#sometimes i border on being like ''wow no wait actually hold on. youre near and dear family to me but you are h u g e you are fucking

[abyssalpriest]

"Great Death" are you for real. Ive been fucking calling him "Lord Death" since before I even knew he was a real person let alone a spirit this damn life

"In some texts, Mahākāla is described as a fearsome god, a "demon who steals the vital essence (of people)" and who feeds on flesh and blood, though he is also said to only devour those who committed sins against the Three Jewels of Buddhism."

"In China, the god was also associated with fertility and sexuality"

bruh why the fuck do i doubt lev is who he says he is

Like i fucking clicked on the "大黒天" name(s) (chinese and japanese) because i was like "fucking sky character spotted!!!!!!" and now im just like. bruh

[nikanndros]

I just want you to know that I think about From Eden at least once a week and I've lost count of how many times I've reread it. If you ever wanna share what comes next amd what other ideas you had for that universe i'm here to listen op 👀

Thank you, I love you! When I first wrote that fic, I had two other parts (at least) that I wanted to go with it, and since they’re partially written I’m happy to share those bits with you:

From Eden Part 2

“It’s just unfair, you know,” the girl said. Her words were slightly slurred. To be fair, they were in a nightclub after midnight. Everyone was slurring. “I was there for him, and I paid his bills while he went through college and now! He has a real job and he dumped me for his secretary.” She started sobbing.

Damen, who was six foot three, strongly built, and also carrying a loaded weapon, took her hands and made a sympathetic noise. “Lykaios,” he said, because he --unlike Laurent-- had actually listened when she’d introduced herself. “I think the best thing for you now is to forget about him. He didn’t deserve you.”

Lykaios sniffled. “You think so?”

“Of course I do,” Damen said. “I’ve only known you for a few minutes and I already can see that you’re incredible. Right, babe?”

“Right,” Laurent deadpanned. He glanced at his watch. “It’s quarter to.”

Damen nodded. Still holding Lykaios’ hands, he turned to Laurent. “Security?”

“Just the two.”

“Great.” He looked back to Lykaois. “Listen, doll, we’ve got to get down to business, but I want you to remember what I said, okay? You’re worth a lot more than that guy gave you.  And your mascara is running a little. Maybe you should go fix it up in the bathroom and wipe your tears?”

“Okay,” Lykaois sniffed. “Thank you.” She left.

Damen gave Laurent a grin, the crooked, teeth-baring one that appeared whenever they were about to do a job. “Ready?”

“You never call me doll.”

“Do you want me to?”

“Try it sometime and see.”

Damen yanked him in by the jacket and kissed him, slowly and bordering on indecent. “Alright,” he said, after he pulled back. “Show time.”

As Damen disappeared into the crowd, Laurent grasped his --still full-- drink, turned, and threw its contents at the roughest looking guy in the place.

“Hey, what the hell?” The guy squared his shoulders; he was intimidating even covered in lemonade.

“Fuck you,” Laurent replied. 

At this point, three months of travelling and stealing and, most importantly, Damen, Laurent had become pretty efficient at inciting fights. He didn’t need to see the punch coming to know that it was, he just sidestepped and let the man stumble into the back of another patron. It took less than thirty seconds before half the clientele were involved in an all out brawl.

The two security guards rushed in, and were immediately overwhelmed enough that the only bartender -- a youngish lad with a crooked nose -- had to join in to get everything under control. Laurent punched him.

Eventually, the fight got calmed down enough for fingers to point to Laurent and the lemonade clad man as the inciters, and guards hauled them both out into the parking lot.

“Let me go!” Lemonade guy yelled. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

“You can try,” Laurent said, a lot more willing to be subdued by the guard that had him by the arms.

“Don’t make us call the police, man,” his guard complained. “The both of you can go your separate ways, come on.”

The door behind them opened. 

“Sweetheart,” Damen said, chidingly. “I step away for two minutes and you get yourself into trouble.”

---

They go back to a motel after this and Damen reveals the money he stole from the tills while Laurent was being a distraction. Sexy times ensue. Damen eventually falls asleep and Laurent stays awake with the tv on. The news comes on and an interview is shown with Lykaios being interviewed about the robbery at the bar -- she gives a completely inaccurate description of what Damen looked like, and Laurent reflects on how easy it is for Damen to charm people to taking his side.

From Eden Part 3

Their most recent car was a much older model. The aircon was busted and they had to wind down the windows themselves, but at least the radio worked. It was hot, despite it being a couple of hours past sunset. 

Damen was singing with the radio. He wasn’t going to win any awards, but his voice was deep and he had a nice enough sense of the music. He grinned at Laurent. He was always happy. It was part of what made him so magnetic. 

Laurent smiled back. After two years with Damen, the expression felt natural.

Except for them, the road was empty. Damen reached over and took Laurent’s hand in his. 

“Watch the road,” Laurent said.

Damen laughed. “But you’re my favourite view.”

“I won’t be happy if you kill us in a car wreck.”

Obediently, Damen looked back to the road. And then, because it was Damen, the car sped up.

Laurent’s hair flew about chaotically, longer than it had ever been when his uncle had been keeping a hand of Laurent’s appearance. It needed a trim, but as much as Laurent trusted Damen, he didn’t trust him to do that. Damen had offered to take him to a salon, somewhere quiet where there was no chance he’d be recognised, but Laurent wasn’t fond of the idea of being trapped in a chair like that. He was too used to freedom by now.

-

“Left here,” Laurent instructed.

They’d had to slow down once the got near the town. It was best to avoid anyone’s attention for as long as possible. (An admittedly difficult feat when traveling with someone like Damen).

They drove a little way past the house, until they found an obscure little dirt road to park down. It wouldn’t do for someone to see the car. They grabbed their things, and looped back to the house on foot.

Quietly, Damen was still singing. 

“Stop it,” Laurent said.

“You love it,” he replied. “This is your birthday present, baby, at least look like you’re having fun.”

“This is literally the worst place we could get caught.”

“No it isn’t,” Damen replied. “I checked out the police station last time I was here. Breaking out of the cells would be too easy.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“There were no lights on when we drove by. No one is home.”

That was true. And they’d timed it perfectly, assuming schedules hadn’t changed in the last two years. The house was silent when they got to it, not a light in sight as promised.

Laurent took a deep breath.

“Chin up,” Damen said. “Let’s go rob your uncle.”

-

The spare key wasn’t where uncle used to keep it, so they went around the back and Damen fucked with the lock until it opened. It was almost hard to walk into the house, full of so many bad memories, except it had never truly been Laurent’s home and he could just tell himself this was another job. 

“The study,” Laurent said, leading the way.

They crept up the stairs together, torches on their lowest settings.

The study was a formidable room with the big, mahogany desk, and the shelves of books that existed solely to make visitors feel stupid. “Look at this,” Laurent said, pulling out one of the books. “War and Peace in Russian. He doesn’t even know Russian.”

Damen reached past him, and nonchalantly, tipped a stack of books off the shelf. They clattered noisily onto the floor. “Oops,” Damen said. He turned away. “Where’s the safe?”

“Under the desk,” Laurent replied. He was busy searching through the books, finding any early editions to pilfer. They’d probably be able to sell them to an antique store for a bit of quick cash. 

Damen worked away at the safe for a bit, guessing potential codes Laurent had told him about. “None of these are working, sweetheart.” The safe made a beeping noise. “Oh, wait. Got it. Wow, he really deserves to be robbed.”

“I’m sure he thought I’d never come back here.”

Damen made a vaguely angry noise. He didn’t like reminders of what had happened to Laurent in this house. He’d even tried to convince Laurent that they could just murder his uncle while they were here. Laurent wasn’t sure he wanted to add cold-blooded murder to their repertoire just yet though. However tempting.

Damen stood up, suddenly. Hands full of Laurent’s uncle’s emergency cash. He grinned.

“Happy birthday - to - you,” he crooned.

Laurent couldn’t help it. He laughed. “I love you, you beautiful fucking bastard.” 

Abandoning the books, Laurent moved in and kissed him. Carefully, Damen put the money down on the desk so that he could cup Laurent’s face in his hands. It was always intoxicating to kiss Damen. There was something about him that made Laurent forget himself until there was only the press of their lips.

“I love you too,” Damen whispered, pulling back a little. He’d stopped smiling; it was a moment of complete genuine emotion. He did that sometimes, always out of the blue, and it always made Laurent want to clutch him tighter and maybe cry. 

“Let’s finish up here,” Laurent said, “and then we can go find somewhere nice and fuck under the stars.”

“You always know just what to say to seduce me,” Damen said.

They bagged the money, and the books Laurent had picked, and then they made their way down the stairs again.

“Wait,” Damen said.

“What?”

“I’m hungry.” He turned into the kitchen and opened the fridge. “Oh hey, chocolate.”

Actually, that was an idea. Laurent followed him into the kitchen and went straight for the pretentious temperature controlled wine fridge. “Pinot noir or Shiraz?”

“Whatever is more expensive,” Damen replied. He was adding strawberries and oranges to the bag as well. Cream?”

“It’ll go warm too fast.”

“I feel like we should unplug the fridge before we go, at least,” Damen added. “If you’re still against me putting bleach in the milk.”

“Wouldn’t that make it curdle?”

Damen shrugged. “I don’t know. I had a cement mixer in a bar once but that was lime juice.”

“You can unplug the fridge. If he dies from food poisoning, that’s on him.”

Damen started to look for the cord to the fridge.

“Wait,” Laurent whispered. “Did you hear that?”

They froze, listening.

There it was. The soft sound of the stairs creaking. Fuck. Silently, Laurent gestured towards the back door. Damen nodded. He was carefully reaching over to the knife stand.

“Renaud?” came a small voice.

A young boy, no more than thirteen, stepped into the kitchen. He was wiping at one eye sleepily in a childlike gesture. Less childlike were the bruises on his arms. Laurent knew he and Damen had matching expressions of horror.

The boy’s eyes widened as he took them in. “Who are you?” he said.

Damen’s expression was one of barely concealed fury. He looked at Laurent. “I’m not leaving until that man is in a shallow grave.”

“Don’t scare the boy,” Laurent admonished. He turned to the child and tried to look as non-intimidating as a late-night home invader could possibly look. “What’s your name?”

“Are you Renaud’s friends?” The boy asked.

“No,” Laurent said. “Definitely not. I’m Laurent.”

The boy was frowning. “You used to live here.” 

“Yes.”

“Well,” he straightened up, suddenly hostile. “You’re not allowed to come back. He doesn’t want you anymore; I’m better.”

“Where are your parents?” Damen asked.

“We’re not giving him back to parents who-”

“They’re dead,” the boy said. He didn’t sound upset.

--

The boy is obviously Nicaise. They hear a car in the driveway and Laurent locks Nicaise in the pantry. Laurent’s protective instinct rears up and he insists they kill the uncle now. Damen is fully down for it. Murder ensues. They let Nicaise out and keep him away from finding out that the uncle is dead in the next room. They tell Nicaise to pack a back and discuss what to do with him. Damen suggests dropping him off at a hospital or somewhere like that where someone can get help for him (since they can’t exactly go to the cops). 

Nicaise overhears and says that he doesn’t want to have a new foster parent; at least his current one has a big house. Laurent hearing that feels too wary to risk Nicaise getting another bad household. Damen is like, well I guess we can keep him if you want??? Laurent agrees. They go get in the car and drive away. 

-

Anyway this AU was directly inspired by the film clip for Hozier’s ‘From Eden’, you should watch it bc that’s the story I intended to write 

[wangxiangiftexchange]

Winter Solstice Gift for moonanstars124

The request was for fluff, found family, annoying the extended family, and AU coffee shop vibes (which I took extremely literally). I had a lot of fun writing this (my first actual coffee shop AU!) and I hope you enjoy it @moonanstars124!

Read on AO3

*****

The Burial Grounds

“Is there even a point in telling you what I want?” Jin Zixuan asks. “As you’ve never once made what I ordered.”

Wei Wuxian beams at him. “Of course! It gives me direction. A genre, if you will.”

“You do have a specific listing for a surprise drink.” Jin Zixuan resettles a-Ling on his hip. “If I wanted that, don’t you think I’d have ordered it?”

“Well, no,” Wei Wuxian explains reasonably. He reaches across the counter and pats the baby’s cheek. “If you wanted to get what you ordered, you’d have asked Wen Ning to make it.” Wen Ning turns from where he is setting up the soup tureen to shrug in apologetic agreement.

Jin Zixuan sighs deeply. “Someday I’m going to stop tipping you.”

“You can do that on the day that you don’t like what I make you,” Wei Wuxian informs him. “I mean, you won’t, because ajie would never stay married to someone who didn’t tip. But I would understand if you considered it.”

Lan Wangji half-listens to the exchange from his corner table. It is a familiar one, enough so to be pleasant background noise without distracting too much from his book. When the proper disruption comes, it is neither unexpected nor unwelcome, as it happens every morning around this time. He has already closed his book and moved his empty cup to make room for the small chalkboard that appears in front of him.

“Spicy vegetable for the soup,” Wei Wuxian announces, flinging himself down in the other chair. It is not yet nine in the morning, and he already looks happily tired. Lan Wangji nods and wipes the board clean—perhaps not strictly necessary, but if he redoes the borders, Wei Wuxian will sit with him for longer and take a proper break. “White chocolate and cranberry scones, because ajie loves us very much. And...hm. I’ll do a blueberry mint lemonade today, I think. Do we have blueberries?”

This last is for Wen Ning, who sets down Wei Wuxian’s coffee, Lan Wangji’s refill, and a plate with two of the aforementioned scones. “We do,” Wen Ning confirms. “But they’ll go moldy soon, so you should use them up.”

“Perfect.” Wen Ning smiles at both of them and returns to the counter. Wei Wuxian leans back in his chair, stretches his legs full-length, and looks around the coffee shop with satisfaction. One of his ankles comes to rest against Lan Wangji’s. Without looking up from the chalkboard, Lan Wangji puts his free hand on the table. Wei Wuxian laces their fingers together and dips a scone in his drink.

This is how mornings have gone nearly every day for a few years now. Wen Ning arrives early to open; Wei Wuxian staggers down from the apartment upstairs after being prodded awake by Lan Wangji, who claims his table and reads as the coffee shop comes to life around him. Jin Zixuan arrives at some point, bearing the day’s soup and pastries from Lotus Pier Cafe and often as not a dinner invitation for all of them from Jiang Yanli. Lan Wangji earns his coffee by writing out the day’s specials; Wei Wuxian seizes the opportunity to sit down for as long as it takes him to complete the task. Then Lan Wangji gives his table over to the morning rush and goes to work himself. Cloud Recesses Books is close enough to walk to in good weather, and he gets there in time to open. When the coffeeshop closes at three, Wei Wuxian wanders over and spends the rest of the afternoon doing his own reading or debating with Lan Qiren. It is a pleasant routine, and Lan Wangji sometimes has to stop and wonder at how happy he is.

There has been a coffee shop here for decades, under one owner or another, but the Jiangs bought it only three years ago. Lan Wangji remembers perfectly the first time he visited it after that. It was Lan Xichen’s idea to see what the new management had done with the place, and they went for lunch the first month after it reopened. “‘The Burial Grounds?’” Lan Xichen reads, pausing outside the door. “Interesting name choice.”

“After the Burial Mounds, presumably,” Lan Wangji points out. “The nature preserve outside the city.”

“Ah,” his brother says. “Naturally.”

Despite the name, the inside is entirely pleasant: walls repainted to brighten the space, spider plants hanging in the windows, a detailed menu in plain neat lettering on the chalkboard above the counter, specials in the same writing on a smaller one by the pastry case. “They must outsource their food,” Lan Xichen observes, nodding at the familiar lotus image. “The Jiangs own Lotus Pier too, so it makes sense.”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji says. He is listening. He is.

Lan Xichen follows his gaze to the mug on the counter, which holds pens for signing receipts and also a small rainbow flag. “Ah,” he agrees. “That is a pleasing development.”

The line is long enough that they can take their time reading the menu. This is good, because it contains none of the conventional titles. The Med Student, Lan Wangji reads. Four espresso shots in a cup. Below that is The Jiejie: soooooup! (See Specials board for today’s variety). And on and on: The Peacock (a white chocolate mocha with nutmeg), The Angry Brother (chamomile and hibiscus tea), The Adorable Nephew (warm milk with honey), The Headshaker (“Decisions are hard, so let us surprise you!”). Some have less of a story, Lan Wangji thinks: The First Timer is just a latte, and The Adventurer promises undisclosed amounts of cayenne. The result is a place that feels well-loved without being unwelcoming.

“It certainly has character,” Lan Xichen observes as they near the counter. The young man who takes their orders has a quiet earnest smile; he carefully lists the non-dairy milk options for Lan Wangji.

Despite the line, they find a window table easily enough—it is towards the end of the lunch hour—and they watch the street while they wait. It is only a few minutes before a different employee appears with their orders, mugs and bowls balanced precariously enough that Lan Wangji watches the soup in some alarm. But the dishes and their contents reach the table safely, which means that he can look up when the server says brightly, “Can I get you anything else?”

Lan Wangji thinks, Oh. He only barely prevents himself from saying it aloud, and the effort keeps him from speaking at all.

“Oh, wow,” the beautiful man says, staring back at him. Then he shakes himself. ��Uh. Sorry. Is this your first time here?”

“We thought we’d see what the new ownership had done with it,” Lan Xichen explains. There is laughter in his voice, subtle enough that Lan Wangji hopes nobody else can hear it. “Our family owns Cloud Recesses, the—”

“The bookshop down the street!” The server’s face lights up—lights up more—and Lan Wangji gives up any hope of forming words himself. “I’ve been in there a few times. I thought you looked familiar.” This is to Lan Xichen; to Lan Wangji, he says, “I haven’t seen you before, though.” He does not say, I would remember, but the sentiment comes through clearly enough that Lan Wangji feels his ears go pink.

“My brother just finished university,” Lan Xichen explains. The amusement has become noticeably less subtle. “He will be working with us.”

“Oh wonderful!” the beautiful man says. “We’ll hope to see you again, then. Both of you, of course.” He sticks his hands into his apron pockets. “I’m Wei Wuxian, the manager. Which is, you know, terrifying. I’m probably not supposed to tell customers that part, though.”

Lan Xichen laughs aloud now, kindly, and Lan Wangji loves his brother for the way the beautiful man—Wei Wuxian—relaxes. “We understand,” Lan Xichen says. “Starting a business is a rather stressful experience at the best of times. I am Lan Xichen; this is Lan Wangji.”

“Welcome to the Burial Grounds, Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji,” Wei Wuxian says gravely, eyes dancing. “Please do let me know if you need anything. Or Wen Ning, he’s honestly much more capable than I am.” He jerks his head towards the counter, where the young man who took their orders is wiping down the espresso machine. “Anyway, I have to get back to work, but I hope you’ll come back.”

“I am certain we will,” Lan Xichen assures him. Wei Wuxian’s eyes linger on Lan Wangji’s face for a moment. When he manages to nod agreement, the smile widens. Wei Wuxian ducks his head at both of them and disappears into what is presumably the back room.

“Well,” Lan Xichen says, after a moment. “This is a delightful discovery.”

“Brother,” Lan Wangji says, deeply pained. He suspects that his ears have gone full scarlet by now.

“I mean the coffee shop, of course.” Lan Xichen takes a sip of his latte and hums with pleasure. “And as a small business ourselves, it’s only right to support others in the neighborhood. We shall have to become regulars.”

Lan Wangji sighs.

He returns alone the next day, just for a coffee in the morning. The one after that, Wei Wuxian sets his drink on the table with a hesitation that already seems out of character. When Lan Wangji tilts his head in question, he says, “I, uh, made you something special. If you want the one you actually ordered, I’ll do that instead, I just...sometimes I get the idea for new things, and I thought you’d like this one.”

Lan Wangji looks at the mug in front of him. It looks like the perfectly dull mocha that he had ordered, unsure what else to get, except that there are flower buds of some kind on top of the foam. He doesn’t know what to say, so he just nods and takes a cautious sip. “Lavender,” he says. He closes his eyes, which helps keep his brain from panicking when Wei Wuxian sits down in the empty chair. “Salt. Something sweet, apart from the chocolate?”

When he opens his eyes, Wei Wuxian’s smile is brilliant. “Birch syrup,” he confirms. “Good, I wasn’t sure how much that would come through; I haven’t used it before. But do you like it? You’re the first person to try that one.”

“Mm.” Lan Wangji looks down at the cup again: something made just for him, not for anyone else. “I like it.” He lifts his head again.

“Oh, wow,” Wei Wuxian murmurs, as he had the first day. “Sorry, I know I’m being weird. I just hadn’t seen you smile before.”

“Not weird,” Lan Wangji says, when he finds his voice. “At least, I don’t mind.” He clears his throat. “Thank you. For the drink. You should put it on the menu.”

“Yeah?” Wei Wuxian grins. “I can do that.”

There is indeed a new listing on the large chalkboard the following day: Dark chocolate mocha with lavender, sea salt, and birch syrup. Lan Wangji looks at the name of it and swallows. The Beautiful Stranger, it says, printed neatly in white chalk below The Headshaker.

When he has been coming to the Burial Grounds several times a week for a month, Lan Wangji arrives one morning to find Wei Wuxian darting frantically back and forth behind the counter. “Wen Ning called out sick,” he explains, when Lan Wangji gets to the front of the line. “This is definitely my reminder to hire more staff. I meant to, since we’ve been doing pretty well, but I just hadn’t gotten around to it. Anyway, sorry, what can I get you?”

Lan Wangji looks at the smear of cocoa powder on his cheek and says, “Is there anything I can do? I do not know how to use the machines, but I could help with other things.”

“You know,” Wei Wuxian says, “that would actually be amazing. Uh, let’s see. I need to get the Specials board up but my handwriting is atrocious. Would you mind? We’ve got chicken dumpling soup and vegan ginger snaps. No drink specials because I have too much else to worry about today.”

When that task is done (“Oh my god,” Wei Wuxian says, staring. “Well, I know I’m never ever showing you my writing”), Lan Wangji clears tables and wipes down the counter and takes orders. All the while, Wei Wuxian darts around the shop like a cheerful whirlwind. “Don’t you have to go to work?” he asks at one point, managing to pour a perfect latte and read the next ticket at once. “I’ll manage. I mean, I don’t know how, but—”

“I have texted my brother,” Lan Wangji says calmly. “He and uncle will cover the bookshop today.”

“...Right,” Wei Wuxian says. “I feel like I should fight you on that, but also I don’t have time. Thank you.”

At three o’clock, Wei Wuxian sets the Closed sign, draws the curtains, and collapses facedown onto the couch where the college students like to study. Lan Wangji regards him for a moment, then puts down the rag he was using to wipe down the last table. He still cannot use the espresso machine, but the kettle is a more familiar creature.

Wei Wuxian lifts his head blearily at the clink of saucer on table. He sits up enough to drink his tea without spilling it, and he devours two of the ginger snaps that Lan Wangji brought over in rapid succession. Lan Wangji sits down in the armchair across from the couch and sips his own tea.

The cookies seem to revive Wei Wuxian a little. “Thank you,” he says. “Again. For the tea and for, you know, everything. How can I repay you? Not a rhetorical question.”

Lan Wangji cradles his tea, glad to have something to do with his hands. “Well,” he says, “when I came in this morning, I meant to ask if you would have dinner with me.”

“Oh!” Wei Wuxian looks at him, wide-eyed. “I—hang on, past tense? Did you change your mind? I guess you did just get the total immersion experience, which I’m told is a lot—”

“I enjoyed the experience,” Lan Wangji says. “But I do not wish you to feel obligated. I will not ask you in a conversation about compensation for my labor.”

“...Right,” Wei Wuxian says. “Because you think about things like that, because you’re a ridiculously good person as well as gorgeous and in possession of unbelievably nice handwriting. Hold on.” He sets down his mug and goes to the counter, does something out of sight involving paper and a pen, and returns. “Here.” Lan Wangji puts down his own tea and inspects the offering: a gift certificate (filled out in a scrawl that is admittedly dreadful) for enough to keep him supplied with coffee for a month, more if he cuts down on his visits. “And I’ll get you all the tips from today, once they’re counted.”

Lan Wangji does not imagine that he will be cutting down on his visits.

“This will do,” he decides, and tucks the paper away in his wallet. “And half the tips. You worked very hard.”

When he looks up again, Wei Wuxian is fidgeting beside his chair. “Sure,” he says. “Great. So is the compensation conversation finished? Can we have the other one now?”

Lan Wangji smiles; he cannot do anything else. Deliberately, he stands up so they are facing each other. Wei Wuxian swallows, but his eyes are bright and he is smiling helplessly as well. Lan Wangji says, “Would you like to have dinner with me?”

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian replies immediately. Then, “You mean like a real date, right? I mean, I’d still say yes either way, but just so we’re clear.”

“A real date,” Lan Wangji confirms.

“Oh wonderful,” Wei Wuxian says. “I really hoped that was what you meant. Yes. Did I already say that?”

He is still in his apron, which has great smears on it from when a cup of coffee spilled on the counter earlier. His hair is coming loose from its tie for at least the fourth time that day; there is raspberry syrup on his forehead and powdered sugar on his nose. He is very, very beautiful.

Lan Wangji reaches up and tucks one loose strand of hair behind his ear. It does very little to help anything, but it means that he gets to feel the slight intake of breath as Wei Wuxian goes still. Lan Wangji does not drop his hand back to his side. Instead, he cups Wei Wuxian’s cheek very gently. He whispers, “May I—”

“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian says, a little hoarsely. “Yeah, yes, please—”

Lan Wangji kisses him. Wei Wuxian makes a soft sweet sound and puts both arms around his neck; Lan Wangji cradles his face a little more firmly and drops his other hand to the small of Wei Wuxian’s back, drawing him in.

And so now it has been three years, or near enough. Lan Wangji dutifully writes out the Specials board every morning; the main menu also bears his script. He has met Wen Qing, who is now a surgeon and no longer the Med Student of the four expresso shots but who remains alarmingly intense. He has also met the Adorable Nephew and the Headshaker as well as the Peacock, Jiejie, and the Angry Brother, all three of whom received him with some combination of suspicion and amusement. “So you’re the Beautiful Stranger,” Jiang Cheng says, having shown up at the Burial Grounds to demand an introduction all of two days after that first date. “Hmph. He’s been yammering about you for a month; you better have been worth it.”

Lan Wangji is trying to be worth it. He plans to ask Wei Wuxian to marry him soon, and he thinks that Wei Wuxian will probably accept. This doesn’t really make the prospect of proposing any less daunting; what does is the way Wei Wuxian pulls him back to bed for sleepy kisses in the mornings, trusting and sure of affection reciprocated. Lan Wangji rather expects that he will slip and ask the question at one of these times, rather than at the dinner date he has scheduled for their anniversary. He doesn’t really mind the idea.

[1heartfanfics]

Criminal Minds 4x24

SPOILERS: This is an alternate scene to 4x24 where Reid gets exposed to anthrax. 

“Morgan don’t come in here!” Reid shouted. 

“What? Hey, kid let me in,” Morgan pounded on the glass. What the hell was the kid doing?

“No, Morgan-” 

Derek cut him off, “Open this door right now Reid.”

“Morgan,” Reid said seriously, putting his hand flat up against the glass. Derek took a step back, raising his hands as if to say ‘okay fine’. Then he looked behind Reid and saw the shattered test tube on the ground, white powder spilling out onto the floor. Immediately he looked up to the vent on the ceiling to check for exactly what he was afraid of. Air flowing.

“Shit Reid, what did you do?” he sighed. 

“I screwed up Morgan. I screwed up,” Reid shook his head, gaze moving to the floor. 

“Hey, kid, it’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna call Hotch and then we’ll get an ambulance and get you out of here,” Morgan said, trying to remain calm.

“No. I’m gonna stay right here,” Reid said firmly.

“What? Like hell you are,” Morgan scoffed. 

“Morgan I’m already exposed, and I’ve got a few hours before symptoms start, I might as well stay here and work the case,” he explained. 

Derek sighed, “I don’t like this.”

“I know, but the cure is probably here somewhere. This is my best bet and you know it,”

Morgan leaned forward, placing his fist on the glass near where Reid’s hand was. His heart was pounding and he felt like he was having trouble breathing right. This kid was like his little brother, if anything happened to him...

“You go call Hotch and tell him what happened and I’ll look around in here, see if I can find anything helpful,” Reid said, sounding calm despite the fear in his eyes. 

“Okay right,” Morgan said, taking a deep breath. Pull it together, the kid needs you, he told himself. “I’ll be right back, you hang in there okay?”

Reid nodded and gave him a wry smile. Morgan gave him a nod back then headed down the sidewalk to the SUV and dialed Hotch. 

“Morgan, anything?” Hotch answered.

“Yeah, we’ve got a situation though,” Morgan said. “Reid knocked over a tube in the lab. White powder on the floor, air flowing. But the guy’s in there, dead,”

“So he’s not our guy but someone who knew him was,” Hotch said.

“Hotch, did you not hear what I just said? Reid’s exposed,” Morgan exclaimed. Hotch can be so unfeeling sometimes.

“Yes, I heard you. Get him out of there and to a hospital. Hopefully what we took this morning will protect him enough,” Hotch said.

“He wants to stay, work the case from in there, since he’s already exposed. Said they can’t help him at the hospital,” Morgan explained.

“True, the cure is probably in there with him somewhere,” Hotch agreed.

“Yeah that’s what he said, but Hotch I don’t like this,” Morgan sighed, pressing his other hand to his leg to still it’s shaking. The kid is about the only thing that gets him shaken up anymore.

“I don’t like it either, but Reid’s right. Let him do his thing, he’ll figure this out. I’ll get medics there standing by for whenever Reid can get out of there. Meantime, get back to the station and-”

Morgan cut his boss off, “I’m staying right here Hotch. Not gonna leave the kid in there by himself like this.”

“Okay, keep me updated,” Hotch said before hanging up. Wow, he’d expected that to be a lot more of an argument. He forced himself to take a few deep breaths, then walked back over to join Reid. 

“How we doing Reid?” Morgan called through the door, rapping on it with his knuckles. 

“I found what looks like a dissertation paper that someone was working on, the handwriting is definitely different,” Reid said.

“So he was working with a student?” Morgan asked.

“Most likely. That would make sense, someone he was kind of, mentoring,” Reid broke off to cough.

“Kid, you okay?” Morgan asked, leaning into the glass as much as he could, hand cupped over his eyes to see in. God he wished he was in there with him. Reid was already starting to look sweaty and shaky. He didn’t have as much time as he thought he did. 

“Yeah, fine,” Reid lied, stubborn as always. 

“Okay, is there a name or anything else we can use to identify this guy?” 

“I don’t- I don’t know,” Reid said, stumbling and catching himself on the counter.

“Alright, okay, that’s okay. The rest of the team will figure it out, but you gotta find that cure okay?” Morgan said, fighting to keep his voice steady.

“I, I don’t know. I can’t think straight,” Reid broke off into a coughing fit again, hand gripping the edge of the counter tightly.

“Hey, come on kid, the Reid I know wouldn’t give up, he’d keep looking and figure this out,” Morgan said, bordering on desperation.

Reid sighed, “Okay, okay let’s see.” He pushed away from the counter and walked shakily back over to the lab station. “It’s probably in something conspicuous, that no one would expect right?” 

“Right. It would probably be a common object that no one would think to look at. But you aren’t just anyone, you’ll know it when you see it Reid,” Morgan said, trying to stay positive. 

As he watched Reid fumble around, papers flying onto the ground in his frenzy to find it, he heard the ambulance pulling into the drive. Thank the lord, he thought. Reid was running out of time and they both knew it. 

“Inhaler?” Reid asked, holding it up.

“Maybe, yeah. That would work,” Morgan agreed.

“Let’s hope I’m right,” Reid said, leaning against the door for support. 

“Medics!” Morgan called, waving an arm to get their attention. “Get him outta there!” 

“I don’t feel so good Morgan,” Reid said, his face now ashen gray, hair matted to his forehead with sweat.

“I know kid, we’re gonna get you out of there now, just try to hang on,” Morgan replied. 

“He’s in there?” the sanitation team came up behind him and started setting up a tent for Reid.

“Yes. And get that inhaler in his hand sent to the lab for testing immediately, he thinks it’s the cure,” Morgan ordered. 

“Yes sir,” the leader of the team nodded as everyone set to work. “You’ll have to go stand back at your vehicle until he’s being sanitized,” he added.

“Alright Reid, I’ve gotta go away for a minute but I’ll be back as soon as I can okay?” Morgan turned his attention back to Reid, who nodded, but didn’t really seem super comprehensive anymore. He was fading fast. 

Morgan walked back down the path to the SUV and waited, pacing back and forth anxiously. He sent the team a message saying that Reid might’ve found the cure and was being prepped to be taken to the hospital, as well as everything he’d found out about the partner. Then he just had to wait until he was given the all clear. 

As soon as he was notified that Reid was out and in the containment of the tent he jogged over to where they were hosing the kid down. Reid glanced up at him and gave a sad smile. He actually looked a little better than he had earlier, maybe it had just been nerves getting to him. 

“How you doing kid?” he asked.

“You should go back to the station, help the team,” Reid said.

“Not a chance Reid, I’m staying right here,” he shook his head.

“Morgan. They’re about to take off all my clothes and scrub me down, you really want to be here for that?” Reid told him dryly. 

“I’ll turn around. But I’m not leaving you,” Morgan said firmly. 

Reid sighed, “Thank you.”

As much as Reid didn’t want to admit it, he was terrified. He could feel the chemicals shutting down his body, getting closer and closer to dying every second. It was only a matter of time before the symptoms set it worse than they already had. 

“I”m right here kid,” Morgan said, turning around as he promised, to spare both of them the awkwardness. 

Once Reid was completely cleaned and covered, Morgan followed him into the ambulance, hopping up to sit on the opposite side as the doctor who’d accompanied them. 

“How are you doing Dr. Reid?” the doctor asked as soon as the vehicle started moving.

“I feel fi, fine feel, I fore fine, fe-” Reid choked on his words, unable to get them out. His eyes went wide, panic stricken. His hand flailed towards Morgan, searching for something to grab onto as he was taken with a coughing fit, blood splattering down on the blanket covering him. 

“Reid? Reid hey, stay with me,” Morgan said desperately, grabbing the kid’s hand in his own to help hold him steady as the doctor wiped the blood away and pulled an oxygen mask over his face. 

“Try to stay calm Dr. Reid,” she told him as she began putting an IV to give him something for the pain.

“No. You can’t give him narcotics,” Derek said once he realized what she was doing.

“He’s in an extreme amount of pain,” she protested, looking shocked. 

“I know. He wouldn’t want them,” Derek sighed, hating to see the kid in so much pain but knowing Reid would never forgive him if he let her give him drugs.

Morgan watched in fear as Reid writhed and struggled the whole way to the hospital. He finally faded into unconsciousness as they pulled up to the ambulance bay, and he was actually grateful, as much as it scared him. At least he wasn’t suffering for the time being. 

“Is he gonna be okay?” Morgan asked, hopping down out of the vehicle as they carted Reid into the hospital.

“We should have the results back from the lab soon and hopefully that’ll be the cure. Otherwise I don’t know agent, the cipro you all took this morning obviously isn’t effective,” she told him honestly. 

“You’ll have to stay here agent, sorry, we’ll come get you as soon as he’s stable and in a room,” a doctor informed him, pushing him back from the hallway they were carting Reid down. 

Morgan nodded, feeling tears come to his eyes. He quickly swiped them away before dialing in the team. 

“How’s Reid?” it was JJ who’d answered first, the rest of the team patching in quickly after.

“He got a lot worse on the way to the hospital. They just took him away but if this cure doesn’t work...” he choked out, voice cracking.

“Oh god,” JJ breathed out.

“The cure will work, we have to believe that,” Hotch said, the level headed one as always. 

“It has to,” Prentiss echoed. They were all scared, he could hear it in their voices. Even Hotch.

“Keep us updated Morgan,” 

As soon as he hung up the phone there was a frenzy of people running around him and down the hallway. Oh god, did something happen? Just as he was about to take off down the hall, rules be damned, the doctor from earlier grabbed his arm. 

“We got the lab results, the cure works. Your friend will be fine, come with me,” she said, out of breath from running. The two of them took off down the hallway along with everyone else who was desperately trying to save the few other patients who were left. 

When they got to Reid’s room, she quickly injected the anecdote into Reid’s IV, then gave Morgan a pat on the shoulder, before heading out of the room to tend to the other patients. Morgan sunk down into the chair next to Reid’s bed, having never felt so relieved. He’d really though they were gonna lose him for a minute there. 

He quickly called the team to let them know that Reid was going to be fine, then settled into the chair. He was not going anywhere until the kid woke up, he’d stay right by his side. 

[sesskag1postchallenge]

Ch7 - Operation Grandpup Drop (A SitBoy Discord Crack Fic)

Warning this story is M bordering NSFW

Chapter 7:

Jaf Jaf08/11/2019

Salty air pressed to Kagome's lips, the tang strong and telling of where she was even before she awoke. As she slowly pulled from unconsciousness into consciousness, the rhytmic rocking of the world around her almost lulled her back to sleep. But when she finally opened her eyes she discovered why the to and fro of her surroundings was a reality and not the side effect of a twilight waking.

 Stormie Like Weather08/11/2019

Stumbling from below deck up to the helm, Kagome caught a most breath taking sight. Shirtless, hair billowing through the wind like another sail, muscles bulging as he turned the massive steering wheel, was Sesshomaru. The boat rocked hard, knocking her from her fantasy with a fierce roll of her stomach. She launched herself to the wooden rail and retched over the side. A large hand found her back while another found her forehead, she could feel his sigh exit his chest as they were pressed so close. "Kagome your warmth is too great for a human." "I have a fever?" She whimpered. "Yes. Go back below, and I will find land. You require food, rest, and water. As your mate, I will provide for you." "M-mate?" The world turned fuzzy. "Soon, yes." He caught her fainting body against solid muscle, the effect wasted since she was unconscious.

Walter20508/11/2019

What seemed like an eternity later, Kagome awoke. She was parched and felt weak beyond belief, but at least she no longer felt seasick or feverish as she compared the temperature of her forehead to that of the wooden teaked deck. 

 Gingerly she rose from the bed and made her way through the ship topside onto the deck. There she found Sesshomaru, naked except for his loincloth and horribly sunburned. Glancing around, she started feeling green again as land was nowhere in sight. She turned again to him to ask what had happened and that's when she noticed his odd behavior. 

 "Boat, boat, boat," he said over and over again, in almost a whisper. He sat there cross legged style, staring at the mainmast with a far away look in his eyes. 

 "Ummm, Sesshomaru?" Kagome asked tenatively as she approached the seated figure. Upon hearing his name, Sesshomaru's head snapped around and locked onto her. He pounced on her then, trapping her flat on the deck as his head came in close to hers, his eyes going wide as he stared with his yellow eyes less than three inches from her equally wide blue ones, the difference being the terror in hers and the determined madness in his. 

 "Ka...Boooooaaaaaatttttttttttt," it sounded like he started to say her name before he drew out 'Boat' again. Just as quickly as he had pounced her he was off of her again, by the mainmast running his hand up and down it as he resumed his 'boat' chant. 

 Getting up, Kagome spied a cup nearby and crawled over to it, wondering just what he had been eating and drinking the past few days or however long it had been. Upon sniffing and gently sipping the remaining contents of the cup, she discovered to her horror that the delirious Sesshomaru had been drinking seawater for kami knows how long now. 

 How was she getting out of this mess? Although, as thirsty as she was herself, it did look and taste pretty good...

 Slayer08/11/2019

"Umm Sesshomaru? Are you ok?" Kagome slowly walked over to him.

 Walter20508/11/2019

She was near frantic as she didn't know how she could help him. If only she had something other than more seawater to give him to drink, she might be able to snap him out of it, but she didn't see anything anywhere else on the boat. 

 Absently she rubbed her swollen breasts while she tried to think of a solution. Sometime after she had stepped in to help take care of Miroku and Sango's Infant Twins she had apparently started lactating and...her train of thought suddenly stopped along with her absent rubbing. 

 Could breast milk work? What if she could channel her own purification powers into it, maybe she could cleanse his system using miko milk? She frowned as apprehension welled up within her. She really really didn't want to do this, but letting him be as he was would almost certainly spell doom for the both of them. 

 After undoing her top she slowly approached him, arms out but not saying anything before getting in front of him. Gingerly she settled into a straddling position on top of him, kneeling over his cross legged form as she reluctantly blocked his view of the boat. 

 "Boat...," Sesshomaru growled at her as she obstructed his view, his claws elongating as he brought one hand up towards her. 

 "Boat, Boat, Boat," Kagome repeated as she pointed at her right breast, before bending forward towards his mouth. 

 'Please don't bite, Please don't bite, Please don't bite' 

 But the 'docking' was successful and thankfully he started suckling without much urging. Sighing softly, Kagome recalled her training and started praying while internally focusing her concentration and soon her upper body was aglow with pink light that seemed to be flowing into Sesshomaru's mouth as his sunburn began to heal.

 'Demonic healing? Please tell me he's returning to normal then?' Kagome thought as she broke out into a hard sweat. 

 Then his eyes, which had closed when he started feeding, suddenly opened, revealing his normal and stoically cold expression.

 Stormie Like Weather08/11/2019

Sesshomaru eyed the miko on the other side of the ship's deck, the taste of her still on his tongue. She had her fists clutching the front of her shirt as she stared out at the island just up ahead. What a surprise, albeit a pleasant one, she'd given him. Evidently seawater was not safe to drink, noted. And yet, she had thought to save him through her own nourishment. With what she'd one day feed their young with, and with a pang of jealously, he repressed that thought. At the moment, her breasts were his... or would be again as soon as he could win her over enough to attain them. The exquisite taste would not leave his mind as he watched her from the helm. Her face still looked red as she leaned back against the mast. Her hair was up in a messy bun, leaving her neck open for his imagination. As grateful as he felt for her assistance, he couldn't help but feel cursed at the same time. As much as he had wanted her before, it had now turned into an avarice that made him ache deep in his bones.

 Walter20508/11/2019

The island was tropical in nature and as they grew closer it appeared to actually be a series of islands ringing an ancient volcano that has sunken into the sea or an atoll as you would otherwise call it. Kagome was wowed at the crystal clear water that displayed luscious coral reefs and dazzling arrays of tropical fish as the Junk just barely cleared the reefs on high tide and coasted through a small channel into the lagoon before dropping anchor. 

 Together the two of them took a hastily assembled raft to a nearby shore that had palm trees and lush vegetation. Within thirty minutes Kagome had constructed a hasty shelter while Sesshomaru had killed a boar and gathered several coconuts that he easily pried open.

 Soon they were feasting next to a roaring campfire as the skies began to darken with the fading night. But unbeknownst to them, they were being watched.

 Taki 滝08/11/2019

Suddenly, as thought awaiting the perfect moment, a great Sea-Dragon exploded from the water, and with a quick flick of his tail, flung Sesshomaru to the other side of the island. Now with the female alone, having watched her activities on the boat and desiring her as well.

The dragon coalesced into a being, tall and imposing. She grinned toothily, hissing her pleasure as the female fell off her seat in fear. Quickly, as she had learned to do, the dragon used her impressive and long chinese tail to grab the girl by the waist and bring her closer. "You will make a fine harem girl for myself. And maybe a tasty snack later." She spat a strange mucus webbing out, slapped it on the girl's mouth, and flung them both back into the water, diving deep into the depths. 

Once deep in her cavernous underwater lair, the dragon secured the girl in her pretties harem, and indicated to the servants to prepare her for her... induction that night. She couldn't wait for her snack!

 Stormie Like Weather08/11/2019

Kagome backed up against the sea cave wall as squirmy tentacles held her arms. The sea dragon queen reached out with both hands in a grabby grabby motion toward Kagome's milk filled breasts. "Nooooo!" Kagome shouted as her reiki glittered around her like Edward from Twilight's skin. 

Sesshomaru burst through the water barrier as a sopping wet 50ft dog, snarling. No one would get that milk except for him or his future pups!

 Walter20508/11/2019

A portal opened just then and all stopped what they were doing as Inukimi walked through, looking totally nonplussed. 

 "I have been watching the proceedings for some time through my magical inter-dimensional necklace and while things have been quite entertaining for a while, I'm afraid I must now step in and restore order. Back to the Castle we go," Inukimi said as she knocked both Kagome and Sesshomaru out with her debilitating poison and had her servants carry them back through. 

 Turning to the Sea Dragon, Inukimi offered her apologies for the intrusion and deposited ten six pence on the ground as compensation before going back through and closing the portal.

 Stormie Like Weather08/11/2019

Wiping the drool from her mouth, Kagome woke naked in a pile of silk on top of a futon. She groaned, holding her head. Suddenly a deep snore behind her had her eyes bulging. Slowly, she looked back over her shoulder to see a large mass of white fluff. Her trembling hand reached out, sinking into the down silk. The stripes caught her attention, and she bit her lip. "Sesshomaru?" She questioned.

 imjaneees08/11/2019

Sesshomaru, feeling the stirring of the woman of his dreams, peered an eye open. Noticing her state of undress, his brows furrowed, "Did we rut? If we did, I do not remember and demand a reenactment." His trusty nose was useless for some reason or another so he really couldn't tell.

 Stormie Like Weather08/11/2019

She covered her chest with the first thing she could get her hands on, his tail. "N-no! I don't think so!" She expected that'd lead to being extra sore, but she only felt a bit hungry and thirsty. "I'm just hungry."

 imjaneees08/12/2019

Brows furrowing even lower, Sesshomaru sat up, a sense of contentment settling in the pit of his stomach at seeing his tail covering her bosom. Did she even know he could feel her breasts with the thing? Likely not, and he was not inclined to tell her any time soon. But back to the matter at hand, "Are you certain? I feel strangely....sated. Mother has mentioned spells capable of removing pain. And I still cannot remember and this one demands a reenactment. Preferably now."

 Slayer08/12/2019

"I mean yeah fairly certain. Youd be able to smell it right so if you cant smell it then it didnt happen. Now I need to find the facilities and take care of my morning ritual." Kagome  grabbed a length of silk from the bed and did her best to wrap it around herself before getting up and making her way over to the privy and wash basin.

 Stormie Like Weather08/12/2019

Hackles risen, Sesshomaru decided he could not tell her his nose  was basically useless at the moment. He had more pride than that. Not caring that he was exposed, Sesshomaru ventured out from the room the futon was in and explored there obvious place of captivity. They walls and ceilings suggested this was his mother's sky castle. The cutesy drawings he found scribbled all over the wall in the hall told him that this had once been his sisters' nursery, windowless to keep them from using InuEmi's cloud to sneak out. The same rooms were now being used to keep him contained. The door had been sealed by his Mother's own power. They would not be leaving until she gave in and let them out. With a sigh of exasperation, Sesshomaru walked through the small hall and into a room filled with a buffet of food. Fresh fruits, clear broth, rice, and steamed fish were all neatly placed. The miko did say she was hungry... and so he gathered up two places and brought them back to the room he'd awoken in, only to find her....

 Walter20508/12/2019

Kagome sighed softly in contentment while lying face down on the bed as the topless Inuemi continued to massage the exotic hot oils into her back. “See my dear sister? These work wonders for relieving stress.”

 Stormie Like Weather08/12/2019

Sesshomaru blinked, and here he thought they were trapped in there to procreate, but then why was InuEmi here? The soft moans coming from his miko by the hands of another was enough to drive him insane, and he had to remind himself that while this creature was touching his intended in very intimate ways, said creature was still his flesh and blood. Shoving her to the side and taking up the massage oils, Sesshomaru ignored her hiss of protest and resumed the activity. Surely Kagome would prefer his hands to his siister's. 

"Ahh, what happened, your hands got all rough all of a sudden... are you using something?"

Sesshomaru pouted while his sister grinned evilly.

 Walter20508/12/2019

Inuemi sidled in closer again, carefully scooping some oil out of the bronze pan and pouring it over the back of Sesshomaru’s hands, letting it dribble down his fingers onto the miko’s succulent flesh so as to not give anything away. “Everything’s fine, just needed to get more oil,” she whispered soothingly.

 imjaneees08/12/2019

Ah, right. There were times when he wondered if Inuemi was simply his mother in disguise. This was one of them. That knowing look she threw them before she silently slipped away screamed entirely of his mother. Now, to wait for the inevitable.

 Stormie Like Weather08/12/2019

While he'd expected Kagome to eventually realize it was he, Sesshomaru, massaging her, instead, she fell asleep.

 Walter20508/12/2019

After a couple of minutes Inuemi returned, bearing a small basin with a stopped up drainer and suspended on chains. She hung it from the ceiling over the bed before blindfolding the still sleeping Kagome, who started to rouse. Quickly she indicated for Sesshomaru to stop rubbing. 

 "My dear, while reading about exotic therapies from the mainland I came across an interesting treatment referred to as Shirodhara, said to be poured onto your 'Third Eye'. If you'll turn over my dear, we can begin immediately," whispered Inuemi as she motioned Sesshomaru to raise up slightly. 

 With the room provided, Kagome slowly but gingerly roll over onto her back, blindfold still in place. Inuemi removed the stopped, allowing the oil to start pouring in a thin stream onto her forehead before flowing down her hair onto the bedpan that had been placed under her head. Next she gathered a handful of the other warm oil and gently poured it into Sesshomaru's hands again, before indicating for him to lower back down and making rubbing motions over Kagome's breasts. With another knowing smile and with a wink to boot, Inuemi once again departed the room, this time silently locking the door behind her. 

 She really was quite the little vixen. Unbeknownst to Sesshomaru, there was a little peephole in the next room over. She went to it and started watching as Sesshomaru started massaging Kagome's chest. Sure enough, soon the miko was making soft noises of appreciation. Those noises of appreciation combined with him running his hands over and around those soft warm melons would soon make Kagome intimately aware of something increasingly poking her in the stomach and when that happened, such fun fireworks were sure to erupt. 

 It should happen almost any second now...

 imjaneees08/12/2019

Okay this was getting hella weird, even by Kagome's standards, and that was saying a lot. She turned her head, "Uuuh, Inuemi I don't think-" no female had a jawline that sharp.

Her eyes snap up to see Sesshomaru's familiar face and the mother of all screeching escaped her lips. Jumping, falling really, down to the waters, she proceeded to throw whatever her hand could reach at the daiyoukai.

"You pervert! You don't just go pretending to be your sister just to get a feel! What's wrong with you?!" Her embarrassment heightened when she realized she just threw her hello kitty knickers at his face.

 Stormie Like Weather08/12/2019

Kagome threw a sheet toga on and began pounding on the door, "Let me out of here! There is no way I'll ever mate this perverted ice prick of a dog demon! I'll go on any date with any bachelor you'd like! Just let me out of this sex room with this dirty OLD DOG!" Her words grew more shrill by the second. 

Suddenly the door flung open and she fell into the arms of InuKimi, who by all standards looked quite cross. "Sesshomaru? Where have your manners gone? Have I taught you nothing?"

"InuEmi..." He pointed toward the door, but his mother was having none of it. 

"You say you'll go on any date with any bachelor?" Her yellow eyes gleamed as she looked down upon Kagome's angry and nodding face. 

"Yes! As long as you get me away from this pervert!" She shot a look of distake over her shoulder, "And to think I was growing to sort of like you! Jerk!"

"Well it's not perfect, but it's getting me somewhere!" InuKimi laughed, pulling the now willing miko along.

 imjaneees08/12/2019

Inukimi led Kagome down the hallway to her appointed room. She was smiling but inside she was plotting three plans a second. This won't do, this simply won't do at all. The pups born from this miko will be related to her through her son and that was that. Sure she will parade the girl for any and all, but that was so she could gloat when her son finally pups the girl. It won't really be hard maneuvering the girl, it was her son's complete lack of knowledge in human intimacies that made things complicated for her.

Her eyes glinted, no matter. All will go according to her plans, it always did.

 Stormie Like Weather08/12/2019

Sesshomaru glared at his mother as she strolled off with the miko, who for whatever reason let him suckle from her, but a massage had not been permitted. Next time he would ask. He had a nagging suspicion that his dastardly sister had tricked him. "InuEmi!" He growled.

"What?" She giggled, sticking her head out from the doorway, "What is it big brother? Lost your little miko?" Her grin fell, "Good! That's what you get for breaking my dolls when I was a little girl!"

 Walter20508/13/2019

Normally in this situation Sesshomaru was prone to physical violence. Certainly he had struck his retainer for far less, but even as he raised his hand up in such a manner as to strike her across the face with the back of it, an instinct took hold like a little voice in the back of his mind, even as Inuemi saw what he was doing and immediately sobered up, even looking a little afraid as she was quite possibly the tamest and least physically violent out of all four of them. 

 In that moment he knew that things would change and never go back to being the same if he struck. Something would irrevocably be broken. Engaging his brother in duels was one thing, sibling rivalries between brothers often resulted in such but this was something different. Gradually, he lowered his hand before turning and striding out of the room, stalking through the sealed areas before locating a suitably vacant room to physically trash his frustrations out on. 

 Inuemi watched him go, her eyes filling with tears of regret at her actions, so focused was she on payback that she hadn't considered how it would effect him or...'Oh Kami' how it might've affected Kagome. She had to find the miko and apologize, immediately.

 Stormie Like Weather08/13/2019

Unsure what to say or do, Kagome finished chewing her bite of sushi, and looked back at the distraught demoness doubled over beside the dining table. InuKimi had dressed her up once again in fine silks, and allowed her to go eat and drink to her heart's content. Two plates in and InuEmi appeared with a snotty teary face and sobbing an apology. "InuEmi, please don't be so upset. Whatever is wrong, I'm sure it will all work out." She whimpered, hidden beneath a curtain of silver hair as she shook her head, "You don't understand..." Her shoulders trembled, "I tricked Sesshomaru into touching your booooobs!" She wailed.

 Walter20508/13/2019

"Huh?" Kagome asked, confusion evident on her face, then realization came over her features. 

 "I set it up so Sesshomaru would be fondling out and arranged it so you would find him fondling you. I did it to cause an explosive reaction between the two of you to get him in hot water, a sibling revenge scheme for what Sesshomaru did to me in our youth. I didn't take your feelings or what would happen to you into consideration when I used you for it," explained Inuemi, confirming Kagome's suspicion. 

 With both thoughts about fights with Souta and pranks Shippou has played on Inuyasha coming to mind and seeing that at least she has learned her lesson, Kagome stood and walked to stand over Inuemi, seeing her flinch as it expecting Kagome to hit her. Feeling slightly offended at this, Kagome knelt down onto her knees and gathered Inuemi's chin into the palm of her hand as she brought her head up to stare eye level, golden orbs meeting deep blue ones. 

 "Inuemi, I realize that you realize what you've done is wrong and I will forgive you for doing this to me, but I will remember," said Kagome nicely but firmly, before inviting her to eat alongside Kagome. 

 While eating Inuemi couldn't help but steal side glances at Kagome while munching down on some meat glazed fruit. Before now she had seen her but as an arranged sister, but now she wanted to get to know her better. She certainly saw her as a valued pack member and wouldn't hesitate to die for her in a second if need be.

 Slayer08/13/2019

Kagome sat at the table for several minutes thinking about why Sesshomaru would fall for such a trick. And the only thing she could come up with is that demons aren't as into personal space.

 Stormie Like Weather08/13/2019

It was either that, or Sesshomaru was severely lacking in skills regarding women. She had to wonder, was he a thousand year old virgin?

 Walter20508/13/2019

"So where is Kouga? Aren't you two mated?" asked Kagome, breaking the awkward silence that had held reign for several minutes now. 

 "Oh, he heard that Inuyasha and Bankotsu were taking the Band of 13 to go hunt down Naraku, so he ran off and joined them. I still have three years until my next period of demonic heat so there wasn't much of a point in doing much beyond the marking ceremony at this point in time," explained Inuemi as she played with her food. 

 "Ah, I see," replied Kagome. 

 "So, apart from occasional shenanigans, how're your thoughts on Sesshomaru?" asked Inuemi in sly response. Kagome blushed slightly and played with her food for a few moments in turn before answering. 

 "Well...I like him, from what I've seen and experienced so far, I think I might him better then Inuyasha. Like his brother he's pretty rough around the edges but he has far superior grace, just needs to work on his social interaction a little bit," Kagome replied. 

 Having finished his temperamental rampage earlier, Sesshomaru listened in while taking mental notes.

 Stormie Like Weather08/13/2019

Leaning in to InuEmi, Kagome couldn't bare to ask above a whisper, "Has Sesshomaru ever even had a girlfriend?" "What do you mean?" Asked his sister with a delicately arched brow. "Well, it's pretty obvious that you were tricking him, unless he really doesn't have any experience with women at all." InuEmi's brows were both up into her hairline, "ew, I don't know about his sex life, you'll have to ask him yourself." Kagome flushed and blinked, ready to apologise when InuEmi tapped her own chin, "Well there was that one time we caught him with a rather large riceball..."

 Walter20508/13/2019

"And I recall mama mentioning someone named Kagura, but apparently she was killed by Naraku, poor thing," said Inuemi as she finished perusing her memories on the subject. 

 "Kagura? Huh, I remember her dying in front of Sesshomaru but I didn't realize that they were in a relationship, I guess him being there when she died makes more sense now. I knew above all she mostly desired being free from Naraku's control," Kagome monotoned aloud as she recalled her own memories on the subject. A single tear fell from the corner of Kagome's eyes as she thought about Sesshomaru suffering the loss of a loved one. 

 "So...what all involves the demon mating process, if you don't mind me asking?" Kagome asked somewhat apprehensively. She seemed a little more resigned to her seeming fate now. 

 "Well, the three main things involves the consent of the female to mate, the male marking the female as his somewhere on her body, and then a solid nighttime of rutting that accomplishes several things including placing his scent upon the female, becoming fully intimately familiar with her, and cementing the suitability for them to bear offspring together. If the female happens to be in heat then pupping may proceed as well," explained Inuemi, with Kagome listening while become somewhat flushed herself. 

 "And erm...the rutting? What is it like...to be with a demon?" asked Kagome, even more hesitantly this time. Inuemi turned to her with a devilish smile on her face. 

 "Well, I would imagine it would be much like a human male, but with I'd say more grace, stamina, endurance, and perhaps when approaching...the zenith a bit more on the savagery side, although not to a degree that the mate would be...damaged," Inuemi hazarded as she recalled her night of mating with Kouga. 

 "Thanks," replied Kagome, who had finished eating and now retreated towards the quarters Inukimi had provided for her earlier, her million going in a million different directions at once.

 Stormie Like Weather08/14/2019

While Sesshomaru was taking notes on how not to treat your miko, and Kagome was taking notes on how to navigate a fortress, Naraku was up to something of great importance - to him at least. "I don't care if 'normal' youkai sexually reproduce, Glitter Beard! That is not how I, Naraku, make my children!" He wanted another child since his most recent creation was not what he'd been expecting in terms of viciousness.

Glitter Beard sighed, "The other way is much more enjoyable daddy, you should try it!" When his "father" didn't respond, Glitter Beard rubbed his swollen belly, "These were made the old fashioned way and will be much more powerful than any budding-made offspring."

Now that got Naraku on to something, "Powerful you say?" His large hand reached out to stroke the stretched stomach of his pregnant incarnation. "Perhaps I will try this myself. Kukukuku..."

 Walter20508/14/2019

A day later, Glitter Beard was busy nursing his twin half fox-half zebra demon infants while watching Naraku undergo some weird bodily shenanigans. 

 "Pops, what are you doing?" asked Glitter Beard in a somewhat alarmed voice. 

 "Hhrrrrnnnnggg, quiet son," grunted Naraku as a large mass grew before separating from his body, landing on the ground below with a wet smack. When the shape resolved itself, Glitter Beard look on askance in a mixture of horror and wonder. 

 "May I present to the audience Number 70, named Spawnamaru, featuring the ability to simultaneously birth upwards of 72 offspring in a five day period. Had to raid five villages and several demon hideouts to absorb the nine human woman of just age, a few rat demons, and a spider to act as a connecting conduit for this baby," Naraku announced proudly. 

 Glitter Beard counted nine glory holes, eighteen milking stations, and eighteen arms plus eight spider limbs, a giant bio-organic birthing and feeding station indeed. 

 "Now, if you'll excuse us," started Naraku as he took up position behind the monstrosity, "I need some privacy while I provide...raw materials for mah baby factory," said Naraku with an evil grin. 

 Glitter Beard beat a hasty retreat.

 revang08/14/2019

Unfortunately for Naraku, a few days later he found that such a monstrosity was truly too much of an abomination to produce any kind of viable offspring. They came out looking kind of like the white blobs of flesh he had experimented with in Mt Hakurei, and were similarly inert, being nearly lifeless. 

This simply would not do. It seemed he truly would need to do this the old-fashioned way.

“Murakumo, come here,” he called quietly through the shoji.

A moment later his sparkly incarnation appeared, jangling what seemed to be keys on a chain before the amused child on his hip. “Yes Daddy dearest? Well, it’s Granddaddy dearest now, isn’t it?”

Struggling not to roll his eyes, Naraku asked, “Just where did you find a partner for the making of this powerful ‘old-fashioned’ offspring?” 

“Oh, don’t you know? That fabulous dog lady is hosting a big mating party up at her glamorous sky palace! Anybody who’s anybody is attending! Once Shimagitsuo and Kitsuumako are a few days older I’m totally going back up there. I wonder where the after-parties will be...”

 Walter20508/14/2019

While using his patented 'Miasma Away' to get rid of his latest failed experiment, a plan was already forming in Naraku's head as to how he would take advantage of his party. Anybody being anybody means there would be a lot of powerful entities in attendance, beings that might give him much trouble in he blew in all 'I kill you now' evil-like. This level of subtlety would be such that he couldn't even fall back on his old white baboon pelt. 

 No, this would likely require possession of another creature. Various candidates flashed through his mind and memory before he settled on one creature in particular that would be perfect.

 Later, Jaken returned to the Sky Castle, entering the Sealed Chambers. Entering her bedroom after gaining permission, Jaken bowed low. 

 "My Lady, my apologies for thy's actions a week and a half ago, but Lord Jaken has returned your long lost items to you and to make amends," groveled Jaken in a sincere sounding tone of voice. 

 Kagome, who was now only half awake after having her new afternoon nap habit interrupted, replied with a yawning "Fine, you may leave them by my bedside and all is forgiven, go back to Sesshomaru," before she rolled over. 

 Doing as she commanded, Jaken laid the satchel by her bed, but then brought up his staff of two heads and pointed it at Kagome, who had her back turned. The mouth opened but instead of issuing flames, miasma spewed out instead, causing Kagome to choke and cough, briefly rising and turning her head to look at him in shock before collapsing, unconscious onto her back on the bed. 

 Gingerly Naraku as Jaken climbed into the bed and examined the miko in detail. He couldn't very well bust out of this form for Sesshomaru would immediately detect his presence. Sigh as he might, he would have to do the deed using the toad as an intermediary between the two of them. Naraku set about removing the miko's clothes, before the door suddenly opened again.

 Stormie Like Weather08/15/2019

Sango rarely​ allowed herself to relax and hang loose, so when she gave into thier current predicament, Miroku felt very lucky indeed. "W-wait, Mir-Miroku!" She giggled as his mouth moved along the line of her neck while his hands explored much more than just her firm bottom Her kimono was falling off her shoulders. Her Slayer uniform was mostly unzipped. They drunkenly stumbled through the halls, "There's got to be a b-bed roo-m around here somewhere!" She tried to open what looked like a door, but ended up being another wall. "Here," Miroku muttered against her pulse as he kicked open a door. "Finally" Sango shouted mid-moan. His hands continued to move over her clothes, trying to remove them but too inebriated to make it very far. She turned in his arms, catching kisses that made her heart beat faster. He walked her backward as they made out. Crashing on top of the futon, a loud screeching sound sobered them up. Sango immediately leaky off the bed, spun around in her full and perfect uniform with her weapon raised at the disgusting toad. There was something off about him. A soft groan and fingers reached out from the covers. "Kagome!" Miroku's staff clinked as he pointed it at the abomination, "I'd recognize the stench of your aura anywhere, Naraku!"

 Walter20508/15/2019

“Naraku? No I’m Jaken, Jaken!” protested Naraku as he held up the Staff of Two Heads for proof. A quick spritz of Miasma laid out the two drunks, before he added another whiff to silence the stirring Kagome. He started to resume his march on Kagome before realizing that he could cause the group so much more suffering by impregnating Sango first. He had just gotten himself naked and Sango topless when Inukimi walked into the still open doorway. “Come along you two drunkards, I won’t have you interrupting Kagome’s....” her voice trailed off as she took in the scene. She and the staff equipped naked Jaken just stared at each other. Stared, stared, and stared, until both of their left eyes stared twitching, when one of them finally made a move.

[cecilspeaks]

131 - Brought to You by Kellogg’s

Today as all days, As every day of your life, Has been brought to you by Kellogg’s. Are you worthy? Welcome to Night Vale.

Hello, listeners. Well, we’ve been having some real budget troubles here at the station, so it does seem that today’s entire broadcast will be a sponsorship message from Kellogg’s. I know that feels like a lot, but it was the only way to keep the station up and running.

Station Management consumes three tons of soil from Paris each month! And it has been massively expensive digging it up and shipping it here. Not to mention all the bribes needed for government officials. All to say that Kellogg’s has agreed to pay for um, uh, let me check, OK. One month of soil shipments in exchange for us exclusively talking about them for the next three years.

Uh. OK. Well that doesn’t sound like the best bargain, but I’ll consult the station’s legal advisor and see if we can get out of that.

Oh, our legal advisor is Laura, who is a server down at the Moonlite All-Nite Diner. Between shifts, she likes to read Wikipedia pages about, mm, law stuff, so we often go to her for her expert opinion. In the meantime, probably best for me to just do what the contract says. This explanation brought to you, of course – by Kellogg’s.

Let’s get to the news. John Peters – you know, the farmer – said that some folks came to his farm. They said they were from Kellogg’s. Said they heard that he grew the finest imaginary corn in the state. Said they were thinking of getting into imaginary Corn Flakes, and that they wanted to buy up his entire crop. He told them that he already had a deal with Flakey-O’s, a good local cereal company, and that he couldn’t go back on his word. One of the folks from Kellogg’s squinted up at the sun, then spit on the ground through tight lips. “Oh,” that person said. “Iii wouldn’t worry about Flakey-O’s.”

To be honest, listeners, I’m now worried about Flakey-O’s.

And now the Community Calendar. This evening is the monthly school board meeting. Topics covered will include updating text books to contain words, rather than runes and diagrams of ritual dances. Hiring a new vice principal after that whole endless cave of suffering mess a few weeks ago, and replacing all food in the cafeteria with cereal. Scientists from the Kellogg’s Institute say that most food has no nutritional value at all. Oh, wow. I did not know that. And that only cereal contains all the protein, vitamins and corn that a body needs to live. Yeah, that seems right.

Thursday, the Boy Scouts are holding their summer bake sale. They will have bowls of cereal and nothing else. The cereal is not available to you. You are available to the cereal.

Friday is now called Kellogg’s day. Mentioning the outdated name for Kellogg’s Day will result in severe fines and disappearances.

OK, I’m actually getting some sort of urgent text from Carlos. Hm. He says that something I’ve said recently is not scientifically accurate, but you know, I don’t have to check what. Kellogg’s isn’t paying me to text. Or maybe they are. You know, it’s not clear what Kellogg’s wants from us.

Saturday morning is the summer softball league’s weekly game, pitting Steve Carlsberg’s Happy Hyeenas against Susan Willman’s Garbage Dump Team. That’s  not the actual name of the team, but it should be. Ugh, Susan Willman! Kellogg’s will be sponsoring the game by replacing the softballs with fistfuls of Apple Jacks and sending employees to hurl boxes of cereal at players.

Sunday afternoon in Grove Park, Sarah Sultan will be offering free meditation classes. Sarah is, of course, a fist-sized river rock, and so is extraordinarily good at staying still and silent. And she wants to pass these skills onto you. Kellogg’s will place a six-inch deep layer of Special K over the entire park, for reasons that are their own.

The Night Vale Metereological Society has issued an extreme heat watch for Monday, saying, “Hey, it’s a desert. In August. It’s probably going to be hot as heck on Monday, and all other days.” Kellogg’s suggests using the sun to cook up some Rice Krispie treats by building a simple solar energy panel and using that to power an electric oven.

And please, set aside all of Tuesday, as Kellogg’s has indicated that they have use for us, all of us, on Tuesday. And then Kellogg’s made this hollow dry laugh that sounded like it came from a long dormant stone well.

This has been the Community Calendar.

In other news, Flakey-O’s executives announced that they are going to stand strong against this current Kellogg’s encroachment. “We are citizens of Night Vale,” said Flakey-O’s chief executive, Leopold Tuesdale. “We’ve been through a lot of terrifying stuff. It’s a real weird town. We’re not afraid of a competing cereal company.” Then he yelped, as the closet in his office opened and the folks from Kellogg’s came out. One of them squinted up at the sun, then spit on the office floor through lips. “I wouldn’t worry about Flakey-O’s,” the person said. And then the Kellogg’s group left the office while Leopold sputtered about how they got in, and why anybody would ever spit on another person’s floor.

Next up, we have traff- oh, oop, nope, OK. Um, [clears throat] I’m being told that traffic has been replaced today by our new segment.

Listeners, I’m… pleased to bring you Common Kellogg’s Questions, in which you ask questions and I answer them, with off the cuff answers that are not written down for me on these carefully scripted cards.

Question number one: How much is too much cereal? My off-hand answer: How much is too much life? How much is too much love? Would you deny yourself blood in your veins? Would you deny yourself dreams in your evenings? There is not too much. There is only ever the deposit and the longing.

OK, question number two: Sometimes it seems my cereal boxes are watching me. I don’t know how else to describe, they-they don’t have eyes or anything, and they’re just sitting there, but it feels like they’re watching me. Just improvising here, but: Certain measures are taken for your own good. Don’t worry about it. it’s fine.

And question number three: Is this coupon for Frosted Mini Wheats still usable? I’ve had it since, like, 2007 but it doesn’t have a date on it. Is it still good? In answer to your questions and for your extemporaneous listening pleasure: Here are ten seconds of a person eating cereal, recorded really really close to their mouth. [crunching noises]

This has been Common Kellogg’s Questions.

Hey, let’s just keep this going. [clears throat] Health tips. Did you know that Corn Flakes cure most cancers? The reason you didn’t know that is that it isn’t true. But we have made a person on the radio say it to you, and now you will remember that he said it and forget that he said it wasn’t true. Because our minds are fallible and easily manipulated. Okey, this is just insulting. Do I really have to… [whispering] Station Management is not happy about my endangering their soil shipment, so let’s just keep moving.

Flakey-O’s chief executive Leopod Tuesdale has vanished under mysterious circumstances. A white van with a Kellogg’s logo pulled up to him as he walked to his car, and a group of people hustled him into a burlap sack and the burlap sack into the van. One of the people stopped to squint up at the sun and then spit on the ground through tight lips, before jumping in and the van roaring off. So I am being ordered by our current sponsors to report that nothing is know about Leopold’s disappearance and there are no clues indicating what happened. You know, probably he just got scared about the quality of his competitors’ products and fled. Happens all the time! All the time, Kellogg’s has asked me to repeat.

Now, let’s see what kind of weather Kellogg’s has deigned to give you.

[“Standard Deviation” by Danny Schmidt]

[booming noise] In the beginning, there was nothing. There was not nonexistent or existent. There was no realm of air, no sky beyond it. What covered in and where, and what gave shelter? Was water there unfathomed, depth of water? Darkness was upon the face of the deep, death was not then, nor was there (ought) immortal.

Then, there was Kellogg’s. Nothing became something. Kellogg’s spread and formed. Kellogg’s became the planets and the stars. Kellogg’s gathered into long strands to become the arms of galaxies, an infinity of Kellogg’s. Space made tangible out of the empty. Kellogg’s became soil and water, it became trees and it became birds, and it learned to sing and it learned to speak.

The first man rose and found the first woman waiting for him, and her name was Kellogg’s, and his name was Kellogg’s, and they shouted in horror at their own mortal forms.

Later, there were cities and before that, there were communities. And it all came from Kellogg’s and was of Kellogg’s and belonged to Kellogg’s. The people knelt and they gave a joyful thanks for their own creation, but Kellogg’s could not hear. It was a heaving dumb creature and it created out of a natural impulse, like how humans bleed, like how birds bleed, like how trees bleed. It did not create out of benevolence. Kellogg’s is not benevolent. It is not evil, either. It is a stone. It is a star. It is every empty distance between the stones ad the stars. It is not capable of morality. It. Is. Kellogg’s. It is – forever.

Once, long ago, the first king looked out over the first kingdom. It was not a very big kingdom, but then, there weren’t a lot of people at that time. Great empires would come later, but at that moment, the world was very small, a stretch of grassland near water. And the person who held that grass land was the king. And the grassland became a kingdom. There were titles given and borders erected. The king felt that he had created something great here, that his name would ring out forever. No one knows his name now. Even 100 years after his death, it was forgotten. The only name that rings out forever – is Kellogg’s.

Once, there was a farmer who lived at the edge of a forest, and she worked her fields. She would look at the forest with longing, because it seemed to her that her life was built only of routines and chores, and that these were the walls that boxed her in. And that by monopolizing her days, these routines were killing her. They were killing her in the sense that they were taking her entire life away from her, and she felt that if she ever got the nerve, one Kellogg’s day evening, she would run into the forest. Maybe it would be scary in there, probably dangerous. She would be less comfortable than she was on the farm, but she would also be truly herself. It was all waiting for her in the forest. She never ran into it. Later, she died while working one of her fields. This story doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters – is Kellogg’s.

Years from now, the universe will disperse. The stars will dim, running out of the energy imbued to them when it all exploded. Planets will become cold rock and molecules will stop forming, and atoms will stop vibrating and it will be still. It will be still forever. Or at least until the next thing. And nothing from this thing will ever see the next thing. [whispers, inaudible] Kellogg’s will watch the universe (-) to (fire) and will help it lay itself to rest. [quietly] And Kellogg’s will wait in the darkness. Will wait as long as it needs to. Forever, or what a human would perceive as forever. Maybe it will wait for ten times as long as this universe ever existed, but eventually, it will stir. There will be water there, unfathomed depth of water. Darkness will be upon the face of the deep, and it will all start anew.

There is a town, and that town is called Night Vale. It exists on a plane in a desert surrounded by the Scrub Lands and the Sand Wastes. Above us are lights that flit about. When they (peer), we (peer) back, wonderingly. We are simple, and we love each other, and we conceal secrets and we hold multitudes, and in this way we are like anyone. We live lives that are rich with meaning and awe. Or we live lives that are heavy with torment and worry, or we live lives that pass by like a Wednesday afternoon and we reach the end and say, “oh my God, was that it?” And it was.

We are a community. Like the king, we have made the world smaller, and in claiming this tiny corner as our entire world, we have created a kingdom. Like the farmer, we eye the forest and contemplate what could be out there if we ever left, if we ever went. But few of us do. And like the universe, we are brought to us – by Kellogg’s. We belong to Kellogg’s, and we are made of Kellogg’s. We cannot understand Kellogg’s, and that may be because the mystery is too complex. Or, it may be because it is as simple as a monolith, and truly there is nothing to understand.

Flakey-O’s is no more. The company has been bought out, with no management left to resist the hostile takeover. It is now a research wing of Kellogg’s, designed to test out a concept that Kellogg’s says they have just invented all on their own. Which is a line of cereal meant for night time only. The new head of this division squinted up at the sun, then spit on their own office floor through tight lips before saying, “Ii wouldn’t worry about Flakey-O’s.”

That’s it for our sponsored show.

Remember: today has been brought to you – by Kellogg’s. And Kellogg’s can take today away.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: Keep your eye on the ball. Keep your lungs on the court. Leave your stomach in the locker room.

[blatherkatt]

Title: The Calm Is Terrifying When The Storm Is All You Know [Homestuck]

Chapter 31: Light 

Summary: There were two kinds of trolls who went to Earth: rich shitheads with too much money and free time, and desperate assholes who couldn’t survive on Alternia, even with the best efforts of the young Condesce. Karkat hated the planet almost immediately, but with his home planet too dangerous for mutants, he really didn’t have any choice but to hide out on this weird little diurnal planet. At least he’d be safe. Or so he thought, right before blundering his way into an accidental friendship with the son of an anti-troll terrorist.

Rating: M

Chapter Warnings: Injuries and blood (including in illustrations), near death experience, suicidal imagery (**the character’s not actually suicidal i promise its just the imagery of the scene could read that way), mentioned alcohol abuse, mentioned physical abuse, some minor medical talk; Illustrated

Author’s note: chapter is named after the song Light by Sleeping At Last which u can access by clicking that link, but for best effect u should wait to do that until you’re at the final scene/the part that starts with “Climbing out of sleep” and then just like. listen to it on repeat for the rest of the scene 

also wow thanks tumblr for killing the color quality on the pics from the dream jfC whys it so brown its supposed to be way orangeyer 

FIRST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

They were in a safehouse, evidently. One chosen by Terezi, who was going to want to know how exactly Rose and Rachel had gotten to the scene before she did, just as soon as she returned from chasing down Derek and dealing with on-sight investigation. That was going to be an interesting conversation, certainly. Explaining that a bird had shown them the way was going to be difficult, especially with the crow now nowhere to be seen.

And yet, Rose still found that she’d prefer to be in the midst of that uncomfortable conversation right now, rather than where she currently sat: on a chair outside the room Dave had been rushed into, next to her mother. The door muffled most sound, but she could make out the beeping of a heart monitor and sometimes catch what two doctors tending to Dave were saying. The heart monitor was worryingly unsteady, and what little she could make out of the doctors’ words did not help soothe her anxiety any.

Dirk was in some other room, being treated for a broken leg, a days-old concussion, and general exhaustion. He’d apparently passed out shortly after they all arrived here. Dave had been unconscious even before then.

Probably the most frustrating piece of all of this was how, now, after they’d finally been able to do something, they were right back to being helpless.

Desperate for some conversation, something to pass the time as they waited for something to happen — it had been over an hour, now, just sitting out here, waiting — she tugged the first loose thread she could find in her memory and dragged it into the open.

“So. Ravens, huh?”

Mom snorted. “You’re waiting until now to ask about that?”

“I was focused on other things on the way over, in my defense,” said Rose, “But, really, you can’t just leave something like that in front of me and not expect to clarify. What did you mean when you said that Aunt Ramona usually uses ravens? You hardly seemed surprised at all that our guide wasn’t human, and you responded so cryptically. Please, mother, the curiosity is killing me.”

“Ha. Okay, you’ll have to forgive me a little, I’m really not sure of the specifics,” Mom sighed, rubbing a hand over her eyes, “But my understanding is that a part of the family magic is that…you just. Get to be friends with a particular kind of bird. Our mom could get those little, uh, sparrows? Finches? Y’know, the little brown birds you see everywhere, she’d just hold a hand out at one and it’d come land on her finger. We had an uncle who could not get seagulls to leave him alone ever. And Ramona has ravens.”

“Really?” Rose said, perking up a little. It was an interesting topic, albeit one she felt a bit bitter at not learning about before now, but it also made for an excellent distraction from the worrying sounds coming from behind the door.

“Yeah. She actually used them as scouts during the invasion, too,” Mom said, sinking back in her chair. “I dunno how exactly, but she’d call one down, whisper at it, and then it’d…fly off and she’d go real still and quiet for a while, and then it’d come back and she’d just. Know shit.”

“So what kind of bird do you have?” Rose asked.

“The family magic skipped me altogether, honey,” she said, “I don’t have any.”

Rose looked down. “And I suppose if I had some, I’d already know, wouldn’t I? You said before that her powers started kicking in when she was thirteen.”

“Maybe,” Rachel shrugged. “But I mean, you might be a late bloomer. Who knows.”

Conversation fell away again for a moment. The sounds from the room behind them were getting really worrying.

“Dave mentioned at one point that he gets harassed by crows a lot,” Rose said, desperate to break up the silence. “Does that sound like the family magic?”

Rachel laughed. “Oh, God, I bet that’s exactly what it is, poor baby.”

“There was a particular crow he described that perfectly matched the description of the one we followed,” Rose said, “Which is why I��”

—The unsteady, frantic bleeping of the heart monitor had turned into one long, cruel note. Her breath caught in her throat, and something in her chest turned to ice, burning with cold.

(He…wasn’t sure how long he’d been here. Or exactly where ‘here’ was. It felt kind of like he had just suddenly appeared here, and also at the same time like he’d just always been here.

‘Here’ was…probably Texas. He wasn’t sure what city. It was quieter than any city he remembered being in, but he didn’t know of anywhere else with such oppressively hot, heavy air choked with smoke. The world was dyed shades of orange and red and white, distant buildings seeming to shimmer, dissolving and reforming themselves like a mirage or a hologram projected onto smoke. The building he was standing on seemed only marginally more solid. Sure, he was standing on it, but thick clouds of dust or smoke constantly floated off of it. It felt like the heat was causing everything to boil, almost.

Still, it was…kind of eerie. The place should have been full of sounds. Distant cars, maybe a siren or two, some guy below swearing at someone for cutting him off, but…nothing. It was completely silent. Nothing seemed like it was moving, except for the smoke, and even that was so slow it barely seemed to move at all.

Something, he wasn’t sure what, drew him to the edge. Peering over the side of the building, he looked down. He couldn’t see the ground. Just a whole lot of a strange, dark mist. It looked…cool, and inviting, almost seeming to whisper promises of rest, and…

God, he was so tired. Exhaustion was weighing on him, dragging him down, making the call of that mist below all the more tempting. He just wanted to rest, please, fuck, he couldn’t even remember what he’d been doing before but he was so tired…

Easy there, Junior, there’s no coming back if y’go that way.

There was the sound of fluttering wings. Dave heaved a sigh, even before turning around. “Of course,” he said, “Of fucking course the king of brainless feathery assholes is here. Can’t ever fucking escape for a Goddamn moment, can I. Nope, only living being for miles besides me is this motherfucker.”

I mean, “living” might be stretchin’ it just a bit, all things considered.

That…hm. He’d thought these were his own thoughts, but…He turned his head. There was another part of the building he was on that stood out a lot higher, and there he was, perched with his legs hanging over the edge, looking down at Dave with a relaxed if sorta sad smile.

Seriously though, he said, and if Dave wasn’t watching the guy’s mouth move, he’d have thought the words were coming from his own head — they weren’t sound, exactly, the kid’s mouth just moved and words seemed to appear — you should step away from there. I know shit’s tempting, but trust me, if you go down there, you’re gonna be stuck looking like that forever. I mean, look at me. I never even got my fuckin’ shoe back. He gestured angrily at his feet, one of which was indeed in only a sock. It’s fuckin’ bullshit. And, uh, no offense, but you look like shit, Junior, you really don’t wanna get stuck lookin’ like that for eternity.

Dave glanced back down at the mist, then back up at the kid. “I’m so tired,” he said.

I know, believe me, I remember that part. But ya gotta trust me here. You gotta keep fighting a little bit longer, okay? I didn’t have a fuckin’ chance, but you still do. If not for yourself, then for all the people waiting for you on the flipside, huh?

Sighing, Dave took his foot away from the ledge and backed up several steps, turning to face the kid before dropping down heavily onto his ass. Fine. If he couldn’t sleep yet, he was at least going to sit the fuck down.

There y’go, Junior. We got this.

“Aren’t you a little young to be calling me Junior?” Dave shot.

The kid jerked back with a snort of laughter. Motherfucker, it was my name first! Anyway, I’d be plenty older than you if I hadn’t, uh, y’know. He gestured at the ragged slashes torn through both layers of clothing on his chest. Point is, I can call you Junior all I damn well wanna, fuckin’ deal with it and respect your elders or whatever.

“Hah,” Dave huffed. He looked around. “So. Any idea where the fuck we are?”

It’s not really a ‘where,’ exactly? It’s like…A border, I guess? I mean, that’s what I think it is, yours looks super different from what mine looked like. And also because this shit doesn’t come with any fucking explanation, honestly, so I have no idea if I’m right or wrong about any of this, but I think it’s like…a crossroads, sorta, between being alive and being dead.

Dave blinked.

“Oh.”

Shit, yours would be buildings, though, wouldn’t it? Kinda predictable, there, Junior.

“I’m dying.”

The kid winced. I mean, you might be, he said, rubbing his hand underneath the backwards rim of his hat. Like, your heart’s definitely stopped right now, but there’s actually a nonzero chance of you pulling through.

“And…why’re you here, then?”

He grinned. Well, for starters, I’m not gonna pass up what might be my only chance of finally getting to talk to ya without you thinkin’ I’m your own fuckin’ brain. God, do you have any idea how fuckin’ boring it is to pass seventeen years with no one able to hear you? Except Ramona, apparently, but I literally found out she could hear and see me, like, today, and thank fuck because she’s the entire reason I was able to get Ray’s help to save your ass. But, uh, also, I’m stalling.

Dave tilted his head. “Stallin’ for what?”

For the doctors tryin’ get your heart goin�� again. Like, I’m pretty sure time moves way the fuck faster in here than it does outside, and this whole conversation’s happened over the course of about a minute or so out in real time, but, still. Y’know. Tell you not to go into the light, except in this case it’s some sorta weird smokey shit, but, same difference. Give ‘em time to fuckin’ bring you back around so you’re not stuck lookin’ like you picked a fight with five flamethrowers and a steamroller for the rest of your fuckin’ existence.

Pulling a face, he plucked at his shirt. Yeah, this shit was beyond ruined, fuck, all black and brown and twisted up. “I really do look like shit, don’t I?”

Yeah, man, it’s pretty — A tremor rocked the building, abruptly. Both Dave and the ghost looked down.

Shit, said the kid, that can’t be good.

Another tremor, this one filling the air with the sounds of stone grinding and breaking. Cracks formed all along the building. Dave struggled to his feet, only to nearly lose his balance again as the stone beneath his feet began to crumble away and fall.

Fuck, Junior — hold on!

The earth was giving way beneath him, he was falling. Smoke and dust threatened to cloud his lungs.

The sound of flapping wings filled the air again, and a massive shadow fell over him, huge black feathers surrounding him as clawed feet reached out to catch him —)

Dave’s eyes shot open as he gasped for an agonizing breath. It was too bright in here, fuck, what the fuck was beeping, where was he, fuck, everything HURT —

“Easy there, son, easy, welcome back,” said a voice. Two hands, one on his shoulder and  one just below his ribs, pressed him gently back onto clean fabrics. His eyes tried to focus — two white clad figures were leaning over him, one a human woman, one a troll that was probably a guy. Doctors? Fuck, his side hurt, his throat hurt, his lungs were screaming, fuck.

“Try to stay with us, okay?” The human woman was saying. “Don’t try to talk, just try to stay conscious as long as you can. We’re gonna patch you up, maybe put you on a ventilator.”

—Hang in there, Junior, I dunno how many more of those either you or me has left in us.

There were tears running down his face. He didn’t even realize he was crying, but they were there. The doctors were back to talking to each other, frantically doing…something, sometimes they’d be touching him, he couldn’t…he was so tired………

Even as the beeping started up again, even as she heard one of the doctors say, “It’s alright, he’s just unconscious this time,” the frozen thing in Rose’s chest refused to thaw out.

“Oh, God,” Mom whispered, her voice hoarse. “Oh, God, they almost lost him.”

Sometime after three in the morning, one of the doctors came and quietly told Rachel that Dave was stable.

She and Rose had moved over to Dirk’s room, where he was sound asleep, poor thing. They’d gotten the gel outta his hair, at least, it looked like, and he didn’t have the makeshift bandage wrapped around his face anymore. Still stuck with a bit of a beard, though, which was bizarre to see and, knowing him, was probably pissing him off.

Rose was asleep, too, her head pillowed on her arms, leaned over onto Dirk’s bed. She had gone…real quiet after Dave had…

Had flatlined. She had to force herself to actually think the word. He’d flatlined. It’d only been a minute and a half — felt a lot fuckin’ longer — but he’d been gone for a moment there. This really was that bad.

Dirk, too, God, Derek had been standing over both of them, ready to fucking — to fucking skewer them both.

She didn’t want to think about it. Every instinct of the past ten, hell, the past seventeen years screamed at her to ignore it, put up the walls, reach for the booze she didn’t have on her for once and drown out the things she didn’t want to be real.  

But. Ignoring it was how she’d gotten into this mess, wasn’t it.

She’d pretended it hadn’t existed and drowned it all in alcohol and hadn’t seen that her kids fuckin’ needed her until they were dying.

“Ray, girl,” she said to herself, “You gotta get your shit together and do better.”

There was a blanket laid down on the end of the bed; she picked it up and draped it gently over Rose’s shoulders, kissed both her kids on the forehead, and headed down the hall to Dave’s room.

The doctor’d warned her he was still unconscious and on life support, but, God, seeing her baby passed out with a tube down his throat, hooked up to a gently bleeping machine and covered in bruises…

She didn’t let herself look away, though. Not anymore.

No more trying to live in a memory. She needed to be here now.

She pulled a chair up to his side. She couldn’t go back and take away all the hurt that’d been done, but at the very least, she could keep a vigil until morning, so that if, by some chance, he woke up, he wouldn’t be alone. In all likelihood, she wasn’t going to be able to sleep, anyway.

Well, they’d all somehow survived Dave’s insane escape plan, somehow (although Dirk hadn’t been able to see him just yet, and what he’d heard from a nurse had been…concerning), and yet, freshly showered with no small amount of effort, Dirk found himself faced with his hardest task yet: finally shaving off the fucking forest that had taken root on his damn face.

He glared down at his hands, pressed against the counter of the little bathroom he’d been guided into and to the plastic razor next to them, willing all three to fucking cooperate already. He hadn’t waited this long to finally get this shit off his face only for his nerves to stop him.

(They were particularly determined nerves, though. The nurse had said Dave was finally stabilized at three in the morning, how bad was he if it had taken that long…? That awful, broken scream kept ringing in his ears, over and over…)

He nearly jumped at a knock on the door. Rose’s voice came through; they’d both agreed to go in to see Dave together once they’d both eaten (already done) and gotten cleaned up (Rose had already finished that; Dirk had gone second since the new cast on his leg meant he was sort of doomed to take longer). “Are you alright in there?” she said. “I’ve already got one brother in need of intensive care. At this point, it’d be a cruel joke to wind up with two because you managed to slip and fall.”

“I’m already out of the shower and dressed,” Dirk said. “Just, uh, having a bit of a shaving malfunction.”

Rose tipped the door open (left unlocked on the doctors’ orders, just in case Dirk really had slipped and fallen) and glanced in. “What sort of malfunction?” she asked, a tired amusement twinkling in her eyes.

Dirk held up one of his hands so she could see how badly they were shaking. “Think my blood sugar might still be low,” he said. It…wasn’t entirely a lie. He and Dave hadn’t had much food the past four days, so that could certainly be a part of it.

Her face softened. “Do you need some help with that?” she asked.

Dirk sighed. God, it was embarrassing, but they’d be here all day if he tried to wait for his hands to stop shaking, so. “Yes please.”

It was awkward as hell, and needing help for something as simple as fucking shaving felt like one last insult on top of the hell that had been the past several days. But at the very least, it felt good to have his face back. He thanked Rose, thanked her again when she helped him up from where he’d been sitting and onto the crutches he’d been given.

They shared a look full of an unspoken, mutual apprehension before heading toward Dave’s room.

Mom, in a chair by the bed and looking exhausted, was talking with Terezi in hushed tones when they entered the room. Both girls looked up, and Terezi said something quietly to Mom before brushing past them both, granting them a sympathetic nod as she passed.

Dave had a blanket over most of him, tucked under his arms and pulled up to his chest. What little of him was visible beyond the blanket was a mess of wires, tubes, and bandages that made Dirk’s breath twist painfully in his throat.

Mom smiled, her eyes heavy and a little bloodshot. “The doctors said they don’t know when he’ll wake up,” she said, “But that he’s at least not technically in a coma or anything. Just really exhausted, poor bugger. Whole lotta years of not getting enough to eat combined with the shit you two’ve been through this past few days all caught up to him at once.”

Rose was silent as she drifted across the room to Dave’s side, opposite their mother. She pressed clenched fists against the mattress, focus fixed on her twin, although Dirk couldn’t see her eyes from here.

Dirk forced himself to look away, turned to Mom instead. “Did you sleep at all last night?” he asked.

“Uh-uh,” Mom said, shaking her head. “Couldn’t. Wanted to make sure Dave wasn’t alone, anyway, so it worked out.”

Dirk swallowed. “Well, he won’t be alone now, either,” he said. “Me and Rose can take turns watching him if Terezi needs to question us, and if not, we’ll just…both hang out in here, I guess. You should get some rest.”

“Probably,” Mom said. “Terezi’s not quite done talking to me, though, she’s just giving us some time alone. She made a lotta arrests last night, though, it sounds like. That dragon of hers got a buncha treats.”

“Good,” Dirk said, not trying to keep the contempt out of his voice. “I hope those bastards fucking rot. They were all nearly as bad as the old man.”

“Speaking of,” Mom said, “I’m pretty sure he got away.”

Rose stiffened.

“Figures,” Dirk muttered. “Really, though, Mom, we’re fine, you should finish up with Terezi and get some sleep.”

“You sure?” she said, glancing at Rose.

“We’re fine,” Rose said, her voice flat.

“…Alright, I can take a hint,” Mom said. “I’ll talk to you later, then.”

Silence hung over the room as she left. Tightening his hold on the crutches and forcing a deep breath, Dirk limped across to stand near where Mom had been, across from Rose. She hadn’t moved, but this close, Dirk could see that her arms were trembling.

Dave’s face, at least, didn’t look particularly troubled, if one were to look past the bruises and bandages.

Rose’s hands tightened on the sheets. Her voice was cold and calm, her face hidden to Dirk by her bangs as she stared down at her clenched fists. She spoke with a certainty that would have chilled Dirk to the bone had he not  been just as furious.

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” she said.

Unsure whether to reach out to comfort her, or if he should indeed respond at all, Dirk simply nodded.

The two settled in to wait, for however long it might take.

Dave didn’t wake up that day at all. Eventually, the doctors insisted that Dirk go to bed, as he needed to rest his concussion or some shit like that. Rose was watching over Dave alone when the machine Dave was hooked up to began screeching, and the doctors chased her out of the room. The commotion woke both Dirk and Mom, all three family members clustered worried around the door.

Not long after, one of the doctors came out and told them that Dave had briefly regained consciousness, for only a few minutes; he’d been desperate to speak, and panicked upon being unable to do so due to the breathing tube down his throat, so they’d taken him off the ventilator.  His breathing had been fine enough without it that they’d kept it off, in case he awoke again later and the same thing happened.

Apparently, he’d stayed conscious only long enough to ask if Dirk was alright, and had calmed and fallen back asleep as soon as he’d been told that he was okay.

Dirk felt his heart twist itself into knots at the news. Of course he did. Of course the first fucking thing he did was ask if Dirk was okay. Of course even after all this Dave still thought he was the one who had to protect Dirk.

God, he didn’t deserve his little brother.

No one got back to sleep.

Climbing out of sleep felt kinda like he’d imagined snow would feel like, except not as cold, just the parts about it being soft and fluffy and filling everything up around him. And, uh, climbing up out of actual snow that thick would probably have been terrifying, so there was that too, but this was just…a slow, lethargic crawl out of some sort of thick subconscious pool of…whatever.

The first thing he was sort of aware of was that someone was holding his hand. Not very tightly, and at a kind of awkward angle, but there was someone there. He hoped they were real. He really hoped he wasn’t dreaming anymore. His dreams had been of running through a thick, choking forest of branches that reached out to grab him and hold him back, hunted all the while by some terrible beast he never quite saw, but he somehow knew to be there; a creature too wild to be human, too cruel to be an animal, hungry and angry and relentless.

(Sometimes, he’d heard the distant beating of wings, as well, and somehow, he’d known them to be friendly, trying to lead him to safety. He’d never seen their owner, either.)

The nightmares already were starting to fade out of mind, though; and he dearly hoped this wasn’t another one. Trying to move his fingers at all was a fight and a half, like someone had dumped the pathways between them and his brain full of fuckin’ molasses or something. At first, he could only get them to twitch a bit, but with a bit of an effort, he managed to curl his hand around the other.

The owner was moving, now, suddenly frantic; he tried to stop them, but the hand slipped away. Sound was starting to come back, distant, as if through a thick, impenetrable fog; some strange high pitched  repetitive noise and a lower sound that might be someone speaking. A new hand wrapped around his, their thumb dragging across his knuckles.

It took a bunch of false starts to get his eyes open, sound leaking in more and more strongly — that beeping was fucking annoying, Jesus — and, shit, did he regret getting them open even a little almost immediately. Fuck, it was bright in here. Once he managed to get them like, halfway open, though, a darker shape slowly resolved into a human being — their silhouette was unfamiliar, but something about the face was familiar.

“Hey,” said the guy, an actual word finally managing to filter through the haze, as did the realization as to who was talking. Dirk. It was Dirk, but minus that fuckin’ beard he’d complained so much about, and with his hair down, pulled into a loose bob behind his neck. Dirk was here. Okay. That was either really good, or really bad, probably.

It took even more effort (was there…something around his neck? What the fuck), but he managed to look around a bit, get some stock of their surroundings. Not, like sitting up or anything, he wasn’t sure he wanted to give that a shot just yet, but he could move his eyes around.

“Where t’fuck are we?” he said. His voice was fuckin’ awful, Christ, all strained and quiet and a little bit wheezy. He was breathing fine, at least, but, shit.

“Safehouse,” said Dirk.

Like…like a police safehouse? “We’re alive?” Dave asked, just to make sure, because boy, was he not sure of that one. He felt….like the ghost of pain, like he should’ve been hurting all over, but something was keeping it just barely at bay. “We made it?”

Dirk’s worried smile turned more gentle. “We made it. Your plan worked, Dave, you got us both out of there alive.”

“Fuckin’ sweet,” Dave said, because it was. Holy shit, it had worked.

“Rose went to go get Mom, she’ll be back — right now, actually, by the sound of it,” said Dirk, as the sound of rapid footsteps came  through from outside and the door swung open. Dave would’ve jumped if his body wasn’t currently made of cotton and overcooked spaghetti.

Rose about barreled in, her face probably the closest to actual honestly expressing real fuckin’ emotion besides anger that he’d ever seen. She nearly bowled Dirk over, he had to hobble over to the side and give up his grip on Dave’s hand (moving instead to let his hand rest on Dave’s shoulder). Mom came around the other side of the bed, careful not to disturb the IV tube Dave had just noticed was in his arm (hey there, how long had that been a thing), and pressed one hand against the side of his face.

“Hey, baby,” she cooed, eyes already threatening to fill with tears, “Welcome back.”

Alright. Enough of this laying around shit, he was gonna try and sit up and wake up all the way.

It didn’t work. He didn’t even make it up off the bed, and felt even more tired for his efforts. Like they were all part of one being, Dirk, Rose, and Mom all moved to press his chest down (not that it had gone up any) as Mom said, “Nonono, honey, don’t try to move. Hold on, there’s a doohickey here we can use to get you more upright…” She reached around for something, some sorta box, and pressed a button on it, and, oh, hey, the part of the bed his head was on was tilting up slowly, alright, cool. Dirk kept his hands out to steady Dave the entire time as it lifted up, only pulling away once the bed had stopped moving.

Soon as he did that, Rose stiffened up and surprised Dave by lunging forward, sweeping him into a careful hug around his neck. He felt himself go tense, fuck, it was like when Mom would surprise hug him back at home except it was Rose doing it? Mom got in on the action pretty quick, too, her hands wrapping gently around either side of his face, peppering the side of his head with kisses. For a moment, it was way too much, too overwhelming, and he flashed Dirk a nervous look, he couldn’t move to get away, fuck —

The fear faded pretty quickly, actually, though.

Mom was murmuring soft reassurances in Spanish, weaving them in between kisses. Rose was fucking weeping, he could hear it, she was doing it right in his ear. And that overwhelming wave of panic turned into something warm and soft and safe, and….Fuck it. He sank into it. It was too much, way too much, but it was so fucking nice to feel so fucking loved for a while.

Yeah. Yeah, that’s what it was.

Dirk rubbed gently at Dave’s shoulder, unable to get in on the hug from this angle, but it was plenty for now. Dave let himself lean into Mom, let one of his arms weakly wrap around Rose until she pulled away, trying to compose herself and saying something snarky about how Dave had “certainly taken his sweet time to wake up,” and as soon as she gave him the room, Dirk leaned in for a hug of his own, bumping his head gently against Dave’s, all while the barrage of kisses just kept fuckin’ going.

“We made it,” Dirk whispered, and Dave felt the last bit of tension he hadn’t known he’d been holding slip away.

[just-jordie-things]

Forbidden (part three) - Scott McCall

Two weeks, two more weeks anyways.  Two more weeks of sneaking out of camp to either go into town, or to the northside overlook to see Scott.  The fourteen days consisted of more.. well romantic things.  Hugging and cuddling, which you liked fine.  but kissing was like.. your new favorite thing.  And you did it whenever you possibly could.  Sometimes when Scott was talking mid sentence.

“What was that for?” Scott would ask, and you would just shrug.

“I dunno.  I felt like it?” And he would laugh, pulling you against him again for another kiss.

You were currently waiting in a booth at the old diner in town.  The one you’d first met Scott in, all those years ago.  You hadn’t met up here in a while, maybe a week, so you were kind of excited to see him here.  He’d told you yesterday that it was going to be a special occasion, so you’d tried to look presentable.

You snuck a bath in the lake, while no one was fishing, and deeply shampooed and conditioned your hair, then brushed out all of the tangles.  You used soap, which was hard to be sneaky about because soap around camp was treated like gold.  You even went through your mother’s things, and found eyeliner, mascara, and lipstick.  You had on your cleanest jeans, and a red tee shirt.  It was the nicest outfit you had

But you were overly anxious, maybe tonight was a date? Maybe the last two weeks were dates? What was so special about tonight? You were nervous because you didn’t want to disappoint, he seemed to know a lot about dating and relationships and things, and all you knew was what you saw from your parents.  Which was little to nothing, they weren’t exactly love struck teenagers anymore.  And it wasn’t like you could ask them, or anyone for advice really.  Because that would involve admitting that you had a secret werewolf boyfriend from the other camp that you’d been seeing for the past ten years. 

“y/n?” You heard the bell above the door ding-a-ling, and turned your head to see Scott enter.

“Scott” You grinned, and got up from the booth to walk over to him.

In walked to more people, and you quickly stepped backwards out of instinct.

A beautiful strawberry blonde girl with round green eyes, who had on jeans like you, and a yellow sweater top.  Her hair seemed soft... and curled? Next to her, holding her hand actually, was a much taller lanky pale boy, with a constellation of moles and freckles, and brown unkempt hair.

“No don’t freak out” Scott smiled at you, and tugged on your hand.  “y/n, this is Stiles and Lydia” He introduced.  “Stiles and Lydia, this is y/n” He looked back to you again.  “My girlfriend” You blushed at the title, and nodded to the two.

“I’ve um.. I’ve heard a lot about you guys” You said quietly.

“Oh we’ve heard plenty about you too” The boy, Stiles said.

“Yeah, Scott sure does like to drone about y/n this, y/n that” Lydia added, and you blushed deeper.

“I uh... I didn’t know anyone knew about me”

“Just these two” Scott said, and smiled big.  “That’s why the sorta know like.. a shit ton”

“Literally” Stiles mumbled, and Lydia nudged his ribs.  “Hey-”

“So I was thinking we could all spend tonight together” Scott told you, and Stiles stopped his rambling with Lydia.  “We could all get to know each other and just hang out?”

“I brought sandwiches” Stiles said, shrugging off his backpack and holding it up to show you.  “Also fruits but like-” He went on rambling again, something about grapes, but Scott had already started talking to you again.

“Is this okay?” He asked, and you nodded, smiling your sweet smile that made him swoon (more than you knew, and more than he cared to admit).  But Scott smiled a crooked smile back, and pecked your lips before tugging you back to the booth you were sitting at.  Stiles and Lydia followed, sliding in on one side, and you and Scot sat opposite them.

“I’ll get out the sandwiches!” Stiles said eagerly, and pulled out six plastic bags, each labeled with a different type of sandwich.  As well as a big Tupperware container of various fruits.  In which you saw strawberries, raspberries, sliced bananas apples and pears, and blueberries.

“I thought I heard you say something about grapes?” You said confusedly.

“Oh no” Lydia muttered.

“WELL” Stiles exaggerated.  “We would have grapes, in fact we did, plenty of beautiful and fresh picked, by me, round, plump, juicy, and rather delicious purple wine grapes” Stiles told you, and your eyebrows raised at the boy’s enthusiasm towards the fruit.  “BUT RED HERE” Stiles gave an accusatory look at Lydia, who rolled her eyes and gave you jazz hands with no pzazz.  “Tell them what you did Lyds.  Tell her.  This new girl you could’ve been friends with.  Tell her what you did.  She wanted grapes Lyds.  Tell her why there aren’t any grapes.  Go on.  We’re waiting” Lydia gave you a bored look, rolling her head to look at you.

“I ate them” She said, in the blandest, most non caring tone you’d ever heard.  It made you laugh.

“Stiles I didn’t know you were so passionate about grapes” Scott said, furrowing his brow.

“Me neither” Lydia sighed, and the three of you were giggling together.  Stiles was glaring at you.

“You’re on thin ice right now”

“And you’re on a grape shortage” You replied.  Stiles’ lips parted, and his eyes widened for a short moment.

“Wow, he hasn’t been at that loss of a word since I took my bra off three days ago” Lydia told you, and again, you girls burst into laughter.

“Scotty you’re girlfriend’s mean” Stiles mumbled, before stuffing his face full of sandwich.  “She really is a hunter”

“Stiles” Scott hissed, and Lydia smacked his shoulder.

“No it’s okay” You said shaking your head.  “I’m not actually really... my parents were I just... I don’t know I guess I was just raised by them” You shrugged.  You’d never really talked about that before, not even with Scott.  Not because you were ashamed, or anything like that.  It just never really came to mind.

“He’s not even a supernatural” Lydia said.

“You aren’t?”

“Nope.  Full human” Stiles said proudly, and you held up a hand to high five him, which he happily did.  “I don’t know how these two wanted to be friends with me, around that camp I’m pretty much a loser”

“Why?” You asked, suddenly very curious how the other camp worked.

“Well if you’re human, and not related in any way to a supernatural, then you’re sorta an outcast”

“If you don’t mind me asking, and don’t take this the wrong way but-”

“Why am I a human in an all supernatural camp?” You nodded a little.  “Well, before this whole, you know, apocalypse thing, My father married this one’s mom” Stiles said, pointing to Scott.

“Really?” You smiled between the boys.  “So you’re brothers basically?” Scott nodded.

“Yeppers” Scott said, and he intertwined his fingers with yours under the table.

“Anyways, Dad and Melissa wanted to stay together, which is great! Really!” You chuckled as he waved his hands around in the air.  “It’s just.. that links my Dad to the supernatural... but me... not so much” Scott shrugged his shoulders.

“But you’re pretty much my brother”

“And I’m your lover” Lydia said, shaking her shoulders, and wiggling her body closer to Stiles.

“You don’t seem like such a loser” You told Stiles, continuing to eat your dinner.

You spent a lot more of the night talking and joking, and you got really close with Lydia for sure.  You’d never really had a friend that was a girl before, so it was nice to have some estrogen around you for once.  The four of you ended up eating all of the food, which surprised you, because there was a lot.  Stiles threw a few more fits about grapes, and Scott’s hand never left yours.

After three hours, Stiles was holding up a barely awake Lydia, and you were all tucked into Scott’s side, his arm around your shoulders, and your hand intertwined with his still.

“Hey” Scott hummed to you, and you hummed back, too sleep to form real words.  “Let’s go on a walk to the woods” He said, and you smiled softly with a short nod.  You waved goodbye to Stiles, not wanting to speak and wake up Lydia.

Nice to meet you, the boy mouthed.

You too, you lipped back, and nodded your head to gesture to Lydia as well.  With that, you let Scott wrap his arm over your shoulders and walk you outside.  The abandoned city around you seemed cloudy.  Which was strange for it being so dark, but actually looked pretty.  You’d never really thought of the ruined suburbs could look pretty.  Even with loose papers drifting across cement cracked streets, and dirt covering nearly everything.

“What’re you thinking about?” Scott asked you, squeezing you slightly while you walked along the sidewalk.

“Everything and nothing” You mused, and he chuckled.

“Care to elaborate?” You smiled over at him.

“I’m not sure, I’m not... I’m not good with words like you are”

“Well then explain it as best you can, and then I’ll word it for you” He said, and you pulled out of his hold, trying to find the right way to tell him your thought process.

“Okay” You walked on the tips of your toes along the very edge of the sidewalk, arms barely having to stick out to balance yourself.  Being trained your whole life perfected your balance and coordination.  “I just think this place is prettier at night”

“See? you found the words it’s not that difficult” Scott assured you.  You walked back up next to him, a slight skip in your step as you were flat footed again.  You looked around in the dark, before smiling up at him.

“Wanna know a nice thought?” You asked, and he nodded, reciprocated your expression.

“Before all of this, if we were born just... just a few years earlier perhaps... we could be living up there” You pointed up at the big apartment building, and Scott’s smile turned to a crooked grin.

“You wanna live together?” He asked, lacing your fingers together, nearing the border of the city.

“Yeah, I mean, isn’t that what people who are... people like us do?” You asked, an innocent look on your features.  “My parents did, you said Stiles and Lydia do” You shrugged a shoulder, and Scott stayed quiet.  Your heart began to race and blood rushed to your cheeks.  Had you said something wrong again? Embarrassment clouded your mind.  “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m still getting used to-”

Scott cut you off, leaning down and softly capturing your lips in the most gentle kiss he’s ever given you.  You were sure that when he cupped your face he would feel how hot your skin was.

“No, no you didn’t say anything wrong, you said exactly the right thing” He assured, and you smiled at him.  “Someday, I promise you we’re gonna be able to live together”

“Really?” You asked, a hopeful glint in your eye.

Your mind wandered off to how amazing that would be.  A domestic life with Scott.  Waking up early in the mornings and gazing at his sleeping figure in front of you, before wiggling out of his arms to make breakfast.  He’d wake up a  little later, and would announce his presence in the kitchen by wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling his head onto your shoulder.  It would be warm, and sweet, a life with Scott.

“Really” He promised, and sealed it with a kiss to your forehead.

hey y’all just wanna let you know i’m really glad to be back in general and with this series.  this part is dedicated to my gal pal @skylars-little-world bc she loves scott and i know she was getting impatient ha

tagged: @morganschiebel

have a good night everyone *muah* xoxo ~ jordie

[sacrificas-a-blog]

PODCAST 002 // ELENA SANTIAGO

I remember the time where Lena disappeared quite clearly. There was a great spectacle of police, parents, neighbours, sensationalist reporters. They walked the desert trying to find her, the case got a lot of attention from the media though not necessarily the good kind. They scrutinized her life, her choices, every silly teenage mistake she ever made, if she drank if she didn't, if she had a sex life. I remember her mother crying on national television, calling them monsters, saying she just wanted to find her daughter. 

You see, what I haven’t told you is that I went to school with Lena. She was two years my senior so I can’t say we were friends, but this is a small town, and I sometimes hanged out with the older kids. They let me stay because the liked my scary stories, it was my bribe to them to join their tight knit group. They weren’t typical jocks and cheerleaders type, not outcasts either. They always gave me the impression of being the greatest friends, I remember envying them and wanting to be part of their secretive world, their closeness, their inner jokes and games. Though thinking back it might have been simply a child’s fascination with who I considered the cool kids. I had my first beer with them, right about the time my parents decided I shouldn't hang out with them any more.

Lena was— special. She was beautiful that was undeniable. I remember she had this long dark hair curly hair and very intense dark eyes, she looked intimidating. But seeing her with her friends--- she was just a normal girl, restless perhaps, always trying to prove something, to get something out of life by continuously challenging herself to fulfil this or that dare. She was the kind of person who would do something just to prove she could. I don’t know what she was trying to accomplish, perhaps she was troubled,perhaps she was just a normal teenager. Weren't we all troubled in our own ways when we were 15?

At the time, with all the media attention and the theories about alien abductions ad serial killers, her figure seemed almost mythical. Now, looking at her picture it simply looks sad. She was just a girl who disappeared, leaving behind a town torn apart.

I tried to remember something to share with you about her as some kind of homage perhaps. I wanted something real, apart from all the conspiracy theories, but my mind tends to get hazy and I’m not good at remembering stuff. But perhaps it’s impossible to do so. Even before her death she always felt mythical to me, unreachable, fascinating? She was that first crush you had as a kid, that near obsessive, cherish-all, blurry amazement that comes with it. 

I do remember something quite mundane. It was a sunny day and she and her friends were going on a "hike" near the canyon area ( which was code for drinking and swimming at the grotto ). It was a hot, unbearable summer day. She saw me and asked if she could borrow my cap for the day, and of course I gave it to her. It was my favourite black baseball cap that simply said Nirvana in yellow letters. She was actually kind enough to return it the next day, but I told her she could keep it, I knew she liked Nirvana too. I saw her wearing the cap a couple of other times that summer, though I eventually forgot I guess. I don’t remember what happened to it, she probably lost it like I lost so many caps. It was a nice feeling though, seeing her wearing that cap. It was as if we shared a secret. Though, in the end, she kept all the secrets for herself.

DIANA: Javi? Oh my goodness look at you.

JAVI: You--- remember me? Wow.

D: of course I remember you, don't be silly. Come on in sweetheart.

Lena mother has always been a very mom mom, kind of like my mother. The always worry to an extreme, always trying to feed you and insisting you take a sweater kind of mom. I had been to her house mostly for birthday parties, or pool parties. I was the awkward younger kid so, of course, the mom would take pity and ask me to help her with something. I didn't think she would remember me though.

She looked very much the same,always make-up and nice clothes even when she planned on staying at home. But she had a kind of lost look to her eyes now, it was subtle, but it was there.

D: So this is for the radio? Are you a journalist?

J: It's a podcast, kind of internet radio? I'm making a documentary on my dad's disappearance.

D: Of course, I'm so terribly sorry about that. Alejandro was a pillar for this community.

J: I guess? Thanks. I mean Thank you.

D: I'm afraid I don't know much about it though.

J: I was actually hoping to talk to you about Lena's disappearance if that's okay?

D: I--- I don't see how---

J: It's simply that my dad had her case--- reserved in a way. He was still looking into it by the time of his disappearance. He hadn't given up.

D: I didn't know. It's--- nice to hear it. He always did promise he would keep searching. You're a lot like him in a way.

J: Me?

D: I've kept track of your news on tv and the papers. And that story you wrote about the border? Absolutely heartbreaking.

J: I--- don't know what to say, thank you.

D: She always liked you, you know?

J: I’m sorry. Who?

D: Lena, she liked to hear your stories. She suffered from--- some issues. But I could always tell when she heard one of your stories, they seemed to soothe her, she had this--- fascinated look in her eyes. She never wanted to tell me the stories though, she said she wouldn't make them justice.

J: I--- really? They--- were just scary stories.

D: I'm not surprised, she liked the spooky things.

J: Yeah [laughs], me too

D: See?

J: Uhm--- when you said she had issues--- do you mind if I ask what kind of issues?

D: She was in treatment, psychiatrist, medicaments. There were a lot of night terrors and--- manic episodes. She felt as if there was something hunting her, sometimes she could barely sleep at night.

J: I had no idea.

D: None knew, my husband didn't want people to find out at first. And when she disappeared we didn't want people to stigmatize her any further. She was a sweet girl, but she was in a lot of pain.

J: You keep referring to her as was. Do you think she has---

D: I'm supposed to say I haven't given up hope. Right?. It's been twenty three years, I'm tired of waiting. We even had a funeral [emotionless laugh].

I showed Diana the names and pictures of the other missing persons but she didn't recognize any of them except from seeing some on the news. She offered then to show me Lena's room though I wasn't allowed to touch anything.

Diana might have said she was tired of waiting but Lena's room was untouched. I had never been there before but it looked as if it had been preserved the exact same way it looked when she stepped out of there in 1994. The teen magazines still on the desk, schoolbooks, the rock band posters, a museum to Elena Santiago. It was as if it were waiting for her to come back, a room stranded in time waiting for its girl with whom it probably shared the deepest secrets. It made me feel hollow, I remembered the deposit were we kept my dad's things, things we'll never use but we still pay rent for. It’s strange how we hold on to these objects, trying to capture whatever essence is left from another person. Whether its someone we lost, someone we miss, that childhood crush.

I was about to leave when I saw it, hanging from a chair. My old cap was there, a lot more worn out than I remembered it, but definitely the same Nirvana cap. I told Amanda what it was and she asked if I wanted it back. It didn't felt right, as if it was part of that shrine now. I told her she could keep it.

[katrinawritesthings]

Jonghyun/Taemin; Schrodinger’s Fairy; PG

a fic about executive dysfunction and also about whether or not taemin is a fairy

“Fresh air,” Jonghyun says blandly, trying to think up something good about being outside all day. Taemin chuckles softly, nodding.   

“Gotta get that photosynthesis,” they say, wiggling their fingers at the sun.

With a final nudge of his decorations box under the coffee table, Jonghyun is officially moved into his new apartment. He smiles at all of his simple things, his knockoff couch, his cheap shelf, his cute pink mini fridge in the kitchen, the unproportionally large and fancy tv that he won in a raffle last month. Nice. Next weekend Jinki is going to come over to help him put up his posters and curtains and all of the extra stuff and then it’ll be extra nice.

He wanders over to his big side window, licking his thumb and rubbing a smudge of dirt off of the glass. He loves the view he has of the city. Across the street is another apartment complex with a cute grassy garden area out front, and in the distance he can see where it turns from small suburbs to big skyscrapers, all lit up against the darkening sky. He loves being close without actually being in the middle of a big city.

He could push his window door open and have a sit out on his cute little balcony, but it’s kind of late. He doesn’t like being outside when it’s dark and scary. He’ll go in the morning, maybe, dust everything off and set up his big umbrella so he can try to enjoy being there without melting. For now, he just stares outside, taking in the last moments of the sunset to the right. A slight shimmer in the air makes him hum low in his throat.

That was definitely a magic shimmer. He’d seen them around when he was viewing this apartment, when he was exploring the surrounding area a little bit to see if he’d like to live here. Faint glimmers, slight sparkles, just the tiniest ripples of magic everywhere in the air. A person here or there that looked just a little bit ethereal. It’s nothing new; Jonghyun’s old town was bursting with magic, color everywhere and cheap illusions being sold on corner stores.

Compared to there, though, this place seems so... subtle. Jonghyun isn’t used to magic that isn’t bursting out at him. The realtors said that this town had a pretty average ratio of magic to mundane, but it just… feels different from everywhere else Jonghyun has been. He can’t put his finger on it. It’s like the magic here is soft and whispered, easygoing, mellow, smooth, just a hint that he can barely catch on to. He’s pretty sure that the only reason he did notice it is because he’s so used to magic already that he recognizes the signs.

When the streetlamps outside turn on is when Jonghyun finally steps away from his window. He’s kind of hungry. He thinks he’s gonna make a quick snack and then head to bed, and leave the pondering about the quiet magic of this town for his dreams.

~

The next morning, he has a quick cereal breakfast and blends himself a smoothie to take outside with him. It shouldn’t be too difficult, he thinks, to clean up the balcony out there. A little sweeping, a little scrubbing maybe, a little fiddling with his big umbrella to get it to stay in a good spot. No big deal. As long as he doesn’t sweep anything off onto someone walking on the sidewalk below.

He sets his smoothie down on the railing, leans his umbrella against the wall, picks up his broom, and then jumps when he realizes he’s being watched from the next balcony.

“Oh,” he says loudly, and then “oh” again, softer, breathed out in a soft chuckle. “Hi,” he tells the person sitting outside, clinging to his broom with both hands just to have them doing something.

“Hey,” his right side neighbor says, looking just as amused at Jonghyun being startled as anyone would be. They’re pretty: long bright red hair, soft face, warm brown eyes, a golden tan. The lounge chair under them looks like it’s nothing but pillows and the laptop in their lap has cute flower stickers around the border, and their balcony railing is full of vines and leaves. The same slight shimmers of magic that Jonghyun has seen around the rest of the city also hang around those plants. “I’m Taemin,” his neighbor says, drawing his attention back to them with a little wave. “They or he. Pronouns, I mean. You can use them interchangeably.” They shrug and Jonghyun blinks, then nods. Oh. Good. He always likes not having to detective someone’s pronouns out of them.

“I’m Jonghyun,” he says, smiling a little wider as his name leaves his lips. “Just he,” he adds. Sometimes none, but those days are usually days where he’s wallowing in self-pity, so. He doesn’t think Taemin needs to know about that. Taemin nods back easily and rubs his thumb over the spacebar of his laptop.

“You’re the new neighbor?” They ask. “I meant to go say hi to you yesterday, but then I kind of just. Didn’t.” They shrug like it couldn’t be helped and Jonghyun shrugs back. He feels that.

“Yeah,” he says. “This place is really cute.” He gestures around their balconies, at the street down below. “I like it,” he says. Taemin glances out as well and turns back with a smile.

“Same,” he says. He taps his thumb on his keyboard slowly; there’s something almost ethereal and exceptionally gorgeous about his smile, but that might just be because Jonghyun is weak for a pretty face. Looking passed Taemin’s beauty, he can see that their smile is kind of forced. He grins himself at it. Low spoons. Alright then.

“Anyway,” he says, tapping his broom on the floor. “I’m gonna get back to cleaning up.” He’ll back out of the conversation before the awkward silence so Taemin’s introverted ass doesn’t have to do it themself. This time Taemin’s smile is largely relief and they give Jonghyun a little finger pistol before turning back to their laptop. Jonghyun sets back to his work, glancing up at him only a few times as he does so. He likes them already.

~

The sun is garbage, honestly. Well, no. Just during summer, and near the end of spring when it starts getting ready for summer. Jonghyun sighs as he lies on his stomach on his couch, staring listlessly out of his side window. His second week in this apartment and already his seasonal depression is making him too tired to want to go outside. It’s so… hot out there. Hot and warm and gross. It’s barely even ten. He wants autumn to happen already so he can be chilly and peppy and happy.

A gentle breeze rustles the big umbrella he fixed up yesterday and he sighs, pushing himself up with weak arms. He needs to go out there. Needs that vitamin D before he gets all pale and faint again like he spent the passed three years dealing with. Twenty minutes a day in the sun, three times a day, doctor’s orders. No more ignoring it. He can do that. A couple videos on his laptop and he’ll be back inside before he knows it. He’ll have to go out again twice later during the day, but whatever. He’ll deal with that when it happens. He wants to start fresh with everything in his new place, and that includes half melting in the sun like a sad little lump.

Squeezing himself through the sliding glass door with his laptop and water bottle in his arms, the first thing that he notices is that Taemin is already out on his own balcony. He smiles at them when he settles himself in his little foldout chair, balancing his laptop in his lap and kind of just putting his water bottle on the floor. He needs a little table or something.

“Morning,” he says as he waits for his laptop to start up.

“Hi,” Taemin says back, and then “um,” which keeps Jonghyun from looking back to his laptop. He tilts his head in question instead, waiting for Taemin to follow up with that. “Uh, one sec,” Taemin says. They hold up a finger and lift their laptop to a stool in front of him. “I got you something,” he mumbles, leaning over the side of his chair. Jonghyun blinks.

“Really?” he asks, even as Taemin picks something up from the ground and sits back up straight with a noise of effort.

“Yeah,” they say, holding it up with a bright smile. It’s two things; two little flowerpots. One has small bunches of very light purple flowers and the other has three big pink flowers, and Taemin leans over his balcony to hand both of them to Jonghyun. Jonghyun takes them, mildly confused but extremely flattered, and brings the smaller ones up to sniff. Magic shimmers very faintly around their petals, the same kind that hovers around Taemin’s balcony vines, the same kind that float around the bushes that surround the ground floor of the apartments. Jonghyun thinks he’s starting to get used to the subtleness of it all.

“Wow,”  he says, smiling down at both of them. They’re so cute. “I mean, thanks,” he says, looking back up to Taemin. Taemin rubs his nose with a sheepish little shrug, plush lips spread wide in a beautiful smile.

“The purple ones are mayflowers,” they say, pointing. “And they mean welcome. And the others are zinnias, and they mean, like, long lasting affection.” He reaches over and boops one of the big flowers with a fond look. “So, like,” he says. “Welcome to your new home, and I hope you like it while you’re here.” Their smile is sincere and earnest, their words simple. Jonghyun smiles back at him, smiles down at his new flowers, feels incredibly happy that he decided to actually come outside today.

“Thank you, again,” he says, gently poking the leaves of his mayflowers. They’re soft and lovely.

“Mmhmm,” Taemin hums. “I was gonna make you a bouquet, to, like, say all of that more specifically, but I figured these would last longer.”

“Can you say all of that with more flowers?” Jonghyun asks. It seems improbable. He knows that yellow roses mean friendship and either pink or red roses mean romantic love, but that’s about it. Taemin nods though, shrugs like it’s no big deal.

“You can say a lot with flowers,” he says. “It’s easy when you speak the language.”

“Flower language?” Jonghyun asks, cocking a brow and grinning when Taemin nods. That’s cute. Maybe he’ll look up more flower stuff later and try to figure out what a full welcome bouquet would actually look like. For now, he places his two cute new plant friends on the ground next to him, thanks Taemin again, and googles how to care for them.

~

The internet told him to keep the mayflowers inside and keep the zinnias frequently watered in full sunlight, so he takes that as good enough of a reason to drag his tired butt outside three times a day. If he can’t do it for himself, at least he can do it for the flowers.

That’s what he tells himself, anyway, as he sips the water meant for the zinnias out of the glass and stares outside. It’s almost sunset. Super late. They won’t get all dried out. Probably. They’ll be fine. And if they really needed to be watered, he’s sure that Taemin would help him kind of pep them back up to life in the morning.

“Holy fuck,” he sighs at himself, shaking his head. No. He can’t be that garbage about it. It’s literally only the first day; he can’t let them die so soon and expect his new neighbor to fix his mistakes. He can’t be some asshole that expects a babe to do all of his work for him. He can go out there again. He believes in himself.

He drinks half the glass of water, fills it back up, and bravely heads outside, hesitating only a little bit at the door before pushing it open. He’s already come this far; might as well go all the way.

Outside, the sun is in that weird place of making him sweaty warm but not strong enough to stop the chills from the slow breeze that shuffles his clothes. He grimaces, but shuffles out and crouches down near his little flowerpot anyway, tipping the glass into it until the soil looks reasonably damp. It looks like more of the magic that floats through the air in this city has decided to cling to her leaves and he wiggles his fingers in it absent-mindedly for a moment. Cute.

His back twinges at him as he stands up straight again. He needs to get a little table to put these flowers on. And maybe he should start working on his posture, but that’s less simple. Cheaper, though. Hmm.

“Hi again.”

“Hmm?” Jonghyun looks up; Taemin looks back at him, fingers hovering over their laptop but smile warm. Jonghyun finds himself giving them a small, tired smile back. “Hey,” he says, taking another sip of water and slumping into his chair. “Back outside to watch the sunset?” he asks, gesturing at the horizon. Taemin’s smile grows a little wider.

“I’ve been out here pretty much all day, actually,” he says.

“Oh,” Jonghyun says, taken aback. He can’t imagine that. It’s been so bright and warm and gross this whole time. “Well, I mean,” he says, reminding himself that other people don’t literally get their depression through the weather. “Fresh air,” he says blandly, trying to think up something good about being outside all day. Taemin chuckles softly, nodding.

“Gotta get that photosynthesis,” they say, wiggling their fingers at the sun. Jonghyun exhales in amusement, eyes flicking to his little zinnias on the floor. Good point. Technically that’s what he’s out here for also, even if his sun absorption is marginally less. At least he can be confident that Taemin will never run out of his sun vitamins. He falls back into his lounge chair and closes his eyes, letting the sun warm his lids and not going back inside until it fully disappears behind the horizon. Taemin stretches and gets up then too, giving Jonghyun a quick, gorgeous smile as he cradles his laptop in his arms and slips inside.

~

Jonghyun thinks he’s starting to get tired of his own body’s whining. He leans back in his kitchen chair, slouched halfway down and staring blandly at the little ceiling lamp. She has faded glow in the dark star stickers on her from Jinki that he smiles at, but soon he sighs again, turning his head to where he can just see his balcony from the kitchen doorway.

It’s been like, four days. It’s Thursday. And every day, three times a day, without fail, he has this same shitty argument with himself. He yawns wide into his empty home and blinks blearily outside, trying to will himself to just get up and go out there.

He gets up and washes his cereal bowl instead. That’s not exactly a bad thing, but he’s still annoyed with himself as he dries it and puts it away. If he’s gonna have to force himself to do this every morning he’s gonna start having a real problem with himself. It’s fucking wild to him how he was able to clean up his whole balcony the other day with no problem but now that he’s literally just trying to sit down for twenty minutes it’s so difficult. Doing nothing shouldn’t be this hard.

“Just,” he whispers to himself. “Just. Just do it, just--just go out there, just--do the fucking thing.” He really needs to get something to give himself actual incentive to go out there. He is gonna go out and buy a little table during the weekend; maybe he’ll also go bug Jinki for some free old clay from his pottery store. He can’t do that sculpting shit inside. He can leave it outside and do a little fussing with it every day. He’ll make himself a cute ceramic puppy. Yeah.

WIth a grimace and a heavy sigh, he grabs his laptop off of the kitchen table and slumps outside with it, squinting against the warm morning sun. He falls down heavily in his chair, muffling another yawn into his hand and clumsily opening his laptop. Honestly with the wifi here it’ll probably be time to go back in by the time it gets all started up and ready to go.

“Morning,” Taemin’s voice says from the other balcony. Jonghyun glances up, somehow just as surprised to see him there as he’s been all week, and nods with the smallest little smile.

“Hi,” he mumbles. A breeze flows passed Taemin’s balcony and over his and he shivers lightly, wishing he had a blanket out here to keep him warm. He pouts at the little sparkles of magic that flow by his balcony as well. He also wishes that he was able to control the little currents of wayward magic in his life. He’d pull them all over and be at the perfect temperature all the time.

“Sleepy still?” Taemin asks, and Jonghyun glances at them again. He’s got a sympathetic smile on his lips and Jonghyun chuckles softly, nodding. Yeah, they could say that.

“Bad morning,” he shrugs. “Depression. Executive dysfunction. Couldn’t sleep. The usual.” Or, almost the usual. He barely slept at all last night and that’s honestly what’s fucking him up the most.

“Oh,” Taemin says. “Was that you playing the guitar at, like, three in the morning?” they ask. A curious smile tugs their lips up but Jonghyun still blushes, curling his fingers self-consciously into the collar of his shirt. Heck.

“Uh, yeah, um,” he says. “Sorry, did I wake you up?” he asks. “Was I too loud?” He thought he was, damn it, but he kept playing anyway. He wanted to really get down the melody for one of the songs he’s working on but now apparently he’s that asshole. He hasn’t even met the rest of his neighbors yet. Fuck.

“Oh, no no,” Taemin says quickly. He reaches over to let his arm dangle over the edge of their balcony. “You were really quiet but I was just up already anyway,” he says. “I don’t really sleep a lot.” They shrug; Jonghyun blinks at them for a second before breathing a heavy sigh of relief. A small chuckle falls out of his lips with it.

“Oh,” he says. “Okay. Good.” Super good. He’s glad he didn’t wake anyone up. “I have insomnia too,” he says, sliding his hand from his collar to the back of his neck. It’s nice to meet someone else like him. “Usually I try to stay in bed but sometimes I just know that sleep isn’t going to happen, you know?” He shrugs lightly and Taemin nods back.

“Well,” they say. “I really liked listening to you play.” His smile is warm, and as another breeze blows both air and magic into Jonghyun’s space, he feels warm too.

~

By the beginning of his third week in his new home, Jonghyun has come to the realization that with an hour every day of just sitting in the sun and doing nothing, he has a lot more time to just think about things. His life, his music, his puppy still living with his sister for now… usually things that he understands, that he can figure out at least a little bit. There are some things, though, that he admittedly is having a little trouble with.

Or, no. Not some things. One thing. And by thing, he means person. And by person, he means Taemin.

Jonghyun is, like, at least seventy percent convinced that Taemin is a fairy. He knows that it’s ridiculous; he would know by now. Taemin would have told him, or it would be, like, glaringly obvious. Fairies aren’t exactly secretive. They just. Exist. Blatantly. As fairies. As everyone else exists in their own ways.

Maybe it is glaringly obvious, though. Maybe it is and Jonghyun just isn’t putting it all together because Taemin is just existing as a fairy much more subtly than what Jonghyun is used to. Maybe he’s just an obnoxious city babe that expects every magic thing to present itself to him without question.

Or maybe it’s not obvious at all because it’s not true and Jonghyun is just overthinking something because that’s all he can do when he’s outside, on his balcony, and avoiding doing any actual work on his laptop.

He watches Taemin quietly out of the corner of his eye, thumb rubbing over the touchpad of his laptop as Taemin’s thumb rubs innocently over their own. He’s beautiful absolutely fucking gorgeous, with the softest and brightest red hair Jonghyun has ever seen. Whenever he smiles with those plush lips and their cheeks round up and his eyes turn into little crescents, Jonghyun feels like his breath leaves him and that Taemin’s beauty can’t be anything but supernatural. Their dark brown eyes draw Jonghyun in and make him smile back every time, make him want to lean closer just so he can see them twinkle in the setting sunlight.

And speaking of sunlight, he’s starting to get really, really, really suspicious of that whole “photosynthesis” comment Taemin made the other day. They can’t. They can’t possibly convert light energy from the sun into chemical energy to fuel their body. That’s just. Impossible. Or. Improbable.

Because also, Taemin did say that he didn’t really sleep much. Maybe he doesn’t really sleep at all. Because they don’t need to. Because he gets all of his energy from the sun. Through photosynthesis.

Jonghyun bites his lip and quickly opens a new tab to google how photosynthesis actually works for the third time. Sunlight energy… carbon dioxide… water molecules (Jonghyun’s eyes flick to the water bottle Taemin has sitting in his chair’s cup holder)... chlorophyll…. Chlorophyll. Hmm. That’s green, he thinks. That has to be green to do the whole energy conversion thing.

At least, Jonghyun thinks it does. Maybe there are some plants out there that aren’t green but do just fine. And maybe plant fairies don’t photosynthesize the way real plants do.

Taemin might not even be a plant fairy; maybe he’s an earth fairy, or a nature fairy, or any other kind of fairy. Maybe he’s not a fairy and is actually a witch instead. Their balcony plants do shimmer and Jonghyun vaguely remembers that fairy magic was more sparkly than shimmery. But then, he doesn’t think witches can do spells that let them speak to plants. That’s definitely a fairy thing. Either way, Taemin’s flower language thing is definitely not mundane.

Or, alternatively, instead of all of this, Taemin is just a pretty babe that loves plants. Maybe he’s just exactly Jonghyun’s type and that’s why Jonghyun thinks he’s so gorgeous. And maybe they’ve researched the meanings of lots of flowers because he thinks it’s fun. Maybe he just likes making shitty plant jokes because they’re a good egg with a pure sense of humor.

Jonghyun sighs quietly, rubbing his palms into his eyes. He really shouldn’t be getting so deep into his new neighbor’s life. He just met the babe, like, less than a month ago. He’s sure it’s common courtesy to at least wait a year before snooping in their business. Lowering his hand down to smother a yawn, he takes his eyes from the sunset to glance at Taemin again. They look normal, average, nothing magical at all. Sleepy bags under his eyes, acne scars on his cheeks, a slight oiliness to his hair that suggests he’s skipped a shower or two. A simple suburban balcony gardener, with plants that only carry magic that drifts to them from elsewhere in the city.

Looking back to the sun, he notes blandly that it’s almost all the way gone. Almost time for him to head back in. He fluffs up his hair, fixes his bangs, straightens his jacket over his shoulders. He has dinner to start making inside. He closes his laptop gently, lifting it up to the cheap little table he bought the other day. Taemin is getting up too; Jonghyun watches them stretch, stand up, and pull a blanket over his shoulders like a cape.

It flutters their hair by their cheeks and he lifts a hand to tuck the stray strands behind his ear. Behind them, the gentle oranges and reds of the sunset almost blend in with their hair, the light shining through and casting a faint glow around every little frizz. They tuck their water bottle into the pocket of their hoodie, grab their laptop, and look up to give Jonghyun a quick smile.

“Night,” he says, voice warm and friendly, mouth curved up more on his right side than his left, skin just tinted the faintest gold from the glow of the sun. Jonghyun feels his breath leave his lungs and the words that come with it are entirely involuntary.

“Are you a fairy?” he blurts, loudly and quickly and with an embarrassing voice crack at the end. Taemin just looks at him, one hand on his sliding glass door, and Jonghyun looks back, heat rising into his cheeks as his fingers curl nervously into his sleeves. Fuck. Fuck. He fucked up. What the fuck is wrong with him.

On the other balcony, Taemin’s lips curve up again into a soft, quiet chuckle. He looks down, rubs his nose, looks back up and brushes their bangs out of their face with the widest, most gorgeous smile.

“I can see why you would think that,” he says. Pushing his door open, he slips easily inside and closes it behind him. Jonghyun stares at the door, mouth open with words he didn’t get to say, for a long, confused time. The sun sets completely in front of him before he slowly gathers his stuff and goes to bed.

At least he has some real motivation to go outside tomorrow.