#she’s still unsure of it but more desensitisation will help

[treewithabark]

Watch out lads, Juno’s back on the block for 10 minutes at a time

[esotl]

Performance - Chapter 10 (Part 19)

Writer: Akira

Season: Spring

Characters: Hokuto, Wataru

Translation Directory

She once told me something when we were together on stage - that performers and authors are only fully qualified once they have followers.

Time: Spring Last Year

Location: Inside a Train

Hokuto: ……

(…Ah, how inconvenient. I dozed off.)

(Where am I now? According to the announcement, we're at a station that's rather far from my destination...)

(It's not like me to oversleep.)

(This is no good. I let my guard down too much, even though I was aiming for a perfect attendance reward.)

(I'm the class representative, I need to diligently go to school.)

(Well, even if I attend class, I won't be able to learn anything worthwhile... is something I could conclude, but.)

(It's not pointless. No helping it, I'll get off at the next stop and head back.)

Wataru: Ho~ku. To. Kun♪

Hokuto: ...Ah, President Hibiki, good morning. Why are you also riding this train? Isn't Yumenosaki in the other direction?

Wataru: My, I really can't surprise you at all. I expected it, but it's still disappointing.

Hokuto: My bad. I'm used to seeing bewildering things, so I think I'm a bit desensitised.

Wataru: As expected from a thoroughbred of the acting world. From my point of view, your environment is envious, you know? It must be exciting every day, is it not?

Hokuto: No, it's normal.

Wataru: Right. It would be normal for you, wouldn't it?

Hokuto: What do you mean... Stop pestering me, it's annoying. We shouldn't be whispering on a train.

Wataru: Sob sob. Even though you used to follow me around to the point it was an annoyance when you first joined the club...

Perhaps you've recently lost all interest in me, and become cold.

Fufu. Despite not remembering a single technique no matter how much you're taught, you ask the same thing over and over again without getting discouraged, and so...

I found you to be a pain.

But it feels lonely for you to not ask for my guidance anymore.

Hokuto: Hmph... That's because the more I learn from you, the more I feel the difference in our abilities, and end up at a loss.

I figured I'd grasp the basics first, so I've been studying various things.

Wataru: You truly are good at pretending to work hard. Even though no-one will scold you for not taking it step-by-step, or for skipping the process to reach the conclusion.

You can acquire other skills that way, you know?

Hokuto: Pretending to work hard, huh... I suppose that's how a mediocre person like me looks to you.

Wataru: What are you sulking about? I'm sure you're also a genius of some sort, though I'm unsure in what area.

However, "genius" is a special type of flower whose cultivation methods differ from person to person, so there's a chance it won't sprout through normal means.

Tomatoes and watermelons are similar, but ultimately different; you are a watermelon that wishes to grow like a tomato.

Someday, your stem is going to break with a snap♪

Hokuto: I don't understand what you're talking about.

Wataru: Well, that's fine. This is just idle chit-chat without any real meaning, after all.

Hokuto: Chatting is a waste of time. It'd be better spent reading a book.

Wataru: Books may have truths written in them, but they're never the genuine thing.

In this world, the answers to any question that exists are infinite, or human.

Therefore, you should enjoy the actual process of connecting with people, and repeatedly asking questions.

Hokuto: President. ...I don't really care, but stop pointlessly pulling at my braid.

Wataru: No~ I feel some kind of affinity with it.

Are you copying me? I'm happy if so~ we look just like brothers♪

Hokuto: I don't want a brother like you, I'd end up comparing myself to you and getting an inferiority complex.

...When I first entered the school and said I was going to join the Drama Club, my mother tied it for me.

For some reason or another, I've kept it up. Tying it each and every day is a pain.

Wataru: Aah... it's your mother's work, is it? She's got quite the discerning eye.

Fufu. She once told me something when we were together on stage - that performers and authors are only fully qualified once they have followers.

Hokuto: Followers...?

Wataru: People who mimic your style, and imitate your work.

It's a common occurence for something to become popular, and then have an overflow of similar works trying to recreate that success.

The ones who spring up like that are followers, and only once they're born are you a full-fledged performer...

And I still have none, so I was denounced as being half-baked.

Hokuto: Are you on bad terms with my parents, President Hibiki?

Wataru: I wonder? I took it as a loving pep talk, as all other people did was praise me as a superior genius.

"That's not true," she said, "you're still an inexperienced novice"…

When your mother laughed scornfully at me, I felt like I'd been saved.

[Act 7 • Directory • Chapter 11]

[soaringlark]

Disclaimer: all my work is non-sexual! n/sf/w interaction is not appreciated!

(If asked to delete this, I will)

This is a remake of the first T0H vore I posted, because I have improved a little since then. And the other story makes me embarrassed with how bad and low effort it is... You’ll be the judge on if this is actually that much better. (also there’s actually vore in this one)

Sorry if this makes you uncomfortable because of female pred. I really don’t intend to do that, but I also don’t tag my stuff like that in case it gets into n/sf/w territory. That’s not where I want my content to be.

Story below read more!

Not really any spoilers I can think of, but I might just be desensitised. So read at your own risk.

The story is about 2.5k words

(I don’t think I have to censor the names, either way I’m taking my chances)

It’s obvious, but these characters are not mine. They are from The 0wl H0use

(should be mentioned the characters are 14 just be aware of that)

***

“I don’t know, Luz…”

“Come on, Amity! It’ll be fun!”

Amity couldn’t see what would be “fun” about having Luz look around her mouth. “But my fangs…”

“Just be careful not to bite me; I’ll try not to get myself impaled.” The shrunken human girl laughed.

But Amity didn’t like it. “That’s not funny! I don’t want to hurt you!”

Luz held her hands out defensively. “I’m just joking!” The witchling scowled at her. “Besides, I’m already shrunken down, so why not at least try?”

Amity turned her head away from her crush. There was another reason she was feeling reluctant about doing that. But there was no way she was telling Luz that. “I would rather not!” She exclaimed her face growing a little red. It was because of the thought of Luz begin so close to her face. Literally in her face. She was pretty sure she would never feel brave enough to get Luz that close.

“But why?”

She glanced at her, before looking away again. “I don’t want to.”

“Not even for me?”

Amity swore in her head. Did Luz really have to pull that card? She would do pretty much anything for her. But this is something stupid… She couldn’t keep herself from smiling at the thought. When does Luz not do something dumb? “Alright! What do I do?”

Luz squealed in excitement. She’s so strange�� “Thank you so much! Just lean your head down so I can reach your mouth!”

Amity did as Luz told her, nervously keeping her mouth open. Why does she want to do this? Is it a human thing? Do humans like to look into their friends’ mouths?

She could feel her hands press on her canines. She couldn’t stop herself from letting out a gasp.

“What is it?” Luz asked, backing away.

“You said you would be careful!” she spoke a little louder than she meant to, making Luz cover her ears. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell…”

“It’s okay,” the other girl paused for a second, before speaking up again. “But I was being careful! I just wanted to know how your teeth felt.”

Amity nodded, a tiny bit confused, before opening her mouth up again.

She felt her place a hand on her upper lip; a small squeak escaped her throat. But her thoughts were immediately drawn away from that, as Luz place her other hand on her tongue.

She had not expected her to taste like anything, but she had been wrong. Very wrong. Her mouth immediately flooded with drool. She tasted as sweet as she was. Not even a twinge of sourness or saltiness to her bafflingly good taste.

Luz voice changed for moment, as she let out a surprised noise, once again backing away from her. “Amity! Why are you’re drooling so much?”

Amity snapped her mouth shout, quickly swallowing, before wiping the excess drool off her chin. She couldn’t even speak. The flavor still overwhelmed her. It didn’t make sense; how could she taste that good?

“Do… Do I taste good or something?”

Amity hesitated, trying to regain her voice. “Uhm…”

Luz just… shrugged? “I figured. You would not believe how many creatures tried to eat me, when I was out on my first potion run for Eda!”

Amity was a little confused by how casually Luz said that. “You are okay with this?”

“Sure! It’s better than me tasting horrible!”

“How?” Amity couldn’t see any reason that would ever be the better option. “I mean, you taste really good.” She didn’t manage to stop the words from spilling out, and her face went even redder than before; she leaned her chin down on the table in embarrassment.

“Amity, it’s okay! It’s not like you are going to hurt me.” Luz hugged her nose.

Close! Close! Close! Clos- that was the only thing that echoed through her mind. She went cross-eyed looking at her, while her breath caught in her throat.

Her heart fluttered, hearing Luz’s laugh. “You went cross-eyed!” It took her a moment for her to stop laughing. “Anyways, open up!”

Amity’s sat up in surprise. “Really? You want to do that again?” Amity wasn’t too much against the idea anymore, yet, she didn’t want to be a danger to Luz.

“Don’t see why not! Just get back down here and open your mouth.”

Amity hesitated, before doing as she was told. But she still couldn’t figure out why she tasted like that.

It felt strange to know that it was her crush in there, and, not long after, she could feel Luz’s hands on her tongue. Her mouth flooded again. It was hard for her to ignore the drool that was dripping onto the table. She could her lean farther in. “Woah, you’re drooling a lot.”

Her brain still couldn’t make sense of the fact that Luz was in her mouth. “No need to respond, it was just an observation.”

In her head, she couldn’t keep from worrying about hurting Luz. What if I bite her? I don’t want to hurt her… “Can you lean your head down a little more?”

Amity did as she was told. “Thank you!” The girl spoke enthusiastically, climbing even farther into her mouth. She had to keep herself from biting down in surprise; her short hair was touching palette, making her want to spit her out.

Luz noticed her reaction. “Sorry!” she apologized, pressing herself down onto Amity’s tongue. “I didn’t think about my hair…” But Amity could barely register the words.

Luz’s taste was the only thing on her mind. How could she taste that good? She closed her mouth around her. Still careful not to hurt the girl; she didn’t want to chomp her legs off. “Hey!” It sounded from inside her mouth.

Amity swallowed a mouthful of spit, before wiping off her chin, still keeping Luz in her mouth. “Amity! Spit me out!” The tiny girl didn’t sound utterly terrified, or angry, but she was clearly serious. She shoved her hands against her tongue, making Amity want to do that even less.

But she still did let her out.

Luz took a moment to compose herself. “Why did you do that?”

Why did I do that? “I just…” It had been because of Luz’s taste, but she couldn’t just say that… “I wasn’t going to eat you, if that is what you think.”

“That sounds like something some who was going to eat me would say!” Amity’s ears shifted in surprise. “I’m just messing around. But seriously, why did you do that?”

“You just taste good. Do I need any more reasons?” Nope, I’m definitely in the wrong on this one, she realized right after speaking. “Sorry, Luz, I mean, it was that and some other reasons… But it was mainly because you tasted so good, I couldn’t think straight.”

Luz looked like she was about laugh, but she didn’t make a sound. Amity briefly wondered what was so funny. “oh…” Luz looked a little unsure. “I guess it’s best if we quit now? Wouldn’t want you eating me in a crazed trance or anything.”

“I would never do that!” But as soon as the words left her mouth, she became unsure herself. She would never want to hurt Luz on purpose… but she had felt a little out of it when Luz’s taste hit her. Something told her it would be best if they just quit. But… “Are you sure? Can’t I just taste you a little longer?”

“Alright, you agreed to do this for me, so I’ll do this for you.” Just thinking of the girl’s taste made her mouth water. She picked Luz up herself. Her eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

She put Luz back down on the table. “Sorry, I just thought it would be easier for me like that…” She leaned her head down again. She couldn’t help but let out a disappointed sigh, before opening her mouth.

Luz hesitantly walked back over to her. “No need to be like that… I would just rather be on the ground.” Amity stopped Luz with a finger. “What now?”

“It’s a table,” corrected Amity, before opening her mouth once again.

As soon as Luz got her upper body in her mouth; she closed it off as much as she could without biting her. She waited for Luz to protest, but she seemed fine with it. There was a thought too deep in her mind for it to really register. It wasn’t even words; just a feeling. She wanted to eat her, but it didn’t click her head. Not yet.

She spent about a minute of using Luz as an unusual piece of candy, before Luz shoved against her tongue. “That’s enough, Amity. Let me out now.”

But she didn’t want to do that… She shoved her a little farther into her mouth. “Hey, you promised!” Luz didn’t seem too serious for now. “Just spit me out!” There was a laugh to her yell. But it vanished after a few seconds. “But seriously, that’s enough.”

She pushed against her tiny shoes, before sitting up. She didn’t want Luz to hurt herself on her teeth. Luz gave a tiny kick to her fingers. “It’s not funny anymore!” Amity did not like the panic in her voice. Her ears shifted down in disapproval, but she still felt reluctant to let her go.

Despite the feeling, she got her out. Luz looked up at her with shock in her eyes, as she dangled from her fingers. “What’s with you? You’re acting really strange…” Amity didn’t know either. As she looked at Luz everything grew brighter. “Woah, your pupils are really… big.”

She blinked, snapping back to herself for a moment. “What?” she hadn’t really taken in any of what Luz said. The only feeling filling her head was the same on as earlier; hunger.

Luz kicked the air, trying to get more comfortable. But it didn’t seem to help much. Amity felt bad, shifting her hand, so Luz could sit. “I just meant your pupils had widened.”

There were a few seconds of silence, before Amity spoke up. “I want to eat you…” She hadn’t even realized the words left her mouth, before she saw the panic in Luz eyes. “I mean, no, I won’t do it!” Where did the craving even come from? She would never want to hurt Luz! She liked her. And a lot for that matter. “I…” she couldn’t figure out what to say to make it better. “uh…”

“Please, just don’t eat me? I think this is enough for now,” said Luz, her voice quivering nervously. She looked up into her eyes again. “Amity…?”

Her head felt clouded with thoughts. Or maybe it was more sensations… She couldn’t be sure. But one thing she was sure of, was that the little human in her hands would be amazing to eat… If it wasn’t for the stupid fact that it would hurt her… She knew how to keep herself safe from being eaten alive; a bit necessary living in a place like the boiling isles. But not how to make it safe for others. Would it even work on humans?

She wished she knew; she wasn’t willing to just take a chance. Especially not on Luz’s life. She could try with something simple… But she wasn’t really sure. There was no way of knowing it worked, before it was too late. But if she reacted fast enough, maybe she could still get her out?

The way Luz trembled in her hand made her hesitate. But Amity wasn’t herself anymore; she felt more like a wild animal. Still she snapped back for just a moment. “If it was safe, would you let me eat you?” Her response wouldn’t matter much to Amity, but she still wanted to let Luz know what she was planning.

“How could that be safe?” She nervously pressed herself up against Amity’s fingers. But she was more focused on casting her spells. “What are you doing?” questioned Luz, but something about the way she said it convinced Amity that she knew. She felt her shudder. “What was that feeling?”

“It worked!” She couldn’t not feel excited over that! She had never been a gifted witchling, so the fact that it worked made her nearly jump in excitement. It tore her thoughts away from… then it hit her how weird those thoughts were. What was I thinking?

“What worked? Amity, are you going to eat me?”

“No…” But as soon as the words left her mouth, she remembered Luz’s taste. She was already going back into that weird state of mind, where no thought felt complete.

Luz, once again, pressed herself against Amity’s fingers, before they curled around her. She wheezed, as Amity pressed tighter than she meant to. Amity grimaced, giving Luz an apologetic look, before opening her mouth again. “Hey! You just said you weren’t going to do that!” But she ignored her, shoving her legs into her mouth. “Please, I’d rather you didn’t!”

Amity looked Luz, before bring her back out. “I’m not going to hurt you,” she said, pushing her back in her mouth. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to eat her immediately or enjoy her taste a little longer. She could feel her legs at the back of her throat.

She swallowed, feeling Luz’s feet enter her throat. “Amity, I’m serious spit me out!” But she had already decided she was going through with this. She pushed her a little farther in, before swallowing once more. None of Luz was outside her mouth anymore, but she seemed more exhausted than anything else. She mumbled something under her breath, but Amity couldn’t understand it. What she could understand was what she said next. “Alright, just eat me, I guess…”

That speed the process up a lot. It barely took a couple of seconds, before she had swallowed the smaller girl. She could feel her slide down her throat, and, in some ways, it felt nice.

She could feel her the entire way down into her stomach. And in her stomach too. A smile spread across her lips. She didn’t know what made the thought that Luz was in her stomach so appealing, but she liked it. She needed to know if she was fine. “Are you alright, Luz?”

It was weird hearing her voice coming from her middle. “I’m fine, I guess… Just really slimy. Why did you eat me?”

“I just…” she wasn’t really sure. “I don’t know, I just felt like it.”

“Huh.” It was quiet from her stomach for a few seconds, before Luz’s heart-warming laugh sounded. “I guess you were right about it being better if I tasted bad!”

Amity smiled, exhaling through her noise. “No, I think this is better.”

There was a smile in Luz’s voice. “’Course you do.”

***

would appreciate if you point out anything iffy sounding in the story! :D I would rather edit it than seem like a perverted creep.

A few notes about this: I know Amity doesn’t have sharp teeth or oval irises, I just think it looks cool. It took me longer than I expected to write. The last one was less 1k words. I don’t just write Amity POV, it just happens that I’m always writing her when it’s vore. Luz is the one I’ve written for 19k words (not a typo btw), so I could use a break. I know Amity doesn’t blush from her ears, but I thought it looked better that way. Luz saying the thing about going into a crazed trance is actually a reference to an unposted story, where that happens. It’s very angsty, and I don’t feel comfortable posting it. Final note: Yes, I headcanon witches and witchlings knowing how to survive being eaten, even if it goes against canon a tiny bit. I just think it makes sense, that they’d know that.

Other than that... Thanks for reading and have a nice day! <3

[horlockshelmes]

I wanted to see you again

pairing: sherlock x reader

warnings: none. 

request (anon): ‘Hi, I absolutely love your Sherlock imagines!! I was hoping that you could possibly write something with the prompts #2 and #15! It can be anything you want! Thank you :)��

prompt: 'I love you' 'no you don't' / 'why are you here? I didn't ask for your help.’

a/n: I accidentally made this really really long lol I just couldn’t stop writing I’m sorry. regardless, enjoy and thank you for the request x. 

word count: 1,758

'Go and have a look upstairs, you know your way around.' Greg Lestrade smiles at you with tired eyes when you get out of his car. They tell you he really hadn't been in the mood to play Sherlock's games. You didn't blame him, for all you'd witnessed in these three short lived months, and what he must've witnessed in his three drab years. You return a smile, and head inside of the hospital as you'd been instructed.

St Bart's wasn't known for its complicated floor plans, luckily, and to your relief not many people questioned you or the legitimacy of your access to the lab floor, but nevertheless you fumbled with the ID that Sherlock pick-pocketed last week to allow you access to one of his cases.

You'd kept it, hoping you'd never need to use it. You'd figured it was best to avoid a run-in with someone called 'Molly Hooper', as if she questioned your ID she'd be met with the uncomfortable coincidence of her own name and picture staring back at her.

When you'd reached the microscope lab at the end of the hallway you peered into the rectangular window in the door. It looked empty, and when you'd tried the curved, metal handle it popped open to your surprise. You pushed the door open no more than a few inches and poked your head into the room, being met with an unpleasantly flat, chemical smell.

The lab was vast, but cluttered so severely that half of its size became lost in the various liquids and tubes that inhibited the table tops. Sherlock sat at the one furthest from the door - to prevent distractions, you'd assumed - head and hands buried in a microscope, to the point where if you hadn't recognised his black tresses you would've excused yourself from the room, and continued looking in the mortuary.

You stepped into the room silently, holding the door with the nearest hand and securing it to shut as quietly as humanly possible in order not to disturb the working detective. You'd worked with him before, perhaps not for long, but long enough to know the string of snarky insults he wouldn't refrain from using against anyone.

Sherlock's head bobbed up momentarily, without directing his gaze toward you, before the fingers of his left hand danced over the magnification and he lowered it again.

You'd taken his action as a cue to enter the room further. Still, you paced forward quite silently and laid Molly Hooper's ID onto an empty space next to Sherlock's microscope.

'What is it Lestrade needs?' He asks, quite abruptly, startling you when you sit down.

You stay wordless. Half confused at Sherlock's question and half unsure of how to answer it. Didn't it cross his mind that you'd searched for him, just because?

Sherlock bobs his head up quickly, meeting your stare and causing you to flick your eyes away in embarrassment. He doesn't hang on this detail though, when you meet his eyes again he appears overcome with curiosity, letting you know he wouldn't settle for silence as an answer. Sherlock tries again.

'Why are you here?' He questions. 'I didn't ask for your help.'

'You called me along to the last one,' you start, regarding the ID on the table, some fraction inside of you hoping that he'd remember you, catch on, and give you a task to work on in the lab. 'I thought, maybe, you didn't want to text.' You fumble with your hands, 'Greg told me you'd be here.'

Sherlock leered at the floor, before grimacing and inhaling sharply.

'That's not all Lestrade told you.' He says, matter-of-factly, making you flinch. 'You're not carrying a bag, and you're not holding your wallet, so if you got cab here you wouldn't have been able to pay.' Sherlock sits back in his chair. 'Lestrade drove you here and-' He studies your face for a moment before his eyes become large and his mouth opens a little wider when he utters a small 'oh'.

'He's here too. He's in St Bart's, isn't he?'

You immediately stop slouching and he smiles a peculiar grin. 'Sherlock, no-'

'Why did you two come looking for me? Did I break another of those... law thingies?'

'For God's sakes because I love you, Sherlock. I love your cases and I love that you're in a bad mood almost all the time!' You snapped at him, scanning the floor before shutting your eyes and scrunching them to keep the oncoming headache at bay. The smell of sulphur was really stripping the moisture from them.

'I love that you never talk to anyone, and I love that when you do it always ends up being horrendously morbid. And I love how mean and grumpy you are because it's so real! Nobody is like that.' You open your eyes, and Sherlock looks nothing short of uncomfortable. 'Greg always smiles at me when I'm talking to him, but it's so obvious that he's tired and miserable - his eyes give it away - they're cloudy and gone.' You think for a second, 'Or John - he always asks people if they're okay, but nobody ever asks him, and he just ends up smiling all the time so people know he's fine, and they don't have to ask.'

You swallow, 'You're not like that. You're just... you.' You start to fumble with your hands again when you see Sherlock hasn't moved a muscle to reveal what he thought. 'You're just... Sherlock.' You repeat, this time quieter and he shifts violently, startling you.

Sherlock clears his throat just before the silence can hit thirty seconds.

'No you don't.'

You exhale in a short burst, dropping your head to your lap and attempting to process his words. The lab was really becoming bleak, you thought, and you hadn't become desensitised to the smell at all. 'What?'

'You don't love me. So don't say it.' Sherlock says shortly, before examining down the eyepiece of the microscope again. Before you can argue he stretches his arm forward and slaps it onto the ID, sliding it forward. 'Keep it.' He urges.

'Why?'

'How else are you going to get in next time?'

Sherlock doesn't look up, and perhaps for the better, because he doesn't see the ridiculously large smile that, to your dismay, creeps onto your face a little too easily.

'Text Lestrade and tell him to drive away, don't call, he'll get suspicious and come looking for you.'

Your smile doesn't falter when you realise Sherlock remembered you and the help he received. You sigh, sliding off the chair and landing on the floor with a small click from your shoes. Not everything that seemed good meant it was, you thought. You knew Greg's rules, and you knew how he hated when Sherlock got you involved in things you weren't legally allowed to see.

Just before you can deny the request, (which came out a whole lot more like an order) Sherlock immediately lunges forward and snatches the swipe-card he'd offered you, bringing it close to his chest with a childish glee that made you question the man before you. He points to the only entrance in the lab.

'That door requires identification for you to leave. Odd - I know - I used to think it was a construction error.' His eyes flick over you so briefly you almost don't notice.

You turn your head and trace the door. It was a thick, light wood, with metal around the edges and the door handle, notifying you it was, in fact, alarmed. You eye the black, palm-sized scanner to the left of it. It was equipped with a rhythmically flashing, rectangular, red light, which you'd guessed wouldn't be hard to move around, but a lot harder with a sociopath by your side.

'I'm not bluffing, if that's what you're trying to figure out. The scanner stays turned on all night, and on a Thursday evening the alarm goes straight to the morgue.' Sherlock pauses, beckoning you to return your attention to him, for it was, in fact, Thursday evening. When you do, you realize quite rapidly that Sherlock hadn't stopped staring at you. 'And we both know who works down there on a Thursday night.'

He rolls his eyes when your expression renders absolute cluelessness. Sherlock pulls your ID into view again, shaking it in front of your face like a primary school bully with somebody's toy.

'Molly Hooper would be baffled to find a stranger with the key-card she lost last week.'

You can feel your throat close up. 'I- I'll tell her you stole it-'

'I would like to see you try.' He spits, playful grin tugging at the edges of his mouth, which came as a shock to you. 'Text Lestrade, I trust I won't have to take your phone and do it for you.'

You do as he asks, for some reason obliging and stuffing your phone into your back pocket when you'd finished. Sherlock hadn't stopped watching you, you notice some distant version of a smirk ghosting his features when he tucks Molly's ID away into the inside pocket of his jacket - somewhere he was sure you wouldn't have the boldness to reach - before pushing away from the desk on his revolving chair and grabbing a light brown case file that he threw in your broad direction when he'd returned to his table.

'Have a read, see what you can tell me that I don't already know.' Sherlock announced, his words long and drawn out as he sorted through a pile of photos and notes that didn't match his handwriting.

Your face melted into a smile again. You picked up the first thing in arms reach, baffled at the lengths he'd gone to keep you in the lab, for the sole reason to sit and have you read a few of his files.

Sherlock had been indifferent to dismissing Lestrade, so indifferent he'd done it by your mobile phone, apparently. He hadn't had anybody in the lab prior to you, you'd assumed, so help wasn't what he was after. Quickly making you draw the conclusion that all he was after, was you.

You barely even thought of the potential consequences Lestrade would bring onto you when he'd found you'd been messing with confidential details of victims and killers, but in the moment you didn't mind, and Sherlock didn't care, because he knew that as long as he was there, Lestrade wouldn't ever ponder over firing you.

want me to write something? here’s a list of prompts to get you inspired, or get straight to requesting here.

[dubu-tokki]

Rosewood, Room 342. Chapter One.

Jinki wasn’t sure whether he was ready for this or not. Sure he’d just done six months of training, but it felt so foreign. He looked at himself in the glass of the hospital doors and they slid open. His hair was neatly sitting on top of his head, his uniform was clean and freshly ironed that morning and his shoes were shined. Looking at his cheeks, Jinki took a moment to wish he didn't blush so easily- the nerves he was feeling made his face flush.

But, ready or not, this was it: Today was Jinki’s first day as a trainee assistant nurse.

He clenched his teeth and approached the reception.

“Hi, I’m Lee Jinki and I’m supposed to be starting my vocational placement at the Rosewood Ward today.”

The receptionist smiled at him brightly.

“Take the elevator to level three and there will be signs from there to guide you. Good luck!”

Jinki needed all the luck he could get.

The Rosewood ward was a dual unit, with both advanced cases of dementia and mentally ill patients. Jinki nervously stood at the nurses station door as his buddy nurse, Kibum, looked through some notes. The older AIN had dirty blonde hair and narrow eyes, giving him a cat like appearance. His skin was flawless which Jinki was instantly jealous of. He had a cheeky but confident vibe to him, which put Jinki at ease. Kibum gave him a basic run down of the two patients he’d be in charge of that day.

“So, Haeun is an eighty eight year old lady who we think is.. on her last legs. She doesn’t ask much, mostly since she’s lost her ability to speak, but she does seem to respond well to people talking to her. I just go in a talk about my day, or stories my friends tell me. Leave the tv on when you leave her room.” Kibum paused here and looked at Jinki. He could see how nervous the other young man was, but he had a kind face and Kibum had faith in him.

“Taemin is.. unique. He has bipolar disorder, he’s been here because of a manic episode that’s lasted six months now. They're tweaking his medication, but honestly nothing much is changing. He can take care of himself well enough, but he likes company. His family give him pocket money and he likes going to the cafe or out for a walk.”

“Okay, that all seems easy enough.” Jinki honestly had expected a heavier workload. “Is that really all I have to worry about?”

“For today, yes.”

Jinki was almost disappointed, but slightly relieved as well.

“If you want to check on people who buzz, you can. But we won’t expect you to for the first few days. We’ll let you find your feet first. Also I’ll need help with some of my patients, for changing and such, but those two are all we want you to focus on.”

Kibum stood up, and grabbed some gloves out of a box on the wall. He stuffed them in his pocket, and motioned for Jinki to do the same.

“It’s a pain to always have to reach for gloves, I usually keep a few pairs on me, just in case I have to rush somewhere.”

Jinki appreciated the tip. He was most worried about being slow and just being extra baggage to whoever he was assisting. He grabbed two pairs of medium sized gloves and stuck them in his pocket.

“Firstly, let’s go and turn and change Haeun. She’s been on her side too long and she’s still in her pajamas.” Kibum grabbed another pair of gloves and slipped them onto his hands effortlessly and fluidly. “You know why being on one side too long is bad, right?”

“Pressure ulcers.” Jinki did not have such an easy time with the gloves, but Kibum waited patiently for him to finish.

“Bingo.”

It was a small thing, but it made Jinki smile and raised his confidence just a little. He was suddenly very sure that he could do this, and absolutely certain he was in the right place.

Jinki had seen things he never wanted to see. It was an hour into his shift, and some of the things he’d seen, and smelled, were traumatising. But he’d put a brave face on it, and kept smiling throughout, and he figured that was important. He’d desensitise as time went by.

Kibum pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket and scanned the list closely.

“That’s just about it for now. Everyone’s changed and turned. I’ll introduce you to Taemin now if you like, and he’ll probably have some idea what he wants to do.” Kibum checked the nurses watch on his belt. “He’s a bit fanciful and talks a lot of nonsense, just go along with it and try not to upset him.”

Jinki nodded and followed Kibum down the hall to room 342.

Pushing the heavy door open, Kibum smiled brightly. Taemin was sitting on his bed cross legged, with the eating table across his knees. His hair was much longer than Jinkis: almost down to his shoulders, and curled slightly around the sides of his face. He had slightly chubby cheeks which gave him a youthful look. He was scribbling what could be either loopy handwriting or a poor drawing onto some printer paper. Taemin looked up at the interruption and instantly beamed.

“Kibum!”

“Good morning Taemin-ah.” Kibum ruffled his hair, which Taemin instantly smoothed down. “This is Jinki, he’s going to spend some time with you today okay?”

Taemin nodded and eyed Jinki carefully. Jinki was nervous, as this was the first psychiatric patient he’d seen yet, but he smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring and convincing manner. Taemin cracked a small smile.

“Okay.”

“Now some other people need my help, so I have to go. I’ll see you later, Taemin.”

“Okay! Bye!!”

As Kibum left, Jinki suddenly felt very unprepared. But he remembered all the classes he’d taken on good communication and building rapport, so he kept a bright smile on his face and decided to approach Taemin as he would anyone else.

“What are you writing there, Taemin?”

“Notes.” He said this very seriously. “This is all going to be very important when I go home.”

“What sort of notes?”

“It’s for my family. And my brothers cat, Minky.” Taemin pointed to a crudely drawn cat. “He’s grey. Do you like cats, Jinki?”

Jinki told Taemin that he liked cats and Taemin beamed.

“Good.”

“Is it okay if I sit?”

Taemin nodded and moved his legs so Jinki could sit on the bed with him.

“How long have I been here?” Taemin asked after a few moments of silence. “No one will tell me.” He clarified.

“How long do you think you’ve been here?” Jinki had been nervous only moments ago. That feeling was still there, but it was overshadowed by a growing interest in someone who couldn't seem to remember even that.

“I dont know. Maybe a month? My hair has grown a lot.”

“I see. Taemin have you seen the doctor today? You should ask him that.” Jinki wasn't sure if telling Taemin he’d been there for six months was such a good idea.

“I haven't seen him yet.” Taemin suddenly looked concerned. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine.” Jinki’s mind raced thinking of other things to talk about. “Do you have any close family?”

“My mum and my brother Taesun.” Taemin seemed almost absent minded as he now wrote in his loopy writing and spoke at the same time. “My dad works a lot so I don't see him much when I’m here”

“That’s good that you see your mum and brother often. How about friends?”

Taemin stopped writing.

“Not really. I lost all my friends a while ago. I had this boyfriend. He didn't like my friends and my friends didn't like him.”

Jinki hid his shock that Taemin was gay and let him continue.

“I decided that love is more important than friendship. What do you think, Jinki?”

Jinki was unsure how to answer that.

“I think if you don't regret it then you were right.”

“I do sometimes.”

“What happened to him?”

“I don’t really remember. It feels like a long time ago now.” Taemin’s voice trailed off, and Jinki got the feeling that he was tired of this topic. He started to worry what he should talk about next, but he didn't need to. Taemin put down the pen he was still holding and turned to Jinki.

“Can we go outside today? I want to see the pond.”

“Sure. It’s cold outside though, let’s get you a jacket.” Jinki was thankful for the distraction, and turned to Taemin’s closet. He rummaged through and took out a bright red pea coat.

“Let’s go, Taemin.”

[I’ve used my own experiences as a nurse to make this as authentic as possible, hopefully the subject doesnt upset anyone. I’m planning to have eight parts to this up over the next few weeks :) I’d also like to note that I originally wrote on quotev, and this is a rewrite of a story I published there. ]

[thestoryweneededtowrite]

"I cut my finger too deep while cooking but I don't want to go to the hospital and you're the med student who lives in the apartment across from mine; why can't you just stitch it up?" for sprace or javid? also can you tag @dailyau in the post? the prompt is from them) 💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞

This is a real old prompt so I’m so sorry it took so long! But thank you for passing it on from @dailyau. Also the working title for this in my saved documents is ‘noodles’… 

Content warning for minimal gore, but there’s quite a few mentions of blood and cuts.

Davey was colour coding notes when a knock on the doorsounded. He wasn’t expecting visitors at 2am so his first instinct was to ignoreit, but then the knocking sounded again and who disturbed someone at that timeof night unless there was a problem. Sighing at the disruption, Davey pushedhis textbook off his lap and laid his highlighters on top of it so he could answerthe door.

“What on Earth-?!”

The last thing he expected was the cute boy from across thehall standing on his doorstep cradling his hand against his chest. That wasn’tso bad, but then the boy – Jack, maybe? – moved his hand and there was a lot ofblood.

“So I was making noodles and-” Jack startedsheepishly, but Davey wasn’t having any of it.

“You did that making noodles?!” he asked.

He wasn’t exactly a noodle connoisseur himself but he waspretty certain the process didn’t even require a knife, let alone any actionsthat would result in the slit across the meaty part of Jack’s thumb that wasbleeding more that Davey was comfortable with. He wasn’t squeamish, but thatmuch blood meant it was a deep gash that definitely required stitches.

Jack just shrugged, like nothing was weird about this entiresituation. “Yeah, I was opening the tub with a knife and-”

Well that explained the wound, but Davey still didn’t havemuch of the bigger picture. His brain was working too slowly to process whatwas happening.

“It’s two in the morning, why are you cooking?” hepointed out. Not that he could talk. The empty box of the leftover takeawaythat he’d had for dinner had only been on his coffee table for about an hour. Atleast he hadn’t given himself a gory injury whilst eating it.

“I was painting and the time went a lot faster than Ithought it would,” Jack smiled, despite the cut. But when he winced and pulledhis hand back against his chest, getting even more blood on his shirt, it wasclear that he was in a lot of pain.

"You need to go to the hospital,” Davey diagnosed, grabbinghis coat from the hook near the door. He barely knew this guy, just glances inthe hallway, but he wasn’t about to make him trek to the hospital alone.

"No!” Jack protested, his eyes fearful. He reached outfor Davey’s arm to stop him, but pulled back before he got blood all over himtoo. “Look, I really can’t afford the bills. I don’t have insurance. I knowyou’re a med student, I heard you talking to your girlfriend, in thelift?”

That threw Davey a little. He understood not havinginsurance – he didn’t have any himself �� so he sighed and stepped aside to letJack into his apartment. If he wasn’t going to go to the hospital, then hestill shouldn’t be alone with that level of injury. But that still left aquestion.

“Girlfriend? What?” Davey asked. He was far toogay to have a girlfriend.

“Yeah, few weeks ago?” Jack guessed. “Dark hair, prettycute.”

Davey thought back. He hadn’t had anyone over in the pastfew weeks, definitely no girls and not even a guy. He didn’t really have thetime for relationships. Sarah had visited him once to bring him a little carepackage from home but- Ah. Right.

“Oh, Sarah? No! She’s my sister,” Davey explained witha small smile.

Jack grinned. He liked the sound of that. Cute single boyswere far better than cute boys with girlfriends. Looking around Davey’sapartment, something caught his eye. The rainbow flag sticker on the corner ofthe fridge was a surprise, but definitely a welcome one.

"No girlfriend, huh?” he winked. Davey just raisedan eyebrow and looked pointedly at Jack’s hand, trying hard not to blush.“Right yeah,” Jack said, returning to the bloody mess that his hand wasfast becoming. “Please, can’t you just stitch it up for me?”

That had Davey’s eyes bugging. He could do it. Technicallyhe had all the equipment he’d need – it really wasn’t much – and he knew how,but that didn’t make it a good idea.

“You want me to…? What, of course I can’t!” heexclaimed. He might not have known Jack very well but what he was learning hadhim surprised that he hadn’t had more knocks on his door about various householdcalamities in the past six months he’d been living in his apartment.

“Please,” Jack asked, and it was the first time he’dbeen serious. Davey had to admit that if he didn’t sew it up Jack’s hand and hewasn’t going to go to an emergency room, then they were going to have aproblem.

“I’m really not authorised to-” he began, still alittle unsure. He really didn’t wantto hurt the attractive boy.

Jack could tell Davey was almost convinced. Based on therainbow flag and the endearing blush to Davey’s cheeks, flirting was going toget him far.

“I ain’t going to tell anyone, sweetheart,” he saidcheekily, really wishing they’d met officially under better circumstances. Itwas too much fun to make Davey blush.

"You think you can charm me into sewing up your hand?!”Davey asked, shocked by the amount of audacity coming from a boy with a two-inchself-inflicted stab wound.

“I don’t know, can I?” Jack returned, still prettycocky. His charm had never failed him before.

Davey just groaned.

“Just… Sit down,” he ordered, collecting the tools he neededfrom around the apartment to give fixing Jack’s hand his best shot.

***

Davey had to admit that Jack was remarkably well-behavedwhilst he sewed up his hand. He’d clawed at the leg of his own jeans whilst theneedle had been going in but he’d mainly kept silent and still and stared at afixed point on the wall so he didn’t have to watch metal going through hisflesh. Davey had to admit that was fair enough. He’d seen the process and doneit enough times that it didn’t even bother him anymore, but Jack was, helearnt, an art student and was probably less desensitised to sewing up wounds.

The sutures weren’tperfect and his lecturers would probably disapprove of his style, but it wasthe best he could do with what he had and they were perfectly adequate as far asfunction went. Jack might end up with a scar, but it was going to heal justfine and it wasn’t going to cost him the earth in hospital bills. Ostensibly,it was a sewn up cut.

“Okay, it’s not perfect but I did the best with what I had.It’s just thread, so I’m going have to take them out later, okay?” Daveyexplained, wiping away the worst of what remained of the blood with somealcohol soaked cotton balls. He started cutting a bandage that would cover thecut and stop it from getting infected, since apparently Jack did stupid things withoutthinking and Davey definitely couldn’t prescribe him antibiotics for free.“You asking me on a second date?” Jack grinned, apparently finding his voiceagain “This wasn’t a date,” Davey said sternly, shaking his head as he fit the bandageover the cut and took his roll of medical tape and scissors to start securingit down.“You sure?” Jack teased.

Davey smirked. “You’re bleeding all over my sofa and I justput puncture wounds in your hand - I’d hope that most your dates have got a lotbetter than this in the past.”“You’d be surprised,” Jack shrugged. “’Sides, you’re cute.”

A lot of his dates had been with people a lot less interestingand far less pretty. He counted this night as a win. Course, he’d prefer it ifthey both were less deliriously tired and were actually on a real date.“Go home. Rest,” Davey said, but he was smiling from the compliment and hereally wanted to see Jack some more. Preferably with less blood involved.

“Give me your number? So I can call you. Y’know, about thestiches,” Jack said, clearly lying.“Right, of course,” Davey laughed.

He grabbed a spare sticky note and scribbled down his number.After a second’s thought he added a collection of tips for Jack to look afterthe cut and change the dressing. Even so, he was pretty certain there’d beanother knock at his door in the near future, with Jack needing more help. Hewasn’t too mad about it.

[literaturely-a-mess]

The Letter: Chapter One

Paper fluttered out of her hand down to the floor. That was it one more, and final, letter wrote. Two minutes more. That’s all she needed. Two minutes of pain and sorrow; then everything would finally be still. Eye lids fluttered closed. Her breathing evened out. She smiled.    

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Alex!"    

She breathed in and out, lost to the world. The last thing she heard is a sob and the sound of a siren in the distance.   

He holds Alex in his arms, hugging her as if he let go she would disintegrate. The smell of her hair and the colour of her cheeks seems to simultaneously overwhelm the room and fade away. He heard the door open.   

“How long has she been out?” “I need to take a pulse.” “Sir, please move away so we can do our jobs.” “What did she take?” An endless barrage of questions fall on deaf ears as he clings to his friend. Strong hands ease him away from the scene, pulling him to the edge of the room and facing him towards the window. It’s snowing.   

He’s unsure how many hours have crawled by before a woman in a uniform ushers him from the now empty attic bedroom. All he can think of is the ashen colour of her skin and the paper crunching under foot. The paper! He grabbed it before the officers arrived. Before he could slip away to read it his train of thought was interrupted by the women, Officer Jennings he remembers, asking him…uh something. Blinking he responds, “Can you repeat that?"   

“I understand this must be a traumatising occurrence Mr…” “Elliot, Elliot Norton.” “Mr. Norton. In effort to understand what led to Miss. Braley’s efforts to take her life I must ask you a few questions. Can you handle that Mr. Norton?"    “Uh…yeah, I think I can do that.”    

“What happened when you arrived at Miss. Braley’s house?”   

Elliot shivers. He recalls the events of today. All of the warning signs. Her comments and subtle attempts at distancing herself from the people around her in classes. How she didn’t respond to his phone calls. How he wasn’t fast enough.   

“Is Alex going to be okay?” Mind reeling, that was all he could focus on. “Miss. Braley…Alex…should be just fine, thanks to you Elliot. Can you please tell me what happened before you called us?"   

“Okay,” Elliot sighs. “We were supposed to study at my house today and she never showed. When she didn’t answer my phone calls,” crap the messages, “I came over. No one was home so I used the spare key, I house sit for their family, to let myself in. She wasn’t in her room. That’s when I called you, because she was either missing or something had happened. I heard something come from upstairs and I ran up her to…to find…she was…” He couldn’t say it.  “It’s okay Elliot. We don’t need much more from you. Did Alex give you any clues that she was thinking of self harm?"    

“I don’t…no…not that I…” He couldn’t finish.    

“It’s okay Elliot. Do you have someone I can contact to take you home?"    

“My sister. Ros. Her number is…it’s ahhh…I can call her, it’s in my phone.” Elliot removes the hideous shock blanket someone must have bestowed on him when he was ushered out of the attic. Pushing through the officers he manages to escape into the kitchen, trying to breathe. How many times is this now? Six? Seven? He doesn’t have a clue. At least his shocked facade was growing more believable. The police didn’t even do a second round of questions. He doesn’t want Alex to suffer more than she already does. It's always hard, seeing your girl, no your friend-just friend-in that situation. You’d think the teen boy would be desensitised a bit by now. He thought that Alex was getting better. It had been over a year since her last attempt, an attempt that shook Elliot to his very core. He found Alex on the bridge—the one that he crossed everyday on his way home from downtown. An old stone thing, ivy growing everywhere, he and Alex would sit there sometimes watching the water and talking for hours. He found her passed out, blood spilling everywhere, on the far end of the north pillar. The place they always sat, hidden from the road if you didn’t know it was there. That one had been hard to handle. Sometimes the boy had to stop and wonder if this was supposed to be a normal pat of life. Is one supposed need more than one hand to count the number of times he’s written a letter or found a friend?    

He opens his phone, the smooth glass is warm from his back pocket, and dials Ros.  

“Ros here.” Her bell tones were rough, she must still be at work.    

“Ros, it’s Eli. I have a situation…” His voice was a whisper.     “

Did you get arrested?” “No.” “Are you in the hospital?” “No.” “Are you hurt?” “NO.” Are you in immediate danger?” “No, Ros shut up for a second. I’m fine. It’s Alex. She tried again,” he explained.    

“Oh…Did you find her this time?” Her voice filled with concern for her little brother.    

“Yeah, the police won’t let me walk home so I need you to come get me."    

“El, my shift doesn’t end for another 30 minutes. What happened?"    

“She slit her wrists this time. She left a note."    

“Okay, let me get Kelly to cover my sections.” She hangs up without waiting for a response. She’ll be there in 20 minutes. Elliot returns to the living room where the last two officers are whispering over their pads with intense looks on their faces. Shit. They turn towards the teen as he edges in and towards the couch. Elliot knows they have probably figured out that this is a common occurrence for Alex. There hasn’t been a year since her 13th birthday when Alex hasn’t been hospitalised at least once for self destructive behaviour. She’s always been on the edge of going over into that place—you know, the one that causes its victims to drown in the sun and collapse under the unseen boulder crushing their lungs; the place right on the edge of not being able to turn back. That’s where she has lingered for the past five years.    

“Mr. Norton, were you aware of Miss. Braley’s history of self harm?” The male officer steps towards Elliot, the click of his boots echoing off of the stark walls in the Braley residence, “She has a record of suicide attempts spanning almost six years and hospitalisations littering that time due to severe self harm. Were you aware of this history?”    

“Yes officer, but I did not know she was declining. The last time I saw her she seemed completely fine and exhibited no symptoms of her depression worsening.” He never once looked away from the officer, if there was one thing Elliot knows like no one else it is how to lie.    

The past few weeks had been incredibly dicey with Alex. She was irritable to say the least. Eli had noticed her wearing longer shorts than normal and her eye makeup has been much heavier. What she had told him was disheartening to say the least. A memory stirs.   

“Eli, can I be honest with you?” Alex curls up next to him as the opening tones of Star Wars ring through the empty house. “I know you mean well,” she cooed and ruffles his hair, “but can we not talk about my sessions any more? I already have to deal with them once, and that’s enough for me.” Her eye pleaded for a relief. She’s crying out silently for help; Elliot could see it plainly. The thought of ‘you can lead a horse to water’ comes to his mind. He knew Alex would come to him if she really needed help. The past has taught him that words don’t always speak their meanings clearly especially where Alex is concerned.    

“Okay A. I only wanted to be here for you.”

“I know Eli. I know. You are, but I need something different right now. Can we just watch the movie?"    

“Sure.” They turned back to screen and only the score and the crunch of popcorn accompanied the thoughts screaming in Elliot’s mind.    

The officers were packing up as Ros pulls up in her black chariot of junk as Eli calls it, her Dodge Neon. Without checking Elliot bolts to the car, through the living room and out the front door, faster than he though possible at, was it 11:30 already? Ros takes off before he even has his seatbelt fastened. She was still wearing her uniform, the fabric barely enough to cover her, and wrapped in the faux-fur coat she wears for show. She doesn’t say a word until they pull up to the house just across the neighbourhood, a subdivision with two divisions—the rich and the not so rich. Keeping up with the Jones is a real syndrome in Willow Brooks Acres, the peaceful smell of neighbourly rivals and seared skin from pruning bushes for three days straight a common occurrence as neighbours try to top each other’s lives. Both siblings hate the bull pen they live in, but know that it is not permanent. Ros shuts the car off and turns to her brother. “Okay. Dad is home so we need to talk now. What happened?"    

“I’m not sure. She’s been bad for a while. I told you about last weekend right?” His sister nods and encourages Elliot to continue. “Well, I had texted her to see if she wanted to avoid her dad by coming over to work on her radio. She didn’t respond until I was already out walking to her house. Her text was robotic so I ran over. She had already slit her wrists, but I think she took some pills too. I’ll visit the hospital in the morning. I’m probably not going to sleep anyways.”    

“Do you want me to cover for you tonight instead?” His sister offers as Elliot shakes his head.    

“Nah. She’s not going to be awake anyways. Besides, they won’t let me in until tomorrow, she looked pretty bad.” He trailed off, the image of his best friend rising to the forefront of his mind. “I’m going to read her letter anyways; that should keep me busy for a while. It looks like a big one.” The two stiffly end their conversation and hurry inside to find their father sprawled on the couch and mother no where to be seen. A usual Wednesday night. The kitchen is a mess, also fitting within status quo, and the mud closet looks as if a heard of elephants had trampled through it, knocking over the shoes and recycling bin that was only one third filled with beer bottles and coke cans. The stairs are just to the left of the entrance and the pair tiptoes up to their respective rooms. It may only be eleven but waking their father after what looks to be a night of drinking and a sizeable row with their mother is not the way they want to end the day. Ros slides into the first door, black and covered with chalk writing, and locks it behind her. Elliot’s door is third. He whispers a goodnight to his sister and closes his normal white door behind him.    

The door is about the only normal thing in Elliot’s room, or cave as he calls it. It’s littered with books and posters and post it notes stuck to any surface flat enough to hold them. His desk is a mass of paper and note books with just a large enough space clear for a laptop. Eliot slides into his bed after changing, wrapping himself in the thready Shakespeare bedspread Alex made him at camp when she was 14. He clutches her letter, daring himself not to open it. The rip of paper is louder than Elliot expected. Gingerly he unfolds the pages, five of them this time, and thumbs them before adjusting his bedside lamp and adjusting his glasses.    

Hey Eli. Listen if you haven’t already, don’t cry. We’ve been through this a lot. I’ve been through this a lot. I’ve put you through this a lot. That’s why I’m making this one last. No person is worth the pain I cause. You’re the only person I have and that’s why this letter is only addressed to you. I never know what to write in these things. Just don’t waste my memory okay? Don’t put me on the shelf in a little box like everyone else will. You know there’s more to me than that. And for fucks sake please don’t tell your sister anything I put in this letter.    

Elliot puts the pages down. He can’t read this tonight. Not without knowing if she will be okay. He may put on an act when he has to deal with adults, but no one understands what it is like to see your closest friend like that unless they have experienced that feeling themselves. There is only one picture in Elliot’s room. It’s tacked to the wall right above his head. He plucks it off the wall, the wrinkled edges smoothing out under his fingers as he flatness it for the hundredth time. Alex smiling up Elliot wipes some ice cream onto her nose. He remembers that day like it was yesterday. They were 14. He calls that day the last good day. Tonight Elliot would dream of her face on that day.

[darktyrannomon]

i will be the fall

Confusion cluttered his ears like an Infestation, and with every step he felt he was either lost, or coming close to something big. Back, what seemed like eons ago, but was perhaps just a week, Kaleb had first, really felt, just how "other" he was from the rest of the group.

He remembered their interrogation, knowing that he mixed up his words more often than most, so that their meaning became increasingly unclear, so settled for being an imposing body with a Mankey wrapped up in his Thorn Whip. They questioned the bandit, and he pulled the strings to emphasise the threats Cactus made, working with the Sandshrew in the only way he really knew how. When they had finished, the Mankey a bumbling mess in the vines' embrace, they started to argue. The argument itself was fuzzy, and unclear, and his nose screwed up at suggestions to let the pig-goblin run free, but the gist of it was; "How do we dispose of him?" Well, Kaleb didn't see what the cause of debate was there: the Mankey was one who destroyed lives, and trees sacred to the Gods, and the First World, he should die on the spot. But he hadn't spoke. The curl of his lip bared teeth, longer than the City Eevee these town-livers knew of, and the barely healed scars across his eye crinkled with the furrowing of his brow. Why did the Nidoran defend the monster? Why could Sassafras not see what was right in front of her eyes? Why did Cactus, with all his words, woven along the fine line between truth, and lie, not find the right ones for the situation? Nina was silent. The Dryad was distressed. The Mankey bawled. With a swift movement, he settled the argument at the peak of it's volume, and took an arrow from his quiver. "It is done." He had said, and the vines unravelled to the pig-monkey falling face-flat on the floor. Kaleb cleaned the arrow, and placed it with the others. This act of decisiveness was the thing that earned him the lingering confusion, like flies around a walking corpse; their looks of utter horror bothered him. "Why did you do that?!" A chorus of voices chimed at him. Kaleb remembered his blood turning cold, and his expression followed. "You were discussing how to dispose of him. I took the initiative." Was his simple response, and the small party, unsure as they was disturbed, mumbled away, shooting looks at him when they thought he couldn't see. Very well, Kaleb thought, his paws gripping tight on his staff, I'll be your scapegoat; I'll take the tough calls, as long as it makes you feel better about yourselves. I can play "scary wild man". Easy. Everything about these people was so alien to him, and he did not understand why killing the Mankey was a bad thing - it was what they had been planning to do, all along... wasn't it? Tenzekil too... pardon the pun, but were they not out to kill him, too? From the start they were working to find and "deal" with Tenzekil, for he had attempted a hit on the life of the Earl's son (an important person, apparently, but Kaleb didn't exactly see why... but his partner in love was a very good sport), disrupted a congregational celebration to which many may have been hurt, and disrupted the nature of the land itself by allying himself with this Rhoswin character. Kaleb half expected her to jump out from a rock wherever they walked from the mismatched stories they heard about her. Tenzekil's army defiled trees sacred to the Gods and the first world, killing and burning dryad after dryad, until all but one's sisters had gone. The trees seemed to be inflicted with the same sickness that the Bulbasaur carried - but that was when the buzzing started, the confusion, clouding his head like walking into a gnat-storm. Apparently Kaleb was by now desensitised to the whole thing, because frown lines were settling in for a comfortable ride. "You'll never find them." Kaleb had scoffed when Cactus asked if he wanted to send a message, like he had with every stranger they had met on this journey. After, he regretted not putting his pride aside to ask Sassafras to write a note for him, telling them his progress and to watch the borders closely, and that he was travelling to the First World - everything the planar guardians should know. He did not want these City Slickers to know he couldn't write Common, and later, in the First World, he regretted those words like a knife in the gut. He was constantly on guard for anything that might be following them, lest they stumbled on a hidden  army, or that theory of Rhoswin hiding under a rock, and following into the Fell Night Realm was no different. They were in enemy territory - but still, Sassafras felt the need to implant a semi permanent flower to the arch they came through; one bright star in the black landscape. Though his expression seemed permanently grim, he still lived in that gnat storm. There was no way to tell direction, save the Pidgey's natural compass for North, and the landscape was as alien as the group he travelled with. Kaleb knew he was lost, but he was far too proud to admit it out loud. Still, his senses were sharp, and he noticed the trap as soon as his eyes laid on the shadow, and his bolt planted skilfully in front of it's feet. It was foolish to trust these monsters, but for some buzzing, annoying, gut feeling reason, he trusted Cactus' words - and he trusted his weapons. The naivety Sassafras displayed in front of these creatures perhaps helped out the play, but it frustrated Kaleb to no end. He sought comfort at the back of the group, with Nina. He trusted in Nina's fire, and she had watched him sprint to keep pace with three unicorns for half an hour solid - somehow, Kaleb felt that that was an activity you couldn't help but "bond" over, even if its just for the purely bizarre experience that it was. He wanted to ask her opinion of the trip, of their goal, and why she chimed in with Sassafras over not killing the Bulbasaur, with Tenzekil being rather the antagonist in her life as they knew it; but he could not form the words. He must have still been feeling fuzzy, because the mould situation was something else entirely. Suddenly he forgot all his training, and everything was so.... wrong here. Wrong like the shadow following that no one else could see. He remembered gripping the handle of his crossbow, waiting for the inevitable trap to be sprung. He told Nina about the one following, but he told Cactus everything he could without others listening in. He dared not tell Sassafras a thing, lest she blundered into conversation about it. He still didn't believe the goblin about that dark entity they fought. ...Maybe he didn't want to believe. "What will you do with Tenzekil?" The Fairies had asked, the first-worlders asked, the second-worlders asked. "We plan to dispose of him." "We plan to talk to him!" "We plan to take him out of the Fell Night Realm, and help him with his sickness." "We plan to kill him." Cactus had given him a strange, eyeballing look. Kaleb was confused. This is what they had signed up for, after all? Well maybe not Sass, but Tenzekil had also attacked her at the waterfalls... What was the point in covering it up with pretty words? Nevertheless, Cactus and his silver tongue came in to assure Sassafras and Nina that they would try talking to him first. Oh how Kaleb would "try". He had just wanted the arrow, he assured himself as he mended Cactus' hat, as he pieced together what the Sandshrew was not telling them, and plopped it back on his head. He only just managed to mask his own, satisfied smile as the Sandshrew beamed at him. He just wanted the arrow. The wild shape flickered through his muscles as he morphed into a lean canine, familiar in markings to the dead and shrivelled Aspen that corroded beneath one of Devarre's traps, but bigger, meaner, faster. He felt fire in his gut and lunged for the leg of the assailant, unflinching to the sap and gore that trickled down his maw and neck. He felt flame flicker behind his teeth, ready to set this lech alight, but he disappeared. Each time he got the Bulbasaur, his plan to douse him in fire failed, and he scrambled out of the way just in time to be spared from the firey mouth of the Wild Growlithe. It came to Kaleb's mind, that in that moment, he could have morphed into something badder, bigger, if he chose the path of the Druid. He new a few paltry Druid spells, and like the rest of his clan, fluid in basic Wild Shape. But, there were others, like his mother, like the Queen, who chose to study the Circle of The Moon, and could turn into huge, simply monstrous things, and still ignite spells at their paw tips enough to split craters in the mountain side. Then there were the Rangers who walked the planes, keeping tabs on the gates and making sure that minimal traffic came through. As of now, he was just a warrior. A warrior who taught skills to the current Princess, but still, a warrior. His maw gnashed at the multiple Bulbasaur, grabbing the real one by a hair's width, so that his form shook into the kaleidoscope that was the old man's spell. The Princess... Caught up in this matter of the planes, of the Fey and of the mortal world, he had forgotten his quest. The Growlithe's eyes rolled as his teeth sank into more sap infused flesh, doggedly pursuing the man. This old, decrepit soul was a drop in the river next to finding his kin. He would do whatever needed to be done, go wherever he needed to go... and be... be whoever this group needed him to be to find his Princess. Whether that person be Judge, Jury, or Executioner. He saw Cactus stumble in the brambles next to him, and immediately, he shot up. Brambles raked across his Growlithe form, opening up old wounds and nicking the cut across his eye, forcing him out of form before he landed nimbly on three points, just outside the ring of thorns, back to his Eevee self. The healing scars across his eye were still bleeding, but he was relatively unharmed, for the wild shape took most of the damage. He did not look at Nina, though he could feel her heat; nor Sassafras, though he heard her song; or Cactus, extracting himself from the Wall Of Thorns; but simply drew the staff from his back, a grim expression latching the edge of his maw, eyes cold as he calculated what needed to be done. He would take the blow for the others... free them from the monstrous responsibility they were facing. He cast Thunderwave. He remembered the decisive stamp of the staff against the floor, the force resonating like a thundercrack from his unflinching body, waiting for the noise, or lack thereof, to tell him he had succeeded. Sure enough, through the hole, the body of the Bulbasaur man was strewn, crucified, across his own Wall Of Thorns, hitting Kaleb with a gritted smile of grim satisfaction. The women of the group, strong, bold, and bardic warriors that they were, were not the ones to make the finishing blow, which filled Kaleb with relief. They had wanted to talk the Bulbasaur down, which was the only reason he wished for either himself or Cactus to make it - he had a feeling that the Sandshrew was hiding secrets of his own, that he had done similar types of jobs before. Like Kaleb, Cactus knew what needed to be done. Maybe Sassafras and Nina knew in their hearts there was nothing they could do - but they were still filled that that.... hope, that optimism. The realist in Kaleb reeled, sending that gnat storm running rampant in his ears again... But, he was glad. As unattached as he was to this group, the feeling that any one of them felt responsible for the old man's demise sat on Kaleb like...  well, a Wall Of Thorns. It made him uncomfortable to see them look sadly on at Tenzekil's body, but it was sure as the Torn World better than how this scene would have sat if either of them were the ones to end it. Kaleb chose to leave the thing Cactus was hiding for a later discussion, his focus on Nina as her paws began to spark. Something in his gut urged to comfort her, but he did not know how to, and was loathe to ask, so he kept his face stony as Tenzekil's body turned to ash. Sassafras saved any awkward words that got stuck around his jowls, filling the air with music, and Nina joined her. It was poignant in a way that Kaleb did not understand. At least, he thought, they seem somewhat at peace. May the Gods watch your path over the Astral Sea, Tenzekil, and may they give you the chance they think you deserve. Kaleb scooped up the ashes of Tenzekil into a vial, leaving no trace behind, as the Fey King bequeathed of them.