does that even mean?  Only two hundred push-ups?”

 Steve glances over at the window as another burst of lightning streaks through the clouds.  “Thought I’d put on some Norah Jones and make something decadent with bacon.  Maybe eat it in a pillow fort.”  Steve raises an eyebrow at Danny.  “Rainy days are good for pillow forts.”

 “Using my words against me,” Danny groans.  “I’m gonna kill you.”

 “I was thinking about back rubs, too…”

 Danny opens his mouth, then closes it again.  “If back rubs are a euphemism for something else, I may regret rejecting them as a potential activity for today.”

 “Maybe yes, maybe no.  Does that mean you’ll reconsider?”

 Danny lets a smile dance across his face, then stifles it in mock exasperation.  “But no peppermint tea.  A guy’s gotta draw the line somewhere.”

 Steve beams, and pounces on Danny, who flops back on the couch and grins at him as Steve covers his body with his own.  Danny reaches for Steve’s head and pulls him down into a blistering kiss that is entirely out of synch with the whole lazy day aesthetic.

 “Sex now, lazy day and pillow forts later?” Steve asks when Danny lets him come up for air.

 “Sounds like a plan,” Danny replies, one hand sliding down to give Steve’s butt a squeeze, grinding them both together.

 “That’s why I love you so much,” Steve says between kisses, “you have the best plans.”

 Danny laughs against Steve’s skin, sending shivers down his spine, and there’s the Danny he knows again, sunshine bright and heart open.  “Love you too, babe, love you too.”  

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer Chapter 28: Don’t Die

The parachutes opened and our fall stopped with tremendous jerk that interrupted our screams at the same time. We were floating down in pitch black.

I was strapped to his front and felt Lu Mingfei reach around my back. He lit a flashlight. For several seconds, the light disappeared into the deep hole. My ears filled with the sound of my pulse and my own strained breathing.

“Are you okay?” Lu asked me.

“I’m hoping I didn’t piss myself just now.”

I felt his body as he laughed against me. “You and me both.”

Ground came into view and we touched down rather gently. He swept his light upwards to reveal a wall composed of a massive female face.

Master List

We both screamed and Lu clapped his hand over my mouth while still screaming himself.

I tried to tell him to unharness me but it was impossible. He fell and I fell on top of him. I got my teeth around his fingers and bit down.

“OUCH!”

“Unstrap me!”

“I’m trying!”

The harness loosened and I leaped to my feet, scrambling to get away from the enormous face. 

“Meixiu!”

The name stopped me more than anything. “Don’t go too far. Relax. It’s the door.”

My breath whistled frantically in and out. 

“It’s okay...” He was telling me, coming close to take my hand. “It’s just the door.”

I looked at him.

“I had the same reaction when I first saw the door to Norton’s palace. It never gets old. Seeing you like this... makes me feel better about it. Nono...” He chuckled. “...she just told me to be quiet and stop screaming.”

I slowly calmed down. “How do we get in?”

“The door is... semi-conscious. The purity of our dragonblood will get it to open to us.” He took a knife from his belt.

My eyes went wide. “Wait!”

He was prepared to cut his finger and froze.

“Let me do it.” I looked at Lu, remembering the words that were forced out of my mouth by the urn’s inscription. If he truly had something to do with the Light King, and this place predated the Light King, then it wouldn’t recognize him.

“Oh... alright.” He handed the knife to me. “Just prick your finger and spread it along the mouth of the face.”

I nodded and approached the lips of the carving. The knife was shaking in my hands. I made a very shallow cut in my finger and squeezed out a tiny red bead. I reached out and spread it on the lips as instructed.

The tiny amount of blood slipped immediately into its mouth. The wall rumbled and the face contorted, its mouth opening wide to reveal a deep cavern.

Lu Mingfei patted me on the shoulder. “Good job!”

I let him walk in first through the mouth then I followed. “We only have a limited time.” 

He started taking pictures. The cave was striated with bright blue lights that emitted motes that fell to the ground like snow. They hummed with energy. “There must be a power source somewhere.” I said.

“This isn’t like any dragon palace I’ve ever seen.” Lu Mingfei lowered his camera, eyes scanning about the space. “We don’t have a map of this area so lets just move forward.”

“What do palaces usually look like?” I followed along keeping an eye out for any sort of danger. 

“They’re like… industrial temples. Shrines that hold the dragon’s power but at the same time, kind of like workshops where they make things.”

We arrived at a three way split in the hall. He suddenly held out his arm to stop me, putting his camera away. “Shh… something’s coming.”

I heard it too. Footsteps.

Lu raised his pistols pointing them squarely at the middle hall. “Show yourself!”

A woman appeared, her hair in long gold-beaded braids, her dark skinned body draped in white linen.

Lu lowered his pistols. “Who… who are you?”

She looked at him, then met my eyes. “You finally found me.”

Even though I’d never seen her before, my heart, my soul, everything in me cried out. “Mama! MAMA!” I let out a single strangled sob and ran to her, throwing my arms around her. “Mama!”

She returned my hug. “Welcome home, baby…”

I couldn’t stop crying. It was her. She was warm, she was real. Her hair, just like mine, her eyes, just like mine. I didn’t care where she’d been all this time and why she was buried in the heart of a mountain. She was here now.

She gently rocked me, holding me tight. “Look at how big you’ve gotten.” She pulled away. “Calm… calm down. Shhh…”

She steadied me, looking into my eyes. “Amazing. You’re more beautiful than I imagined.”

I looked behind me. Lu Mingfei was standing there. He wasn’t smiling, but staring with a distant expression, silent. 

“This is my friend, Lu Mingfei. I got into Cassell. They taught me about Dragons. Mom… you… you left me. Why?”

“I couldn’t raise you here. You would need a family.” She ran her hand under my braids, eyes never leaving me.

“The people you left me with are all dead. I thought you were dead too.” The tears wouldn’t stop. I had to keep wiping my face, my words were interrupted by bouts of crying. The emotions were overwhelming.

She shook her head. “He couldn’t find me here either. Had I gone back, I would be dead.” 

I felt her hand close about my wrist. “Come… tell me about where you’ve been.”

I glanced back at Lu who was walking towards me, eyes still on me. “It’s okay… It’ll be okay Meixiu.” He said very softly.

I nodded to him and then turned back to her. “They saw me with the dragon scale you left me and knew I had to be a hybrid. But my bloodline was unstable, I nearly turned into a servitor.” I glanced back at Lu. “This is S-class secret okay Lu? You can’t tell anyone else…”

He nodded solemnly. 

I continued. “My father is the one who saved me. He turned back my dragonblood and taught me the skill called Release.”

My mother stopped walking. For a moment, I could only see her back. She tilted her head to regard me with one eye. “That… is a very powerful skill.”

“Yes, I know. I only use it to help people. Don’t worry.”

She turned back and continued walking, leading me to what looked like a small living area with a bed, chairs and a desk. “Sit down. I’ll make you something to drink.”

“Have you been here… this whole time?” I asked. I glanced behind me.

Lu lingered in the doorway, glancing at me.

“Yes.” She took a small bit of oil and let it under a lamp, hanging a pot of water underneath.

“How did you survive here?”

“Hybrids know how to survive.” She reached over to a small basket. “There’s not much to eat here. I preserve what I can. I’m sorry but… pickled herbs is all I have right now.”

“You don’t have to feed us. We’ll get you out of here and show you real food. I eat well every day!”

She paused again. “Please… just… let me do this.” She hung her head.

I chewed my lip. “Okay.” That’s right. A mother only wants to feed her child. She never got to feed me for years.

She brought the herbs to me and Lu. I felt bad for taking what little she had but I couldn’t deny her the opportunity to feed her daughter for the first time. I took a bite. It was sour and a little bitter but I forced it down. “It’s good.” I said with a smile.

She raised her hands to my face, under my chin. “Let me just… hold you.”

I did. I rested my forehead against hers. Her breath was sweet. It reminded me of milk. We stayed like that for a few seconds. Lu respectfully stayed silent.

I suddenly remembered. “Oh! The dragon!”

Her eyes opened into mine. 

“There’s a dragon here. It killed people from Cassell exploring this place. We’re here to kill it… and blow this place up. I’m sorry but you’ll have to come with us. It’ll be a hard adjustment. But I’ll help you!”

“Oh.” She lowered her eyes. 

“Don’t worry. We’re professionals. If you could lead us to it… please.”

My mom got up and turned down the fire from the pot of water. She poured a cup for me and handed it over. And then another for Lu, who took it, but didn’t drink.

“This way.”

The water was clean and sweet tasting. I sipped it as we walked, lightly kicking the munitions case. “What does this place mean?”

“It’s a Time Dock. It allowed me to bring you here from thousands of years ago. It’s the only one that survives to this day. If you blow it up, then… that’s it.”

“We don’t have any choice…”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“Are you… sure you’re okay with it?” I stared at her back. She didn’t answer me. “Mom… I’m… I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, my love.”

As we walked, the hallway got narrower and narrower. Until we were walking in single file. But the blue lights got so bright, we might as well have been outside in broad daylight. The hall opened up into a cavern and directly in front of us was the dragon.

It was embedded into the wall, its heart, bright like the sun, protruded and pulsated from the open wound in its chest. It was the power source. I looked up at my mother’s face as she turned around to face me, her deep brown eyes had turned bright golden.

“Mom…?”

She raised her arm, her gaze shifted behind me. I knew, but time had slowed down for me. My lips parted, my voice slowly eked out a scream. “MINGFEI!”

Too late.

My mother’s claws extended like javelins from the tips over her fingers and pierced his abdomen. I watched him double over and collapse.

“He’s a dragonslayer. Not one of our kind.” The claws retracted and whipped out his body, blood gushing from the wound, dripping from my mother’s finger tips.

“NO!” I screamed.

“It’s time to go home. If you have the skill of Release, then Ouroboros has accepted you back as his kind.”

I stared in horror at the large puddle of blood spreading from him. “No!” I whirled on her. “You’re not my mother!”

Searing pain in my arm as her claws hooked into me. She turned and walked toward the dragon in the wall. The pain kept me hobbling after her. My chest and throat constricted so tightly I couldn’t scream no matter how hard I tried.

He wasn’t getting up. He wasn’t moving. Despairing, I could only plead for him to move, to please not be dead.

A portal opened, incredibly bright. My mother was serene. She smiled at me with her bright yellow eyes. “You’ll be alright my love. Once you go home, you’ll understand.”

“I don’t want… I don’t want to go home! I don’t want to go home! Ielia! Help! Help me!”

My mother paused, she looked at me for a moment in complete shock. Then she smiled that loving smile. “Oh my love… that’s my name.”

"You're not taking me!" I screamed. I put all my focus on her, my eyes flaming amber. "RELEASE!"

The dragon in the wall let out a thunderous roar and the entire room began to distort around us. My mother's shriek was like a child's cry and an animal howl. Her dragonblood burst and boiled in my spiritual vision before rolling back like a tide.

“What have you done to me! What have you d-...” Her head suddenly rocked back, a trickle of blood arching from the wound in her forehead. 

The twisting distorted vision stopped. My mother fell, the weight of her body ripping her claws the rest of the way through my arm.

Lu Mingfei lay on the ground, trembling in pain. The pistol slipped through his hands and he fell unconscious.

I was bleeding heavily. I reached for the munitions case, opening it, still openly crying. There was a simple red button that said ‘push to arm’. I pushed it.

Without the strength to stand, I crawled over to my friend, my Senpai, my S-brother. I cradled his head in my arms. If he was going to die now, I would die too. Here. Both of us together.

Everything went quiet.

A young voice echoed in the cavern. “You’re just going to give up… just like that?” 

I lifted my head. A golden eyed boy with dark hair sat next to me, leaning back on one arm. “He’s out cold. I can’t help him. That just leaves you.”

I gaped at him, unsure if this was real or a hallucination.

“I only need him to survive. Not you. In fact, it might be advantageous to me to let you die again. Though… I doubt it. He very nearly admitted his despair and gave up his life to me… until his friends intervened.” He sighed as if annoyed. “It’ll probably happen again. He’s a stubborn guy.”

“What are you talking about?” I lost patience. “If you’re not going to help, go away!”

His yellow eyes turned cold. “Rude. But I’ll explain. I allow him to kill the dragon lords in exchange for a quarter of his life. He’s already given up half to me by destroying Norton and Fenrir. However, if he gives up and admits his utter despair, I will take his life… immediately.”

“There are still two more dragon lords out there. I was a little worried that you would be enough to keep him from relying on me. And well…” He chuckled. “...Now my concerns are very much lowered.”

“But enough. You’re both dying. I will show you the way out. It’s nice to meet you… Meixiu.”

My mind is suddenly invaded with a vision, a snowy field. It was directly above us and sheltered in the shadow of a cliff. I gathered Lu into my arms and focused on that vision. In an instant we disappeared into the gate, into the dark and cold.  

Had Lu not been in my arms, I probably would have just stayed there forever and died in the abyss. My mother was alive but for a moment and she was a monster. 

We burst into daylight, landing in soft powder. I still had my cellphone and managed to call the emergency line without dropping it. “Help! This is Meixiu! Can you get our position? The bomb is armed! The dragon and the palace will go up in flames!”

“Where are you? The explosion will cause an avalanche!”

Where was I? I looked around and then looked up. The cliff. So that’s why.

The ground suddenly shook violently. I heard the roar of the snow coming loose. I threw myself over Mingfei. The sky was swallowed by blinding white. The cliff protected us even as the flying particles of ice stung my face. In less than a minute, it was over. I heard distant roars of other avalanches echoing far away.

“We need medical attention.” I was slurring my words, shivering. The phone was close to my face, partially buried in the snow. I was no longer holding it.

“Agent Meixiu! We’ve found your beacon. We’re headed your way!”

My face was close to Mingfei’s. He was pale, peaceful. I lifted my hand and rested it against his cheek. I closed my eyes.

Visions began flashing by in my mind.

A dark cavern, just like this one. A fight with a powerful dragon, but instead of Mingfei and me, it was Mingfei and Johann and another person with long brown hair.  She used her Dragon gift to float in the air, but then she fell.

Johann reached up to catch her. I recognized that look in his eyes, the open acceptance, the familiarity. 

He gathered her close to his chest. 

She smashed her hand through him, clear through his back.

She looked up at him, her eyes cold and bright yellow. She smiled, touching her feet to the ground, lifting his limp body up by his ribcage. “Didn’t expect that… hm?”

“It’s okay… Meixiu.” Lu’s voice echoed in my mind.  “It’s like this… it’s always like this…”

Another memory: deep underwater a dragon lay dead alongside a young man, a blade through his stomach. Lu Mingfei’s cries of despair were distant, part of the memory. This calm voice was much closer to me. “I killed my own friend. I didn’t know it was him.”

Voices from outside the vision invaded, shouting. I spoke this time, talking to him. “They’ve found us Mingfei. They’re going to take us back to Cassell. I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to wake up.”

“Meixiu…”

“Huh?”

“...don’t… die…”

[trulyhopelessromantic]

image credit here

One Shot Wednesdays -Devil, Devil

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Greetings everyone! This week's one-shot was inspired by 2 separate things. Firstly, I had scheduled in that I would do a Beauty and the Beast piece. Secondly,  the writer's group I'm in on Facebook challenged the following:

Writing Challenge: Pick a song and write its story.

Rules: All the events MUST happen in the story as the song tells.  "Example "Mama he killed a man" A male character must die by another male characters hand. And somewhere along person is telling their mother about it.

Bonus: If you can hold the same feel in the song in your story.

So I chose the song: Devil Devil by MILCK

Lyrics provided below after which the one-shot commences! Enjoy and please comment!

Devil, devil Clever Devil, Devil How quickly they do sell their souls For the feast and the promise of gold But devil that won't be me

Devil, Devil Bones of metal, metal You torture saints with a single glance Make them think, they ever stood a chance

Do not try me Devil, Devil Cannot buy me Devil, Devil You won't make a fool of me, oh no What makes you so special, special To think I would ever settle For that devious dance between you and me, Devil, Devil

Rebel, rebel call me rebel, rebel I walk the plank, not a tear in my eye I won't go down your blushing bride Under the water I'll be sharpening my knife

Do not try me Devil, Devil Cannot buy me Devil, Devil You won't make a fool of me, oh no What makes you so special, special To think I would ever settle For that devious dance between you and me, Devil, Devil

You take the shape of Everything that I'm drawn to You take the shape of Everything that I'm drawn to But your eyes Are dead and red Red as rust

Do not try me Devil, Devil Cannot buy me Devil, Devil You won't make a fool of me, oh no What makes you so special, special To think I would ever settle For that devious dance between you and me, Devil, Devil

“Welcome to my home, Beauty.” The creature’s voice was gentle and seductive –not like you’d expect a tyrant beast’s to be. I had to remind myself what and who I was facing. This was a monster that would destroy me and had almost destroyed my family already. I could not let my guard down.

Therefore I kept my eyes on the polished floor. I would not give into this devil that created temptation wherever it went. My father, bless his kind and pure soul, had been sucked into temptation and thus his price was my life to be handed over to this tyrannical creature that had trapped my father by tempting him with roses; flowers that reminded him of his home.

“I know what goes on in your home,” I responded evenly, “I have no doubt that I am welcome here to succumb to your wiles and any number of worldly temptations.”

His resulting laughter was even appealing. My heart began to thud. “You think you are clever,” he spoke, “I acknowledge this. But I too am clever. We shall see who is successful for longer. You may hold out but in the end I think you’ll find yourself turned to my offers one way or another. And there’s no shame in it.”

“Not to you,” I muttered.

“Many have come before you, this you know. Many will come after you. It is just the nature of life and existence. Everyone has desires, wishes, wants that lie beyond their means. Then they find themselves in my presence and just like that it is attainable.”

“How quickly they do sell their souls for the feast and the promise of gold. But Devil, that won’t be me,” I responded firmly.

He laughed again. “Come then, your chambers my dear lady.”

~

Over the next weeks, I was offered many fine things: gowns, beds, perfumes, jewellery, shoes... even fine foods at every meal and hot baths to take every night. I refused all of them: wearing my own clothing, sleeping on the floor, leaving all of the accessories untouched and only eating bread and butter with the occasional bite of fruit or meat and letting the baths grow cold and untouched.

“What is it you wish for then?” my captor asked when he interrupted my meal sitting by a fire that I had prepared myself in an unused hearth. “I see you do not desire finery or courtly living.”

I remained silent.

“What about books or materials for embroidery? Perhaps a hound or young kitten to occupy your time—“

“You cannot buy me. I don’t desire any of those things. I desire freedom which you cannot and will not give until I give into some vain thing of desire and want. I am not a fool and will not be made one.”

“Say that while looking at me,” he begged calmly.

“I respectfully decline.”

“People who are lying try their best to look away so as the truth of their lie does not escape their eyes or flicker upon their face. I know it well. I do not believe you will be able to speak to me directly and not lie because some small part of you, some piece of you knows there is a chance that I can and will tempt you. You are not weak or wrong for being human, Beauty.”

I did not reply –continuing to eat in silence– and my captor departed. I did not see him for three whole days.

On the fourth day, I took a walk out towards the stream I’d seen where I could wash my clothing. I almost tripped when I caught sight of a young man walking in the distance –his clothes plain and his hair shining pale under a cap. Had my captor captured another unwitting soul? I couldn’t believe it and immediately I pitied the lad who was likely a teen like myself.

The teen caught sight of me and stopped walking too. Then, he raised a hand and waved. His friendliness unnerved me and I turned away from him and hurried towards the stream. Temptation my mind screamed. I would not give in.

I washed my clothes hurriedly, putting thoughts away in neat piles in my mind as I worked.

As I lay out a garment upon a rock to collect and take back to the fortress afterward, I then turned back to the rest of my washing and was startled to see someone standing there. I fell onto my rear in the commotion and saw it was the young lad who was smiling gently at me, holding a pair of hose in his hands that were dripping steadily into the stream. “You almost lost this downstream,” he indicated with a sweet smile and a calm, gentle voice.

“Put it down!” I spat, averting my eyes from his face despite the fact that it was too late and my heart was pounding from excitement rather than the surprise arrival, “Leave me be, devil.”

He ‘tsk’d’ me but did as I’d asked and I scooped the garment up again with anger.

“Why won’t you talk to me, at least? I cannot hypnotise. I have no magic in words alone,” he spoke. “Or is it that you cannot bear to look at me now that you see my form?”

“I have nothing to say. Be gone,” I repeated.

“Beauty. Come now...” The young man crouched to my eye level and I averted my gaze from him. But oh how I wanted to look again. He had been so handsome. I had been drawn to him upon first look.

He drew my chin with his long fingers to make my gaze return to him. I quickly closed my eyes.

“You do realize that by refusing to look at me that you admit I am tempting you, do you not?” he spoke calmly though I felt as though this amused him.

I was so angry at the truth of this that I opened my eyes again and saw his face once more.

“That’s it now. That’s all I wanted, Beauty.”

I grit my teeth.

“Now that you see that I am not terrifying and now that perhaps you are no longer filled with temptation may we take dinner together tonight?”

“Never. I will never accept anything you give me.”

“Ah but I do not have to provide the dinner. You can prepare it; enough for yourself or for us both, and we will sit for dinner at a place of your choosing on these grounds. Why we may take the meal here if you so wish. I don’t wish to trap you in this. I just grow bored and feel myself accepting that you will not give into me so easily and that I must bide time. Therefore let us just exist together in one space for the time of a meal. Is that agreeable to you?”

It wasn’t but I couldn’t help but feel myself wishing to say ‘yes’. He spoke sensibly and offered something that appealed: a simple meal.

“I’ll make it easier for you: I hereby declare that my offer to take a meal is not to be misconstrued as a temptation or trap. It is as I say it is: just to exist for the space of a meal.” He took a perfectly formed finger and crossed over where a man’s heart might be and a glowing X formed there. “I am bound to that term now,” he informed me and everything I knew about superstition told me what he said was true: he was no longer allowed to take my acceptance as a temptation fulfilled and nor could he try anything devious during our meal.

I accepted.

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[punkpoemprose]

Comatose- Kristanna Bodyguard AU

Hi @frenzy5150! I’m your secret santa! So sorry I’m a wee bit late on the posting! I’ve been having an... interesting weekend to say the least. You said that you wanted some hurt/ comfort and some Kristanna being loving dorks, and I intended fully to deliver on both counts. I wrote this in the universe of my bodyguard AU X X which I hope is alright! I hope you like it!

Now with Art by the lovely @epbaker

Universe: Modern Royalty/ Bodyguard AU Rating: T (Teen & Up) Length: 3226 Words

Kristoff combed his fingers through Anna’s hair as Elsa left for the night. They’d said that they would take shifts, but really it was more that they both sat at her bedside all day and well into the night, only taking breaks for the two hours in the day where nurse rotations and other hospital policies asked respectfully that they wait in a room other than Anna’s. They had, however, made the agreement that it made much more sense for Kristoff to stay with Anna between the hours of midnight and 9am as, despite the fact that the hospital had excellent security, particularly in the royal wing, Kristoff was her bodyguard after all. He was also her fiancé, although no one outside Elsa and a handful of others were aware of that.

“I miss you Anna,” he whispered, tucking bits of hair back behind her ear. “Wake up soon, okay?”

Her car had been struck by a drunk driver while she had been returning from a visit to a children’s hospital, and while she’d been able to walk away from the crash, she’d been on the ground by the time Kristoff could extricate himself from the security car following hers. He’d been the one to hold her until the ambulance arrived. He was always the one holding onto her after something awful happened and it made him ill. He’d wanted to be her in car security, but she’d insisted that she didn’t need him there.

Of course, it was because they’d had an argument that morning about when they should be going public with their engagement, and she hadn’t wanted him so close by until they’d both cooled down. He’d expected to find himself in her bedroom before the end of the night to talk things out and work off their stress and anxiety in the way they usually did once her heavy soundproofed bedroom door had closed.

It was four days after that now, and he hadn’t even been able to tell her that he was sorry for asking her to wait, and for presuming to know what would be best for her. The doctors said that she would be waking up “soon” and “any time now” for the last few days, but the tabloids were already running half mad stories such as “Arendelle’s Princess on Deathbed! Queen Silent on Sister’s Condition!” and “Assassination Attempt on Crown Princess??? Palace Insiders Confirm!”. Kristoff frankly, didn’t care if it was all some kind of PR nightmare, or if people in their tiny kingdom were wondering what was going on. He only cared about Anna.

The doctors were optimistic that she’d make a full recovery, but the longer she stayed comatose, the less certain anyone felt. Of course he wasn’t a stupid man, he knew that she must have hit her head fairly hard in the crash, but when people tossed around phrases like “possible traumatic brain injury” and “uncertain recovery period” he felt less confident.

He let his hand shift, trailing his fingers gently over her arm. The doctor had told them that keeping her stimulated would help. It felt strange to touch Anna so openly, and technically without her consent. There’d never been a day that had gone by where she’d objected to his touch, and in fact she was often the one to initiate contact when he didn’t instantly do so. He liked the way she looked at him when he was touching her the way he was now. She’d give him a conspiratorial smile and lean into him, her eyes pleading with him not to stop. He’d thought a couple times since she’d been admitted that maybe she was smiling when he spoke to her or when he touched her, but he couldn’t be sure.

He wasn’t even sure that she’d want him there when she woke. They hadn’t been on particularly good terms before the crash, and it made him wish that he’d just taken the time to talk with her about the reasons why he was worried about making a public announcement of their engagement. He wished that he’d been in the car with her when it had been hit, not that he had any certainty that it would have made any difference, but if nothing else he would have liked to have been there for her when it happened instead of being there seconds after.

The only thing he was certain of was that he loved her very much and that the doctor had said to keep her senses working, and so at least for the next hour that’s exactly what he planned to do.

He held her hand and shifted so that his other hand could trail slowly up and down her arm.

“Do you know how many deliveries of flowers and chocolates I had to send elsewhere today feisty pants?”

He paused, as if she would answer, and was only slightly disappointed when she didn’t.

“You wouldn’t believe how many gifts people are sending you. You’re very popular my Princess. I keep telling the delivery people that we can’t bring the gifts into your room because it’s a safety concern, but I keep having the guards safety check all the sunflowers first. You should see it in here Anna, it’s like the fields we used to play in as kids, you can’t turn without bumping into a sunflower. I think the doctors are going to tell me any minute now that I need to get some out of here because they can hardly make it to your bed.”

He thought he saw a ghost of a smile cross her lips but he couldn’t tell for certain. He had toyed with the idea of kissing her. She’d loved fairy tales when they were young, and it would be just like Anna to wake up to true loves kiss. He didn’t want to test the theory, not only because kissing her lips while she was out felt uncomfortable to him in a way it never had before when she’d simply been asleep, and also because he knew that there would be nothing more disappointing to him than her not waking up if he did so.

Instead he settled for kissing her forehead. He leaned in close to her, just looking at her face for a moment, taking her in, noticing the lack of expression on her face, like a baseline from which he might determine if she was cognizant at all of what he was about to do. He pressed his lips to her forehead, just below her hairline, and let his lips rest there for a moment. He tried to be gentle, he wanted her to feel his kiss, but not any pain on her nearby bruises.

“When you wake up,” he muttered against her skin, “I’m going to beg your forgiveness and kiss you senseless if you’ll let me. Then I’ll go check through all those gifts and let you eat as much chocolate as you want, hell I’ll have some sent over from the castle or that fancy chocolatier you hire for all the parties if you want.”

He pulled back slightly and noticed no changes on her face, something that he had half expected, and yet something that still disappointed him more than anything.

“I hope you can hear me Anna, because I love it when you hold me to a promise. I’d be happy to hear you yell at me about the engagement or about not being in the car with you. I just want to hear your voice baby.”

He shook his head, “You know they don’t want me to keep Sven here with you, but I think I’ll bring him tomorrow. Maybe dog slobber is just what you need, yeah? If you don’t mind being covered in dog hair I’ll fight someone on the rules, I know he misses you and I’m sure you miss him too. He’s just moping around according to everyone else on staff and I think maybe you’d do well to have him around.”

When she still didn’t respond he sighed and readjusted his gun belt and turned his walkie down to just audible. He wasn’t on the clock, he hadn’t been since the accident, but he was still prepared, even as he was about to fall asleep in the chair beside her bed.

“Please wake up Anna,” he said again, this time softer, “Or just give me a sign you hear me please. I’m going crazy missing you.”

He closed his eyes, and almost swore that he felt her hand make the tiniest squeeze against his own.

***

Anna blinked against the light. It was harsh and fluorescent, and it hurt her eyes. They stung anyway, like they were too dry, and her head felt like it was full of rocks. She felt like she was suffering through the worst hangover she’d ever had in her life, but she couldn’t quite recall drinking anything. She only remembered being in a car and now she was somewhere with a strange ceiling and her limbs felt like they weighed a thousand pounds each.

She couldn’t really even move her head though with a little bit of effort she managed to roll it to the side slightly as she blinked her eyes again and again, trying to remoisten them even slightly. When she managed to make a somewhat full head roll to the side she felt the crick in her neck begin to abate and saw a bleary eyed Kristoff looking at her.

She opened her mouth to speak but found her throat too dry to produce much of anything for noise. Her “Kris?” came out like something more of a squawking sound than any real word.

He was off his feet in an instant, calling for someone to come into the room, and just as quickly as he’d moved, there were dozens of people around her, there were lights in her eyes, someone scratching notes down on a clipboard and while Anna was somehow tangentially aware that this was all somehow important, it was also all rather annoying to her, particularly because she couldn’t see Kristoff anymore and she didn’t know any of the people around her.

She opened her mouth to speak again and she, this time with a bit more concentration managed to call out his name somewhat satisfactorily.

Then he was there, on his phone, but there, with one hand extending toward her. She saw the worry in his eyes, the bags under his eyes and his mussed hair. He was usually so put together and calm, so prepared for the worst, so to see him that way caused her great concern. Her arms still felt heavy, but she managed to reach her hand up, albeit shaking as she did so, to take his hand. Everything was too loud or too quiet. She knew people were talking but she couldn’t quite hear what was being said, she was mostly watching their mouths move and listening to her own heartbeat above the din of everything else.

Kristoff squeezed her hand and said something to one of the people scurrying around her. She couldn’t figure out what he had said, but she calmed at the sound of his voice. If he was there things were going to be alright, whenever Kristoff was there everything was alright.

Soon enough the crowd of noisy people left the room, and Anna was quite embarrassed with herself that it was only when the last scrub wearing nurse left that she realized that she was in the hospital. Kristoff was seating himself, once again next to her bed when she started working through the fog in her head to figure out how to ask him how she’d ended up there.

“What the hell?”

When he started laughing she smiled.

“You’ve been in a coma for five days and the first thing you say to me, other than my name is ‘What the hell’? The doctors were worried about you being yourself when you woke up,” he said with a grin that lit up his whole face, erasing the look of exhaustion and replacing it with more of the exasperated look she was familiar with.  “But sounds to me like you’re fine.”

Anna shook her head slightly, it still felt heavy and she had a headache, but it was bearable. It took her a little longer than usual to process what he was saying, but she knew he was teasing her just from his tone, and that was good. She liked it when he teased her.

“I’ve been…?” She was still having some difficulties responding, but she could feel words coming back to her, and her throat, while still scratchy, was no longer at odds with her tongue, allowing things to come out of her mouth more or less as she wanted them to.

“In a coma. Anna you’ve been in a coma. The doctor said you might not remember what happened. Do you remember why you’re here? Do you know where you are?”

“Hospital,” she replied quickly, having already had the thought, “No. I don’t know. Well you said coma, but why?”

He frowned then and she immediately pouted in return. She didn’t like it when he frowned.

“We were on the way back from the children’s hospital on the other side of the city and we got to an intersection and there was a crash. You walked away, then fell unconscious.”

Anna frowned then fully, “Oh no! Was anyone else hurt?”

He shook his head, and a ghost of a smile returned to his lips.

“Just like you to come out of a coma, find out what put you in it and ask about everyone else.”

She nodded, because yes, it was like her, and she knew it, and that felt good.

“No,” he added, “no one else was seriously hurt, just some scrapes and bruises, you took the brunt of the crash. The driver walked away too. He’s in a cell somewhere waiting for a court date.”

She didn’t like the sounds of that, “It’s not serious is it?”

“Drunk driving,” he said back, “And he went through a police barricade to get into the intersection in the first place, so yeah, pretty bad.”

She frowned again and teared up a little bit, “That’s so sad. Does he have a family?”

He rolled his eyes but scooted closer to her bed and leaned in close, “I’d say you hit your head too hard, but no. It really is just like you to start worrying about the family of the drunk driver that put you into the hospital.”

She smiled and made the effort to put her arm up to pull him in closer. She wanted a kiss and she would have one.

“I’m the Princess. It’s my duty to look after my people, even when they make mistakes.”

Kristoff sighed and kissed her. She knew that he knew that arguing with her was futile. She was still a little confused and it was taking her a little longer than normal to think about what she wanted to do or say, but Kristoff knew her and she knew him.

She also knew that she was supposed to be mad at him. Or at least she was pretty sure that she was much earlier in the day, before the crash. He’d made her take the ring he’d bought her off before they went to the hospital. He didn’t want people to know that they were engaged until they made the official announcement, and she’d been ready to go tell the world since he’d popped the question. It seemed silly now, for them to have fought about it. She had wanted to announce it to the world, but she should have been ready to give him a little more time before he had an even bigger spotlight placed on him. She should have been more willing to be flexible.

“I’m sorry we argued,” she said just as the thought came to mind. “But I’m glad you weren’t in the car.”

He huffed, “I didn’t think you’d remember that.”

“I remember everything important.”

He grinned slightly and gave her another kiss, this time on her forehead, “So the car crash isn’t important?”

“Not as much as arguing with you,” she said in return, confident in her answer despite the look he was giving her over it. “I’m sorry, we can wait before we say anything.”

He grinned, “Well it’s a little late for that,” he said gently, “I had to tell the hospital staff I was your fiancé for them to let me stay in the room instead of outside the door and when they didn’t believe me your sister confirmed it. While they’re supposed to be quiet about it, but you know someone will overhear something and it’ll be front page news any day now, if it isn’t already.”

She smiled, “Does that mean I can wear the ring?”

He leaned back and picked up her hand in his own before placing a kiss on her knuckles, “You already are.”

She glanced over to see that she was in fact wearing the ring he’d given her just a few weeks prior. The stone didn’t glitter quite so much under the fluorescents as it did in the sunlight, but it was absolutely her ring.

“I kept it in my pocket after we fought, and I put it on your finger after the doctor’s gave me permission. I hope you don’t mind.”

He seemed almost sheepish, but she was grinning from ear to ear.

“I don’t mind as long as you don’t mind the fact that I’m never taking it off again.”

She felt more awake now. Things were making sense, her brain was getting up to speed and she was able to move a little better.

He chuckled, “Even in the shower?”

She grinned, “Especially in the shower. You never know, some water droplets in the kingdom might not know I’m a taken woman.”

He leaned in and kissed her again, this time letting her take her fill of him. She relaxed into the mattress and sighed against his lips, her hands, while still heavy, moving to card through his hair. They only broke apart when a nurse came in and coughed politely. She needed to check some kind of level and informed Anna and Kristoff both that her royal majesty had just arrived again to check on her sister.

Anna had a feeling that it was less of a notice to her than it was an indication to Kristoff that he might want to unmuss his hair. When she left to fetch Anna a pitcher of fresh cold water, Anna giggled.

“We were caught! So much for constant vigilance Mr. Bodyguard.”

He smiled and leaned back down to kiss her again, “Oh I knew we were getting caught,” he said before resting his forehead on hers, “I just didn’t care.”

Anna giggled again and did her best to straighten herself before her sister arrived. She felt like she needed a shower, and maybe also a tray of chocolate cookies, and also maybe for Kristoff to take her back home as soon as possible and give her some specific affection that she knew neither of them would like very much to be caught in the act of.

[nate-santos]

Am I Alive? || Nate & Remmy

Nate didn’t often let people into his life. The few friends he had were the result of long and tiresome interactions as they slowly infiltrated his careful barriers. His own assistant had never been to his house and never knew where he was from. But something about Remmy felt...familiar. They’d both been through hell, though Nate would never pretend to know what war was like. They seemed like kindred spirits, and Nate wondered if he might actually have found someone who could compliment his neuroticism. Plus he knew better than most how hard it was to acclimate after a traumatic event and he wanted to help any way he could. So he donned his puffiest coat – offering more cushion should something happen. He also made sure to grab his sturdiest umbrella, one that he’d reinforced should any fish come flying down at him. The medical examiner had said four people had died so far, and Nate was not gonna be the fifth. After carefully making his way to Coffee Plus, he set up his little area and ordered a latte, waiting patiently with his hands cupped around his mug for his potential employee to arrive.

The offer for another job was extremely enticing, but Remmy would have to make sure it didn’t pay too much, because they could lose their disability if it did. And then, no more writing off Moose’s food, no more HSA, and no more cheap meds. But Nate seemed like a really nice guy, and he seemed to know how Remmy felt. How hard it was to reintegrate into society after witnessing something that inherently changes you. Inside and out. This time, they made public transport didn’t make them late but catching the bus early. Coffee Plus was the station they’d met Deirdre outside of, and if they didn’t get thrown in front of a car again, then it would already be a better meeting. They’d even tried their best to clean themself up this time. Combed their hair, put on their best jeans-- the only pair with no holes or rips-- and their nice jacket. When they arrived, they had to pause a moment outside, give themself that little pep talk that usually given in front of a bathroom mirror. But Remmy’s room didn’t have a bathroom mirror, despite the landlord saying they were going to replace it two weeks ago. The little bell chimed as Remmy pulled the door open and they glanced around. There, in the corner. Right wher eNate had said he would be. He looked almost as nervous as Remmy felt, bundled up in a puffy coat, tucked into a corner, cupping his coffee. They waved as they approached tentatively. “Nate?” they asked. “It’s um-- Remmy. Hi.”

A large grin spread across Nate’s face as Remmy appeared. Thank god they actually showed up. He shifted in his seat and motioned for them to sit. Nervously, his hands fumbled with the pages of one of his old sketchbooks, one that before this morning he hadn’t looked at in years. It made him want to start drawing again, drawing things that weren’t buildings at the very least. He’d have to thank Remmy for reminding him how much he’d loved doing it. “Hey! Nice to meet you!” He held out his hand, careful not to bump into anything. “I’m so glad you came! You want something to drink?” Nate caught his usual barista’s attention and waved her over. “I personally like the lattes, but everything’s really good!”

Remmy noticed the way Nate stayed tucked into himself and close to the table, but didn’t think it was anything they needed to point out or think about. They took his hand, giving it a firm shake. His hand was large and warm and it reminded Remmy of Dario’s hand. They smiled back. “Nice to meet you, too! Finally.” They slid into the booth across from Nate, glancing around. The coffee shop was small, but had that busy, local atmosphere. It was different from any place they’d been in Bangor. “Oh, um, sure! I’ll just have a um...Americano? Thanks!” Looked back over to Nate once the lady took their order. They had their sketchbook tucked under one arm and their eyes fell onto the one Nate had on the table. “Thanks for um-- agreeing to meet me. And-and offering me a job. And...all that other stuff.”

Nate grinned and took a long sip of his coffee. “Really, it’s nothing. I uh, you seem like good people!” He chuckled nervously, trying not to think about how cold their hand was. He drummed his fingers on the top of his sketchbook and fell silent for a moment. It had been years since he’d shown his drawings to anyone when it wasn’t work related, but this...sort of was. “The job is mostly menial, nothing too exciting, but I could definitely use the assistance.” He shrugged, thinking about the kid currently interning for him. Bobby was next to useless, especially when it came to moving samples around the office. “But whether you take the job or not, I’m happy to have met you!” He began to slide his sketchbook over, his knee bouncing at a hypersonic rate. “Plus I never get to trade art with anyone! Not trade trade, but like...look over pieces...share, that sort of thing.”

“You seem like good people, too,” Remmy said back. This was nice. This felt nice. And normal. Pleasant, almost. They eyed his sketchbook, before setting theirs on the table as well, still holding tightly onto it. They’d never actually shown anyone else their stuff. Except some of the other officers at the camp. “Oh, um-- I’m not sure mine are gonna be really good enough to like...compare to yours, I’m sure. But I’m glad I get to see yours! I’ve never exactly….shared this kinda stuff before. Wasn’t exactly um-- encouraged in the troops.” Stop bringing the mood down, Rem. They shook their head. “But, I mean-- I’m good with menial things! And physical labor. Also good at running errands! Whatever you need! If um-- you decide you like me.”

Nate laughed, wringing his hands anxiously in his lap. “Oh, definitely no comparing here! That’s the worst thing artists can do, really. Everyone’s styles and strengths are so different, like…” He reached out and opened his book to a rather choppy looking portrait. “Soft lines, not my thing. But straight edges, flowing concrete, somehow that I can do.” A hand reached up into his hair and began to twirl. “I’m sorry you weren’t uh...encouraged. Art’s….soothing. Even if what you draw isn’t.” Nate had specifically not brought the book he’d kept right when he first found himself in White Crest. All the images in there were charcoal drawings of pure angst, sadness and desperation. These sketches weren’t great, but they at least weren’t morosely depressing. “Well I already think I like you!” Nate grinned, hoping he wasn’t coming on too strong. He hadn’t realized how desperately he’d needed something as normal as coffee and a job interview, even as lax as this was.

“Really?” Remmy asked. They leaned in a little more when Nate opened his book, gazing in with wide eyes. “Wow, that’s so good! You’re really good.” Hands tightening on their own book. “Oh, it-it’s okay. I don’t think I coulda done anything with it, anyway. I guess it just helps...occupy my mind. I don’t mean like..busy work, or whatever, but yeah-- soothing. Like you said, it’s...soothing…” They remembered how the group therapist had encouraged writing or drawing as an outlet. Remmy had taken quite to it. They liked drawing what they saw, copying down detail in an almost hyperfocus manner. “Well, I think I like you, too! You’re really nice and open and...not weird. If that makes sense? Not that weird is bad! I’ve just met a few...really weird people, too.”

Nate nodded, sucking down more of the hot bean juice. “Like I said, anyone can be an artist. Doesn’t matter if you do anything with it. Just so long as it makes you feel good.” He shrugged, his eyes falling to his lap and his cheeks flushing. Nate never could take a compliment. “I cannot promise that weird won’t end up popping up,” he laughed nervously. What was he supposed to say? I’m normal now but wait till I die in some freak accident and come back trying to eat your brains? “But I’m glad I’m not the weirdest person you’ve met here. I mean, I hope.”

“Hey, a little bit of weird isn’t bad. Don’t they say like, normal is boring or whatever?” Remmy grinned. “You’re not, definitely not. I think the woman I met who tried to push me into a car is the weirdest I’ve met so far.” They shrugged it off. Deirdre was a mystery they didn’t really wanna think about right now. The waitress came back with their order and they took it gratefully, taking a long sip. “Um…” they pushed their notebook over towards Nate, a little tentative, a little shy. “I-if you wanna look.” Though they would never admit it, as they weren’t sure of their own talent, their eye for detail gave them the ability to draw from life fairly well. Thin pencil lines, sketchy figures, and some doodles of animals riddled the sketchbook, an unorganized mess, unlike every other aspect of their life. Some drawings layered on top of others, like stacks of photos. They sipped their coffee again.

Nate smiled, a touch of sadness in his eyes. “I respectfully disagree with those people. I’d take normal over weird any day.” Nate’s life was already filled with too much weirdness. “Wait- like she was shoving you into a car or...throwing you in front of one?” Nate’s brow furrowed and he felt oddly protective over this person he just met. “Of course I wanna see!” He reached out, delicately turning the pages of the sketchbook. It was practically exploding with creativity. Lines and shades he’d seen but never really seen, it was so unlike his personal style and so refreshing. You could see real heart. “These are amazing, Remmington. Remmy? Which do you prefer?” He glanced up for only a moment before being sucked back into the book.

“Kinda...both? I’m not really sure. She said she wanted to test something and almost threw me into a taxi. It was fine, obviously, but I got kinda mad at her after that,” Remmy said, as if getting thrown in front of a car was a normal thing. In all honesty, it just didn’t strike them as odd. After all, they’d stuck their hands into a live case of TNT before. Was getting hit by a car really that much different? They felt their chest tingle as Nate delicately flipped through the notebook, suddenly so nervous they couldn’t even drink their coffee, just hold the cup tightly. “What? Really? Y-you think so?” Swallowed. “Oh, um-- either! Either is fine! I don’t mind.” They rolled their bottom lip between their teeth nervously. “I just...like drawing what I see. Nothing special…”

Nate’s mouth dropped open and he had to actively think about closing it so as not to be overly rude. “She- on purpose?? Yeah! I’d be mad too!” Nate nearly had a heart attack just thinking about the ordeal. But he looked back down to the drawings to distract himself. They were really good. Not professional, but that didn’t mean anything to Nate. He actually felt most professional artists were stuck up and rarely creative. “Yeah, Remmy, these are awesome!” He beamed up at them. “I like what you see.” It had been so long since Nate had really stopped to look around, flipping through Remmy’s sketches was like being unafraid to wander through town. It felt free. “You should keep this up. Seriously. Even if it’s just for you.”

Remmy couldn’t help but give a shy smile. “Th-thanks. I, um-- I will. I haven’t had much time lately between all the...stuff, but...I think I’ll try and make time.” They smiled over at Nate, finally relaxed enough again to sip their coffee. “So, um-- do you like, design the buildings and stuff? Or just do more like...blueprints stuff? I’m not-- sorry. I don’t mean to sound like...rude, but I’m not really sure what architects do, like a hundred percent? I’m totally willing to learn though!”

Nate cocked his head to the side. “Like all the getting shoved towards taxis?” He frowned, hoping Remmy wasn’t befriending people that would willingly shove them into oncoming traffic. It wasn’t entirely unheard of in White Crest, especially in the seedier areas. Yet another reason to never leave his house. “Oh, yeah! It really depends on the project, and most of what I get to do around here is restoring some of the town’s older buildings, making sure they’re up to code while maintaining the historical integrity of the design.” He smiled softly, taking another sip of coffee. “But every once in a while someone wants to build an entirely new house or business, then I get to flex my creative chops.” He sighed dramatically. “Those fun projects don’t tend to come around as often, though, so sometimes I just teach a class at the college.”

“Yeah,” Remmy sighed, “like that.” They still hadn’t parsed out Deirdre’s actual intention with doing that. Was it to see if Remmy would move? If they would let her? If they would get scare and run away? It still baffled them, but she hadn’t been eager to talk after that, so the answer would likely never come. So Remmy would concentrate on the here and now. “Wow, that’s so cool! I had no idea that’s what architects actually did...do you go to the houses and like actually help build stuff? Or do you just do more of the like...drawing and planning stuff?” They couldn’t help but be excited by all this. They’d always loved learning new things, even if public schooling had made them feel inadequate. “And you get to teach at the University?? That’s SO cool!”

Nate frowned, already feeling the twinge of protectiveness over this person he’d literally just met. Remmy had already been through so much, they needed a soft place to land, not a place where people literally threw them into oncoming traffic. But he would drop it- for now. Not like he was in any position to go hunting down this person, and to do what, exactly? Yell at them? Punch them? Neither of those things were in Nate’s wheelhouse. “I don’t do too much building, but I do get to visit the sites sometimes to help oversee everything! A lot of what I do is actually project management and organizing the construction crews, but I’ve gotten to know most of the crews around here pretty well, so they send me progress photos and stuff. It’s really cool to see an idea you have come to life right before your eyes.” Nate paused, smiling sheepishly to himself. “It’s really not that cool, most people find it kinda boring. But I love it.”

“Oh, I think that sounds amazing!” Remmy blurted, without thinking much. They reigned themself back in sheepishly. “Sorry. I just-- I don’t think it sounds boring at all! I think that sounds amazing. Getting to do something that actually changes the world around you...even if it’s just a building. And seeing it in progress? That’s just…” they trailed off a bit. “That’s incredible.” They took another long sip of the coffee, realizing it didn’t much taste like anything. It didn’t fill any sort of need inside of them. Not like it used to. “It sounds kinda lame but...when I was younger, I think I always wanted to do something that could, like, change things for the better. I guess that’s why I thought going into the military might...you know. Be like that.”

Nate’s eyes lit up. He so rarely spoke to anyone, let alone about his work, it was refreshing to be able to gush about it to someone who thought it was as interesting as he did. Well, maybe not as much, but at least Remmy was feigning interest! “I’m glad you think it’s interesting! I could definitely tell you more about it, and I mean, if you come help out, you’d get to see a lot of it first hand, too.” Nate knew exactly what they meant. It was the reason so many of his high school peers had enlisted, not knowing what else to do but needing and wanting to do something. He smiled softly, feeling his body loosen a bit from the tense ball it had been in. “I’m Sorry. If it wasn’t, I mean. Like that. Doing something for the better. Or that’s presumptuous- was it?” And he tensed right back up again as he stuck his foot in his mouth.

“Oh, yes! That would be great!” Remmy said excitedly. They had no idea someone would think they were just pretending, because Remmy didn’t have it in them to lie or pretend. “I’d love to learn all that stuff! Even if I’m no good at it, I think it’d be cool to know!” They sipped the coffee again, their legs twitching excitedly. Remmy had never been this excited before. Was this was it meant to find something they loved? “Oh, um-- I think it was, a little. I don’t um-- it’s hard to explain. I think there’s better ways to change things, but...it felt like my only option. I wasn’t the smartest or funniest or strongest. So...that was pretty much it.” They shrugged. “But, I mean-- as far as job offers go, I um-- think I’d be happy to come work for you. I-if you’re still looking.”

Nate sometimes felt like he was looking in a mirror when he talked to Remmy. They’d only known each other a short while, but he felt like he understood them in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. Sure, some of that might be how excited they were about architecture, but it was something more than that, too. Nate remembered what it felt like to be so lost, heck he was still unbearably lost. But when he did what he loved, it wasn’t quite so unbearable. It was part of the reason he hadn’t tried to just end things. Seeing Remmy light up like this, it ignited something in Nate too. “I would be more than happy to have you join the team, Remmy.” He grinned, holding out his hand more confidently than before. “Welcome to the family.”

Remmy couldn’t remember the last time they’d been this excited. They couldn’t remember the last time they’d felt this hopeful. Sure, it was just an assistant job, helping out around Nate’s firm, but it was more than anything they could’ve hoped for in coming to White Crest. Being a security guard was easy and it paid the bills, but it wasn’t exactly the most riveting job. After being in the field for so long, Remmy had found life wasn’t exciting anymore. Remmy took Nate’s hand eagerly. “Thanks, Nate. Really, thank you so much.”

@whatsin-yourhead

[maniacalmachinist]

PREDATOR/DND STORY (pt 2)

CHAPTER 2:  WARM WELCOME/CURIOUS LOCALS

Gyremar soared over the frozen canopy, powering his wings only when his altitude dropped several meters.  The village had prepared landing spot to accommodate his size several decades ago, the ring itself alive with magics to guide safe passage.  At the circle of light he slowed down to hovering speeds, churning the built up snow and exposing the arcane diagram.

“Hail Gyremar, Steward of Northmount!” Came the shout of a villager, the Mayor he presumed, having not met the recent generation of leadership.

“Well met, citizen of Crosslight . . . “ He dropped to the ground, shaking the rubble as his weight spread across the landing.

The humanoid bowed, “My apologies, I am the Mayor’s advisor, Cindervar . . . he and the elders are at the hall right now.  We seem to have an uninvited guest in the forest.”

Gyre grunted, shifting himself into humanoid form, his body shrinking into what appeared to be a tall half-elf in terms of features, wearing a scaled crown around his head.  The only features of his draconian nature that remained were his horns and frilled spine, along with silvery scales along his forearms and calves, with his fingers and toes maintaining the claws of his kine.  In terms of attire, he wore a blue and white explorer’s garb as he often liked wandering the forest bed, “Tell me what you can while we head there . . . “

Gyre and Cindervar arrived minutes later at the village’s Main Hall, a pair of heavily furred guards opened the door for them, nodding respectfully at the dragon.  Gyre raised a hand in greeting,  “Ah, welcome Silver Steward . . . I’m Mayor Jonas Halfpine,” he offered a hand . . . a gesture that took Gyre years to adapt.

Gyre shook his hand, “Ah, Halfpine . . . it’s been a long time since your clan had need to summon me.”

Jonas smiled with the shake, “It has, Great Steward . . . I’m from the fourth generation, and I’ve only heard tales of you from the records alone.”

Gyre shook his head, “You can stop with the honorifics, you signaled me with an emergency . . . please, do elaborate.”

Jonas nodded, then pointed at two townsmen, making a gesture, “Well, I’m sure Cindervar explained that we found a corpse, a few days travel by foot for us, due east.”  Gyre nodded, curious as to what was left over to arouse such a response from the village.

“Well, a ranger of ours came across it a few days ago . . . “ and with that beginning, the corpse was dragged onto the main floor on a large tarp.  “Our tanner identified it as a wyvern, probably the one that’s been preying on our livestock as of late.”

Gyre looked baffled, the beast itself would require a small team of humanoids to take down. “Even without it’s hide and head, you were able to come to that conclusion?”

Jonas shuddered, “It’s stinger was still intact, and it’s internals have been identified to be this creature . . . the alchemist even confirmed what was venom residue in the tail.  There’s little doubt it’s the same wyvern.”

Gyre made a concerned growl, examining the remains.  He whispered a spell in his ancient tongue, and the carcass floated up, hovering over the floor.  He looked around, tracing what he could, “Hmmmmm, seems a sharp object of some sort pierced it’s throat, and lacerated it’s artery and shredded the brain . . . probably bled to death in seconds.  But fels, a spear that could pierce hide like this would be beyond rare I’d imagine.”

A well kept half-orc wearing smithy attire raised his hand, “We saw that too, and let me tell you . . . this is a degree of craftsmanship that would be near impossible.  Whatever did this would have to be light as a feather, strong as mithril, and dare I say, sharper than a dragon’s claw.  I’ve heard of some places starting to use acid to enhance the edge of a blade, but those are still just stories for the time being.  And I don’t mean magically, but physically . . . making the edge itself paper thin.” Gyre could detect both fear and admiration from the smithy, though whether it was due to his presence or the make of the weapon was beyond him.

“How exactly was this carcass found,  Halfpine?”

Jonas grunted, “From the report, our ranger found this strung up to a tree, wings fanned out, hanging upside down by it’s tail . . . well what’s left of it. And with the blizzard, any tracks were hidden going to and from the site.”  He visibly shuddered, “Truth be told, I’m glad he came back instead of trying to find what did this.”

Gyre grunted, setting the carcass back on the flooring, rubbing his chin in thought, “Has there been any news from other villages and travelers?”

Jonas shook his head, “Not a whisper of anything like this, and the grey orcs of the north have been quiet for months.”

Gyre nodded, “Oh this is similar to their methods, but if only the corpse was found, nothing more, then I’d imagine something else is at work.  They have a flair for, shall we say, more ‘artistic’ expressions . . . there would be more indications beyond a corpse that would identify their handiwork.  Needless to say, I’d recommend reducing travel in and out . . . send messages via magic if you have to, but keep everyone and everything in the village.  My own curiosity has been piqued as well . . . I will settle for a few days in whatever lodging you have.”

A female’s voice chimed in, one of elven descent stepping forward, “I am Sedira Daybreak of the Frostmoon Circle druids.”

Gyre canted his head, “Ah, the Frostmoon . . . what news from the winds and beasts bring you?”

She made a gesture of respect, “Right now fear . . . something unknown has come to our world . . . but it is not from the void, the fells, or even the Underdark.  This fell from the heavens, but it’s not anything divine.”

Gyre raised a brow, “And what did the wyvern’s spirit tell you?”

“That’s the strange part . . . what it described as one two-legged creature, armored, tall, fast, dancing like wind, but having a stench of musky oil.”

“Musky oil you say . . . So something that smells like an orc, move’s like an elf, but tall as a half-giant . . .? “

There was a low chuckle in the room, Gyre grunted still not understanding the humor of humans.  “That, might be one way to put it, Steward Gyremar.  If I were able to get to it’s den in the east, I might be able to glean more.”

Gyre nodded, “I will join in this expedition . . . we’ll venture tomorrow.  Mayor, make sure everyone travels in small groups within the village, and take head counts at random.”

******************************************************

Hachende had stayed in the cave several nights, turning on his shift suit while he rested in a corner of the cave within eyeshot of the entrance.  He had awakened one morning, hearing a telltale sign of sentient life, from several sources.  He crept to the entrance slowly, knowing that his shiftsuit would only be effective if someone wasn’t looking closely at his location.

“What in the cold hells could have done this?  Fucking hell” shouted an ooman in their odd tongue.  Hach engaged his recorder in case it would be useful later.

“Beats me Lars . . . I know Orcs do shit like this, but they usually have totems and whatnot surrounding it.”

“Aye, young’uns . . . this dennae bood well . . . move yer arses and get this boggart on the cart.”  This speech pattern came from a small creature, like an ooman, but it had an almost laughable knot of fur extending from it’s face down to thighs, it’s body mounted on knobby legs.

“Duh, we gonna eat dat?” Now there was something interesting to Hach . . . this creature almost looked ooman, but it’s body was hunched slightly, and it’s lower jaw mounted a pair of vicious tusks.

“No Wagh . . . you’ll get sick . . . remember what happened when you ate that frozen squirrel a few weeks ago?”

“Oh, me forget Lars . . . sorry Lars.”  The massive bipedal expended some effort in getting the carcass down, but it was apparent it had some degree of strength, if a bit clumsy and nearly laughable in it’s movements.

“Mark me words lads, the May’r gonnae probably call the dragon in fa’ this.”

“You really think the Steward will come out for this, Durgo?”

“Lad, if ye’ knew much abou’ Dragons, ya be known tha’ they dennae like competition . . . e’en if they’re good’uns, they dennae like uninvited gue’s.”

The large, tusked one seemed worried for some reason, “Dragon . . . where where?!  Hide!!” then darted behind a tree.

“Dammit Wagh, it’s not here, and this is the village’s ally . . . it’s a friend dragon, ok . . . calm down.”

“Uhh, ok . . . Wagh ok . . . all’s ok . . . Thank ya Ben.“ it wiped it’s brow as if something terrified it, but so far it seemed something else had worried them.  Hach decided to trail this little troop, curious to find out where they were coming from.

“Dammit Wagh, my name is SVEN!”

“Uh, ya name is Sehvhen?”

“No it’s . . . ah, just help me load up this stinking carcass!!”

Hachende followed the four, keeping a fair distance in the trees, leaping trunk to trunk where possible.  He canted his head, wondering why the oomans were so odd here . . . he recalled they had vehicles that spouted fumes but could achieve decent land speeds.  These used a similar principle, but it was pulled by a large beast of some kind that had long hair on it’s body, and a pair of equally large horns on it head.  However, it grazed on local plant life when the group stopped to rest.  

They appeared to make decent time, coming up to an establishment of some kind, though just as primitive as the vehicle they rode.  The walls seemed to be a rudimentary barrier, the local trees cut down, having their branches removed and the ends tapered to points.  There were some guards at the gate of the enclosure, though once again wearing rather rough arms and armor . . . a spear in one hand, and molded metal plates over their bodies, and a larger solid plate held on their forearms. It was then getting closer to nightfall, and another blizzard was starting to roll in.  He decided to sneak into the “commune” as he started to call it, leaping among the trees along the perimeter until finding an unguarded point and climbed up and over, looking over the layout before dropping down.

“Something isn’t right here,” thought Hachende . . . “none of this makes sense.”  He looked around, finding some cover near a large building.  He slowly climbed up, fending against sudden gusts beating against the structure.  He looked away toward the wind to get some idea of the intensity, but only saw a lone heat source off in the distance, standing near what appeared to be a circle of lights.  He made a mental note of the image to examine it later, but kept climbing up the building, peering inside and saw a small gathering. Watching for a while, he saw figures enter the large area later, one of whom appeared to be as cold as the room itself, but faint heat in the thermal vision showed someone of cold nature in a room of heat. This left him baffled, but decided to seek shelter in what appeared to be some building for keeping animals.

[keelywolfe]

Ficlet: Two Days

Summary: Two days in the lives of Stretch and Edge.

Notes: Too long to call a drabble. More Living on the Surface style AU. Depictions of depression and hurt/comfort, domestic. Also, happiness. Also on AO3

 "You don’t want your brother to move in with me." Blue was not one to shy from directness and today was no exception. They were sitting in the Swap brother's kitchen, two cups of cooling tea in front of them, untouched. "My brother is grown adult who can make his own choices." "But you worry," Edge said, softly. "But I worry," Blue agreed. To his credit, he'd never attempted to interfere when Edge and Stretch had slowly, tentatively, begun considering moving in together. They'd been partners for well over a year, it was a logical step in Edge's mind. And yet, there was this, the unspoken concern of a brother brought out before them. "I understand," Edge said. He held his cup in both hands, the lingering warmth soothing to his bones. "I do, you must know that I of all people understand. I can’t just love him for his positive qualities. I realize there must be a few negatives." "A few?" Blue sounded amused, his eye lights sparkling. "Tell me something, what are Pappy's positive qualities?" "yeah, what are my positive qualities?" Both of them startled, looking at the kitchen door where Stretch was leaning, arms crossed over his chest. Edge had no idea how long he’d been listening. He looked amused but Edge had long since learned that meant nothing. "Oh, I don’t think I could name them," Edge said airily, just to see that smile widen. "They are ineffable." Stretch's laugh was appreciative. He stepped into the kitchen to flop heavily against Edge's back, wrapping his arms around him from behind. "hear that blue? he loves me because i’m f-able." "And unbearable."

Blue's smile was genuine enough but Edge could still see the underlying worry in his eye lights. "I have no doubt that you're both, brother. None at all."

Day One

Any of the skeletons that ran under the 'Sans' spectrum had, as various songs liked to put it, issues. They all knew it whether they discussed it or not, with most of them leaning in the direction of not. With that as a known, there were various ways to deal with it. Red responded reasonably well to threats, Sans to forceful encouragement. Neither option was likely on any therapist's docket; it was simply what their brother's had learned through trial and error worked best.  Stretch, on the other hand—  Edge wondered if it was because he was a Swap Papyrus that he was different. Blue had warned him against trying to push against his stubborn nature. The only time Blue had tried it, his brother had simply stopped speaking or eating and it had frightened him enough not to try anything like it again. 

With the door barely cracked, Edge looked out of the kitchen at him. Behind him were a rack of cooling muffins, one of Stretch's favorites and often Edge had to scold him when he stole one while they were still hot enough to singe. The lack of a muffin thief in his kitchen almost disappointing; it left him alone with the soft scent of banana in the air and gently browned baked goods that sat undisturbed.

There was a cartoon playing on the television with singing frogs dancing around the screen and Stretch was curled up on the sofa in a tatty blanket. It gave him every illusion of watching the movie, except the soft, unfocused lights of his eyes.

Edge took off his apron and hung it up, rinsing the bowls and setting them to soak in the sink. He didn't hide his approach, didn't wait for Stretch to turn his gaze from not watching the television to him.

"Can I sit with you?" Edge asked softly. He waited patiently, giving him a chance to reply. What he got was a noncommittal shrug which he decided was assent. He moved to the end of the sofa and that Stretch sat up long enough for him to sit down was encouraging. He settled back down immediately, his skull resting not uncomfortably against Edge's femur.

Slowly, he rested a hand on Stretch's skull, giving him time to protest. Only a faint breath, not quite a sigh, and Edge lightly scratched his coronal sutures. The singing frogs played on and it was some time later that Stretch spoke.

"i’m sorry that i’m like this." A small voice, not at all one he cared to hear from his lover.

"Hm. No," Edge said decisively. That got him a genuine reaction. Stretch looked up at him, startled, "what?" "No, I don’t care for that. I’d rather you said you hate that you’re like this. 'Sorry' implies that it’s somehow your fault while hating it is a reasonable reaction to something you can't control." Stretch gave a soft huff, not quite a laugh, turning his face into Edge's femur. He drew his knees up to his chest and beneath the blanket he looked as small as a Sans, what he was and wasn't. "i hate that i’m like this," the thickness in his voice was as telling as tears. His sockets were squeezed closed, faint orange glow seeping out. "Me too," Edge agreed, "But I love you. And I’ll be here no matter what." "you don’t deserve this." "Neither do you," Edge countered, "And yet here we are. We don't always get what we deserve. All we can do is deal with what we have." 

Stretch fell silent. Sometime later, Edge felt a hand creeping up his leg, fingers gripping the fabric of his pants. He kept petting Stretch's skull and focused on the cartoon frogs singing on the screen.

Day Two

 He'd known all along he was going to be the pack mule. That much had been a given. What he hadn't quite expected was the distance they'd be walking in the near dark.

Not that the dark bothered him in the least; Edge had perfect night vision and he could only assume by Stretch's easy stride that he did as well. The humans around them seem less confident, lighting their paths with flash lights and the occasional cell phone. He was sourly glad they'd gotten a good look at him and Stretch in the lodge. Even he would admit that coming across the two of them in the dark might be slightly less than ideal for an unsuspecting human.

The woods around them were faintly reminiscent of Snowdin, despite lacking the signature snow. They likely contained nothing more dangerous than the occasional deer or rabbit, if they didn't include him.  

"All right, everyone, here we are!" Their guide called from the front of the group. The forest opened up into a large clearing and Edge could see a small pavilion with picnic tables close by.

The nametag hanging from her lanyard declared her name to be, 'Catherine'. She clapped her hands and the low murmur of voices around them died down. "Everyone can spread out and find a place for their blanket. We will be setting up the telescope here at the pavilion and every family will be given an allotted time. I’d like to remind everyone to keep any lights and noise levels at a minimum. No electronics, please."

Despite Stretch bouncing on his toes next to him, Edge waited until the human families had chosen their spots before moving to the edge of the group. Not far away from them but allowing them slightly more distance than the humans allowed themselves.

"did i tell you that the perseids meteor shower is caused because of the swift-tuttle comet?" Stretch's voice was respectfully quiet to the neighbors and yet Edge could still hear the quiver of excitement.

Edge hummed an agreement, spreading their blanket out on the ground. From his pack, he took two self-inflating pillows and another blanket.

"…it's the largest object known to make repeated passes near earth. It's like, 16 miles across!"

"Mm hmm." Edge did know that. He knew because Stretch had told him at least three times this past week, since the day he'd wandered off in the Farmer's Market and returned waving a flyer with gleeful abandon. The flyer had stated the local nature preserve would be having a meteor shower watching event and that everyone was welcome.

'Everyone' had been stressed in capital letters and an italic font.

That had seemed like a strong sign that preparing a backpack would be a wise decision. Blankets, check, camping pillows, check, bottled water, check, a supply of healthy snacks, check. A smaller, secret supply of unhealthy snacks for when Stretch refused the others, check.

Stretch had done his part by leaving his cigarettes the car so he wouldn’t be tempted. "Everyone settled?" Catherine called. "All right, then! Eyes up and we should start seeing things very soon! Also this is a family program and I know it’s dark but let’s keep things rated G, okay?"

Stretch was still chattering softly, a bubbling fountain of meteor shower knowledge overflowing, when Edge pulled him down into their little nest, tucking a blanket around him. He settled immediately into Edge's side, forgoing the pillow in favor of Edge's shoulder. A streak of light flashed across the sky. He felt Stretch jerk, almost vibrating as if his excitement alone would bring others down from orbit. And perhaps it did; another streak of light shot across the sky. Another.  Stretch was shaking against him and Edge was briefly concerned he was cold despite the lingering August heat from the day. He hugged Stretch closer, unnoticed by his lover who kept his eye lights on the star-emblazoned sky.

Soft footsteps approached and Edge forced himself not to tense.

"Are you gentleman okay?" their guide asked softly. "We’re fine." "Okay, great," she sounded genuinely pleased and Edge added her to his tentative tally of acceptable humans. She handed them a small slip of paper. "Here is your slot for the telescope. Enjoy the show!" She moved on to the next group, leaving them in semi-privacy.

"it's beautiful," Stretch whispered, awed.

"It is," Edge agreed, though he wasn't looking at the sky. Stretch didn’t notice; his attention was on the falling stars above them. The Milky Way stretched out before them, awash with brief flashes of light falling to the Earth.

"did you know that most of these are as small as a grain of sand?"

"I didn't," Edge pressed a kiss to Stretch's skull. "Tell me more."

fin

[infinitum-imaginaerum]

Blind //  Yoo Kihyun - 05

Blind Chapter 4 / Five / Blind Chapter 6

“Why did you save me?”

You sighed. It was a question you weren’t prepared to answer in the case that he did ask you, so you weren’t really sure what to say. Opting to just tell the truth, you started, “I’ve been watching you boys for a long time. Off the mountain, I’m not sure what you guys do. On the mountain, I’ve seen the way you are. Every time you drop someone new off, I’m close by, watching.”

He listened to your words carefully. He had a suspicion, that if the legend about your existence was true, that you would no doubt be around.

“I watch the way you stand by hesitantly, like you know what’s going on is wrong but don’t have the voice to say anything. Maybe it’s fear. You’d rather run than confront, especially considering your friend, Jooheon.”

Kihyun smirked with an offhanded chuckle; there was no doubt Jooheon’s name had been thrown around loudly during their times in that clearing.  

“I’m gathering you’ve decided I’m not like them,” Kihyun stated.

You merely nodded.

“But that still doesn’t really tell me why you saved me,” he challenged.

His eyes stared into yours, wanting to pry for the answer; eventually you looked away from him, able to catch your breath again.

“A demi-god has their weaknesses, Kihyun,” you told him, “that’s all I’m at liberty to say right now.”

Kihyun nodded slowly, his plate mostly empty in front of him and to be completely honest, he probably couldn’t even fit another bite if he had tried. When eating as light as a bird, one’s stomach tends to shrink a bit, and that’s exactly what Kihyun was feeling right now. “I’ll clean up,” he offered.

“You should rest,” you fired back.

He looked at you, trying to be stubborn but knew it probably wasn’t a good idea. He bowed his head respectfully and thankfully and removed himself from the table to slink back into the living area while he listened to you clean up. He thought about everything that had happened today from start to finish, and then he remembered his friend Minhyuk. There was no hope, really. Shouldn’t even be thinking about it. Minhyuk was probably long dead by now.

Kihyun tucked himself into the corner of the couch, sinking into the abyss of his own dismal thoughts. He was lucky—Wonho didn’t lie, he had a chance and he made it, but now what could he do? He just sat there and sulked, his head pounding, trying to think too hard before a bottle of cold water was shoved into his hand.

“Keep drinking until you don’t want to throw up anymore,” you told him, taking a seat next to him on the couch, daintily stepping around his feet to make it there. You flicked on the television, full hopes of having Kihyun drift off to sleep and stay there for the night; he could definitely use the rest.

Kihyun’s bottom lip wrapped around the opening of the water bottle you handed him, not that you were peering at him from the corner of your eyes or anything. His head tilted back, Adam’s apple shifting as he swallowed and you had to tear your eyes away to remain sane.

A demi-god has their weaknesses.

Your plan seemed to be working, though it took some time. Kihyun began yawning uncontrollably, barely able to keep his eyes open as his head lolled to the side to rest in his hand. Consciousness was a small concern. “I can’t stay,” he murmured to himself, but hadn’t the slightest bit control over that anymore.

Your eyes shifted focus to him; the boy’s eyes shut lightly, his breathing slowing just a bit as he drifted into sleep. You bit your lip, and then hissed quietly, debating what you should actually be doing. The God half of you was taking care of him, but the human half knew you were being selfish. He must have felt you staring, because he came back to semi-consciousness for only a minute as he shifted, his eyes never opening as he tried to move his weight to his other hand, but didn’t have anywhere to rest it, resulting in him slumping over into your lap.

Instinctively, your hand found its way out from underneath him to stroke through his dark hair, weaving through it to pull it away from his face. You watched his brow furrow as he continued to shift, the hand of the arm he wasn’t laying on taking a hold of your knee to pull your leg further underneath his head. You almost laughed nervously, but shifted for him anyway.

A demi-god has their weaknesses.

You felt as though you’d known him for a lifetime, following him and his crew around the mountain for a better part of four years. You cared for him from a distance, and now you finally cared for him up close. That comforting touch in his hair shifted down over his neck to rub his shoulder. His brow drew together some more, though not so intense. Was he dreaming? Maybe. His throat shifted as he swallowed hard, lips twitching to whatever he was thinking about. You didn’t care about the television anymore—you were utterly focused on him.

A shiver caught your undivided attention and you quickly reached to the back of the couch to drape a throw over him.

“You’re probably sick; you were out in the cold for so long,” you muttered to him. His brows were twitching again, but you weren’t sure it was in response to you. Your hand pressed against his forehead; he wasn’t feverish yet.

The patter of four feet echoed across the floor as your pup emerged from the back room to scope out the situation. You held a finger up to your lips to hush him as your other fingers continued to soothingly stroke the human boy’s hair.

An attempt to move out from under him caused the same hand to tug your leg as he had earlier, not wanting you to go anywhere, you assumed.

“I can’t stay,” he said again. “You can’t leave me on this couch, I won’t leave,” he uttered a little quieter.

“You need to rest. You’ve not gotten adequate sleep in… I don’t know how long. Your body cannot handle this, especially considering the high-stress situations you’ve been in.” Your reasoning was solid. All the evidence pointed to him curling up and staying the night.

“I can’t stay.” He sounded like a broken record.

“Where will you go?” you pressed.

“I don’t know…”

His eyes were open now, staring at nothing in particular but he wasn’t about to look at you, especially as his hand pulled away from your leg. The air was a bit uncomfortable now which lead to Kihyun sitting up, taking the blanket with him. You’d anticipated him to leave, but he didn’t. He just wrapped the blanket around himself and stared at the couch where he previously lay, following it to your legs and up your body, finally focusing on your face.

“I don’t want to invade your home in the evening hours.”

“While that’s quite respectful of you, I do insist, and almost feel as though you’re implying I’ve never experienced a man before.” God damn you were a little too blunt for him, and you were well aware of that when you noted the blush that covered his cheeks as his eyes immediately darted away from you.

Kihyun’s mouth opened to speak, to maybe defend himself, but no words would come out, no matter how many times he tried. After a while, he just closed it, finally gaining the confidence to look at you again. “That’s not what I meant,” he finally said.

“I have to go,” he continued after a few moments of silence. “Thank you kindly for everything, your unwarranted hospitality was enjoyable but more than I deserve.” He threw the blanket off himself and onto the couch then began making his way to the door. You jumped up after him, not about to let him go back out there by himself, at least not tonight. The sun was already down, he had nowhere to go, and in the chance that the guys did see him—he’d be dead in an instant.

“Just stay the night, Kihyun. It’s too dangerous for you right now,” you begged him, but he didn’t seem to be listening to you as he continued his trek towards your front door. He was determined, a trait you expected from him after being caught up with the group he had been with for so long.

A nickel doorknob eclipsed by his hand to turn it. But before he did, he peered over his shoulder at you. “My life has been dangerous,” he reminded you.

“That’s no excuse—” you tried, but he turned and stepped to you, having your back hit the wall across from the door. Your breath hitched in your throat, with nowhere to go as he drew closer.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this is about you, not me,” he challenged; his voice quiet and almost threatening as his face neared yours. Your mouth opened to speak, but you found yourself just as speechless has he had. You were on your toes, trying to sink into the wall to escape him. “For a goddess, you are so incredibly vulnerable right now,” he spoke between gritted teeth, planting a hand into the wall next to your head when you tried to slip out from under him.

He could hear you breathing hard, could feel you want to shrink away from him. Half a step closer and your hand pressed against his firm chest to hold him at least that far away from you. He was much more built than he appeared, his chest slightly rounded with protruding muscle, but you couldn’t possibly be too shocked when his other hand took yours too quickly for you to respond and pinned it against the wall, his fingers laced with yours.

“If I didn’t know better, I would say your earlier comment alluded to you wanting me,” he whispered to you, the previously embarrassed Kihyun gone to try and prove a point to you. Your teeth clenched now, he was just patronizing you.

“Need I remind you that you’re the one who pulled me closer,” you retaliated, speaking through gritted teeth, but in a much more threatening tone.

Kihyun had to stifle a growl for that one. He couldn’t escape that. His eyes bore deeply into yours, his hand previously pinned to the wall next to your head now pinned your other hand and he slid them both up the wall, high over your head. “Maybe you’re the one who’s so vulnerable, putting on this tough guy act,” you suggested with a small laugh, a grin pulling at your lips which only seemed to pick at him more. You could tell from the moment you met him what kind of pride he held, and how he valued it, especially as a man.

His chest was pressed up against yours now, your arms slacked a little bit but now only pinned by one of his large hands, the other taking your chin, pulling it a bit with his thumb to pull your closed lips open a sliver as he stared at them.

“You are so fucking tempting. So don’t think I’m immune to your tantalizing tendencies,” he explained, as if you needed it, as his thumb brushed your bottom lip, tugging on it now and again. “I know if I go out there, I’ll get killed—there’s no doubt in my mind. I’m sick, I’m injured, I’ve barely eaten for the first time in so long. I’m exhausted, and sometimes that hampers my self-control.”

Kihyun’s breath fanned your lips as he spoke, that’s how close he was to you. “If I’m going to stay, could you please change into something else,” he almost begged, but you just looked at him. “I’ll remind you, I am a man who has spent the better of four years cooped up with guys.” You admitted that your dress was a tad low, a bit revealing but you weren’t used to having to dress for anyone except yourself and the forest. Your tongue grazed your lips, pursing them after as you gave him a small nod.

“Yes sir,” you whispered, eliciting a small hiss the midst of a sharp inhale, eyes falling closed before he tilted his head to crack his neck.

“Don’t,” he said, his fingers cupping your jaw now.

Your jaw hesitated in his fingers, mouth opening to look for words.

“Just don’t speak, just go,” he requested, letting your hands go and your fingers slipped over the gauze wrapped around his wrists. He had anticipated you to go right away as his hand dropped from your chin, but you didn’t. You looked slightly up at him for a moment, reaching your hand up to touch his cheek, causing him to flinch as his eyes were still closed. Your same hand slid down his neck, over his collar and chest, slipping a bit fast at his midsection to fall completely to your side; then and only then did you slip from him.

His forehead greeted the wall where you used to be as he leaned against it. “You’re saving my life but it’s almost not even fair.”

[outpostsofbabel]

Demigods and Semi-devils, Chapter V (XIV)

Duan Yu remembered, terrified, how Sikong Xuan had hewed off his own arm after being bitten by the marten.

“H-how can you be so unreasonable?” he blurted. “I’m your owner’s friend!”

Duan Yu cried out as a stinging numbness in his left leg forced him to the ground. He gripped his leg above the wound, hoping to prevent the poison from spreading. But the feeling spread to his right leg, and he fell over. Duan Yu tried to push himself up with both hands, but they had gone numb as well. He crawled forward several steps, the marten still looking at him unblinkingly.

I acted too hastily, Duan Yu thought bitterly. This marten is Miss Zhong’s pet and obviously takes orders from her alone. I probably whistled wrong, too. Now...now what do I do?

He knew he should have done what Sikong Xuan did, and hack off his leg the moment he was bitten. But he had no knife, and none of Sikong Xuan’s courage or ability to make a snap decision. On top of that, he had just learnt Light Steps Over the Waves. With only one leg, he would only be able to demonstrate Light Hops Over the Waves - a rather significant difference.

Duan Yu’s limbs grew rigid, and he knew the venom had spread to his entire body. He found himself unable to close his eyes or mouth, although his mind remained perfectly alert. This is such an undignified way of dying, he thought. With my mouth gaping open like this, I look like either an idiot or a glutton. Well, at least one thing good will come out of it. When Miss Mu finds me like this - bare-bottomed with my mouth wide open - she’ll probably feel so nauseous that she won’t be too upset. So that’s good for her.

Then, Duan Yu heard three loud, bellowing croaks, followed by the sound of something leaping out of the grass. Aiya, it must be the king of venomous beasts, the Venomous Crimson Bullfrog, he thought. They say that your body starts dissolving into a puddle of blood and pus the moment you catch sight of it. Now what do I do? Ah, what a stupid question. Between a puddle of blood and an ugly corpse, I’d much rather be the former.

The croaking came closer. It was now on Duan Yu’s right, although his neck was so stiff that he couldn’t turn his head to look at it. Then, the creature leapt towards the lightning marten.

To his very great surprise, the creature was a tiny frog not two inches long. Its body was a dark red, although its eyes shone with a golden light. The frog’s mouth opened and a loose flap of skin on its neck vibrated. The croak sounded exactly like the bellowing of a bull. If Duan Yu had not seen it with his own eyes, he would never have believed such a small creature capable of such a loud noise.

This creature was certainly well-named, he thought. It sounds like a bull, it’s bright red, and therefore it must be the Venomous Crimson Bullfrog. But the bit about turning into a pool of blood and pus must not be right. Someone must have seen the frog in order to name it, and surely a pool of blood and pus couldn’t have come up with a name.

The marten, catching sight of the frog, looked as if it wanted to flee but dared not. Suddenly, it leapt into the air. The frog gave a loud croak, its mouth opening wide. A spray of fine red mist shot towards the marten, hitting it in midair. The marten arced towards the frog, biting it on the back. Aha, so the marten is the stronger, Duan Yu thought. But no sooner had the thought crossed his mind than the marten fell over onto its back. Its legs quivered slightly, then stopped moving.

Aiya, Duan Yu thought. Even though the marten had almost certainly killed him with its bite, he held no grudge against it. It was he who had rashly tried to tame it without really knowing how. His heart sank as he saw it die before him. Ah, Ms Zhong would be devastated if she knew!

The bullfrog hopped over to the marten’s body and seemed to gnaw at its cheeks. This creature is known as the king of all venomous beasts, and clearly for good reason, Duan Yu thought. Even the marten, which has poison on its teeth, died after biting it. Now the bullfrog is sapping away the poison from the marten’s poison sacs. The marten was such an active, lovely thing, and this bullfrog, with its crimson body and golden eyes, is beautiful too. Who would know that such poison lurks beneath a stunning exterior? Oh, but fairy lady, I don’t mean you.

The bullfrog hopped off the marten’s body and croaked loudly twice. There was a rustle in the grass and out of them wove a huge red-and-black centipede, perhaps eight inches long. The bullfrog leapt at it, but the centipede scuttled out of its way with the frog hopping desperately after. It croaked loudly, preparing to spray its poisonous red mist. The centipede changed direction abruptly, heading straight for Duan Yu’s gaping mouth.

Horrified, Duan Yu could only watch, frozen as the creature got closer. He could not even close his mouth. Hey, you. You’ve got it wrong, he thought. This is my mouth, not a centipede burrow... But it was no use. The rustle was right in front of him now and the creature wormed its way up onto his tongue. He nearly fainted with fear. Then a prickly, numb sensation told him that the centipede had crawled down his esophagus and into his belly.

As the saying goes, misfortunes never come singly. With a leap, the bullfrog was now sitting on his tongue. He felt an icy chill and knew that the creature was chasing the centipede into his belly - and moving even faster than the centipede had because of its smooth skin. Duan Yu heard faint croaks coming from his belly. It was the most tragic thing, and also the most ridiculous happening, and Duan Yu didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. His flesh, however, was too stiff for him to even make a sound. So he lay there, silent tears pouring down his cheeks and onto the ground.

His stomach began to roil. It hurt horribly, but Duan Yu couldn’t tell if the bullfrog had finally caught its nemesis. Hurry up, brother bullfrog, he thought. Catch the centipede and crawl out, for there’s nothing else in my belly for you. A little while later, his stomach ceased its churning and he no longer heard the muffled croaks. The pain, however, was worse.

After several minutes, Duan Yu’s jaw suddenly snapped shut of its own accord. He teeth closed on his tongue, which immediately shot back into his mouth with the pain. Surprised and delighted, he called aloud: “Brother bullfrog, hurry up and get out!” He opened his mouth, waiting motionless for a long time. He even tried croaking loudly, hoping to persuade the bullfrog out. Perhaps the frog was ignoring him, or perhaps he had croaked in the wrong way. Either way, it refused to budge.

Panicking, Duan Yu dug frantically in his mouth with his fingers. Of course, nothing happened. But halfway through he realised with amazement he could move his hand. He got to his feet, marvelling that the numbness had faded away without him noticing. “Strange, very strange,” Duan Yu said out loud. This king of venomous beasts obviously means to make its home in my belly, setting up a cosy little abode for itself. Well, let me throw it a welcome party.

He stood on his head, hooking both feet around an overhanging tree branch. With his mouth wide open, he violently shook himself up and down. But it was no use. The bullfrog didn’t budge. In fact, it hadn’t even moved. It seemed perfectly happy to live in his stomach until it died of old age.

Perhaps both the bullfrog and the centipede have been digested and become food, Duan Yu thought. Their poison has probably neutralised the marten’s poison. It’s weird, though, that my stomach stopped hurting after eating such venomous creatures.

He did not know the truth - that most poisons, when they entered the bloodstream, were quickly lethal. But if the venomous creature was consumed, there would be no harm done as long as his internal organs were not injured. Similarly, a person bitten by a venomous snake could suck out the venom to survive. As there are thousands of poisons in the world, this was just a general rule, of course. Although the bullfrog’s venom was lethal, it could do absolutely no harm to a person’s digestive system. In fact, Duan Yu’s digestive system was the lethal poison - the bullfrog had been digested into a bloody pulp.

Duan Yu stood upright and walked forward a few steps. Suddenly, he felt a strange heat in his stomach, as though it contained live coals. He cried out in surprise. The heat swirled here and there, unable to dissipate. Duan Yu gagged, trying to dispel it that way, but nothing came up. He took a deep breath, then expelled it hard, hoping to force the remnants of the bullfrog out of his body. But the breath caused the heat to flow into his Ren Meridian instead.

Alright then, Duan Yu thought. Brother bullfrog, your shade will not leave me. Very well, my inner energies shall become your resting place. I shall respectfully await your decision to finally poison me. He continued to breathe deeply, feeling the warmth flowing into his meridians along what was now a well-travelled path. Soon, he felt nothing at all.

Despite his adventure, Duan Yu did not feel tired at all. He picked up several handfuls of earth and stone, covering the marten’s body with them. Little marten, I will bring your mistress back to your grave to hold a memorial for you. We will catch several venomous snakes as an offering, he thought. You bit me just now, but thoughtlessly. I won’t tell your mistress about this, for she will surely blame you. Rest easy.

On making his way out of the woods, Duan Yu saw Zuo Zimu running past him with sword drawn. He must be chasing after Miss Mu, he thought. I cannot leave him to it. Duan Yu quietly trailed the older man. As he now had the strength of seven Boundless Sword disciples in his body, he made it up the peak quite easily. Zuo Zimu, whose mind was only on his son’s safety, did not notice he was being followed. But Duan Yu was afraid he would turn and see him, or perhaps seize him as hostage for Miss Mu. He kept his distance.

Halfway up the mountain, Duan Yu thought of how he would soon meet Miss Mu, and his heart quickened. But he was also afraid that the Crocodile God would hurt her in his impatience. So he called out to Mu Wanqing in desperation.

[transcendencenyu]

terrie // help me

The best part about having a blind roommate: she sees nothing you do.

The worst part about having a blind roommate: she hears everything you do.

And while I agree, being able to walk around the place without so much as a bra on is the most convenient feeling in the world, she also seems to know everything, especially when Stephen and I are fighting. I admit, I can be a bit petty, but arguing over whether or not it is socially acceptable to avoid your friends for over a week was more of a top priority for me, which was strange, arguing about this while being in the other room, ignoring said friend. Yeah, things had changed, and I was allowed to grieve just as much as she was, but wasn’t I supposed to get over myself and be the friend she needed me to be now more than ever? Stephen thought so, and he was usually right. Still, I wasn’t about to admit this to him. While Paisley went out to spend time with Clint, I was finally able to appreciate an empty dorm for once in my life, doing what I did best: sulking. I was refusing to speak to Stephen, refusing to speak to anyone, and all I had was a boring romantic movie and vanilla bean ice cream, my only friend.

I’d just heard my spoon begin to hit the bottom of the pint when Steve called me, and for the first time that week, I’d decided to answer. The spoon was in my mouth, curving around my tongue and causing a lisp, but I didn’t care as I asked, “Hello?”

“Hey, Terrie? I wanted to know how you are, but that’s not the reason why I called.” I could hear the concern in Steve’s voice before he’d even gotten my name out of the way, and Steve didn’t usually sound all that worried. He’d always tried to conceal it, but maybe he’d decided against that knowing I wouldn’t listen any other way.

“Then why did you call?” I asked, staring at the spoon now, staring back at the warped reflection of the ceiling as I tried to busy myself with anything other than my friends. I had found that curt replies made for the shortest of conversations and no expectations to follow them.

“It’s Bucky. He’s in one of those moods again, and I can’t seem to get him out of it. I was wondering if maybe you could.. Lift his spirits a bit like before. Look, I know it’s a lot to ask, but--”

“It’s fine.” Already, the ice cream had been thrown away, and I was in my room, putting a bra on. Not that the boys would care, but it always seemed to be one of those unspoken rules I’d chosen to follow since moving from an A cup to a B cup. “What’s his current state?” I’d set the phone down after almost toppling down, attempting to keep the phone pressed to my ear while simultaneously slipping on skinny jeans (which were in fact too skinny for someone who ate a pint of ice cream once a week), and already, the noises coming through since putting Steve on speaker made it clear how close and how poor Bucky was.

“He’s drunk, if that’s what you’re asking. I tried to sober him up half an hour ago, but he’s not really listening to anyone at this point.”

And I couldn’t help but laugh at this, because Steve had known Bucky longer than anyone else; naturally, he was the one I’d want to have by my side if we were going to tame Buck, but to know that Steve had failed? He’d no sooner ask me to take Paisley to another party and I’d tell him that it was a good idea. “What do you want me to do? Make him play truth or dare with only himself and hope he doesn’t realize it until he’s too worn out to argue anymore?”

“We just.. I really need you over here, Terrie.” He didn’t have to say much else for me to listen.

“Alright, Steve, but you owe me.” I hung up and finished getting on my socks and converse, wondering how I was supposed to calm Bucky down. He just sort of lost it when he was in these moods, like he was someone completely different, like he didn’t even remember us at all. It was something that, up until the incident with Paisley, I’d never seen. I sorely wished I never had to.

On most days, I just walked to their apartment, but on days like these with a box of popsicles I’d bought for and then stole from Paisley in one hand and a collection of classics that Buck preferred to watch, like Dirty Dancing, the way to get around was by catching a ride. Since I knew practically no one, the only person I could turn to was Bruce. The poor guy drove farther to pick me up than he did to drop me off, but after a long period of sighing and, “I’m not sure what exactly it is you want from me,” he agreed and begged me to make more friends. I accepted his terms and conditions. He made sure to add, “Oh, and I’m sorry about Paisley,” confirming my thought that this was a pity ride, but none of it really mattered. It wasn’t like I’d need another pity ride from him again.

Once we exchanged solemn glances, I got out of the car and headed into their apartment, immediately regretting it and wanting to spend the night with Bruce more than anyone else, but he had unfortunately already left. I checked.

“Steve..?” I called out. Soon enough, I could hear him making his way into the living room, and then I saw him, and I suddenly didn’t know what to say.

“Terrie, thank God you made it. I was beginning to worry,” he said, but his eyes trailed down to stare at the conveniently red, white, and blue colored popsicles in my hand. I couldn’t stop staring at his chest. I’d seen him shirtless before (hell, Buck said he’d show me pictures of Steve naked, which I respectfully declined..), but for some reason, it was different this night. He was different. In a way, I suppose we all were. Things were different now. “Are those popsicles?”

I guess I continued to stare, because Steve had gotten closer, close enough to rest his hand on my shoulder. “Terrie?”

“Y-Yeah,” I said softly, looking up at him. “I thought the situation required outside-the-box thinking, so I.. brought a box full of dyed, frozen sugar. It usually fixes Paisley’s and my own problems.”

And he stared at me incredulously for a while, and then he smiled, shaking his head full of doubt. “Well, thank you. Bucky’s in his room, trying not to get sick for the third time tonight. Do you think you’ll be alright for a few minutes while I change?”

The part of me that’d always had a crush on him sighed, but I quickly reminded myself I was a committed woman and nodded, setting the movies down. “Sure thing.. Stevie.” For added effect, I punched his arm and went on into Buck’s room, praying I saw nothing too unsightly.

“Buck?” I asked softly, closing the door behind me. There was nothing but a dim lamp on, and Bucky was lying across his bed, torn between laying vertically and horizontally, having adopted some sort of amalgamated form in the middle. The trash can from the kitchen was on its side beside him, but it didn’t appear as though he’d used it. Quite ironically, he was trashed.

“Terence?” I’d only begun to narrow my eyes, although I was confused at the time, before he looked over at me, and with a messed up grin, he corrected himself: “Terrie. What brings you here? Wait, what are those?” He sat up before I could open my mouth to speak, and he motioned me to come over. With hesitation, I inched forward and handed him the box, and upon his fingers grazing over mine, I took a few large steps back. I’d picked up this habit of sometimes hating people’s touch, probably from the negative reinforcement I’d began receiving from Paisley, and from knowing I’d done that to her. I especially became wary of drunk people, even the ones I trusted most. Ever since Steve had helped me out, I swore I wouldn’t drink much again, and I’d kept my word.

“God, I love these things.” That was really all Bucky said, because he proceeded to eat an entire box full of popsicles (I told myself I’d buy Paisley another box later. I figured she wouldn’t notice). In the meantime, Steve had opened the door without me noticing and touched my arm lightly, causing me to back up rather than move away from the touch, bumping into him.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” I whispered, but both of his hands were on me now, and you’d think I was the one who’d been violated the way I cringed.

“Terrie, are you alright?” Steve asked softly. I closed my eyes and tried counting to ten, fighting the panic that had built up over the last few weeks, and then I nodded.

“I-I’m fine. I’m just worried about Paisley.”

“Why are you worried about Paisley? ..Terrie, where’s Paisley?” With each second, Steve seemed to become more and more concerned, almost amazed at my ability to continually lose the blind girl, but I shook my head.

“She’s with Clint tonight. I just.. I was having a bad feeling, is all.” Steve observed me for a while more and nodded, letting the conversation (and me) go.

“If we’re going to spend the rest of the night worrying about Paisley, can I at least make a drink that looks like this?” Buck asked, holding up one of the last popsicles up for us to see. Both of us, simultaneously it felt like, said, “No, Bucky,” and thus, our pity party began.

[exosmutxoxo]

THE CHOSEN ONE (PART 3) 🌙

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone for giving this series of mine so much love and wonderful feedback! I really hope all of you will continue to support this, because it’s one of my favourites at the moment x as of now, enjoy Part 3 and happy reading! Cheers

Genre: Dystopian/Action/Smut in later parts

Word Count: 9529

Soundtrack: Castle // Halsey

Synopsis: In the land of Exotica, thirteen kingdoms reign. Thirteen different types of bestowed powers, thirteen different types of abilities, thirteen different types of gifts. In this world, everybody is bestowed with only one ability. So what happens when The Chosen One is discovered to possess all thirteen powers at once?

Part 1 | Part 2 | PART 3 | Part 4

‘I’m not a queen. I’m a storm’.

I should’ve expected the explosive reaction from Father from the moment I asked for Jongdae’s hand in marriage back on the battlefield in the Bloodbath lands. I should’ve known that this is the biggest mistake I could ever make. I should’ve known that bringing the Lightning prince back to the castle of the ruling kingdom would only make things worse than they already are.

And yet, I do it anyway. After allowing Yixing to set his magical hands on my electrified skin and pour the warmth of his healing power into me, causing the lightning scars to shrivel up into nothing, I’d left the Bloodbath lands with Jongdae in tow, my teeth clenched together anxiously. Despite my defiant refusals to ever get married, I know deep down in my heart that there is no way for me to weasel my way out of this one. In the end, Father will pick a husband for me anyway, so I don’t have much of a choice. I rather be coerced into a marriage with a man of my choice as compared to throwing all my options away.

I keep these comforting thoughts in my head as Father paces in front of me and Jongdae, his steely eyes glaring down at us as we kneel before him, our heads bent respectfully. As I sneak a sideways glance at the prince, the sight of his structured side profile throws up an image of Taeyeon, her features so similar to his. I force myself to remember why I’m doing this in the first place, curling my fingers into white-knuckled fists in my lap as Father parts his lips to yell at us. Or to be more specific, at me.

“Beloved daughter”, the Metal king spits venomously, “I did not raise you this way. I did not raise you to tie yourself to a Bloodbath rat like this one kneeling in front of me now. What in the world made you think that it would be alright for you to drag this scum into our household?”

At the corner of my eye, I see Jongdae flinch at the harsh words, the faintest of sparks curling around his fingers and disappearing as quickly as they’d appeared. I don’t blame him for the rage roiling on in his heart.

Lifting my head, I lock eyes with Father and set my jaw defiantly. “As a matter of fact, you never raised me in the first place. Ever since I was young, you left me to my own devices, not caring enough to train me properly. You couldn’t give a shit if I keeled over and died in front of you. All you give a shit about our goddamned kingdom and the control you maintain over Exotica. I’m not even a daughter to you anymore, I’m just a pawn in the foolish game you’re playing!”

Jongdae inhales sharply, not daring to breathe a word beside me as he awaits my father’s response. In a way, I feel kind of sorry for the Lightning prince; he doesn’t deserve to witness a household battle between me and Father, especially since I know from experience that things are capable of getting ugly if neither of us back down.

“Syona, stand up”. Father commands.

I refuse to do so, keeping my legs tucked beneath me stubbornly as I avert my gaze from him, staring hard at the marble flooring glimmering up at me. My reflection in the tiles stares back at me, bearing the image of a silver-haired girl with evident misery in her dark eyes, the burn scars seared into her collarbones leering back at her tauntingly. She doesn’t look like me anymore. She looks broken and defeated, two traits which I’ve never possessed in my entire life. I’m not used to looking broken and defeated; I’m used to radiating intoxicating power, addictive beauty and intimidating authority.

Not anymore, I guess.

I’m torn out of my thoughts as Father lunges forward and drags me to my feet, the blades of his fingernails cutting through the sleeve of my leather jacket and sending jolts of sharp pain through my arm. Before I get the chance to react, he brings the palm of his hand fresh across my face, his steely fingernails withdrawing blood from the tender skin of my jaw and leaving behind a hideous bloody gash. The impact of his slap causes me to stumble backwards, my head spinning nauseously and from somewhere in the distance, I hear a frightened cry.

Mother and Yuri scurry into the throne room, barely noticing Jongdae’s meek presence as they rush up to me with a box of tissues in hand. Yuri hooks an arm around my shoulder, dabbing at the gash adorning my jaw with a tissue while Mother grasps at Father’s arm with a pleading expression on her face, glittering tears flooding her eyes.

“Hyunsoo, don’t be so hard on her”, Mother begs, her nervous gaze darting in my direction. I ignore her, too used to her unnecessary blubbering by now. When will she understand that crying doesn’t get us anywhere? Father and I are doomed to be at each other’s throats for the rest of our lives and as long as I openly defy his rules, there shall be no peace in the household of the Metal Kingdom.

“Don’t tell me how to treat my own daughter in my own castle!” Father roars, pointing an accusing finger at me. His dark eyes crinkle with rage and the silver chandelier overhead starts to tremble from the wrath of his power, threatening to come crashing down. On Jongdae’s head, no less.

“You told me to pick a man”, I spit, ripping myself out of Yuri’s grasp. “And pick a man, I did!” Swinging around, I jab a finger in the direction of Jongdae’s kneeling form stubbornly and look Father, Mother and Yuri directly in the eye. “I picked Kim Jongdae of the Lightning Kingdom”, I say, my voice building up with every word, “and there’s nothing any of you can do about it”.

“Why him, though?” Yuri pipes up gently, laying a hand on my arm. “I’m sure he’s great, but is there any particular reason for why you’re so adamant on marrying him, Syona?”

Jongdae’s electrified eyes rest on me, boring right into my soul and that shit-eating Chesire grin ghosts his lips again. He’s eager to hear what I have to say, especially after being left in the dark of my reasons behind choosing him. I can’t spit out the truth in front of all of them, I can’t tell them that I’m doing this for a girl I barely know. They won’t understand what’s it like to be Taeyeon. To be me.

But all the same, I cannot avoid part of the truth.

“I want to marry him”, I begin slowly, every word sticking in my throat, “because he’s capable. He’s powerful, he’s lethal, he’s a weapon. Based on what I saw on the battlefield, Kim Jongdae is deemed suitable for the crown”. I pause, hesitating for a split second as I catch my betrothed’s eye, a spark bursting between us. “He’s deemed suitable to be king”, I finish off quietly. “Long live King Jongdae of the Lightning Kingdom”.

Father collapses back on his throne, a hand pressed to his forehead as he stares at me in disbelief. Mother rushes to his side, concern written all over her creased features. “Oh, Hyunsoo”, she murmurs in his ear, stroking his arm tenderly. “Perhaps you should let Syona be. She’s old enough to decide for herself. We should be celebrating! Our darling daughter has finally found a suitable husband!”

Mother’s incessant gushing goes unnoticed. Instead, Father pokes a trembling finger in my direction, horror spreading over his face as realization dawns on him. “Y-You battled with a Bloodbath boy?” He stutters.

There is no other way to put it. I nod solemnly, shoving my hands deep into my pockets and slowly backing away from the throne uncomfortably. “Two of them”, I mutter, suddenly remembering the danger of Luhan’s telekinesis ability.

Yuri shakes her head wordlessly, although her penetrating gaze is fixated on Jongdae’s kneeling form rather than on me. In response, Jongdae sits up a little straighter and stares back at my cousin, his Chesire grin fading away and replaced with a grim line. My sharp eyes don’t miss the weak trace of purple electricity buzzing at his fingertips and I’m suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to step in front of Yuri and protect her from the wrath of the prince’s lightning.

“Get out”, Father finally growls out, startling everyone in the throne room. He disregards the stares directed at him, zeroing in on me. “Get out of my sight, Syona!” He roars, his voice bouncing off the cold castle walls and echoing in my ears. “And take your Bloodbath rat with you!”

Jongdae scrambles to his feet, bustling past me and yanking at my arm as he does so. He’s all too eager to reach the double doors and leave this damn prison behind, and the feeling is mutual. With three pairs of eyes fixated on me, I let Jongdae drag me out of the castle, the doors slamming shut behind us. I hear the steel latch flip over on the other side, an indication that Father has locked me out of my own home.

I don’t even have time to feel indignant before Jongdae slams me back against the nearby pillar, sparks raging in his eyes. “What the fuck are you playing at?” He demands, giving me a not-too-gentle throttle.

Something in me snaps and I shove him backwards furiously, my claws threatening to reveal themselves again. “Are you that fucking daft?” I sneer. “Back on the battlefield, I asked you to marry me and I meant every word”.

“Why on earth would you even choose me?” He snaps. “And what made you think I would even want to tie myself down to such a hot-tempered bitch?”

“Call me a bitch one more time and I’ll slit your throat”, I hiss, pressing the blade of my fingernail against his collarbone threateningly. “Don’t flatter yourself, Jongdae. Do you think I want to tie myself down to you? Fat chance, you poorly wired circuit. I’m not doing this for either of us”.

“So why bother with this?” Jongdae asks, spreading his hands out and showing off the sparks snaking down his arms in the process. “I hate your guts and you hate mine. I don’t see this marriage bringing prosperity to Exotica”.

I say nothing for a long while, turning my back on him and leaning against the pillar with a sigh. My gaze wanders over the land, searching for a particular kingdom and when I locate it, my heart skips a beat. The Lightning castle glows a regal purple in the light of the full moon and on the highest floor, I see a faint glow in one of the bedroom windows. The silhouette of a slender figure is evident in that particular bedroom and I know without a doubt that it’s Taeyeon.

“Syona”, Jongdae says severely, placing an electrified hand on my shoulder. For once, I don’t shudder away. Instead, I let him turn me around to face him and I have to swallow the lump in my throat before speaking.

“Don’t you see your sister’s misery, Jongdae?” I say quietly.

He blinks in confusion. “Taeyeon? What has she got to do with this?”

“She’s miserable”, I say, louder this time. “She’s due to turn eighteen in a few months’ time, which means your parents are going to marry her off like how mine are doing to me now. How can you just sit and watch that unfurl before your eyes? How can I watch that happen to her? She deserves her freedom. Every girl in this godforsaken land deserves freedom”.

“That’s hypocritical”, Jongdae shoots back indignantly. “What about you? You preach about freedom but you’re willingly giving yours away for the sake of your damned kingdom. If anything, you’re being selfish-”

“Do you think I want to marry you in the first place?” I explode, almost screaming at this point. “I desire my freedom and my future as much as the next girl. But do you think that’s fucking possible, especially after you witnessed how my father treated me like I’m just a mere object rather than his own flesh and blood? Do you honestly think I have a choice in this? If it weren’t for your sister, I wouldn’t give a fuck about your existence!”

He recoils in offense, wrinkling his nose at my harsh words. “Damn it, Princess. Fucking ouch”.

I sniff, folding my arms over my chest tightly and stomping down the grand staircase, the night breeze wafting through my hair. He clips the back of my heels as usual and I turn around to drive my elbow into his chest irritably, to which he emits a string of light chortles. “Loosen up, Princess”, he says smugly, draping an arm around my shoulders chummily. “I don’t like women who sulk 24/7”.

“And what makes you think women like you?” I retort, shoving his arm off and putting as much distance between us as possible. “Like I said, don’t flatter yourself”.

“Sourpuss”.

“Narcissistic prick”.

“Welcome to the daily lives of the future King and Queen of Exotica”, Jongdae drawls in a reporter’s voice, holding up an air microphone to his lips.

I pull a face at that, inwardly shuddering at the thought of spending the rest of my life with Kim Jongdae. If the mere thought is unbearable, what more the actual marriage? “Don’t bring it up”, I sigh, slapping at his faux microphone in annoyance. As soon as my fingers brush against the back of his knuckles, a jolt of electricity shoots up my arm and I wince, pulling my hand away hastily. The sparks are definitely something I’m going to have to get used to.

We trudge through the woods in tension-filled silence, bypassing the serene Peace Kingdoms as we do so. The long shadows of the towering trees blanket over us, keeping us hidden from any prying eyes and I’m silently grateful for the cover, since a few people from the Peace Kingdoms are lounging by the training field, chatting animatedly to one another.

Im Yoona is perched on the edge of the training field’s barrier, her mouth wide open in joyous laughter as she indulges in an animated conversation with her cousin Kim Jongin. The two teleporters don’t notice as Jongdae and I slink by, remaining hidden behind the thick trunks of the trees, but we are close enough to catch snippets of their conversation.

“Who do you think Syona is going to select as her husband?” Yoona asks casually, the question hovering in the air like a dark cloud.

Jongin considers this for a moment, his head tilted to the side in deep concentration. “I have no idea, to be honest”, he admits. “Syona is…unpredictable, to say the least”.

That earns a hearty chuckle from the female teleporter and she tosses her chestnut brown hair over one shoulder, eyes glittering like an eager cat. “Let’s make a bet, shall we, Cousin?”

“You still owe me five bucks from our previous bet!” Jongin protests good-naturedly. “I always knew Junmyeon keeps a written list of his water puns under his mattress”.

“Don’t be so mean about him”, Yoona laughs uproariously. “I’ll pay you the five bucks soon. But as of now, I’m going to place my bet on Do Kyungsoo as Syona’s future spouse. What do you think?”

“No way, she’s not the type to go for the grounded ones. I’m thinking of Chanyeol, since they’ve been friends forever”.

I almost throw up at such an absurd idea. Chanyeol? Seriously? Why does everyone equate friendship to marriage? In fact, I’m almost on the edge of stomping up to the two of them, falling to my knees and screaming out the ugly truth of everything until I feel Jongdae’s fingers close around my arm, his sparks digging deep into my skin as he yanks me through the woods and away from the two chatting teleporters.

I shake him off impatiently, barking out a bitter laugh as soon as we’re out of earshot from the two cousins. Tears sting the back of my eyes and I turn away from Jongdae coldly, refusing to let him see me collapse under the weight of my crushing reality. “Marrying Chanyeol”, I spit out venomously, “what a fucking joke”.

“I’ve heard a lot about your close-knitted friendship with the Fire prince, Princess”, Jongdae says calmly, folding his arms across his chest and staring down at me intensely, his stormy eyes burrowing deep into my soul. “He seems like he holds a special place in your heart”.

I laugh without humour, my lips curling into a sneer. “There is no heart for him to hold his place in”.

“Harsh”.

“Just like reality”, I snap back, digging my blade-like fingernails into my palms. Pain bleeds through me like a poison and I loathe it to the core. This pain is nothing like I’ve experienced before; physical agony has always been a part of me, part of my nature and I’ve been wired to tolerate it. But emotional pain? Now that is something my brain refuses to acknowledge, something my body refuses to grow accustomed to. It’s worse than having lightning tear its way through your broken skin, worse than being burnt by the hottest flames.

I was raised to deflect pain with the toughest of lead shields, to inflict pain with the sharpest of steel blades. I definitely wasn’t raised to deal with the crushing reality of heartache and emotional turmoil, so this is a whole new world to me, an unpleasant shock to my system.

Jongdae is studying me carefully, his wired gaze tracing over every inch of my face. Without warning, he takes an abrupt step forward towards me, so close that I hear the lazy hum of electricity beneath his skin. His hand curves around my cheek, so fleeting and light as though I’m made of porcelain and liable to shatter into a million pieces if he doesn’t tread carefully.

Leaning in, he puts his lips dangerously close to my ear and the words he utters sends a defensive chill through me. “Hearts have no place in reality”, he whispers. “Remember that, Princess”.

A strange sensation floods through my veins at his proximity, as though I can literally feel his electricity pouring through my bones like water from a jug. It’s like as though I can just reach out and pull the ability straight out of his fingertips and use it for myself and the feeling is an odd one, unfamiliar and unusual. Shrugging the sensation off, I proceed to shove him away, deliberately ramming my shoulder against his form and ambling off into the darkness of the woods without turning back.

I have no idea where I’m going. All I’m aware of is the buzzing twitch of electricity beneath my skin and it’s frightening me beyond words. It’s like as though I have a storm contained in me and it’s ready to burst at any given moment, like an uncontrollable hurricane. My fingers tremble, a given sign that something is amiss, and I hastily slip my hands into the depths of my pockets, bowing my head against the icy wind.

Jongdae says nothing for a long while, just quietly trailing after me as I cross over the boundary and onto Bloodbath lands without an ounce of hesitation. My sneakers crunch on dead grass once more, attracting the attention of the ebony ravens perched on the branches of the nearby trees, their beady eyes honing in on me. These jet-black birds belong to the Flight Kingdom, well-trained weapons utilized during battles or wartime. But as of now, these creatures of nature are settled on the branches peacefully without a care in the world, their sleek bodies curved elegantly as they observe my presence. The Lightning prince emits a low whistle at the hovering ravens good-naturedly, chuckling to himself as they flutter their wings in greeting, their ebony coats glimmering in the light of the full moon.

“My parents will be pleased to see you”, he pipes up casually, falling into step with me and grazing my arm with the tip of his fingers. Sparks jump out of his fingertips, bleeding through my skin and instantly, all my senses stand to attention as though acknowledging the foreign feeling of power.

I flinch slightly, jerking my arm away from his touch. “Why do you say that?”

“Anybody would be ecstatic to welcome the ruling princess of Exotica into their household”.

“No surprise there”.

He pauses, gripping onto my arm to hold me back and I inwardly cringe at the physical contact. “You know, Syona”, he says evenly, “not only are you incredibly hot-tempered, you’re astonishingly full of yourself as well”.

That earns a sneer on my part. “Get used to it, Jongdae. Humility gets you nowhere”.

By now, we’ve reached the double doors of the Lightning Kingdom’s castle and automatically, my hands curl into tight fists in my pockets. The last time I saw the King and Queen of the Lightning Kingdom was when I was six years old, when the ruling Metal Kingdom was passing through the land and I was curled up in the carriage, my head poked out of the tiny window curiously and drinking in the sights and sounds of the crowds of Exotica. The nobles of the Lightning Kingdom were dressed in robes in various shades of regal purple, white and blue, signifying the different colours of lightning the entire family possessed.

From what I recall, Jongdae takes after his father’s facial features while Taeyeon takes after their mother. But in some eerie way, the Lightning siblings still resemble each other, their eyes full of explosive power and spunk. Who would’ve thought that I, the princess of the ruling kingdom, would be at the doorstep of the Lightning Kingdom and bracing myself to speak face-to-face with the King and Queen themselves today?

I don’t let the nerves overwhelm me. No princess would allow outsiders to witness her anxiety, her fears, her weaknesses. No, I wasn’t raised to be weak. I was raised to radiate power, confidence and boldness. I’m the royal daughter of a kingdom crafted out of steel blades and silver, and no way am I letting the peasant rulers of a measly electricity household hinder me from getting what I want.

The double doors swing open upon Jongdae’s command, a gush of electricity-charged air smacking me in the face as I square my shoulders and march into the castle, my sneakers thudding against the parquet flooring. The spark-filled atmosphere fills my veins like poison and I feel it all the way down to my toes, setting my nerves on fire as I stride towards the two thrones at the very end of the room, head held high and proud.

Scandalous whispers and hisses shoot through the group of royal administrators as they crowd in a corner and stare at me with wide eyes, their knees practically knocking together. At the mere sight of such blatantly displayed fear, a smirk creeps its way up onto my face, nearly splitting my face in half as I do my best to hold in my raucous laughter. These are the people of the Bloodbath lands? Such measly, pathetic excuses of human beings. Easily spooked as animals, blatantly flaunting their terror on their miserable faces. Fucking peasants.

But I pay the administrators no mind. Instead, my cold gaze fixates itself on the King and Queen seated on their thrones at the end of the room, my smirk twisting into a leering grin at the sight of the rulers. The king is dressed in robes of regal purple, almost blending in with the walls with a crown fashioned into bolts of lightning perched on his head of ebony-black hair. Next to him, the queen is dressed in a beautiful silk ballgown, the train of it flowing down the edge of her throne and falling in pretty, rippling waves down the dais in front of them. Like the king, a tiny tiara adorned with crafted sparks sits on her head, bringing out the sculptured features of face. In the harsh light of the throne room, she resembles Taeyeon in every way, just like how the king is an older carbon copy of Jongdae.

Reaching the edge of the dais, I drop into a deep bow, my silver hair flowing over my shoulders like a shimmering waterfall. I never curtsey, no matter how many times Yuri insists on me doing so. Curtseying is an indication of submission, something I’m incapable of. I’m not and never will be submissive, even in front of noble rulers.

“King Daesuk and Queen Jiyeon of the Lightning Kingdom”, I declare smoothly, straightening up and looking both of them right in the eye, “I bring the humblest greetings from the ruling Metal Kingdom”.

They sit up in their thrones, a mixture of wariness and interest flickering across their faces at my boldness. King Daesuk is the first to speak. “Princess Kwon Syona”, he booms, spreading out his arms invitingly, “we are honoured that you’ve decided to grace our kingdom with your presence”.

At the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Taeyeon and Jongdae lingering on the sides with the group of wide-eyed administrators, the siblings hanging onto my every word eagerly. Spurred on by my audience, I toss my hair over one shoulder and eye the Lightning rulers challengingly. “As you know”, I proclaim evenly, “I am searching for a prince in our land who is deemed suitable enough for the ruling king’s crown, as well as the man I’m willing to tie the knot with for the rest of my life”. I choose my words carefully, weighing each and every one of them before spitting them out.

“And I, the princess of the Metal Kingdom and the future queen of Exotica, have chosen your beloved son Kim Jongdae as the future king of our land and the man I’m willing to marry”, I finish off with a flourish, twitching the corners of my lips into the faintest of smirks.

Deathly silence floods the entire throne room, so loud and deafening that you could hear a pin drop. Somewhere in the distance, my senses pick up on the low hum of electricity and the hairs at the back of my neck instantly stand to attention. What a strange feeling.

The silence prolongs. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Taeyeon turn to her brother with a meek expression and the Lightning siblings exchange a few hushed words between themselves. On the dais, Queen Jiyeon fidgets uncomfortably and proceeds to clear her throat, nerves rattling her to the core as she struggles to maintain eye contact with me. She fails to do so, too petrified to meet my dagger-like glare.

“Well, Princess Syona”, she begins timidly, leaning forward in her throne, “this is such a pleasant surprise-”

She is ruthlessly cut off by the king’s uproarious laughter. “A pleasant surprise, indeed”, he chortles, eyeing me from head to toe with a glint in his eyes. “You must be deeply in love with our son to make such a bold proclamation, Princess”.

“Marriage doesn’t always equate to love, Your Majesty”, I reply matter-of-factly, resulting in a surprised raise of eyebrows from him. “I’ve made the discovery that Kim Jongdae is indeed a very powerful prince. His ability is out of this world and -excuse the pun- shockingly impressive. Which is the sole reason why I’ve deemed him suitable for the crown and as my spouse. Should you give us the green light to carry out the marriage, our kingdoms will be tied together for eternity and be free to bring prosperity to Exotica”.

The king leans back in his throne, stroking his chin thoughtfully as he considers my blunt words. He hums under his breath, exchanging a knowing glance with the queen and then directing his gaze to his two children lingering on the sidelines with their heads respectfully bowed. “What do you have to say about this, Jongdae?” The king asks.

Jongdae lifts his head, donning on an artificial smile. “I look forward to tying the knot with Princess Kwon Syona and the ruling Metal Kingdom, Father”. His tone is flat, laced with boredom and exasperation and if it weren’t for the million pairs of eyes in this damn room, I would march over and kick him right in the shin.

The queen turns to her husband with soft eyes, laying a gentle hand on his arm and this insignificant action reminds me of my own mother and father, my heart squeezing at the familiar sight. While the rulers are indulged in their own muttered conversation, I turn my head the slightest fraction and immediately catch Taeyeon’s eye. Her electric stare bores back into me, her rosebud mouth pursed delicately as though she’s trying to spit out the words stuck in her throat. But she says nothing and I turn away, breaking the gaze and focusing on the king and queen who are now directing their attention back to me.

“As much as you and Jongdae are eager to carry out the marriage”, the king muses aloud, “we have our objections as well”.

I raise an eyebrow with practiced ease (something which Yuri never taught me). “You are free to list out your objections, Your Majesty”.

The group of administrators recoil at my commanding tone, obviously intimidated beyond words and in response, another sickening smirk tugs at my lips. Even the king himself is stunned, baffled that a mere princess actually has the guts to speak to him in such a blunt manner.

Hastily recovering from his shock, he lets out another guffaw of laughter. “My, my. You’re a feisty one, aren’t you, Syona?”

“If my so-called feistiness bothers you so much, Your Majesty, you should list it down as one of your objections”, I say coldly. “The Metal Kingdom is known for its sharp words to match our equally sharp weapons”.

On the sidelines, Taeyeon hides a smile behind the palm of her hand and I can’t help but smile as well, leering up at the king like the bitch Jongdae claims me to be. In response, King Daesuk’s furrows his brows and his eyes narrow dangerously. “Obviously your parents must be equally sharp and cold for you to turn out the way you are now”.

“Do not bring my parents into this”, I say calmly, a serene smile spreading across my face. “I am my own person and they have nothing to do with the way I am. Plus, I don’t think insulting the rulers of Exotica is a very good method to ensure that your kingdom rises to the top. In case you’ve forgotten, Your Majesty, this entire land wants to make me their queen and your son is not the only prince out here in the lion’s den. I could jolly well crush the entire Lightning Kingdom under my good ole’ sneakers once the crown is mine”.

The king turns beetroot red, his hands clutching the armrests of his throne so tightly that his knuckles have turned a ghostly shade of white. “You wouldn’t”, he hisses. “Our kingdom has done nothing but glorify the Metal rulers for centuries. Even when your parents came to rule and treated us Bloodbath people with as much respect as they would to a speck of dust, we said nothing. Absolutely nothing. Ever since your parents claimed the crown, we’ve been treated with such atrocious inequality! How can you say that you’ll crush us even more when the crown is on your head? You’re heartless, Princess Syona”.

It’s my turn to laugh, a cold and steely laugh that cuts deeper than any knife out there. “Heartless?” I sneer. “Consider your words, King Daesuk. I’m not the one who’s marrying your only daughter off for the sake of your own kingdom. Would you rather force Taeyeon into a marriage her heart doesn’t want or have me marry Jongdae so you don’t have to see your daughter in complete misery?”

My words are an utter shock to both the king and queen’s systems. Even Taeyeon is stunned, her mouth dropping open as her stare drills into the side of my face. Only Jongdae remains still, his hands clasped in front of him as a knowing smile ghosts over his lips then disappears without a trace.

“She has a point, Daesuk”, I hear Queen Jiyeon murmur to her husband, her lovely features creased with worry.

But the king isn’t listening. He springs to his feet, robes billowing around him furiously as he points a hard finger directly at me. “Brats like you should learn how to keep your pretty mouth shut”, he spits venomously.

The harsh lights overhead start to flicker unsteadily, an indication of the king’s wrath and a ripple of nervous gasps reverberate throughout the room. Sparks brim at the edge of the lightning ruler’s fingertips as he levels his gaze with mine, his hands trembling with rage. Queen Jiyeon shifts her nervous eyes towards her children, mouthing something at them I don’t understand.

I don’t budge an inch, even as the king hurls a sizzling bolt towards me and Taeyeon flings herself in front of me, immediately reflecting the deadly lightning with her own two hands. “Father, stop!” She begs, shielding me with her taller form and gazing up at the king with pleading eyes. “Don’t hurt her. She’s done nothing but speak the truth”.

A grin tugs at my lips and I lift my chin defiantly, staring the king right in the eye over Taeyeon’s shoulder. On the sidelines, Jongdae clears his throat and serenely strides over to where I’m standing, placing one hand on my shoulder and looking up at his father on the dais. “Taeyeon’s right, Father”, the prince proclaims confidently. “Anyway, you can’t hurt Syona. You’re attempting assault on our future ruler, in case you’ve forgotten”.

Realizing that he’s completely outnumbered, King Daesuk flops back on his throne dramatically and sends a disgusted look my way, curling his lip with distaste. In response, my grin widens. “There will be a wedding”, I announce. “Long live King Jongdae of Exotica”.

Jongdae and I exchange a glance, an understanding passing between us and for once, I don’t pull away as he takes my hand in his and holds up our entwined fingers for the king and queen to see. “Long live Queen Syona of Exotica”, he confirms, his touch searing beneath my skin.

Nobody notices my heart shattering as I unwillingly tie myself down to a man I’m not in love with.

I don’t look back once as I march out of the Lightning castle, my shoulders squared back firmly and my back ramrod straight. A dozen pair of eyes settle on my retreating back, and I can especially feel the king’s deathly glare boring deep into me as the double doors slam shut behind me, marking my adamant departure.

However, as soon as I’m out of sight of the nobles and their two royal children, I let my shoulders slump and my head fall, my silver locks falling over my face defeatedly. Only now do I realize that my body is hot and cold at the same time, beads of perspiration dotting the back of my neck while my palms are completely clammy and numb. The icy wind clawing at my face does nothing to soothe me; it bites into my flushed skin, numbing my cheeks ruthlessly. Overhead, the ravens of the Flight Kingdom eye my slumped form beadily, their wings fluttering against the cool air gracefully.

My eyes drift shut with exhaustion, one hand proceeding to push my hair back as I feel my burning forehead with my palm. Never before have I felt so flustered, so anxious, so…weak. By now, I’m trembling like a leaf and I’m endlessly grateful that nobody is around to witness my moment of vulnerability. The darkness closes in on me, shielding me from the horrors of reality and with numb fingers, I yank my jacket tighter around my shoulders and continue trudging through the woods.

The mellow call of my name from somewhere behind halts me right in my tracks, instinct propelling me to immediately reach out for the familiar warmth of my power as I prepare to face danger. But when I pivot on my heel with my hands outstretched in front of me defensively, all I see is Taeyeon’s lithe form manoeuvring its way through the trees. Her dark eyes are soft despite the harshness of the surroundings, her equally dark hair framing her heart-shaped face in such an artistic way that all the breath is knocked out of me.

The hem of her white feather-like dress flows around her ankles as she makes a beeline for me, her ballet pumps light and soundless against the dead grass. Her small hands are devoid of her usual sparks and she moves with such elegant grace that I’m instantly put to shame, my years of etiquette training with Yuri flung out the window. The Lightning princess towers over me despite her evident vulnerability, and I feel my cheeks heat up at my lack of height.

“Syona”, she murmurs for the second time, her voice drifting through the woods like a melody. “Wait”.

I do as she says. I wait, rooted to the spot until she’s finally directly in front of me and smiling serenely down at my shorter form. We hold each other’s gazes for a long while, the only sounds coming from the occasional caw from one of the ravens perched on the branches above us.

“Thank you”, Taeyeon finally says after a long time, the words sticking in her throat as she speaks them. “Thank you so much”.

I fidget uncomfortably. “What for?”

“Everything. You’re willing to throw your freedom away for me, you’re willing to tie yourself to my brother to keep me from getting coerced into a marriage of my own. Y-You’re a true queen”.

A lump forms in my throat at the word ‘queen’. I’m anything but a queen; I’m selfish, destructive, a contained storm. What on earth is this angel talking about?

“A queen isn’t defined by a crown”, I say quietly, shrugging. “I’m not a queen. I’m a storm”.

“Storms are beautiful too”, she remarks. Her dreamy eyes lock on me, unwavering and clear, as though she’s looking deep into my soul and I have to force myself to stare back, my heart racing a mile per minute. It’s like looking into Jongdae’s eyes, the similarity between the two siblings astonishingly evident.

“Princess Taeyeon”, I laugh uneasily, “did you just call me beautiful?”

Her severe expression clears and just like the sun peeking out from behind the clouds after a dreary rainy day, a smile breaks out across her face. “Kind of. Yeah”.

“I’m flattered”.

Her eyes never stray from my face, taking her own sweet time to drink in the sight of my sharp features and ruffled silver hair and leather getup. I have no idea what’s going through her mind as she studies me but I definitely know what’s going through mine as I study her: What a masterpiece.

It’s true. Kim Taeyeon is not just plain ole’ art, she’s a hell of a masterpiece. I would say this to her face but the truth is, I know words are insufficient to describe this beauty standing in front of me in flesh and blood. So I keep my mouth shut for the first time in my life, pinching my lips together as she finally dips her head and drops into an elegant curtsey.

“Well”, she murmurs, “I guess it’s farewell for now, Princess Syona. I’ll see you at your wedding”.

Instinctively, I incline my head politely in response. “Yes”, I mutter absentmindedly. “Farewell, Princess Taeyeon”.

And just like that, we go our separate ways. She turns her back on me, her lovely white dress billowing around her ankles as she makes her way back into the depths of the woods and back to her rightful kingdom, while I’m slowly brought out of my strange trance and thrown back into the harshness of reality. With a sigh, I shove my hands back into my jacket pockets and begin the long and dreary walk back to my prison of a castle.

I know for a fact that I can’t keep my betrothal to a Bloodbath boy a secret for long, so I decide to take the initiative to inform the boys of the Peace Kingdoms myself when training rolls around. Today, Yoona happens to be lounging on the training field as well, her cousin Jongin stuck to her side as they discuss battle techniques between themselves, their heads bent close.

At the other end of the field, Kyungsoo is preoccupied with his beloved boulders while Junmyeon practices his skills with the shimmering water fountain nearby. Baekhyun is seated in a corner, toying with the rays of the sunlight with his mere fingers while Sehun lounges beside him, sunglasses on as he snoozes on blissfully. Chanyeol is at the furthest end, hurling fireballs up into the air and catching them as they fall back down into his awaiting hands.

Taking a deep breath, I clench a fist by my side and instantly, the shrill groaning of the adorning metal barriers reverberates throughout the morning air, capturing the attention of every single person on the field. Their eyes settle on my approaching form, heads bowed respectfully and parting like the Red Sea for me to amble through, the light breeze ruffling through my hair.

“Princess Syona”, they chime out in harmony, holding their hands to their hearts to signify their loyalty to the Metal Kingdom. In response, I nod at every one of them and they relax, crowding around me to hear what I have to say.

Clearing my throat, I proceed to recite the words I’ve been rehearsing in my head ever since I went to bed last night, my hands trembling deep in my pockets. “I’ve chosen the prince who is going to be the king of Exotica”, I begin slowly.

Animated chatter ripples throughout everyone, their eager eyes spurring me to continue. So I push on, desperate to get the words out of my system before they completely consume me from inside out. Turning to Yoona and Jongin, I raise my eyebrows at the two teleporter cousins. “Neither of you won the bet”, I deadpan, recalling their conversation the night before when I was walking through the woods with Jongdae. They blink at me sheepishly, their cheeks flushing beetroot red.

“You still owe me five bucks, though”, Jongin mutters to his cousin, elbowing her in the ribs.

Yoona scowls up at him, rubbing her side and wincing as she does so. “Are you really bringing that up now?”

“Who is it?” Baekhyun asks eagerly, shoving the two cousins aside and batting his eyelashes at me flirtatiously. “Is it appropriate to say that I’m the light of your life now?”

My snort is accompanied by various snickers at the Light prince’s pun and his face falls, pushing his lips into a full-bloomed pout. “Worth a try”, he grumbles, folding his arms sulkily.

“It’s…” I pause, the words sticking in my throat as I take a moment to drink in the sight of the eager faces surrounding me. They hang on to my every word, bursting with curiosity but somehow, my gaze wanders over to Chanyeol for reassurance. Even in a sea of empty faces, I still seek his warmth, turning to him and his inferno for comfort like how one would turn to their favourite sweater in the winter of their lives. Now, he flashes that oh-so-familiar grin at me, his pearly-white teeth glittering in the light of the morning sun and my heart clenches at the sight.

Mustering up all the willpower I have, I wrench my gaze away from my best friend and turn my attention to the other boys around me. “It’s Kim Jongdae of the Lightning Kingdom”, I announce, dropping the bombshell as hastily as possible.

Silence falls over the training field, accompanied by a dozen pair of wide eyes and stunned expressions. The chatter grinds to a halt, as though time has come to a standstill and we’re all frozen and unable to do anything about it. Nobody speaks or moves or even breathes for a long time, and I feel like I might crack under the weight of the deafening silence.

“A Bloodbath boy”, Junmyeon finally mutters, exchanging glances with Sehun who’s hovering next to him. “What a surprise”.

Sehun tosses back his hair confidently, reaching forward and patting me on the shoulder reassuringly. “Hey, let’s look on the bright side”, the Air prince pipes up cheerily. “Syona’s marriage with Jongdae breaks the barriers between us and the Bloodbath Kingdoms. Do you know what this means? It means I can finally make a move to ask Luhan out!”

“Luhan?” Kyungsoo burst out in incredulous laughter. “What makes you think the hot Telekinesis prince would even give your windy ass the time of the day?”

Sehun sniffs delicately, looking down at Kyungsoo snootily. “For your information”, the Air prince remarks stiffly, “Luhan sneaks glances at me whenever I would walk along the edge of the boundary. He would be perched in one of the trees and grin down at me, even shouting acknowledgements at times-”

“He does that to everyone who happens to pass by”, I say flatly, rolling my eyes at the memory of the Telekinesis prince leering down at me whenever I crossed onto Bloodbath lands.

Sehun deflates at that, disappointment creasing his features Junmyeon pulls him in for a comforting hug, patting the Air prince’s back as he does so. Baekhyun barges in again, grabbing at my hands excitedly as he bounces on the balls of his feet. “The Lightning Kingdom, you say?” He squeals. “As in, Kim Taeyeon’s kingdom?”

Something hardens within me, a sort of defence mechanism which I never knew I even possessed. The memory of Taeyeon’s soft silhouette fading away as the darkness of the woods swallowed her up still lingers at the back of my mind, haunting me with every step I take. Such a beauty doesn’t deserve to be spoken about so blatantly in the glaring light of the day, especially with such carelessness.

So I coldly withdraw my hands from Baekhyun’s grasp, regarding him with a raise of an eyebrow. “Yes”, I say evenly, “Kim Taeyeon’s kingdom. Why do you ask?”

Baekhyun almost combusts at this piece of information, his cheeks flushing an interesting shade of pink as he emits a high-pitched squeal, completely ignoring the stares of Yoona and the other boys. “God bless you for choosing Jongdae”, he crows, punching the air deliriously and blatantly disregarding the knowing smirks directed at him. He earns a few playful shoves in the shoulder for his boyish behaviour, Sehun and Jongin jeering at him simultaneously.

With a good-natured roll of his eyes, Kyungsoo flashes a smile at me and rests a gentle hand on my shoulder. His touch does wonders to me, sending foreign spasms of serene energy surging through my veins like the first flowers bursting through the ground during spring season. For a moment, I’m disoriented. It’s like the feel of the earth beneath the soles of my sneakers is bleeding through me, filling my bones with the peace of the surrounding nature. Then Kyungsoo pulls his hand away and immediately, the foreign feeling melts away into nothingness.

“Congratulations on picking a husband”, the Earth prince murmurs warmly, the sight of his rare smile causing the butterflies in my stomach to settle down. I return the smile, nodding at him wordlessly as the chatter of the other boys rise over us heatedly.

“I’ve heard Jongdae is the most powerful prince amongst the Bloodbath Kingdoms”, Jongin chatters away, awe glazing his eyes as he pictures the Lightning prince in his head.

Yoona nods in agreement, crossing her arms and jutting her lower lip out as she ponders to herself silently. “He definitely overshadows the others effortlessly”, the female teleporter mutters thoughtfully. “Good choice, Syona”.

I say nothing, just emitting a sigh through my pursed lips as I absentmindedly watch Sehun and Baekhyun squeal simultaneously, hands clasped together. “Alright”, Baekhyun breathes excitedly, “so here’s the plan. At the wedding, I’ll chat Taeyeon up while you make a beeline for Luhan. Got it?”

Sehun nods along feverishly, his cheeks flushed pink as his grin threatens to split his face in half. “Crystal clear, boss. You’re a genius”.

Utterly locked away in their own bubble of fantasy, the Air and Light prince break away from us and amble across to the furthest end of the field hand-in-hand, still chattering animatedly. I turn my attention away from the two lovestruck princes, focusing on the people gathered around me and pinning on an artificial smile.

“Look forward to the wedding”, I state simply, waving everyone off with a flick of my wrist. “It’s time to train”.

Chanyeol corners me in the depths of the woods as soon as training ends for the day, his scorching hands burning into my skin as he pins me up against a tree trunk and glares down at me with the fury of a thousand burning suns. Crimson flames lick at his shoulders, showcasing his rage as he hollers at me.

“Are you stupid?” He snarls, digging his fingernails into my shoulders menacingly. “Getting yourself hitched with a Bloodbath boy? What the fuck were you thinking, Syona?”

I push his lanky form off me, baring my teeth up at him like some sort of feral animal. “I’m lots of things, Chanyeol, but stupid isn’t one of them”, I snarl back. “You’re not exactly in a position to tell me what to do or who to choose. The deal is sealed, I’m marrying Jongdae no matter what you say. So it’s best that you keep your opinions to yourself or shove them where the sun doesn’t shine”.

“What the hell do you even see in him?”

“A queen’s crown”, I snap brutally, the words slicing through the air like an axe. “It’s either him or somebody else. I don’t have much of a choice when it comes to the queen’s title, do I?”

“You could’ve earned the crown by marrying any one of the boys from the Peace Kingdoms!” He shoots back, the flames dancing on the edge of his shoulders increasing in size and blazing around him furiously. He’s spitting mad, about to erupt like a storm and the feeling is mutual; by now, the blades of my fingernails are cutting into my palms and the dull pain just reminds me of the large gash adorning my jaw, thanks to my father’s slap the day before. It still stings now, a haunting reminder of how lowly a member of my own blood thinks of me. And it also stings to see my own best friend doubt me so much, getting all riled up because I’m tying myself down with the enemy.

I told Taeyeon that I’m a storm, and explode like a storm I do. “One of the Peace boys?” I screech incredulously, taking a step towards him and enduring the heat radiating from his form. “Like who? You?”

Chanyeol withdraws as though he’s been slapped, the biting sneer in my words an incredibly bitter pill to swallow on his part. The flames kiss his silhouette beautifully, making it seem like he’s the devil himself and I quietly wonder how the Fire Kingdom even ended up on the Peace side of Exotica. Fire is dangerous, fire is lethal, fire does whatever it fucking wants. Fire destroys, fire tears everything apart without an ounce of mercy. Fire is a storm, just like Jongdae and the rest of the Bloodbath boys. So why am I staring up at my best friend and wishing he would just tear me apart with those deadly flames of his?

“Why not me?” Chanyeol bites out, hurt threading through his words. Unlike me, the Fire prince is a complete amateur in hiding his emotions, preferring to explode whenever he feels like it instead of hiding behind a cold and hard mask like I do. He’s as readable as an open book, his feelings blatantly laid out in the open for the entire world to see. And I hate him for it. I hate him for causing tidal waves of guilt to flood through me, I hate him for reminding me of the heart I’ve so carefully wrapped up and sealed away in the deepest and darkest depths of me.

Hearts have no place in reality.

Jongdae’s cryptic words from yesterday echo through my mind, looping around like an old record on repeat. Clenching my teeth and digging my feet into the gravel stubbornly, I glare up at Chanyeol’s flushed face, the sunlight behind him almost blinding me. “We’re not like that, Chanyeol”, I growl. “We’re not cut out for marriage”.

“Are you and Jongdae cut out for it, then?” He retorts.

“We’re cut out to rule, not love each other”.

“So what happens after the marriage? Are you just going to forget us once the crown is on your head and the throne belongs to you? Are you just going to forget me?”

A bark of laughter escapes from me, loud and incredulous. “What are you, twelve?” I sneer. “How could I forget your annoying remarks about my lack of height and your dumbo-sized ears? Get the fuck over yourself, Chanyeol. I can’t be your babysitter for the rest of your life”.

He glowers down at me, eyes blazing a predatory shade of red and gold. “You don’t want this, do you?” His tone is flat, devoid of any emotion and it stings more than any wound I’ve ever attained in my entire life. Even the burn scars I’d received from him don’t hurt as much as the iciness in his words and the armour around my heart chinks a little, giving way to a tiny ounce of self-pity.

I lean back against the tree trunk, flicking a dismissive glance up at him. “What do you think?” I ask quietly, folding my arms over my chest.

Without a word, Chanyeol folds me in for a hug, his long arms entwined around my petite form as his heat wraps itself around both of us like a warm blanket in the midst of winter. His chin rests on top of my head, his large hands cupping the back of my scalp protectively as he trails his fingers through my hair.

“You’re a fool, Syona”, he whispers. “An impulsive fool”.

I want to shove him away, break out of the comfort of his enveloping heat and turn my back on his comforting presence. I want to break into a run, allowing the wind to whip against my face as my feet take me through the woods with no particular destination in mind. But somehow, I find myself leaning into my best friend’s burning comfort, my cheek pressed against his chest as my eyelids flutter shut.

In a crisis like this, Chanyeol is my anchor. He keeps me grounded, acting as something to hold onto even as everything around me is crashing and burning and falling to pieces and spiralling out of my control. Even when the rest of the world slips through my fingers like water, Chanyeol is still there for me, standing stoic and firm. Like his fire, he acts as my source of warmth in a cold world like Exotica and I’m eternally grateful for him, although I may not show it openly.

“When am I not?” I mumble, muffled by the material of his jacket. “You of all people would know that”.

“You’re a fool caught in the storm of your own doings”, Chanyeol continues. “But then again, so are all queens. Queens are impulsive fools who know what they’re doing”.

I stay silent, comfortably basking in the comfort of his warmth as I allow his words to sink in like quicksand. The truth in them is shocking, hitting the nail right on the head. For a moment, we remain in our little huddle, my head resting against his chest while his arms are wrapped around me, shielding me from the horrors of the world around me.

And just for the moment, I let the walls I’ve built around myself collapse into a pile of dust, giving Chanyeol the chance to banish my fears without even saying a word. His flames reach the sky like a roaring phoenix, setting the world on fire as we hold onto each other tightly, clinging to the remnants of our friendship before it is brutally and mercilessly snatched away from our bare hands by a looming marriage and the promise of a queen’s crown.