#try me !!!! ill fight you !!!! (i say as if i did not almost wither away seeing reposts of my art)

[vix-png]

aggretsuko and dungeon meshi because why not . yeah . shove my stupid little blorbos into my stupid little anti-capitalist show .

[sillysuitsandwich]

aggretsuko and dungeon meshi because why not . yeah . shove my stupid little blorbos into my stupid little anti-capitalist show .…(the complete story)

[edenmemes]

assassin’s creed valhalla starters

words within ‘()’ are additional, optional choices! more maybe to be added at a later date. some n/sfw present. 

❝ you should see the other man. he got the worst of it. ❞   ❝ and who better to lead us to glory than me? ❞ ❝ i am most at home helping others. ❞       ❝ i’ve waited long enough for you, and you for me. ❞   ❝ thank you for not saying anything about my past. ❞       ❝ know that however far away, you’re always in my thoughts. ❞   ❝ when you see your god, tell them i sent you. ❞   ❝ what you make up in muscles, you’re lacking in spine. ❞   ❝ i almost envy you, to see the world through such a muddy glass and live with such petty concerns. ❞   ❝ i smell the stink of a dozen kingdoms in your beard. ❞   ❝ this feud is not yours, yet you fight it all the same. i find that strange. ❞   ❝ by the look on your face, you have lost your will to live. ❞   ❝ my arms are numb from battle. does it need any dressing?    do you think it is a serious wound? ❞   ❝ oh dear. this is not how i foresaw things. not at all! ❞   ❝ should we take this to your chamber? ❞   ❝ i want this. i want you. ❞   ❝ turn around, walk away, and you keep your insides inside. ❞   ❝ stay back! back! i will fight you! ❞   ❝ you look like reddened shit. what happened? ❞   ❝ i have always wanted to experience the world as you do. ❞   ❝ you come like a valkyrie out of a fog. but i have no dead to give you. ❞   ❝ all right, stay close and do as i do. ❞   ❝ home. or...it was home, once. now it is nothing but bone. ❞   ❝ i’ll have no qualms wiping clean your grin. ❞   ❝ just take care. such hatred can make you careless. ❞   ❝ away from your table for a day and you are already lusting for blood. ❞   ❝ if i did not know any better, i would say you are teasing me. ❞   ❝ the dream of new lands is a powerful lure. ❞   ❝ i love climbing up here. makes me feel as high as a raven. ❞   ❝ if i don’t find your horse, i will steal you a new one. ❞   ❝ i feel somewhat trapped. in this room, in this settlement, in this life. ❞   ❝ you are lost in a sea-storm of your own making. ❞   ❝ the poet in you sings once again. ❞   ❝ tonight, we will eat and drink like gods and wake in a kingdom made new. ❞   ❝ i wish i understood you better. for those i do not understand, i do not trust. (and i cannot stomach a lack of trust.) ❞ ❝ i’ve been called worse. ❞   ❝ you have nothing to fear from me. i bear you no ill will. ❞   ❝ you are a shadow of your father. weak and witless. ❞   ❝ what is this? is this...are we in hell? ❞   ❝ keep company with kings and you will soon have a crown of your own. ❞   ❝ a toothless cub may grow to be a dangerous wolf. ❞   ❝ you are far too young to speak so wise. ❞   ❝ i need clear, sound judgement. i need you. ❞   ❝ kind and courageous people live the best lives, but it can be a difficult path to keep. ❞ ❝ i want to say...i love you. and i have for some time. ❞ ❝ you smell that? the stink of jealousy. (of our budding friendship, i think). ❞   ❝ ah, while i have you, i’m reminded...i have this for you. ❞   ❝ your lies are just like you. big and bold. ❞   ❝ don’t excuse yourself. you enjoy this too much. ❞   ❝ you've come back. why are you wasting your time with me? ❞   ❝ care to sing a song? helps me pass the time. ❞   ❝ that is twice you have earned my admiration. ❞   ❝ you have only the setting sun to tell you when to stop. ❞   ❝ i want to know what you know. name your price. ❞   ❝ people like you deserve something worse than death. ❞   ❝ they called me a lout, a disgrace. they were right. ❞   ❝ i will have to get used to watching the sights of war from afar now. ❞   ❝ there’s no other way. fight or hide. it’s up to you. ❞   ❝ do not think me a coward. i am not afraid of war. ❞   ❝ friendships end. often at the point of a spear. ❞ ❝ i will make you beg as your father begged. ❞   ❝ (until that time,) it would be best to keep all discussions about...    about us to yourself. ❞ ❝ without you i would have lost my way a thousand times. ❞   ❝ you have no other friends. so tread lightly here. ❞   ❝ be it a blessing or a curse, family is always first. ❞   ❝ let’s not walk too far with that idea. i need you right where you are. ❞   ❝ you bested me. yet, i’m the one left standing. ❞   ❝ it’s a pleasure to meet you at least. ❞   ❝ you and your people here have done more for me than i could ever repay. ❞   ❝ you have my highest respect, regard, and trust. ❞   ❝ you’re not shy, are you? ❞   ❝ if we do this, you’ll earn the right to call me friend ten-thousand fold. ❞   ❝ does this have the stench of betrayal to you? ❞ ❝ today has meant so much. we rode, we fought, we drank, we laughed. (you showed me your world.) ❞       ❝ your end was written the moment you came for me. ❞   ❝ i am a sellsword. i ask what i please, and i take what i’m owed. ❞ ❝ you move and i will take your eyes. you hear me? ❞   ❝ i will leap first. on my word, you must follow. ❞   ❝ many times i wished to tell you. wished to say what was in my heart and what i desired. (but duty kept me from it.) ❞   ❝ these wounds will heal quickly. you’re lucky. ❞   ❝ anything to help you feel at home. ❞   ❝ our friendship is the best thing to come from this mess. ❞   ❝ you will be remembered for this, for years to come. ❞   ❝ i thought i had lost you. for good this time. ❞   ❝ you have shown me a great kindness. it is only fitting that i do the same. ❞   ❝ the mess you’re in...you don’t know the half of it. ❞   ❝ you have drawn a dark conclusion about me, haven’t you? (that is all well and good. i’ve drawn some about you as well.) ❞   ❝ you seem...strangely familiar. ❞   ❝ here i am, an upright man who never once learned how to bend the knee. and yet...i shall try. ❞ ❝ that’s a bread knife. do you mean to butter me? ❞   ❝ is that not something you worry over? ❞   ❝ a blind pursuit of vengeance has made you predictable. ❞   ❝ no matter where you are, or how far you travel, i will hunt you down. ❞   ❝ i came for you, looking for a friend and ally. ❞   ❝ people change.    it may be that you change with them, or you go your separate ways. ❞   ❝ i wish you whatever peace you may find in this new life you’ve found. ❞   ❝ i want your word: you will follow my orders. ❞   ❝ the day is new, and the air is bracing. are you ready for the fight ahead? ❞   ❝ er...good to meet you as well? ❞   ❝ what riches are worth so much misery, and the deaths of honorable men and women? ❞   ❝ my destiny is mine to weave. ❞   ❝ my road forward has been a muddy one. slick with blood and tears. (but we can reach its end together.) ❞   ❝ it is a wise leader who considers the needs of others. ❞   ❝ i think my mouth has gotten me in enough trouble today. ❞   ❝ at the end of all things, you will find yourself with nothing but your regrets. ❞   ❝ you saw fit to keep me guessing through your fits of madness. ❞   ❝ by all the gods, what was that? ❞   ❝ i was...restless. a quiet walk alone clears the head. ❞   ❝ when winter is past, summer will come and wind you in a flowered skirt, for you are beauty and shall not wither. ❞   ❝ ...unless you had a more interesting day planned for us? ❞   ❝ i do hope you see it now, for all you have done for me. ❞   ❝ your passion, your strength. i have never met such a burning soul. ❞   ❝ i have no guilt nor regret for what we have done, but we should be careful. ❞   ❝ i see before me a person full of passion, vigor, and a love for their people. ❞   ❝ if i wanted to hear you talk shit, i’d cut out your tongue and shove it up your ass. ❞   ❝ you! you look stronger than most of the others. ❞   ❝ your hatred for me burns bright. i could warm my balls on it. ❞   ❝ you’re quite like your arms: incredibly thick. ❞   ❝ i fought as i do, as hard as i do, to survive. (for i know what awaits us in the end. only darkness.) ❞   ❝ a shameful trick. you are your father’s child. ❞   ❝ you destroyed my life. i will take yours. ❞   ❝ you snore a little, like a wounded bear. ❞   ❝ that’s when i knew i would live and die for you. ❞   ❝ i’m going to pretend your last words were taken by the wind. ❞   ❝ i might still kill you yet, if your prattling doesn’t cease. ❞   ❝ you are weak like your father was weak. (you dance better than you fight.) ❞   ❝ have you ever seen muscles as massive as mine? ❞   ❝ i’m honored by your faith in me. and your confidence. ❞   ❝ after my missteps, i worry what you must think of me. ❞   ❝ with so much blood in the water and death in the air, i’d like to know your name and purpose. ❞ ❝ i have a good feeling about this place. ❞   ❝ you helped me reclaim what i had lost in myself. ❞       ❝ you speak of honor. where’s yours? ❞       ❝ you will throw away all reason to defend what you sworn to. ❞       ❝ you really are like a hero out of folk tales. ❞       ❝ how much would you sacrifice to be freed of fate’s shackles? (would you give your tongue, your hand, your sight?) ❞   ❝ there’s no power strong enough to do what you say. ❞       ❝ please, you must fight for me.    who knows what vile people might come to harm me? ❞   ❝ i have no need to count my kills. they number too many. ❞   ❝ i appreciate you for all of your qualities. ❞ ❝ not even the gods can change fate. ❞       ❝ i think it is time i take my leave. ❞ ❝ you really thought my life was in danger? (and you risked your own life...) ❞ ❝ the path ahead is bright, with glory at its end. ❞ ❝ it is easy to lose one's way on the road to glory. do not let false victories blind you to what is true. ❞ ❝ the act of leaving so beloved a home, there is a sadness to it. ❞       ❝ so there’s nowhere...you call home? ❞   ❝ all things end. ruins are not a warning, they are a testament. ❞   ❝ be nice to sleep in a real bed when this is over. ❞   ❝ in my sleep i dream. and in my dreams i see an end to the doom that will grip the earth once again. ❞   ❝ even when we win, we lose. ❞   ❝ i am as good with my lips, as i am with my tongue. ❞   ❝ is this your idea of a pleasant ride through the country? ❞   ❝ no whispering god brought me here. i brought myself. ❞   ❝ i would like very much to pass some time with you. ❞   ❝ ...and that’s how i got that scar. ❞   ❝ do i now haunt your dreams? ❞   ❝ it was never in their character to lead, it was always within yours. ❞   ❝ so easily wounded by words. imagine the ruin my axe would inflict on your flaccid ego. ❞   ❝ i have felt this way for some time now. i care for you. ❞   ❝ i have not felt safe since then. not really. ❞   ❝ how long have you been chasing me? seventeen winters? eighteen? ❞   ❝ you are not always to be trusted. your passions overcome you. ❞   ❝ i like you. you may help me here or step on me...and by the look of you i’d welcome either. ❞   ❝ it is good to have you in this fight. ❞   ❝ you need only know my impressive scale and flawless build. ❞   ❝ i am better than any man here. ❞   ❝ i can tell by looking at you, you are not a great warrior. (you know it too, there is no reason to deny this.) ❞   ❝ i am looking for honor, and have become lost as a result. ❞   ❝ many apologies. you are no child, simply a frail and fully-grown fool. ❞   ❝ i was stupid, selfish, reckless, blind, boneheaded, and i smell like blood and shit. ❞ ❝ anything to say for the mess you led us to? ❞   ❝ how was your...first kill? ❞   ❝ you squirm like that and my axe will miss your neck! unpleasant for both of us. ❞   ❝ i know you would defy me to the death, fighting for a glorious end.     that i will not allow. ❞   ❝ most men choose to be loud or stupid. impressive, that you managed both. ❞   ❝ you are a great warrior. conquerer of this land and that of your birth. ❞   ❝ you’re chasing shadows like a madman howling at the moon! ❞   ❝ quite a hit you took. how many were lost? ❞   ❝ well fought! even if your wits were somewhat rattled. ❞   ❝ we suffered no losses in this fight, and the men who humiliated us are dead. what is there to say? ❞   ❝ i would like to be close to you. ❞   ❝ if you are a warrior with honor running like sunlight in your veins, then you may help me fulfill my destiny. ❞ ❝ you are a long way from any warm hearth, warrior. Is this where you call home? ❞ ❝ am i to go the rest of my days without love or attention? i think not. ❞   ❝ the gods favor you. they always have. ❞   ❝ the others, they are like clubs. blunt and ungainly, you are nimble, like a knife. ❞   ❝ people with eyes that gleam like yours are always up to something more. ❞   ❝ only a fool stays awake all night worrying. you are tired when you get up, and the problem is still not solved. ❞   ❝ i liked you from the first. i saw something in you that captivated me. (as if a forgotten memory of an old friendship had suddenly resurfaced.) ❞   ❝ you've done nothing but give me your blind word! ❞   ❝ did you bring me any treasure? ❞ ❝ the woodsmoke from your firepit does sting the eyes. but the warmth is welcome. ❞ ❝ it is not something i can speak on. or wish to. ❞ ❝ i'm with you. only say the word. ❞ ❝ until we cut off this serpent's head, it will poison us, day by day, drop by drop. ❞ ❝ get some rest and return here at first light. ❞ ❝ i missed having you at my side. how i wished i could have taken you along on my travels. ❞ ❝ i do not like this, but i will not stop you. ❞ ❝ i have waited too many years for this day. when ___ stands before us, give me the final blow. ❞ ❝ why do you carry such a useless burden? let it go. ❞ ❝ i have waited years for this, but i will not risk losing it through rashness. ❞ ❝ i cannot fathom your game. you are either a young fool...or deceptively wise. ❞ ❝ your confidence blinds you to so much in plain sight. ❞   ❝ it’s good to be here, with you and your people. (i feel my life has found a new road.) ❞   ❝ there has always been war, even among the gods. ❞       ❝ my honor has been stained. until it's wiped clean, i want nothing else. ❞ ❝ i lack the patience for pole fishing. i would have better luck with my bow. ❞   ❝ if we tell all our stories, we’ll be here for a week. ❞ ❝ can you teach me the art of archery? ❞   ❝ bury the past. build the future. ❞       ❝ i missed you. your clear head and your courage. (we have not had enough of both in recent months.)   ❞   ❝ i have a good feeling this war is near its end. ❞ ❝ explain in plain words why you have willfully disobeyed my commands. (do you mock me?) ❞   ❝ the gods favor you. they always have. ❞   ❝ my love for you rises tall and strong, like the tree of life. ❞   ❝ the prize is some of my time. (a walk in nature, maybe more if that is where our conversation takes us.) ❞ ❝ together, we are unstoppable. ❞ ❝ it is natural to fear change. to resist it. (but all things change, and all things end.) ❞ ❝ you said nothing of this to me, not a word. ❞ ❝ so long as men and women fight to secure honor and freedom, their allegiance hardly matters to me. ❞ ❝ i care for you. i do not know how to say it any other way. ❞   ❝ love can burn brighter near death. ❞ ❝ i knew this would be difficult, but sometimes the weight bears down heavily. ❞ ❝ you are young and still foolish, so i will spare you your life. (but cross me again or harm anyone i cherish, and you will join your friends in hell.)   ❞ ❝ if you are as brave as you appear, you will come. ❞ ❝ this is not a natural quiet. it's as if a curse has befallen this place. ❞ ❝ there was a curse here long before i came along. ❞ ❝ we’ll forge a warrior from your softness, hammered on the anvil of war. ❞ ❝ you are different than the kind my flights of fancy attract. burdened, decorated and…delicate. ❞ ❝ i do not know what else to say. m-my memories are faint, hazy. ❞ ❝ how are you doing? you survived a serious blow. ❞   ❝ we’ll weave our sagas together, thread upon thread. ❞ ❝ i try to use my knowledge to help others. i am only a threat to those who fear the unknown. ❞   ❝ slap some moss on that gash and wrap it well. ❞   ❝ a knife to the back is a wound that never heals. ❞       ❝ with me you have wisdom! glory! power! what more do you need? ❞       ❝ if your hell is real, i’m glad you’ll get to see it. ❞   ❝ to fight beside such legends is an honor. (i've only heard tales of your conquests. now i get to live them.) ❞   ❝ i have tried to live well. it is enough that the gods know that. ❞ ❝ a cloud hangs over you. is something wrong? ❞   ❝ you have plunged my city into chaos. ❞   ❝ my sword is gore-greedy. i am ready to fight. ❞   ❝ accept your fate and die a coward, here before your people... and i will spare the rest. ❞   ❝ you would take the rescue for yourself, so the victory song is written about you? ❞   ❝ kneel, and i will spare your life. ❞   ❝ it has been some time. what brings you so far to see me? ❞

[darkktea]

In Your Eyes - ☾ Albedo ☽

You’d always thought there was something wrong with his eyes.

They were wide and blue, lovely, enticing. When you’d first met him, you had thought that his insatiable want for knowledge meant that the thing that lurked in his eyes was childlike wonder. Now, you knew it for what it was: calculated hunger.

He knew how to get what he wanted, and when you had first stared working with him and Sucrose, that had been a good thing. It meant that no question went unanswered, that no experiment went without conclusion. He always said that the means were more fascinating to him than the answers, but Archons, did he want answers.

You didn’t know when Albedo started paying extra attention to you.

You supposed that was the point; to lure you in, to make you believe that you were safe, in control, untouchable. And he had been very good at doing so. In hindsight, the questions he had started asking should have given you some indication.

But when had he ever given you a reason not to trust him?

It’s a nice day out, today. When had you started thinking that the days could be nice in Dragonspine?

The paintbrush slides against the canvas, smearing paint in red, like blood. You used to enjoy painting for the sake of painting; it was one of the things that you and Albedo had bonded over. Now it’s all you can do to hold the paintbrush in your hand. Even the weight of it, familiar, makes you feel ill.

“That looks very nice,” says a voice that is unwelcome. Your grip tightens involuntarily on the paintbrush.

“How are you feeling?” says Albedo, his voice as careful and analyzing as ever. Your paintbrush stills.

Like shit, like I want to die, like I want you to die, like I hate that this is what my life has become.

You don’t say any of these things. You don’t say anything at all. You see his hand reach around your head, index finger tracing the still-wet paint idly. When he pulls away, there’s red on his skin.

“What are you painting?” he tries again, and you know he sees the way your shoulders curl in on themselves.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. Your voice is so small.

He says nothing, but comes into view now. He’s carrying a plate of food. Your stomach twists at the sight of it. You put the paintbrush down.

“I’m not hungry.”

He raises an eyebrow quizzically.

“That’s what you said last night.”

You chew at your thumbnail. You’re not usually so involved. You don’t like it.

“It was true then, and it’s true now.”

He holds the plate out to you. Two mora meat buns sit steaming next to a large helping of salad. He’s trying to entice you; mora meat buns used to be your favourites. Now, looking at them makes you feel sick.

“You need sustenance. Eat.”

You turn back to your painting. That’s enough involvement for one day. He’s forced you to pick your battles, and this is a mountain you’ll die on. Besides, it’s true that you aren’t hungry. It’s because of him that you aren’t hungry.

He sighs, and it’s the kind of sigh that a parent might make when faced with a troublesome child, or the sigh that Albedo himself would make when something with his experimentation proved particularly difficult.

In your peripheral, you watch him hook an ankle around the leg of a stool, pulling it toward you. He sits, leaning forward on his elbows. You can feel his unnatural eyes boring into you.

Your paintbrush drags aimlessly across the canvas.

“Why do you make things so difficult?” he asks, and his voice sounds nearly… pained. For a moment, you find yourself nearly falling for it. But then you remember who he is, and how he had developed a specific way of gleaning reactions from you once you had gone so… numb. “You’re wasting away. It’s upsetting.”

He feigns emotion. He feigns pain. Hurt. It’s insulting.

So you ignore him.

“I don’t want to do this the hard way. It’s… unproductive.”

You chew at the inside of your cheek. Let me go, and I promise I’ll eat something, you almost say. You don’t, of course. You could, though. But you don’t.

“Eat,” he says, and there is a final warning in his voice.

“I’m not hungry,” you say, and you are just as surprised as he is when your voice breaks. Your eyes slip shut.

It’s the truth. The reality of the situation, of this, of being here with him, has stolen the luster from things. It has stolen your hunger for food, your hunger for life. When you look in the mirror these days, you don’t recognize the dead eyes that look back. You’re empty. You’re hollow.

A tear slips down your cheek.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is so soft, so gentle. “Please tell me what’s wrong.” It feels like a knife pushed through your heart.

When he reaches out to touch you, it is featherlight. It feels like being burned by the sun. You flinch away, and you hear him sigh.

Your head sinks forward, paintbrush fallen and forgotten, your knees pulling up. For a moment, for two, you say nothing. You wish that you could fold yourself up so small that you could disappear.

You wish that you could go home.

“Why am I here, Albedo?” you finally say, voice soft and quiet. You don’t look at him. You don’t remember the last time you said his name. It feels heavy and foreign on your tongue.

“Because it’s where you should be. Because you’re safe here.”

“Let me go home.”

“You are home.”

“Why me?” you ask, a question that has been asked countless times. And every time, he says:

“Because there are so many things that I want from you. There are so many questions that I need answered.”

“That’s not fair.”

And it isn’t. Why must you suffer for the sake of his curiosity? His insatiable appetite for knowledge should have nothing to do with your right to freedom. Besides, there is no knowledge that justifies this. What could he possibly want to know? What could you possibly give him?

“What is fair, then?” he asks, and his voice has hardened now, impatient, snappish.

“Not this!” You cry, and lift your head up to meet his eyes. This is the most emotion you’ve shown in a long time. Or, what feels like a long time. You don’t know anymore. The spark inside dies down, and you slump your shoulders again. “I’m not hungry. Leave me alone.”

He doesn’t leave. He never listens. Instead, he leans even closer to you, and picks up a mora meat bun, pressing it against your lips. His eyes are so strange, you think again. So cold.

“Eat,” he says, and his other hand comes around to pry at your jaw. Part of you wants to bite his fingers off. Part of you wants to scream, to fight him, to do something. But that part of you is small and withered now, suspended somewhere deep inside of you, like a flower in resin. Untouchable, unreachable.

And his eyes are so devoid of anything resembling sympathy for it.

He doesn’t care. He never did.

And he never will.

[pars-ley]

Your eyes tell

Pairing: Prince Jungkook x Female Reader

Summary: When your best friend’s a prince and inherits the throne, he needs to find a wife to rule alongside him as Queen, you’re more than happy to help him choose an eligible bachelorette. But what happens when you, who only wants to marry for love, are forced to be one of the participants?  

Rating: (SFW) 13+

Genre: Royal au / Arranged marriage au / Angst / Fluff / Unrequited love

Word Count: 6400

Warnings: Serious angst. It will make you sick.

Prompts: Everything makes sense when you’re by my side. + I didn’t believe in love, not until I met you.

A/N: This is for the Golden Closet Network’s ‘Jungkook Birthday Project’ I stepped out of my comfort zone for this one, so hopefully it paid off. It’s from their two different perspectives. Italic font is Jungkook, normal font is reader. A big shout and a hell of a lot of thanks to @wheresmymoniat​ for helping me endlessly, especially through some serious writers block with the ending. She’s a darling.

Banner: @yeojaa​ honestly, she’s a goddess who went above and beyond to help me with this when I was struggling and offered out of the kindness of her heart, she also made the break lines for me cause she’s the BEST💕😘! 

Beta reader: @papillonsgf​ 😘

Meet Prince Jungkook...

As you hear the announcement escape his mouth, like a 'breaking news' headline silently screaming at you from behind bold, black print, all you can do is stare. The calmness in his voice, unmatched to his words echoing around in your mind, bouncing off the emptiness that has overcome you.

Your eyes sweep over him, the dark circles hanging heavy under his eyes, the exhaustion etched in his handsome face and the anxiety that rolls off him in waves.

A pain in your chest pulls at your emotions, a direct line to your heart just for him. Your body flung itself at him before you had time to register the action.

His arms curl around your waist, squeezing you, keeping you locked in place. His fingers digging into your back, making your anxiety for him creep up into your throat. You try to swallow it down, wanting to be strong for him but your mouth is suddenly without moisture

Your best friend is going to be King of Kalinia, that much you knew and that’s what is expected of a Prince but not now, not yet. 

All you can do is stand there, unmoving while he relays the details of his father's illness and his decision to step down from the throne. Meaning, all of it falling onto Jungkook’s shoulders. 

How could he bear all that weight on his own? Any normal man would crumble.

However, he is not any normal man, he is strong, determined, loyal, generous and one of the kindest men you know. But seeing him now, a shadow of all you know he is, you want to take it all away and harbour the load yourself, just to give him his freedom a little bit longer. 

The studying and travelling he’s been doing, all that now comes to an immediate halt, just as he had started to live his own life, it all comes crashing down around him. 

It’s your job to pick up the pieces and you’re more than happy to assume that role but it also means that your plans for travelling would have to be put on hold too. 

Your arrangement had been to meet Jungkook in Italy and travel around Europe together over the course of 2 months before returning to continue studies, but the idea of visiting these places alone, without him by your side, now seems a lot less appealing.

His slightly painful grip on your back, fingernails desperately digging in to provide some kind of anchorage for him, pulls you back into the present.

"Hey," you lean away so you can cradle his face in your hands. "It's just me right now, you can be honest. You don't have to pretend with me."

His wide eyes seem to tremble as they meet yours. "I just wasn't expecting this so soon." His voice interrupts the silence, slicing through it like a knife straight into your gut at his words. “I don't feel...ready for this. I thought I’d have more time to prepare and now, I have to find a wife. A WIFE!” 

The sorrow and anguish that fill his eyes overwhelm you with a heaviness in your chest, your pumping organ sinking like a rock to the pit of your stomach. But your mind is frozen, stuck on those last words you hear them rattling, echoing around in your mind, crashing against any thoughts you had like giant waves against rock. Wife? WIFE!

The ascending King cannot rule without a Queen by his side. That is the law of your country and the way it’s always been. You knew this, so why do you feel this way? How exactly do you feel? Sick. Panicked. Sombre. All of the above maybe? You just feel for the hardships that your friend is facing, that’s all it is, you tell yourself.

“I know, I know this has come as a shock but let me tell you, you’re meant to be King and you’re ready, even if you don’t feel like it. I have complete faith in you, Kook and I’ll be here every step of the way. I’ll even help you choose the right...wife.” You hesitate slightly, the words tasting like ash in your mouth.

He pulls you to him again. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Well, after he’s married and King, he’ll have to do without you. There'll be someone new to take care of him and do all the things you do together; to comfort him like this, to spend evenings star gazing and staring at the moon, to pick flowers in the Queen’s garden and have secret picnics in the meadows off grounds.

All of these moments with him won’t exist anymore. 

You feel empty at the thought. Almost as if someone reached inside and stole the most vital parts of you and put them on display behind an inaccessible, glass cage to watch beating and working without you.

As you cling to him, fingers gripped in his hair, cheek resting atop of his head, cradling him like your most precious possession, a tear escapes.

Your friend is slipping through your fingers, down into the depths of a world you won’t be able to follow and there's nothing you can do to stop it. You will lose him, that much you are sure of.

You glance over, her expression a smooth and flawless mask, never giving anything away. But you know her well enough to know that something has changed. She has not been the same since you revealed the news of your new-to-be title three weeks ago. 

Her usual brilliant, almost blinding light had dimmed into a burnt out candle, flickering on the last threads of its wick. No matter what you say to her she just smiles and says ‘I’m fine’. You might be clueless but you are determined to discover what’s changed.

As you sit here, discussing who, out of the fourteen eligible bachelorettes in the Kingdom, is most suited for being your future wife and Queen, you can’t help but find yourself thinking of only one. 

The one you wish you could have, the one you’d give anything to spend the rest of your days with but is the one who would never see you in such a way. 

As she sits across from you, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her delicate fingers tracing down her neck. God, how you longed for it to be you caressing her so tenderly, to be able to hold her and tell her what she means to you, to have her by your side instead of these paper faces staring up at you waiting for paper rings. All of them from good families, smart, pretty, the perfect persona for the outside world to see but completely and utterly tedious to you. There wasn’t a single thing written in this bleak print that held your interest even a fraction of the way y/n could. 

“Your majesty?” An indistinct voice snaps you out of your trance.

Her eyes flash up to meet yours and you look away quickly, hoping no one has noticed your forlorn stare at the true object of your affection.

“Yes?” You reply, trying to seem present in the room discussing your future as if you weren’t even here.

“Who are you choosing, your majesty?” An advisor asks nervously.

Her. Always her. A thousand times over. In this life and the next and any other after that may follow. 

“We need a final three, so we can move on to the next round of tests.”

Round? Tests? This was your life and here it is being discussed as if it were a gameshow. 

Your stomach twists, fear rises in your throat making it feel tight. You take a gulp of water, allowing the coolness to sooth you, and look at the sheets placed in front of you. The faces blurring along with the writing. 

“Y/n, what are your opinions?” You ask, genuinely curious who she’d pick for you. 

She’d choose someone who was strong enough to rule but also sensitive enough to be a decent match for you and that was all you could hope for at this point, a decent match. The three words everyone aspires to describe their life partner.

You wait with baited breath for her response, somewhere deep down in the pits of your heart where hope was long ago locked away and buried beneath years of friendly rubble, it makes an alarming surprise visit, breaking through the debris with ease. You cling to the book of secrets that’s been held captive there in a vault created from torment and in the dark corners you’re on your knees, praying to a god you don’t think will listen. Praying you hear her utter all the impossible things you know she never will. The desperation inside you, clawing to escape out of the refined, solid cage you built, you’re clenched fists under the table fighting to keep it down along with your breakfast.

Everything stills and slowly starts to wither away back to its original place, the place where it belongs, when she nonchalantly reads off three names...none of them hers.

"You've been ordered to participate y/n." The royal adviser informs you, his words ringing like high-pitched sirens in your ears. 

"I'm sorry, ordered by whom?" You frown, not understanding, the very idea of what he’s suggesting baffling your mind.

He sighs awkwardly, it’s obvious he did not want to be the one standing in front of you with your hot molten glare on him.

"Who gave the order?” You persist, when his silence is the only response you receive.  

He looks down, away from your blazing eyes. “Her majesty, the Queen.”

You freeze, the ground feeling as if it would break away under your feet. What!? Why would she force you to participate in this? She knows you do not want to be Jungkook’s wife and that he would not want you to be his? 

This makes no sense. You’ve always had such a lovely relationship with his parents. When you befriended Jungkook, they welcomed you in with open arms and loving smiles, encouraged your friendship and supported you with every decision along the way, so why do this? 

“I need to speak with her majesty.” You say through gritted teeth, not only from anger but your attempt at trying to keep down the bile you can feel burning your throat like lava.

He gives you a sharp nod and leads you to her quarters, not that you needed to be shown, you know this castle like the back of your hand, everything in it was both familiar and safe. 

As he announces you, you swallow, desperate to wet your dry throat pinching the air that passes with every breath. You hold back your cough in favour of clearing your throat, hoping to relieve the desert patch you feel, gravel grazing your insides down into the pit of your stomach.

When you enter she greets you with a broad, bright smile, a smile that contrasts so drastically to how you feel and, for once, you can’t bear to return it.

Her face drops slightly, but you see a twinkle of amusement in her eyes that makes your blood boil hot and irate in your veins. “Oh y/n, don’t pout, it doesn’t suit you.” She pats the seat next to her on her plush ornate sofa where she resides and places her book on the table in front.

You close the distance between you and sit rather woodenly at her side.

“The rules are the rules y/n, it’s nothing personal but I wouldn’t be doing my duty if I treated you differently. You know that.” Her eyes are so honest, a window right into her soul, lighting up and giving you a glimpse as to what it’s like to play her role. 

“But I can’t be his wife!” You exclaim. “He would never want me that way.” You urge, shaking your head at the sheer hilarity of the idea.

You’re met with a poker straight stare, unmoving, her skin still smooth after all these years, unreadable and hard as stone. Picture perfect, a royal portrait ready to be framed with gold. “If that’s the case, what are you worried about?”

You open your mouth to respond but the words are squeezed around your panic induced, contracting throat. Your words seem far away, as you grapple desperately for them.

She places a gentle hand on your knee, the touch calming you instantly. "Y/n listen to me, I know this whole situation has come as a shock to you and to Jungkook, believe me it's still processing for the King and I, but this is our life, however unfortunate, we have a duty. Now, you are not bound to this life by any means, but participating in this is your duty." 

She watches you for a moment, her intense gaze making you shift in your seat, as if she was seeing straight into you, everything you held laid bare for her own personal exhibit. "I know it’s hard, the idea that someone will take your place at his side, but he needs a wife and we know you don't want it to be you." Her piercing eyes driving a quick, sharp needle into yours, you look away unable to hold her intruding stare.

"Of course not." You retort with a snort.

She sits back on her sofa, her posture softening, relaxing against the cushioned back. She smiles staring at her hands placed in her lap, as if amused by an inside joke you're not privy to.

"You need to start listening to your heart more than your head, y/n, it will save you a lot of heartbreak in the future." 

Perplexed by this unexpected turn in conversation you find yourself frowning. "What do you mean?" 

Kindness stretching her mouth into a friendly curve. "My child, it seems I know you better than you know yourself. Your eyes tell."

"Tell what?" You shake your head trying to clear the mud in your mind, making her words impossible to understand.

"Everything." She sighs and stands. "I'm afraid I cannot get you out of this but as you said, you know he won't choose you, so there's no need to panic, is there?" 

She saunters gracefully out of the room leaving you with only your bewildered thoughts.

There's a double meaning in her last words but you struggle to determine what it could be.

And how would she know you better than you do? There's a hint of anxiety at what she saw in your eyes, at what you'd apparently given away to her. Your thoughts race, unable to connect her words to your reasoning and you leave the room feeling more frustrated and perplexed than when you entered.

You lean over the pages of the final women you have to choose from, head down eyes unwavering from the same spot you’ve been looking at for what feels like a lifetime. You’ve gone from three possible wives to four, the latter you’re sure if you take your eyes off the page it will disappear before you. 

Can this be real? Did she agree to this? Did she nominate herself to take part? Hope blossoms dangerously in your chest, flowering around your heart, encasing it in a prison of promise. A prison you’re creating, you know it but cannot stop. Your thoughts run away with you, visions of your dreams becoming reality within your grasp. 

You and her sneaking off grounds for picnics and play dates in the sun, trekking through the forest and taking the row boat out around the river bend, travelling to Paris and visiting the Notre Dame; somewhere she’s always wanted to go, the two of you snapping your own love lock on a branch of a tree with your initials entwined together and throwing away the keys in a nearby river. All the hopeless romantic things you’ve wanted to do, becoming a possibility, the excitement causing butterflies to fly rampantly in your stomach.

You push your chair out, finding your feet and rushing out of the room to find her. 

As you parade down the golden ornate halls, feeling as though you’re being carried by eagles wings, floating across the grounds being pulled in her direction. Her face; the only thing guiding your vision, maybe cupid’s arrow finally aimed in the direction you were hoping for, maybe god finally heard you. 

You find her by the fountains, her favourite place here, sitting staring at the water as if it holds the answers to all life’s problems. She hears your approach, her eyes snapping up to yours before quickly looking away to hide the tears you’ve already seen and brushing her face with her sleeve. 

You step down off the wings, coming crashing back down to earth, the butterflies turning to acid in your stomach and tasting it in your mouth as you rush to her side. Pulling her against you, wrapping her up in a cocoon of comfort and love. 

“Y/n, what’s wrong? Tell me.” You urge, panic tightening your gut, squeezing your insides in a vice. 

“I’m sure you’ve seen. I’ve been forced to participate in your bride-to-be pageant.” She spits bitter words aimed at you, hope clams up and collapses inside you. 

You realise how foolish you’d been to let yourself believe that she could want this like you crave, that she could see you anything like how you admire her, that she could feel for you the way you worship her. Your heart feels heavy, sinking in your chest and resting in the loveless hole gaping open, revealing your insides. The dullness overtakes you, seizing your limbs one by one, you’re unable to listen to the words she angrily ranting. A cloud of darkness swallowing you whole and you gladly take it by the hand, allowing it to draw you in. Maybe you’d forget if you stayed in there, in the dark. Maybe you’d forget about her if you just gave yourself the chance. 

She doesn’t want this, she doesn’t want you, that much is clear. So how can you choose her? Even if that is what you truly and honestly desire more than anything. You could not put her through that. She deserves to feel the way you do about someone, even if that person can’t be you, she deserves it, she deserves love. It was time to release her, to let her go. 

The thought had tears prick in your eyes, you quickly blink them away. 

“You don’t have to worry Y/n, it’s just a formal procedure. I won’t choose you, you’re off the hook.” The words leave you quickly, before you change your mind and sound like they belong to someone else. You would never say them, would you?

She pauses and looks up at you, her tear stained cheeks; you itched to reach out and wipe the shiny, salty trails away but you clench your hand into a fist to stop yourself. “You won’t?” She asks in disbelief.

“Of course not.” You try to give her a reassuring smile but it feels false, painted on like the many royal portraits you grew up staring at.

She stares back out at the fountain, back stiff against you. Your arms fall loosely away from her. “Oh, well, that’s a relief.” She sighs and yet, her reaction perplexes you. You thought she’d seem happier, instead she just seems blank. 

“Hey, chin up.” You nudge her jaw with your fist, a friendly gesture you had done many times. When she arches away from it, the action makes your insides twist, unable to understand. 

What have you done wrong? You couldn't win, nothing seemed like the right decision anymore.

Why did she seem to be slipping further and further away from you? Even though she sat right next to you, your arms lightly touching at the proximity, she had never felt further away from you. Just out of reach of your grasp.

He had spoken the words you hoped for and yet, you couldn't describe this overwhelming feeling that had draped over you almost instantly, like a blanket of despair. It has enveloped you more and more over the passing weeks.

As you watch him and her, his chosen bride, from your perch of loneliness you felt annoyance grow inside you. You're his friend, his best friend, you should be happy if he's happy. 

You watch him smile at her, occasionally he might take her hand in his or tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Things he used to do with you, but it seems different with her, more intimate. And yet it’s funny how you know neither of them have romantic feelings for one another, it's all a façade, it’s all forced. 

Why would anyone want to live like that? A loveless marriage. You couldn't wrap your head around the concept.

Was she so desperate to become queen? It's not like she has much of a choice though, those of you within certain households, certain names and certain social standing had a duty. It has been drummed into you since you can remember. That had only acted to make you more determined not to live like that.

You were free, he'd told you himself and yet you couldn't help but sit here; consumed by hopelessness.

Not for yourself surely, but for him. He now had to live the life you dread.

Maybe you should have said you'd marry him, put your selfishness aside and given him a friend in marriage instead of a stranger but it was too late now. Any hope of saving him was out of your reach, all you could do was watch as he made the biggest mistake of his life.

He should be with someone who knows when he's upset just by the look in his wide eyes, who knows each crease in his face when it crinkles when he smiles, who knows each line of his secret tattoos he always keeps hidden. He needs someone he can be himself with, someone who would do anything to see him happy, someone who would do everything to protect him and keep him safe. Someone he can have adventures with as well as make tough decisions with, someone who will bear him beautiful children and raise them to be just as loving and kind as him. He deserves all that and more. 

Miss what's-her-name will never be able to give him that. She'll never be good enough. She'll never know what he wants or needs, not like you would.

You know him better than anyone. You could make him happy. So why wouldn't he pick you?

If he's not choosing for love why wouldn't you be first choice, surely that's obvious. Then again, why should you want him to choose you? 

You were free to marry whoever you wanted. So, why now did the thought of Jungkook marrying her weigh you down with a rock in your gut, consuming you, making it impossible for you to move without thinking of anything other than her being with him. Touching him. Possibly loving him. Being his wife and her stomach being full with his children. 

Why did it burn you so much you could hardly breath? Clawing for air with ragged breaths, you had to uproot your feet from their planted spot and go. Go anywhere the sickening sight of them wasn't, the last image of them walking through the palace gardens hand in hand was enough to overflow the salty dam in your eyes, crumbling with your resolve to hold it in. Your realisation, as you turn away from him, hitting you like a ton of bricks. 

The blanket of night that had been covering you - concealing you from the light, from the truth, had finally been lifted. 

How could you not have seen it? 

How could you not have known?

The way he could make you smile through anything, or the way your stomach fluttered sometimes in his presence, or the way he knew you better than anyone and always seemed to know what you were thinking. 

He was your glowing, peaceful moon lighting up the dark sky.  The colourful morning sunrise, warming the chill of the night. The roots of your tree, keeping you grounded and yet the bright blossoms in the field bringing you comfort. 

After all these years...you finally understood.

You tuck a stray strand of hair behind Charlotte’s ear, the action almost mechanical, something you should do as opposed to something you want to. 

With y/n it was an excuse to feel her skin against your fingers, a chance to give her a caring caress and a subtle way to show her how you care. It fell on deaf ears or blind eyes, rather. All your efforts to show her your feelings, to attempt to get her to notice your heart, wide open and ready for the taking, went unnoticed. Maybe you should have uttered the words into her ear one day, laying in the meadow, basking under the sun.

But you didn’t. 

You’ve made your decision. It’s Charlotte. She is to be your wife and your queen. 

Perhaps, one day, you might feel something more deeply than the awkward discomfort making your toes curl. After all, tomorrow you will be standing in the palace with an audience and a live broadcast as you announce your bride and their queen to be. 

It's your duty, there's no escaping it, you know this. And yet, your chest is weighed down, tight with an anchor pulling you underwater as you fight and kick against the waves of emotions crashing against you. Clawing your way to the surface and fighting for breath as hopelessness fills your lungs. The box your heart was kept in for her, now feels like an empty cage. Hollow. She left, not physically but in spirit, and took your beating organ with her, the life slowly draining in her absence.

But here you are still standing, unable to give up and let go. 

You had to. You needed to move on and away from her, perhaps one day you'll be able to stop picturing her face, hearing her laugh or the smell of her skin.

Your agonising thoughts running rampant in your mind made you want to scream up at the sky. At a god you were rapidly losing faith in.

You needed to be alone and get yourself together. 

You made your excuses, apologising to your fiancé - an invisible noose around your neck pulling tight from the very thought of who she was to you and who she would be for the rest of your life - and left, albeit rather abruptly. 

Rushing to the stables and guiding your horse out of palace grounds, racing away from decision making and royal duty.

The wind against your face, cool air relentless as you speed across fields but cooling your burning skin, ablaze with frustration. The sound of hooves thundering against the ground seem to echo out around you in otherworldly quiet, giving away your position to everyone. 

They'll search for you soon, you know this but you just need to breathe. You need to feel your lungs expanding and shrinking on their own, moving how they should, without barbed wire squeezing around them, digging in with every draw in of air and stopping you short. 

You needed a last moment of freedom, before the tight noose of your responsibilities squeezed around your neck and choked you.

Your breathing came hard and harsh as you pushed your horse as fast as he could go, until the meadow came into view, your meadow and hers. You'd ended up here, again. This special place, holding so many memories.

You climb off your horse and sink down into the grass, each blade a page of remembrance tying the two of you together. A bond you thought indestructible and yet, here you are desperately clinging onto her in fistfuls of grass.

You understood, your life is on the cusp of changing forever, no going back, it's a life she cannot be a part of in the same way. Of course she'd want to move away from it all, if you could…it's irrelevant because you can't.

Duty to country before anything and everything else. Being a good ruler should be your main concern right now. And yet, you are plagued with the thought…'what if i had told her?' 

What if.

Would it have made any difference? Probably not.

Would your friendship have been ruined? Probably.

But at least, if you had been brave enough to utter the words, even once, then you wouldn't feel as incomplete as you do right now. On your knees, gripping onto the turf as if to hold you in place, head against the ground and eyes squeezed shut.

If there's one last thing you should say, even to unburden yourself after all these years and remove the heavy shawl of emotion that’s been draped across your shoulders, weighing you down, it should be your truth. Finally.

Not for any expectation of reciprocation but to know that you did everything you could. No regrets when you look back at the choice you've had to make.

Just the truth.

The horse was already moving as you had one foot in the rung of the saddle and the other straddling across it. 

"Jungkook's missing." The words from the royal advisor replay anxiously in your head, making your heart pound violently against your ribs, playing its own panicked score.

He left the palace hours ago on his horse and hasn't been seen since. The way your gut twists at the direction your thoughts take has your fists clenched painfully around the reigns.

You bolt out of the palace gates, hoping you know exactly where he'll be. 

Trees whip past you at alarming speed but you dare not slow down. You need him to be ok. You need him to hear what you have to say. You need him.

Scanning the distance frantically, looking for the break in the trees, revealing the meadow, your heart almost stops when your eyes finally land upon it. 

You spot his horse first, then see his hunched figure leaning over in the grass and fear takes your heart and locks it in a vice grip so painful tears fill your wild eyes.

You're already climbing off before the hooves have stilled.

"Jungkook!" You hear his name in a strangled scream and realise it's you the distraught voice has escaped from.

As you sprint in his direction, he sits straight up, surprised eyes shooting up to you and relief washes over you like rough waves crashing against the shore.

Your body collides heavily with his, a thump sounding out all around you into the usually calming silence. The air leaves his lungs in a hiss as he's flung backwards to the ground. 

You squeeze your arms around him, holding him so close and so tight, frightened he'll be carried off into the wind like the seeds from the dandelion puff balls surrounding you.

His arms hesitantly wrap around your waist as if worried you'll break. 

You pull yourself back to look at his beautiful face, to make sure he's ok and in one piece but the shock that widens his doe-like eyes momentarily distracts you.

"Y/n, what's wrong!?" He fusses, wiping softly at your tear trails with gentle thumbs. Cradling your face in his hands, worry lines wrinkling his forehead as if he has reason to worry about you.

Hot tears fall fervently from your eyes, unable to be stopped. You smile at him, tracing his smooth cheekbones and sharp jawline with your fingers. 

Seeing him and looking into his eyes in this moment, it's undeniable your heart belongs to him.

How you never realised is truly mind blowing, it's so obvious now, all your confusing thoughts and feelings towards this entire situation suddenly made clear. 

Overwhelmed to the point your chest is so full of him it feels ready to burst, sprinkling your special place with heart-shaped confetti etched with his name. 

"I have to tell you something, before it's too late." You say taking a deep breath and straightening your back with determination, as you sit almost on his lap.

His worrying eyes search yours, frantically going from one to the other, trying to read you, trying to find answers to unasked questions.

"Over the past few weeks, I've been trying to understand...all of the memories we've made, and the places we've spent time together, they're very special to me, I hope you know that? I hold them very dear. And I was afraid of you having this other person to share them with and that i would be pushed out —"

"Y/n, I would never do that." He insisted, cupping your face in his hand. He means it too, it's written all over his face, your own personal scripture of truth.

"I know." You say softly, smiling and interrupting him before you lose your nerve to continue. "My point is, I thought it was the idea of being replaced by her that was bothering me so much but I realised something…I've been an absolute idiot." You laugh to yourself, feeling freer than ever. 

He stares back at you with bewildered amusement.

"It's never been where we were or what we did that made everything so special...it was you. You are the centre of it all. You're the person who knows me better than anyone. You're the one who makes me endlessly and purely happy. You make me feel safe and protected. You are...home. Everything makes sense when you’re by my side. Wherever you are, I want to be. Whether that be as your wife, your queen or just your friend...if your decision is still to be with Charlotte, I will support you throughout —"

"Wait, I'm confused. At the fountain the other day,  you were distraught at the idea of marrying me, you were relieved when I told you I wouldn't choose you?"

You look down at your hands that are now in your lap, ashamed you didn't realise then in that moment what is so clear to you now. 

"I didn't understand then. But I wasn't relieved, my heart felt like it was caving in on itself. I didn't want to be in the running because I never thought you'd choose me. I told myself I didn't want you to, I didn't want to be a part of it, when the actual truth of it is I wanted to be your only choice, not the best out of a bad bunch but I couldn't face the idea that you might not choose me."

You feel your cheeks tinge crimson from your words, feeling sheepish for your naivety. 

You peek up at him shyly through your lashes. He's frozen and wide eyed, staring at you curiously.

"So what exactly are you saying y/n? So I can understand this correctly." His quiet, breathy voice makes your heart pound faster and harder than ever. Each thrum vibrating through you with the sound of his name to accompany its beat.

You gulp loudly, digging deep for your last ounce of courage, to utter the words. To say them out loud makes it real, equally as the possibility of affirmation or rejection. You take another breath, your eyes meeting his, those pools of ebony you could so easily get lost in. "I'm in love with you."

The silence that follows is almost deafening as you prepare yourself for a sweet, gentle refusal. But you're perplexed when you see his perfect lips upturn and stretch, beaming at you like a ray of sunshine. He moves forward to you quickly, you lean in anticipating his next words. But when his lips crush against yours instead, it doesn’t register for a moment or two, you stiffen before your body's primal response takes over and your hands find their way up into his hair, skating your fingers through his silky locks.

The feel of his soft mouth on yours was undeniably alluring, pulling you in deeper with each movement of his lips. Your heart pounds frantic in your chest as the feel of his hands around your waist, holding you flush against him, your bodies moulded tight almost as one was enough to enthral you entirely. When he abruptly pulls back, you feel cold and needy. Your heart, now an open wound, seared by his kiss, bleeding love uncontrollably. 

He holds your face in his hands, foreheads touching and breathing heavy. “How I have longed to hear you say those words.” He whispers.

Your eyes bulge at his admission but as you open your mouth to speak, he lifts a finger against your lips to silence you. 

“I didn’t believe in love, not until I met you. I could only ever imagine a life and a marriage destined to be only friendly and passionless. But I have loved you since that first summer we met and I have wished everyday since for you to feel even a fraction of the way I do for you.” 

He tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering gently on the skin of your neck. “Tell me again.” He pleads.

“I love you.” You lean forward and kiss him again. “I love you.” You utter the words between quick, desperate kisses causing him to groan against your mouth. His arm snakes around your waist and the ground leaves you, air breezing through your hair. You’re on your feet before you know it and your gaze is drawn downwards to him, in front of you, on one knee. 

He tightly grips your hand in both of his. “I have waited long enough for you. I saw a glimpse of a world without you by my side and it was monochrome and cold. I don’t want that. I want to see the colours when you look at me and smile so sweetly. I need to hear your laugh, my personal symphony. And if you would take my hand and walk the path into tomorrow and forever with me as my wife and my Queen, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make yours as colourful and joyous as mine will be. Marry me, please?”

You feel hot tears sting your eyes as happiness blooms deep in your chest. A bright orange tiger flower blossoming for him, a beacon of light and joy calling to you, showing you your rightful and chosen path. All these wasted years shall be no more and new ones accompanied by new memories await.

“Yes!”

[tangledinmdzs]

with you - junior quartet hcs

juniors reaction when you die in their arms

warning: major sad vibes  please read at your own discretion

i am personally a very fluffy person and try to make my blog as such. but sometimes we crave a tad bit of angst in our lives

so here it is.

≿————-　❈　————-≾

Lan Sizhui

you can’t help the tear that rolls down your cheek

it’s the only warmth that you can truly feel

especially when everything, even your skin

was beginning to numb

“don’t close your eyes,” 

you hadn’t realized that you were doing that in the first place,

you don’t know where you get the strength to pull your eyelids open again, but when you look up

you’re glad that it’s to something familiar

“Sizhui...” you breathe out, feeling your breath choked on something from inside

“s-save your energy, y/n” 

you’d never heard Sizhui stutter before 

perhaps this demon curse was scarier than you thought

and the curiosity lends enough strength for you to find his face again,

maybe if you focused hard enough, you could feel how tightly his arms were wrapped around you

how close he was holding you to him

but you can’t feel anything, anymore

you blink rapidly, looking up trying to meet his eyes

though you can only see the bottom of his chin, barely follow the way that his head flickers here and there for help

“Sizhui...i’ll be alright...”

at your voice Sizhui looks down, and his tear filled eyes meet your blank, dulling ones

how is it, even in this moment, 

you were still the one reassuring him

“y/n...”

“it’ll be alright...” you tell him, just as the darkening edges of your vision take over

when your eyes close, Sizhui feels like his own breath stops

his hand lands on your face, thumb catching on the final tear that rolls gently down your face,

he leans his head down to meet yours, 

and he cries too

≿————-　❈　————-≾

Lan Jingyi

Jingyi’s soft hiccuping tears has been your company for the past few hours, 

along with the drip drip of water in the desolate temple you were both trapped in

your blood that was once warm has stained both of your hands, red and bright

now it dripped in tandem with the water from somewhere in the temple, a small puddle at your side

the shallower your breath gets, the more Jingyi cries, his tears and hiccups mixing with pure fear

Jingyi doesn’t think that there is anything that can help him regain himself, his mind, not when you were this hurt, this injured, 

this close to-

he feels your warm, blood slicked hand land on his

Jingyi jolts hard at the contact, looking down to you right away

luckily he finds your eyes immediately, staring up at him

he’s grateful that you’re still awake, though there’s a haziness that’s setting into your stare

“...at the very least...i’m not alone,” 

“you didn’t think that i would leave you here, by yourself, did you?” Jingyi stutters out at you

he can’t understand if it was your heroism talking or you were simply that stupid

you take in another breath, though it doesn’t travel as deeply into your lungs as you want to

“...you should of-”

“and what then? who’d help you? who’d get you out of here?” 

Jingyi’s voice sounds borderline hysteric, which is why your calm, soft voice dulls everything,

“...there was never an exit for me...when i took on this mission,”

Jingyi stares down at you, finds your eyes then 

he sees the acceptance in them, something that he was never prepared for

a fast tear rolls down his face, following the previous tear tracks that have already wet his skin

he can barely feel it when your blood slicked hand gently covers his, pressing down on your wound

he can barely hear the smallest ‘thank you’ that you breathe out to him, your final breath

only when you go still in his arms, blood seeping onto his robes does Jingyi let out an anguished, desperate cry

the temple hears his wails, echoing in the vast chambers

cradling your warm body, Jingyi wonders how there was any god that could be so cruel 

≿————-　❈　————-≾

Jin Ling

Jin Ling has never run this fast in his life

but now he was running like his life depended on it

actually, he ran as fast because your life depended on it

and that would be equivalent if not more than his own life

a hard shiver from your body in his arms almost makes him lose his balance, but he holds you close, pushing on in the night as the moon sits high on the sky

this night hunt had gone wrong

so wrong in so many ways

but Jin Ling would not

be adding your name to the casualty list

the thought of anything worse happening to you makes him misstep

and much to his fear, you both fall to the ground

he’d manage to bracket much of his body around yours, taking the brunt of the impact

but when he sits up, you’re deadly still in his arms

“y/n-y/n” he shakily calls, holding your shoulders than your face, 

you don’t respond right away and he’s fearful

“y/n!!” he shouts

and your eyes open slowly, blinking up at him almost in confusion

he’s relieved that your eyes have opened, but your skin is sickly pale, your qi fighting inside you from the demon’s mantra

Jin Ling knows that the sooner he gets you back to the camp the sooner you would get help

so he doesn’t hesitate wrapping his arms around you to pick you up again

but you wither in pain, hiccuping out a small moan as he tried to so much as lift you

“h-hurts,” you whimper out and Jin Ling holds you closer to him, letting you hide your face in the juncture of his neck

his hands rub rapidly up and down your arms when you stutter our a breathy, ‘cold’ despite the warm night 

“we need to go get help,” Jin Ling tries to tell you but your ‘no’ overlaps with how hard you begin to shiver 

in a final desperate attempt, Jin Ling holds your head steady, wrapping his entire cloak around the both of you to conserve warmth

“y-you can’t, you can’t leave me too. i can’t lose you too y/n” Jin Ling stutters out his voice cracking as the fear of losing you finally dawns on

held this close in his arms, you want to reassure him, want to do more than cling onto his robe sleeves and dig your nose into skin

but before you can

you qi is involuntarily sealed

and the rest of your body, feels the depths of fire and the sharpest of ice cold all at once

you barely have time to hear his scream of your name

you don’t have time to say goodbye

≿————-　❈　————-≾

Ouyang Zizhen

“the blossoms are beautiful today, aren’t they?”

your voice is softer today than usual, reminisce and melancholy despite the young age that you are

both of your young ages

sat with you in his arms, Zizhen leans his head on top of yours gently, arms encompassing you as the cool spring breeze passes by the open awning of your bed chambers

when Zizhen looks down at you, he watches the little smile appear on your face as you stare out at the scenery, the awakening of new life just around the corner

Zizhen keeps his eyes on you, takes in the look of your profile against the backdrop of the cherry blossoms of the small villa

many had always said that the had looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky, pulled up the sun when morning came and whispered to the moon for a little extra light at night time

Zizhen had always watched you with a look of love, of deep love for you

some people say that it might just be the honeymoon stage

since you both were married so young and have barely had a year together

but 

Zizhen feels (knows) that he will always love you

despite the young age

despite the fast marriage

despite your illness

when a particularly hard cough racks your body, Zizhen quickly tightens his arms around you, fixing his cloak tighter around your already warm robes

you manage a small smile when you catch your breath, leaning back into him,

he feels your weight on him, though you’re much lighter than he’d like you to be

“we should go inside now, the wind can’t be good for you after a long time,” Zizhen tries to persuade you but when he looks down to catch your little pout, he finds it hard to even heed his own words

“i’ve always seen the blossoms from far away, never this close. let’s stay a little while more Zhen-Zhen” you tell him

the dwindling amount of time that you had left with him had always loomed over the both of you ever since that fateful day a few months ago, from the physician’s words

that had be the first and only time that you had seen Zizhen cry about your illness with you, when you were feeling most despondent

he had never cried again since

doesn’t want to fill the remaining moments with you in his life with tears and sadness

wants to remember you happy

so he lets you stay out despite his heart beating too rapidly in his chest, and his mind whirring with what to tell the cooks to make for when you come inside later

“Zhen-Zhen,” you call, even though he’s really close to you

Zizhen looks down at you, gives a small half smile when you lean your head down closer into his chest

small smiles are what you are both often accustomed to nowadays

“i love you my sun and sky,” you whisper eyes closed as you feel his warmth surround you

Zizhen lets out a little funny huff, wrapping his arms tighter around you

“i love you more, my moon and stars,” Zizhen replies just as gently 

because you’re so close, he feels the moment that your final breath puffs against the column of his neck,

feels the different kind of stillness of your body in his arms

and Zizhen knows, he knows that his time with you was always meant to end sooner than later

but it doesn’t change the fact

that he will never be ready it

Zizhen closes his eyes, presses a final kiss onto the crown of your head

though his arms can’t find it in himself to let you go

[imagine-that-one-thing]

Rise Of Glory || 6

Again, it cries, and again, and again.

Harry and I wander to the cobble steps to his mother's house, Alex asleep in Harry's arms from the long drive. The drive was quiet, not because I am tired but because I don't know what to say at this point. Nothing I do or say is going to change things or make anything better. I am at a loss.

The door opens, and his mother stands in the doorway, bewildered by our sudden appearance. I don't blame her. It is unlike us to abruptly show up on her doorstep. Most of the time, Harry gives her a heads up.

She grants us her routine tender smile and ushers us inside.

"What brings you two here suddenly?" Harry's Mum questions.

I glance towards Harry, curious as to what he plans to tell her. Telling your mother you only came to visit to see a grave is not something you'd want to admit out loud or at all.

"Uh," Harry clears his throat, "The media have swarmed my building and are starting to come out at the house. We came here to get a break," Harry answers, opening his arms to half-hug his mother, who he has missed dearly, he won't admit it, but he has. He may hate having to come to Cheshire, I don't think that will ever change, but he loves having his mother back in his life at a more constant and healthier level. Their relationship has improved tremendously since I came here when we first started dating all those years ago. I still remember that weekend like yesterday.

It was the weekend I realised that the man I was falling in love with gives everything he has, mentally, emotionally and physically, to his mother and sisters wellbeing. He'd allow himself to drown a million times if it meant his family could stay afloat.

"I'm going to put him down," Harry informs his mother and me, giving me a tired smile before walking past me and down the hallway towards Harry's old bedroom.

Harry's Mum peers over towards me, her brows furrowing and her lips pursing; I can tell her thoughts are ticking away and that something is playing intensely on her mind. She has the same expression Harry has when he wants to say something but leaves the words on the tip of his tongue, unsure of whether to say them or not.

I cock my head to the side, debating myself whether to give her the go-ahead to tell me whatever is on her mind.

"He's lying to me," Anne bluntly states before I can figure out how to ask her what's on her mind, "You had to have left at around 3 in the morning to be here by now. He's tired, almost like he hasn't slept in days," she points out, "And you… you look exhausted too. I don't believe it's the media at your house that caused you both to drive up here… I'm not complaining. I'm just… I'm curious."

"It has been a long week for him. He wanted to get away." I don't know who I am trying to convince more, myself or her.

"He hates it here with a passion. I have seen the articles."

I nod, agreeing with her. She knows the truth. Harry doesn't bother trying to hide the fact that he still hates this place. Even when we first started dating, he made it known he wasn't happy to be back. His home town brings back memories he doesn't want to remember, especially when he and his relationship with his mother were strained to the point they weren't speaking at all. "This is where he wanted to come."

"But it isn't where he wants to be… he hates it up here… are things that bad in London?" She questions softly, and I can't help but nod. She looks me up and down and bites her lip for a moment, almost as if she's holding back whatever thoughts are racing through her thoughts, "Are you and Harry okay? You're not fighting or?"

"We're fine," I immediately cut her off, "It's the business and the media that's pushing him off the rails."

"Mhm," she hums, "And you, are you okay?"

I give her a small smile and nod, "I'm okay."

"You're lying."

"Anne—"

"Honey, don't take this the wrong way, but you look exhausted. Have you slept at all?"

"It's been a rough few months," I softly respond, "It has taken a lot out of me."

The last three months have been an absolute roller coaster, mentally, emotionally and physically. I'm not quite sure how I've managed to keep things together to the extent I have. There are still days I feel like the world's weight is so heavily on me that I can't breathe. There are days I feel like I'm drowning and can't pull myself away. There are the days I feel like I'm finally okay and can breathe, but the second I manage to come up for air, there's something to pull me down, whether it's work-related, family-related or past related.

"Why didn't you call? Harry kept saying you were fine."

"I have been fine," I respond softly.

In all honesty, I have been fine… kind of. I'm as fine as what can be expected, considering the events that have happened. I'm not going to lie, I may be fine, but I'm still very much up and down when it comes to things. There are good days, and there are bad days.

"If you ever need me, I'm just a call away. You know that, right?" She offers me her sweet, caring smile that has always assured me of tough times and situations.

"Yes, I know."

"Okay, go get yourself some sleep."

"I have work I need to do once I get my laptop out of the car. We might be up here, but the business doesn't stop just because we aren't there."

"Well, at the very least, take a seat on the couch, put your feet up and relax for a minute. Let me at least make you some tea."

"You're too kind to me," I smile towards her.

"You're kind to my son. It's the least I can do for my darling daughter-in-law," she beams.

Anne hands me a steaming cup of tea as I answer a few emails from my phone, too tired to go out and get my laptop. "I have one last question."

"Mhm," I hum, waiting for her to ask what is on her mind.

"What happened to his hand?"

"Oh, he was washing dishes and somehow cut his hand," I tell her the truth.

I don't think it is my place to tell her about Logan or that Harry might be losing his mind. Right now, it is up to Harry to speak to her and want to talk about things. I cannot force him. You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink. Harry will speak when he feels like speaking, and he will tell his mother when he is ready and on his terms.

I don't think I should be the one to tell her that we made the long drive up here just because Harry can't wrap his head around the fact Logan has risen from the dead. No mother wants to hear that as a reason as to why their son has finally visited.

I wish I could say that we visit here often for good occasions, but it is far from the truth. We come up here for holidays, and that is as far as it goes. I have made the drive a few times with Alex to get away from the city, but that has been on rare occasions. Harry doesn't like the idea of me making the drive on my own, and he hates having to come up here. We have settled on staying away from Cheshire and having his mother visit us when she can. I do wish things were a bit different. I do wish we lived closer to his Mum or came up here often. I think it would benefit Harry to be around his mother more and have a family sense. He has my family, but it is different. His mother is irreplaceable, and I know that deep down, he misses his sister. They may not be on the best of terms right now, but I know he loves and misses her.

When Alex is a little older, I would often like to bring him up here to see the neighbours' baby animals. He would love playing with the goats and picking fresh farm eggs, which is not as usual in our life. He would be thrilled to run the fields without a care in the world, a completely different environment compared to home. We have a lot of space for him to run around at home but nothing like the countryside.

❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈

With Harry's fingers laced with my own, I pass the identical headstones that I passed in November of 2021, on the same day we buried Logan.

Nothing has changed about the cemetery. It's still as uncanny and ill-fitting as it was that day. The headstones are still cracked and withered with the voyage of seasons. It is a shame how the graves fade away. It's almost as though since these souls have left earth, nobody cares enough to fix up the graves that have cracked and deteriorated. It bothers me now like it did the day I walked through here a few years ago.

This cemetery is old, at least over 100 years old. I remember noticing some of the inscriptions when I was here last dated back to the 1800s. These monument stones of cold, decaying cement have presumably observed more people and tears of melancholy and exuberance than one could probably picture. And yet, nobody can take the time to take care of the graves. There are scarcely any flowers on the graves.

It disheartens me that as I escort past all these graves, I still feel saddened even years later because we pass by people who have once lived and wandered this very earth.

"Harry, are you sure it's this way?" I challenge as we pass another row of headstones.

I can't tell if my anxiousness tells me we have gone too far or if we need just to leave and go back home. Part of me doesn't want to wander any further than what we have. After all, walking through grave yeards is always eerie.

"I'm sure I know where my dead brother is buried," Harry grimly mutters, "I was here for it." Harry reminds me of the day he endured.

"No need to be so… morbid," I inform him, doing my best to keep my voice low. We don't need an argument in the middle of a cemetery, even if he is a dickhead.

I stop in my tracks, and Harry turns to glance at me as his hand leaves mine, "Why are you stopping?" Harry questions, and I can't help but take a moment to take in his features as a distraction.

I don't know how to tell him that I don't feel comfortable walking in this cemetery, I don't want to go any further, and I don't think this is a beneficial approach. Nothing good ever comes from this place. I push away my thoughts and feelings, "I couldn't remember if I checked on Alex before we left," I lie. I know I checked on Alex before we left. He was still asleep and cuddled up to his teddy bear.

"We both did, love. Mum knows what she's doing, and you know that, relax," Harry responds, kissing my cheek before lacing his fingers back with mine and beginning to walk again.

Harry and I come to an abrupt standstill, and the two of us become withdrawn while we take in the view of what's in front of us. Harry squeezes my hand gently, and I can't help but squeeze back, a small amount of reassurance for him to know that I am right here and that I can see the same thing he can see.

The deafening silence is intruded abruptly and without signal by the ghastly screech of a blackened crow— the same intense screech that I swear I first heard once Logan was buried in this plot.

Again, it cries, and again, and again.

I shiver as a tingle operates through my body, the character of the crow sounding like nails on a chalkboard. This is the same place I stood in years ago when the crow first screeched—Harry was squatting by the grave, gazing at the soil, and I was standing right here.

I take a breath of the crisp air, and my eyes immediately cast themselves on the crow that is shrieking. Its relentless stare catches my own before I take note that it isn't alone. Harry and I are outnumbered and are intently observed by one… two... three… four… five crows, possibly six; I can't tell if the shadow in the distant tree is one of them or not. Either way, I wish we had never come here. They say if you see five crows, sickness will follow; see six crows, and death will follow.

A gust of wind whisks past us, settling brittle, dead leaves to dance around our shoes to take my gaze away from the crows. I watch the leaves swing around our feet, twirling around us like vines, almost as though they're tightening around our feet and ready to pull us down. I caress my hand to my stomach as I observe the leaves tumbling, leaving me with a heavy feeling in my stomach that twists, knots, and tightens like the motions of the leaflets. The breeze declines, and the leaves become motionless.

I gaze back towards where the first crow was, only to find it gone, leaving me with nothing but an unsettling uneasiness in the pit of my stomach and an abandoned grave of where Logan used to rest.

[asphyxiateher]

Only Monsters Come Out at Night

Chapter 5: I’ll Tell You My Sins So You Can Sharpen Your Knife

Summary: Desdemona is slowly losing herself but survival is still critical, especially when she must spend time with Daniela alone. A/N: Thank you all for the support, I’ve been busy with work but this story in my head needs to be written so I can get it out of my system. lol I’ll polish and edit this when I can. :) 

           To say the previous night was eventful would be an understatement but to Cassandra’s credit, she did not push for more than what Desdemona was willing to give. Now, Desdemona wasn’t saying that Cassandra was gentle or pleasant when she declined engaging in more intimate activities, but Cassandra understood the meaning of “no” and backed off in exchange for learning more about Desdemona. The smaller girl thought she was being clever by saying she would only get physical with her if they took the time to get to know each other better first and she was surprised when Cassandra reluctantly agreed. Des introduced Cassandra to the laptop she had brought with her on their trip and the woman was in absolute awe of the power of modern-day technology. She had begun explaining about what movies were and what she currently had downloaded onto her pc when Cassandra astonished Desdemona with a personal question.

“What brought you all the way out here in the first place anyway, Little One? Don’t get me wrong, you’re the most fascinating group of visitors we’ve had in such a long time, but for a pretty face like you to be stranded out here on your own with me? Seems foolish.” Cassandra asked as she lay on the bed next to Desdemona who suddenly snapped her laptop shut.

“Desmond and I graduated from college and we had money saved up to go embark on what was supposed to be a memorable adventure. I’ve always been into horror and science fiction movies as well as novels and comic books so I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to tour the castle that inspired Bram Stoker’s Dracula, one of my favorite classics. Look how well that turned out.” Desdemona says bitterly, nervously fiddling with her fingers.

Cassandra attempted to reach out and wrap her fingers around Desdemona’s hand, but she became hesitant and pulled back instead as if she were unsure if the gesture would be welcome.

“Your brother is dead. That is something we cannot undo but I understand your anger. Bela and Daniela are trying at times, but I do love them more than anything really. I have the power to kill at will and I will not falter should anything happen to my dear sisters. You, on the other hand, are persevering in a way that’s admirable, Desdemona. You are innocent and you want to survive. You are stronger for that more than you’ll ever know.” Cassandra tells her quietly, her teeth wedged between her lips as though she may have said too much to her human plaything.

Desdemona was taken aback by what Cassandra had said and it must have shown on her face because Cassandra suddenly looked irritated with how deep the conversation was going.

“If you are not going to allow me the pleasures of your flesh, then allow me to drink from you as I’m quite parched!” She snarled before she pounced on top of Desdemona, her razor-sharp teeth flashing dangerously. One minute, she’s howling in pain the moment Cassandra pierces through her skin and begins drinking her blood and the very next, she passes out from the blood loss while still laying underneath the ill-tempered vampire. She sleeps for a few hours, only stirring awake when she feels a comfortable presence beside her. She groggily opens her eyes only to find Veronica staring at her, concern clearly etched on her face.

“Shh, shh hey, you’re okay now, Dezzy. C’mere, let me take a look at you. You were tossing and turning the whole time after they brought you back down here. I don’t know what they did to you, but we can switch places if you’d like. I think Lady Dimitrescu might take a liking to you.” Veronica says jokingly as she runs shaky fingers through Desdemona’s tangled locks.

Desdemona sighs at the contact and smiles at her best friend’s attempt to soothe her.

“That’s funny, V. Not sure I fancy calling my dentist and canceling all future appointments ‘cause I found a titan of woman with big tits to pull all my teeth for me. Nah, I think I’ll stick to reluctantly donating my blood to three horny vampire women, thank you very much.” Desdemona scoffs out a laugh when Veronica playfully swats at her arm.

“Fuck off, it was only a few teeth and yeah, that crazy bitch has got fists the size of hams so of course she can knock them straight out of me!” Veronica exclaimed. “Ugh. I’ll be honest though Des, I’m scared. Not for me ‘cause I know what’s coming if I keep putting up a fight, but I’m scared for you.” She continues, her voice now a whisper as she lays down on the cold hard stone floor and placing her hand on top of Desdemona’s.

“I’m scared for both of us. Why aren’t you more worried about you?” Desdemona squeezes her best friend’s hand and rests her head against Veronica’s shoulder.

 “You’re being forced to entertain three vampires who could bleed you dry the way Elizabeth Bathory did her victims. The way they manhandle you and take occasional sips from you is fucking horrific! I don’t understand how you’re not freaking out over it.” Veronica licks her chapped lips and glances back at Desdemona. “These could be our very last moments alive together. I need you to promise me that you will look for weaknesses that we can use against them. Fight for your right to live, babes, fight for Desmond the way he would have wanted us to. We can’t keep taking what they’re giving us, it will kill us.”

Deep down, Desdemona knew her best friend was right but how could she expect her to put up a fight against three undead creatures that can transform into a massive ball of insects at any given time? She felt so helpless and utterly alone in the way that made her feel insignificant next to her best friend. Veronica was fearless in the face of death and Desdemona felt like a coward. She wanted to survive this ordeal so badly, she practically groveled in submission to be spared from any form of punishment and observing the bruises and cuts along on V’s skin, she felt so incredibly guilty for not putting up a hard enough fight.

 “V, I don’t know how to explain it. I want to get out of here as much as you do, but as soon as my mind tells me to do something logical, I do the exact opposite. It’s like I do not want any of Alcina’s daughters to hate me, so I go out of my way to please them. It’s driving me crazy, and I don’t know if I’m just weak willed when it comes to them but fuck it…I just don’t want to die.” Desdemona admits, turning her head to face Veronica who meets her gaze at the same time.

 “Nothing wrong with wanting to live a little longer but don’t throw away your dignity for these monsters who don’t give a flying fuck about you. From what the countess herself has said about her daughters is that they entertain whatever pretty little maiden comes their way for a minute before they get bored and eat their corpse when they’re done. Don’t let them belittle you, use you, and kill you when you’re worth more than you’ll ever know.” Veronica tells her before placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. Feeling renewed, Desdemona continues to enjoy the few moments of peace with her best friend before they hear the dreaded sound of heels clicking in the dungeon.

“Well, cur, you know what it’s time for and you’ll be delighted to know I have so many wonderful things to show you. Get up, and brace yourself because after this, I guarantee you that you will not be the same after today.” Alcina declares as she unlocks the chamber door to their room.

Veronica grudgingly sits up and sighs, squeezing Desdemona’s hands one last time before standing. “Alcina, what a lovely surprise. I was just beginning to miss you, my lady. Oh, how I’ve been withering away down here knowing that I’ve gone a day without a beating. Thank you oh so much for finally blessing us with your presence.” Veronica says with a smirk only for it to be smacked off her face a second later.

“Silence, heathen! You will speak only when spoken to. For now, you will only be required to observe and shadow a maiden I no longer have use for. As for you, Desdemona, Daniela will be waiting in the library. Do not keep her waiting, dear.” Alcina says ominously, a chill running down Desdemona’s spine at the mere mention of her youngest daughter’s name.

Veronica casts her a fleeting sympathetic look before they both follow Lady Dimitrescu out of the cellar. Once they had gone their separate ways, Desdemona’s anxiety climbed to seemingly immeasurable heights. She came out of her previous encounters with lady Dimitrescu’s other daughters alive so that was good, but what of Daniela? She already gave off the impression that she was delusional and violent when provoked so Desdemona’s chance of survival at this rate was questionable at best.

When Desdemona arrived in front of the entrance to the library, she took a few deep breaths to calm herself. After a few more minutes of contemplating whether she should enter Daniela’s realm, she makes up her mind and crosses the threshold. Her jaw drops at the magnificent sight behold her. She’s in a vast circular room that is surrounded by sumptuous bookshelves and brilliant décor that has her almost envying the fact that this space belonged to someone like Daniela.

“Are you looking for me, darling? Come play with me, I’ll let you live in the meantime.” A shrill voice from behind one of the bookcases catches Desdemona off guard and she nearly trips over herself when she turns to find Daniela quickly approaching her.

“H-hi Daniela, I came to s-see you. How are you doing?” Desdemona asks as she continues to back away from the dangerous woman staring at her with the unmistakable look of hunger in her eyes. Daniela laughs uncontrollably and covers her mouth when she’s done. The red headed woman gives Desdemona an agonizingly slow once-over and licks her lips as though she were feeling ravenous at the sight.

“You’re so sweet to ask. You must have fallen hard for me, but you shouldn’t be surprised; everyone falls for me in time.” Daniela says in an almost sickeningly sweet voice. ‘Ok, so this fucking lunatic thinks you’re in love with her. Good, maybe she’d be less inclined to kill you.’ Desdemona thinks to herself, her back now pressed against a polished marble column.

“Y-yeah, I wanted to see you but only if you weren’t busy. I just thought you could use some company.” Des replies. This pleases Daniela immensely, so she takes a step closer to inhale the other girl’s scent. She was terrified and her blood smelled so delicious because of it. She needed to taste her, absorb everything that was Desdemona and revel in the symphony of her screams when she was done with her.

 “I could always use company, especially yours, my love. A few moments ago, I would have been just fine snuggling by the fireplace and having you read with me. Now that you’re here smelling quite tasty, there’s something else I want.” She says with a giggle before instantly making moves so that she was now only a few inches apart from Desdemona’s face.

Desdemona gasps when Daniela reveals her hidden sickle and suddenly tears a long cut through her shirt and pants. Moaning in ecstasy, Daniela begins to pick apart her torn clothing and caresses the smooth expanse of skin that was exposed to her. Desdemona shuts her eyes and turns her head to the side when the other woman lunges at her with an open mouth.

“Ugh, why are you rejecting me? Don’t you love me? Apologize at once and I’ll forgive you. Everybody makes mistakes.” Daniela whispers in a low, threatening tone. Desdemona feels tears begin to form when Daniela lowers her head and begins to suck and gently nibble on her neck. Veronica’s words come to mind about not putting up with whatever form of abuse they were going to give and she tries to summon every ounce of bravery she could muster. She pushes hard against Daniela and frees herself from her grasp. She twists and begins running in the other direction, not looking back at the crazed woman shrieking at her.

“Why are you doing this to me? I thought you loved me!” Desdemona was about to reach the doorway that led out of the library when a massive ball of insects appeared before her. She wasn’t able to react quickly enough so when she tried to turn again, she felt Daniela pounce on her from behind, tackling her to the floor. There was no use struggling against the immortal creature that perched herself on top of her so when Daniela forcefully flipped her onto her back, Desdemona saw her life flash before her eyes the moment Daniela raised her sickle, as if she were ready to swing at her. The logical part of her brain wanted this to end quickly, to spare herself from further embarrassment every time she pleaded for her life. But then there were dark whispers from an unknown entity, her broken survival instincts or those pesky intrusive thoughts perhaps, that were telling her to kiss Daniela in order to calm her down. She doesn’t know why or how it makes perfect sense but it does; Desdemona could either choose to die on her own terms or she could appease this goddess before her and worship her.

‘Where the hell are those thoughts coming from and why do I have a sudden urge to kiss Daniela? Gods help me.’ The frantic thoughts are the last to cross her mind as Desdemona leans up and yanks Daniela close to her level by her pendant.

Daniela’s eyes widen in surprise when she feels Desdemona’s lips press themselves against hers. After a few tense moments of not receiving the response she was hoping for, Desdemona begins pulling away but then she’s pulled back into a more frenzied, intense kiss. Daniela sighs against her mouth, her sickle dropping and causing the sound of metal clanging against the floor to echo in the room. When the need for air becomes too great for the smaller girl, she gently breaks the kiss and Daniela is suddenly looking at her with hooded eyes, desire visible in those beautiful golden hued orbs of hers. “Why did you run away from me? I hate it when my pretty playthings run away from me.” Daniela asks softly, the delicate tone in her voice surprising the both of them.

Desdemona’s voice wavers when she speaks, but she steadies herself by cautiously wrapping an arm around Daniela’s neck. She doesn’t know why she’s actively reaching out to touch the dangerous red-headed woman, she can’t explain why she’s craving for more contact, but she does and it’s scary as hell. “B-because I don’t want my f-first time with anyone to be meaningless. I’ve n-never gotten this close with anyone before and…I want it to be special. Call me old fashioned, but I’d rather you slit my throat right now before I give myself to you. I need to know you on a deeper level.” Desdemona’s cheeks are flushed a deep crimson color as she admits this, not knowing why she’s opening herself up like this to Daniela but those darker thoughts that linger somewhere in her mind are praising her.

Daniela takes a sharp breath in response to Desdemona’s words and quirks an eyebrow at the smaller girl. She was completely stunned by the revelation.

“Wait, you’re running away from me because you haven’t…not with anyone else before?” Daniela asked carefully.

Desdemona nods, wondering why this would matter to her at all. Daniela was going to slit her throat for wasting her time and-

“Oh Desdemona, why didn’t you tell me sooner? I didn’t mean to make you so nervous! Don’t get me wrong, I’m disappointed that I don’t get to make you mine tonight but I’m willing to wait for you. You’re my soulmate and if you want to get to know me before we get close, then we’ll do just that.” Daniela says, her voice huskier now than it was a moment ago. She reaches in between their pressed bodies and lowers her hand so now that her fingers were skimming along smooth skin until Daniela reaches Desdemona’s underwear.

 Underneath Daniela’s fierce, lust filled gaze, Desdemona moans into the other woman’s ear when she feels Daniela cup her womanhood possessively. This prompted Daniela to capture Desdemona’s lips in a ravenous kiss that left her feeling both thirsty and wanting more. The smaller girl, on the other hand, was quickly losing herself in the kiss, not understanding why the dark voices in her head were pressing her to do more. She couldn’t hear Veronica’s words of warning but instead sinister whispers that poisoned her thoughts. Desdemona was almost fully convinced to give herself to Daniela in that moment but then she remembers the conversation she had with her best friend earlier. This was all about survival, that’s all this should be about. She should not be indulging herself like this with these…creatures. ‘Your masters. Address them appropriately.’ The wicked voice in her head is not her own. Alarmed, Desdemona breaks the kiss with Daniela, who dives in again to lick Desdemona’s lips.

“Mmm, judging by the way you kissed me, you want me to be your first, don’t you? I can wait for you darling, but only if you promise that when you’re ready, you’ll come find me. Not Bela, not Cassandra nor my beautiful mother. I want to be the one to break you in. My sisters always get what they want but this, I want this more than anything. Pledge yourself to me.” Daniela murmurs darkly, her teeth gently nibbling on Desdemona’s earlobe.

Desdemona wants to shove her off and run away again while she has the chance. She wants to take Veronica’s hand and escape Castle Dimitrescu together. She just wants to go home, mourn her twin brother with her family and be somewhere safe and quiet and away from all of this.

Instead, Desdemona smiles at Daniela and tucks a few stray strands of red hair behind her ear. It was adorable how Daniela quickly leaned into the touch, a smile of her own gracing blood smeared lips.

“I’m yours, completely. I’ll take good care of you if you promise to do the same to me.” Desdemona says, her voice not following what her brain was trying to command her to say. ‘Kick, scream, run! Don’t let them control you, don’t let them compel you to do anything you don’t want to do –‘ ‘Obey. Listen to your masters, they own you and your body. You are theirs to do as they wish. You belong to them and nobody else. Do not disobey or you will be punished.’

There it was again, the sinister voice that did not belong to her and it was overwhelming.

Whatever rational thoughts Desdemona had as she continued to embrace Daniela in her arms had left. The last thing Desdemona remembers thinking about before she got up to join Daniela in her favorite corner to read was how much darker and menacing the bruises and hickeys all three sisters left on her skin were starting to look. They were deep red and purple, black spider veins were also beginning to sprout and spread throughout her body.

Were Lady Dimitrescu’s daughters subtly infecting her with some kind of disease or were they creating a bond with her every time they bit and clawed at her? Desdemona’s thoughts lingered on the last part before she uncharacteristically ignored what had just transpired between Daniela and herself. Ties had been indeed created but what Desdemona can’t help but wonder what the cost to sharing a dangerous bond with all three women was? She doesn’t think on it much longer as she’s seated on Daniela’s favorite couch and Daniela rests her head on Desdemona’s lap, a chosen book for her to read aloud in hand. Her mind is placated and the desire to please her Mistress takes over. Nothing else mattered anymore.

[delimeful]

Community Gardens

this is a donation drive commission for @htmlfroggy! based on the prompt: platonic intrulogical g/t & the song ‘community gardens’ by the scary jokes! this is my first time trying a songfic, so i hope its good!

warnings: remus and all the vaguely squicky things he says, illness, misunderstandings, small mentions of body horror

-

Full disclosure, I am a monster A creature of despair, not that that should be a cause for concern If there's one thing I've learned in all my years here It's that despair is less abundant in those who understand How to plant their hearts in community gardens

-

Logan first met his best friend because he was investigating rumors of a human lurking around the border of his forest. 

He had his doubts, of course; ever since he’d personally visited every human settlement on the perimeter of his woods, the ritual sacrifices done to ‘appease the monsters’ had quickly come to a halt, and the amount of angry humans out for vengeance had dropped concurrently. 

When he gently pushed past the boughs of the saplings marking the border, however, there was indeed a human crouched on the ground, seemingly buried up to his elbows in mud. They looked up at Logan’s approach, and the giant was prepared for a number of reactions to his presence. Swearing, screaming, slumping over in a dead faint. 

Plenty had responded to him like this in the past, and plenty more certainly would in the future. It came with being a monstrous giant.

The human offering him a slightly unhinged grin and a mud-slinging wave wasn’t one of the responses he had prepared for.

As such, his reply was uncharacteristically tentative, as though his voice would snap the human out of the peaceable trance they were in. “...Greetings. I am Logan, denizen of this forest. I’m here to inquire into what you’re doing here at the edge of the woods.” 

“Ooh, an interrogation!” The human didn’t stand, craning their neck back at a painful-looking angle to see him properly. “What if I don’t want to say, huh? Are you gonna grind me into bone meal under your heel?”

Logan blinked. The fear that normally would accompany such words was still completely absent. “No. I will not be harming you unless you move to harm those under my protection.”

The human sighed, almost disappointed. “Yeah, I didn’t take you for the type. Oh, well, guess we’re both leaving unsatisfied then.” 

Logan waited a moment longer, and then sighed lowly, before lowering himself to sit amongst his trees. The human cocked an eyebrow, looking as though another inappropriate comment was on the tip of his tongue. 

“If you don’t wish to explain yourself, then I will be supervising your excursions as the guardian of these woods,” Logan announced, sure that his cold gaze would at least give the strange human some pause. 

Of course, because they seemed to delight in proving his assumptions wrong, the human just stared for a moment before a wide, enthusiastic smile spread over his face. 

Logan sighed again, and steadfastly ignored the bright flare of curiosity the human had sparked in him. Most likely, they were simply a thrill-seeker, looking for an adventure like all the epics humans told about interacting with giants. Surely, they’d grow bored soon enough.

-

You'll be fine, you honeycomb Who could ever hurt you? Who could be so cold? You'll be fine, oh honey pie Who could ever hurt you? Who could be so unkind?

-

“Who did it?” 

The half-growl in Remus’ voice was enough that his gaze was immediately drawn away from the Lewisia cotyledon that he had been carefully coaxing root rot from. 

His unruly human acquaintance had apparently gotten closer while he was distracted, abandoning his small plot of freshly-turned soil and haphazard seedlings. It was a break from their typical engagement, where Logan remained in the treeline and Remus remained rooted in his strange, barely-edible ‘vegetable garden’ as they talked. 

“What do you mean?” he replied once he’d processed the strange question. “Is something amiss?” 

“Is your brain made of stone?” Remus shot back sharply, and Logan’s eyebrows drew together automatically at the insult. The human barely seemed to notice, thankfully. “Of course something’s amiss, you’re bleeding out all over the place!” 

He pointed emphatically, and Logan realized what the human was so up in arms about even as he turned to look. On his left side, stretched over his ribs, a long gash was slowly trickling sap-like ichor. The wound had been mostly hidden by his left arm, but in turning to focus on a new plant, he must have accidentally displayed it to the human. “Ah. Do not be alarmed, it’s a shallow wound and will scab over shortly--”

Remus waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t insult me, I know that much from the look of it alone! What I don’t know is: Who. Did. It?” 

Logan frowned briefly. He wasn’t sure why the human wanted to know, but he certainly wasn’t in the habit of denying anyone information. “I wasn’t informed of their name. A Jorōgumo sought sanctuary, which I granted, and approximately half a day later, a human mercenary attempted to breach the forest borders.” 

“And you killed the bastard?” Remus asked expectantly. Logan couldn’t help the minute flinch that traveled through him, the way his face shuttered back to cold neutrality. He’d thought… It didn’t matter. It was his own fault for believing that the man saw him in any other way. 

“No. I warded the forest against them with a bit of their blood. Once they realize the wards are impenetrable, I believe they will move on to an easier bounty.” 

“Not if I get to them first,” Remus replied cheerily, spinning his slightly-rotted wooden trowel in his hand. Logan felt a thrum of alarm at the idea of him getting in an altercation with a mercenary, though he wasn’t sure why. If two outsiders got in a fight, it was technically out of his jurisdiction.

“You most certainly will not attempt to hinder their departure,” he said firmly. “It would be detrimental to all parties involved.” 

Remus visibly pouted, before sighing and throwing the trowel at the ground hard enough to half-bury it. “Fine, Beanstalk, but at least let me—“ 

He stepped forwards, even closer, and Logan stiffened, all-too-aware of how small the human was compared to him. “What are you doing?” 

His voice came out slightly shriller than normal, and Remus jerked to a stop instantly, glancing up at him before turning his head away, something in his expression dropping. 

“I was just… nothing. Forgot for a second,” he muttered, bringing his hand up to inspect his dirt-encrusted nails. He continued before Logan could ask what exactly he’d forgotten that had prompted such a bitter expression. “Anyways, I’m sure you’re tired of babysitting, so I’m heading back. Seeya, Colossus.” 

Logan watched as Remus whistled off-tune as he turned away,  his shoulders drawn just slightly too-tight, and felt as though he’d missed something important.

-

The culmination of man's mistakes came the day The sun ran so hot, it turned the desert to glass If there's something to be learned from all these losers It's that the price that you pay For arrogance and a false sense of immunity Is to face the wrath of a dying star

-

For the next few moon cycles, Remus barely appeared at their-- his makeshift garden, and when he did, he was simultaneously more subdued and twitchier than usual. He almost always left early.

Logan knew, logically, that he should be glad for this development. The human’s basic survival instincts had clearly finally kicked in, and he was distancing himself appropriately from a monster. It was what he’d been expecting from the beginning, and better that it had happened now rather than go on any longer, what with how… worked up he was over it. 

Ridiculous. He sighed through his nose and turned away from the cluster of bleeding Hydnellum he’d found, attempting to force his thoughts away from the human and what his reaction to such a unique-looking mushroom specimen would have been. He needed to focus on his duties as the curator of these woods. 

However, it seemed fate had other ideas, for it was only a few groves later that he was called upon by a Hamrammr, Alda, who had been wearing the form of a large wood grouse for the past few seasons. 

“I have news on your human,” she said, and her tone was urgent enough that Logan forewent reminding her that Remus was not ‘his’ human. “One of my flock saw him dragged into a town jail two days past, and he hasn’t emerged since.” 

Logan attempted to ignore his quickening heartbeat. He couldn’t jump to conclusions. “Which town?”

Alda watched him keenly for a moment. “The populous one to the northeast of our territory. Be careful, Curator. You know the laws of these woods apply to even you.” 

Logan nodded sharply, and then was moving. Once he reached the fields between his woods and the human settlement, he took a deep breath to clear his mind. Barging into the humans’ space like this would hardly be appropriate, seeing as he worked to keep them from doing the very same to him. 

Instead, he folded in on himself like a withering plant, ignoring the painful cracking of wood and bone as he took on a smaller form. A simple glamor to match, and he didn’t receive a second glance as he walked the streets as an average traveler. 

An average traveler could find someone willing to gossip easily enough. And if Remus would fear him less in a reduced form, that was just a completely unintentional bonus.

“Criminals? We don’t have many here, and none with a valuable bounty.” 

“Really? I believed I heard whispers of a recent arrest,” Logan replied, completely truthfully.  

The shopkeep waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, yes, the resident cursebearer was found guilty of conspiring with the beasts of the enchanted wood to try and bring destruction upon our humble town, but as I said, no bounty--” 

“The denizens of the woods are forbidden from attacking nearby towns,” Logan recited automatically, his mind racing. Remus was a cursebearer? The practice of directing all the magical and non-magical curses of a town onto one individual was archaic, barbaric, and… explained a lot about Remus’s behavior, actually. There was a strange pit in his stomach at the thought.

“That’s what the giant told everyone, but how are we to really trust the word of a monster? Besides, the cursebearer was witnessed haunting the edges of the woods, speaking with that very giant!” Logan kept his face carefully neutral as the shopkeep shook his head. “It’s just too suspicious. He could have struck a deal, could already be one of those beasts at this point, and he spent enough time dragging filth through our streets as it is. Good riddance, I say.” 

The shopkeep broke off as he turned away, hiding the crack in his expressionless mask. Logan barely heard the resulting questions as he walked away with sharp steps.

The next morning, the town woke to the sight of half the jail’s roof torn clean off, and one very distinctive prisoner missing. 

-

You'll be fine, you honeycomb Who could ever hurt you? Who could be so cold? You'll be fine, oh honey pie Who could ever hurt you? Who could be so unkind?

-

Logan carefully cradled the human’s limp form in one hand, seated in their usual spot at the edge of the woods. He hadn’t expected to be so obvious in his retrieval of Remus, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it, either. 

When he’d successfully infiltrated the jail, he’d been subject to an embarrassing lack of control over his magic at the sight of Remus. The human had been barely-conscious, wrists shackled to the wall of his cell and a sickly pallor to his skin. It looked as though what little he’d been fed had been expunged in fits of sickness. 

Worst of all, he’d managed to focus on Logan’s frozen form after a moment, and a haphazard expression of delight had spread across his face. “Itty bitty Logan,” he slurred feverishly, “man, did I die al’rdy? Good. Missed ya.” 

Logan’s grip on his shapeshift had snapped as though he was a youngling again, and somewhere between caving the ceiling in and rusting the cuffs away, Remus had fallen back to unconsciousness. Even now, as the sun rose, he was uncannily still, only the rasps of each shallow breath proving his life intact. 

“I’m unsure what to do,” Logan confessed, studying Remus’s frame. The human was so small without his usual exuberant gesturing. His wrists oozed where the manacles had been, human flesh scabbing over so much slower than Logan’s would have. “I cannot abide the thought of sending you back to live with people who treat you like that, but to bring you into the woods would bind you to them in a way that could not be undone. Bind you to me in a way that could not be undone. I doubt you’d want that.” 

“Are you… stupid?” 

Logan jolted at the voice, mocking but almost a whisper for how loud it was. “Remus?” 

The human was squinting up at him, and even those few words sent him into a fit of coughing. Logan hurriedly drew morning dew up from the nearest saplings and pressed the liquid to Remus’s lips. 

“Don’t waste energy,” he chided; Remus flipped him off. “I apologize for… handling you while you were unconscious, but we cannot waste time. You are seriously ill, and need treatment. Do you have anyone who can provide it? Cost is no obstacle.” 

Remus snorted audibly, and opened his mouth for a heartbeat before his face pinched in with resulting pain. He shook his head with an eye roll. Logan tried not to feel frustration at his friend’s lackadaisical attitude towards his own health, and failed.

“This is not a joke, Remus! If you don’t get immediate treatment, your only options will be making a contract with my forest, or death.” 

Remus held up a finger.

“First option,” he croaked. “Stone for brains.” 

Logan was rendered speechless for a short moment, his fingers curling up around the human. “Wh— Remus, you can’t give up on human treatment so rashly. A contract will change you. You’d be, for lack of a better term, stuck with me until you made a full recovery and paid back the debt at the very least.”

Remus hacked out something that might have been another insult to Logan’s intelligence, and he held up his pointer finger more emphatically. “First option. We’re— ‘m your friend. Not scared of you, big fucking nerd. That’s my final word… maybe liter’lly.” 

And because he was as dramatic as he was vulgar, Remus chose that moment to let his eyes roll back in his head. 

His heartbeat loud in his ears, Logan took a deep breath, pushed all of his concerns and doubts aside, and stepped into the woods. 

-

The years have been hard on this lonely heart If you wanna know the truth There's no more community gardens So I guess I'll have to settle for you

-

“I don’t get it,” Remus mentioned one afternoon, watching Logan finish the last touches of a seal for a dryad’s lightning wound. “If you didn’t know I was a cursebearer, and you didn’t even end up caring I was a cursebearer anyway, why didn’t you ever let me near you when we hung out?”

Logan pressed the seal into the tree and glanced over at him, sighing with exasperation upon seeing him picking at the turmeric leaves ringed around his healing wrists. At least he couldn’t reach the ones working to repair his lungs.

“You’ll agitate your wounds if you do that,” he chided, reaching over to lift him from the mossy, oversized log he sat on. As always, he hesitated a moment before making contact, and as always, Remus leaned up in advance to greet him, as though being carried in the palm of a giant was not only normal, but also the only form of transportation he’d ever accept. 

“Ooh, sounds fun.” Remus grinned mischievously but did indeed stop uprooting the plants embedded in his skin. He laid himself out flat on his back instead, an arm and a leg dangling over the edges of Logan’s curled hand, uncaring of the cool forest air rushing past him as Logan walked. “You still haven’t answered my question, though.”  

“I’m not sure I fully understand it. You’re asking why I didn’t physically interact with you, before, but I believe the answer is obvious.” Logan adjusted his woven sleeve cuff absently. “I simply… found your company enjoyable and didn’t wish to scare you off, I suppose.”

He waited for the typical laughter that came whenever he implied that maybe Remus should be wary around him, since he was by most human definitions, a literal giant monster. It didn’t come. 

Instead, Remus’s face was scrunched up in thought. “So… it was because you wanted to keep being friends. And not because you thought I was gross, or repellant, or better off as juicy blood mulch, or--”

“If anyone wants to mulch you, Remus,” Logan interrupted neatly, “they will have to go through me first.”

“...Not if I get to them first,” Remus responded, a slow grin building on his face. “Since we’re friends and all.” 

“That completely counteracts the point of my protection, but yes,” Logan said, a small smile of his own finding its way onto his face, “we certainly are.” 

[shortythescreen]

“Touch me. I don’t care how. I just need to feel something right now…” - Revenant. Please?

You don’t have a ton of routines. You’re not a routine kind of person, usually, just trying to fly through life by the seat of your pants. Yet, when your shop is closed for the day, you’ve found yourself with a few... rituals. 

After you send home whoever assisted you that day, you take in the very rare silence of the shop, of the way that all you can hear for the moment is decompressing machinery, your own decompressing breath. For all that the Apex boasts that their city is so empty, your shop sure gets fucking busy. 

Whether it’s with adjusting cargo bots for the upcoming matches, loot ticks that have had a resurgence with the reopening of King’s Canyon, or helping the legends with their bots, you’re their mechanic. You’re a damn good one too but sometimes it’s nice to hear a thankful, blissful nothing. 

You turn the bright, neon open sign that hangs in the front of your window off. Then, you begin to scrub your counter tops, having learned long ago not to bother with any particularly stubborn oil stains. After that, you tidy up your tools, placing them back in the neat, particular spots they tend to stray away from throughout the day. 

You’re just in the middle of tucking another wrench back into its cushioned place in the drawer when the door crashes open. You jump, eyes snapping over your shoulder as it slams loudly against the wall adjacent to it, bouncing back towards the source of the noise. 

There, standing in the doorway of your most definitely closed shop, is Revenant.

You’ve been working with the games’ bots long enough to know that a majority of them only see you for check ups. Just last week, you helped Pathfinder with what you two joked was a loose screw but was actually a part of his paneling that had come loose from that week’s match. He’s always very sweet but you know he likes to spend a majority of his time with the other legends. Which is fine! You understand. They’re probably far more interesting than the friendly, local mec. 

You’ve worked on Revenant a couple of times. He’s truly a marvel. Older, as far as models go, but still fascinating to work on, and you’ve helped tighten a few chords, keep his fingers from glitching and pulling the trigger when he doesn’t want to in a match. It’s kinda funny, actually, that you’ve literally stayed his deadly hand, sometimes. 

You tried to make that joke to him once and he told you to shut the fuck up. So you did. You were certain he would keep talking about your stale humor but you fixed a wire in his wrist, positioning it with fingers so gentle you might as well have been touching glass, and he stopped talking altogether. You bid him adieu with little more spoken between you, other than that he would be back if he needed more repairs. 

Still, he usually comes during business hours.  

“Uh,” you start, only for his ocher eyes to narrow into slivers at you, withering, intimidating, glowering. 

“Don’t talk,” he growls out, stalking closer. Oh fuck. What did you do? Did something happen during today’s match? You hadn’t watched it. Did he malfunction? He looks like he’s gonna kill you. Fuck, shit! 

The muscles in your legs bunch, tensing as though to run. It would be useless to try but still, the sight of Revenant, with his baritone growl and glare to kill, coming at you like a beast on the prowl, makes you want to try. 

His fingers, cool, metal, with synthetic joints (synthetic joints you installed) in between, wrap around your forearm, still frozen in position across the counter. He jerks you upright and you wince, certain he’s going to rip your arm from its socket. But he just... Makes you face him. 

“Uh,” you try again, which is not what you should say to the eight foot simulacrum that definitely just told you in not so many words to shut the fuck up, but here you are. He stares down at you and your brow knits as you watch his face. 

Revenant is... A robot. Of sorts. Which means that he definitely doesn’t have much in the way of expression. Still, his face emotes more than Pathfinder’s optic, and you catch the sharp ridges of where you imagine his eyebrows would be twitching, haunting gold eyes sputtering in his black sockets. 

“...Are you okay?” You finally ask, moving closer. The fight or flight he initiated upon his dramatic entrance has faded and you find yourself... concerned. He seems disturbed. Put off his normally deadly accurate game, his sharpness feeling more like a bristled cat than the ill-tempered bot you know him to be. Maybe? No one’s ever accused you of knowing how to read a room. 

“Touch me,” he says, and your head jerks back. 

“What?” You ask, incredulous. Is this real? Are you having a fucking fever dream? He lets out something that sounds like a growl, the reverberating, almost autotuned sound grinding out of his chest, like it takes some effort for him to make. 

“Touch me,” Revenant snarls and you jump at the volume. He lets out something that sounds like a sigh, his bony, ball-and-joint shoulders suddenly drooping. The action is so... So human. It takes you aback, further than you thought you could get. “I don’t care how. I just need to feel something right now...”

“Um,” is your intelligent reply and c’mon, mech, you gotta come up with something better than that. You clear your throat, looking up into his pale face, shaped like a skeleton. He’s fearsome, gruesome. Scary. Yet, somehow, there’s something... Something in his eyes. 

So, you oblige. Reaching forward with the arm he doesn’t have captive, you place your hand across his chest plate. Your fingers splay across the hot metal, familiar beneath your greasy fingers, and you can feel Revenant begin to relax. Your thumb gently traces the hard plane between two of his plates, feeling the edges of it, and his grip on your arm begins to relax. You look up, finding those pretty gold eyes of his beginning to change, softening into something orange, warm. 

He likes this, whatever the fuck you’re doing. You delicately pry your arm from what originally felt like his threatening grasp and now just... Seems like maybe desperation. God, you probably have a screw loose if that’s how you feel.

You grab his hand, running your fingers along the inside of those synthetic joints. His head tilts, his eyelids drooping as he pushes into the sensation of you touching him. 

This is really fucking weird. Working on the inside of him is different, technical, messy. Your job. This is... After hours. And not his wiring, or internal mechanisms. Instead, it’s him, seeking something, seeking the way your finger begins to outline the shape of his chest plates, long and rectangular. You drag it down, beginning to outline the logo that decorates either side of the bottoms of his chest piece. 

He snaps from his reverie, gaze dropping distinctly to where your hand now is. He wrenches out of your grasp and you two stare at each other, suspended in the moment of... You don’t even know. Of whatever that was. 

“Rev?” You say. He shakes out his huge, skeletal body, the entirety of his joints fluttering into place like a marionette. Then, he turns away from you, marching out of your shop. 

You watch him go, unable to formulate the words to stop him. His warmth lingers beneath your palm, and your hand tingles with the sensation of his wrapped in yours. What the fuck? 

[adhdeancas]

Sunset Sound: Gloria (In Excelsis Deo)

Chapter 4 is in!  

Thanks to James @friedchickenangelwings and everybody reading so far (tag list I love each and every one of you).

“Alright, what’s the plan?” Cas tries to resign himself to the fact that this is his “life” now. He’s wandering through a vast landscape of every demon and angel ever killed, trying to avoid a cosmic force which hates him, with a smarmy demon.

“Rumor has it there’s a weak spot between the realms.” Crowley walks backwards so he can look at Cas, which means Cas has to watch his back and make sure he isn’t walking into any daggers. It’s annoying. “Unfortunately, that means all the picks of the litter,” he gestures to the havoc around them. “Are going to be there, crowding to be the first ones out when the door breaks.”

Cas sighs. “Great. And you know how to get there?” 

Crowley shrugs. “I have a general idea.” That doesn’t inspire much confidence in Cas. “Relax, Flyboy, I’ve got a handle on this sort of thing. What we need to figure out is how we’ll get past all the eager beavers when we make it there.” 

“Is killing and maiming not enough of a plan for you?” 

Crowley grins. “Oh, Castiel, stop it, you make a demon blush when you say things like that.” Cas shakes his head. 

“Well, I’d love a better plan, but this place doesn’t seem full of… possibility.” He kicks aimlessly at a patch of Not-Ground and inexplicably stubs his toe. Crowley gives him a withering look, but doesn’t disagree. They walk in silence for a few more moments.

“So…” Crowley’s tone automatically sets off Cas’s waried alarms. He sounds like he’s trying to be casual. Cas looks over and - sure enough- Crowley is pointedly looking at his nails. “Did they cry over me long?” 

Cas sends him a flat look. They in Crowley’s book automatically means The Winchesters, and The Winchesters automatically means Dean. Crowley was asking: Did Dean cry over me long?

Did Dean cry over me? He wonders.

Cas clears his throat and realizes… “I don’t know.” 

Crowley frowns at him. “What do you mean you don’t know? Too teared up yourself after your old pal Crowley to see if Moose and Squirrel were in pieces? Or were you just too focused on the new bébé?”

Cas rolls his eyes. “First of all, we’re not pals.” Dean and he are pals. Crowley and he are not pals. “Second of all, I was dead.” 

Crowley stops dead. “You mean to tell me you died right after my big heroic scene? You mean to tell me-”

“Mary was dragged into the Apocalypse World with Lucifer, who stabbed me in the back and killed me.” 

Crowley looks sincerely sullen at that. “That’s just-” He walks ahead. 

Cas blinks. Crowley is not one to drop a matter, especially not one he’s so obviously pissy about. This can’t mean anything good. “What is it?” 

The man spun around almost immediately. “I died, you bloody idiot! And you had to go and die after me? Just to rub it in my face?” 

“Yes, I got stabbed by my older brother just to overshadow your ‘heroic sacrifice.’” This son of a bitch is so dramatic.

Crowley glared at him. “He didn’t even notice me dying.”

Oh. So he’s dropping the pretences then. Cas is trying to be patient, but frankly the logic is ridiculous. “I’m sure he noticed you dying.” 

“Not after you,” Crowley shoves his hands in Cas’s direction, then sticks them in his pockets and keeps walking, forcing Cas to trail behind him like a weary parent of a petulant teenager.

Fuck, he actually thinks I care about you? Dean Winchester eases out of the darkness with his eyebrows raised. He’s wearing a smile that Cas has only ever seen on Dean as a demon, and it makes his blood crawl. Poor son of a bitch. Delusional. Almost as bad as you, buddy. Empty!Dean smirks and eyes Cas with pity. Cas has never heard “buddy” sound so condescending. Thinking I could ever feel the same.

Cas squeezes his eyes shut and counts to three. He never thought that Dean could feel the same. “Crowley.” He gains speed, trying to leave the Empty!Dean behind. “Crowley.” 

“I give my life for those insufferable lumberjacks and-”

“I’m sure they-”

We didn’t. Didn’t even have a funeral for you insufferable pricks. We just said good riddance and let your body rot. Empty!Dean’s smile is vicious, and Cas can’t get it out of his head. Try as he might, Cas can’t get Dean to disappear from his mind’s eye. As much as Empty!Dean’s words are hurting him, just seeing his face again is… reassuring.

“You really don’t know, though, do you?” His voice is prickly, its shields back up despite the truth he was spouting. “You never saw him after the times you died. I-”

Crowley runs into something. Someone, actually. 

They must’ve both been too distracted, in their conversation and their thoughts, to notice. The straggler looks behind himself to see Crowley, and in seconds they’re surrounded by a whole group of them. Angels. Cas sees the leader and swallows hard. He nods at them on the minute chance they don’t recognize him or hate him. “Hello, Hester.”

The angel smiles in the least emotive way possible. “Hello, Castiel. Still keeping company with the damned, I see.” 

The angels around Cas grab a hold of his arms before he can make any move. They do the same thing to Crowley ahead of him. Cas grits his teeth, momentarily considering fighting before realizing it’s hopeless. He takes the defiance route and looks back up at his old foe. “Haven’t you figured it out by now, Hester? We’re all damned.” 

The angels aren’t pleased with that reply, if their rough handling is any indication. They haul Crowley and Cas across the Emptiness with a speed that’s exhausting, but at least they don’t have to worry about the fighting. Even in the midst of battles, angels, demons, and creatures of all sorts make room for the group of well-armed and organized angels. Crowley frowns over at him through the mess. “Thanks for the defense, feathers, but how in holy hell are we gonna get out of this one?” 

Cas shakes his head. “I don’t know.” 

The angels shush them then. Cas takes the time to try to formulate a plan of action, but it feels like his thoughts are clouded and malformed. The effort of fighting off the visions of the Empty is exhausting, and he just doesn’t have anything left except the dull panic of knowing that wherever he is going is worse. 

Crowley isn’t doing much better. He stops struggling against being manhandled early, opting to bat his eyelashes at the man closest to him. “See something you like, angel?” He looks vaguely satisfied by the look of discomfort on the man’s face.

“Hester, where are you taking us?” The insistent fear still holding to Cas’s heart makes him ask even though he’s sure the answer will mean very little.

Hester glances behind herself carelessly. “Oh, first we are going to our stop-post. But after, Castiel, after that we are taking you straight to the Empty itself.” 

Cas closes his eyes and breathes deeply, trying to calm himself. “Why?”

“Because it hates you.” She says it like she expects the words to sting, and when Cas seems unaffected, she frowns. “You are the reason all of this is happening. You are the reason the realms are in chaos, Castiel.” 

That’s right, Castiel. It’s your fault we’re all suffering now. Hell, even after you murdered us, you continue to twist the knife. An Empty!Balthasar walks alongside the group, eyes locked on Cas’s and voice solely for his ears. 

“You used to be so devout, Castiel. It saddens me, to see you fall yet further.” 

“Yes, well, things happen.” Cas can’t believe he’s even attempting to justify himself. 

“Things. Don’t be so coy; we know of whom you speak.” 

Crowley snorts and Cas looks over at him. Of all the things he could describe their current situation as, amusing would not be one of them. “Oh, can it with the piety, King James. Who doesn’t get up to a little interspecies hanky panky every now and again?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively at the angel he’s closest to, and he moves away so quickly he almost lets go of Crowley altogether. 

Cas smiles in spite of himself. 

Hester is not entertained. “My point is made for me. Don’t you ever feel ashamed of yourself, Castiel? You used to be a leader of the garrison, an example to be looked to.”

Cas looks at her dully. “I used to be a dick.” he says truthfully. If he’s honest, thinking of himself before he rebelled is much more painful than thinking of himself after. “I am not ashamed of who I am. I’ve done much wrong, yes, but loving Dean Winchester is not one of those wrongs.” He clears his throat, trying to dispel some of the thickness that’s popped up with his words. He won’t hide that anymore. He’d given that up the second he decided to say it out loud. 

Hester looks taken aback by his bluntness. Of course, the last time she saw him… well, he was much less at peace with himself. “You really are tarnished beyond repair. Fine, you will meet your end without repentance.” 

Cas shrugs. “Not like my repentance would make much of a difference.” he grumbles. He’s pretty sure there would be no shaking hands and getting over it even if he was groveling at the Empty’s metaphysical feet. Not after all this. And it’s not like he could fix the chaos even if he wanted to. 

Crowley knocks into his side and jerks his head ahead of them, pointing in the direction of the first structure they’ve seen in the Empty. It’s a low, sturdy building made of the ether solidified into depressing dark door and windowless lodging, with stairs out front leading to a below ground level entrance. This is where they go, into the bunker. It makes Cas off-handedly ill to think of the bunker he wants to be at, and he’s so wrapped up in that thought he doesn’t pay much heed to the expansive underground structure Hester leads them through. They eventually get to holding cells, and Cas and Crowley are thrown into one together. 

“You’ve done this to yourself, Castiel.” 

Cas rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t have the energy to disagree with her. She’s not wrong. He follows Crowley’s lead instead, sticking a middle finger up in reply. She huffs and leaves them alone, in the dim lighting with only a dank stench and a dripping noise for company. Well, that’s not entirely true. 

“Gee, Clarence, what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?” 

Cas’s heart leaps out of his chest. “Meg?” 

Crowley groans next to him, which they both ignore. “Hiya, boys.” Meg waves from behind matching bars across the room from them. “Fancy seeing you here.”

tag list: (ask to be added or removed)

@dochunterwitch  @justonecitizenoftheearth @gnbrules @purpe @castiel-is-a-cat @alienapparatus @damian-janus-pendragon

[ashleyswrittenwords]

The Queen’s Tournament

A ZeLink Fanfiction (Part One of Three)

(Art by the wonderful @ramibriidge)

Summary: Princess Zelda is ready for her coronation. Her court, however, is not. In an effort for a King, the ministers pressure the crown princess into agreeing to marry whoever champions in a tournament any man in the kingdom can participate in.

The Queen’s Tournament

The string was pulled taunt and she steadily aimed the arrowhead above her mark. Feet parted, arm steady, trust your gut and don’t overthink. She breathed in slowly and released the string. The arrow whizzed through the air. The arrowhead hit its mark squarely on the bulls-eye. She lowered the bow to get a good look at her marksmanship and a smile upturned her previous frown.

“You get better every day,” a voice said behind her. Zelda jumped; it was nearly right in her ear. She turned to see Link looking at the target past her. She lazily observed him and turned back, her smile thinner now. Link had been teaching her archery among other arts of combat for over a year now. It was a good expenditure of her energy, especially as of late. She shook her head and muttered, “I hate when you do that.” Then, she added, “Not good enough.”

The early morning sun painted a sky a light pink and blue hue. Link had gone to gather the arrows from the target and was walking back, making note of the dullness of the arrow heads. “Seems like it’s never enough. Are you looking to start a war, princess?”

She only took the arrows from him and shrugged without meeting his gaze, “So what? Maybe I am.”

Link watched her as Zelda fiddled with stuffing the arrows into the quiver. He was only half-joking. The princess had insisted they practice three times more than they were before. Zelda wasn’t acting as she normally did. Her usual excitement to learn dissipated into an odd obligation. It was her only free time away from her court, so it shouldn’t surprise Link that she wanted to increase it. Though her demeanor has changed and now she was going out of her way to train without him like a woman possessed. To say that she was worrying him was an understatement.

“I should go,” Zelda spoke without raising her eyes. As the sun rose higher the threat of her maids gossiping rose as well. They both knew that. The Hero and the crown princess meeting secretly in the dark – he could see it on tabloid headlines within the next day.

“Can you at least let me know what’s troubling you?” Link had almost gone to grab her hand as she turned away, but his reach withered to his side instead.

Zelda paused and turned back with eyes studying the red clay beneath them. They flickered to his for a moment, “You should know. You of all people should know.”

Guilt ate at him as he watched her saunter off. Her dark trousers would soon be replaced by an elaborate gown and her long-braided hair with something other. Link diverted his eyes elsewhere, scorning himself for looking at her like that. If anyone had seen him…

No one did. No one was ever out training here unless it was Zelda and himself. Well, now it was just Zelda apparently. A feeling of obsoletion shocked him and he pushed it away, eyeing the off-kilter marks left by Zelda’s morning training. It wasn’t all perfect. She still had a long way to go. But Link would be lying to himself if he was to say she wasn’t a natural. Zelda had talent. All she really needed was a little guidance and muscle memory. Link hummed to himself, a small smile gracing his lips. Once she’s done that for herself, then he’d be obsolete. And that suited him alright. It would mean he did his job.

Maybe she’d even dismiss him?

He had helped her defeat Zant. The castle had finally returned to normal. What else was he to do here? Link had offered advice to straighten out her forces and improve defenses. Zelda had followed through without much question. Really, what else was there to do?

Her advisors had insisted she get married. Zelda had resisted each time. When she finally requested that the court ordain her as queen, they were beyond irritated by her resolve. The ministers had compiled a list of suitors and she had rejected them all, so they rejected her request. Goddesses, she had been mad. That night she woken Link up and nearly pulled his arm off with how much she demanded to let her into the armory. He was barely able to throw a shirt on before trying to smooth over her anger.

“You can’t just murder your court,” he had said, that seemed to get through to her enough where she explained what had happened. It was the first time he had seen her cry. It still made him frustrated to think about it. Zelda had always seemed untouchable, the human embodiment of a queen. Why they refused to even consider her request was unfathomable to Link. She was level-headed, brilliant, and more than capable. In that moment, she was so vulnerable. He wanted desperately to protect her. Shield her from whatever was hurting her. But he couldn’t. This wasn’t Zant or some formidable enemy threatening her life. It was politics, a world Link wasn’t well-equipped in.

Zelda would be forced to marry soon if she wanted the throne. Hyrule was becoming unsettled without an absolute in power and the mourning period for Zelda’s father, the King, had long come to pass. And heaven knows the princess was too stubborn to step down from a challenge. So, when the crown princess had come to an agreement with the council in regards to marriage the kingdom was shocked and a heavy sense of burden fell upon the Hyrulian champion.

 --

Zelda was bored.

Her signature started blurring into scribbles as she signed off on a bill. She had been at the same activity for hours now. The door to the office opened and closed to reveal more paperwork. It seems like the lords and ministers were particularly excited about preparations today. Which meant they were spending more of the crown’s money. The weight of her head cramped her hand and she made a face at Impa who stood at the side of the room, busying herself with proofreading.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said, making a gesture to the princess’s desk. Zelda stretched her arms upward, groaning, “Whatever has possessed the bureaucracy to write this much?”

“Your impending coronation. Remember?”

Zelda scowled, “At what cost, Impa?”

“As much as it takes to get you in a white dress. What did you expect when you agreed to that ridiculous competition?” Impa had been resentful since she had learned of the idea. She thought it was patronizing to the family’s legacy. Which wasn’t completely wrong in Zelda’s eyes, but the gears in her head were turning.

“That it will be exciting,” another signature and she laughed at her advisor’s grimace. “You agree with the rest that I must wed myself to someone. Courting is a spectacle for my court therefore I don’t see why finding a capable suitor shouldn’t be a spectacle that my people can’t ogle at as well. Men from different lands fighting for the honor of being king? It’s something out of a theatrical play.”

“And you’re comfortable with it?” Impa said, meeting Zelda’s eyes. The princess squirmed in her seat, feeling exposed. Impa has known her since she was a child, even advising her father for a time. No wonder she could read Zelda like a book. “I never said I was going to attend,” Zelda muttered.

“Zelda-!”

“Your highness?”

Impa and Zelda looked at the door in alarm. The squabbling between them squandered by the interruption. Link stood in the entryway in the attire of the royal military. To Zelda, it was still strange to see him with a lack of green. “Is this a bad time?” he spoke slowly, seeing the faces of the Impa and the princess herself.

“No!” Zelda said suddenly before her advisor could speak. “No, it’s a perfect time.”

Link looked at her for a long moment. He was always more formal with others around. But now, his eyes were soft and she averted her gaze at the small stack of papers he put on her desk. He had a knack of seeing beneath the crown, the jewels, and the gowns. It was a skill she had come to both scorn and adore. “A lord came by and asked that I give you this for approval. I don’t remember his name,” he muttered the last part.

“Did he say what it was? If it’s a revised bill about the candle budget I will march into the House of Lords myself,” Zelda flipped through it, pausing at a list of names.

“Ah, no,” Link masked a laugh with a cough, “It’s the names of who will take part at the suitor event.”

Zelda looked up at him in surprise, “Already?”

“Is it not next week?”

She looked back down that the list, scanning over the names and feeling his blue eyes watch her. Some she recognized, most she did not. Nodding more so to herself, “It is… it is.” Zelda felt ill. Any of these could be the next King of Hyrule. Suddenly, her plan felt flimsy. So many things could go wrong. The list spanned two pages and she wondered how the few days of competitions could weed out this many people. She dipped her pen into a pot of ink and paused just above the dotted line. Her eyes drew to the last name that seemed to be scribbled in at the last second. Her brows knitted together as she read it over several times just to be sure: Link Forester.

Zelda caught him as he slipped out of the door.

She scrawled her name on the document and handed it over to her advisor with a clouded mind.

 --

Zelda had been far too occupied with preparations that her time to train was suffocating by the day. Despite that, her training was felt to be more important so she practiced in her room and outside in the late hours of the night. It was taxing on her body, but her mind felt at peace. At peace meaning more room for determination than before. The event was publicized to the public as being a romantic affair. The inns around the castle were packed with travelers from abroad for tomorrow’s processions. Even if it turns into a worst-case scenario, at least the public’s morale has recovered. They were calling it the Queen’s Tournament in the papers. The notion brought a smile to her face. So, they did believe her to be the true queen. That was a comforting reality.

Impa had just left after finishing her last attempt to sway Zelda’s decision. It was for naught, there was an agreement she signed. Her word was given. Even if she wasn’t there in person the tournament would still go underway, which worked in her favor. Zelda approached her mirror and pulled the pins from her hair. Her locks spilled down her back and she waved a hand. Like a mirage, the features her mother passed to her faded into a gruffer appearance. Her skin wasn’t as smooth, her hair far darker, and her eyes of a different shape. Zelda was out of practice in her magic. Link had seen her do this once before and his attendance was entirely unsuspected, therefore she would need a different mask. As the thought crossed her mind, she felt overwhelmed – flustered. He did realize it was to win her hand in marriage, right?

Of course, he did. He had to know. The papers speculated who would be in attendance as the list wouldn’t be publicized until tomorrow. Cover after cover was gossip and rumors of Link being amongst them. Before she had scoffed and threw them in a bin. But now she stood in the mirror, still jarred by the news almost a week later. Zelda wasn’t naive, she knew he was more capable than the rest of the men she saw on that list. That stupid list with his wobbly handwriting on it. Her people loved him for all he had done, all the things he still does for them – for her.

Zelda looked back into the mirror to see her foreign features were fading with her wandering mind. She grew frustrated. No longer was she an adolescent child. She was a formidable mage, was she not? Zelda could wield the power of the Goddess if she chose to. A queen doesn’t pine after people. No, she wasn’t pining. Princess Zelda was simply taking note of her competition for her own hand.

 --

Perhaps he had been too hasty.

Link being too hasty? No, he was calculated. Precise. Thoughtful.

He stared at the attendant who stared right back. “Link Forester?” Link repeated, unsure if he had heard him correctly. The match in the man’s head seemed to spark and he fumbled with his quill, “Right, right. Of course, the Hero of Hyrule.”

Link cringed but nodded respectfully. He hated that title. It was all too formal. The man crossed a name out and waved him in. The building was recognized as an outdoor theater, but now it was a coliseum of sorts. The stage was deconstructed, and they were still moving targets into the empty space. It was practical, perhaps the only building in the capital that could house the tremendous amount of people that were expected. He had seen them already lining up in the early hours of the morning. He was led into a holding space that was being used for storing the props over the next few days. Excess targets, bows, and training dummies to name a few. Link felt excited. It had been a while since something serious was at stake. Sure, it would be far better if no one had to marry the princess.

He unbelted the baldric from his hips and set the scabbard against the crate, promptly hoisting himself up to sit on it. The gazes from the men in the room felt demeaning, but he retreated into his own head. Only a couple more hours of this, then he’d do it all over tomorrow.

Zelda said to him that all she wanted was to choose. There was too much in her life she had no control over. Of those things shouldn’t be the person she would spend the rest of her life with. Link stared at his hands, remembering when she announced the tournament to the press. Her speech didn’t waver, and her head was held high. However, he could see past that. He could see the way her eyes told him she was defeated. They finally told her they would vote her off the throne if not for this silly competition. She was hurting.

So, when the lord was thrown off by Impa’s loud voice in the office and tossed his chore to Link it felt natural that he’d write his name in too. Not to win her hand, but to give her the choice she wanted. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind, he would win and nothing in the contract said that the winner had to marry the princess.

The door shut loudly and someone else walked into the room. At least the attention was finally off Link. The interest in analyzing his competitors overwhelmed his thoughts and he obliged. There were several lords’ sons in the room, not that he knew their names, their clothes betrayed them. They were far too neat and proper to have witnessed any harsh training. Link made a categorized list in his head of the people his eyes met. There was a group of soldiers he recognized, none of whom he interacted with on a daily basis. Then, a Goron and a few odd Zora. Among the rest was a large Gerudo man that sat with some other boisterous men. Link vaguely recognized him as some kind of politician that visited from abroad from time to time. They seemed to have been drinking. Nevertheless no one seemed threatening, but there was a Hylian man that Link kept coming back to. He was set apart and near the opposite end of the room. Dark hair and a thin build. He wasn’t anything intimidating, but he was odd. Link felt a sense of distrust.

A bell chimed and the doors opened to the public. It wouldn’t be long now until the first event of the tournament was underway. The topic of the day’s competition was announced: Archery.

 --

Zelda had snuck her alias onto the list last second and took her seat on the far side of the room. Having the signature of the princess was certainly useful.  It was a surprisingly long wait, but soon enough they were all lined up to be introduced to the stadium. Link was two people in front of where she stood and he seemed to have noticed her. She glanced down at her hands, no her masking spell was still strong. Zelda felt giddy. It was amusing to be plain and blissfully normal. Even more so at a tournament centered around herself. No one had outright spoken to her, so she didn’t need to exercise an excessively deeper voice. She was never good at voice changing spells and it wasn’t the time for a failed attempt.

Link was asking if contestants could bring their own bows. The man handing them out denied it, insisting standard use had to be used. He sighed and set the bow he usually used during our training to the side. Zelda felt somehow touched by the familiarity. She hoped he didn’t expect her to be watching in the box with Impa.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” The man in front of her laughed as he spoke to Link, who turned just barely. “No. Not really.”

She took a bow, trying to make it look like she wasn’t interested. It wasn’t anything special, they were standard wooden bows.

The man ahead spoke again despite Link’s disinterest, “What do you do, kid?”

“I, uh,” he started, “I’m a goat herder.”

Zelda raised a brow as the guy began roaring in laughter. Link didn’t react much, just shrugged his shoulders. The line started moving towards the open doors that led to the open stadium. Introductions were being announced and the crowd was deafeningly loud.

“A goat herder marrying the princess? Hey, at least you’re shooting your shot, boy.”  

Link stepped out into the sunlight and the announcer boomed into Zelda’s ear. “Link Forester, the Hero of Hyrule!” The said hero visibly winced at the screaming audience. She knew how much he resented the title but seeing the berating man freeze at the words made her lips form a secret smile. He had been so affected he walked robotically out. The acoustics of the former theater were amplifying.

Zelda’s own introduction was small and plain. She was Yoland Romerok. A name she made up at the door. In the least, it was better than Shiek. It was true that she wasn’t good with names, goddesses help her children. There were three lines in the sand and she followed the group to the closest, situating herself in front of her own target. A handful of arrows sat in a small barrel an arm’s reach away. There were about fifty suitors that lined the edges of the stadium, it matched the list of names. The announcer rattled off typical archery rules for those unfamiliar. It would be rather long. There would be three trials and between each the suitors would be disqualified. The distances of the trials would be as follows: 25 meters, 50 meters, and 90 meters. The time would be set at ten minutes and the competitor would have that set amount of time to shoot all arrows in the barrel until scores were tallied.

The ten minutes began counting down. Yoland eyed the barrel and nocked an arrow. The bow’s string wasn’t too different from the tautness of her own on the training grounds. The target was closer than what she was used to. A perfect opportunity to try out this bow. The first was off and landed just above the bullseye. She caught her breath and glanced at her neighbors who took their time as well. The man who had taunted Link had missed his mark completely.

The next two arrows hit the eye and the last landed lower than she meant. Zelda smiled but humbled herself with a glance at the next two lines behind her. The ten minutes went by slowly, but eventually the judges walked by making marks. Several names were announced to leave, Yoland not being one of them. The man beside her walked away with heavy steps. There was an applause as a team of people came by to move the barrels and collect the arrows. During this time, she noticed a rather large man. Zelda’s stomach sunk. Lord Ganondorf had made the trek from the desert to represent his people. She diverted her eyes when he looked her way and swallowed thickly. He had asked Her Highness for her hand over the span of several years. A chill ran up her spine, she must have missed his name when she grew distracted by Link’s own.

The next trial was a distance Zelda felt more comfortable with. All four struck the red bullseye. Another set of men left the field. It made her wonder if they thought this competition was a different form a combat or perhaps simply nerves. The last competitor that separated herself and the hero left quietly. Zelda rubbed her sweaty hands onto her trousers and wondered briefly if Link thought they looked familiar. Speaking of which, she stole a glance his way before the last trial. He was looking past her, up at the stands. She followed his gaze and was met with the box the princess was supposed to sit. Impa was instead standing there, looking rather impatient. Link ran a hand through his hair and pulled the longest locks into a ponytail. Sweat dripped down the side of his face.

Zelda frowned at the increasing temperature of her cheeks and blamed it on the heat. She scolded herself, checked her hands to assure the spell wasn’t affected, and turned her attention to the reset time. 90 meters. She had practiced this.

“The last trial commences!” The announcer said boisterously. The stadium roared with the same enthusiasm. With a nocked arrow in her grasp, Zelda reminded herself of what she needed to prove to her court and the ministers that constantly doubted her intentions. She could hear Link already hitting his mark and remembered what he had told her about emotions. Don’t let it guide your arrow. Instead, channel it into energy. When she breathed in, she held the breath in her lungs. Her hand pulled the string taunt and she watched the target with indifference.

The arrow hit the edge of the red circle.

The next two arrows hit around the same area. A part of her worried they would knock the first to the sand. Fortunately, that wasn’t the case and the last hit above the cluster. Yoland Romerok leaned back to observe the target, then the competitors nearest. An older man hit the edges of the target. Link was already observing her own work, he hadn’t done too shabby himself. His gaze at her almost made Zelda want to be smaller. He was staring with a strange look in his eye before he nodded and looked away.

That was weird.

Zelda surveyed the remaining suitors. Fifty was narrowed down to fifteen or twenty. The masking spell was still working perfectly, but the eyes of Impa from above were drilling into the back of “Yoland Romerok”. There were a series of announcements to close today. Tomorrow’s theme was amongst them.

“As we all know,” the announcer shouted through the stadium. It was lucky for him that the structure was built with acoustics in mind because the tremor of shouts and hollers from the people were almost overbearing. “Our princess has a love for horses. What would be a better fitting contest for her heart than chariot racing?”

The princess’s heart leapt with the roaring crowd. A chariot race? She was kept in the dark about the competitions just as much as the rest of the stadium. Archery was merely an educated guess and perhaps hand to hand combat.

Horses, however? Her thinned lips quirked upward. This was Princess Zelda’s forte, after all.

 --

The cheering was odd. His name in other people’s mouth like it was their favorite word. It was, in the least, distracting. It was a hot day too, which added to the sweat. There were several instances where he would wipe his bow off with his shirt. This hadn’t happened with Zant. Midna would surely have made fun of him for being overly nervous. Zelda wouldn’t have reacted much different, he knew that. She liked to poke at him when she could. He knew she’d do great with a challenge like this. The princess had always had an affinity with archery and only ever needed a little guidance. It was commonly her stress that held her back with focusing on the target.

Link blew a breath out. Zelda wasn’t there, which eased his worries. The look she had given him after he had given her that list of suitors was indescribable. He harbored hope that maybe it was a good look of disbelief, not one of realizing a worse situation. Maybe she would understand if he explained. Even when he had gathered up the little courage he had for the situation she had grown scarce. Her days either spent in her chambers or her office.

He followed the rest back to the same room they had left earlier. One of the judges from the archery tournament came by to awkwardly shook his hand, “It’s an honor, Sir Link.”

Link swallowed and offered a smile, “Oh, thanks.”

The man lumbered away and started shouting about what time they had to be there the next day. Once Link began wondering what kind of race would take place the same small Hylian walked by him and towards the exit. He had given Link a weird look during the competition before the 90 meters that rubbed him the wrong way. Obviously, Link hadn’t taken a liking with this one. Not that he had given approval with anyone there. Every time he saw a new face he imagined Zelda with a new ring on her finger dismissing him of his duties. Not many of these fantasies included her being happy.

“What’s your name?” Link asked. He already knew, but he wondered what the man would sound like. What he didn’t expect was for Yoland to jump as if someone had accused him of murder. He looked young, younger than Link.

The man cleared his throat, “Yo-Yoland.”

Link raised an eyebrow. He didn’t look like this during the tournament. Yoland acted like he had a score to settle with someone, not like a boy being caught stealing.

“What’re you looking to do here?”

Yoland furrowed his dark brow, “Same as you.”

Link scoffed, “Doubt it.”

“What?”

They were interrupted for a moment by shouting, but Yoland looked irritated now. Link went on, frustration bubbling, “You looked angry out there. Who are you angry at?”

It had crossed Link’s mind that perhaps someone who wanted to disrupt the crown would compete and end up using the tournament for nefarious reasons. The vetting in the registration process was nearly nonexistent. There was a small competitor fee and an application. That was all. The thought of Zelda having to go through this in the first place already angered him. If she were to be harmed by the outcome, Link would feel at blame. How was he going to protect her when the threat is her husband?

Yoland narrowed his eyes, “I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”

Link gave him a long, cold stare. “Look,” he spoke lowly, “I don’t think you should be here. There’s something wrong and I will find out what it is.”

Yoland stared back and laughed bitterly to Link’s surprise. “Do you do this to all the suitors, Hero?”

“No, just you.”

“I’m honored,” he spat, turning on his heel. “Good luck.”

Part Two

[wolfyduskk]

KHOC WEEK~Day 2

Bonds of the Heart/Ties That Bind

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@khoc-week this one is gonna be a long one sorry bout that!

I’m going to try it kinda like most to least? but leave out some characters she does get close with for the sake of time >~> ANYHOW

#1 being Cleo Maiyu: Her Mama

“Tell them to sort it into this months invoices then mail out th-“

*...* “No I promised starlight i’d spend the day with her & you already took up all of our morning.”

*click* “Where to next Audri?”

“Book house mama!”

“It’s a store but you were close..”

•Cleo, even though it’s not her ideal career, worked at a desk job that payed well in order to support the little family they formed. Not saying that’s all she did for Audri, not at all! If she was needed by Audri, Cleo would drop everything to tend to her. She would accept every gift and proudly wear it or hang it up for everyone to see, giving her gifts & praise to try to make sure she knows she’s loved very much.

Audri’s health & safety is her top priority & willing to do anything to ensure it, wither it be a stern talk or a fist fight. That being said when Audri is sick even if it’s not major, won’t be allowed to lift even a finger in fear of making it worse & losing her.

While growing up Audri understood that work was important & usally left her to work when she worked from home but would stop in to drop off small gifts she made, coffee, or even a peaceful rest with the help of her colourful friends before their home fell & Audri vanished.

#2- Zeke Maiyu: Her Uncle ZeZe

“You sure you want to use this polish Dri? There’s prettier colours-“

“SHh NU! You love love green so its one of the prettiest colours too!!”

In the early years Audri was home schooled due to all the possible illnesses she could get in public schools & private school being to expensive. So since he worked completely from home, Zeke became her teacher during the weekdays & taught her things benifeical to her like reading, writing, cooking, health, as well as things that interested her like astrology & flowers.

They would have days where they would leave home to learn outside or just to play. Audri would alway wonder out of eyesight, (which was easy with technically one eye on you)(sorry not sorry) but never to hard to find again if you followed her giggles or her friends.

(Note:Zeke & Cleo are not mine, they belong to a close friend of mine)

Isa/Saïx

“I-Isa! Lea took off with Prof.Hoots again!”

“Don’t worry Audri, I’ll bring the Professer back & try to knock some sense into that dummy before your mother does..”

•The days she was allowed outside, she’d either go to the castle or look for her older friends who honestly play more of an older sibling role in Audri’s life, with Isa taking a more caring & mature sibling place, while Lea takes a teasing/bully but still fun & kind sibling role.

She bonded with Isa the quickest due to their love of the night, as well as to her, He was more comforting to be around since his personality is something she’s grown up with compared to her other ‘big brother’ Lea, who is much louder & competive. Not to say she dislikes his loud personality, just odd when it’s not her being the only extrovert anymore.

•Months after the fall Saïx would be the one to find her at the doors of Castle Oblivion with a large scar over her front & her once sparkling eyes dulled. Her body somehow survived & became a nobody.

She’d be seen at the start clinging to the back his coat as he was the first she saw & most familiar to her memory wise at the time. Although not an official member, she was given a new name, Aidrux & once more independent, missions.

Even though he became colder over time, he still took his brotherly role seriously with what little hearts he had over the years, just as she once more memories came back would care & help him as much as she was able. She’d stay by his side more once Axel started to stray away from them for Roxas & Xion.

•

Ienzo/Zexion

Ahh the extrovert adopts the introvert~ good quality content with that right there ANyway

“-And then we can make a super big flower like the book with the bean stalk and we’ll touch the stars!”

“...that’s not scientifically plausible Dri”

“Anything is possible when it’s you & me!!”

“..Still think we could make that gaint flower?”

“Thought it ‘wasn’t plausible’. Remember?”

“With you? ‘Anything is possible’ Dear”

“...Dork~.”

•With the tendency to explore unsupervised, it would’ve been only a matter of time before these two would meet. despite the tough shell Ienzo had, instead of breaking it with trying to make him talk, she waited for him to hatch on his own accord, by bringing small books or art supplies to work on silently with a few comments here & there. She knew forcing him to talk would only make it harder.

In time he did start talking although not by much, but enough to hold a conversation which made Audri practically shine when she heard him talk. The small talks the had honestly funny if you were able to hear them, from plans of the future to multi-coloured animals, they’ve talked about it all almost.

•Zexion was a big change to Aidrux once she remembered, but that didn’t mean she didn’t try over the years. Whether it be old books or the small remark there, she tried & forunatly so did he. With illusions of flower fields & cheeky statements, they became close again, well as close as you could get with no hearts anyway.

•Once whole again they weren’t really sure what to do with the sudden massive rush of emotions that filled them when they met up again, it scared both of them to the point they avoided one another for a while till that feeling became unbearable.

They can’t think of the right word to label their relationship but they know they care about eachother differently compared to the others, but not quite love..

But maybe in time it will.

Xemnas

•Oddly enough? He felt kinda safe to her even after she remembered he was the reason she was nobody. He didn’t mind her presence really, she was useful & benifited the Orginzation.

But, something remembered her, and not from when he was an apprentice no. Something before that, but what?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As for people she dislikes/hates/uncomfortable with?

•As a child she never felt completely comfortable with Braig, there were the rare times she felt okay but never completely. To this day she still isn’t sure why, but she’ll get an idea why soon.

•During KH2 hands down for a time, H A T E D Sora, as far as she knew, he was trying to stop them from getting their hearts back, stopping her from being with her family. (Id be mad to if banana shoes over here started basically destroying years of planning/ work) She knows the truth now, but being near him all alone still sparks some negative feelings.

•As childish as it is, any man with yellow eyes. She doesn’t remember completely how she got to RG but knows that a male with those eyes took her there & feeling scared.

that’s all I can think of atm but pretty proud of how much I did today! See y’all tomorrow

I have to admit tho out of Lea & Isa, I’ve always liked Lea more so its a little funny how little he’s mentioned lol.

[yukizakii]

finale

He hates him. He should hate him, but he doesn't. Because this is Kondou’s Shinsengumi that he entrusted to Hijikata, he must protect Hijikata. It has to end this way.

Souji's final moments, and his relationship with Death.

It has to end this way, is what he thinks as he tightens the ripped, dirty strips of cloth around his hand. He bites down on the cloth to hold it in place as he wraps it again around the hilt of his sword, tasting the dirt and blood from the road and battles fought before. It’s unpleasant, and for a moment his stomach seems to want to lurch and cough, but he pushes it down and clenches his teeth to pull the cloth tighter. It doesn’t matter anymore.

All that’s left is for him to die.

Souji isn’t afraid of death, hasn’t been for years. As a child, he had been afraid. He feared the death that had taken away his parents, and forced his sister, Mitsu, to grow up faster than she should have. After his parents’ passing, he had cried for months on end out of fear of Enma, the god of the afterlife, who would surely spirit him away as well. Yet as he had listened to the whispers behind closed doors in his home, his fear had been replaced with guilt. Souji had been young, but he was old enough to be able to draw his conclusions when he heard the tone of voice that came with the words burden and a waste of space. Afterwards, Souji simply felt nothing towards death other than acceptance that he too would meet that same fate someday, and perhaps for the better.

How wrong he had been.

Death was a blessing to him, a fortune. Death had stolen away his parents, but instead it bequeathed meaning into his life: to protect those who he cared the most. What a far cry he was from the hopeless child that had first arrived at the doorstep of the Shieikan, holding his wooden sword devoid of passion. Death was what had led him to Kondou, to begin training at the Shieikan as a live-in student and to find his purpose: To live to kill and be the Shinsengumi’s sword. The more that he wielded his sword and swore to follow the path of a warrior, the more that he realized how much death seemed to intertwine itself in every aspect of his life.

Perhaps Death was a blessing, but it certainly was not kind. When Souji had heard the word tuberculosis escape Dr. Matsumoto’s mouth, his first reaction was to laugh. He had been unable to stop, despite knowing how crazy he must have looked from an outside perspective. Surely this was karma, for the dozens of men he had killed on the battlefield without remorse. How especially thoughtful of Death to try and send him off by withering off his life force with each bloody cough. What mockery it was that the men Souji had killed would live vicariously until the last moment, but Death would not allow him the same grace.

Well, Death could try to take him down like that, but he wasn’t going to win. Death could go fuck itself if it thought it could make him go quietly. To live as a warrior was to walk the line of life and death every day, not knowing what would come next. Souji had embraced the adrenaline that came with the thought of potentially dying every time he raised his sword against another man. He loved the rush he got every time a blade got dangerously close to his face, or the feeling of his lungs heaving as he desperately tried to catch his breath in-between skirmishes. To die as a warrior would be an honor, and wouldn’t it be the most fitting for him to die on the battlefield, just as he had killed so many others?

Mitsu, he thinks, would be disappointed in him. Sad, even. But she will never know, and for the better; he knows that she has her own life and family to worry about during the war. She never did, and never will understand the lifestyle that her young brother chose to live. Souji had kept in touch with his sister sparingly throughout the years, but eventually he had stopped writing truths to her. His last letter a month ago indicated that he was fine, healthy, and participating in the Koyo Chinbutai with the remaining members of the Shinsengumi. He hopes that she will be happy with her life.

Kondou had written a letter to Mitsu as soon as he learned of Souji’s diagnosis, but Souji had been clever enough to have Chizuru intercept it for him. Chizuru-chan, can you offer to take Kondou-san and Hijikata-san’s mail today? Just say that you’re going on rounds with Sano. But give me Kondou-san’s mail. If you don’t do it, I’ll kill you. He remembers her round face staring back at him with confusion, before her features settled into one of sadness and understanding. Within a few hours the letter had been tossed into the fire as its final recipient, Chizuru watching him in silence.

Oh, little Chizuru. Frankly, she shocked him with her kind and selfless demeanor, even in the face of tragedy and death. He had expected her to instantly crumble like a child after witnessing what would be a series of nightmares to any other person, but it seemed that she stood with her back straighter with every harrowing adventure they went through. She was certainly one of, if not the strongest women that Souji had ever met. He thinks ruefully of the day they had first met—that innocent expression on her face had been unforgettable. He remembers the satisfying clink of the weight of his sword shifting as he had pointed it straight at her, and her eyes that seemed almost too large for her face fixating on the sharp tip. What a pity that I might have to kill such a cute little woman, he remembered thinking. But the last time Souji had seen her, he had been shocked by how much she had changed. She had chased after him with a stubbornness and determination that could have only grown out of pain and suffering. Her face had thinned as she had matured and grown, and he noticed that her eyes no longer had the innocent gleam from years before. Gone was that timid girl from that snowy night in Kyoto, replaced by a woman who had seen hurt and death and yet still raised her sword against enemies with them with unwavering loyalty.

That person is lucky to have her by his side.

Being in the Shinsengumi had changed them all more than they could have ever imagined. Souji and the Shieikan crew had always dreamed of being real warriors, but dreams could not have prepared them for reality. Kenjutsu practices turned to fights to the death, and bruises from wooden swords turned into nasty wounds that required stitches. Rumors, petty fights, and politics became daily roadblocks that they were forced to become accustomed to. The introduction of the Ochmizu and Rasetsu was perhaps the worst of all. But no matter how difficult things became, Kondou had remained kind and soft with every man and soldier, just as he had treated Souji as a student at the Shieikan. It was Kondou’s kindness, heart and unrivaled warrior spirit that made him a fitting leader of the Shinsengumi. Unlike that man.

That man, Souji thinks. That man’s name makes his blood want to boil, and when he thinks of his name now he subconsciously clenches his fist. Selfish, bilious, rude, and a man who had left Kondou to die.

But if Kondou had been the head of the Shinsengumi, Hijikata was the backbone and the spine that held it together. Kondou was a skilled orator and had the charisma and presence of a leader, but he was a gentle romanticist who liked to consult the books. On the other hand, Hijikata was all sharp edges and pragmatic, and a genius when it came to creating strategies that were critical to success. Even in the early days of the Shieikan, Hijikata had always been unyielding and harsh, allowing no one to talk down his dreams of hanging up his medicine box and taking a sword. When the opportunity had come to leave Edo and journey to Kyoto to join the Roshigumi, Hijikata had been the first to pull together the crew to plan their departure and involvement.

The Shieikan was where he grew up, but it was the Shinsengumi that became his home. When Souji thinks of the words family, he thinks of the Shinsengumi—and it is a family built by Kondou. For that reason alone, the Shinsengumi had been worth laying down his life for, all of these years. Souji thought himself as nothing more than a sword, and it was an honor to kill and bring death upon those that threatened the Shinsengumi’s progress. But beyond the skirmishes and public work associated to their name, there was a man who had shouldered burden after burden and rallied day and night for their success. The Shinsengumi and Kondou only rose to where it was today, because of Hijikata’s drive and leadership.

Souji knows that without Hijikata, there is no Shinsengumi. And because this is Kondou’s Shinsengumi that he entrusted to Hijikata, he must protect Hijikata. It has to end this way.

I heard that Hijikata Toshizou is staying in the inn in the next town over. Looks like he’s injured and only has one other companion with him. This will be an easy kill.

He hates him. It’s his fault that Kondou died, so he should hate him. He hates him, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t hate him. Though he would never admit it out loud, Hijikata has always been like a brother to him. A bitter and sour one for sure, but like a brother nonetheless. When Souji had fallen ill, Hijikata had somehow always been the first one to scold him to go back to bed and to order Chizuru to make him medicine or soup. Souji had teased him—What are you, a mother bird hovering over her hatchlings? Really, you don’t have to seem so worried about me, Hijikata-san. Despite their constant bickering and harsh words throughout the years, Souji knows that he is a gentle, caring man beneath the demon-like exterior. But more than that, he knows that Hijikata loves the Shinsengumi more than anyone else.

Souji does not have much time left to give to the Shinsengumi, but Hijikata does. Souji cannot allow him to die. It has to end this way.

The lamps go off from the enemy, and he is alerted back to the present from his thoughts. He lets go of the cloth from his teeth, and drops his arms to his side. His right hand is now his sword—fitting now, that his body is now one with his sword. He closes his eyes, and breathes in the fresh night air. He lets his mind go blank, and draws on the power stored within his body to turn him into a Rasetsu. For the first time in months, he feels the air and power rush through his lungs and fill every space in his body with unbound strength; tuberculosis suddenly feels like nothing but a distant memory.

In the face of Death, he feels more alive than ever.

He steps into the moonlight, and hears murmurs from the men as they look at him. Gunshots whiz through the air, but he sidesteps them so easily. He hears the familiar Who the hell are you being shouted into the night, and his lips curl into a smile. Would these be his last words? How fitting, because he would absolutely love nothing more.

“My name is Okita Souji, the 1st captain of the Shinsengumi!”

Tonight, for the last time, he will be the Shinsengumi’s sword. Okita Souji smiles, and allows himself to fall into the familiar embrace of the battlefield.

Goodbye, Hijikata-san.

[alkylic]

A Dragon’s Void

Chapter 1//Next

Xisuma has been suddenly changed into a rampaging Ender Dragon-- There was little to no warning, the only the person that knows anything about the void is the problem to begin with- 

Will he ever become human again?

“Come on Xisuma, you know I don’t need-- What- how many is this! Like 20 different boxes of wither roses!” Iskall light-heartedly teased the admin, as he shuffled through the mountain of boxes with wither roses provided by X. While Xisuma snickered at the Swed's behavior.

“Well, it’s your fault for not giving me clear instr--”

The sentence was abruptly cut short, followed by a sudden thud. Iskall was still talking on and on about-- Something- He wasn’t sure- His hearing was ringing with pain. He blinked, and the Swedish man was already next to him, his mouth was moving-- but what was he saying? Everything was blending together. X was sure he said he was fine, maybe Iskall didn’t hear it? X spoke again, but still nothing, Iskall was still panicking, now talking into his communicator-- Suddenly, everything started to feel warm- and nothing hurts anymore.

He blacked out.

--

>Iskall85 was slain by Ender Dragon

>Rendog: Iskall you good bro?

>Iskall85: yeah im fine, just dont know what happened lul

>Docm77: what do you mean

>Iskall85: was talking with x and he suddenly collapsed on me

>Docm77: that has nothing to do with the dragon

>Iskall85: i know right, it's super weird

>Iskall85: anyways, i slept super far away, whos at the shopdis rn?

>Rendog: i am in the medieval district

>Rendog: hold on ill go get your stuff for ya

>Iskall85: thanks my dude 

>Rendog: Iskall?

>Iskall85: yeah?

>Rendog: why are some buildings broken in the shopping district?

>Iskall85: wdym it was fine when i was there

>Rendog: some buildings have huge claw marks over it-- 

>Rendog: oh my god

>Iskall85: ??

>Rendog: is that xis

>Rendog was slain by Ender Dragon

--

“Alright, um. I definitely thought I was seeing things when it happened. But its apparently real! Good to know.” Iskall breathed out, trying to make it light.

“Iskall. Our fucking admin turned into a bloodthirsty Ender dragon.” The creeper man deadpanned as he sharpened his trident. The three hermits now gathered on top of the Sahara building, taking in the damage that their admin was causing. 

“So…. What do we do now?” Ren asked, attempting to break the silence.

“I mean. If he is an Ender dragon now, we should be able to just- kill him, and everything should go back to normal? Respawning always fixes player-related issues.” False suggested while landing on top of the white structure, back from scouting the area.

“Wouldn’t hurt to try I guess--” Ren started, before getting knocked off of Sahara from a kick coming from behind.

“Ren!” Iskall yelled, turning around quickly with his bow, only to see X already turning towards him, this time with a punch. He scrambled out of the way, barely dodging it. The force had knocked a decent dent into the roof of the structure. He shuddered at the thought of taking that punch. False quickly took X’s attention from Iskall and slashed her sword at him. The diamond sword clanged at the purple, amethyst scales on the admin’s arms. A horrible scratching noise erupted from the contact of the two. 

The dragon quickly swapped his position, sweeping his tail onto the floor horizontally. Tripping False from her footing. Iskall joined back into the fight, shooting at him with his bow. With the arrows piercing into the British man’s back. While Ren flanked him with his ax. X let out a loud roar, stumbling for a moment, before turning his attention to Ren. Launching himself at the man. Before being interrupted by Doc. The trident stabbed through the armor the other was wearing. Taking a huge chunk off of the admin’s health bar displayed from the screens. False, ran from behind and drove her sword into his back. A roar even more horrible and strained from before erupted from Xisuma-- A wet liquid dropped onto Doc’s trident--

Was that…. Tears?

There was no doubt about it, tears ran from the dragon’s eyes, almost as if pleading for life. The health bar of the Boss was draining away-- Doc quickly let go of his trident, and took out a splash potion of healing and smashed it onto the ground. X suddenly realized he had what little of his strength back, and scrambled off to fly away from the hermits. Still with False’s sword in his back.

“Doc, what are you doing?!” False yelled.

“I-- I don’t think he would respawn from this,” Doc spoke quietly, “If he really is an Ender dragon now. He won’t be able to respawn like us players.” He realized. 

The four were silent. Thinking about it- Yeah. X is basically a mob now. And if they did kill him--

No, they won’t kill him, they didn’t kill him. 

“Where would he go now?...” Ren said, “We have a lot of lands to cover if we are searching for him…”

The other hermits stared at Doc, who seemed to be thinking of an answer.

“We can regroup at Area 77 for now. We have better equipment there, and we can cover more area with the drones-- Plus, it’ll be the safest place for us.”

“...Whatever you say.”

[sylwritesstuff]

002 Love (1347)

Part of the Light to Dancing 100x100 List.

Rating: PG13 (language)

----

“Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness of withering of tarnishing.” – Anaïs Nin

Or it stayed burning and strong in somebody for six thousand bloody years. No discussion needed, thanks. It was obvious in everything he did, every miracle performed just to make him smile. He'd never betrayed Aziraphale, never personally. And his feelings were still strong, healthy, and undamaged. Bright and shiny and new. 

His way of communicating his feelings had been just fine. Just fine. Why'd it all have to change now? What did Aziraphale expect from a demon? He didn't have a tender bone in him. He was tough and rough, hard as bloody nails. He'd always been that way. If the angel had other expectations, that was his fault. 

"Am I merely your friend?" 

"Wot."

"Well, I- I only ask because... Well... Once you go to Hell for someone, things seem... a bit... grander?" 

And he'd frozen. Everything, including Aziraphale, had frozen. He hadn't even known he could do that. Seemed like a dangerous option, freezing an angel. He regretted it, though. He couldn't get that soft, sweet, worried expression out of his mind. There'd been hope in it, damn him. Damn it, not him. Never him. 

He glanced up quickly, though expected no answer. 

But that only proved his point! His feelings were still there. They'd always been there and would always be. 

Time returned. "They could be grander."

"But are they?" Aziraphale pressed. "Am I only your friend, Crowley?" 

"You're my best friend. Isn't that enough?" 

No. No, no, and one big heaping order of no. It was not enough. He hadn't needed to stop time to see heartbreak in those blue eyes. He'd never get Aziraphale's heartbroken gaze out of his mind. Crowley leaned on his horn more for the annoyance than to make anyone get out of his way. 

"Of c-course it's enough. It's- That's all I want. Obviously. You're a demon."

Yeah. Yeah, he was a fucking demon. Aziraphale was a holy angel. What did that matter? Had it ever mattered? Not to Crowley. Not to the wily serpent who'd tempted Eve and Adam. Who'd slithered up the wall to smirk at another annoying angel only to find someone he'd never met before. Someone precious enough to give away a flaming sword, a literal gift from God, to the humans he was supposed to be keeping inside.

He'd been having these stupid feelings ever since, always keeping a special eye on the angel. He'd always made sure to creep up on him. He'd done so much for Aziraphale. 

"I suppose I should be returning to the shop then, um, friend. I'll see you soon."

"Maybe."

"Maybe. Right. Maybe. Um. Goodbye, Crowley."

"Bye."

Maybe, he'd said. Maybe! Of course they'd see each other again soon. Crowley never wanted to let him out of his sight. They'd saved the world only a few weeks ago. It was the blink of an eye for them. It didn't matter.

But it did. It did matter to one of them. 

Crowley screeched to a halt. He wanted the car to be at Aziraphale's bookshop, so it was. He wanted the door to be unlocked as he approached, so it was. 

"We're closed," Aziraphale called. 

"Good. I'm not here to buy a book."

The angel peeked out from behind a shelf, feet several feet off the ground. The hurt went in and out of his eyes. "Crowley? What brings you here?" 

"Don't you look at me like that."

Aziraphale blinked. "Like what?" 

Crowley ripped off his sunglasses, pointing them accusingly. "Like that. Hurt like I've done something wrong to you. Stop it."

Aziraphale looked away from him to calmly put books on shelves and that was almost worse. "You haven't done anything. I don't know why you'd come in here so angrily, however. We weren't fighting, were we? You made your feelings very clear."

Crowley gaped at him. "Wha- Are you having a fucking laugh?" 

"Oh, Crowley..."

"Don't you 'oh, Crowley' me. Get down here."

"Not if you're going to be rude."

"I can fly too, y'know."

Sighing, Aziraphale sank down. The books zipped into their respective places and his hands clasped. "I know. I would really prefer it if you didn't shout at me. Did I do something wrong?" 

"No."

"Are- are your people giving you a second chance?" 

"Absolutely not. Hell isn't about second chances."

"Then why are you so upset?" 

"Because you need everything spelled out for you, don't you? You only understand things if they're written down or said aloud in plain, simple words."

"That's hardly-" 

"If you didn't, you'd have figured out by now that I bloody love you."

Aziraphale's lashes fluttered, his grip on his own hands tightening. "Excuse me?" 

"You heard me. Friendsss," he hissed. "If you really think I treat my friends the way I treat you, there's something wrong with you. I'm a demon. I'm not supposed to be doing good miracles. Hamlet? Play's boring and downright depressing, but you loved it. You still go see it and you were around when it was written. I did that for you."

"You made me go to Edinburgh-" 

"It was fair. You lost the coin toss. I didn't owe you a damn thing, but you looked at me with your hopeful pretty eyes and what was I supposed to do? Let the play flop? Let you be sad? You already had to ride a bleeding horse.

"Oh, oh! And oysters. I'd eaten oysters before, you ninny. I just hadn't eaten them with you and you were so- so adorable trying to tempt me. As if you needed to try. Even then you didn't need to try. You never have. I've made my feelings crystal bloody clear for six thousand years and you ask me if we're just friends. For Earth's sake, angel, you're my best friend. That means I love you. How was I s'posed to say that?"

"Well... With your words, for a start. And perhaps a bit, um, less angrily. Perhaps." Aziraphale fidgeted, staring at him. There wasn't hurt now. Crowley couldn't tell what it was, but it wasn't hurt. "This whole time, you've..."

"Yes."

"But you've never said so."

"And make myself vulnerable? You never would've said it back. Things would've been awkward. You're not saying it back now."

"You haven't said it nicely, yet."

Crowley latched onto his forearms, hiking him up. "I'm not-" He was smiling. Crowley cut himself off, blinking at the smile reflected in his eyes. "You-" 

"Say it again. And don't shout it at me, Crowley, please. I'm not one of your plants."

"I don't love my plants."

"Don't lie."

Crowley stared at him, watching patience and a deep fondness filling his gaze. Stupid ruddy angel. He nuzzled their brows together with a gentleness that made Aziraphale sigh happily. "I... I love you."

"I love you too, you silly thing."

Something long broken in Crowley's chest healed. "Do you?" 

"Yes."

"Really?" 

Aziraphale laughed. "You've done so much for me, my dear, even when I don't look at you imploringly. My books survived a bombing, if you recall. I do. I'm not an idiot, I've told you, but some things do need to be said. I've never been in love before and I do enjoy words."

"I'm..." Shocked. "Better with actions."

"Yes." Aziraphale closed the distance, shocking Crowley further with a kiss that managed to be both the most electrifying and the softest he'd ever experienced. And it ended far too soon. "I'm not quite as good at those, but I hope that's alright."

"...yeah."

"Good. So. More than friends, are we?" 

He was too amazed to scoff. "Yes."

"Good." Aziraphale beamed and Crowley lessened his grip to pull him into an actual embrace. Aziraphale stayed on his toes, arms wrapped around his shoulders. "Silly serpent," he teased. 

Crowley tucked his chin atop the angel's head, hiding his smile. "Shut it."