#so it’s going to be a patchwork of things once it’s actually finished

[starlit-clouds]

This is it. The funniest lines I will ever write. I’ve peaked as an author. There’s no going up or improving on this. It’s all downhill from here.

[eightmakesonebraincell]

the essence of youth is summers with you (teaser)

genre: poly!surfers!ateez x fem!reader, childhood best friend!san, sort of college!au, slice of life and coming of age, slow burn, fluff, angst

length: 1.5k (teaser) + approx. 38k (full fic)

c/w: surfer!ateez (deserves a warning), explicit profanity, more angst when you think things will get better, remaining tags to be revealed with full fic

synopsis: when you move away from your hometown at the age of six, you discover that summer in namhae takes the form of a skinny, dimpled boy who loves the sea and holding hands– choi san. but as the summers go past and he goes to seoul for college, bringing back new friends each year, you start to develop feelings that run deeper than just friendship. will your summers of youth become ones of love and dreams, or will they end in pain and heartbreak?

a/n: surprise!! we’re actually using full stops and paragraphs for once! full fic will be released in exactly one week so enjoy these crumbs until then

you’re all sitting on a patchwork of picnic blankets and beach towels spread around the small fire that san has constructed, now experienced from having made one three years in a row. haneul shares the towel with you on one side and yunho on your other.

dinner had been greasy meat grilled by wooyoung’s skilled hands paired with cheap alcohol that made you all wince when it went down. it had been finished off with skewered marshmallows– the most vital part of the night, as mingi had fervently reminded everyone.

someone had then suggested a round of ‘truth or dare’, which most definitely did not stop at one round. the flushed cheeks and tipsy slurs not only made the dares increasingly bizarre, but it made everyone daring enough to actually do them.

but as the night had continued on, the outlandish dares slowly trickled off and more of you picked to answer truth questions. with the mellowing ambience of the campfire and the clearing buzz of alcohol in your systems, it was only a matter of time before the night fizzled into calm.

“mingi,” haneul directs her question at the taller, “ if you were to date one of us excluding me, who would it be?”

his eyes dart from her to you and then to every single one of his friends.

“i’d date you all,” he shrugs. “but if i had to pick one person, then probably yunho, since he’s been there for me from day one.”

yunho knocks shoulders with him appreciatively whilst joking, “your parents would love to hear that answer.”

you spot san and wooyoung cringing at the thought and you’re reminded of snippets of a conversation about surfing as a distraction and escape from home.

“seonghwa, truth or dare?” mingi asks, moving the game on to the next person.

“truth.”

“if you had to pick between love and friendship, which one would it be?”

seonghwa hums for a while, watching the dancing lick of flames.

“i think it depends on the situation, because in the end, they’re not that much different from each other. in love there is friendship, and in friendship there is love. it’s impossible to say that one is more important than the other.”

there’s a collective boo as he skirts around the question, but you all understand where he’s coming from.

it still doesn’t stop san from retorting, “the whole point is to pick one.”

seonghwa chuckles and downs half a shot to appease the other of his apparent half answer, then tosses the same question at him.

“what about you, then?”

much to his disappointment, san actually has an answer.

“i would probably choose love. i think you’re right in saying you can’t separate love and friendship, but the thing that sets a romantic relationship apart is being in love,” he muses. “it’s hard to find friends you love, but it’s even harder to find a friend you fall in love with, so i would probably hold onto that no matter what.”

a few of you subconsciously nod along, words resonating with yourselves.

haneul nudges you curiously, “what do you think?”

you relax into her side as you slowly formulate a cohesive answer from your thoughts.

“i think i would choose love, too. i’ll admit it’s a much more difficult relationship than friendship and it often requires sacrifices to be made…it can even mean having to let go of somebody completely.”

hongjoong glances at you, guilt pricking at his chest.

“but at the same time,” you continue, “when you love somebody that much, sacrifice becomes something you want to give and are willing to offer to the other person, and you develop a depth of understanding, connection and intimacy strong enough to overcome anything that isn’t always possible with friendship.”

“you and san are both such gross romantics,” haneul pretends to gag.

“yeah, shoot us for it,” you poke her in the side. “wooyoung, truth or dare?”

“since everyone’s picking truth…truth.”

“who’s someone you’re sorry towards or thankful for?”

he whines indignantly, “why are we suddenly getting so personal,” but proceeds to think about his answer seriously.

“if i’m honest, i’m sorry towards everyone. i know there are times i fall short as a friend and make mistakes, but you all always forgive me and embrace my imperfections so graciously. sometimes it makes me wonder if i even deserve you guys.”

there are immediate noises of protest and wooyoung smiles, waving away their words of objection because he knows that he’s wrong. it’s just that knowing doesn’t always stop him from feeling a certain way.

“and of course, what i’m sorry for goes hand in hand with what i’m thankful for. but i’m also especially thankful for y/n,” he reveals.

your body reacts instantly to his unexpected answer, blood rushing towards your cheeks and ears as he looks at you appreciatively.

“i haven’t known you for as long as most of the other boys, but i’ve seen how happy and vibrant they all are whenever they return to seoul or whenever they talk about you. and i can definitely see why, now. you make them happy– you make us happy.”

mingi clears his throat, jumping in to add to the younger’s answer, “when i’m here in namhae with you, with everybody, it feels like home.”

a home that he’s never really had until yunho, san, you, and the rest of the boys came along.

“so thank you for giving me a home here,” mingi looks at you earnestly.

if he were sitting closer, you would reach over and squeeze his hand reassuringly.

“no matter how many years go by, you’ll always have a home here,” you tell him instead.

“and the rest of us?” yunho jokes, lightly slapping your knee where your legs have slowly made their way into his lap over the night.

“you all have a home here,” you amend.

because namhae is not the same without san, and namhae is not the same without the rest of your friends, either.

you continue asking each other questions, even after midnight has long ticked past and haneul has retired back to the beach house for some sleep. nobody wants the night to end, because despite already having been attached to each other’s hips all summer, the time you are spending now around the campfire is different.

life slows down and the nine of you are the only ones to exist along with the stars and the ocean waves.

“you know what we should do?” wooyoung pipes up when you are all quietly watching the fire.

he grins, “we should do that thing where we shout at the ocean.”

“just…straight up scream?” hongjoong frowns.

a smile starts to spread across san’s face as he understands wooyoung’s vision.

“no, like our dreams. regrets. confessions,” san elaborates, making a move to stand and brushing the sand off his shorts.

seonghwa questions, “are we really doing this?” and yet he stands up as well.

“when will we ever get a chance to do this again?”

one by one, you all get up on your feet and wander down the beach closer towards the water. it’s silent, save for the crash of waves, while you eye each other and wait for somebody to start it off.

yunho clears his throat, then yells his next words from the very depths of his chest, “i want to become a famous choreographer!”

there are shared giggles at the striking contrast in volume after hours of low, heartfelt conversation, but it’s enough to fill the rest of you with courage and desire to do the same.

“i want my parents to accept that i won’t be a lawyer like they wanted me to be!” yeosang calls out.

mingi takes a huge breath with his entire body, “i hope i’ll win the lottery one day!”

you all break out into laughter, happiness and vigour running high through your veins. it definitely feels a little silly and a little childish, but is that not the charm of living in the prime years of your youth and spending it with your friends?

reservations now completely thrown to the wind, the boys holler and yell both serious and unserious aspirations with their entire soul, cupping the sides of their mouths with their hands to carry their voices further out across the waters. you watch them with deep affection and tenderness and your eyes suddenly start to well up with the intensity of your emotions.

thank you for showing me what love feels like.

you can continue to love them as friends, and that is already more than you could ever ask for.

taking a deep inhale of the chill of emerging dawn and blinking away the blur in your eyes, you join the boys and yell your heart out to the ocean. your screams blend together into a symphony of dreams and hopes; the swell of the chorus and the pinnacle of the movie.

and even though you’re all half-delirious from the lack of sleep, hair ruffled and mismatched pajamas wrinkled, it feels like anything and everything is possible in this moment.

from here on, it’s the nine of you against the world and whatever it may bring.

apply for taglist | comment below to be tagged for this fic only

@thecarnivaloflies @binchanluvrr @iykyunho @ppprimary @hwas-housewife

@itza-meee @lavishloving @okshu @mizumigi @everythingboutkpop

@ayytease @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hongjoongsprincess @booyoungie @green-agent

@darkmentalitystarfish-blog @taytayy178 @babymbbatinygirl @oddracha @sourkimchi

@itstheghostofmypast @kiki277 @kibs-and-bits @mlysalt @jjoongstar

@aaa-sia @nollamuumialaaksossa @skz1-4-3 @minkilicious @veebyvee

@ddeonghwva @delulu18 @teenyfinds @shakalakaboomboo @hxpelessxcean

@fureastel @seomisaho

[onyourowndaisymae]

don't mind me... just thinking about the demon brothers slowly dropping the rest of their roster for you as they fall head over heels...

lucifer // mammon // levi // satan // asmo // beel (you are here) // belphie -- others coming soon, NSFW warning below, gn!reader

beelzebub, who doesn't have the capacity to get to know you in the way he should. it seems that every season of his life comes with heartbreaking turmoil, and he just has to get used to that feeling of emptiness in his stomach. first, with the celestial war, he lost lilith. now, as the exchange program began, he had to say goodbye to his twin brother for an entire year. he hopes you don't take it personally-- he just can't spare the mental or emotional energy to embrace your arrival like he should.

beelzebub, who can't thank you enough for the way you've repaired his family. he never would have suspected that you had been forming the pacts with his brothers to release belphie from the attic. a small, nervous part of him wonders if you had been nice to him just to get his pact, that you didn't mean all those things you said-- but he knows you. even if you had been lying, you did it for the right reasons. and after all, everything worked out, right? you're here, belphie's back, and the months since his twin's return have been nothing but happy. you have single-handedly stitched his patchwork family back together. beel can't find a way to show how important all you've done for his family really means, but he'll keep trying anyways.

beelzebub, who likes you a lot, actually. he's never been too keen romance. most of his interactions had been spurred on by the other party. he's been attracted to people who are kind yet self-assured, seeking him out first. all of his experiences in crushes, in romance, in bed, have all been a game of follow the leader-- not due to a lack of interest on his part, but because of trauma-ridden aloofness that caused him to focus on the things he still had. romance never topped the priority list... at least, not until it came to you. beel saw you as a member of the family for a long time, longer than he maybe should have. but there's something special about you. something about you that makes him love you differently than he does his brothers. he just wants to have you around, always, sharing meals and movies and glances across the dinner table that make his brothers squirm. he's finally found someone special in his life-- someone he's going to give romance a try for.

beelzebub, who has never been good at controlling his appetite. it hits him at the worst of times, constantly, gnawing at his insides until he can't ignore it. that was why he is stuck in this position. a hunger brews in him, all adrenaline from the latter half of the fangol game and lust, and-- fuck, he needs relief. water beats loudly against the tiles, disguising the deep growl in his throat as he tugs impatiently at his aching cock once, twice, listening hard to make sure no one else was still in the locker room. he listens until he couldn't anymore, until his hand began to move impatiently on its own, another growl rumbling in his chest before he relents and begins pleasuring himself. his mind wanders to you, on the railing of the bleachers, screaming your lungs out in support of his team, feet pounding against the metal steps as you jumped about. you were there for him, cheering for him, watching his every move. he imagines you creeping in to reward him after everyone else left, perched on your knees on the locker room floor, wide eyes watching him with so much love as you swallow his cock, plush lips wrapped around his shaft as you take him as far as you can. just the thought makes his cock throb in his hand. he didn't have long to finish himself off and head out, but his mind couldn't help but linger on the image a bit longer...

beelzebub, whose date night just got a whole lot better. the two of you had spent the evening at hell's kitchen eating your fill (or in beel's case, eating them out of stock) then coming back to the house of lamentation for a movie. but your hand began to wander during the movie-- not towards the snacks, which he offered you several times as your gaze began to wander, but to his upper thigh. your fingers creep in further, until you're brushing against the seam of his pants. he hardens at your touch, your gaze, the steady sound of your breathing next to him. he shoots you a curious look. he quietly warns you that yours fingers are touching him in a particular place-- surely you know that already? you nod. he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you onto his lap. his view of the screen may be obstructed, but it's obvious that the movie has fallen to the wayside for now. it's him that takes the initiative to guide your hips into a steady grind against his own, little gasps escaping yours lips as he watches you more intently than he ever did the screen. grinding turns to kissing and kissing turns to grabbing, his big hands grabbing at your sides, your ass, your thighs, spreading you open for him. his fingers slip past the waistline of your pants and begin to toy with your sex through your underwear. you begin to tug at his sweatpants, desperately reaching for his cock while rutting into his hand. his cock springs free-- fuck, he's massive-- and you whine for it. you tugged your pants off in a few hurried movements. he tries to warn you about needing more prep, but his words die in his throat as you whimper for it, tell him how much you need him. his eyes and mind both glaze over with lust as gathers your juices and scissors them inside of your entrance, reaching deeper and deeper as you grip his broad shoulders and moan. when you're ready, he lines you up over his cock and lets your sink onto his length. you're so tight and soft and his head is spinning. fuck. the drag of his cock through your insides makes him groan. he doesn't even realize he's pinned your back against the couch until you look up at him with wide eyes and murmur his name. he starts to pull back, but you repeat his name-- your tone is laced with lust, hands reaching for him to come closer, and he does. he hovers close enough to brush his lips against your ear and apologize. you're a strong human, right? you can handle a little roughness? his hips pull back then thrust roughly into you, making your vision blur for just a moment, before he begins a truly sinful pace. a new sort of appetite brews within him-- and you know he's never been good at resisting his gluttonous urges.

taglist for this series: @the-demonus-aunt // @scienceisfornerds // @hostilemakeover // @snow-fall1 // @kachan890 // @rphantom1 // @respitable

[sp0o0kylights]

[gasps] number 10 you had me at steddissy!!

Fun Facts about Patchworks, it and Chokechain where the two fics I was like "I'm not gonna post these until theyre complete theyre so close!!" and then posted parts of anyway lmao. Patchworks ended up needing a bit more than Chokechain did to finish it out but she's close.

This one also hasn't gotten The Red Pen of death Editing yet.

Snippet:

"I can't fucking belive this." Robin hisses, and Steve just sighs. 

"How are you still mad?"

"How!? How could I be mad that after struggling with my sexuality; fighting it with tears and--and constant doubt for years, you just threw up once and that was it!"

She drops her voice as deep as it'll go, mocking Steve's own. "Guess I'm queer now, let me get my coffee." 

"That's a horrible impression of me."

"Accurate you mean." Robin mutters darkly. "For the record I don't think you're fine by the way, I think you're repressing it." 

"I'm not repressing anything Robin, I told you I'm comfortable liking both." 

"Not the queerness, dingus, the reaction to the queerness!" 

"I think you're just mad I'm better at being gay than you." 

Robin gapes, mouth swimming through the movements without a sound. 

Oh, he's really pissed her off, and Steve delights in that too, in a way only siblings and soulmates can. 

"Better than me!?" She finally sputters, and Steve settles his hip against the counter, hands crossing smugly over his chest.

"Yes." 

"You--you!" Robin's shaking a finger at him, and if steam could have come from her ears they would have. 

Steve doesn't fight his grin.

"Talking," she says finally, slamming a stack of VHS's on the counter opposite him, and God is he thankful that Family Video is dead for this conversation, "is one thing. Let's see you actually back it up, hotshot.” 

"By what? Hanging out with Munson?" Steve challenges back.

"Yes." Robin spits immediately. "We've all seen how you flirt. I want to see you put all those terrible flirting skills that we know don't work outside of high-school to the test!" 

"I told you Robin, I was bombing on purpose at Scoops." He warns, as he warms up to the challenge.

Hanging out with Eddie will be easy. 

Sprinkling a little light flirting on top?

A total cakewalk. 

"I don't believe you." Robin says with narrowed eyes. 

"Just watch." Steve tells her smugly.

The nice thing about it all? 

Steve barely has to wait a few hours before he can prove himself right.

Eddie trots in as if the universe had given him his cue, coming up to the counter with one of his wilder grins.

"Minion!" He crows, and Steve rolls his eyes in response. 

"Munson." He greets back, but makes sure to lean across the counter, curling his body towards Eddie. 

Predictably, Eddie gets right up in his face. 

"How goes the droll and drab life of retail?" 

"Not terrible." Steve catches Robin's eye, and has to suppress any hint of smugness. 

'Celebrate after you make the play!' Steve thinks in his coach's voice, and he settle himself in for the game. 

"Say Eds," he says, and watches the way the nickname grabs the older teens attention, "you still selling weed?" 

"Not to your freshman, I do keep my promises." A palm goes over Eddie's heart, face full of roughish charm.

Hook.

"Nah I was thinking for myself. My parents are home for the month and they're driving me up a tree."

A truth, though given they were close to their next departure their attention was off Steve and onto more important things. 

Like getting into the right hair salon, or making sure they rubbed shoulders with this or that person. 

"Think we could smoke at your place?" Steve dips even closer into Eddie's space, delights at how wide those doe eyes of his can grow. "I'm happy to pay." 

Line.

"Sure, absolutely, uh, man." Eddie says, and Steve doesn't hold back the grin as he watches him fumble. 

"Thanks." He beams, before reaching out to pretend to brush something off of Eddie's jacket. "You're a lifesaver." 

"Sure am!" Eddie outright squeaks, and over his shoulder Steve can see Robin gawk at the two of them.

"Certified life guard Eddie, that's me!" 

"Oh," Steve grins. "Certified. You'll have to show me how to do CPR sometime." 

"Yeah, Eddie says, before abruptly wrenching himself out of Steve's space, face fire engine red. "I can show you when we uh, hang out. To smoke. What uh, day do you...?" 

His voice goes higher in question, and Steve gives him his best slow 'I'm charmed' smile. 

"Tonight? After work?”

"Tonight!" Eddie says, before he starts dancing back, waving finger guns at Steve. "My place! Be there or be square!" 

"Well I'd hate to be square." Steve replies, giving a lazy wave as Eddie crashes backwards into the door, spins around with a curse and half falls, half tumbles his way out. 

Sinker.

Steve turns a victorious look on Robin.

"He didn't even rent a movie." He preens, while Robin tracks the absolute disaster that is Eddie trying to drive his van away. 

"Oh my God." She says, wide eyes meeting his too smug ones. "I'd say that was smooth but that was the farthest thing from it." 

"Hey, I was smooth. We're only judging me, not my dance partners." He counters. 

"Oh? Certified?" Robin mocks him once again, clenching her hands under his chin before dropping them in disgust. "I can't believe that worked, everyone knows you were a lifeguard for years!" 

"I'm just that charming." 

"More like Eddie's that far gone." She says with a dismissive snort. "He has it bad for you.” 

"I dunno," Steve drawls, resting his chin on the back of his hand. "You're just as bad the second you think a girls flirting with you." 

The offended gasp Robin lets out has Steve cackling immediately. 

"You take that back!" She howls, winging a wet rag at him. 

Steve jumps back, still laughing. 

"Steven Harrington you take that back!" 

"I promised not to tell lies Rob," He gasps, as she whips the towel at him again. 

He reaches out a hand, catching the towel easily. “I can’t take it back!” 

Robin shrieks, and soon enough they're both laughing and wrestling over the towel, all thoughts of the weird dance Steve, Eddie and Chrissy were doing, forgotten.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Special Interest 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, age gap, creep behaviour, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Cole Turner, short!reader

Part of the Bookstore AU

Note: this one is a bit longer than I anticipated!

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You have everything neatly tucked into a box for your delivery. You're anxious, more so to get it done and over with, than to meet the demanding buyer. Your mother finishes up and hurries you to get ready. You can’t help but take your time.

You bring another box, this one full of parcels to be sent out. After dropping those off, you’re back in the car hug the last order in your lap. Your mother pulls into the lot, just behind the garden center outside, now selling wreaths and pine trees in lieu of the season bulbs and petals.

You get out and check your phone. Your mom comes around to read over your shoulder. You keep an arm around the box as you lean it against the car. You bring up your Etsy messages.

‘Think I got here early. In the garden center checking out the garlands.’ 

“Oh, great,” your mother says, “we won’t have to waste too much time.”

“Mhmm,” you agree and bring your other arm around the box, pressing your phone to it as you follow her. 

She doesn’t wait as she walks along the wall of the garden centre and dips through the door. You catch up inside, nearly bouncing off of her as you hold the box ahead of you. She squeals and points out a shelf of ornaments made of pine cones. You humour her with a smile and hum.

“Those are cute, mom, but we’re not here to shop,” you huff as you peer around.

That woman in the patchwork jacket looks like a farmer. She has the square jaw of a real hard lady. You know she’d probably best you in any physical combat. You meet her eye, tilting her head in question, ‘are these your crochet goods? Huh? Did you make me come all the way down here?’

She frowns and quickly turns away. Alright, not her but you’ve definitely creeped her out. You glance back at your mom as she ogles the ornaments. You wonder how she manages to work from home effectively.

“Excuse me, uh, SashayCrochet? Um, I think that’s for me?” A voice draws you back to face the rows of trees and hanging wreaths. You almost fall over as you recognize the man approaching you. No flipping way. “Hey,” he points at you in a similar epiphany.

“Uh, Farmer’s Delight?” You grimace.

“That’d be me,” he smiles. He’s wearing the same tan jacket, you note the stain by the pocket, “thanks for meeting me here.”

“Uh huh,” you squint at him. What a gosh dang diddly darn coincidence this is. “Here, everything’s there. Have a good day.”

“Oh, wow,” he sputters as you push the box against his stomach, slowly placing his hands on the corners. “Do you mind if I check to make sure or–”

You hold back a sneer. You can’t believe this. You had a bad feeling all along. You somehow don’t think this is fate. You think this guy has a problem. Why would he needs a lady’s magenta cap and matching mitts?

“Honey,” your mom finally catches on to the scene behind her, “oh, is this him?”

“Um, hello,” the weirdo smiles at her, “yeah, uh, it’s me. Cole.”

He offers his hand as he shifts the box under his arm. Your mother shakes his hand and nearly vibrates in excitement. She loves finding a new mark for her unending small talk. They deserve each other.

“Cole, that’s such a cute name,” she rescinds her hand, holding it over her chest coyly, “matches you well.”

“Mom,” you growl, raising your chin defiantly at Cole the creep, “I included an invoice so you can see everything’s there. Go ahead and check, we have things to do.”

“Honey, don’t be so rude,” your mother chides, “so, Cole, you live on a farm?”

He sets the box down on the corner of a table and shuffles through the contents. You stay where you are as your mom steps closer. You wonder if she sees the silver in his beard and just thinks that’s some festive touch. He’s ancient.

“Yeah, my parents’ place. I help out. As much as I can.”

“Oh, wow, I always dreamt of living out in the country but I’m too much of a busy body. The city is where I belong,” she preens, “but my daughter, she’s loves being at home. Don’t you, honey?” She beckons to you but you don’t move. “Spends all her time making this stuff,” she motions to the box.

“It’s very nice,” he says as he admires the beret style cap, “good handiwork. Talented.”

“Yes, a good hobby,” your mom insists, “not so useful as working the field, I’m sure.”

He chuckles, “yeah, I guess, but it takes all sorts.” He lifts the box up again, “my mother is going to love all this. Her birthday’s just around the corner and I didn’t really wanna walk in with another gift store teddy bear.”

“Too sweet,” your mom chimes, “any mother would be so lucky. Honey, get over here.” She reaches back blindly and grabs your arm, forcing you up next to her, “she always makes me something pretty for the holidays but you can only really have so many socks and scarfs.”

“Mom,” you snarl again, glowering at Cole as amusement dimples in his cheek.

“Actually, uh, I was just coming from the market. I have a booth there. I sell plants, so, uh, I have some in my car. If you wanna have a look. You can have one for free… some probably won’t last that much longer,” he suggests.

“Oh, plants! I love plants. And with this weather, everything’s so grey,” your mother trills. “We’d love to have a look.”

You almost hiss at her again but you don’t want to argue, not in front of this man. He smiles and leads her out of the garden center. You trail behind reluctantly. Your mother glances over her shoulder and snaps her fingers at you. You come up behind her and lean in close.

“Mom,” you whisper, “do you really think we should follow this stranger to his car?”

“Stranger? He’s so nice.”

“You said two words to each other.”

“Don’t be so cynical,” she snaps back, lowering her voice as she talks out the side of her mouth, "he's gorgeous."

He takes her to a pale blue truck and opens the back door, he tucks the box on the floor and steps back, gesturing to the back seat. You furrow your brow at your mom. She is easy pickings.

“You can have a look. Mostly cacti,” he shrugs.

“Don’t mind if I do,” your mom steps up and peeks into the back seat.

You can see the edge of a cardboard tray as she moves around the small pots. You stay a few feet back and cross your arms. Cole edges towards you.

“I guess… we’re running into each other so I can apologise,” he says, keeping his voice notably low, “about the bookstore.”

“Huh, bookstore? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m being nice. I just wanna make it up for you. Why don’t you take a plant too?”

“I don’t have much of a green thumb. I’d rather knit my plants,” you sneer.

“You mean crochet,” he corrects you. You look at him sharply and he lifts his brows plaintively, “I’m learning, see?”

“Mom,” you put your hand up as if to say ‘talk to the hand’ and block him out, “hurry up. We gotta grab that thing for dad. Remember?”

“Great, I’m heading inside too,” Cole says, “they have some sod in stock and I need some chicken wire.”

“I like this one,” you mother shows a prickly cactus with a little red cushion on top, “and wonderful, you might know what this is,” she fishes out her phone with her free hand, “something for the sink. My husband sent me a link…”

You die a little as your mother shows him the web page. Of course she can’t just let him go. She can’t let you get out of this. She thinks this guy with his dumb blue eyes and sandy brown hair is some sort of Prince Charming.

“Maybe I’ll just wait in the car,” you say.

“Oh, honey, don’t be silly, it’s too cold for that.”

Cole looks at her phone, “oh, I know exactly where those are. One sec.”

He shuffles past her to shut his truck door. You glare at your mom but she doesn’t notice, she’s completely enamored with this tall hunk of weirdo. Whatever, you’ll have to sneak away and hide in the pet section and daydream about the puppy you never got.

[tgrailwar-zero]

Not really? Our physical body got wrecked a long time ago. We’re actually just voices given a humanoid shape by the Freyr. After we lost the Origin War we got sent into an endless repeating loop of holy grail wars and mindwiped over 6 billion times. Not to mention, I’m not even sure how much of The Interlopers was actually us and not just pre-programmed gunk considering our robotic nature back then.

Think of it like a computer where you replaced all the hardware after smashing it with a hammer, wiped the hard drive and software until it was dust and you had to buy a new one, and started it up again in an entirely different spot then last time. We got glimpse of memories in a dream, we were the ones trapped in their tomb, and we do feel responsible for their actions. So legally and morally, yeah, we’re The Interlopers.

Though we go by Patchwork Gestalt now.

DURYODHANA: "Alright then."

DURYODHANA: "Nope, he's dead. But that's part of why I called you here... alright, I'll only say this once, so listen up."

He cleared his throat, beginning to pace a bit, clearly preparing himself to be speaking for quite some time.

'I was summoned near the back end of the Origin War. Not by any official systems, but in the aftermath of where my Karna and that Arjuna had fought and ravaged the land. It was apparently one of the most grand battles of the Origin War, the two Archers putting everything they had against one another. Nobody knew who the 'victor' was. Some called it a stalemate with them destroying each other.'

'Anyways, I suppose the concept of a 'deadly clash between Pandava and Kaurava' and the dense magic in the land was a suitable catalyst. Maybe it was something else. Luck? Fate? Who knows. My Karna was already gone, but I figured I had to have been called for some purpose, so I began wandering.'

'When I found him... when I found Arjuna, he was already beginning to fade away. Whatever skill he had been surviving off of wasn't enough, he was starving himself of mana. Self-inflicted penance, if I know Arjuna at all. As soon as I arrived, he started talking. I didn't even have to ask. Frankly, I wasn't going to, but I guess he had something to say and he'd be damned if he vanished without saying it.'

'He spilled everything. How his mind had been taken by a dark curse, and the same had happened for his allies. How he had said and done unforgivable things in the name of a monster that his divine father had put his all into challenging. How his heart would never know peace, that sort of thing. Apparently, Karna had struck him with such a destructive blow that it served to temporarily shake whatever curse was on his mind and body, and he returned to reason. With that, he had tricked his Masters into using all three Command Spells on him in order to finish off Karna, and then- now that they had no formal power over him, he went into hiding. And, once he told me everything, he stated that he'd simply let himself fade away as penance. So I'd guessed right, because if there's one thing about the Pandava, they're predictable.'

'…With that lore dump dropped on me, I started to leave. Clearly he was dealing with his own stuff and it wasn't my problem. But he stopped me before I could leave his little pity cave to ask a favor.'

'He had discarded something important. That, if his Masters proved themselves worthy, could collect and assist them on their journey of redemption, if that's the path they chose to take. If they didn't, then it'd simply remain in stasis. Simple as that. He wanted me to guide them to that item. That if they ever broke free from 'his' curse and could enact justice, then it was rightfully theirs. He wanted me to lead you to it, since he wouldn't be able to.'

'I very reasonably asked, 'Why would I ever help you?' which I think is a fair question. We weren't exactly friends after all. I didn't owe him squat.'

'He responded, 'You don't have to do it for me, but you're a Heroic Spirit, and that monster is still out there. So please, I implore you, help me leave at least one legacy in this world that isn't darkened by violence. Be the hope for them that I couldn't be. Be the hero I was unworthy of being.''

'…'And if that's not enough, Karna gave his everything to protect this place for the sake of ending that monster. So if not for me, then for him.''

DURYODHANA: "Talk about a cheap shot. Though considering this is Arjuna we're talking about, 'cheap shots involving Karna' are his trademark."

'Still... At that point, I knew he was desperate. Entrusting his hopes and dreams to me? His legacy, to me? Me, his enemy? The man was so damn earnest that I didn't have much of a response to that one, so I agreed to his terms. He laid out everything, I committed it to memory, and then I left him to whatever fate he decided for himself.'

DURYODHANA: "...That's the long and short of it. I figured if I used one of Arjuna's epithets, it'd eventually lead you to me. Plus, it didn't hurt to hear a bunch of people singing my praises like that. But I still don't know if you're 'worthy', and I figured this was a good enough chance. If you can't win this tournament, then what hope do you have to beating that freak in the Moon Cell?"

MUSASHI: "Oh, Archer..."

[kitsumidori]

An assortment of Borderlands headcanons that I have saved up and I'm on when I'm going to ramble about these, but I'm doing it now. LET'S GOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Tina would sometimes crochet whenever she fidgets, these would result in cute little yarn plushies that she would give to her friends.

Despite being one of the smarter vault hunters, Maya has shown to be a little dense at times (like one time she asked Lilith if she has extra closet space for her books, Lilith only responded with the most deadpanned face ever imagined while Maya was waiting for an answer) You can blame the monks for that.

Ironically despite being called “The Firehawk” Lilith has a mild phobia of birds (huge ones specifically) She’s ok with small ones like with Bloodwing and Little Talon, though she was taken off once she’d noticed Talon grew way bigger than Bloodwing did.

Hammerlock likes to collect novelty nick-nacks (tea/coffee cups, souvenirs from gift shops, those singing animatronic fish trophy's ECT) and has also dragged Wainwright down the rabbit hole into collecting little trinkets they’ll find while on holiday (One being a paperweight that looked like a eldritch squid god that he keeps on his desk)

Gaige having ADHD is something that everyone agrees with. But I like to add that while she can spend hours reading multi chapter fanfictions on the ECHOnet, she however can’t finish an actual book and would spend hours skimming the same two pages and getting a headache from it. However give her a comic book/graphic novel (something like The Bone series) literally anything with pictures and she can easily get though those in an afternoon.

During her recovery, Angel has taken to age regression to cope with what Jack did to her. Lilith and Gaige understand and would help with her coping.

Clay is definitely the type of guy that can’t be labeled (sexuality wise). But at the same time he’s not too picky on who or what he likes and is open to whatever.

Wainwright and Alistair would host the best house parties hands down, especially during the holiday seasons.

Example: On Bloody Harvest, The Jakobs Manor would become a haunted house attraction filled with all sorts of spooks and treats and during the summer season, the two would invite the Raiders for a big cookout/pool party.

Moze has Hirsutism (excess hair growth in unexpected areas of the body) though it is hardly noticeable because

1. It's usually around her chest and stomach which she would shave off (just because she's a soldier doesn't mean she has to give up personal care and it's really itchy)

And 2. She's been taking hormone medication so it does reduce it

However she'll have some days where she would forget to do either due to mental shutdowns.

Despite Outer Krieg's violent tendencies, he is no moron. He has a very strange patchwork of knowledge, it's anyone's guess what he knows about any given topic.

Tyreen has a deep fear of dating/romance, this mainly stems from the idea that it'll end up like with her mom and dad.

Maya has a very soft spot for children. She really hates the idea that adults would use and abuse one for their own personal gain (like what happened to her)

There have been some days when Maya would use her powers to do the most stupid and mundane things, like phaselocking and feeding herself a pizza because she's too lazy to use her hands.

Unknown to herself and everyone else, Maya has the ability to sense ghostly/supernatural presence. She gets a feeling like she's being watched at times.

Contrary to popular beliefs, the Handsome Jack and Typhon DeLeon vaultlander figures are nowhere near valuable. Ironically it's the Claptrap figure that's the most valuable and most rarest.

Typhons """"""fame"""""" has been dwindling ever since it's been reveled that he's nothing more than a gross deadbeat that took other people's credit, and newer generations of vault hunters see him as a poser

Maya has Astraphobia (fear of thunderstorms). This stems from when she was a kid back at Athenas, if a storm comes by the temple, she would hide and freeze up, praying for it to end. This trauma stems further with the fact that back then she didn't have anyone to go to for comfort.

While thunderstorms are very uncommon on Pandora (at least in the part's where the Raiders reside) when they do come, Krieg is right there to comfort her throughout the storm.

(more TBA later)

[rivilu]

You know. Now that I've finished it I can say with some confidence that about 90% of the criticism this game faces that I have seen (not counting the anti-woke crybabies- those will die out in time. as they have with every installment of this series.) is sort of. Not missing the point, but missing the reasoning as to why some choices were made?

Heavy spoilers ahead for everything pretty much.

[And also I mean I'm going to speak as an inquisition hater here so in case this breeches my tiny bubble on this site you can stop reading if you enjoy any tiny aspect of that game at all. I am not kind.]

Yes. This game is not Origins or 2. This Thedas is very wishy washy about the core topics they tackled. Some things are straight up not mentioned at all when they REALLY SHOULD BE. Being an elf has you facing 0 negative interactions in TEVINTER for example. But. A lot of these choices were clearly made as a patchwork. Because of how much inquisition shat the bed. Yeah you can't easily bring back the chantry in a critical way when the last game spent 100+ hours bootlicking it against your will. There is a tiny nod to the mage- templar conflict being one sided and cruel in a side quest? But you can't elaborate and examine mages and how they're treated when the last game had a very clear bias and set them up as unreasonable/ pathetic/ willing to shell out to slavers etc. Similarly with elves how the fuck are you meant to move on from. Anything at all inq set up. Without wiping the board on a few to many places.

I'm looking at you, "the Dalish abandon mage kids above a specific count" NPC.

And the gods themselves. Solas himself. I still consider the most absolute dogshit, stupid, horrible, downright deplorable on a coding aspect writing decision in the series. One that I thought was impossible to create ANYTHING of value around before I got to this game. And. Let me tell you. For once the retconning is the glue that holds this thing together instead of being the thing tearing it apart. - Because it leads the game to feel like an au- in a decently good way. It's not recognizable as the Thedas we know - but it's close enough if you squint, and LEAGUES above the inquisition, which also felt like au fanfiction but in the "religious imperialist 100k essay on why minorities are suckers and the status quo rules actually" sense

Yes. We sort of elaborate on the nature of the blight here and the arch demons being?? Essentially lich phylacteries for these blighted gods. Which directly contradicts established information from awakening of the archdemons not being blighted by default. But I played through that and didn't blink because frankly none of this world feels anything like the one awakening takes place in. And the plot point works for the purpose it serves so really? It's fine. Or something like Bellara being able to do what Merrill spent 7 years attempting in a day or so. It works in a self contained way, but if you're trying to view this as a whole- it creates a dissonance.

An that's the thing. It's not a whole. Trying to view it as such is setting yourself up for failure. The devs said that this would be sort of a blank slate- a reset installment. But it isn't.. quite? Inq was. Inq was the one that decided to change the entire genre from dark to high fantasy, botched the transition, and watered everything down until it was an unrecognizable centrist pile of slop (at best). This is working with the horrible decisions made there- and trying to make something good out of them. It is a VALIANT effort. And I do think they mostly succeed. For what it is- it's good. I don't think it's fair to this game that's been in development hell for 10 years to blame it for not keeping things that its predecessor ruined just because they were handled better in origins or two or whatever. Trust me. Origins is still my favorite and always will be. But if you want origins, give bioware- which is currently half laid off- a break, and start barraging EA with interest for a faithful remaster/remake (i'll gladly join). Or do literally anything other than complaining about this not being that. It helps no one.

[lixenn]

Crochet corner

I'm back with my yarn babbling again, this time because I want to distract myself from thesis writing OTL

My current scarf project is still ongoing and I left it at home so I can't show any progress pictures since I'm in my dorm again (and I forgot to take some when I was still at my parents place), so I will talk about my past projects.

And when I say past, I mean past, as in I will go back to my crochet roots. You're getting my fiber artist history hot off the keyboard folks, so strap in and enjoy the ride.

Back to the beginnings

My crochet journey started way back in primary school, where tiny baby Lix made a small square creature in craft class. Basically we crocheted a square (easily done with single crochets, can be achieved by tiny people) folded it in half, sewed together the edges, stuffed it with cotton fluff stuff and sewed it shut. Put on some eyes, a nose and mouth plus fake fur as hair and hurray you made a square creature! I actually kept that thing for years, it was chilling on our radiator like a wonky guardian until it eventually got lost or thrown out (I can't remember which). I remember that the stitches were surpisingly neat for my age, which past Lix apparently couldn't replicate for years. Primary school me had talent... (unfortunately I don't have a picture of the wonky square creature or I would have showed you guys)

Deco for the win

While I did try once or twice to get back into crocheting again it never really worked out until! My mum found this website: Drops-Design. A German (?) website for knitting and crochet patterns (and lots of other stuff). She showed me some cute cupcake and coffe cup coasters and asked if I could make them. Past Lix - like current Lix - was filled with false confidence and answered with: "Yeah, sure I can try." So, my mum ordered the yarn over the website and my crochet adventures started from anew.

Fortunately for my sanity the patterns my mum asked for had video tutorials attached, otherwise I would have been utterly fucked, since I have never read a crochet pattern in my life. With the help of the video, the coasters were relatively easy to make even when I was confronted with unknown stitches and multiple colour changes. The end result didn't look nearly as nice as what the website showed but for my first few tries I was satisfied.

Once again I have no pictures available but if you want to take a look at the pattern it's here. There you can also see the finished product.

From this point onwards I started going nuts with making deco shit. All differnt kind of flowers, stars, snowflakes and bunnies. That site opened the crochet door for me and I was happy as a clam.

Granny square madness

However, times were changing once again, when my dear friend got me some yarn for Christmas.

200 g of yarn.

With colour transition.

I only ever used solid coloured yarn before and was at a loss of what to do with this gift.

And what else to do when lost in the yarn world, then look at youtube for help. Spoiler: Youtube helped tremendously as it introduced me to the glorious invention that is granny squares.

Granny squares are fun shit, they come in all kinds of different patterns and colours and you can make lots of things with them. I watched a simple tutorial on youtube and got hooked. I used my friends gift to make granny squares only to be confronted with another dilemma: What to do with those granny squares? I got max 20 squares out of these 200 g and let me tell you my dudes, that's nothing for a bigger project.

So I simply went absolutely batshit crazy, for I decided to make a patchwork granny square blanket.

Please let me remind you people that before this lapse of judgement I only worked on small projects aka things that I made in one day tops.

Once again I follow my motto: Go big or go home and ohhh boy did I go big. I went gigantic and here is proof:

That badboy is the definition of patchwork because it's made up out of FOUR different types of yarn, since I have run out of yarn SO MANY TIMES IT WAS RIDICULOUS! I needed to rebuy yarn at least five times, I was going insane. This project took me over half a year if not longer and weaving in the ends- *shudders* horrible, dreadful, hated every minute of it.

But I like the finished product, it's now chilling on my coach at my parents place, not really used all that often but still pretty.

I didn't stop with the granny squares after that clusterfuck though. Nooooooo sire~ I made a shitton of other granny square projects since I like to suffer (none of them as big as my blanket however, thank the outer gods).

Well, I certainly rambled enough for one post, I will be back with other projects in the future!

Toodles~

[violsva]

July and August Reading

So this summer was not a great time for reading or for anything else. Except crafts. Last week I did so much crochet I bruised my fingertip.

Recent: A Short History of the World According to Sheep by Sally Coulthard started good but got more irritating over time, and I ended up skimming the last few chapters.

Very much liked Patchwork: A World Tour; I still really want a general history (specifically one starting before 1700), but this was very diverse and very pretty.

I read the first of Jewelle Gomez's Gilda Stories, which was very well done, but the author's note was more evidence that debates over moral storytelling are not limited to modern tumblr.

In August I finished another Biggles book, and now the next time I feel like Boy's Own Adventures I can get on to the resolution of Von Stalhein's arc and widen my fanfiction options.

And then I deliberately picked up Circle of Magic: Sandry's Book for comfort reading, which it provided. Also more craft books and more RWRB fanfic.

Current: Just finished Agatha Christie's The Moving Finger in audiobook for more comfort reading. I remember liking but also being annoyed by a paranormal romance about how great small towns are, and it probably says something very clear about me that Horrible Things Happening in Nice Small Towns are, conversely, very comfortable.

Terry Pratchett's Interesting Times, because I wanted to reread a Discworld book and I knew I'd only read this one once ... but unfortunately there was a reason for that. Which of course is going to be true of anyone who wrote that many books over that much time.

Sarah Caudwell's The Shortest Way to Hades, which is great. One of the nice things about this series is that I can think things like, "Ah, what an interesting choice to refer to Euripides' Helen in this particular narrative. What might that imply for the main mystery plot?" (I'm less than halfway in and don't know if I'm guessing right yet.)

My current purse book is The Unexpected Mrs. Pollifax by Dorothy Gilman, which will probably go slowly but which I am enjoying very much when I remember it's there.

And a facsimile copy of William Blake's Songs of Innocence and of Experience.

Future: The library for some reason hasn't got any of K. J. Charles' recent releases.

I have another Christie audiobook lined up. In print the Caudwell will probably take me a while yet. But it's occurred to me that autumn is coming up, and this year I want to actually read The Haunting of Hill House.

[scaredofthedarkuniverse]

Looking for beta readers

Hi friends of the hellsite! I'm Jey (she/they), and I like writing.

Once upon a time, I had a patchwork story that I posted here and became my pet project. I reworked those snippets into an actual novel (a whopping 66k words, titled The Nameless). It is part of a duology (oh lord, please let it just be a duology) and part two is already underway.

It is fantasy and magic and demons and secret societies wrapped in self-indulgent and flawed narrative (synopsis under the cut). It is currently looking for beta readers *wink wink nudge nudge*

I am looking for people willing to read and answer some questions about the narrative within a month.

Message me if you're interested.

The Nameless

Knowing exactly where she fit in the world, regardless of how shitty of a position it was, was more than enough for Demeter Ward. Her life, pre-planned, pre-measured, and premeditated by her parents was stifling and unfulfilling but she wasn't what they expected of her, either. She was happy to keep her head down, finish her Physics degree, and indulge in her hobbies so she didn't go insane.

Enter Andrew Bloom–sarcastic asshole of a classmate, Physics extraordinaire, Southern gentleman, and her parents' favorite person, much to her dismay. That morning, when he crashed her lab, told her to pack her stuff and follow him, the last thing she was expecting was to be told that there was a whole other world filled with angels, demons, and magics that she was never told about. Actually, that's not true. The last thing she was expecting was her parents to be the head of the secret society that regulated all that jazz with the angels, demons, and magics and that she was meant to complete a mission to effectively save the world. And that was only the start of it.

Together with a velcro dog, a smooth-talking demon, and a whole lot of trauma, Demeter and Bloom discover that maybe Demeter's place in the world was not as simple as they once thought.

[reno-dakota]

These are mostly patchwork/quilting related, but some apply to sewing more generally

Get to grips with all the controls on your machine early on so you're comfortable adjusting them for various projects down the line. It does make a difference and will make your life easier.

Machine sewing is definitely much faster and less labour intensive - but you must consider the capacity of your machine when planning. Think about your materials and whether your machine can cope with them, lest you end up for instance, having to hand sew your intricate quilting design and it takes you days instead of a few hours.

Use fabric scraps from your project to test tension, stitch length etc on the fabric you're using before you go for it on the actual piece. For quilting test the design/style on a scrap of your quilt sandwich, especially for free motion quilting.

If you find you like a slightly "informal", warped look to a patchwork quilt you can wash after it's finished to take advantage of the warp during washing and give it a crinkly, imperfect feel. This is better for quilts which are to actually be used and will be washed regularly e.g. baby quilts where texture is as important as aesthetic and it has to be washable.

If you're at all concerned about colorfastness always wash before making and wash your binding & backing fabric too.

The machine looks/sounds dangerous but the rotary cutter, if you use one, is much easier to hurt yourself with. Measure thrice, cut once, and keep thy fingers out of the way of the blade. A metal ruler with a handle on top is an excellent tool for keeping your fingers well clear and getting nice, clean, straight cuts. Jabbing yourself with a pin is kind of inevitable.

You don't need tons of gadgets, start with the basics and see where there are gaps before you invest in things.

If in doubt, make a toile (a practice mock up using cheap/scrap fabric). Even if not in doubt, making a toile is immensely helpful for getting your head round a pattern and finding/figuring out unforeseen complications.

Make the most of the communities around the type of sewing you do - there's so much expertise to draw on whether locally or online. You can ask questions, commiserate, and if you want to, show off what you've made to people who will recognise your effort, skill and progress.

It's as creative a pursuit as writing or music or sketching and the creativity advice that gets repeated for those also applies. Make what makes you happy and excited. Whatever that is. You don't have to slog through projects that feel like a chore (unless you're into delayed gratification, you do you).

You will have a fabric stash and you will need somewhere to put it.

Things I wish I had read in "beginner" sewing tutorials/people had told me before I started getting into sewing

You have to hem *everything* eventually. Hemming isn't optional. (If you don't hem your cloth, it will start to fray. There are exceptions to this, like felt, but most cloth will.)

The type of cloth you choose for your project matters very much. Your clothing won't "fall right" if it's not the kind of stretchy/heavy/stiff as the one the tutorial assumes you will use.

Some types of cloth are very chill about fraying, some are very much not. Linen doesn't really give a fuck as long as you don't, like, throw it into the washing machine unhemmed (see below), whereas brocade yearns for entropy so, so much.

On that note: if you get new cloth: 1. hem its borders (or use a ripple stitch) 2. throw it in the washing machine on the setting that you plan to wash it going forward 3. iron it. You'll regret it, if you don't do it. If you don't hem, it'll thread. If you don't wash beforehand, the finished piece might warp in the first wash. If you don't iron it, it won't be nice and flat and all of your measuring and sewing will be off.

Sewing's first virtue is diligence, followed closely by patience. Measure three times before cutting. Check the symmetry every once in a while. If you can't concentrate anymore, stop. Yes, even if you're almost done.

The order in which you sew your garment's parts matters very much. Stick to the plan, but think ahead.

You'll probably be fine if you sew something on wrong - you can undo it with a seam ripper (get a seam ripper, they're cheap!)

You can use chalk to draw and write on the cloth.

Pick something made out of rectangles for your first project.

I recommend making something out of linen as a beginner project. It's nearly indestructible, barely threads and folds very neatly.

Collars are going to suck.

The sewing machine can't hurt you (probably). There is a guard for a reason and while the needle is very scary at first, if you do it right, your hands will be away from it at least 5 cm at any given time. Also the spoils of learning machine sewing are not to be underestimated. You will be SO fast.

I believe that's all - feel free to add unto it.

[tomyo]

Hometown Story

The expectations of this game can be summarized as C grade ds game to awkward mobile game era game to one of those games that they really mean it when it takes time to warm into.

Given my years with Harvest Moon/Story of Seasons, I was genuinely expecting a much more in depth experience but came to an admittedly mid experience. When you find out it was also released on iphone with minimal downgrade, it suddenly makes it clear why I was able to buy a sealed copy for $4 . It isn't bad, it's a different focus and while admittedly too bare bones at the start, once I found a good gamefaqs guide for event triggers I found my rhythm. You really don't have to do much in the game, walk around, pick up everything you find, maybe buy some stuff from the village but definitely come to buy from the 2pm merchant, and stop in your shop to check a bunch of people out every so often.

Things I wish I better knew starting out:

Your tables are not limited, the game has you start out by just dropping one down but you can in fact immediately put more down. My dumb ass went in game weeks with just one item for sale awkwardly waiting around for someone to want it thinking I had to desperately wait for the merchant to have more.

The day doesn't start till you open your shop so if you want to reorganize a little first, do it at 6am.

Sometimes events are triggered by putting up key items to be sold on shelves. I didn't want a rando to buy it but the won't. However, also put it into unreachable corners since you won't need to restock those shelves often. I would definitely cross check guide info on what items go to what event if you dgaf about spoilers like me because sometimes you'll get them for characters you haven't even met yet which takes up valuable space. Then there's ones like the masterpiece which might require in game months of sitting around for their event to trigger.

Fill your store with fruits and sewing kits initially as some characters require that for unlock.

ALWAYS. BUY. WOOD. I was so used to wood being such an easy resource but this game has made it hell for me to wait to get 5 pieces. It can only be bought from the merchant and while he stocked it often at the start, suddenly he never had it. I'm making so much money but I'm stuck on level two because of not having wood.

Thus far I've gone a 12 hour playthrough probably with some gratuitous pausing to read several half finished sources to know that I'm supposed to do. I'm the type of person who like to tailor a guide for my HM style games so my ADHD doesn't overwhelm me trying to keep up with all the tasks so having a lot of very barren wikis and gamefaqs is stressful to say the least. It's been more of a game of patchwork this time. Speaking of said ADHD, the point was I'd say I've made it about half way through the story. I'm at a very awkward point where I feel like I've finished some quest lines while still not having met some pivotal characters to the story. So far I think I'm missing 7 story based characters. It is pretty annoying that the cutscene activation is fickle, I'll follow everything but sometimes it just won't activate that day. I'm barely one month through and I'd even say it's possible to see that whole game in just that one month, maybe two at most but its dependent on things you can't control. Multiple items sit on my shelf waiting to introduce a character to me for weeks in game while I had two item based cutscenes for a character back to back. I mean like literally the moment I placed the next item down after having watched the first. The imbalance in that can only make me think I might end up getting stuck in a slow down after this point.

I personally would like to see the story through if I can. I've been mostly playing this while sick at this point so I've had the time to rip through it.

I think the most unexpected thing about it is how the scenes kind of actually stick with me. As a long time fan of the series, I feel like I've always had a surface level relationship with villagers in farm games. I would say older ones give relatable struggles but don't get too deep into them, maybe even the closest being A Wonderful Life but that's a series I consumed as a kid when a lot of things went over my head and admittedly a lot of my backlog is just catching up on a series that admittedly, looks to have gotten extremely fluffier as it went on. Olive Town has not been that deep. I think one of the bachelors has a somewhat deep plot but since I'm not romancing him, I'm just off with my horsegirl girlfriend having cute dates and befriending the locals when I'm not drowning in makers. And then on the other hand theres Stardew Valley which for some reason only hit me in the last year how like, all the townspeople are just as terrible as the villians.

Maybe that's a stretch but it slapped me in the face when I realized the reason why I spent so much time on my farm was because a lot of them had pretty unlikable traits. So in all the places to feel emotionally invested, I did not expect the half baked spinoff to be it. Yet something about how the mayor and his wife are actually kinda cute with each other or how the mayor's wife coyly has an unaging friend wanting to bring her puddings, or the kinda real moments where the fisherman and the girl from the sea are clearly in an intimate moment and I'm let to realize this isn't even a rival moment like it would've been in some other game. This is it, you are irrelevant to the relationships these characters have.

I think maybe there was some really good power to that. The fact that it seems intentionally most of the romancible npcs are the last characters to arrive in town (two still have not moved in for me) but that you aren't in control of the relationship and can't even date till after the main storyline I think is actually a function that would benefit it's parent series. Imagine a Bokumono where you spent the majority of the time focusing on your farm, building the relationship you have with the town, and saving the day (the town, the harvest goddess, the farm etc) and then after all that some of the friends you met turned out to be people who might like you as more than that. I get why the formula is what it is, this series started in the 90s as a simple 'work hard and raise a family' type of life sim narrative and while it's been modernized that's still at its core but when we talk about franchise shake ups, I could see this being a really good one. I think to some extent people look at the marriage candidates as a check list goal rather than characters to bond with and sometimes that dating check mark even made me not really associate with other villagers outside of benefit. I can't say I'm still not doing that to some extent but the fact the character cutscenes are the progression checks has some satisfying merit to them. I can't ignore the village anymore and it's made me appreciate the characters beyond their benefit to my part in the story. How do I put this, I like the idea of being with Reina in PoOT because I like the idea of her with me and it also feels wrong that she's the only person in the whole town who lives in a basement and I could change that. I only ever saw Rick as an absolute dick as a kid because well he was but also out of some competition to win over Karen and I could never understand why she would go for him. In games like Animal Parade, I'm debating my spouse based off of what kids they'd have moreso in the way I'd miss out on content rather than think about how those characters work with each other or why they'd like each other at all. But hell, again I see this fucking probs a mermaid and fisherman and the way he's bothered she likes being with him and its like okay wow fuck, I'm feeling things for these baby faced sprites.

So like yeah, this was low key working up to talking about the big spoilery plot twist that they kill the local boy. He's literally every generic child boy character to exist in one of these games. He's excitable and adventurous and like, I acually hate kids y'know? But fuck if they didn't masterfully try to fuck with your heart to grow attached to him. Of course they use him for a bunch of like, early level questlines. He's basically a tutorial kid but then the town starts to expand and he gets some fellow snot nosed kids in town, a girl he likes and a 'in the shadow of my manly dad' best friend and y'know conveniently he's always there in storylines. His mother has a few about her restaurant and he's there fucking up making a sign because he's a hyper and excitable 9 year old or something. His sister is interested in medicines so one of those episodes revolves around him. Pretty much everything related to his Peter being sidekick to his grizzled shonen warrior dad has him chilling in the background as well or if there's a crowd around some newcomer of course he's apart of it. I applaud how well they probably actually fucked with the few who played this who then had to deal with a dead kid. Digs up a whole bunch reading The Bridge to Terabithia as a teen.

Like I said, I'd love to make it to that point if the spread of content last well. I don't think I'll play much after this weekend of the game if I don't but I'd say in the end $4 is worth the experience I got.

At first the town looks garishly barren. I still can't fully say it looks good either. A lot of areas start to get a couple of houses in it as it goes on and it really changes a lot though I feel the Town Square needed some much more in it. The map is confusing as hell and the fixed angles are nauseating at first but I've mostly worked out a rhythm. It was hard to stick through it this far if I'm honest but I think it was worth it.

[mctreeleth]

Here it is! The instructions to make a pieced and quilted plague doctor mask!

Just as a heads up, this pattern is not really recommended for beginners. There is not a whole lot of explanation of the basic techniques, and it requires a fair bit of precision, two types of fusible interfacing, and an assumption that you can keep a consistent seam allowance and do some hand sewing and know when to sew things right sides together and such.

I am not promising anything, different methods will yield different results, I have never made a pattern exactly as it was written and neither should you. If you want something the same as the next person, go to the shops.

Actually, nevermind, this is a quarantine craft, stay home.

There are two ways to do the piecing for this project. The first is a quilting technique called English Paper Piecing, there are plenty of tutorials online, but it is done by hand and I do not have the patience for it. Still, if you have the time but not the machinery, it is probably your best option for a very good finish. Cut the pattern net out of card, glue the bits onto your fabric, sew them up, pull them out and add interfacing after. I sewed three hexies together once and got bored and gave up.

The method I actually used involves my favourite cheat for sewing: you can use an inkjet printer to print on non-woven fusible interfacing! There are ridiculously overpriced pre-cut packs available, but also you can just cut up some midweight to the right size. I just have a boring old Epson printer, and I can get away with just putting some scotch tape along the edge that feeds in for a bit of stability. Alternatively, depending on the brand, you can “fuse” it onto some non-stick baking paper, cut it to size, and then peel it off without losing too much adhesive. (My pictures look a little different because my original A4 version fits on the page differently than the shared version)

Printing onto interfacing means I know my dimensions are perfect, and I have the markings on the pieces so I know what joins to what. If you only have a laser printer, or your inkjet hates you and wont let you print on interfacing, I still recommend using fusible interfacing for structure and precision piecing. You will just need to keep a lot better track of what is what, because the pieces are all slightly different and they only go together one way.

The actual “pattern” for this project is a geometric net. I highly recommend making one in paper or cardstock first, because we all have different sized heads.  As with most quilting projects, it will generally get to be a little bit smaller again once it is all sewn together, so keep that in mind.

This is a link to the PDF on Google Drive. It is a 4 page document, for printing on US letter size. There is enough space around the pieces that it can also print onto A4 paper: the one inch square should measure 2.5cm. Similarly, the extra space means it can be scaled up a bit before any gets cut off, if you have a particularly large face.

(Edited to add: if you were going to make this in a single fabric rather than pieced together patchwork pieces, I have uploaded a simplified version of the pattern, which has more curved seams which are easier to match. The technique is otherwise the same, but note that these patterns do not have seam allowances - you will need to add them when you cut your fabric so that the pieces match.)

The body of the mask is made up of two mirrored (four total) pieced together bits, plus some circles to go around the lenses. There are two mirrored top pieces, and two mirrored bottom pieces. The top pieces are numbered 1-14, and are split over two pages and need to be joined together. The bottom pieces are lettered A-H. On one side of the pattern the numbers and letters are circled, so you know which side you are working on. There are also small dashes in the corners of the pieces; single dashes connect to single dashes, double dashes connect to double dashes. At the parts that become the edges of the eye holes, there are little dots at the end of the dashes.

Even if you are printing onto interfacing, you will also need to do a paper printout, as it will be used later as a pattern to cut the batting and the lining. The paper printout can also be used to work out your fabric placement, if you are going for a certain look (again, this one was printed as an all in one A4 sheet, but it works the same).

Cutting the Patchworked Outer

If you have managed to print onto fusible interfacing, all you need to do is cut the pieces. Otherwise, do what you need to trace the pieces onto interfacing, making notes of where they go and which sides align to what.

Once you have your interfacing pieces cut and organized, fuse them to your fabrics with at least enough room between and around them for seam allowances on each side.

I use a 1cm seam allowance, but feel free to use a quarter or half inch if that is what you are used to.

Trim all the pieces to have a consistent seam allowance.

Lay the trimmed pieces out on the paper printouts. This will let you know if there are any pieces missing, or any parts where fabric duplicates might share a seam.

Piecing the Patchworked Outer

First, piece together the nets of the bottom pieces. Put a straight pin straight through at the corners of the interfacings of two neighboring pieces, so they are perfectly aligned. Then angle the pin on the right hand side so it comes back up along where the seam will go, and angle the one on the left so that it is going across.

Sew along the edge of the interfacing, aiming for just alongside of it, not on it.

Finger press the seams open, then repeat until all the pieces are together.

The technique for the top pieces is the same, but at any join which ends at an eyehole (marked on the pattern with a black dot on the ends of the dash), backstitch at the end of the interfacing, so that it won’t pull apart at the edge. The seam allowance at this part will be cut off, so it needs to be secured before that point to prevent it from pulling apart.

Batting and Quilting

Properly press all the pieces, with the seams open.

Using the paper pattern, cut out two mirrored top and bottom pieces from fusible batting.

Iron these onto the inside of the pieced parts, so that their edges line up with the interfacings. In my experience, the best way to iron on fusible batting is from the right side, so I pin them in place and flip them over, iron a little bit so they barely stick, pull out the pins, and fuse properly.

Do some quilting. I just went 5mm to the side of every seam, because the next lot of seams need to be topstitched in the same way, and I like the consistency.

Assembly of the Patchworked Outer

Join together the gap in the top pieces. The batting was aligned to the interfacing, so the technique is the same.

Press the seams apart and topstitch the seams to either side.

Trim off the excess seam allowance around the eye holes to the edge of the batting and interfacing. this was why we needed to backstitch earlier.

The next step joins the top and bottom pieces together. The bottom piece attaches to the more curved edge of the top piece - that last seam that was joined after adding the batting will meet these side seams, angled towards the tip of the beak. Sewing the sides is the trickiest bit to do on the machine, so, while I would normally say basting is for cowards, if you want the points to match perfectly, this is a time when pinning will not really cut it. I just hand sew through each point where the seams join, go back through a couple of threads over, and tie it off. 

Then I put pins through the longer seams.

When sewing it with the machine, try to keep the lines as straight as possible, making turns only at the seams where you put a basting stitch.

Once both sides are sewn, press the seams open and topstitch to either side.

Repeat this step for the top centre seam. You can just pin baste this one if you would rather, because the angles match, but it is literally right there in the middle where everyone can see it, so if you are not confident in matching points, baste it.

Press the seams open and topstitch.

The technique is the same for the bottom centre seam, but topstitching all the way to the tip of the beak is not possible, so you will have to do the last bit of top stitching by hand.

It doesn’t matter so much if it is a bit messy, because it is not in a place where it can really be seen, but spitting the seam will help it hold its shape more nicely.

That is the pretty outside bit done.

Making and Attaching the Lining

To make the lining, use the paper pattern to cut two mirrored pieces of the top and bottom pieces, with whatever seam allowance you prefer.

The gap on the top piece will have a maximum possible seam allowance of about a quarter inch, but this is enough for a secure internal seam. The eye holes do not need a seam allowance.

Sew together the gaps in the top pieces, then sew the top seam of the top pieces and the centre seam of the bottom pieces together.

Open up both pieces and sew the sides together. You should have a lining piece that is a floppy, boring version of the outside piece.

I have not included a step for how to make a strap, because everyone has their own preferred methods, and there are plenty of alternative options. If you don’t want to worry about making strapping you can use ribbon or elastic, or put a small loop there to thread something through afterwards. Whatever the choice, pin to the centre of the back edges of pattern pieces #10, facing towards the eye holes.

Put the lining piece, facing right side in, over the pieced outer and the strap pieces and pin around the edges, lining up the four seams of the lining with the seams on the outer.

Sew around the edge.

Turn the piece right side out through one of the lining’s eye holes. You just sort of pull the pieced outer (which is currently inside) back a bit, until the tip of the beak can come through an eye hole, and then try to pull it through as gently as possible so that the raw edge of the eye hole doesn’t get too stretched and frayed.

Then push the lining back into the pieced outer body of the mask.

Pin around the edge, so that the lining is all tucked neatly inside.

Top stitch over the edge.

Eye hole time!

Pin the outer and lining together in the eye holes, and top stitch about 4mm (1/6th of an inch) from the edges. Trim any fraying bits.

Hand stitch 1 inch wide bias binding to the inner edge of the eye hole, just over the top stitch.

Flip the bias binding through the eye hole to the outer, fold the raw edge of the bias binding under itself, and hand stitch it down to the outside. Repeat for the other eye.

This next step is the worst bit, and if you have another method, go for it. Theoretically you could use something thicker that wouldn’t fray, like a felt or leather, so that you didn’t have to worry about lining the eye holes, but it depends on the look you are going for.

Cut out four circles from fabric, two of the biggest size, two of the medium size. Draw the smallest size circle in the middle of the back of the medium sized circle, and stack it on top of the centre of the big one, right sides together. From the fusible batting, cut two donut shapes of the medium size with the smallest circle cut out of the centre.

Using very small stitches, sew around the small circle drawn on the medium sized circles. Fuse the donut of batting to the back of the large circle, with the inside of the donut matching the sewn line. Cut an even smaller hole out of the middle, so that the seam allowance that remains is a slightly smaller width than the batting. Clip this into at least 12 pieces.

Press the smaller circle towards the centre, so that it can be turned in though the hole. 

This will take a lot of careful ironing and pinning. Let it sit for a bit, so that it learns to be there.

Then unpin it, but hopefully the little clipped bits will stay there. Fold the bigger circle down over them – you will need a lot of little tiny pleats – making the outer edge as round as possible.

Then press that smaller circle back down over the pleats, so that it is level with the folded outer edge. If it sticks over in any places, trim it back, but only just.

Pin this donut shape over the eye piece. The inside edge of the donut should be level with the inside of the bias binding, the raw edge up against the outer fabric.

Hand sew around the outer edge of the donut to the pieced fabric. Make sure that the raw edge from the smaller circle is under the donut, but do not let it flip out through the middle. On the machine, top stitch about a quarter inch from the outer edge.

This should catch the raw edge inside, and leave a ridge between the outer eye donut and the bias bound eye hole. From the inside, it should be possible to pop in a round lens from a pair of sunglasses, or an improvised lens such as a circle of clear plastic cut from the lid of an old takeaway container, or some transparent holographic vinyl, such as this stuff on amazon. Repeat for the other eye hole.

Hooray! You are all done!

I am really not sure on the efficacy of this as an actual viable mask. On the one hand, there are a lot of seams through which germs could pass, but on the other hand, the fact that the lining is a bit loose and baggy inside the beak might cancel that out.

Depending on your materials, it should be machine washable, although it will almost certainly look a lot less crisp.

I had a lot of issues with my lenses fogging up after a couple of minutes of me wearing it, but who knows, maybe I am just a very wet breather.

I am not going to charge anything for this pattern, nor am I going to place restrictions on what you do with the items you make. I do not control your right to profit from your work. All art is derivative, and you making your own version transforms this pattern. Don’t let assertions of intellectual property rights be another way you are alienated from your labour. If you decide to sell your work, demand fair remuneration for your time and skills. Someone offering to pay for the materials is not enough. If you have decided to take an activity you love and turn it into work, make it worthwhile.

On the flip side, please don’t try to sell this bit of writing or the PDF of the pattern net or these photographs. They are free for you and for everyone else. Resist society’s message that you should try to profit from your every action, and especially resist the notion that true success is achieved by profiting from anyone else’s labour.

If you want to discuss this stuff further, I would love that! I am researching the commodification of creative knowledge for my PhD, focusing on quilt patterns and designs. Message me @mctreeleth on tumblr and instagram or @sarasewsstuff on twitter for my uni email.

Edit: I have added in a link to a simplified version if you are going to make this with a single fabric rather than patchwork piecing. 

[pterribledinosaurdrawings]

@1kittynoir1 replied to your post:

What did it get used for? 👀

It's not done yet, but it's the facing, collar, and cuffs for the patchwork dressing gown I'm working on! It was less than half a metre of silk/rayon velvet that I dyed in college because the sample we did of that colour was so nice I wanted a bigger piece. (It was PRO MX fibre reactive dye in the colour Marine, and I don't have my dye sample book with me right now but I think it was at 4%. It shows up more green on some fibres and more blue on others, but is always gorgeous.)

I had no specific plans for it at the time, but eventually the perfect project came along, and there was just enough!

I've been working on this thing (intermittently, in short busts) for a few years now, and am finally done the patchwork and on to the construction. I've posted occasional updates on @vincentbriggs and will post photos there when I'm done.

I've also been filming the whole process, so I'll have a video about it up on my youtube channel eventually, but that'll be a while after it's finished because I have so so so many clips and it's going to take a horrifyingly large amount of editing.

It's based on this c. 1835 original, which is a good 50-100 years later than what I usually sew, but I like it and I wanted one.

If anyone's wondering how many triangles mine has, it's 6,957.

Since I've got the time consuming part out of the way I'm hoping I can get the construction done before winter officially ends.

Edit: Why does everyone think I had a bad time working on the triangles?? I loved working on them, it was so satisfying to put lots of little bits of colour together. The reason I worked on it intermittently is because I could not put it down once I got working on it, and would work on it all day for several days straight until I was very tired and sore, and then I had to put it away to stop myself, and then I'd forget about it for a few months.

Also, they're machine sewn. Most of the actual garment construction will be by hand, but the patchwork is all by machine.

[deepdarkdelights]

Run Little Red (Namjoon x Reader)

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Word Count: 7.8k

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Werewolf Namjoon, Stalking, Obsession, Forced Relationships, Blood (Lots of it), Gore, Fear, Panic/Anxiety, Discussions of discovering dead bodies, People going missing, Devious Intentions, Depictions of Guns, Mourning, Wolf Courtship Rituals

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals. 

<<Forbidden Fables Masterlist>>

Preview:  A calm life in a small village was all you ever knew, your days spent in the bakery and keeping to yourself. You liked the quiet and gentle nature of your life, but one day a wolf stands outside of your window, a stranger arrives, and people begin to go missing. Do you dare don your red coat and enter the forest?

A/N: Hello babes! My fellow authors and myself decided to change up the order of our release dates for our Forbidden Fables Collab! And, since I recently finished this little beauty, I get to release it first. yay! Now I can sit back and savor the delectable writings of my fellow authors 💜 I hope you enjoy Run Little Red it was fun to make! I can’t wait to read the comments and asks 💜

There was a wolf outside your window. 

It’s eyes gleaming in the early morning light like molten gold with silver fur that melted into the snow. 

You sat up in bed, wrapping your patchwork quilt around your shoulders as you scooted to the foot of the bed. It was staring at you, that much you were sure of. And that startled you, the almost human like appearance to its gaze was intense and unsettling. It was an animal, but it appeared to be far more intelligent than you had first anticipated. 

Maybe it was hungry, perhaps that was why it was so intent on peering through your window.

No, it certainly wasn’t, that was evident. What you had missed before was glaringly obvious now, its silver muzzle was stained in red. It had made a fresh kill before it had wandered over to your cottage mere feet from the woods. 

So, if it wasn’t hungry, why was it here?

You watched in morbid fascination as its tongue slipped out of its mouth and laved over the fresh, thick, crimson blood that decorated its muzzle. You could see the rows of sharp canines hidden within its maw for mere seconds before the wolf clenched its jaw shut and settled on its hindlegs in the drift of snow.

“My, what big teeth you have.” You whispered to yourself, your voice seemingly louder in the empty room.  

You couldn’t help but wonder what it had made it’s meal. Perhaps a deer, or a squirrel, maybe a bird, or even a small, innocent, little rabbit. 

That would have been ideal. But, you knew it was most likely one of the poor farmer’s livestock. Your village was small and self sufficient, rarely reaching out to its neighboring villages and rarely receiving visitors of its own. So, when the cattle and the goats began to disappear, only their entrails remaining, the town quickly became suspicious. 

It was either one of two things, rebellious teenagers making a hassle for everyone, or a wolf amongst you.   

If only you had known what was to come. 

You stared back warily out the window at the creature, suddenly realizing just how easily it could bust through your flimsy window if it wanted to. This wolf was probably the largest you had ever seen, it was almost the size of a pony, with long limbs that held thick muscle from the time it spent chasing down its prey. You were certain a simple snap of its jaws would kill you in an instant if it desired to do so. 

It’s gaze had not left you, petrifying you to your very spot. You felt like the two of you were playing a game, waiting to see who would be the one to make the first move. 

The call of your mother’s voice was the tie breaker. 

You rose to your feet, your bare skin brushing over the cool wood of the floor as you retreated through your door, back first. 

“Yes?” You replied, angling your neck to the hallway for a moment. 

“Hurry, sweetheart! You’re going to be late!” She called back from the kitchen. 

The bakery had been in your family for the past three generations now, starting with your grandfather, then your mother, and now you. Your mother was showing signs of her age now, her hands were unsteady and unreliable creating more of a mess than a sellable meal. So, it was your turn now. It was the only thing you could do for her, besides be married off and you weren’t quite ready for that. No one was. 

At least that was the gentle way of putting it, in reality you had made yourself quite the social pariah. You were a determined woman, one who liked to keep to herself, one who liked owning the bakery and not having to sign over the ownership to a husband. You had your mother to care for, a business to run, and a grandmother that lived deep in the woods to fret over. 

It didn’t really matter what you wanted, you did what was necessary to stay afloat. 

“Just a minute!” You called once more before slinking back into your room. 

There was a noticeable difference about the space now, the wolf was gone. The only sign he had ever been there being the large dip in the snow that his form had disrupted and a track of paw prints headed into the forest. How strange. 

You shook your head in an attempt to clear your thoughts, you didn’t want to think about what you would have to do if the creature returned. The shotgun looming over you from above the front door said enough.

You couldn’t allow a predator to get comfy around your home, that would only invite trouble into your life.

You dressed yourself quickly that morning in as many layers as you could. The walk to the bakery wasn’t a far one, but it was a frigid one. You made sure to wear your wool stockings and your leather boots, the snow looked to be thick and you didn’t fancy the idea of wet feet all day while you worked. 

You leaned over the side of your bed, scooping up your bag and throwing the keys inside of it in one motion. The extra sleep you had gotten the night before had cost you the time you needed in the morning to ready yourself. 

Once you gave yourself a quick look over and ran through your mental checklist, you rushed out of your room and into the main room of the house. Your house was more like a cottage, it was incredibly small. With only your mother’s room, your room, and the kitchen in one corner with the fireplace in the other it made for a quaint and cozy home. Albeit a cramped one. 

“Your breakfast is on the table.” Your mother said, smoothing a stray hair behind her ear with trembling hands. 

You could see her cleaning up the mess she had made that morning in an attempt to show you kindness. Normally, you were the one to wake early and prepare the both of you for the day ahead. But she had also told you many times before that she was your mother and she was supposed to take care of you as well. 

You eyed the bowl of steaming porridge that sat upon the rickety table. “I don’t think I’ll have the time to eat it.”

“Then you’ll make the time.” She huffed, wiping a wet rag over the counter in two swipes. 

“I shouldn’t have overslept.” You sighed, resting your bag on the floor as you took a seat. 

“You needed the rest, dear. You’re up every morning at the crack of dawn and you don’t come home until nightfall. You don’t need to work that much.” She chided you, smoothing her hands over your hair in a fond manner. 

“I do, for you and for Grandmother.” You reminded her. The cost of living was not cheap. 

“And what about you? You should be spending time with people your age, not working yourself to the bone.”

“I don’t need anyone but you, and Grandmother.” You smiled before sipping at your spoon quickly, hissing as you burned the tip of your tongue in your haste. 

“Youth is wasted on the young.” She chided under her breath, spurring a giggle from your throat. 

You finished your food as quickly as you could before excusing yourself from the table and heading for the door. 

“Your cloak, dear!” Your mother called as you pulled the door open, the chill of the snow seeping into your bones. 

“Yes, mother!” You chirped with an amused roll of your eyes as you curled your fingers around the crimson fabric of the cloak. Your grandmother had made it herself two winters ago, as much as you loved it and her you had to admit it was a tad ostentatious and you weren’t exactly one for attention. But it was warm and it served its purpose well. 

The door creaked shut behind you, squeaking softly as it settled back into the frame. The snow had fallen much higher than you had previously anticipated. You tightened the ties of your cloak and delicately flipped the large hood over your head before gripping your layers of skirts and hiking them up as you began your journey. 

It was rather slippery that day, you couldn’t restrain the slight squeals that fell from your parted lips each time the heel of your boot found a patch of ice and sent you sliding. You were certain you should have caught the attention of a few passerbys, but to your surprise a large group of them had become preoccupied. 

There were about fourteen of them, all in one great circle fervently discussing something. They seemed to be worried, panicked even. It had caught your attention now that the group was made up mostly of men excluding the butcher’s wife and daughter. Both’s cheeks were stained red, their eyes brimming with unshed tears as they held onto each other tight in the crisp air. 

Your face tensed in confusion as you approached the bakery, the group not too far away from you. 

“Oh, poor Sarah.” A tender voice cooed worriedly from next door. It was the tailor, she and her apprentice were stood outside, thick shawls wrapped around the both of them. 

You occupied yourself by rifling through your leather satchel, pretending to look for the shop keys you held in that very hand. You knew that eavesdropping wasn’t very polite, but you also were the curious sort, and that curiosity demanded to be satiated. 

“Don’t worry, miss. I’m sure they’ll find him soon, you know how the young ones are.” The apprentice said, her hand resting on the tailor’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort. 

“It’s not like William though, he’s a sweet boy. It doesn’t make any sense for him to go up and missing at the crack of dawn.” She replied, her dark eyes narrowing in suspicion. “I just find it funny is all, that a stranger shows up here the same day that Sarah’s boy disappears.”

“Coincidence isn’t evidence.” The apprentice hummed, pulling her shawl tighter around herself  as she began to back up against the shop door, aggravated by the chilly air. “I’m sure he’ll turn up, with a search party that size he’ll be back home in no time.”

With that, you finally retrieved your “missing” keys and unlocked the door, sliding into the safety of the bakery. You knew William as well, he really was a sweet kid...to most. Your heart did go out to Sarah though, you didn’t know the pain of a missing child but you could empathize. The sight of her broken face remained burned into your mind as you readied the shop, lighting the hearth and preparing your materials to start your first batch of bread for the day. Your late start was going to nip you in the behind, most of the women arrived by noon to get their first pick of goods and the two hours it would take to make your batches was going to loom over your head the entire time. 

You were mid kneading your dough when the familiar tinkle of the bell above the shop door demanded your attention. You paused for a moment, your aching arms thanking you for the short reprieve. Almost immediately your breath was caught in your throat. You had been expecting one of the regular mothers wandering their way in, or perhaps even one of their children running errands. Not this man that stood before you. 

This was most obviously the stranger the tailor had been referring to moments earlier, there was no mistake. Your village was small, everyone knew everyone and this stranger looked nothing like any of the people in your town. 

He was so much taller than anybody else, broader too. But most astonishing was his pure silver hair and the deep honey shade of his eyes. You had never seen anyone as young as him with hair that light, it surely wasn’t grey, the shade far too bright to be mistaken with something that dull. He was damn near ethereal and unfairly attractive. His looks had almost distracted you from his attire but now that you were paying attention, he was severely underdressed for the weather. He had to be freezing cold. 

“Hello, can I help you?” You asked softly, patting your hands against your apron to remove the excess flour from your skin. 

He had a rather confident stance, like he was the owner of the shop instead of you, you who was slightly cowering and thrumming with anxiety. 

He sent you a wide grin, his teeth were pearly white and for some unknown reason that sent your heart crashing into your stomach. You could have sworn they even looked slightly pointy at the ends, not unlike those of the creature you had seen outside your window that morning. You had almost been distracted by the sweet dimples that rested in his cheeks. What duality he had. 

He tilted his head back slightly, peering down at you from above, “Hm, I’m looking for something sweet.” He hummed. 

“Sweet?” You mumbled to yourself, resting your hand on your hip in thought.

“Oh! I made some sweet rolls yesterday, how about that?” You said with a snap of your fingers, retreating further into the shop without a response from him. 

Now in work mode you busied yourself with preparing the stranger’s order. You couldn’t help but wonder why he had arrived, what his reason for being there was. Barely anybody passed through your village, and they certainly didn’t stay as long as he had. 

Once you had retrieved the tray of rolls you set them on the counter before grabbing a pot of freshly warmed icing and gently drizzling it over top. Once each roll had been thoroughly coated, you set the pot aside and headed to the cupboard to retrieve a bag for them.  

“Perfect.” You sighed in irritation, craning your neck back to see the top of the shelf. 

Normally, you had endless amounts of bags and never needed the ones stored on the top shelf. But this winter had been far more difficult than past ones and your stock had not been refilled in quite a while. 

Desperately not wanting to search for your wooden stool, you stubbornly resorted to balancing on the tips of your toes, your fingers just barely brushing against the material of the bags. You groaned in frustration, bouncing up slightly only to knock the bags back further on the shelf and worsen the ache in your shoulder. 

Just as you were about to give up and resort to looking for your rickety stool, you felt a hand settle on your waist and a chest press against your back as the stranger reached up and grabbed the bags for you. He was incredibly warm, so warm you thought he may even be sick. He felt as warm as the heat emanating from a fire of fresh coals and that was incredibly alarming, but also explained his state of dress.

You flinched in surprise as you felt him set the bags aside and settle his other hand on your shoulder. It was deathly quiet, the only sounds being his slow, steady breaths underlying your panicked ones accompanied by the calm rise and fall of his chest against your back. You had never been this close to anyone before, it was incredibly uncomfortable. 

You felt much like a rabbit, cornered, panicking, and believing that if you stayed still enough he wouldn’t see you and would go away. 

He gently rested his forehead against your hair, nuzzling from side to side before reaching up and playing with a stray strand. You could feel him taking a deeper breath this time, humming softly like he was pleased. 

“Sweet.” He mumbled to himself. 

Oh. Oh, no. Who did this man think he was? You were not on the menu. You shuddered in fear before jerking away, smacking his hands off of you. 

You turned on your heel, backing away from him as you fixed him with an annoyed glare. The look he gave you was one of clear confusion, a layer of hurt and frustration buried beneath. 

“I’m not sure how things work where you come from, but normally you ask for permission before you go touching someone you don’t know.” You huffed, slamming the empty bag on the counter as you began to package the rolls. 

It didn’t matter if he was attractive or not, you were not going to let him touch you as he pleased or get the wrong message that you weren’t even conveying in the first place. 

The stranger rounded the counter, the block of wood effectively separating the two of you, making you feel a little safer. His eyes looked darker than before, less like honey and more like amber. 

His confident demeanor had returned, effectively confusing you even more. 

“Forgive me,” He said, another smile gracing his lips as he rested his forearms on the countertop, “It seems we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot? My name is Namjoon, and yours?” 

So, he did have the capability to be somewhat of a gentleman. He was rather well spoken, and his strange mannerisms and quiet demeanor had all but disappeared in a flash. 

So, begrudgingly, you replied with your name. 

He repeated it after you, his tongue swiping over the full flesh of his lower lip like he was tasting it, sending a chill down your spine. 

“I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, you were correct in assuming where I come from we do greetings a little differently.” He said with a soft chuckle, his amber eyes tracing every movement you made. 

You did feel a little bad now for how you had lashed out at him. Normally, you weren’t one who was quick to anger, but that still didn’t excuse what he had done. 

“It’s alright,” You said, slowly, “You need to be more careful though, if that had been anyone else I don’t think you would have gone unscathed.” 

“Are most of your people so quick to violence?” He asked, titling his head slowly, a strong sense of intrigue exuding from his form. 

“I wouldn’t say so normally, but we’re all a little on edge as of late. Our livestock has been attacked and just this morning one of us went missing.”

“Missing?” He asked, a new glow to eyes. 

“Yes, I’m afraid so. The butcher’s son hasn’t been seen all day, it’s very unlike him.” You said, your teeth sinking into your lower lip, unsure if you should tell him more. But, considering it concerned him you felt maybe it was in his best interest to tell him. 

“If I were you, I wouldn’t stick around for too long. Some find it suspicious you turned up the same day that William went missing.” 

“And what if I don’t feel like leaving just yet?” He asked, disregarding the information you had just given him as if he had no reason to be worried. 

You had no answer for him, truly you didn’t. The packaged rolls sat between the two of you and a long stretch of silence as he stared at you and waited for a response that didn’t come. And, without another word, he dropped a few too many coins on the counter, gathered up the bag, and headed for the front door. 

He stopped for only a moment, his fingers gently stroking at your red cloak you had hung up beside the door. His amber gaze trailed over each stitch as he lightly grazed the material a few more times. 

“I’ll be seeing you soon, little red.” 

~~~~~~~

After he had left, your day had not gotten any easier. Just as you had expected, it had been another busy day. You had managed to satisfy all of your customers, despite that late start you had made. 

There were a few upsides to the job you had, one being that it allowed you to tune into any gossip you would normally miss out on. You were more of a hit with the older women of the village, the people your age finding you to be a tad strange and off putting. 

That day your shop had been filled with hushed whispers of what had come to pass, the search party still had not returned from their trip to recover William. The outlook was not in the boy’s favor, not with the increase in predator activity you had been receiving as of late. You weren’t so sure you would be seeing William walking back into town any time soon. 

Once the day had come to an end, the sun dipping just below the tree line and casting shades of red over the snow, you had extinguished the lights of your shop and were locking up, your hood drawn over your head. That was when you found out the horrible truth. 

As you slid the shop keys into your bag and turned on your heel, you saw the search party emerging from the woods. And with them, you could see a blanketed form lying in the snow, the sheet swaddling the body slowing turning red. 

You swallowed harshly, turning as quickly as you could and beginning to make your way through the snow and away from what you knew was coming. You didn’t want to see the look on Sarah’s face, you didn’t want to watch her go boneless in the arms of her husband. But it didn’t matter what you saw or didn’t see, you would never forget the sound of her screams piercing the crisp, snowy air.

Your breath was visible in hot puffs in front of your face as you felt the burn of tears beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes. It didn’t matter if you didn’t care for William, it didn’t matter if you knew what he was really like, there was nothing quite like the sound of a mother’s heartbreak. It was enough to send anybody down to their knees. 

Your numb fingers wiped away the warm tears rushing down your cheeks, and amidst your blurry vision you could have sworn you saw a familiar figure slinking off into the woods, a flash of silver hair that just barely materialized. You could have sworn that that was Namjoon disappearing like a ghost into the frigid depths of the forest. 

You shook your head, you shouldn’t bother yourself with what he was doing, your main goal should be getting home before the sun completely dips below the horizon and plunges you into darkness. So, with that thought, you rushed home. 

Once you entered the cottage, things didn’t get any better. Your mother was stood there, waiting anxiously for your arrival. As soon as you had stepped foot inside she whipped the door shut and helped you remove your cloak as you toed your boots off. 

“No more working late, do you hear me?” She said, gripping your shoulders to get you to look at her. “It’s not safe out there.”

“Word travels fast then?” You asked humorlessly. 

“It’s a shame what happened to that boy, and I’ll be damned if that happens to you.” She replied sternly. 

“And what about Grandmother then? What do we do about her? She’s out there, all alone, with no one to protect her.”

“She has the lumberjack-”

“And he only checks on her every two weeks.” You interrupted, “Let me go out tomorrow and bring her back to us. I’ll go first thing in the morning.”

Your mother bit her lip, her hands shakily settling on her hips as she thought to herself. “I’ll go with you then.”

“No, you can’t possibly think you’ll be able to make the trip. The snow is thick and it’s a long walk there, you’ll exhaust yourself. It’ll be better if I go, faster too.” You said as you approached the fireplace, raising your hands to the flames to warm them. 

“And your grandmother, you think she’ll be able to make it back through the snow?” She probed, raising her eyebrow. 

She had a point, if you were saying she wouldn’t be able to make it there how would you expect your grandmother to make it back with you? 

You rested your hand on the back of your neck, pacing the floor and causing your layers of skirts to swirl around your ankles. You came to a sudden stop, your eyes settling on the shotgun that was mounted above your front door. Idea.

You didn’t like the thought of her being out there all alone, but if you knew she had something to protect her from the wild animals that would make you feel much better. 

“Alright, what if I bring her some supplies instead? I’ll grab some things that’ll last her a good while and I’ll show her how to use the shotgun. I’ve saved up some money of my own, I could purchase us a new one.” You mused out loud.

You loved your grandmother, she was the last living member of your father’s side of the family, she was the only connection you had to him at this point. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing her just yet, not when you could prevent it from those creatures that were beginning to terrorize your people. 

Your mother was silent once more, her thumb settled between her lips as she nervously chewed at the nail. She didn’t like the idea of you headed out into the woods alone, but she was comforted by the thought of you taking the shotgun with you, that much you were certain of. 

“We don’t know when the next storm will hit, and the last thing we need is for her to be stuck out there, all alone, with no food, surrounded by the wild. Let me go.”

And that was enough to break her resilience. 

“Promise me, promise me that you’ll come back.” She whispered, her body visibly sagging as those words left her lips. 

“It goes without saying.” You murmured, wrapping her up in your embrace. 

It was easier this way, you didn’t want to make a promise you had no certainty in keeping. 

The air in the cottage had lost all tension, everything was much calmer than before. But your peace could only last for so long. It was when you entered your bedroom that you realized something else was wrong.

The room was positively frigid, and upon further inspection you realized that your window had been pried open, the cold winter air surging forth and snuffing out any traces of heat. 

You surged forward and grasped the window, attempting to swing it shut as quickly as you could to try and insulate whatever warmth was left. But the thick scent of copper quickly stalled your movements. Instead of closing the window, you found yourself leaning forward into the brisk air, sniffing intently as you tried to make out where the scent was emanating from. You didn’t have to look far.

Your hands sealed themselves over your mouth, smothering the scream that threatened to break through them. 

Sitting in the snow where the wolf had once laid, was a human heart. The snow seemed to sizzle around it, the organ still warm and slick with blood that carved rivers and valleys into the pure ice. 

You could feel bile rising up your throat, your vision shaking so violently it made it appear that the heart was vibrating with steady pumps like it was still alive. 

And, to your horror, you could make out a form a few feet back in the snow. The only thing that was visible in the pitch black were it’s molten gold eyes, shining back at you in recognition before it scuttled away into the darkness.

You frantically slammed the window shut and drew the curtains closed tight. 

There was no mistake now, someone or something had been following you. 

~~~~~~~

When you awoke the next morning from a restless sleep, you elected to keep your discovery to yourself.

Although you were incredibly frightened by what you had seen, the last thing you needed was to scare your already frail mother. Your grandmother was still in need of assistance, and you couldn’t allow your mother to halt your plans. You had a mission to accomplish, and you were set on completing it with a shotgun slung over your arm and a picnic basket on the other. 

So, you shakily grasped your red cloak and wrapped it around your shoulders in haste, your fingers struggling to do up the ties at the base of your throat. Once you had completed the normally easy task, you slipped your basket onto the inside of your elbow and pulled down the shotgun from its resting place above the door. 

You regularly cleaned it, a task your father had enjoyed teaching you at a young age, so you were certain it wouldn’t jam if you needed to use it in a hurry. You slid a box of ammunition into your pocket, one for you, and another box into the picnic basket, one for your grandmother. 

And then you were off, bidding your mother goodbye with a hug and a swift kiss to her cheek, and an unspoken promise tittering on the edges of your lips saying that you would be home for supper. But those words were better left unspoken. 

The sun was just barely peeking through the thick clouds overhead, you were certain a blizzard was brewing. This only urged you to move quicker through the cleared paths. 

But the clouds weren’t the only foreboding message that morning, it was the mother’s wailing in the town square. There were three more now, holding each other in a comforting manner as they wept into each other’s shoulders. 

More children had been snatched from their mothers.

Sarah sat by herself, of her own volition, an obsidian mourning veil obscuring her tear stained features. A chill ran down your back as you urged yourself to walk by them quicker, she looked more like an executioner than she did a mourner, surrounded by a choir of weeping women. 

You could still hear the echoes of her cries in the back of your mind, the raw chords striking your ears once more. 

You tightened your grip on the strap of your shotgun, your pace slowing as you reached the bridge that led you into the forest. You felt like you could breathe now, despite the knowledge that people your own age had lost their lives in the thick overgrowth before you. The relief that you felt from the women in the square outweighed your fear.

The bridge creaked in protest as your boots tapped against the wood. It would need to be repaired come spring. 

“Little red!” A voice called from the treeline causing you to suddenly stop, snow kicking up beneath your boots. 

Moments later, a familiar figure emerged from the frost coated trees, tall, ash hair, and honey eyes. Namjoon. 

“Where are you off to, little red?” He cooed, his voice low with a sultry edge that sent shivers down your spine. You couldn’t tell if they were delighted or terrified chills. 

“My grandmother’s, what are you doing here?” You asked, your body tense and defensive. 

He drew nearer now, a wide grin gracing his lips with a set of teeth so white they resembled the snow beneath your boots. The closer he got the more you noticed about him. His perfect white teeth seemed a little sharper than most, and the clothes he wore were once more, not suited for the frigid weather. 

“I caught sight of this old thing,” He hummed, his finger tracing over your cloak and the strap of your shotgun as he slowly circled you, “And couldn’t help but see you.”

You stepped back hesitantly, his presence was unnerving. Without saying anything more you pulled away from his reach and began to walk by him briskly, headed into the woods. 

“Leaving so soon? We only just met.” He laughed, it would have been a nice contagious laughter had you not heard the bitter edge to it. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have the time to dawdle, Namjoon. I need to reach her before the storm hits.”

“Well then, won’t you let me accompany you?”

“I don’t need an escort, I know my way just fine, thank you very much.” 

“And what about the beasts then?” He asked from beside you, sending you halting to a stop. 

“Beasts?” You asked slowly, gazing up at him from beneath the cover of your hood. 

“Well, surely you know?” He asked in a patronizing tone, his honey eyes narrowing. “Four people from your village have gone missing, red. Surely you know that wasn’t an accident. Great beasts have roamed this forest for centuries and they don’t take kindly to intruders. It would be much safer if I came with you.”

You stood there for a moment in silence, contemplating his words. He was not wrong, two people were much safer than just one. 

So, begrudgingly, you accepted his offer. 

His hand quickly captured your own, his fingers intertwining with yours as he pressed his side tightly to your own with a grin. How bold. You were struck once more by the fact that he was incredibly warm, it was no wonder why he wasn’t bundled up like you were. It felt like he had struck a fever. 

Namjoon filled the silence between the two of you surprisingly well, telling you stories of the great beasts that roamed the woods, effectively scaring you and holding your attention. He had a way of speaking that drew people in, like a siren from the stories your father had read to you. 

It was easy to forget with him, easy to forget why you had been frightened in the first place, easy to sink into his side as his warmth seeped into your flesh, and easy to get lost in his voice. 

That was of course, until you felt him pulling you off of the path. 

You dug your heels into the snow, tugging at his hand violently. “Namjoon!”

“Yes?” He asked.

“What are you doing? Her cottage is this way, we stay on the path, we never leave the path.” You said, gesturing towards the dirt pathway beneath the two of you. 

That was a spoken rule in your village, never go off of the path. 

“That’s ridiculous,” He chuckled, “If we continue the way you were going, that doubles the time it takes to get there, it’s better we take the shortcut.”

“No.” You sternly said. 

“And why not?”

“Because, there’s predators out there! Mountain lions, bears, wolves!”

A mischievous smirk pulled at the corners of his lips, “Are you scared of wolves, little red?”

“I’m scared of anything that wants to eat me.” You replied with a dry tone. 

“Well you do smell very sweet-”

“Namjoon!”

He took a deep breath, his eyes darting between you and the shortcut. “I promise you, nothing will hurt you while I’m here. Besides, did you know some flowers bloom in the winter?”

“What? You can’t be serious.”

“I am, there’s a field of flowers this way, all different breeds that bloom in the dead of winter. Don’t you think your grandmother would enjoy those?” 

You chewed at your lip uneasily. He knew exactly what to say to make you question your own actions. You would be lying if you said you didn’t want to see what he was talking about, and you knew that yes, your grandmother would be elated by something so cheery in the bleak winter months. 

So, after a few moments of consideration, you agreed.

And Namjoon had not been lying. After a few minutes of trekking through the deep snow the two of you emerged into a clearing, and just like he said, it was filled with flowers of all different breeds. 

You found yourself crouching down into the field, your fingers trailing over each velvety petal that had somehow found a way to survive in the clutches of an icy death. Your favorites were the deep red roses. They were a dead match for your cloak, a beautiful color that was delicately dusted with soft flakes of snow. 

You couldn’t help but greedily pluck several blossoms from the foliage, slipping them into your basket. 

And, amidst your excitement, you hadn’t noticed just how close your companion had gotten until you felt him. That incredible warmth had returned as he crouched down behind you, and just like he had in the bakery, you felt him lightly nuzzling your head and breathing in your scent as he pressed himself closer to you, his arms winding around your body in an attempt to pull you even tighter to him. 

You froze, your finger mid pull on the rose’s stem causing you to slice the appendage on a stray thorn. You hissed in pain as you watched the blood drip from the tip of your finger before rolling down your wrist and carving a pool into the snow beneath you. 

And, without a thought, Namjoon’s hand encircled your wrist and yanked it up to his face. 

His once honey eyes appeared brighter than before, his long lashes fluttering as his warm breath misted over your skin. And before you could stop him, he licked a line up your wrist, collecting the blood, and pressed your finger to his lips swiping his tongue over the wound. 

You yelped in surprise, wrenching your hand free from his grip as your heart pounded violently. You rose to your feet and stumbled backwards through the snow. 

Namjoon remained where he was crouched, a sudden hunger evident in his honey gaze, a gaze that was not so unfamiliar. 

“We-we need to go!” You stuttered, turning on your heel and retreating from whatever had just happened. 

You held your hand close to your chest as you walked, frightened by what had just transpired. A part of you suddenly wished you had made your journey alone as you had previously intended.

But the harsh crunch of snow behind you reminded you of the choice you made, and the molten glare digging into your back exemplified it. 

~~~~~~~

The rest of your journey was made in complete silence, a new tension had settled between the two of you. And, true to Namjoon’s word, the way he had taken you was indeed a shortcut. So, you felt no remorse as you sprinted toward the cottage ahead of you and threw a weak thank you over your shoulder. 

You couldn’t stand the awkward tension anymore, you couldn’t stand being in his presence any longer than you needed to. 

As soon as you approached the front door, you threw it open and let it shut behind you. You leaned against the door for a moment to catch your breath before you shrugged the shotgun off of your shoulder and strung it up on the hook beside the front door. 

“Grandmother!” You called as you began to approach the kitchen door, “I’m here!”

And upon opening it, a blood curdling scream broke free from your lips. 

The sight before you could only be described as a massacre. Your hands desperately tried to cover your eyes, but the damage had already been done. There was blood, so much blood amongst other things laid out atop the counter. 

You fell backwards, your body sliding down the wall as hoarse screams raked through your throat. The unmistakable scent of blood was thick in the kitchen sending your stomach churning in your gut. You knew that scent, it was clear as day whatever had remained in that room had once been human. 

“Sweetheart?” A familiar voice called out to you. 

And upon opening your eyes, you saw your grandmother standing before you. The sudden feeling of elation surging through your body at the sight of her alive quickly died out. She wore a leather apron stained with blood, both fresh and old, and her hands were gloved. You quickly stood and began to back away from her, your sense of self preservation suddenly kicking in, your eyes zeroing in on the meat cleaver she held in her left hand. 

“Sweetheart, calm down.” She whispered softly, carefully setting the blade down on the counter beside the gorey mess. 

Your eyes were darting everywhere but her, panicked breaths leaving your parted lips. Your gaze finally settled in the corner of the room where a pile of clothing sat and a familiar axe. The lumberjack, she had murdered the lumberjack. 

“Why?” You cried, trembling as if you had been drenched to the bone. “Why did you do it?!” 

“I had too sweetie, I have to feed them.”

“Them? Who?” You asked, backing out of the kitchen as she followed your trail, her face soft with sympathy despite the flecks of blood that decorated her cheeks. 

“The wolves, of course. I made a deal with them long ago, if I fed them in the winter I could stay here.” She replied, her voice alarmingly calm. “The lumberjack was a sweet man but this winter was a rough one, not many travelers I’m afraid.”

“You’ve gone mad.” You whispered. 

“I know this is a lot to take in, but it’s best if you listen to me darling. Your grandfather was one of them, he courted me and then we had your father and your uncles. It’s always tricky with litters, you never know who is going to take after who. Your father though, he was the most human out of all of them. Poor thing couldn’t even shift.” She sighed, her eyes glazing over.

“You need help, you’re not well.” You tried again, doing your best to keep distance between the two of you.

“I know you’re a bit shaken up, but you need to listen to me, it’s in your best interest.” She sighed, untying the leather apron from around her waist. 

“That cloak you’re wearing, it’s a symbol that you’ve come of age and Namjoon has had every intention of courting you. He’s been rather obvious really, he’s becoming quite frustrated with you.” 

You suddenly became still, your mind flashing through every time Namjoon had ever touched the very item you were wearing. What she was saying, although deluded, had some semblance of truth. 

“I-I have to go.” You mumbled, your throat tightening from the copper scent and smell of flesh that hung heavily in the air. You needed to get home and far away from her before she killed you too. 

A deep sadness spread over her features as her head hung low, shaking from side to side. “Don’t run,” She breathed, “They find the chase seductive.”

All this time you had been slowly backing away from the person you loved the most, and now you had been stopped by the feeling of a solid form behind you. You quickly spun around, a shriek of horror escaping you as you met the bright, gold eyes of your escort, Namjoon. 

And, without thinking, you ran. 

Your cloak was fluttering behind you rapidly in the harsh, cold winds, the snow coming down thicker than it ever had before. And, to your absolute horror, a loud howl was echoing throughout the trees. 

You peered over your shoulder as you sprinted to the best of your ability through the snow drifts. The wolf that had sat outside your window days before had returned and was chasing you down. Now that there was nothing separating you from the creature you were terrified, it was massive and hunting you down. It had the clear advantage, you were inevitably going to die. You were never going home again, another child was going to be ripped from their mother. 

Tears were pouring down your cheeks like waterfalls as you blindly ran, unsure as to where you were going. You knew that you didn’t have time, four legs were faster than two and you were greatly impaired by the weather. 

With no goal in mind, no destination in sight, you ran in hopes you would be able to live for a little longer. You did your best to weave between the trees, slide down hills of snow, and keep running for your life. Your lungs burned and your legs ached but still you ran, even as you heard the loud steps of the wolf coming nearer and nearer.

And, just as you had lost all hope, an outcropping of rocks became visible at the base of a snowy hill. And with every intention to save your life, you recklessly threw yourself down the hill allowing gravity to take over for you. 

The second you felt yourself cease rolling, you rose to your unsteady legs and dizzily stumbled into the cluster of rocks, pulling yourself into the shelter away from the blizzard.

But your hope was fleeting as you came to a realization. The shelter was a den, one that had clearly been in use. It was littered with furs, blankets, books, and materials for a fire. The creature had been corralling you to this very location. 

You turned as another burst of adrenaline shot through your body only to be stunted by the sight of the silver wolf blocking the exit to the den. 

It’s bright eyes stared back at you with a gleam of satisfaction as it crouched down, shimming it’s way into the den and backing you up further into its depths. 

You watched, horrified, as the wolf began to whimper, it’s body shaking violently as the sound of bones beginning to snap and crunch echoed throughout the space, reforming and distorting themselves into vaguely familiar shapes as it’s fur began to melt away. 

Those bright golden eyes faded to a recognizable honey shade, and the silver fur disappeared and showed itself as ashen hair. On the floor of the den sat Namjoon in the place of where the powerful wolf had once stood. 

He carefully rolled his head from side to side, his neck cracking loudly in response as he rose to his feet. A mischievous smirk pulled at his lips, a triumphant gleam to his eyes as he confidently approached your trembling form. 

A broken cry escaped from your throat as you felt him press his forehead to your own, lightly nuzzling his head against yours. His strange behavior now made sense, he had been courting you in a way that was unfamiliar to you, but natural to him. 

All of the people that had gone missing were male’s your age, he had been wiping out the competition. 

And the bloody organ he had left outside of your window, had been a horrific present. A show of his dominance and his twisted affection. 

You were crying uncontrollably now, everything you had experienced suddenly crashing down on you. You flinched in terror as you felt his fingers grip your jaw, his lips just brushing against your own and he hummed happily.

“You have nowhere left to run, little red.”