#you feed so well i understand why your books went wild

[stupidpersonhere]

SOTR SPOILERS AND THG SPOILERS???

I didn't consider myself a hunger games fan, nor one to write about character analysis but sotr is filled with so in your face character beats that keep rackling like a maracca and now it's the turn of ... Caesar Fickerman!

now that i'm reading and realizing suzane collins like to make her characters characters on their own right as well as symbols I think we have a reason to believe caesar was not a rebel, nor a secret snow agent...i think he is just a very good host and represents the Capitol population overall opinion.

Plutarch says himself that while some people humanize and emphatize with the Districts, there is a still a divide within. he explicidly states Capitol citizens would like to bring in their extended family out of Districts - how you want to spin and say what real world issues is commenting on is neither here or there , what i find most interesting is the important distinction of extended family. Capitol citizens humanize people related to them, of their taste, papable who fit within their view; anyone else is a wild, infested and inhumane animal less than a pet, a little more than a rabid dog.

I think - I don't know if it's supported by the text, it's a little bit of a stretch - that while some Capitol people have grown somewhat tired of the regime and still humanize a little the Districts, there has been a non small rise of nationalists who beheld the Districts as inhumane beasts better to keep with a collar on their neck and this divide is reflected by none other than Caesar Fickerman.

In the Hunger Games (I can't speak for tbosas) Katniss herself states Caesar doesn't go out of his way to attack or belittle the tributes - he is still a pompous Capitolite but it is implied he follows the plan Mentors have, plotting a story to aid tributes chances - this could be a reflection of the Capitol opinion, that they are doing a favor to the backwards tributes, they are magnificient souls extending a hand to the impure so it shows in the interviews.

Here? We have none that. Caesar lapses at the chance to mock the Careers, to call them brutes and foolish for using brawn instead of brain while he praises the Newcomers for not attempting to lick Capitol's boots; he is rewarding them with kind and more positive interviews for knowing their place despite having history Careers still perform better overall in the Games.

Another tidbit I like is how the Capitol still tweaks the interviews, a small comment that as much skill Caesar has they still find the need to add their own spin, commenting authorative regimes always twist and mix the opinion and foreshadowing a little (this is a bit of a strech) his execution. Caesar represents the Capitol's opinion and authorative regimes don't like when their population's opinion differs to their own, it's no wonder that was one of the first things Coin did.

[robininthelabyrinth]

"The Untamed", but Jiggy has a white cat whom he tells everything.- May or may not be sentient or 'spiritual' like Fairy in the book. (From an idea I've thrown around with my friend @yraelviii)

ao3

He found the cat in Qinghe.

“What are you doing here?” Meng Yao said, crouching down to try to scoop out the little handful of white fluff underneath his cabinet only for it to bare its infantile fangs and him and hiss, moving its butt around as if it thought his fingers ought to be running in fear from its fearsome pounce. “How did you even get in here?”

The cat – a kitten, really, small and scrawny, dirty and covered in ashes as if it had just run out of a forge, but no less passionate for it – squirmed in his hand as he picked it up.

“Who owns you?” Meng Yao asked, and the cat hissed viciously as if to shout no one owns me!

Something about that echoed in Meng Yao’s heart – no one owns me, he thought – and so he fished up some extra meat from his plate, filled a small platter with water, and used the sleeve of an old outfit that needed to be taken to be laundered anyway to wipe the grey ash off of the cat’s white fur while it was distracted by sniffing suspiciously at the food and water that it ultimately declined to consume.

“Just this once,” he told it.

-

Doing good work will often only bring you more work, Meng Yao reflected, and so it was with the cat as much as with anything else. He still didn’t know how the cat managed to get into his rooms, and he sometimes dwelled on paranoid suspicions that there were hiding-holes in his chambers designed to allow others to spy on him, just as there had been in certain rooms in the brothel – though even at his worst moment of uncertainty and doubt he didn’t really think so. He knew that it wasn’t Nie Mingjue’s style even if Meng Yao had been someone important enough to care about, and anyway he didn’t question his own ability to discovery such a thing if it had really existed. He’d checked.

At any rate, however it kept getting into his rooms, the cat was now a regular presence there, lurking around.

It didn’t want to be petted and greeted all attempts to feed it with utter disdain, but despite its general standoffishness it seemed to like being in the same vicinity as Meng Yao, enjoying nothing more than to settle haughtily by the window in his room and watch over Meng Yao as if it thought he might get lost without its supervision.

Meng Yao thought it was probably someone’s pet gotten lost, or maybe even just a feral cat from outside (Qinghe had a fair number of them) that had figured out that it could access the good life by going inside, but it was very hard to sincerely worry over the ill-intentions of a cat, and he was already very busy.

If he didn’t need to care for it, then it wasn’t adding to his troubles. Let the cat sit where it liked!

Meng Yao had found that life in Qinghe was both different and similar to life in Yunping, the only life he had to compare it to, and it amused him to think of the great and righteous Nie sect as an overly large brothel, with the main difference being that they sold their strength where women sold their bodies. In both places there needed to be order, someone to sort things out and tell people where to put things and what to do; in both places Meng Yao, with his quick mind and excellent memory, his sense of understanding people and anticipating their needs, was utterly invaluable in arranging such things.

He had, admittedly, expected it to take a little more time to climb up to the top – the only person he couldn’t understand in this place was Nie Mingjue, who was far too easy to deceive and smiled at him like he really thought they were friends instead of just being master and servant, who appreciated his talents and told him so, who shrugged off his mistakes and had faith that he would do better, who ignored his status instead of lording it over him the way Meng Yao had expected him to. Even when he was angry, when he shouted and slammed his hands against things, Nie Mingjue never once mentioned Meng Yao’s background, and the only things he seemed to hold against him were his own mistakes.

Meng Yao still didn’t know why Nie Mingjue would act so rashly as to promote someone he had just met to a position as high as viceroy, much less actually trust him, but it didn’t really matter. However quixotic his method of reaching a place of power, he was here and his next task was to keep his place until he’d made a reputation for himself.

Part of that he did through his work, good critical work that people needed and which had always won him gratitude even if not respect, but the other part of it was in cultivation. That was the way in which the Nie sect was not like a brothel: you couldn’t just be clever, you couldn’t even just be beautiful - to be respected, you had to cultivate.

Not that wanting to cultivate was a problem for Meng Yao.

He’d always had a memory like a sponge and a body that obeyed his every wish, his childhood of mimicking the beautiful dances of his mother and her ‘sisters’ serving him well in transitioning to learning the sword even if he was years behind everyone else; his mother had bought a thousand fake cultivation manuals for him and he’d learned them all, each one of them more useless than the next, and now that he was here in the cultivation world at long last, he was finally, finally, finally able to cultivate for real.

Using Nie sect methods, of course, even if that wasn’t what he really wanted.  

He’d started as soon as he could when he arrived, endlessly grateful that the Nie sect provided training sabers without cost, and he’d snuck one away back to his room so that he could practice on his own time, knowing it would take a long time to form his golden core. He’d debated with himself for a long time as to whether or not it was worth it to invest in a real one – if the training sabers were free, then real proper Nie sabers were somehow three times as expensive as the swords you could buy in the marketplace, and you could only put in a deposit without any notion of when you’d actually get the saber, apparently subject to the contrary dispositions of the spiritual weaponsmiths that made them.

In the end he decided to go for it more or less on a whim, emptying out his hard-built savings to place the order, even though he knew he would one day need to discard whatever they made for him in favor of a sword.

The Jin sect would accept him one day. He would make them.

(If the Nie sect cultivation style was good for one thing, he thought as he went through endless drills of slashing and thrusting, it was that you could work out your anger while you were doing it. There was nothing quite like imagining the face of someone you hated and then bringing down the practice saber in a vicious slash, and oh, but Meng Yao hated so very many people.)

The cat liked watching him train most of all, although Meng Yao suspected it was because seeing him jump around panting was funnier than watching him sit at his desk and gracefully write out letters. It would occasionally start purring, a sound a little like a crackling fire, and eventually Meng Yao got into the habit of going to run his fingers through its fur as a reward for himself when he successfully completed a training sequence.

After a while, he started talking to it, too.

“That commander,” Meng Yao said as he brought the training saber down. His real saber was still on the order, probably stalled purposefully; the smith assigned the task was probably one of the people that thought they were too good to deal with him because of who his mother was, and it’d all been a waste of money in the end. Completely a waste, even if Nie Mingjue had smiled so happily at him when he’d heard about Meng Yao placing the order, his eyes warm and soft and how had that man survived so long in this wretched world of politics and pain, didn’t he know he would always be deceived and betrayed?

Why should he be the exception to the rule, when everyone else had to suffer?

Meng Yao threw away the unhelpful thoughts and thrust the saber forward, as if piercing his invisible opponent straight through the chest.

“That commander.” He minutely corrected his form and stabbed again, this time as if piercing through the belly: a gut wound, a slow and awful way to die. “He’ll regret what he said to me.”

The cat’s purring intensified.

Meng Yao briefly had the wild thought that it approved.

“I just –” Another thrust. “– need to figure out –” An overhead slash. “– how.”

-

Meng Yao ended up taking the cat with him when he left Qinghe.

It probably was someone’s pet and he was opening himself up to a charge of stealing, a charge he wouldn’t be able to defend himself against now that he no longer had Nie Mingjue’s protection –

(Nie Mingjue who had wept tears and blood at what Meng Yao had done, betrayed at last after having finally encountered a deception he could not swallow, who had banished him from the Unclean Realm even after everything Meng Yao had done for him – who had, despite it all, still hidden an entire bag of gold and Meng Yao’s favorite Qinghe snacks in Meng Yao’s things with a short note claiming that it was for unpaid wages. As if Meng Yao had ever let a single pay period go by without claiming exactly what he was due. As if Nie Mingjue still cared despite throwing him out, as if he worried about how Meng Yao might live, as if he hadn’t given up the privilege of caring about things like that – )

He didn’t really care.

He wanted the cat, so he took it. It was the least Qinghe could do for him.

The cat spent all its time in his new rooms in the hotels he stayed out as he traveled: in his bedroom and study, the little gardens that, when available, he liked to use to train in the mornings and evenings. It would even follow him when he took a bath (although that was with great reluctance on the part of the cat, and only if Meng Yao were taking an especially long time in the bath and the cat was worried he’d drowned, yowling angrily as if it could revive him through the power of its voice). If it had once belonged to someone else, it now belonged to Meng Yao, and Meng Yao didn’t give away anything that was his.

“I’ve made worse mistakes,” he said defiantly to the cat, which blinked at him from its side of the carriage he’d used some of the gold to rent. “It’s only that I don’t want to review them in order to think of which ones those might be.”

The cat got up, stretched its back, and walked over to butt its head against Meng Yao’s hand before turning and going back to its spot by the window.

Meng Yao wasn’t sure if that was a sign of agreement or if the cat just thought there was a treat in his hand. Not that the cat had ever accepted treats from his hand.

He still wasn’t sure what the cat ate, actually, but he was sure the cat would make its feelings known now that they weren’t somewhere with a dependable kitchen, though he supposed there was always the possibility that it would start picking up hunting.

“Wen Chao said that they’d aimed at the Cloud Recesses,” Meng Yao said, deciding not to dwell on the things of the past. There was nothing he could do about it. Nothing he could do about Nie Mingjue’s betrayed eyes or the snacks he hadn’t even known Nie Mingjue had known he’d liked, about the hand-me-down guans and trinkets that Nie Huaisang had insisted were part of his wardrobe when he’d helped him pack even though he knew Nie Huaisang still wore them sometimes, about the fact that he should have been ordered to take the Nie sect’s braids out of his hair when he passed by the gates for the final time since he didn’t deserve them anymore but the two disciples there had just nodded at him and let him pass without a word – nothing to do about the saber he’d ordered, still on the list to be made, and maybe if he made something of himself out in the world alone he would one day come back to claim it at last. “That’s where we’re going now. Lan Xichen might be in danger. I have to help him.”

The cat made a sound like it was considering hacking up a hairball.

“He was kind to me,” Meng Yao said, feeling defensive. “The only one who never judged me –”

Since he’d decided to forget about Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang, wiping it out of his mind as if it had never been, that was even true.

“– and he’s a proper gentleman, a good man. I’ll help him.”

That Lan Xichen was also a powerful man was something he wished he didn’t think of, but he couldn’t help the way he was.

“After I help him, I’ll figure out what to do next,” Meng Yao said, like a liar, and the cat looked at him like he was stupid – which he was being, because of course he’d already planned out what to do next, figured out his next move, and there was no point in lying to a cat about it. Meng Yao had skills that were only useful in management, not labor, and the only thing he left to sell was information about the sect from which he’d just been ejected. “No one owns me, right? Let it be the Wen sect.”

The cat did not purr, but it didn’t condemn him, either.

That would have to do.

-

It was a good thing that Meng Yao’s cat was self-sufficient, he thought, because he had neither the time nor the stomach to feed it during his time at the Wen sect.

If he had thought he had worked hard at the Nie sect, he now knew differently: at least there the worst he had faced from his colleagues had been disdain and not outright murder attempts, back-stabbing and undercutting to try to show off to Wen Ruohan, and all the while the man himself demanded more and more from him without the slightest care for his own well-being. He was grist to the mill for Wen Ruohan, no matter how much the Chief Cultivator enjoyed having another man’s prized deputy as his own – Wen Ruohan might had been very nearly driven insane by the Yin Metal, but he still remembered old grudges – and it was night and day away from Nie Mingjue’s reliance on him that was based on trust, rather than reluctantly satisfied suspicion and paranoia.

Meng Yao had hidden the cat as best as he could from the start, thinking rightfully that people would try to use it against him, and to his relief it seemed that no one else had yet laid eyes on it and identified it as his own, despite its white fur standing out like a beacon to his sight. Unfortunately there were some people that had managed to figure out that he had a cat, even if they didn’t lay eyes on it themselves, and he’d had more than a few incidents in which someone had left poisoned meat out on the floor by his room in order to catch it.

The cat seemed as unimpressed with that as anything else.

Instead, the cat seemed to have taken up hunting as its pastime. It brought back the corpses of small birds, the Yin Metal-infused little spies, full of resentful energy, that Wen Ruohan had developed for his sons to use. At first Meng Yao worried about the cat getting somehow poisoned by them, but time went on and it seemed to be fine, even thriving. It had grown into a proper cat now, no longer a kitten, and it enjoyed licking its white and shining fur until it was gleaming.

It didn’t like Meng Yao’s training sessions as much – he trained with a sword now, two-faced just like him, and in a dozen different styles, Wen and Jiang and Jin, always Jin – so sometimes Meng Yao would go back to doing the old Nie sect style again, knowing the cat would recognize the familiar movements, and it was a surefire way to get the cat to purr.

The Nie sect style was also still the best for getting out anger, all aggression and sharp movements, and Meng Yao still had a lot of anger inside of him. He was starting to think he always would.

At least here in the Nightless City he could kill the people he hated, as long as he did so in low and dirty ways that didn’t trouble Wen Ruohan or interfere with his plans, and yet every time he did it, he felt no relief, only a vile and wretched stickiness that came, perhaps, from that awful Yin Metal that he had schemed over yet couldn’t seem to escape.

The cat didn’t like the Yin Metal one bit. It hissed and scratched, and in one notable incident seemed like it was going to pounce on it directly if Meng Yao hadn’t caught it mid-leap and shoved it into his sleeve before anyone had noticed it.

“You’re going to get me into trouble,” Meng Yao told the cat next time he trained, using the soft sword he’d hidden away for a time of need to hack and slash in the Nie way, which didn’t work with a soft sword at all but which made him feel strangely better. He was currently imagining Wen Ruohan’s head underneath a saber, his head and the heads of all those corpse puppets he’d created. “I will cut you loose if you do that.”

The cat rolled onto its back and showed its soft and fluffy belly, which only the truly unwise would seek to lay a hand on – Meng Yao still had scars – and Meng Yao rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, I know,” he said. “No one owns you, not even me. But do me a favor and don’t screw this up for me. Not when I’m so close.”

Lan Xichen had been accepting his letters and feeding them to Nie Mingjue, who trusted as blindly as he ever did. Meng Yao wished sometimes that he didn’t, that he would learn, that he would put some defenses up on that stupid reckless heart of his, but on the other hand it suited his plans very well that he didn’t.

Soon, he thought. Soon.

Soon he’d know what he needed to do.

-

“Now he chooses not to trust people,” Meng Yao complained to his cat. “Now. Now!”

The cat purred.

It wasn’t that Meng Yao (damnit, Jin Guangyao, he had a new name, he was Jin Guangyao now) couldn’t understand Nie Mingjue’s reluctance to trust him – fool me once, fool me twice, but three times seemed to be the other man’s breaking point – and in some ways he understood it more than ever now that he had been accepted back by the Jin sect, clothed in the gold he’d always deserved to wear.

Jin Guangshan hadn’t lost much in the war, not like the other sects, and the second it was over he was already scheming. Meng Yao – Jin Guangyao – was pulled right into the thick of it at once, less for his spying capability than for his sheer disposability, the fact that Jin Guangshan wasn’t willing to burden his pure and righteous heir with black matters that he was more than happy to taint the son of his whore with. With Nie Mingjue, general and hero of the Sunshot Campaign, representing the only real threat to the Jin sect’s domination, even if he didn’t want to be, Jin Guangyao was bound to be in opposition to him.

It made sense for Nie Mingjue not to trust him.

It irritated him regardless.

Still, lack of trust or no, Nie Mingjue had succumbed to Lan Xichen’s impassioned arguments and had agreed to swear brotherhood with him, even if Jin Guangyao suspected that Nie Mingjue’s primary motivation was to keep a better eye on him and scold him the way he did Nie Huaisang. It would be politically beneficial to Jin Guangyao to be tied in such a way to Nie Mingjue – it would suit his own desires as well, though that was less important – and so he had of course agreed as well, and he was planning on going to their oath ceremony in the outfit he had chosen for himself, gold from neck to foot, a sword he’d taken from the treasury since no one would order him one of his own, and a hat on his head like the ones his mother so admired to make up for his lack of height and to hide the Nie sect braids he still habitually wore underneath.

An old habit, and one he really ought to break, really. Ideally before Nie Mingjue figured it out and told him to cut it out.

There was a knock on the door, a familiar pounding, and the cat looked up, intrigued, even as Jin Guangyao sighed voicelessly to himself. Perhaps he had waited too long.

Perhaps it would be better to make a clean cut in this way, too.

He opened the door.

“Sect Leader Nie,” he greeted, thinking to himself that it would only be a few more hours before he was entitled to call the man da-ge as if they were nearly equals and how strange that would be. “Can this humble one help you?”

“Can I come in?” Nie Mingjue asked gruffly, his eyes lingering on Jin Guangyao’s uncovered and Nie-braided hair, just as he might have expected. Had expected.

Jin Guangyao nodded and stepped back, allowing him in, and closed the door behind him. “Could I get the sect leader some refreshments?” he asked politely, but Nie Mingjue seemed to have come to a stop right in the entranceway, surprise written all over his features. “Sect Leader Nie?”

Nie Mingjue was staring at Jin Guangyao’s cat.

“…Sect Leader Nie?”

Did Nie Mingjue not like cats? There were an endless number of feral cats in Qinghe, so it seemed implausible, and yet, here Nie Mingjue was, looking at the cat like he’d never seen such a thing before in its life.

Of course, at that exact moment, Jin Guangyao’s cat, the traitor, hopped off its pillow and went straight to rub itself against Nie Mingjue’s leg, purring like a little maniac.

Jin Guangyao stared at it, feeling thoroughly betrayed by what he would have previously said was his thoroughly unsociable cat, who had taken years to warm up to him enough to give him half the attention it was now bestowing freely on Nie Mingjue. Was this the heavens deciding to mock him for his earlier betrayals?

Alternatively, Nie Mingjue might just be very good with cats, which Jin Guangyao could believe. Perhaps he even carried in his pockets some of the Qinghe vine that cats were said to be so enamored of, although certainly Meng Yao’s cat had never once before shown an interest in such things before.

“…what’s its name?” Nie Mingjue croaked, voice hoarse. He was still staring fixedly at the cat, looking as though his entire world had shattered around him. He hadn’t even looked so unsettled when Jin Guangyao had so viciously mocked him at the Nightless City, and at the time he’d thought he was going to die and be turned into a corpse puppet to murder all his loved ones.

Jin Guangyao was tempted to say something rude or facetious, something like ‘I just call it Cat, why, do you name random cats?’, but the cat had been a good companion of his for a long time now and he couldn’t do that to it, even if he was currently planning on taking an extra long bath to force the cat to miserably linger by the door to the bathing room, screeching in unhappiness at the wet, but bravely (if grumpily) supervising him to make sure he didn’t drown.

“Hensheng,” he said, because that was in fact what he’d named it – it meant hatred for life, which was not exactly an auspicious name but which had stuck from the very moment he had thought it up – and waited to hear Nie Mingjue’s judgment. “It’s not normally quite so sticky,” he added in an attempt to save some face. “With most people.”

“Well, it’s me, that’s different,” Nie Mingjue said, and maybe the man really was just the human incarnation of the plant cats liked so much. Meng Yao really wouldn’t put it past him. “You...you cultivate in the Nie sect style? Still?”

Jin Guangyao blinked, surprised by the change in subject.

“Yes,” he said, a little hesitantly. He cultivated many styles now, although it was always the Jin sect style when he was in public. But he still had all the anger in his belly to vent – even more so now than before, anger at his father, anger at Madame Jin, anger at his brother born to a blessed life, anger at all those disciples that sneered at him even after he’d been legitimized, anger, anger, anger – and the Nie sect style had always been the best for that.

And anyway, it made the cat purr.

“Is that a problem, Sect Leader Nie?” he asked.

“Not at all,” Nie Mingjue said, and when he turned to look at him his eyes were warm and soft the way they’d been all the way before the fiasco with Xue Yang, shimmering with tears of joy and a smile that seemed to come straight from his heart, the foolish easily deceived man. It was so unexpected that Jin Guangyao actually took a full two steps back, his jaw dropping a little. “I’m happy for you. Very happy.”

He actually wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, dashing away the tears.

“You should come back to the Unclean Realm to pick it up when the brotherhood ceremony is done,” he added nonsensically. “I can’t imagine how long it’s been waiting for you.”

“…what?” Jin Guangyao said. “Pick up what?”

“Hensheng,” Nie Mingjue said, which – what? “Your saber. Hensheng.”

His saber?

The saber he’d never gotten, having been banished from the Unclean Realm before the order was finished, the one he’d spent all his savings on just in putting in the deposit, the one he’d never actually finished paying off? He remembered it, of course, and sometimes it still itched under his skin that he’d never gotten what he was owed because everything that was owed to him he deserved to get in the end. But…

“Hensheng is my cat,” he said.

Nie Mingjue blinked at him. “That’s not a cat,” he said. “That’s a saber spirit.”

Jin Guangyao’s gaze dropped down to the cat.

The cat that never seemed to eat anything or drink anything, that never once fell for the poisoned meat or accepted his offers of treats, that no one in the Nightless City had ever seen with their own eyes; the cat that could consistently get into his rooms despite there being no holes for it to enter, as if it had simply passed through the walls like a ghost.

Like a spirit.

The cat, which purred whenever Jin Guangyao practiced the Nie sect forms, swinging a saber with rage in his heart.

The cat to which he had confessed all his anger, all his frustration, all his rage, all the feelings he never gave to any human being around him – the sabers of the Nie sect thrived on such emotions, those feelings that encouraged them and strengthened them, developing the saber spirits that made each one of them a spiritual weapon unlike any other, with power and rage infused into the very blade.

Saber spirits, which only those born into the Nie sect or adopted early, raised in their ways, one of them, could form.

“A saber spirit?” Jin Guangyao said weakly, and his knees suddenly didn’t seem strong enough to hold him; he swayed and Nie Mingjue stepped forward quickly, catching him by the shoulders to steady him. “I cultivated a saber spirit?”

“The saber is back in the Unclean Realm,” Nie Mingjue said, not without kindness. “It was only ever waiting for you to pick it up once you developed the spirit, so that you could introduce the two.”

“It hasn’t been – I would have thought it would have been thrown away, or repurposed –”

“It’s a Nie saber, Meng Yao. It won’t obey anyone else ever again, not in this life; it is yours, yours alone. When one day you die, it will be buried with honor in our saber halls, just like all the others.”

The cat looked up at him and purred.

No one owns me, Jin Guangyao thought – the first thing the cat had said to him, and he’d always had a good understanding of what the cat wanted from the very first. No one had owned that wild spirit then, but it had stayed by his side, at first from curiosity and later from habit, and it was his now.

His, and no one else’s.

“Will you come pick it up?” Nie Mingjue asked, hope in his eyes. “Will you come home, if only for a little while?”

“Yes,” Jin Guangyao said. “Yes, I will.”

-

Later, Jin Guangshan told his son to kill Nie Mingjue, that fool who trusted too much and didn’t know when he was being deceived, finding him in his rigidity and righteousness too much of a burden on the power he planned to wield.

Jin Guangyao bowed as deep as he could, a smile on his lips, saying nothing, and the next day, when Jin Guangshan went to the brothel as he always did, drinking tea served by his son the way he always did, he never did figure out why his heart had stopped.

(The saber Jin Guangyao began to wear openly after the funeral – a gift from his sworn brother, he said with a smile, in remembrance of his time at the Nie sect – purred in pure satisfaction.)

[sevlgi]

bubblegum pop

requested: no

group: twice

pairing: sana x fem!reader

genre: fluff

contents: rich girl!sana, college!au, cashier!reader.

warnings: none

synopsis: An unfortunately hostile encounter with the school’s sweetest rich girl might just lead to more than you ever expected.

a/n: inspired by @pearicot​‘s mean girl rosie series! (by the way, i’m not trying to feed into the “dumb sana” stereotype with this; i just thought that her personality fitted the character i was trying to achieve! does anyone wanna request continuations or scenarios in this universe 👀

word count: 3.3k

Something about Mondays the week of finals always got you in a bad mood, especially when you had  to work double shifts at the same stupid ice cream shop you’d worked at for the past 2 years of college. 

So maybe, just maybe, there was reasoning behind you snapping at the love of your life during your first meeting.

Actually, there really, really wasn’t.

There were plenty of mean girls on campus who you wouldn’t regret yelling at whatsoever, but you just happened to blow up at one of the considerably nicer rich girls.

Minatozaki Sana didn’t mean anything bad when she innocently held out a hundred dollar bill to pay for a $5 ice cream. She didn’t mean to seem pretentious, nor did she mean to mock you and your minimum-wage job, but you just so happened to take it that way.

“Really? You have to rub it in my face like that?”

Sana stared at you, the money that she held out wavering in the ear. “Sorry?”

Pinching the space between your eyebrows, you huffed out an exasperated breath. Luckily, there was no one else in the shop about to witness the stupidest meltdown of your life. “You think I don’t know that I’m poor? It’s five dollars for God’s sake, no need to bring out the big guns. Oh, or are you doing this to avoid seeming more pretentious with your daddy’s black card?”

The brunette’s hand retreated quickly, the heels of her Louboutins clacking softly against the pastel-toned linoleum of the ice cream shop. Fuck, you hated that linoleum. “I... I didn’t mean any of that, I swear! Um, is there an ATM near here?”

Once again, the girl meant well, and you took it badly. You scoffed, glaring disbelievingly at her. Some part of you was screaming out that you were putting your entire job at stake, and your morals as well, but you disregarded any common sense remaining in your brain. “An ATM for 5 bucks? Dude, just don’t.��� Dipping your hand into the tip jar, you scrounged out a lousy crumpled bill and threw it down on the counter, shoving the bubblegum-flavored sweet to Sana. “Okay? Now get out, I don’t want to see your privileged ass anywhere near here.”

The dense gray clouding your mind somehow missed the hurt expression on the girl’s face as the staff door swung open. Wendy’s hands, though gentle on your shoulders, shoved you behind her with surprising force. “I am so sorry, Sana, it’s finals week. Surely you can understand? The ice cream’s on the house.”

“No, of course it’s okay!” Sana sounded genuine enough, that was for sure; you caught her glancing worriedly at you a couple times, nothing malicious whatsoever in her eyes. “I can pay though, are you sure?”

“I’m sure. See you in class,” Wendy called out, smiling all the while until the girl disappeared into the Lamborghini parked by the curb. As soon as that happened, she turned back to you, concern tugging at the corner of her lips. “Y/N...”

“Yeah, I know,” you mumbled as you crossed your arms. Already, you were regretting what you said, though you were far too stubborn to actually apologize on the spot. “No arguing with customers about capitalism. Sorry, Wendy.”

The girl bit her lip, scanning the store to make sure that there wasn’t about to be an influx of customers. Usually she enjoyed working with you; you just had absolutely terrible mood swings sometimes, and those days were nothing short of hellish for her to deal with. “Just head home. Focus on your finals, and come back next week. Okay?”

You hesitated to agree, knowing that you needed the money, but the grim expression on Wendy’s face told you that you had no other option. “Okay. Sorry.”

As you snatched up your stuff and shoved the door to the street open, you missed the sight of Sana watching you through the tinted windows of her 6-figure car.

“Really? Sana?”

“I know,” you groaned, biting down on the plastic spoon in your mouth. The flavor of the month (the only one you could eat completely free) lingered unpleasantly on your tongue, the taste of it oddly salty. “She was so nice about it, too.”

Jeongyeon and Mina exchanged glances, not touching their respective cups of “Ocean Caramel” either. It was extremely kind of them to come and accompany you on the slow days, both of them even offering to suffer through the gross ice cream with you.  “If it was Park Roseanne I might understand, but Sana,” Mina winced. Jeongyeon nodded in agreement; after all, everyone on campus knew about the reputations of Roseanne and Sana.

On one end of the “rich girl” spectrum, Roseanne was quite possibly the bitchiest one of all. She and her Bugatti Veyron, the college upgrade from her old McLaren, absolutely weren’t to be messed with. People who went to high school with you often told story of the G Wagon she smashed, the locker room she lit on fire, and so many other horror tales of a spoiled girl gone wild. You were sure that had you gone off on her, even Wendy wouldn’t have stopped you.

But on the other end, Sana was notoriously kind. Sure, her family raked in an income close to that of the other girl’s, and her wardrobe was just as expensive, but she made a point to donate to charities every time she went shopping. She tipped in the hundreds, and she didn’t ever ask for her designer clothes back when she lent them to strangers. She paid any dinner bill in full when she was there, and sometimes even when she wasn’t invited.

No one was entirely sure about the relationship between the two, but Roseanne seemed to hate Sana more than she did other people. The two fought publicly occasionally, but Sana’s kind heart made it so that even Roseanne couldn’t carry a fight very long. She didn’t respond to insults, it seemed, nor did she ever seem to actually take them personally. 

Stirring her half-melted soup, Mina continued, “Hopefully she doesn’t hold it against you. She doesn’t seem like the type, but...”

Jeongyeon shook her head, opening her mouth just as the doorbell rang. You froze when you looked up to find a designer-dressed bombshell, a sweet smile outlined in Chanel Rouge Allure. She looked completely out of place amidst tired college kids spending their last paycheck on ice cream, white gauzy sleeves and blue dress shimmering under LED lights. If you were being honest, you’d say that she was the most beautiful person you’d seen in your life, but you were always well versed in lying to yourself. “Y/N, you better go.”

“Why?” you whined, pouting at your much more responsible friends. They ignored your puppy face, though; Jihyo was usually the only one you could sway, Momo sometimes if she was feeling merciful. “I’m on break.”

“Only when there’s no customers,” Mina argued, shoving you to stand. Jeongyeon smiled at you, waving you away. “Go, and don’t screw it up this time.”

You forced a smile onto your face when you reached the counter, bowing and adjusting your name tag. “Hi, what can I help you with today?”

“Hi, Y/N!” Sana grinned, bowing back. The fact that she remembered your name only made your guilt worse; if she forgot who you were, you could at least pretend that she didn’t remember the incident at all. “Ah, could I have the same thing as last time? Bubblegum Pop ice cream, on a sugar cone today. 3 scoops?”

Nodding, you moved to open the case, avoiding the girl’s gaze as you did. “Of course.” She was quiet at that, staring at the ceiling so as not to rush you. Without prompting, you blurted, “I’m... I’m really sorry about last week, by the way. I don’t know what I was thinking, blowing up at you like that.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay!” she protested, waving a manicured hand in the air. “I promise I understand you. We all have our bad days.”

You wanted to apologize again, if just to assuage your guilt, but you held off on it, joking, “How do you deal with them? Yell at Gucci assistants?”

Sana looked honestly offended as she accepted the cone proffered to her, eyes widening in shock. “I’ve never done that, I swear! Besides, I don’t like Gucci much.”

A light smile quirking at the corners of your lips, you handed the receipt to her as well. She didn’t ask for it, probably not caring about the measly price or having the space for it in her tiny bag, but took it anyway. “I’m sure you don’t. Your total is $5.23, will that be cash or card?”

“Cash!” She held out a 10 dollar bill, pride shining behind that gorgeous face as you raised your eyebrows in surprise. When your hands brush together, you were reminded of how much better she was than you, how you probably weren’t worthy at all to be touching her with your shop-issued baseball cap and grimy apron. But Sana doesn’t seem to mind, still smiling that airy smile at you and not moving away. She broke your stare by offering, “I don’t want to sound rude, but keep the change.”

“Not rude at all,” you fully laughed that time, dishing out the remainder to stuff in your tip jar. You still felt terrible that she felt the need to apologize about such a normal comment, asking, “Are you sure it’s okay? You can have this one free too, if it makes up for me shouting at you...”

Sana shook her head, sugary light pink already mixing into her lipstick. She walked away, still waving with that gorgeous smile on her face. “It’s okay. I’ll see you soon, Y/N, you look really pretty today!”

Turning back to your friends, you whispered, “Damn. She’s really nice.”

You planned on spending your one day off from school and work cozied up with a good book and your favorite hot drink, but you supposed that getting into a fight with Park Roseanne wasn’t the worst way to go either.

As soon as you entered campus, book in hand and blasting music in your earbuds, you found a crowd of at least 3 dozen people right in front of the library building. It was unlike you to butt into others’ business, especially when it might lead to a ruined day, but Roseanne’s voice carried loud over the hushed whispers of everyone else. “--huh, Sana?”

It wasn’t any of your business, but for some reason, Roseanne’s tone when saying Sana’s name angered you immensely. Frowning, you shouldered your way through the crowd. The closer you got to the center, the more expensive the clothing that brushed against your own rough jean jacket was, cotton and leather becoming silk and velvet. You originally planned to just fit in with the other spectators, but with a shove at the small of your back, you were thrust into the center too.

To your shock, Sana’s eyes were red and shining with tears, the tip of her nose cherry-colored as well. Her head was almost bowed as she stared at her shoes, but she looked up to you when you almost bumped into her. You stuttered out, “H-hey. What’s going on?”

Instead of an explanation from the Japanese girl, though, your gaze was drawn to the blonde across the courtyard. “Didn’t you hear? Little Miss Perfect here got broken up with,” Roseanne scoffed, an infuriating smirk on her perfect face as she tilted her head at you. “By a future CEO, no less. I guess she isn’t a gold-digger, or maybe there’s some other reason that he didn’t want her anymore.”

Your hand shot out to protect Sana, a scowl making its way onto your own face. “Excuse me? From my standpoint, any future CEO is still way outta her league, so forgive me for doubting that he’s the one who didn’t want her. You’re the one dating someone who makes a tenth of what you do.”

Roseanne rolled her eyes, lips thinning. “Don’t talk about my girlfriend like that, Y/L/N, or you’ve got another thing coming. There aren’t many lesbians in this damn school.”

“You know me, don’t you?” Sana’s voice was wavering as she spoke, but it was strong enough to echo in the courtyard. To your surprise (and somewhat satisfaction), the blonde  girl’s eyes widened as Sana stood forward, her lips jutting forward. “That’s why I’m not dating him anymore. I like girls, too.”

Somehow, you’d never expected that Sana was attracted to girls, but it made perfect sense. An irrational part of you wanted to cheer, but instead, you forced yourself to speak.

“R-right.” You continued to glare at Roseanne, who finally seemed to be speechless. “Yeah, so how come you’re tearing Sana down? We should be supporting each other, but you’re being so rude to someone so kind, and that says all I need to know about you.”

Reaching out, you latched onto Sana’s upper arm and pulled her out of the circle, people parting to let the two of you through as Roseanne wasn’t able to conjure up something to respond with. You didn’t stop walking until there was only silence surrounding you under the shade of a swaying tree, finally stopping to let the girl sit. “Are you okay?” you asked, brow furrowed as you knelt to be mostly face-level with her.

Somehow, there was a smile on her face; a slightly snotty smile, but nonetheless the most beautiful one you’d ever seen in your life. You ignored the uncomfortable leap of your heart when you reached out to take her hands into your own, somehow forgetting about the hostility you’d felt towards her from the beginning. “You- you stood up for me.”

“Yeah. I did, I guess,” you shrugged, smiling slightly. “I’m sure that was rough, though, to come out. How’re you feeling?”

“Honestly, much better,” Sana sighed. She leaned back, fingers curling slightly around yours as the afternoon sun shone golden brown in the locks of hair spread out on her shoulders. “It was good to get it off my chest. I didn’t even know you were into girls, you know.”

Reaching up to scratch your head, you chuckled, “Well, I am, if it makes you feel any better. What happened between the two of you, by the way? She seems to hate you so much.”

The girl laughed, as bubbly and airy as her regular voice. “I may or may not have dated her girlfriend before. But it was a long time ago, and I’m still friends with her! Roseanne just can’t forgive me.”

You feigned shock, swatting at her arm. “How terrible of you! I’m so disappointed.”

You were stuck simply smiling at each other for a good minute or so before you looked away, picking at your shoelace for something to do. “So. Uh, Roseanne knew the whole time?”

“She did,” Sana confirmed, nodding. “She just never talked about it.”

“Well, it’s good to know that she isn’t the only other one in the school with me,” you sighed, sitting back on your heels.

Sana lurched back forward, hands clasping together at her chest. “Then we should celebrate! We can go shopping or something, and we can just be happy that we aren’t alone anymore.”

It suddenly struck you how quickly you could change the girl’s entire outlook, a smile coming onto her face with no effort from you whatsoever. But even more surprising, you smiled even larger than she did just looking at her. 

Laughing, you sat back on your heels and shook your head lightly. Seeming to take it as a rejection, Sana’s eyes widened. “Oh, only if you want to, of course! We can go wherever you want, we don’t even have to go shopping if you don’t want to!”

“No, we can go shopping,” you answered, reaching back over to squeeze her hand and pulling her up with you when you stood. “Come on, then. Let’s go celebrate.”

Sana wasn’t a great driver, but you didn’t expect much else. You were practically sick to your stomach by the time that you reached the mall, face green as you swayed out of the car.

“Ah, Y/N, I’m sorry!” Her hands rubbed lightly at your back as you squatted in the parking lot, fist held tight to your mouth. It wasn’t like you were actually going to throw up, but you didn’t want to risk ruining the girl’s expensive shoes. “I’ll let you drive next time.”

Next time? you wanted to ask. But you managed to stand, nodding quickly to ease Sana’s worry. “Yeah. It’s fine, I’m fine. Should we go?”

Immediately, she latched onto your hand, swinging between the two of you as she started to rush forward. “H-hey, lock your car first!”

Sana had unsurprisingly expensive tastes, but also surprisingly understated ones. She was fun to shop with, that was for sure- she loved to offer you clothes and also to offer to pay for them, but you didn’t necessarily hate a pretty girl telling you you’d look gorgeous in a certain sparkly dress.

She didn’t do any of the typical stuck-up things you expected her to- Sana carried her own bags, and she never forced you to follow her instead of doing what you wanted to. She did like to try on outfits and show them to you, but that could be ignored when it was just another opportunity for you to stare at her.

Eventually, you ended up having ice cream at one of the stores in the mall. You balked at the price, but Sana swiped her credit card without hesitation. “I have to admit, this bubblegum doesn’t taste as good as yours,” she pouted.

Chuckling, you savored the rich flavor on your own tongue. “You should’ve picked an expensive flavor then. Vanilla and chocolate are always good in these kinds of stores.”

“You know a lot about ‘these kinds of stores’ for someone who claims to be poor,” she teased, eyes widening as soon as the words slipped out of her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean-”

“Nah, it’s fine,” you smiled, leaning on your palm. “I’m good with it, since we’re friends now.”

Sana grinned at that, her eyes curving charmingly. “We’re friends? Most people don’t want to be friends with me, I’m really glad you’re willing to.”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

Looking down for once, the girl mumbled, “They say I’m dumb. You know that everyone says I’m nice, but they also think I’m dumb because I pay for everything. I just want to be kind, but no one takes me seriously.”

A wave of guilt rushed over you for previously feeding into the stereotype. The more time you spent with Sana, the more you realized that she was as brilliant as any other, and far more kind. “Well, that’s stupid. You are kind, Sana, and you’re amazing. I’m lucky to be your friend.”

She clasped your hand over the table, soft skin warm over yours, pink flushing in her pale cheeks. “Thank you, Y/N. You know, this is the best time I’ve had in a while. My boyfriend didn’t even listen to me this well,” she laughed.

Despite the fact that she treated it as a joke, you felt horrible. She was all too used to thinking the worst about herself and not believing that she was worth any better, and that was the worst possible thing you could imagine for a girl with a heart of gold. Jabbing your spoon into the remaining ice cream, you blurted, “Then go on a date with me. A proper one, not just a normal hangout like this.”

Sana instantly blushed, looking down as if it’d hide her face at all. But she missed the heat that rose to your cheeks too, the nervous biting of your lip as you waited for a response. “I would love nothing more,” she smiled, her eyes shining brilliantly. “And I can’t wait.”

[that-little-zebunny]

The Cursed Beauty: Chapter one

Pairing: Beast/Prince!James Bucky Barnes x Beauty!Reader (Beauty and the Beast AU)

Warning: this is an 18+ fic!, attempted rape, injury, assault.

Word count: 1,241

Summary: Beauty's curse. :’(( lets keep it that way. Pilot chap 💕

Note: this is something that came up on my rewatching the beauty and the beast 2017 movie on my sad brain day 😅 hope you'll enjoy this. Feedback and comments are so so appreciated 💜 thank you for reading!

Seb Stan & Characters’ Taglist: @nano--raptor @marvelgirl7 ​ @godofplumsandthunder ​ @jobean12-blog ​ @hawksmagnolia ​ @jewels2876 ​ @bugsbucky ​ @tyranneosaurus ​ @hailmary-yramliah ​ @buckosawrus ​ @cherryblossomskye ​ @curleyred2020 @sipsteacasually @harrysthiccthighss ​ @lookalivefrosty ​ 

Series Taglist open <3

You just bid your Father goodbye as he head off to an inventors fair out of town. You prayed for his safe journey and went on with your day. Cleaning the house, feeding the animals, tending your little vegetable garden and your favorite time of the day to finish reading the latest book you’ve burrowed. It was such a lovely story. A lady went on an adventure to find herself and find love. It was almost on the exiting part when you heard continues knocking on your door.

You sighed and got up to see who it is knocking annoyed for having the need to stop reading.

“Who is it?” You asked, removing the lock on your wooden door.

“Y/N, lovely evening. It’s just me Romlow.” Said the person outside. Knowing who it is made you more annoyed. Brock Romlow the town chief and also the most self-centered brute you ever met.

You opened the door wide enough to peak but not wide for him to get in.

“How can I help you?” You asked him trying to hide your annoyance. It wasn’t a secret that he fancies you but you really don’t find him attractive unlike the other girls. He would walk in front of them and they’ll melt. So silly.

“We’ll I saw your father left earlier. I just want to check if you’re doing well on your own tonight.” He said his eyes roam up and down your form. Luckily you haven’t change to your night dress. The way his eyes run up and down your body makes you want to puke your dinner.

“I am perfectly fine, Chief Romlow. Thank you for going out of your way to check.” You said smiling politely at him. He looked at you in a long nerve racking minute before nodding to himself and left.

Your heart was beating badly when you finally closed the door. You really don’t understand the way he acts around you. Unlike the other ladies you don’t bother with how you look. You crave adventure and to be out in the world. You don’t plan on staying here forever, you thought as you walked back to continue reading your book before heading to bed.

  Something crashing from downstairs woke you up. One of the chicken must have slip in while you're closing up but you remembered checking if they're in their coop. Surely you'll notice? Lighting up your candelabra you went down frowning as another crashing sound came up.

As you reached the final step you saw a tall figure near your back door. The kitchen window is now unhinged from its place. You hurriedly covered you mouth as a gasp came up.

Intruder! You thought. Silently you blew the light from your candles and walked slowly to get back to your room to lock yourself inside. Half way up the stairs someone grabbed your ankle making you loose your footing. You covered your head in hopes to not hit the steps but you still felt a sting on the side of your left eye.

You got dizzy for a quick second as your attacker made you turn on your back. You tried to push him off you but he's too big he didn't even move a little with all the force you put.

"Stop! Please!" You begged and you heard a familiar annoying laugh.

"Now you're begging." Chief Brock said. "Been dreaming of having you begging for me." He laughed again making your stomach turn. He ripped your night gown exposing your chest.

No, this cannot happen. You thought. He cannot have you so while he's busy kissing your now exposed breast. You want to throw up but the need to make him stop in your main focus.

Trying to push his face away with your left arm you tried to find your candelabra with your free hand smashing it in his head as soon as you got hold of it.

"Goddamn it woman!" He said angrily. His hold to you loosen and you slipped away from his hold. Getting back to your room will not be an option anymore now that you know who your attacker is. He can just make up some story and get away with it.

So you dashed towards the kitchen area and used the open window he went in with wincing as you foot landed on some rocks. Fighting over the pain you felt all over you run. Running towards the dark forest hoping he wont be stupid enough to follow you there.

You run and run not caring where your feet are taking you. You don't know how far you've run when you saw a hay cart in a small cabin. There are light inside so hiding there wont be an option so with your shaking legs you got up the hay cart.

You made sure you're covered enough in case you're being followed. You're supposed to just wait until before the sun rise so you can continue walking in the forest but somehow exhaustion won over and you fell asleep.

You woke up gasping for air as the event last night came back. You looked around and saw that you're in a dusty but beautiful room. Sitting up the blanket covering your body fell down exposing your nakedness. You heart went wild.

Did he got to you? Were he able to...to...oh god! Tears started flowing down your eyes like a dam with the idea that The Chief was able to take your innocence. The big doors opened and you hurriedly tried to cover you body with the blanket.

A lady came in carrying some elegant looking tea set in a tray.

"Oh my, darling don't cry." She said. Her voice is so sweet and soothing that your loud sobs died down. Putting down the tea on the side table next to you she sat down and held your hand. "Our master found your sleeping outside his cabin in the forest. You're so injured and very much full of dirt that's why I had to clean you up. You're safe." She said and your tears bust out again this time from relief.

"I-I...thank you so much." You said not knowing what else to say. She smiled sweetly and offered a cup of tea. You slowly calmed down as you too a sip oblivious to the man standing outside your slightly ajar door.

His sharp eyes watching your every move.

"She's very lucky you found her Master James." Said his right hand man Sam. "Maybe she's the one that will help us break the curse?" He continued.

James just grunted knowing it wont be that easy as he drunk your beauty in. One look in his face and you'll quickly lose your sanity and will throw yourself at him like any other women outside his household does. It's hopeless. No women will genuinely love him. The Enchantress made sure of that.

Soon his people will sleep and wont wake up again. It was what she said. In his thirtieth birthday if no woman loved him in return everyone he cares will turn into stone in their sleep. That's why he always stays in his cabin at night. He couldn't sleep knowing all the people that truly cared for him will soon be gone because of his selfishness. He’s trying to teach himself how to live on his own. 

Because everything is his fault. His beastly behavior became everyone’s downfall.

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Mario Kart Double Dash

(Story Post)

Theo and Henderson were both at the former's apartment watching TV when his phone went off. Unfortunately, he'd left it on the kitchen counter and it wasn't easy to move from the couch now that he was 16 weeks pregnant with alien quadruplets. “I got it,” Henderson said getting up to swipe the phone and handed it to Theo. “Merci,” Theo said as he took it and checked the caller ID. He was surprised to see it was Korsy. He answered it. “Hello?” “Theo, you home?” “Yeah.” “Okay, I'm coming up.” “Do you need me to open the balcony door?” “No, I'll take the elevator,” Korsy said. “Just buzz me in?” “Yeah, for sure.”

A few minutes later Korsy was knocking on the door. Henderson let him in. Korsy's usual smirking nature had dissolved into a more frantic and nervous demeanour. He waved to Theo on the couch. “Hey, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?” “No. Would it matter?” Theo sighed. “Are you alright, man?” Henderson asked putting a hand on Korsy's shoulder. “You look pale.” “No, I'm fine…” Korsy said, scratching the back of his head. No one was convinced. “Theo, how have you been?” Theo shrugged. “No more morning sickness. Not in a while, anyway…” “Well, that's good!” Korsy said. He patted Henderson's back. “And I imagine you're taking good care of him?” “Doing my best.” He closed the door behind Korsy. “Are you hungry?” “No, no,” Korsy said. “Have you eaten recently?” Henderson added. “Do you have allergies or dietary restrictions?” “I, uh, no, not really and no,” Korsy said. “But I'm not hungry, it's okay.” “Alright.” Henderson went into the kitchen anyway and started heating up a bowl of stew. “Come sit,” Theo said. “Talk to me.” Korsy went over and sat down, although he still didn't seem particularly relaxed. “You need to tell me what's up,” Theo said. “You are clearly upset about something.” “Yeah, well, I, uh…” Korsy took a deep breath. “Um, I have a friend I've been, you know, getting benefits from and we're not serious or anything, but uh…” Henderson came back and placed the bowl of stew in Korsy's hands before going and sitting down himself. “Eat.” “Oh, uh. Thanks.” “Don't mention it.” Korsy took a moment to try some of the broth. “This is very good.” “My mother sent it over,” Henderson said. “Tell her she's an incredible chef,” Korsy said. “I will. Now, please continue. What's this about a friend with benefits?” “Right…” Korsy scratched the back of his neck. “We didn't know it was possible, but I might've…gotten him pregnant.” Theo's eyes widened. “Oh my god, really?” “How would you believe it wasn't possible?” Henderson asked. “Is he trans?” “No, he's cis. That's why we didn't think it could happen,” Korsy said. “How did it happen, then?” Theo asked. “Or ‘maybe’ happen.” “It's kinda weird and complicated,” Korsy explained. “But he accidentally ate something he shouldn't have and it gave him a womb and now he doesn't want to talk to me and I don't know what to do.” “Um, what in the world did he eat?” Henderson asked. “Alien made stuff,” Korsy said. “You don't have to worry about it. APID has it now. Probably will study it then destroy it.” “Okay, as long as it's not like some weird new mango or something,” Theo said. “Although, do they have to destroy it?” Henderson said. “I bet some transwomen would love that. Even some cis gay couples trying to have kids.” “Well, they are studying it,” Korsy said. “Too untested and unregulated as it is right now.” “Yeah, that's fair,” Henderson said. “Well, you don't know yet for sure if he's pregnant, right?” Theo said. “It could just be a close call.” “That's what we're hoping,” Korsy said. “But, I just… I don't want this to ruin what we have going on. At first it was just sex, but I feel like we're becoming good friends, like you and me.” “I've met you like three times,” Theo said. “That's a lot for me, to be honest,” Korsy said. “I'm away so much, if I want to make friends, it has to be quick.” “Also fair,” Henderson said. “Well, if you're going to be my friend, you have to understand that you don't leave my house hungry.” “This isn't your house,” Theo argued. “Wherever I am is home,” Henderson stated. “You certainly act like it…” Theo said. “Oh hush, you love that I feed you,” Henderson said, patting Theo’s belly. “Your mom feeds me,” Theo argued as well. “That's only sometimes. I cook for you.” Henderson turned back to their guest. “Korsy, don't you wrap it up?” “I do when there's, you know, a vagina involved. Or if they're not tellurian,” Korsy said. “Otherwise, it's whatever they want. Elves don't get STIs.” Henderson looked to Theo again. “Can you confirm?” “Confirm what?” Theo huffed. “I don't know if elves get STIs!” “No, you two almost boned,” Henderson said. “Did he wrap it up for you?” Theo blushed. “Oh. Uh, yes he did. Can we not talk about that? That was so embarrassing…” “What? It's nothing to be embarrassed about,” Henderson said. “You seduced an elf.” “Hardly, he seduced me,” Theo said. “I am certainly attracted to you,” Korsy admitted. Theo pulled a blanket over his head. “Seriously, this is too much…” “Elves certainly seem to like you as much as you like them,” Korsy said. “Considering how many you keep in company.” Henderson frowned, eyeing Korsy. “You're not still on about me being an elf?” “You're still denying it?” Korsy inquired. “I'm not an elf!” Henderson exclaimed. “The thing is, you are though,” Korsy stated. Henderson threw up his hands. “Fine, prove it then.” “Okay.” Korsy put the bowl of stew on the table, a smug grin crossing his face. “Have you ever been sick?” Henderson shrugged. “No.” “Are your ears very sensitive to touch?” Korsy asked. “Aren’t they all?” “Do you have a hard time growing body hair?” Henderson smirked. “No.” Korsy waved a hand. “That's neither here nor there… You're part human anyway.” “I'm all human,” Henderson stated. “Do you resonate with any one or more elements of nature?” Korsy continued. “For example, animals, water, ores, gemstones, fire, wind, the moon, the sun, the stars, etc.” “Define resonate,” Theo piped in. “Is it like a glow or something?” “No, it's like… Well, for me, I have a good bond with magical animals,” Korsy said. “Anyway, it's hard to explain. It's a really strong pull towards those kinds of things. And them to you.” “I can't think of anything like that,” Henderson said. “What about people?” Theo asked. “Henderson's really good at attracting a crowd. People always want to hear his stories and hang out with him at work and stuff.” “That's called being an extrovert,” Henderson stated rolling his eyes. “I mean some magical creatures have a way with people, but mostly demons and sirens,” Korsy said. “Demons are real?!” Theo gasped. “Oh, yeah. But don't worry about them. You're not surprised about the sirens, though?” “He met a mermaid already,” Henderson said. “At that pregnancy group.” “No, he's my case worker,” Theo said. “Oh, right! Fay!” Korsy recalled. “Yeah, Fay's cool.” “We are way off topic,” Theo re-centred. “Right.” Korsy stood up and held his hands out, palms up. “All these questions don't really matter as much as the physical. Stand up, Mr Neil. Lift your arms.” “This is stupid,” Henderson said but Theo nudged him and he got up reluctantly. “Hurry up.” “I said lift your arms,” Korsy said. “Also, it's easier with your shirt off.” “You're lucky you're cute...” Henderson stripped down to his waist and put his arms up. “What, might I ask, are you looking for?” “Elf mark,” Korsy said. “Don't worry, There's only three possible ones below the belt and they're very unlikely considering already what we know about you, so I'll only look for those ones if I don't find any other one.” “Well, you won’t so I might as well undo my drawstrings…” Henderson stated. “Also, I have a lot of ‘marks'. Even if you think you found something, it's probably my condition.” “Elf marks are very specific. It’s not gonna look like a skin condition.” Korsy took out his phone to cross reference a photo he had from a book he wasn't allowed to read, let alone photograph. He checked under Henderson's armpits first. “Not an aquatic elf...” He turned out both of Henderson’s palms. “Not wood or wild.” “How many are there?” Theo asked. “Uh, several,” Korsy said. “About nine, I think?” He went behind Henderson and sighed. “Darn, not Avariel. That would've been unlikely, but so cool...” “What are Avariel?” Henderson asked. “Winged elves,” Theo said excitedly, pulling himself up off the couch so he could look too. “You do know your stuff,” Korsy said. “Anyway, they're long gone.” Korsy pushed forward Henderson's ears to check behind them. “Not Star or Lythari.” “What's left?” Theo asked. “Just Drow, Sun and Moon,” Korsy said. “I don't think he'd be drow, but we'll check anyway. Pants off.” “Are you serious?” Henderson huffed. “You can keep your panties on,” Korsy shrugged. “Just need a look at the inner thigh and then your butt.” “Let me guess, Moon is on the butt?” Henderson sighed. “…Listen, I don't make this stuff up. It's ancient,” Korsy said. “I can assure you, there's nothing there,” Henderson stated. “How often do you look at your butt?” Korsy asked. “Probably a lot,” Theo said. “He has a nice butt.” “I have a nice butt,” Henderson concurred. “Well, we can check the Sun first if you want,” Korsy said. “Not much hope for that one though, but we'll see.” “Where's that one?” Theo asked. “Sole of the foot,” Korsy said. “My feet are completely vitiligo at this point,” Henderson said. “Even if there was something there, it'd be gone.” “Humour me,” Korsy said. Henderson grimaced, but he sat down and put his foot up on the coffee table. “You better not have a foot fetish or something.” “I'm just taking a look, I'm not taking pictures,” Korsy said. “You didn't say ‘no'.” “I don't have a foot fetish,” Korsy stated. “Frankly, it's the last place I want to look. I'm a butt guy.” He went around the coffee table and picked up Henderson's foot before putting it down. “Hm. Other one.” Henderson switched feet, and then Korsy's eyes lit up. He picked up the other man's foot and wiped at it with his thumb, checking in case what he was seeing was dirt. “What?” Henderson groaned in annoyance. “Ha, you're walking on sunshine, baby!” Korsy said in delight. “You have to be kidding...” Henderson pulled his foot back so he could get up and try to look at his sole. Right on his heel, he saw the little circle of spots with little dots around the outside, mimicking solar flares. “What the hell...” Theo spread his arms. “Oh my god, you're a Sun Elf!” Henderson exhaled in frustration and put his foot down. “I...ugh, this is dumb...” “Sun elves are pretty incredible, I'm not gonna lie,” Korsy said. “I didn't suspect them, but it wasn't impossible. The whole extrovert thing makes sense though. They're very civil and good with magic.” “Are you happy now?” Henderson snapped. “You figured it out. Now what? Do you like me more knowing I'm an elf?” “Whoa, man. Chill,” Korsy said. “It's not like that at all. Just wanted to help you discover something new about yourself. Don't you want to know your background?” “No! I knew my background!” Henderson exclaimed. “I was proud to be what I was! What I knew! People have always tried to tell me that being who and what I am was bad, secondary, unimportant. They wanted me to be something else! But I made myself love me and my skin! I love my black heritage! I don't need to be anything else! Do you understand that?” “I'm not trying to take any of that away from you,” Korsy said. “But, I'm sorry, man, I... I don't know, I thought you'd want to know.” “I've said I didn't want to know,” Henderson reminded. “I don't need you to think for me.” “I'm sorry. I thought...” Korsy didn't know what else to say. “Did you, though? Did you really think?” Henderson asked. “I only let you do this because you're going through some shit right now and you needed a distraction. But this is too far.” Korsy crossed his arms. “Look, man. I said I'm sorry. I don't know what else to tell you. I don't appreciate you insulting me." “Oh, fuck off, honestly,” Henderson said. “I'm done with this.” “You agreed to do this.” “I didn't think you'd actually find anything!” Henderson spat. He went to the door and started pulling on his shoes. “What, you're just leaving?” Theo asked, waddling over. “I'm sorry, Theo. I just gotta go,” Henderson said. “No, this is my fault.” Theo apologised. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have encouraged him...” “It's fine, okay?” Henderson said opening the door. “I still... I need to breathe.” “Okay...” “I will call you.” “Okay.” Korsy went to follow Henderson. “Listen, let's just talk about this.” “No. Stay here,” Henderson said, stopping him with his hand. “You and Theo can geek out about elf shit and whatever. I gotta go.” “Alright, dude...” Korsy sighed. “I am sorry. Really.” Henderson backed out and just shut the door. “Shit...” Korsy groaned and went back to the couch. He covered his face. “Fucking hell... Am I just pushing away everyone today?” “It's okay... Henderson will calm down,” Theo said, coming back and sitting down. “I think it's just a lot for him to take in... And you didn't push your friend away. Everyone needs time.” Korsy took his hands away and his eyes were tearing up. “I just... I don't want people to be miserable. Not because of me.” “No one wants that, but honestly, they won't be,” Theo said. “I mean, I've been pretty fucking miserable lately, but I do think I’ll get through this... You'll get through this and so will they. And let me handle Henderson.” “Yeah... I'm really sorry I dropped in out of nowhere and dropped all this drama on you,” Korsy said. “I know you've got a lot going on.” “I've pretty much just accepted this stuff, so there's not actually much for me to do, except just keep sitting on my ass...” Theo said. “In a few weeks, I'm supposed to start growing again though. Not looking forward to that.” “Well, you've got good care and I think you're gonna get through it,” Korsy said. “I appreciate that.” Theo patted Korsy's knee. “And don't apologise for looking for help. What's worrying you most about this situation, though?” Korsy took a deep breath. “My friend... He says he doesn't want to be pregnant, and he bought a pill for it... But, I don’t know, I'm worried he'll change his mind? And I can't...I can't be a dad...” “Boy, do I feel that...” Theo said, rubbing his stomach. “But, I mean, I don't know your friend, but if you feel like he feels the same way, then I don't think you should worry about it.” “Yeah, I trust him,” Korsy said. “It's all I can do... And we're not a couple, and he has a pretty small apartment and he seems more work driven than anything, so I think we're okay, but it's just that little chance that's scaring me.” “Well, you said he might not be pregnant at all,” Theo said. “So, it's like there's three ways it could go, and the majority is in favour of no baby.” “Yeah, you're right...” Korsy closed his eyes for a moment. “You're right. Thanks.” “Listen, feel free to stay over if you want,” Theo said. “There's more food, and we could watch more Mando. To keep your head off of things.” “Yeah, if it's alright... If Henderson comes back though, he probably won't want to see me.” “Don't worry about Henderson. You know, we could play Mario Kart first.” “Yeah, so you can challenge my win streak?” “Last time was a fluke.” “Sure. You're on.”

[willownoir1112]

Hello beautiful people of Tumblr! Wyn here with day one of White Rose Week 2021 to break my silence! I hope everyone enjoys, and I'll see you tomorrow with day 2!

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Love Bites

Summer Rose vanished, and Ruby suffered.

All her life, all Ruby has ever wanted was to belong. She tries so hard to fit in, first with her older sister's friends. But, they all told her to go away. That she's a baby compared to them. "Why would I want to bring you too?" Yang would always declare. "You're still just a baby!" Her friends would laugh with her, call her names as well, and leave her behind just like Yang did.

Her sister's words hurt her, and destroyed any chance of them having a sisterly relationship.

She tried so hard to be a good daughter. But, her father spent more of his time worrying about his troops, his responsibilities, his duties to Goddess and Country. "One day you will understand, Ruby." He would always tell her. "One day, you'll have to make the same sacrifices for a family of your own." His words never changed, nor his actions. He would be gone constantly, leaving her and Yang alone for weeks or even months at a time, meaning she had to grow up far too quickly.

Her father's priorities hurt her and robbed her of her childhood.

She tried so hard to be a good student. But, subjects like english, history, anything really to do with reading simply didn't make sense to her. She could stare at the page of a book for hours and all she could see is a jumble of letters. Everyone called her simple, stupid, a waste of time. "Oh look, it's little Stupid Ruby!" Cardin Winchester would declare every day at school. He and his cronies would torment and belittle her, and once even cut her long hair off. She suffered in silence, her arms the only evidence of her inner pain. Arms she always kept covered even in the worst heat of summer.

Her peers hurt her with their words, with their actions, and made her withdraw further into herself.

She finally stopped being a good sibling. She shut her sister out of her life first, Yang never noticing that Ruby stayed closeted in her room constantly. She was the bright shiny sun of everyone else's lives, with her outgoing and boisterous personality. Everyone's but Ruby's. If Yang is the bright sun, then Ruby has become the darkest moon of the family, and she likes it that way now.

She finally stopped being a good daughter. She did her chores without complaint and without needing to be told, save late at night when her father would already be in bed or Yang too preoccupied with her latest significant other. He never noticed that his younger daughter dresses in nothing but blacks and reds, or that she never let her hair grow back longer than above her shoulders. The career he chose to continue to support his family had a long ago casualty, and Ruby keeps it that way.

She finally stopped being a good student. She kept going to school, despite all but failing in everything. She went through the motions, ignored everyone when they called her things like Queen of Darkness or Salem's heir, or even worse. She ignored the shoves, the bullying, everything done to her until they all finally grew bored of it and her. She was finally left alone to sit in the deepest corner of all her classes, doodling to pass the time until she could return to her room and her solitude.

But then Ms. Peach, the choir director, invited the secretly shy and lonely girl to her class one day and encouraged her to sing. From the moment she heard the piano play, her soul became exultant, and her voice rose in response. Even Principle Ozpin, who was walking by at that moment stopped and listened as the shy, moody, rather dark girl who kept to herself was in possession of a voice that could bring even him to tears. Peach was enthusiastic in teaching her how to read music, how to project her voice, how to truly appreciate her hidden talent for music.

But, Taiyang finally noticed when he was forced to retire. He noticed the true state of his family, and decided to take firm control. He destroyed her growing dreams when he declared she and Yang both were to join Beacon Military Academy to finish school. That they needed discipline and not freedom to thrive like he once did. That neither of his children will follow in his long disappeared wife's footsteps, and lack the discipline needed to succeed where she obviously failed.

He was furious when Glynda Goodwitch admitted her as Ruby, allowing her to keep that one small bit of freedom.

She suffered like never before at Beacon. She was admitted two years early as a favor to her father, and she hated it. Her hate translated itself into her becoming a powerful fighter with her chosen weapon, a red and black fifty caliber sniper scythe she named Crescent Rose, and soon where she was once either dereided or ignored, she was now feared. Even her own sister fears her now, and that makes her happy.

She is the Darkest Reaper of Vale, and she hates them all.

But one person did not fear her. One person saw past her pain, her grief for her denied life. Weiss was from Atlas, a mysterious, inclusive land far to the north, where they say even the Grimm do not tread. A land of dark magic, of creatures even fouler than the enemy of the world. A land even the demiurge Salem has forsaken. Weiss did not fear the Darkest Reaper, and took an odd delight in hearing the whispers about her, about them both.

She has her own secrets, secrets Ruby will know all too soon.

She cannot help but to feel an attraction to the white haired girl from the north. Her porcelain skin is always smooth and cool to the touch. Her brilliant blue eyes are like the clear blue skies she would once sit under with her long departed mother while they laugh and imagine whimsical beasts and imaginary places. Her long white hair moves like the finest of silk curtains as she walks from class to class, her nose turned up to their peers as if they are all beneath her. All except for her. She treats the Reaper with respect, with courtesy, and after a time, holds out a hand of friendship to her, one she takes willingly.

She finally has a friend, a real friend. Someone who cares for her, Ruby Rose.

But certain things stand out to her as well. The way she barely eats anything but meat, and even then almost bloody and nearly raw. The way she approaches every mock battle with the cunning of a predator on the hunt. The skill with which she wields her rapier, a dust revolver styled weapon she has named Myrtenaster, with near lethal intent even during the simplest of spars against anyone willing to challenge her. She is the only one who can stand against her, her own formidable rage and loathing a match for the heiress's feral cunning and ferocity.

But one late night, during a restless night they both secretly shared, a truth is told, and their lives are changed forever.

She herself couldn't sleep. It was the one thing she could always count on being able to do. It was her refuge from the reality of her world, and she retreated to it every chance she could. But tonight, she tosses and turns, she begs and pleads with the treacherous brain that won't stop thinking, and finally surrenders and gets dressed. Taking up her scythe, she easily steals away into the Emerald Forest, the guards ignoring her out of fear. She runs deeply into the darkened woods, no fear for the Grimm that hide in the shadows as well as whatever other creatures may dwell within.

She never realizes that a pair of blue eyes follow her, belonging to the single person who doesn't fear her. The only person who is beginning to secretly adore her.

She finally stops near the old temple to the Brother of Light, which has been long abandoned when he left Remnant to it's fate. Sitting down, she begins to cry deep tears of pain and sorrow. She hates her life now, she hates being taught to kill, to end the lives of others. She despises the fact that she is good at it. She never wanted this. All she ever wanted was to be a good sibling, a good daughter, a good student. All she ever wanted was to belong, to love a certain white haired girl and be loved in return.

She almost screams in terror when the great white furred head lays in her lap, with sad blue eyes that reflect her pain.

She stares at the great beast, marveling at the fact that a wolf has appeared here. One of the few things she has managed to remember from her poor studies is that the Grimm killed all the wolves when they first came to Vale. None were spared, and somehow she knows this one knows that. To her surprise, she begins to pet the wild creature, smiling softly at the way it's tail begins to wag as it whines. And then she begins to talk to it. She talks about her mother, her father, her sister, her life. She is soon sobbing in grief at the sadness of her life thus far, and is surprised to see tears in the white wolf's eyes as well.

But she forgot that sorrow is a feast for the Grimm, and they soon gather around her and the white wolf both.

She makes her decision. She throws her scythe to the ground and gives in completely to her sorrow. She is so tired. She is so tired of being turned into someone she wants nothing to do with. She's so tired of hoping people will finally love her instead of hate her or fear her. She is so tired of dreaming of a pair of blue eyes that will never look lovingly at her. She is ready, and the Grimm will feed well on her. But she doesn't expect the snarling, the sudden sounds of battle. Opening her silver eyes, they widen as she sees the once four legged wolf has vanished, a naked Weiss snarling in her rage as she wields Myrtenaster against the foul creatures.

"YOU KILLED THEM ALL!"

She stares at the rage filled young woman. She's never seen her fight with this much savagery, this much hate. Even in battles in which she is outclassed or outnumbered, she is still controlled. She uses superior tactics, the icy calm she is infamous for, and her obviously hidden rage to still rip victory from the jaws of defeat.

"ALL THE PACKS OF VALE ARE DEAD!"

She picks Crescent Rose back up. The white haired girl is beginning to frighten her, and she does not frighten easily. She watches in growing terror as an Alpha Beowolf appears, howling in challenge, Weiss's answering howl frightening her to her very soul. She watches as the white haired woman tosses her sword to the side and begins to growl as she grows. She listens to the popping of bone and sinew as fur begins to spring from her bare skin. She stares on in horror as the one friend she has ever made turns into…

A werewolf. A creature from Remnant's darkest stories has come to life before her, and is defending her while taking vengeance for the long dead wolves of Vale.

"You will not hurt my Ruby…"

She screams as Weiss leaps towards the Alpha, her fangs bared and her still hand shaped front paws slashing at the creature of darkness. The Alpha charges her as well, it's own jaws wide open to bite and tear at the white werewolf, it's own claws slashing at her unarmored and exposed flanks. She hears her friend's scream of pain as the Alpha strikes harder than she can, and causes more damage than she can possibly manage in return, and she finally leaps into action. Weiss is the first person to be her friend. She is the first person to treat her like a person. She is the first person she's allowed herself to start having feelings for in her short life.

She may be ready to die, but she will not let Weiss die for her own selfish desires.

Crescent Rose strikes the Beowolf quickly, breaking the Alpha and the werewolf apart as the Grimm leaps back to avoid the deathblow Ruby aims at it. But Ruby is enraged now. She sees the bright red blood upon the moonlit ground, and it adds to her fury. She hears the whimpers of the injured wolf, and it increases her rage. She roars in her righteous anger as her scythe becomes a blur, the Alpha soon howling in pain before Ruby's final blow comes in her scythe hooking around its neck before she pulls the trigger, decapitating the beast with one final roar of triumph. It takes her a moment to calm herself, a long moment in which she has forgotten her anger, her sorrow, her self loathing. And then she finally remembers Weiss. In a panic, she begins to look for her friend, desperate to ensure that she is safe.

It doesn't take her long to find her, and her scream of anguish can be heard back at Beacon.

Weiss has managed to get back to a small cave, her clothes as well as some supplies stacked neatly in the back. She herself is panting heavily as blood flows steadily from her injuries. But her tail thumps on the ground weakly as Ruby slides to the ground in front of her. She doesn't hesitate, but begins to treat the slashing wounds, bandaging them carefully while doing her best to ignore the pain filled shrieks from the badly injured werewolf.

"Oh Goddesses, I'm so sorry, Weiss. I'm so so sorry!" Is her litany as she keeps at her work, until the blood finally stops. Until the white wolf goes silent save for her panting.

The sun rises, then sets once more, but Ruby has yet to leave the white werewolf's side. Weiss has slept the entire time, but she has stayed awake. She is too scared to close her eyes, terrified that if she relaxes her vigil for even a moment, she will lose the most important person in her life. But her body's needs will not be denied, and she finally falls asleep, the large canine head still in her lap and her grip firm on Crescent Rose's handle.

She dreams of white fur and sky blue eyes. Of days spent watching the skies and laughing. Of feeling loved once more, and being confident in being able to return that love.

She moans as she feels the urgency of the lips on her own. Of the feeling of cold skin upon her own now bare skin. Of cold hands exploring her body and her own hands wandering across smooth, uninjured skin in return. She moans in longing as lips caress her skin with feather light kisses. As her own fingers discover places on the other willing body that bring moans of pleasure from a voice she has come to adore since beginning at Beacon.

But she moans loudly as teeth sink into her collarbone, a tender, almost loving bite from the woman she knows she loves deeply.

"Ruby…" Her voice is husky as she releases the love bite, full of longing and need. She can feel a certain heat against her leg that is foreign to the cold that the rest of her skin belies. She herself feels so hot, so needed. She has never felt like this before, and she wants more. She needs more. But her eyes widen as she catches her lover's hands as they grab at the hem of her panties, her face full of fear once more.

"Weiss… I…"

"I know, Ruby." Weiss smiles softly at the Reaper. "I know what you are. But I have wanted you for months now. Since I saw your strength for myself. Since I got to know the real you, and not your mask of anger and self loathing that you hide behind."

"Weiss…"

"Ruby, I am the last of my pack." The werewolf informs her sadly. "I came to Vale seeking the packs that once roamed here, hoping to join them and be safe." She sighs sadly, her blue eyes dimming. "I am beginning to fear I am the last of my kind."

She sits up and pulls the werewolf into her arms. She knows all the signs of sorrow, being well acquainted with them herself. "I… Weiss I'm damaged. Why would you want someone like me?"

Their eyes meet, quicksilver staring into sky blue. "Because I have been alone since I was a child. But you make me feel like I am home now." She cuddles deeper into the Reaper's arms. "I feel safe with you, and I know I can trust you with my secret."

Ruby takes a moment to think, to gather her thoughts while considering everything she has been told. But her thoughts always return to a pair of sky blue eyes she loves to look into. Coming to a decision, she lifts the werewolf's face by her chin with a single finger and kisses her deeply, while her free hand pulls her even closer.

This may be a mistake, but it is going to be the best one she ever makes.

The cavern is soon filled with their moans, their cries of pleasure, their whispered words of love, their need for one another. Their lovemaking is tender at times, frenzied at others, and intense throughout. Morning found them once again asleep, this time in each other's arms and in a tangle of limbs, a part of Ruby still inside the white werewolf, who smiles as she sleeps deeply. They wake upon that glorious morning and decide that Beacon has nothing left for them, and decide to seek their fortunes elsewhere. Someplace where no one knows either of them.

Someplace where their future children can grow up safely…

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Weiss declares her love for her, and for the werewolf, she will throw everything away for a future with her...

Ruby opens one silver eye, smiling at the blue eyed pup staring back at her eagerly as she whines. Sitting up, she yawns as she stretches, her mouth opening wide as her fangs gleam in the light of the morning sunlight. Bowing her head down low, she nuzzles the white haired silver eyed pup tenderly before the two of them leave the comforts of the small, modest home she and Weiss have built together. It has been a decade since she and the white werewolf left Vale far behind and traveled to Mistral. To their surprise, as they explored the deepest parts of the wilds of Anima, they encountered a village full of others like Weiss, led by a lioness named Pyrrha Nikos and her own mate, a human woman named Nora.

She had heard of Pyrrha, who had been reported killed in a massive battle at Haven Academy. A report fabricated by the woman herself so she too could escape with her own mate and their hard won freedom...

They had met so many others, who had fled the destruction of their own packs and prides, their own groups and hutches. They met Velvet, who was a kind and gentle soul of a wererabbit and her mate Coco, who was the heiress of Mistral's largest corporation and their secret benefactor. They met Blake, a panther who loves to read, and her chameleon mate Ilia. There had even been a tearful reunion between Weiss and her older sister Winter, who had also barely survived the destruction of their pack and had also fled. They even met a pair of birds who squabbled constantly, an overly violent Raven and her dusty, drunken Qrow of a brother.

But the biggest shock comes when they reach one small cabin in particular, where a lonely woman lives. A lonely woman long thought vanished by the young woman, but who in truth had been forced to leave by the man she thought loved her.

Ruby sobs as she rushes into her mother's arms, Summer Rose holding her tightly as she too weeps in joy. A mother and her daughter are reunited to their eternal joy, and Weiss cheers in her happiness for them both.

They talked late into the night, the white werewolf asleep in her mate's lap as mother and daughter catch themselves up on years of their lives. Summer is livid at how Ruby has been treated, how she has suffered for so long because of her absence. Ruby had been furious to discover that her mother had been driven off due to a twist of fate, as she had been bitten by another werewolf during a mission. She had been bitten to save her life, and had been punished for it.

Ruby made her own decision that same night, and smiled as her beloved sank her fangs into her skin in a love bite that would change her forever. She turned willingly, determined that Weiss, her sister, and her own mother will not be the last of their kind.

She quietly cheered her mother onward as she found the courage to move on with Raven, who adored her and treated her with kindness, respect, and love. She had happily held her baby sister when she was born two years later, Weiss still at her side and a smile on her own face to match the look of peace in her eyes. She and Weiss had themselves celebrated the birth of their twin pups a year later, naming them after both their mothers.

But the biggest surprise is still to come.

She still checks her scroll from time to time, she and Pyrrha both agreeing that they cannot remain ignorant of the outside world. There is still danger out there, both from the humans and faunus as well as the Grimm, and all while quietly offering safe haven to others like them, as well as their families. They as well as Raven and Nora are the defenders and leaders of their small community, and they take their responsibilities seriously. But Ruby had been surprised to find an email waiting for her one day, when she had travelled far to the south before turning it on, a feat she can accomplish with ease thanks to her semblance and now enhanced senses and superior stamina.

She never expected to hear from her sister ever again.

Downloading it, she returns to the village and her mate, asking her to read it for her. Weiss of course does so, having been the one who finally helped the Reaper figure out that she was not stupid like everyone in her life claimed, but struggled with severe dyslexia. She and Summer have been helping her learn to finally read and write, but it is a slow process, one she still finds herself getting frustrated with as well as embarrassed. Opening it, she soon stops to summon Summer, the two of them sobbing at the state of the brawler's life since they fled. Tai has placed his blame on his eldest for her disappearance, and she has suffered greatly for it. Her life is a disaster now, and she has already been in a failed marriage. She begs Ruby to at least reassure her that she is alive, that she is at least doing well, that her suffering is worth it if it means that the sister she long ignored is finally happy.

That they have traded places, and that her sister is finally whole in spirit and at peace.

Pyrrha does not hesitate to give her permission to bring Yang back. To allow them to reunite, so that she can see for herself that her wishes are indeed true, and that Ruby is happy and thriving. She goes and meets Yang at Mistral's airship port, where the two of them meet in a long overdue hug between sisters, and not the strangers they have been all their lives. They return together, where Yang is also overjoyed to be reunited with her own mother, Raven. Ruby herself nods in satisfaction that her sister is on her way to a peace of mind she now enjoys, and is grateful that she too settles into life in their village, calling it home as well.

Only she and Weiss bear witness to Winter sinking her fangs into Yang's flesh, the two of them falling in love in this place they too call home.

Summer and Luna play happily with the other children, who include their cousins and their aunt. They are gentle with their younger brother, and fiercely protective of their newborn sister. Ruby and Weiss have slowly become the leaders of their still growing safe haven, and lead both by excellent example as well as with hard learned wisdom and knowledge. They share a deep, beautiful commitment to one another that many envy, one forged in mutual understanding and undying love.

Weiss Schnee came into Ruby's life, and she has prospered...

[isuckatreadinglol]

Crooked Kingdom Review 🕰️

Holy shit.

(spoiler warning, duh)

Book: Crooked Kingdom (Book 2 of the Six of Crows Duology)

Author: Leigh Bardugo

Rating: 5.5/5

The Plot

This book took me a bit longer to finish because I wanted to absorb as much of the plot as possible because of how much action there was. Every chapter had something going wrong (cough cough part 4) which made it impossible to put the book down. Some parts literally had my heart racing.

There were a lot of interesting moments and I would hardly say they were predictable. At some parts of the book I literally had to just...sit there and just think about how incredible the twists were. I never expected anything to happen, and the way things played out in the end were mind-blowing. I loved the way the plot expanded and it was very satisfying when the book ended.

The Characters

"Where do you think the money went?" he repeated.

"Guns?" asked Jesper

"Ships?" queried Inej.

"Bombs?" suggested Wylan.

"Political bribes?" offered Nina. They all looked at Matthias. "This is where you tell us how awful we are," she whispered.

I fell in love with every single character and watching them grow made me so happy. I think personally I loved Kaz Brekker the most in this book because you really got to see how his trauma left him scarred, as well as how skillful he really is when it came to the missions. The smallest details of Kaz's character just built him into such an awesome character. His backstory expanded, explaining so many things that I didn't even think I needed to know until I read them. Plus the fact that he basically wrote the book. Leigh made up the idea for the plot and Kaz said "I'll take it from here".

"I don't hold a grudge. I cradle it. I coddle it. I feed it fine cuts of meat and send it to the best schools. I nurture my grudges, Rollins"

And that was what destroyed you in the end: the longing for something you could never have.

Inej stole my heart again and again and for what. She really is such a well-built character with amazing determination. The beginning literally had me shaking (It was also the part of the book that had my heart-racing) because I really felt for Inej. Leigh also wrote Inej's kidnapped chapters perfectly, it felt so real. Her showdown with White Blade was so beautifully written and honestly Dunyasha was such a cool character I almost wish she was developed into something more rather than killed.

Anyway, Inej holds a place in my heart and it was refreshing to have such an in depth character, from her history at the Menagerie, to her references of her culture (which were so beautiful). It really made her stand out from the rest of the crew and she was just an incredible character.

"That was how you survived when you weren't chosen, when there was no royal blood in your veins. When the world owed you nothing, you demanded something of it anyway."

"The Suli believe that when we do wrong, we give life to our shadows. Every sin makes the shadow stronger, until eventually the shadow is stronger than you."

Her heart was a river that carried her to the sea.

Jesper was the character I resonated the most with. His backstory was so interesting and structured, but simple. I did enjoy the appearance of his father because it added an element of Jesper's character we didn't see much of before. We got to learn his backstory and learn about his relationship with his father. His unhealthy habits was also something I resonated with so it comforted me to be able to understand this character and connect with him. Also, I love the fact that his ADHD was given more attention to show how and why he dealt with situations the way he did. Also, when he bent the direction of the bullet at the last part...chills. He's my ultimate comfort character and I loved getting to know him.

Guilt and love and resentment were all tangled up inside him, and every time he tried to unravel the knot in his gut, it just got worse.

There's a wound in you, and the tables, the dice, the cards--they feel like medicine. They soothe you, put you right for a time. But they're poison, Jesper. Every time you play, you take another sip.

Nina was definitely one of my favorite characters to see grow. The creativity that was put into her powers was amazing and she was just such a badass. She could literally raise fuckers from the DEAD????? That shit made me lose my mind like how powerful can she GET. She was definitely an awesome character and I really wished we got some more on her powers and her story after they got their money.

She was the Queen of Mourning, and in its depths, she would never drown.

Wylan...sweet Wylan. I love him so much it hurts. He was such an entertaining character and his courage was awesome, he really stood out from the rest of the characters because of how different he was from all of them. He also admired all of the crows and was treated like a little brother by all of them which was so cute. The character development went from "Why am I here?" to "How can I help?" and I loved seeing him become a part of the crows. Also in that last scene where he's just leaning against the wall, beat the fuck up, was so good SAINTS.

Wylan summoned every bit of bravado he'd learned from Nina, the will he'd learned from Matthias, the focus he'd studied in Kaz the courage he'd learned from Inej, and the wild, reckless hope, he'd learned from Jesper, the belief that no matter the odds, somehow they would win.

But they were his first friends, his only friends, and Wylan knew that even if he’d had his pick of a thousand companions, these would have been the people he chose.

Matthias back with his long ass chapters (until chapter 40 LOL) (i'm so sorry that was outta pocket). Anyway, I still had meh feelings for him but I loved him and Nina's relationship. Yes, I shed a few tears when he died that shit hurt come on now. I did like to see his protective side and him overcoming his fears and past beliefs. The character development in him was immaculate.

He was on the ice once more, and somewhere he could hear the wolves howling. But this time, he knew they were welcoming him home.

The Ships

Kanej: cries. literally in tears. bawling my eyes out. throughout the entire book. THEY HELD HANDSSSSSS, HE OPENED UP TO HERRRRR, THE SHIPPPP AND THE PARENTSSSSSSSS AHHHHHHHHHHHHH MY HEARTTTTTT

I would come for you. And if I couldn't walk, I'd crawl to you, and no matter how broken we were, we'd fight our way out together--knives drawn, pistols blazing. Because that's what we do. We never stop fighting.

Wesper: adorable adorable adorable. my favorite gay mfs in the world. Jesper is such a fucking flirt though he had ME blushing. Also when Jesper kissed Kuwei HAHAHA WHATTT, the way Kuwei was like 😏 had me gone. Anyway, the chemistry between these two was something else (so much better than in the first book) and the ending with them was wholesome I'm so happy they got the happy ending.

Wylan shrugged. “Maybe. Not all poisons have an antidote.” Jesper snorted. “That’s why we call him Wylan Van Sunshine.”

This was the kiss he’d been waiting for. It was a gunshot. It was prairie fire. It was the spin of Makker’s Wheel. Jesper felt the pounding of his heart—or was it Wylan’s?—like a stampede in his chest, and the only thought in his head was a happy, startled, Oh. (<3)

Helnik: cries. again. sobs. This one hurt me so bad, I literally was just sitting in my bed staring at the wall, book in hand, crying. They had such a beautiful relationship and they grew so much together it HURT. The way Matthias was so protective of Nina and was always worrying about her. They planned their future together in their heads all the time. They were SO HAPPY WHY COULDN"T THEY JUST BE HAPPY.

They deserved the world.

I will always protect you, even in death, I will find a way.

You aren't a flower, you're every blossom in the wood blooming at once. You are a tidal wave. You are a stampede. You are overwhelming.

Final Thoughts:

My final thoughts are scattered throughout the review, but overall this book took everything from Six of Crows and made it better. It broke me, made me laugh, had me angry as fuck, but it also left me feeling like I knew these characters and they knew me. It really was so much better than the first book in so many different levels and I will never get over this book. Truly better than waffles.

[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | 32

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff

; Word Count: 4k

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: A light chapter that I hope you’ll all enjoy! It’s fluffy and fun...but there’s also something significant that happens in it. So PLEASE let me know your thoughts and what you liked about it! The feedback has been decreasing as we’re getting to the end, which is a little disheartening :)

; Flower Masterpost

-

“Hobi! Oh my god, try this. It’s so delicious.” You practically moaned out, almost wiggling with delight on the aluminium seat. It wasn’t too hot thankfully, the clouds a little overcast but the hoodie you wore combat any chill. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Because you were on vacation. And not the kind of vacations you were used to, which were usually a little weekend break here and there at the closest beach or some nature park. You didn’t have any kind of issue with those places of course but you’d always yearned to be able to travel even further. Explore other countries.

Which is what you were doing right now. 

For your second anniversary, Hoseok had surprised you with two weeks in Italy. Two things about that had shocked you. Firstly, the very fact that you’d now been with Hoseok for two years. Secondly, that he’d saved up some of his much higher salary and chosen to take you to one of the countries you’d always wanted to visit.

You hadn’t even known that he’d managed to subtly arrange it with your manager, a woman that you liked and enjoyed working for now. Two weeks of vacation time had been booked for you quietly and he’d organised the hotel, flights and even buying new suitcases. Stuff like this only happened in fiction, or so you’d thought.

But here you were, in the heart of Rome. It had already been a week and you’d eagerly taken in the magnificent sites of the Colosseum, the imposing Pantheon and the ancient Forum. As a lover of history, every part of it had excited you and you’d happily dragged Hoseok around to read every single information stand available while begging him to agree to go inside them all.

Not that he’d taken much begging really, he was just as eager to see things as you were. The only difference was that he was excited because of all the fantastic photo opportunities he was discovering. He’d brought his top of the line camera with him and was going wild with it, finding all the best angles and lighting to bring Rome’s important buildings to life.

For once, you’d been more than happy to pose for his photos. Each picture had you smiling so brightly, happiness evident in every part of you as you just relaxed and enjoyed yourself.

Hoseok leans forward, mouth open and waiting as you scoop up a good amount of pasta onto your fork. Carefully, a hand underneath to avoid any fallout, you fed it to him and watched his reaction eagerly. He chewed for a moment, expression thoughtful before letting out a quiet hum of appreciation.

While Hoseok had opted to go for a pizza bianca, you’d instead chosen the intriguing-sounding pasta alla gricia. It was better than you’d thought it would be, given you’d been a little unsure over the ingredients at first and your boyfriend agreed with your thought process as he nodded with a smile.

“It is good. Do you want a slice of this? It’s also better than it looks. Never considered having a pizza without tomato sauce anymore but...when in Rome, right?” Rolling your eyes at him, you sighed playfully. That was his favourite line to say at the moment, he seemed to take great pleasure out of it.

Instead of responding, you just opened your mouth up as well and let him feed you a piece of the pizza. For a moment, you let the flavours simply roll over your tongue as you chew. It was slightly salty, with hints of the olive oil it was cooked with and layered with delicious parmesan that gave it a lovely cheesy kick.

“Urgh, why doesn’t Italian food taste like this at home?” You moan softly, wiping at your mouth with the napkin before taking a sip of water. Laughing softly, Hoseok continues to eat as he shrugs and you marvel at how easily he travels.

Even though he quite clearly doesn’t fit into the little family-run restaurant you’d both stopped at, he seemed to feel at ease no matter where he was. While you understand feeling at ease with him at home, it was strange to see that he was just as comfortable no matter where he was.

“Probably because the food at home has been filtered through like...a million non-Italian mouths or something. The same way Indian food is nothing like what it is actually in India, you know? This is...this is the real shit.” Pointing towards his plate, he grins and you sigh affectionately before reaching out and brushing away some crumbs from his mouth.

He was like a child sometimes when he ate. Constantly get it everywhere except his mouth it seems. It was cute.

“Do you think they’d give me the recipe if I asked? I’d love to try and make this at home. Authentically.” Murmuring to him, you glance over to the older lady who had come out of the kitchen. This seemed to be a truly family-run place in that she’d only gone in there to cook your food.

“Err, I don’t know. Do you speak Italian? Aren’t Italian grandma’s like...feisty or something?” 

“Now you’re stereotyping.” Pointing the fork at him, he just grins and shrugs with amusement. You don’t argue any further with him though, instead focusing on cleaning up your plate with enthusiastic gusto. The two of you were planning to head over to the Trevi Fountain and walk around for a little while, enjoy some gelato and what remains of whatever good weather there will be today.

You were going to throw a Euro into the fountain to guarantee that you’d come back one day before kissing Hoseok silly in some alcove. Enjoy a little of Rome at night before finally heading back to the hotel. Maybe even some more kissing, who knows? You liked it with him.

Once you’d both finished, you went and paid. Unfortunately, you became far too shy to ask about any recipes once there, so instead, you just complimented the old lady in your broken Italian before smiling brightly and leaving quickly. Hoseok’s laughter at your inability to ask caused you to gently poke his ribs until he was asking you to stop.

The walk to the Trevi Fountain was long, but you found that you enjoyed every moment of it. Even though you’d only been here a week, you had fallen truly in love with Rome. An ancient city that has captured your young heart with its delicious food, stunning architecture and rich culture.

Even just a stroll in the evening like now, you felt like you were in some kind of romance film. From the subtle, warm filter Rome seems to have to its colour scheme to the old building’s, the cobbled streets in some areas and the way ancient ruins seemed to pepper the city liberally. You loved every inch of it. Including the graffiti and the not-so-tourist friendly areas. It was proof to you that the city was lived in, and had been lived in continuously for over two millennia.

Surprisingly, you didn’t talk much on the way there. Instead, you were too busy just admiring everything and simply enjoying the moment. If you were this in love with Rome already then you had the itch to not only get to explore more of Italy but also explore the world. And you certainly couldn’t think of anyone better to do that with than the wonderful man by your side.

“Where do you wanna go on vacation next? What about...Greece? Or maybe Japan? New Zealand and Chile are definitely on my list but I’d also like to go to at least one country in each continent. What about you?” Peppering him with questions, Hoseok looks at you with wide eyes before laughing.

“Woman! We’re not even through two weeks in Italy! And you’re already planning our next trip?” Snorting, he rolls his eyes before kissing your temple with more affection than his pseudo-outraged words. “I don’t know, I’m pretty open to anywhere I think. Maybe India? Try that real food like we’ve talked about? Egypt? We could try and visit all the super ancient places. What’s that place with the big, building thing carved into a mountain or somet? It’s all orange?”

“Petra? That’s in Jordan. I want to go there too!” He just smiles at you, squeezing your hand before squinting at the signpost just ahead. You’re finally approaching your destination and you grin as the two of you move through some of the little alleys that make up Roman streets before finally coming upon the world-famous monument.

“Oooh, it’s pretty,” You whisper, simply staring at it with awe. “The water is so...blue. How do they do that?”

The soft click of Hoseok’s camera distracts you, causing you to look over to him before raising a brow. He just smiles and shrugs, looking down at his screen and you presume he’s just taken another photo of you seeing something for the first time. It would seem he’s gaining a collection of your reactions.

“I know something prettier,” Hoseok whispers into your ear. Almost immediately you cringe, pulling away from him to scowl while your lips pull away from your teeth almost automatically.

“Oh don’t. Don’t be that cheesy guy.” You whine, half-heartedly fighting as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer. He’s laughing though, so you know he’s not offended by what you’ve said. 

“I’ll tell your mom that you don’t think she’s prettier than the Trevi Fountain then. What kind of daught-oof.” Bending over slightly, he holds a hand to his stomach from where you’d elbowed him. It doesn’t stop him from laughing though and you find yourself following along despite how annoying he can be.

“Here.” Handing you a Euro coin, Hoseok takes a deep breath before letting it out slowly. Standing upright again, he gives you that brilliant and beautiful smile that you’ve come to love so dearly over the last two years.

“I read about this, you gotta stand with your back to it and throw it over your left shoulder with your right hand. That means we’ll come to Rome one day.” Giving him a satisfied look, you do as exactly as you told him to and throw the coin with gusto. He takes a moment to watch the coin fly through the air before doing the same with his own Euro, sealing the promise of a future trip.

“How many coins do you think are in here? There are hundreds.” Hoseok whispers, wrapping his arms around your waist and cuddling you closely from behind. The two of you stand there for a moment and watch as others crowd around the Fountain, some throwing coins of their own in while others simply take pictures.

There’s plenty of tourists here, but thankfully your anniversary isn’t near the true tourist season. So while there’s a lot, it’s manageable in your view. Still, you wouldn’t want to be the municipal workers cleaning up after all this.

“Come on, I want some gelato now.” Pulling out of his embrace, you head towards one of the side streets that lead away from the Fountain, positive that you’ll find a gelato shop hidden away this close to a tourist trap. It’s what you’d do if you wanted quick money.

It takes no time at all to find a nice looking shop and you soon have a cone in your hand with three large scoops of delicious looking gelato topping it. One is just plain vanilla, another is pineapple while the last is strawberry. Nothing too outrageous, but just a combination that makes your taste buds dance.

There’s not much in the way of public seating, unfortunately, so the two of you just sit down on the curbside of one of the streets. It’s pretty deserted with only the odd parked car every now and then. A few more mopeds are parked a little haphazardly but you’re not too worried about them really, they’re small enough that neither of you would be a nuisance if they wanted to get by.

“Mm, this is good.” Hoseok hums and you look over, catching him at the very moment that he licks at his mint chocolate flavoured gelato. It’s a pretty innocent movement, but the way his tongue curls into the soft, frozen cream reminds you of how he uses that tongue for something and you shiver softly. Thankfully, he doesn’t notice and you quickly glance away. It doesn’t help that you’re now considering how cold his tongue piercing might be from eating that.

Quietly, the two of you simply enjoy your cold treat while the gentle buzzing of the tourists only a few streets away filters through the alleyways. It’s getting close to sunrise and even though you wouldn’t say it was cold, the air certainly felt cool enough to warrant you cuddling a little closer into the warmth of your hoodie.

“So, now that we’re just chilling for a little bit. I have something important that I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.” Shifting slightly until he’s facing you more, you look up slowly to find him giving you a serious look. He’s got one of those ‘I’m about to ask you something life-changing’ looks. You’re not sure why you know that, but you can just tell instinctively.

“Are you about to ask me to marry you?” Blurting out the words, you slap your hand over your mouth as your eyes widen. Well, you certainly hoped he wasn’t now. If he was, you’d just ruined the whole moment.

Sure enough, Hoseok’s eyes widen at your words and he recoils a little, confusion mixed with shock painted onto his face.

“What? No! Why would you think that?” You’d laugh under any other circumstances if Hoseok had this kind of reaction to anything else. But he looks concerned as to why you thought he might be proposing, a hand resting on his chest almost like he’s trying to protect himself or something.

“Well...I don’t know! You whisk me away to Rome for a romantic holiday for our second anniversary? Then, after having a good time, you tell that you have something important to talk to me about and you look so serious! It was an educated guess!” Folding your arms over your chest, you hunch your shoulders over to make yourself a little smaller.

“I wasn’t going to propose. Did you want me to?” He sounds a little unsure then and you see the way his lips purse in thought like he’s wondering if maybe he should have been proposing or something. “And anyway, if I was going to propose then you’ve totally ruined the moment! It’s meant to be romantic and shit.”

Yeah, now he looks put out. His lower lip jutting out over how his non-proposal has been interrupted and you can’t help the laugh that leaves you at the sight. He’s too cute for his own good, honestly.

“I’m sorry. I’ll make sure to not interrupt any romantic moment in the future. I promise.” There’s only the tiniest hint of sarcasm in your voice as you tell him that. Just a teeny, tiny bit. It’s enough to make him give you a droll stare though, reaching out to gently poke at your cheek with his index finger.

Grabbing his hand, you smile at him innocently before pressing a kiss to the soft flesh of his palm. For a moment, he lets you before shifting until he’s holding your hand in his own. Tilting your head at him, you wonder what he had been about to tell you and he understands the silent question with a small smirk.

“So, anyway. As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted. Just before we flew out here, and I mean literally just before. Like...only two hours before we went to the airport, so don’t get too mad at me if you’re going to get mad. But that’s beside the point. Anyway, our landlady called me.” Hoseok pauses for a moment, letting you compute that information before carrying on.

Given he was far more comfortable talking on the phone, you’d elected to have him be the point of contact for anything related to the house. You figured he’d be able to sort out any of the non-important stuff by himself and anything important would be discussed by you both. Like right now.

“Oh...have we done something wrong? We signed the new lease properly and on time, right?” The two of you had signed a lease for another year just the other month. You liked the house and felt fully settled in it now, not wanting the hassle of having to move anywhere when you’d made it feel like a home. Thankfully, your landlady, Elsie, was lovely and had dealt with any issues quickly and efficiently.

“No, we’ve done nothing wrong. It’s just...she told that she’s going to sell the house. She’s moving across the country to be closer to her family as they’ve all moved away. So she’s selling up everything here to fund her move to a retirement home over there. We’ve got a few months until it’ll probably be sold and will need to move out.” He goes to carry on talking but you’re gripping his hand tightly, worry flickering to life inside you and anxiety following quickly after.

“What! She’s selling? But...but what about us? What do we do? Oh god, we need to find somewhere that’ll let us take Kasumi and-” You’re quieted by Hoseok’s finger on your lips, a gentle smile on his own that seems oddly calm for the bombshell he’s just dropped.

“If you’d let me finish...I thought you weren’t going to interrupt anymore?” Teasing you lightly, he taps your lips before sighing and shuffling on the hard curb. Looking in both directions, he takes the opportunity to stretch his legs out, the black Converse on his feet looking just as dirty as ever.

“What I was about to tell you, was that she told me that we’d been some of her best tenants even though we haven’t been there too long. Because she wants to sell quickly and get moving, she then asked if maybe we’d like to buy the house. First dibs on it. It’s going to go up for a reasonable price and I know we’ve both been putting money into our individual savings accounts for the last year. I mean, I can afford the deposit if necessary and I’m pretty sure we can get a nice mortgage.” Staring at him with wide eyes, you don’t quite realise that your jaw has dropped until he’s affectionately closing it with bemusement.

“Also, before you say anything. Let me just...say my piece here. It’s a good price and well, I’d like to do it. We’ve been together two years now, I love you and I can’t imagine my future without you. So...it’s not a marriage proposal but it is a ‘would you like to take a leap of faith and purchase a physical house with me that will require a mortgage for many years?’. As I said, I’ve got enough saved up to cover the deposit and...well...I know my parents will put money in. What should’ve been my sister’s college fund instead got turned into a ‘whenever you buy a house fund’, despite me telling them to donate it. So...we can get a small mortgage. Easily manageable.” There’s no need for you to ask if he’s thought about this because it’s incredibly obvious that he has. 

So instead, you simply watch him in stunned silence. He wanted to buy a house with you. The house you currently lived in, that had become your home for over a year. Not just your home, but the safest place you’ve ever felt outside of your parents home. And he wanted to make that permanent.

Or at least, as permanent as you can get it without having to pay out lots of legal bills to get it all sold. This was a big move. A huge step in your relationship. Hell, in your life. A house. Buying a house. And you weren’t even thirty yet!

“I have some saved up,” Whispering, you cast your eyes down to instead focus on his hand as you gently trail along the veins and tendons along the back. “Probably not as much as you but enough to help.”

“Okay...what if you keep that money. And if we buy it, then we can use that money to start doing some of those home improvements we’ve always wished we could do? Like a new fence.” Gasping softly, you’re suddenly taken away from the fact that you were being faced with a big decision because your excited mind started to run away with you. While you weren’t a big fan of change, you were surprisingly a huge fan of causing planned change.

Which meant you loved decorating or building things. Moving the furniture around in a room and decorating everything into something entirely new was so incredibly satisfying. Plus, Hoseok was right. You’d spent the last year fantasising to him about all the stuff you would improve or change in the house if you could.

Because that’s what adult life was about. Getting excited at the prospect of new fencing.

“Oh my god, yes! And a new roof! Finally, get rid of those ugly tiles. And we can pave over the driveway so it doesn’t have that annoying gravel that gets everywhere. Can we redo the backyard entirely? I want a porch from the back door and then it leads down-” Laughing in amusement, Hoseok gently squeezes your hand before kissing your cheek when you look down in embarrassment.

“Okay, we can make a plan of all the DIY things we want to do. But I just need to know for the moment...would you agree to buy it? With me? We can sort everything properly when we get home, plan out the money and apply for the mortgage and all that. I just want to know for now.” 

You don’t respond for probably half a minute, causing Hoseok to frown slightly. But then you almost burst in excitement, jumping up and dancing on the spot in uncontrollable excitement. Hoseok wasn’t expecting it, his eyes widening in shock while his hands are reaching out to you as if he was worried you were going to fall.

“Oh my god! Buying a house! This is...oh my god. Hoseok! You want to buy a house with me?” Reaching for his hands, you half tug him up and he snorts while catching his balance. Resting his palms on your hips, he brings you to a halt before grinning down at you.

“Yes, I want to buy a house with you. I mean, that’s why I asked. So is this a yes? You're an impossible woman, you know that? It’s not a marriage proposal but I’d still quite like a yes from you…” Trailing off, he pouts slightly and you reach up to gently flick at his lip ring.

“Yes. I mean, we need to talk more seriously about it and sort out the finances but...yes. As long as we can do all the things I want to. Like new doors inside. I hate the doors we have now, they’re so annoying.” Hoseok sighs like he’s got the weight of the world on his back before dropping his forehead to your shoulders, arms wrapping around your waist and hugging you tightly.

“Okay, okay. I give in, we’ll make a list of all the things we want to change later. But you realise we have to buy the place first, right? And then save up again to make all these home improvement changes? It’s not going to be cheap.” You don’t hear him though, giving him a quick kiss before humming to yourself as you visualise your house as it is and your house as you want it to be.

Watching you closely, Hoseok lets out another breath before smiling and shaking his head. Well, at least you’d said yes. 

[docholligay]

Chinese Food in The American West

One of the things I frequently come across as a student of the American West* is that people get most of their information from movies and TV and then act like they know things. Wyatt Earp was not a Lawful Good champion who always did his level best even when it was hard to know. (You want Seth Bullock or Bass Reeves). Racism was far more complicated than white vs not white (I’ve talked about this EXTENSIVELY in Strange Empire, so I’m not going to bore you here**). 

And they didn’t just eat steak. In fact, they rarely ate steak. 

Steak as cowboy food isn’t INACCURATE, but it is MODERN. From about the early 1900s on, you had less and less drives and more and more ranchers who were staying put, with less and less hands needed, and so food was grabbed less “on the go.” Cows could be slaughtered and used to feed the family, allowing for more opportunities for things like steak, yes, but also things like chili, a play on sauerbraten, southern-style biscuits. The cattle drives were a real blend of culture and race, and a lot of what we have left as “Western food” owes a great deal to that. 

And if we leave the cattle drives and head into the towns of the American West, as we will today, we find things like oysters, pies, and various things like that. Far more well-heeled than the general expectation. 

I mean, here’s the menu from the Occidental Saloon circa the late 1880s:

Soups

Chicken Giblet and Consumme, with Egg

Fish

Columbia River Salmon, au Beurre Noir

Relieves

Filet a Boeuf, a la Financier

Leg of Lamb, Sauce, Oysters

Cold Meats

Loin of Beef, Loin of Ham, Loin of Pork, Westphalia Ham, Corned Beef, Imported Lunches

Boiled Meats

Leg of Mutton, Ribs of Beef, Corned Beef and Cabbage, Russian River Bacon

Entrees

Pinons a Poulett, aux Champignons

Cream Fricasse of Chicken, Asparagus Points

Lapine Domestique, a la Matire d'Hote

Casserole d'Ritz aux Oeufs, a la Chinoise

Ducks of Mutton, Braze, with Chipoluta Ragout

California Fresh Peach, a la Conde

Roasts

Loin of Beef, Loin of Mutton, Leg of Pork

Apple Sauce, Suckling Pig, with Jelly, Chicken Stuffed Veal

Pastry

Peach, Apple, Plum, and Custard Pies

English Plum Pudding, Hard Sauce, Lemon Flavor

This dinner will be served for 50 cents.

-I got this from the book “Saloons of the Old West” by Erdoes

But none of that is precisely why I’m here, I just can’t stop myself from talking about this, why I’m here is that one of the things I say that often surprises people, is that Chinese food was incredibly common for the, well, common man to eat. There’s very much a conception that we as a non-Chinese American  people did not start eating Chinese food until the 40s and 50s, and its truer that it took longer to catch on in the American East than the West simply as a matter of proximity and choice. 

Not MORE choice but LESS. Part of what made the West so unique, historically, is that the lack of choice and the basic scarcity caused people to work with and patronize people that their general prejudices would have kept them from using back east, because they had CHOICES. But out in the west, less so. There were few choices for a quick, cheap meal on the go. That dinner I just posted above is a lavish affair, and a great deal at approximately $20.00 in today’s money. (Which does not allow for the fact that cost of supplies has gone up and this dinner would most likely be offered for no less than 70 or so today.) 

People desperately wanted something that was cheap and quick, and the other options in the American West were few, far between, and not intensely pleasing. No one had really come up with the sandwich shop as of yet, and in any case, fresh meats and cheeses would have been too difficult for the low-cost supplier. 

ENTER THE CHINESE POPULATION.

If you have read my Strange Empire blogs, I hope you know that Chinese people were a huge presence in the American West, mostly working for the railroad and various mines, but also doing things like laundry, work that was extremely hard but took little in the way of English speaking. They existed in Chinatowns, for a combination of cultural and legal factors, but it’s a misconception that non-Chinese*** people never went to Chinatown. 

People are not new, and it was not unusual for non-Chinese people to use the laundries, tailoring, and other services of Chinatowns while suppressing the rights of Chinese people int he same breath. There were always individual Chinese people any given non-Chinese person liked and did business with. 

In time, they discovered the inherent wisdom of the noodle bowl. 

I don’t mean to suggest that all these early restaurants served was noodle bowls, but that was where it all started. Remember, Italian food had little prominence in America at the this time, as Italian immigration didn’t really get into full swing until the 1870s in America. While there are noodle traditions half of everywhere, and there is nothing new under the sun, what we today would consider a stir-fry bowl was wildly new to most of the non-Chinese folks in the West. That it could be offered up so cheaply, was so filling, and so delicious (more on this later) was a wild revelation. Everyone from simple cowboys (which, fun fact! Was a slur back then!) to mayors were swinging by Chinatowns to try the dishes. 

By the 1920s, chop suey, a fully Chinese American invention derived from the words for “various leftovers” was a hugely popular American food among all sorts. 

Doc, you may ask, was it just that these folks coming through to get medicines or laundry were SO adventurous? Not at all! Chinese restaurants back then actually, in a very short amount of time, realized that their non-Chinese townsfolk were an excellent way to make money as well, and began to adapt and change dishes to better fit the Western palate, leading what we call American Chinese Food today, which is a legitimate foodway I will defend to my death. Unfortunately, none of these menus survive today--the only ones we have are from places in San Francisco, places that were much more posh, and not the subject of this essay. 

There is a scene in Tombstone where Wyatt and his brothers are eating Chinese food, and it’s one of the things people often ask me about, assuming it’s anachronistic. Actually, it isn’t at all--the anachronism is that there’s broccoli in those noodle bowls, which had not yet hit our shores by the time of the OK Corral. Chinese food was a huge hit, Chinese restaurants were doing extremely well, and some Chinese restaurants were even beginning to attempt to print menus in English, with sit down areas, instead of serving simple fare from food carts. 

As the food from these “chow chow houses” grew in popularity, as we can infer from the advertisements of their competitors promising free potatoes with every meal, and other such niceties to entice, there was, as ever there must be, blowback. Anti-Chinese sentiment grew to a fever pitch, and with this came overt pressure for ‘Good Americans” to patronize ‘American restaurants’. The social pressure is actually where we get some of that old racist jargon about Chinese people serving dogs and cats, which people often think was spread by competitors to degrade the Chinese restaurants, which isn’t UNTRUE, but was just as often said sheepishly by someone who couldn’t stop themselves from going and grabbing a noodle bowl or even the American dishes they offered, such as roast chicken or pork chop sandwiches. 

(I won’t comment with anything but an eyeroll on the bullshit of people saying they’re ~allergic to MSG~ okay I’ll believe you when you stop eating processed food, meat, aged cheese) 

It actually kept this type of reputation as being slightly scandalous well into the early 1900s, as being something you ate after the bar, something to be had in the shadows, but it was all for naught, because Chinese food became an important part of American identity. But for all that, no one ever pictures the Lone Ranger chowing down (the American phrase ‘chow’ for food actually comes from these ‘chow chow houses’) on some chop suey, but there’s every reason to believe he would have. American Chinese food is just as American as the Germanically-influenced hamburger. 

(There’s a whole subtopic to go down about Jewish and Chinese communities and Kosher Chinese Food, two marginalized and othered communities coming together, but that’s a WHOLE other topic) 

(Also someone please buy me Chinese food. This shit always makes me so hungry.) 

*The American West is a specific time period, as far as the study of history goes. It covers the period between the end of the Civil War and the New Century, generally, and is, obviously, concerned with the western half of the country. It doesn’t cover stuff like Lewis and Clark (that’s Expansion) or even the Civil War itself, though you cannot possibly hope to study the American West in any level of seriousness without understanding the Civil War. Anyway! I know a lot about America between 1865 and 1900, and am just knowledgeable enough to be dangerous on everything else. Most History nerds are highly specified like this. We’re not as much help to your trivia team as you think.****

**I actually have had little chance to talk about ~European-style xenophobia~ as it played out in the west, because Strange Empire takes a more modern pass at it. But there was a hierarchy of “whiteness” as well, as still largely exists in Europe, land of intentionally clean ethnostates. 

***I use the term “non-Chinese” instead of white because believe it or not, non-white people were not magically free of racism against Chinese people. It was horrific and BASICALLY every non-Chinese person was guilty of it to some level, a wild-ass level of hatred that led to Chinese folks not being able to PURCHASE PROPERTY BY LAW in ENTIRE STATES. Being Chinese or Native in this place and time was your Worst Bet. 

****I actually was on a competitive trivia team, you DO want me.

[shanie-the-toyaddict]

Stay

A Sami and Kevin Fanfic

_____________________________________________

4070 Words No Pairings Present (Zowens if you squint)

As Kevin lays in a hospital bed after Money in the Bank, he finds himself confronted by one Sami Zayn. But has Sami come to gloat? To enjoy Kevin's suffering yet again?

Or is there something else motivating his visit?

No violence or smut, but there is some foul language so, Rated T?

The worst thing about ladder matches was the fucking ladders.

Well, maybe not the ladders themselves; ladders were a useful tool in everyday life and carried no ill will of their own. But when you put them in the hands of the type of angry, violent assholes who filled the locker room of the WWE, it never ended well.

To be fair, Kevin Owens was one of those angry, violent assholes and he was happy to use the ladders to commit such acts himself but as he lay in a hospital bed in Fort Worth Texas battered, beaten, and with an injured neck that didn’t want to work courtesy of Seth Rollins powerbombing him through one of said ladders, he couldn’t help but curse the existence of the damn things.

Still, he wasn’t in much pain. He wasn’t feeling much of anything, really. Kevin was never one for painkillers outside the hospital; he'd been in the industry long enough to know that they could lead you down a dark path of no return and that was the last thing he wanted for himself or his family. But, as long as he was in the hospital, they were fine. Plus, if you got yourself into enough trouble to wind up in a hospital bed, you were likely at a point where they were a necessity.

This was one of those times.

On top of the painkillers, he was tired, so tired. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, but it couldn’t have been long. Two days at the most. They’d taken the neck brace off at some point, although they’d warned him to try not to move his head much. He’d been sleeping on and off ever since arriving, but it never seemed to help. He wanted to sleep more, the utter exhaustion from the past few months having caught up with him.

His body was broken. Between his injured arm, his injured knee, and now his injured neck, he was ready for a vacation. He’d intended on taking one several weeks back but Sami, that infuriating bastard, couldn’t be left alone for more than a week. Kevin had been drawn back in again, this time for a Last Man Standing match, in an effort to end Sami’s reign of terror once and for all.

It hadn’t worked. He’d beaten Sami down until he couldn’t get up again, sure. But his original goal of fixing Sami went unfulfilled, and Kevin realized it always would. You couldn’t help someone who didn’t want to be helped and it was clear Sami didn’t want his help. He was too deranged and paranoid to see that Kevin gave a damn and, whatever, it was what it was. Kevin was shit at trying to help people anyway, he had no idea what made him think he could help Sami in the first place.

Best just to leave him to his insanity. He’d burn himself out eventually.

Hopefully.

Still, a break was a break, nearly literally in this case, and as he lay in the hospital bed half asleep, he couldn’t help but think that the room would be better with company. And as he stared up at the ceiling of the hospital room, contemplating another nap, he got his wish... in the worst way possible.

Kevin heard him before he saw him.

“You're an asshole, Kevin Owens,” he heard the voice say as he entered the room.

Kevin’s eyes shifted over to look towards the door.

Yep, it was definitely Sami Zayn, as bitter as ever.

Kevin squeezed his eyes shut.

Great, he thought, completely disgusted, the last fucking person I wanted to see.

“Go away,” he grumbled. His voice was raspy and weak and it only served to piss him off more. Being weak was never something Kevin tolerated from himself and being weak in front of Sami? Unacceptable.

Still, Kevin knew he didn’t have the strength left for the appropriate amount of rage warranted, so he would just have to make do with what he could give. Staring up at the ceiling once more, Kevin responded.

“I’m not dealing with your shit today,” he told Sami. “I’m tired. Whatever the hell you want, it can wait till Friday.”

A chuckle escaped Sami’s throat as he replied, “Oh, and I care so much about what you want. Really, I do. Oh, hang on, no I don't.”

Kevin sighed. If he’d had the strength, he’d already be out of his bed, strangling the lunatic. It was true that Kevin cared about Sami, but as he’d stated before, Sami wasn't Sami anymore. At the very least, he wasn’t his Sami. His Sami was an angel, kind, loving, protective, and all the things that Kevin secretly wished the powers of the universe had given him the capacity to be. But this new Sami? He was one big ball of psycho and just being around the bastard made Kevin want to throttle him.

But the truth was, there was nothing he could do about Sami being there. Sure, he could call the nurse to have him removed, but Sami would just cause a scene like he always did, and Kevin didn’t need any more stress. The best option was to ignore him until he went away.

He closed his eyes once more and said nothing.

Fuck him, he thought.

He feeds off attention. Don’t give it to him.

Kevin heard Sami drag a chair across the floor to sit down beside him.

“Besides,” Sami said, “I’m loving the look. You stuck in a hospital bed? It’s such a wonderful birthday present. A bit late, but really, great job, Kevin. A for effort. You outdid yourself this year.”

There was something about the tone in Sami’s voice, something that Kevin couldn’t quite put his finger on. Kevin pushed it from his mind. Whatever new flavor of insanity Sami had brewing he didn’t care.

Still, Sami didn’t shut up.

“I mean, I’m sure that’s what it was. A birthday present. At the very least it’s a gift from the universe. Karma for everything you’ve done to me. And it is so sweet. Sweet, beautiful Karma.”

Kevin was rapidly losing his patience. He wasn’t going to shut up. Granted, he never did, but like an idiot, Kevin had hoped this was the exception.

Mustering up all the energy he could but still not looking at Sami, Kevin responded, “Is that why you came? To gloat?”

“Gloat? Gloat?” said Sami, the mania not leaving his voice, “Why wouldn’t I? It isn’t like you didn’t try to break my back two weeks ago.Again. I mean, I have to hand it to you, credit for staying true to form. It isn’t enough to betray me time and time again, the consistency for you trying to end my career is admirable.”

There was definitely something about Sami’s tone. Kevin was trying valiantly to try and ignore it but the more the redhead ranted, the harder it got. Through the weariness, Kevin tried to place it. Once upon a time, he’d have been able to read Sami like a book without the need for words or other lesser means of communication. But whatever hellscape Sami’s mind had become, there was no understanding him anymore, even with words. Still, Kevin needed to try.

Anger? Well, that was surface level and to be expected. Hate? Again, par for the course between them. Regret? Possibly, but they’d put each other through so much by that point that their entire history was coated with regret. It was nothing new for either of them and it wasn’t what he was hearing now.

“Although, I have to say, Kevin,” Sami continued, “trying to end your own career? Odd choice. Brave, and entirely on point for your level of bullshit but still – odd choice.”

As the statement left Sami’s lips, the tonal shift became more evident than ever and, suddenly, Kevin realized what was happening.

Concern. That’s what was burning at the edges of Sami’s voice. Concern.

Suddenly, Kevin couldn’t avoid looking at Sami any longer. Pushing through the grogginess and haze, he turned his head to look at his former best friend. As he did, Kevin realized that, as tired as he felt, Sami somehow looked even more tired. His face was haggard and his already wild curls looked messier than usual, and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a couple of days and the sight caught Kevin off guard like a kick to the stomach.

Still, Kevin didn’t care. He knew he didn’t. Not even a little and if he could just convince himself of it long enough for Sami to leave...

“You look like shit,” Kevin said.

Sami’s eyes fell to the floor, the façade starting to break. “So do you.”

Kevin couldn’t deny it anymore. Sami was worried about him.

And somehow, that made everything so much worse.

Don’t say anything,Kevin’s mind was screaming. Just let him leave. Don’t engage, don’t say a word...

“Are you... worried about me?” Kevin asked, despite himself.

Goddammit.

“NO!” Sami replied fervently, shaking his head as his eyes darted off in another direction. “No, of course – no, no! Why would I – no. No.”

It was far too many “no’s” to be a denial.

After a moment, Sami settled down again, his eyes once more on the floor. There was a knot tying itself up in Kevin’s gut, a familiar ache that Kevin loathed with every fiber of his being. He hated that knot, but he could never seem to escape it. As much as he told himself, swore to himself that he didn’t care, it always came back. With every stunner, every beatdown, every apron powerbomb atrocity he committed against Sami, he felt it. He’d fought against the feeling for over a decade by that point but it was relentless, carving up his insides and leaving him empty.

It felt a hell of a lot like guilt.

Kevin watched as Sami rubbed his face with his hands.

“Sami...” he said warily, but he was immediately cut off.

“I mean, I hate you!” Sami exclaimed, his voice turning wild once more. “I hate you with every fiber of my being! Every part of me, every single strand, every single sinew stands in defiance against you and what you have spent your life doing to me. You represent everything that is wrong with the WWE, and you are everything that is wrong with my life! You’ve been holding me down for so long, why the hell do I care?!”

For a moment, Sami’s crazed eyes locked with Kevin's, and Kevin realized two things immediately. First, Sami had accidentally replaced the word “would” with “do” in his rant and, second, Sami knew that he had and suddenly needed a way out of it. As quickly as they met, Sami’s eyes were gone again, slammed shut, and turned away from Kevin.

“I don’t care,” he muttered. “I really, really don’t. I just -”

Sami tensed up for a moment as if trying to restrain himself from something before letting out a long sigh, leaning back in his chair, and relaxing slightly. He was still pointedly avoiding Kevin’s gaze and as Sami rubbed his nose with his hand a nagging thought crept into Kevin’s mind.

It was the kind of thought that, were things different between them, might have meant something. The kind of thought that, was Kevin’s heart not already hardened against his former friend, might have given him hope. It was the kind of thought that chewed at your soul, stabbed you in the chest, and left you feeling raw and gutted inside.

He knew he should ignore it and any other lies like it. They couldn’t be true, the universe was too indifferent to muster up that level of cruelty. Were Kevin a wiser man, he’d have thrown the idea into the metaphorical dumpster, tossed in a burning match, and slammed the lid shut. But when it came to Sami Zayn, Kevin had never been a wise man, and the thought kept building and building until it was roaring like a freight train in his brain.

Somehow, the thought told him, likely against his will and buried deep in the shattered and broken mind of his ex-best friend, Sami still loved him.

It was a horrible thought, and as it tore through Kevin like a chainsaw he realized that a far worse fact lay buried beneath that.

Despite everything he had convinced himself of, all of the violence and aggression, rage and bitterness, he felt the same way.

Fuck.

Kevin stared at Sami, the silence between them almost tactile. It was no good. Kevin knew as much. Whatever they might have had long ago, it was gone now. Whose fault it was didn’t matter, although he knew in his heart it was mostly his. His friend, his Sami, the man he loved so much and who Kevin once would have gladly laid down his life for knowing that he would do the same, was gone. Immolated and turned to ash amidst a thousand paranoias, conspiracies, and obsessions. But as Sami sat beside his bed, his shoulders slumped and what Kevin swore looked like tears in his eyes, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was a chance, some excruciatingly small chance that they could be mended; Made whole once more.

Put back together.

They sat in silence for several long, agonizing minutes and Kevin watched as Sami fought the moisture in his eyes, steeling himself before finally shaking his head, scrubbing his face and eyes with his hands roughly, and hunching over in defeat.

Kevin couldn’t hold it in any longer. He had to say something, anything to break the tension.

What came out of his mouth was a question.

“Are you alright?”

Such a stupid question.

Sami didn’t respond at first, and Kevin watched as he bit his lip angrily before, strangely, he let out a small chuckle. Then another, followed by a laugh, and before Kevin could react, Sami was laughing. Rising, escalating laughter that reeked of the insanity Sami had been suffering from for so long. Crazed, maniacal laughter that shook Sami's whole body, and, as he cackled, he started shouting.

“Am I ok?” he hollered, “Am I ok? The man in the hospital bed asks me if I am ok!”

Anger filtered into Kevin's heart. What the hell was the asshole laughing at him for, all he asked was...

Sami bolted to his feet kicking the chair out from under him.

“YOU DIDN’T MOVE!” Sami cried out, and suddenly, he wasn’t laughing anymore.

Kevin’s eyes went wide as Sami’s laughter choked and sputtered turning into something that was entirely different and burned itself into Kevin’s brain.

“You didn’t move!” repeated Sami, waving his hands as the tears in his eyes threatened to spill over, “You landed on your head, bent in half and you didn’t move! I mean, it was just for a second, but I thought...”

Kevin wanted to say something, anything to calm Sami down, but his tongue felt thick in his mouth and the words got caught in his throat.

Sami’s words were soaked with pain as he continued. “... I don’t know why the fuck it matters, anyway, we aren’t friends. You didn’t... I don’t think we ever were, you just used me, used us for years until you were done with me and - and then... but we...”

Sami trailed off and Kevin watched as he fought to regain control. It struck Kevin as odd that he was fighting, that he was even trying to calm down. Sami had been ranting and raving for so long that Kevin had assumed he’d just stopped giving a damn about civility. But standing at Kevin’s bedside, Sami’s hands were now clenched into tight fists at his sides, with his body stiff, his eyes closed, and a face straining under the pressure to keep it together.

And, somehow, the impossible occurred.

Sami succeed.

Kevin watched the visible signs of Sami’s battle against his own mind start to subside and an uneasy calm fell over the redhead. Sami relaxed a bit, taking several long breaths before continuing.

When he did, he sounded nothing like the Sami that Kevin had grown accustomed to. He wasn’t Kevin’s Sami either but, somehow, it was as if a middle ground had been reached.

“I know it was Seth,” Sami told him. “Seth powerbombed you, that – you didn’t choose that, and I can’t hold it against you. It happens. But even on Smackdown, with the ladder there, and all the other crazy shit you’ve been doing? You’re going to injure yourself. End your career. Or worse…”

Sami trailed off once more, wiping his wet eyes.

Kevin knew Sami had a point, some of his antics from the past few years had reached new and creative levels of stupidity, outpacing the risks he so willingly took in his younger years. And yes, time and time again, he’d managed to injure himself in the process.

Still, it wasn’t all on his shoulders and Kevin’s jaw was tight as he replied.

“You know, I remember someone shoving me through a pair of tables a couple weeks ago,” he said.

Sami’s eyes were once more on his shoes as he responded.

“I remember some asshole powerbombing me through a pair as well. You wouldn’t happen to know who that was, would you?”

There was so much hurt in Sami’s voice that it broke Kevins’ heart. The anger was feeling dissipated and KO could feel his soul shattering into hundreds of mirrored fragments, shards of a past, present, and future devoured by fury and hatred, each reflecting back a stark reminder of who caused this, who was to blame.

He’d done this. He was the one who turned Sami into who he was now. Sure, the mental breakdown had a hand in it but Sami’s fall from grace was entirely on Kevin. He was the one who dragged Sami into his world all those years ago, determined to “fix him” and “bring him to the light”. All he had done was pull his best friend into a darkness that Sami had yet to come back from.

And still, as far as Sami had fallen, as much as he had crashed and burned, somehow Kevin was still managing to hurt him more.

Kevin’s voice was low when he finally responded.

“I never meant to -” Kevin paused for a moment, modifying the sentence in his brain, “ - worry you. Sorry.”

Sami scowled, shaking his head. “Sorry doesn’t begin to cover it, Kev. Not anymore. We have gone so far past sorry. So damn far.”

Kevin tried valiantly to shut down the part of his brain that was screaming at him. They’d gone too far, it was true. Anything they might have once had was irreparably broken. His gut was twisting as he realized it but there was a voice in his brain screaming at him to try anyway. Do whatever it took. Apologize more. Get on his knees to ask forgiveness. Plead. Beg. Hell, just kiss the guy if that’s what it took. Whatever was necessary to bring Sami back into his life. Sure, his Sami might be gone forever, but watching Sami struggle not to care, fighting back tears as Kevin lay in a hospital bed?

Part of Kevin believed that there might be enough of his Sami left to pretend they were ok.

And, at the moment, that part was winning.

Looking over at his former friend, Kevin’s brown eyes were full of love as he spoke his name once more.

“Sami...” he said.

The way the name came out, passing over his lips like a tragic reminder of what once was and what he wished could be again. It was a promise that Kevin would never give up on Sami, regardless of what new hells they might put each other through. A sacred oath that no matter what fate or any other force might do to them, Kevin would keep fighting to save them both.

Worst of all, Kevin knew it was a prayer. A prayer that, against all odds, there was something still worth fighting for.

That’s what you do with angels, isn’t it, he thought, the regret in his heart twisting like a serrated blade.

You pray to them.

Sami’s eyes returned to Kevin’s once more and KO realized that he was right. There was so much hurt, rage, and yes, insanity there in those hazel orbs. But Kevin had spent so long staring into them over the last two decades that he knew, in his heart, that his guardian angel wasn’t dead.

Not yet.

Fallen, yes.

But not dead.

And at that moment, Sami’s fight against the tears in his eyes was lost and they brimmed over, rolling down his cheeks.

“Don’t,” Sami said, his voice equally as sad as Kevin’s, “Just... don’t.”

“What?” Kevin asked.

Sami’s voice was cracking as he replied. “Don’t talk like we’re friends.”

Despite himself, a smile began to break through Kevin’s soul-torn expression

“I just said your name,” he said.

“I know.”

For the briefest of moments, Kevin thought he saw Sami smile in return when, just as before, the moment was wrenched from him as Sami broke away, turning his head aggressively to send a clear message that he was having no part of Kevin’s attempt at kindness.

“No,” said Sami firmly, “No, this isn’t happening. You don’t get off that easily, you shithead. We’re done here.”

Without looking back, Sami turned and started walking towards the door.

“Stay,” Kevin blurted out before he could stop himself.

God, you’re hopeless.

Sami stopped in his tracks, still facing the door.

“Why,” he asked. “Give me one good reason.”

Sleep was beginning to wash over Kevin. He fought it, he had to. He wasn’t ready to let go of... whatever the hell was happening between them. He had to stay awake, even if it was only until Sami was gone.

He didn’t want it to end.

“I’m waiting,” Sami said. “Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t just walk away.”

There was no anger or attitude in his voice and Kevin couldn’t help but think Sami sounded as tired as he felt.

“Because I... I want you to stay,” Kevin admitted. It was all he had.

With a bitter chuckle, Sami turned his head sideways to say over his shoulder, “I said a good reason.”

His voice weary with pain and exhaustion, Kevin said, “I don’t have one. Stay anyway.”

Kevin watched as Sami tensed up for a moment as if ready to throw attitude once more before he slumped and let out one final shaky breath. Wordlessly, he turned around and, retrieving the chair from where he’d kicked it, set it upright and sat down.

Nothing more was said. It was better that way.

Looking one final time at Sami in the chair, Kevin couldn’t fight the need for sleep any longer. He wanted to memorize the sight, Sami beside him for the first time in years peacefully and without them hurling insults, powerbombs, or helluva kicks at each other.

It wouldn’t last; Kevin knew that and Sami had to as well. By Friday, none of it would matter, they would be back to hating each other. Or, even worse, not caring at all.

At least when Sami was wailing on him, Kevin was close to him. Fight forever, that’s what they always said. When he was fighting Sami, they communicated on a level few could hope to comprehend. At Wrestlemania, there was an energy in the air, as if they’d found a canvas to paint a masterpiece on that would rival the greatest works of Rembrandt or Van Gogh. When he fought Sami, it still felt like home.

Sami loving him was the greatest gift of all. Sami fighting him was a close second. But indifference?

That was the worst fate imaginable.

And as sleep started to consume him, Kevin gave a silent prayer to any angel that was listening, Sami or otherwise, that that wasn’t the future that awaited him when he woke up.

The heavy silence between them faded away to foggy nothingness, and Kevin felt himself drift away.

The final thing he registered before unconsciousness took him was the feeling of a hand wrapping around his own.

[akampana]

16 cutoria but in a vampire/werewolf au?

ANON LOOK WHAT YOU DID ITS 6716 WORDS LONG/lh

16 “I didn’t want to tell you like this, but I have no choice.” Werewolf AU Cú Chulainn x Arturia Pendragon

________

“You’ve stalled for too long, brat.”

The she-wolf dropped into the clearing without a sound, her experienced paws padding across the forest floor as lightly as the beating of butterfly wings. Scáthach was a creature of grace, even as a large canine. Her hunts were nothing short of elegant either, carried out quiet enough such as not to disturb the night. It was no wonder at all that she was once the Alpha of the pack.

The new Alpha was not so. Though the runs he was tasked to lead were mostly just as productive, he was rough and arrogant, hunting larger prey while scorning rabbits and smaller faunus. While the pups enjoyed being handed larger game whenever he came to the den, his chosen prey’s strangled cries always alerted nearby animals to go running. In winter, such conduct put the whole pack in danger of going hungry.

Despite that, it was only Scáthach who ever told him off, for there was no one else quite as strong as the large grey beast that was bestowed the honor of being their leader.

“You know what snow does to the rival packs, Cú,” hummed the wiser wolf as she circled the hubristic pup. She was never in favor of putting him in the lead just yet, but she had served her purpose, teaching him all that she knew. She didn’t doubt he had the prowess. He just lacked the responsibility.

“They have been seen closing in on our territory, now that prey runs scarce. You’ve been lucky, bringing in as much elk as you have thus far. But how will you maintain that while defending the territory, hm? Pull a miracle and find some loose sheep like you did last winter?”

Her pup-turned-leader snorted, shaking his snout as he stalked away. “This another attempt at getting me a mate, old hag?”

The she-wolf bared her teeth at the new alpha, batting his snout with her paw. “A mate shows power and longevity, you know this. Fionn may not have been the best father to you, but he brought you brothers and he brought you safety.”

“I ain’t taking Medb,” Cú snarled back, his fur standing on end at the thought. “So shove it. I’m heading out. Tell Ferdíad I can’t make it to game night.”

Without another word, the alpha wolf bounded off into the trees faster than the human eye could follow. He leapt past hills, his paws crunching snow beneath him, careless of the little prey that scuttled about. They were done with today’s hunt. Even Ferdíad's litter could go to sleep completely satisfied.

The wolf dodged through the thick vegetation mile after mile, until the paths he marked out for the younger wolves were no longer in sight. Although he doubted the den mother would approve of him going so far out into their territory alone, he was the alpha now. His decisions would no longer be questioned.

Finally, he came to a cave: an old abandoned bear den, that lesser beings avoided though its owner no longer lived there. His sharp ruby eyes darted to his surroundings, making sure he wasn’t followed. Then, he entered the den, as he had done several times before, and came out the cave’s other end.

Only Diarmuid knew about his hideout, and he’d like to keep it that way. As long as the beta kept this little secret within the pack territory, Cú could keep her safe.

The large canine made his way past a few evergreen trees ‘til the humble farm came into view. Sure enough, there she was in the middle of the fenced off enclosure, sitting amongst her sheep while the lambs fed on the last of the grass.

Here was Scáthach’s little “miracle”: a shepherd that had seen Cú’s starving figure at the edge of her farm last winter and purposely left her fence gate open. To this day, Cú still did not know why she did it, but her generosity got his entire pack through the harsh season.

In return, he’d secretly kept foxes and wild wolves off her farm, making sure the lesser beings knew better than to encroach on his personal territory.

At least, that’s what he did as a wolf.

Cú returned to his little cave, snarling as his fur receded into his skin. The alpha curled onto the ground, biting his own paw to stifle his groans as the bones within him shrank and contorted into a lesser form. His snout receded into a straight nose, his fangs into passably human sharp teeth. Without his night vision, Cú reached blindly for the small duffel bag tucked into a small hollow and pulled out an artificial coat and a pair of trousers.

What snuck out of the enclosure was no longer a grey apex predator, but a tall, muscled man with flowing dark hair: an ordinary hunter, no more special than the ones that frequented the northern town.

The bell chimed as he walked through the entrance, signalling the blonde shop owner of his arrival. Cú tried not to smile too widely as Arturia Pendragon popped her head through the staff door, but he knew that was a futile effort.

“Hey, shortie.”

“Good evening, Cú,” replied the woman, snorting at his favorite nickname for her as he hung his coat on the rack. “I have your usual ready...though I still cannot understand why you prefer coming here rather than the supermarket. You know Arthur takes our supply every Monday. He's down there with Arash the rest of the week. Isn’t that a little closer to home?”

Right. She still thought he lived in town. It was easier than saying he lived across the woods in a village even more secluded then hers which would be impossible to get to from here without a two hour drive unless you were a wolf that could cross the forest terrain in a fraction of time, so he didn’t correct her.

The Irishman shrugged and sank into the rug before the fireplace. “Mutton’s better fresh. 'Sides, the grocers don't stock your pies. Ya really should sell 'em, Arturia, I'm tellin' ya.”

The woman scoffed, lightly nudging her friend to the side with her foot. As he scooched over, she set down a food tray between them: one with two glasses of whiskey and two slices of pie.

"Flatterer," she accused, handing the bigger slice to Cú anyway. He wolfed it down in seconds.

The first time he showed up at her door went much the same way, just a lot more awkward.

It was the day after his wolf came home with her sheep. He'd already knocked on her door to thank her before realizing how stupid that idea was. What was he meant to say?

Hey, uh, thanks for letting me hunt your sheep to feed my pack. My best friend's wife just popped a litter of hungry babies, hehe gotta feed them young am I right? Oh, by the way, I'm the wolf from yesterday, nice to meet you—Yep. No. not gonna work. This was a terrible idea. Stupid, really. He was stupid. Why did he even come here again?

Then she swung open the door, freezing the man in place with his mouth half open.

"Can I help you?" She asked, but before he could even reply, he was greeted by snow. Everywhere. All at once. Down his spine and into his underwear.

Now, he wasn't as susceptible to the cold as the common human, but she did not know that. Before he could even get a word out, he was sitting in front of the fire to dry while she ran to get him something warm to drink.

A change into Arthur's clothes and some hot coffee later, he was being served pie at the dining table to make up for his unexpected snow shower.

"Again, I sincerely apologize for that. My brother and I haven't had the chance to fix the porch roof. We just moved to this old farm last month,” rambled the short Welsh woman as she handed him a hot towel.

After some hesitation and observation on the stranger’s way of dress, she asked, “Did...did you come here for lamb?"

Little did she know, she'd just handed Cú the perfect excuse. Plus, he now knew exactly how to show his gratitude.

"If I fix up yer roof would ya give me a discount?"

Over the next week, Cú would come to the Pendragon residence to make repairs. It wasn’t just the roof that needed patching up.

It turns out she and her brother were alone in the world, cheated out of their inheritance and everything else they owned by their older sister. All that was left to them was this old farm and cottage, which neither had visited since they were kids. Their half-sibling even threw in three truckloads of animals as a joke, since she had all the riches in the world to spend and a special budget for humiliating the two green-eyed blondes.

Still, the twins were educated. Brilliant, even. And though they were clumsy when it came to most household repairs, their experience tending equine stables for their late father translated rather well to animal husbandry. In a month, they had made enough to pay the bills and get them a secondhand laptop and working Wi-fi. The next month saw Arturia getting her own computer.

Half a year down the line, Cú was sure that the Pendragon siblings would move out, but here they stayed, still maintaining their humble farm though it was no longer their only form of income. Neither of them needed the burden of moving back to London, with its ridiculously high cost of living and impossible rent rates. They’d grown fond of the land they actually owned and its peace.

That suited Cú just fine, because he had grown fond of Arturia.

Cú still visited, even after all the repairs had finished. His nephews were always hungry, and while the mutton did not satisfy the little pups’ bloodlust as much as wild game, it made up for the deficit while the children were in human form. But even Arthur knew his bi-monthly purchases were just an excuse.

He was there for the coffees, for the brief moments his fingers would brush hers. He was there for the whiskey, the cheap bottles they shared before the fireplace while she told him everything she could about the city. He was there to make fun of her posh way of speaking, to pull the ribbon from her hair, to bring her fruits and berries and furs and let her read him books.

He was there for her.

Scáthach’s training only increased in intensity as the months passed, and between his day job and being the new alpha, Cú had little time left for himself. But what he could spare, he spent with his favorite person, even if it was just watching her tend her sheep from a distance while he kept foxes out of her territory.

Cú tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, happy to see she didn’t even flinch, but plagued by the thought of his wolf. He was the pack alpha now, and that meant a shitload of other responsibilities that would keep him from her for as long as he held that title.

“That’s all yer charging me, shortie? Nah, can’t be,” Cú resisted, pushing a few more bills across the table. “That’s way too cheap, even if yer sweet on me.”

Pink-faced, Arturia slid the packed meats back across the counter, reached behind her, and procured a carefully wrapped circular dish which she placed in a bag.

“Take it,” she insisted, hooking the bag onto his fingers. “We’ve been ridiculously lucky to not get any wolves and foxes considering how much higher into the mountains we live compared to the rest of the town. There is more than enough left for Arthur and I.”

Cú peeked into the extra bag, catching a glimpse of a familiar crust. God, she was far too kind. He’d reject the offer, but he’d always wanted to bring some shepherd’s pie back to the pack. This was his chance.

“Ya sure?”

“Absolutely,” she confirmed, holding open the front door as Cú made his exit. “This is the least I could do for you, Cú. You have helped make us feel home in this far-off place. I would even say that you are family but—”

“Go out with me,” the werewolf interrupted, shoving all his reservations into his internal dumpster. He didn’t know how yet, but he was gonna make this work. “Come on, I know ya like me, shortie.”

Tiptoeing, Arturia snaked a hand into his hair and pulled him down to her level, planting a small kiss on his cheekbone.

“It is...a little more than ‘like’, I believe,” the woman admitted bashfully, trying to mask her embarrassment by awkwardly sneaking back behind the door. “...Eight tomorrow?”

Cú bit his lip, glad to hear confirmation on what he already knew. She loved him back. She loved him back. God, he better not be looking like a child just handed some candy.

“Nah, this morning weekend. This weekend morning. The morning of this weekend,” he fumbled, rewarded with a short chuckle from her end. “I wanna have a whole day with ya for once, shortie. I’ll make it worth yer time.”

There was a spring in his step as the alpha bounded across the forest that night, carrying the bags carefully with the handles between his teeth.

If only he weren’t so distracted. Then he’d have noticed the salivating spy that watched him leave the abandoned bear den with a fresh pack of meat.

Snow fell heavily across the landscape on Tuesday evening, covering the last of autumn’s colors in a blanket of pure white. After dinner time was always idle for Cú, so he spent it sharing Arturia’s gift with the kids and spinning his phone in his fingers.

Instinct told him a storm was coming, and though it would probably have passed by Saturday, Cú wondered if he should try and reschedule his anticipated date. He wasn’t too worried about Arturia, since Arthur said he’d be coming back up to the cottage tonight, so at least she wouldn’t be alone all through it. Plus, the twins really did have a lot of food in stock. In comparison, he and his pack were the ones less prepared.

His sharp ears perked up as a familiar presence entered the grounds. The alpha’s brow knitted, as the slight smell of blood entered the air, but if the little ones weren’t alarmed, it must not have been such a serious wound.

Diarmuid stepped into the kitchen, still pulling on a wool jacket and shaking the snow off of his dark hair.

“Evening, Alpha,” the handsome man said softly, taking notice of the pie that sat in front of the pups.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, just call me Cú. Yer no less my little bro now than ya were before, Diar,” he corrected, sliding a plate his way. “Try that.”

The amber-eyed man approached the meal like a cat did water: hesitantly and suspiciously. Thankfully, as soon as he had a taste he had about the same reaction as Ferdiad’s kids did. Which was...basically nearly crying tears of joy.

“Where did you say you got this?” Diarmuid asked, snatching up another helping as Cú smirked. He’d not give the answer up that easily.

The alpha’s red eyes landed on his brother’s shoulder, finding a clumsy bandage just sticking out the collar. At once, he herded the beta into a different room, far enough from the pups that they couldn’t hear.

“The hell happened to ya?” Cú demanded, pulling the shirt collar to the side to better gauge the severity of the wound.

“It’s a warning, Sétanta” Scáthach answered for her son, entering the log cabin from the back door. “The rival packs were closing in on the border. I doubt their side of the mountain is as scarce as they make it out to be and yet they have the gall to encroach on ours.”

“Our territory’s guarded. That’s why we moved Fergus, ain’t it? To cover all bases. Den in the center with the pups, Me and Diar in the North, and dad in the South. Fergus’s gang to the west, and we got the town in the east and all wolves know not to mess with the towns,” Cú shot back, unconcerned.

Red eyes much alike to Cú’s observed him with kind care, seeing the wolf pup and alpha both. The new leader was strong, but he was arrogant. In a way, he was a perfect successor, for she knew he could kill her should the need arise. However, too loose he was with laws; too untethered by the rules that kept their kind safe.

“It would be a show of strength to take a mate. To let all know that our new Alpha has his right hand—”

Cú waved his arms dismissively. “The hands I do have are more than enough to drive them off. Ya know that. Now, are we stocking up for the pups or what? The storm ain’t gonna delay, I can smell it.”

22:24 Read

Cú paced the main den like a dog kept in an enclosure for far too long, tossing his half-charged phone while he awaited her message.

Four days. It had been four days since the blizzard started, piling snow on top of snow day after day as if it was trying to beat some arctic record. The log cabin’s ground floor was completely sealed in. They’d been on generator for the last four hours, listening to the weatherman on the radio as he promised for the third time that tonight the storm would finally pass.

Diarmuid was curling up with his nephews, keeping them warm in wolf form as they slept. Cú thanked every god he knew that they went on a hunt before the blizzard hit, else the kids went hungry. He and Diarmuid hadn’t planned to stay at their brother’s but the weather hardly gave them a choice. Their cottage was a lot further off.

22:24 Read

Cracks appeared on the glass as Cú glared into his mobile’s screen, hoping for some sort of change. But no. There sat the same exchange from an hour ago, the same bloody text just very loudly broadcasting to him the worst news of today.

One of our generators broke down. I need to move the power to the barn.

For real? Are you okay, shortie?

Arturia?

Hey, ya can’t just leave me hangin like that.

Arturia?

22:24 Read

“Sétanta, would you just put the bloody phone down?!” Ferdiad screeched, snatching the device right out of the alpha’s hands. “I said we were gonna talk, how the hell are we supposed to talk when yer not even givin’ me the bloody time of day!”

The low growl that escaped through the alpha’s bared teeth shook the cabin like an earthquake.

“What,” Cú barked, grabbing his precious device back while his brother stood his ground. “If this is just another lecture about how Scáthach was right, I should have just fucked with Medb and get it over with, I ain’t hearing another fucking word.”

22:24 Read

“No, you piece of—” Ferdiad inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring with frustration. The older man grabbed his brother by the shoulders, shaking him like a rattle. “Cú. Listen to me.”

As Diarmuid shushed them both, Ferdiad pointed outside, to where nothing could be seen but heavy white ice.

“Do you seriously think Scáthach wants you to mate that pink-haired priss? ‘Course not. She just needs ya to set down roots,” the delta wolf explained, looking over the alpha’s shoulder to his three sons. “You are the strongest of us, Cú, but nothing ties ya to this territory. For all the outsiders know you could be planning to move and make your own pack.”

The younger of them grimaced as Diarmuid nodded from his perch with the pups.

“I ain’t going nowhere,” the new alpha emphasized, shrugging out of his brother’s touch.

“Well they don’t know that! What if this whole time, the only reason they haven’t advanced is cause we’ve been keeping close watch on our borders, hm? Hell, you and Diar have basically been here the entire fucking week, they probably think you’ve bloody moved on. Wouldn’t surprise me in the least if they took advantage of this stupid storm to move into our territory, now that you’re not guarding the north!” Ferdiad argued, baring his fangs at his superior.

22:24 Read.

Cú’s heart stopped, the poor phone in his hands near crunching in his grip. No. The Pendragons didn’t live too far from the town. It was fine. She was fine. Just snowed in.

No werewolf was crazy enough to go near town in their canine form, not even the rival packs. There was too much risk of being found out. Simply no way.

Unless...

22:24 Read.

Unless they didn’t have any food in store. Unless they were looking for some easy pickings. Maybe a couple of sheep that wouldn’t be missed, stolen from a farm just a little out of range of the nearby village.

A farm with a single, vulnerable caretaker, forced to share a heater with her flock.

22:24 Read.

Cú frantically pressed the call button and put the phone to his ear, shushing Ferdiad before the delta could return to making his arguments. Three rings later and the line cut. He tried again, heart dropping like deadweight when it gave the same result.

His footsteps became panicked as he walked round in circles, scrolling upward to a contact that was here only for emergencies.

“Arthur,” Cú said through the phone, hearing the familiar voice of his blonde friend coming through the line. “‘S Arturia there with ya?”

Suddenly a quiet bang resounded throughout the room. A gunshot, deafened by distance and snow. Any false sense of security Cú still had shattered with the sound.

“The hell?” Ferdiad exclaimed, rushing towards his children to comfort them. “There can’t be any humans crazy enough to hunt in that storm.”

The alpha was no longer around to hear him.

Arturia never held any hate for her half-sister. Not even when she banned her and her twin to Ireland with nothing left to their name. Despite everything, Arturia thought her punishment was not too cruel, for she still had Arthur. She still had a degree under her belt, and in a way, Morgan had cast her far away from a destiny she didn’t even want to fulfil. Arthur never wanted to take over the mining company and neither did she.

The first few weeks were difficult, but they learned to live on their own. They made a humble world for themselves that wasn’t tied to their prestigious last name. It was simple. But it was good.

She’d admit it got a little lonely with just the two of them around, but...then there was Cú. Cú, who helped them fix up the house, who came bringing drinks or food they could all share by the fire. Cú, who helped them get set up at the market, who got them their regular buyers and still made himself a frequent customer. Cú, who made up excuses just to see her, who scorned the couch to lie down on her lap while she read.

The cabin was always a little warmer when he was around. It was home when he was around.

She should have asked him out sooner.

The wolves came crashing through the windows, raining thick glass all over her flock. There were seven of them. All massive beasts with fur of brown and grey, glowing eyes and bared fangs. In their view, she may as well have been just another sheep, helpless in the face of the predator.

The air was a cacophony of distressed bleating, panicked hooves and growls as the sheep tried their best to escape their fate. Amidst it were her own hoarse screams as a brown beast sank its fangs into her arms, her frantic kicks to its belly doing nothing to throw the large beast off. Desperate green eyes searched the floor for her gun, which sat useless under her first attacker, a chestnut wolf that had ignored smaller prey and gone straight for her.

Her own blood dripped down onto her cheeks as the wolf above her crushed her limbs between its teeth. Arturia’s eyes prickled with tears as fresh cries escaped her lips, grieving not from the pain but for all she was going to lose. So soon, she had to say goodbye to her new life, her brother, to any chance she ever had at a happy ending.

The woman felt her predator’s claw stomp onto her throat, stifling her screams as its teeth dug into her shoulder. Salt fell freely from her eyes as the beast tore through the muscle. Was this how she was going to die? Cold and alone amongst the carcasses of her flock? Was this how Arthur would find her when the blizzard did subside, torn to pieces and left scattered all over the barn floor?

Arturia shut her eyes, unwilling to let her last sight be that of her killer. Instead, she thought of Arthur, hoping someone would be there for him through it all. She thought of Cú, she thought of the lovely blue dress she was supposed to wear when she finally went out with him. She’d been waiting for the day to finally wear it. She knew he loved the color blue.

As her lungs began to burn for air, her final thought was a prayer to a God she didn’t know she still believed in. If she were to die today, then let it be the last pain her two favorite boys would ever experience—

Suddenly, frigid oxygen entered her lungs as her attacker was tackled off of her, leaving Arturia hacking and coughing as she gasped for breath. She sat up dizzily, gripping her injured shoulder with bleeding arms as she tried to get her bearings.

The pack had abandoned the few sheep that were left, hounding instead the new arrival: a wolf easily larger than her from head to tail, with grey fur that glistened in the little light. Its glowing red eyes seemed aflame with rage as it sank its teeth into her attacker’s throat and snapped its neck like a toothpick, showering all the surrounding dogs with their leader’s blood. Even then, the grey wolf did not stop, jumping at the next canine and carrying out its execution.

The woman limped to the exit as fast as she could, bracing herself against the biting cold as she made her way back to the cabin. Behind her, the barking continued as wolf fought against wolf, the red-eyed one beating off the remaining four while the frightened sheep ran wild with fear.

Arturia slammed the cabin door closed behind her, bolting every lock there was with frostbitten fingers before sneaking a glance back into the barn through the window. There was barely anything to make out amidst the pouring snow and the painful throbbing in her head, but all she knew was that somehow...the newcomer was winning.

She didn’t know what kind of divine intervention must have occurred for that wolf to come save her, but...all it did was buy her a little time. Even if she was safe from predators in the cabin, the freezing cold would take her before morning. Maybe she could start a fire, but she’d lost so much blood, she could barely even stand.

After much struggle to ignite the tinder, the injured woman slumped onto the rug before the fireplace, taking comfort in the hearth’s warmth as the blizzard raged on outside.

A loud crash brought her attention behind her, to where stood the red eyed wolf, blood staining the grey fur on his shoulder. Two emotions gripped her heart at the same time: fear and recognition. As the beast stalked its way toward her, she finally understood why he looked so familiar.

It was the young wolf from last year, the one who sat right outside her fence, neither coming in to attack her flock, nor fleeing at the sight of her. She’d always wondered what became of him after he ran off with a couple of her sheep. He had a lot more weight on him compared to back then, enough that she knew it was hopeless to try fighting him off. If he’d somehow defeated the entire pack in the barn, an injured human like herself didn’t stand a chance.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” she croaked, her shattered vocal chords barely able to keep up. “Please just make it quick.”

Almost as if he could understand her, the wolf whimpered and flattened his ears against his head, lowering himself as he approached.

For the second time that night, Arturia shut her eyes as the wolf caged her broken, shivering figure to the floor. She stiffened, anticipating another bite as he brought his head closer.

Then she felt a warm tongue lick her cheek.

Arturia’s eyes snapped open in surprise, locking with increasingly familiar ruby irises. The wolf lay its head on her chest, gently resting on top of her as it whimpered. Suddenly, it began to whine, jerking back and forth as its body contorted itself into a different shape. One that was smaller, one that hadn’t a silver coat of fur, one that no longer crushed her underneath its weight.

Soon it wasn’t a wolf at all that Arturia held in her arms, but a man. Large hands that she recognized traveled up to her cheeks, his thumbs stroking away her tears. Her heart warred with itself, overtaken by pain, relief, fear, security. But all of that could wait.

Cú leaned forward til he was kissing her, molding his mouth into hers til he had her lips memorized.

“Cú,” Arturia whispered, when they separated to breathe, her injured arms wearily looping around his neck. “You’re…”

“Sorry,” The man shushed her with another deep kiss, enveloping her shivering figure into his embrace. “I didn’t wanna tell you like this, but I have no choice. I’m—”

“The wolf from last winter,” she interrupted, her mind struggling to put together the pieces. “The…wolf who came to save me. You were here with me this whole tim—mmh”

The man’s fingers snaked behind her head, supporting her as tasted her mouth once more.

“Ya saved me first.”

There was a desperation in the way that he moved, the way he touched her cold skin. He didn’t want it to be like this. He wished their first kiss would have been somewhere warm. He wanted to take her out to the lake, hold her hand…not drag her into his world of hunt-or-be-hunted.

Cú pressed his lips to her neck, regretting the multitude of wounds she sustained there. If only he were here earlier. If only he were faster. This would never have happened if wasn’t so damn careless.

The werewolf pulled down her scarf and jacket, exposing the deep wounds the rival pack leader had left at the junction of her shoulder and all over her arms.

They bit her.

Cú pursed his lips, placing a few more kisses to her temple. He hoped it would be enough. He hoped she would understand his feelings for her. He hoped she would forgive him.

“Let’s get ya patched up, shortie, okay?”

Cú borrowed some of Arthur’s clothes for the second time, leaving her momentarily to redirect the power back to the cottage instead of the barn. There were nothing but carcasses to warm over there now. After that, he no longer left her side, nursing her wounds the best that he could and keeping her close to share his body heat.

“You’re gonna turn,” Cú said seriously, hugging the one person he loved more than anything to his chest. Werewolf saliva was powerful, and so their kind never endeavored to sink their teeth into humans unless they were sure to kill the target or intentionally make them part of their pack.

“How soon?” Arturia answered back, turning to look up at her saviour. All the fear in her eyes had disappeared, replaced with melancholy and trust. Of course she was upset. Creatures of his world had just gone and stolen her new life away.

“The next full moon,” Cú answered regretfully, “Tomorrow night.”

Cú brushed her bangs out of her face, letting his ruby eyes clash with her emeralds. “Ya scared?”

The man didn’t even know why he was asking. But what were you supposed to say to someone who was just dragged into a hidden world she knew nothing about? How was he supposed to tell her she’d be riddled with bloodlust for the rest of her life, that she’d crave the hunt, that she’d yearn for the night? How was he supposed to tell her she had to give up the one family she had left to keep him away from the life of a hunter?

“Should I be?” Arturia answered, deceptively calm. No doubt, she was thinking of the heavy price she had to pay for surviving.

Cú knew Scáthach was coming. He could feel it. As soon as this bloody storm let up, the she-wolf would put her nose to the air, track him down to this cottage, and put down the rival pack’s unintentional new member before she even had the chance to morph.

Not if he could help it.

“Ya said l was like family to you, Arturia, did ya mean it?” he asked, his heart racing like crazy. His favorite person nodded into his chest, fiddling with his fingers and palm.

“Then...d’ya wanna be that to me, forever though?” he stuttered out, suddenly losing all manner of confidence.

Arturia got up to face him. “How do you mean?”

“Damn yer really gonna let me get into the specifics, huh? Right,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head despite himself. “Look, for us, there’s just one. One mate, for the rest of our lives. You just feel this...bond with them, ya know? Strong enough ya can’t bear to be without them. If ya let me, I want you to be that for me."

"Cú, are you asking me to wed you?" she asked back, confusion settling in the crease between her brows. "But we haven't even gone out yet—"

"Ya were gonna marry me eventually," he shot back, flicking the hair outta her face. "I'm quite the husband material, dontcha think? I bring ya food, I eat your pie—my family likes them by the way—I'm handsome as fuck, not ta mention, charming, what’s the harm in speeding things up a lil’?"

The werewolf grinned at her, trying to cover up how bloody nervous he actually felt.

“And also my pack won’t kill ya. Cause you know, technically ya belong to the rival pack, because they’re the ones that bit ya. But also yer all that’s left in that pack, after tonight and…” he paused, cupping her face with his hands, “I'll still court you, 'Turia. I want to. I'll give ya a good life. Swear.”

Arturia’s lips quirked upward for a second, knowing how crazy adamant Cú could be with following promises.

"Alright,” she confirmed, accepting his kiss. “I just...I worry about Arthur."

"So you finally show up, hm? Disappear for a while, why don't you? Doesn't matter whether or not the rival pack comes to—"

Scáthach inhaled, sniffing her grey wolf pup as she circled him. Something had changed about her son, she could feel it.

"There is no rival pack," Cú answered, grinning like a madman. “Only two new additions to ours.”

"What?"

“Last winter, it stormed just like this, didn’t it? No game, not even the smallest of hares. We were considering crossing over to the other side of the mountain, yeah?” Cú asked back, eagerly goading out the she-wolf’s response. Scáthach stared at him intensely, her red eyes glowing in the light of the full moon.

“You came back with sheep—”

The grey wolf nodded its head in a near-human fashion.”They were gifts. From them.”

Cú yipped, calling for the two concealed wolves to come into the den.

One was large and long, with fur as black as the bark of trees. He came out of the woods like a moving shadow, paws of coal shuffling through the snow. Even Scáthach, who was a midnight color herself, thought she was looking straight into a beautiful void.

The second wolf was smaller. She had a pelt of pure shining white, purer even than fresh snowfall. If not for the black nose that nuzzled into their alpha as she came close, she would be completely missable in their landscape of ice.Though of shorter stature, she strode like a king. Scáthach hadn’t a doubt that if this newcomer were born a wolf, she’d be an alpha herself without question.

The two newcomers stared at the she-wolf with matching emerald eyes, each set of orbs sparkling with the colors of the aurora. Siblings. Strong ones. But any wolf could tell these two were not born with beast’s blood like the rest of them, their footsteps were too unnatural. Too clumsy. They were made beasts, and by their scent it had been the doing of the rival pack.

As her son pressed his snout to the white wolf’s nose, several things finally clicked into place. Cú had gone and done what she’d been pestering him to do for the last few months and had eliminated the pack that had been encroaching on their territory in one fell swoop.

Cú had chosen his mate: a human convert who’d inherited their rivals’ land the day she was bitten. A human who they just so happened to owe a great debt for getting them through last year’s winter.

As Cú’s beastly eyes stared her down, Scáthach had to admit... her bratty pup finally had her at a total loss. She couldn’t be mad about anything, couldn’t even nitpick at the tiny size of his chosen queen or her tar-coat brother. Gosh, Fionn was gonna get a lotta kicks outta this.

“Names,” the she-wolf demanded, circling the twins while Cú gave her a shit-eating grin. Then, she turned, looking back just once to signal for them to follow.

Side by side, the new wolves and the alpha made their way into the central den. Arthur was immediately swarmed by Cú’s brothers. Arturia, by Ferdiad’s pups.

Later, when all had settled back into human skin and a fresh change of clothes, Cú looked about his pack. Fergus and Medb had come to visit, with all sorts of food in tow. Diarmuid excitedly showed Arthur around the wolf den while Fionn and Scathach kept to their own corner. Ferdiad and his litter sat right in front of the brick oven, eagerly awaiting the shepherd’s pie the twins had prepared.

The alpha leaned down, resting his cheek atop Arturia’s blonde head.

“We never did get to go on that date,” she whispered lightheartedly, leaning her head onto his chest. “I even had a dress prepared.”

“Mmmmm that so?” Cú shot back, grinning, “I just think since we are “mated” we really ought to get to mating if ya know what I—”

Arturia’s palm snapped onto his lips before he could complete the thought. Suddenly, they were wrestling each other to the floor, the older wolf chuckling like a madman all the while.

“Kidding—ooofghmhm--kidding, Arturia, I’m kidding, jeez,” he managed to get out, placating his blushing mate as he grabbed onto her hands. The Welsh woman panted, from her seat atop him, her green eyes looking everywhere else but into his red orbs.

“Eight tomorrow?” Arturia asked, though she knew full well Cú was coming home with her that day.

Not even caring about the teasing whoops resounding through the wolf den, Cú pulled his mate down for another hug.

“Yeah. I’d like that, shortie.”

[caslikescoffeeandfreckles]

#SpnStayHome 04/13 prompt: Gentleman

@bend-me-shape-me @helianthus21 @pray4jensen pls except my late trash i’m sorry

now available on A03

Dean hears the front door slam again and sighs, body moving out into the living room before he can even think about it.

There he finds Castiel slumped against the door, fists clenched but face deprived of any little fight he had left.

“Didn’t go well, I take it?” Dean asks grimly.

Cas doesn’t even open his eyes.

Dean edges toward the couch, letting Cas have his space and choice to talk. “I’m sorry, man.”

It takes a while, but Dean waits, knees pulled to his chest, toes wiggling in his socks with the urge to run over and hug Cas close, stroke his hair, kiss his lips. Tell him that Dean is here for him, in any way Cas will have him.

Which is exactly why he stays put.

“It’s like I’m cursed,” Cas finally whispers. When Dean looks up, Cas’s eyes are finally open and the disappointment is dark blue and heavy.

“It’s not you, Cas,” Dean tells him for the thousandth time. “You just... keep dating jerks.”

Cas laughs but there’s no humor. “Pretty sure that still makes me the problem. I just... I’m so tired of trying.”

Dean would like to tell him that he doesn’t have to try. But that would be unwelcome and not to mention completely inappropriate given the situation.

It’s not that Dean has necessarily tried to hide his feelings for Cas over the years. In fact, he’s been more obvious about his crush on his roommate than he’s ever been with any former partners. Maybe he hasn’t said it in so many words but... actions speak louder right?

Which left Dean with just two possibilities: either Cas was an oblivious idiot or not interested.

And Cas is anything but an idiot.

The quiet rejection hurt more than Dean would ever let on. But Cas never allowed it to affect their friendship, never indicated that he was uncomfortable with Dean’s gestures. Dean still tried to dial it back and challenged himself to be the best friend Cas deserved even if that meant listening to him chatter about the guys he was talking to and picking up the pieces after the guys blew everything apart.

“Or maybe this is what I deserve...”

Dean’s head whips up when Cas speaks again, mostly to himself. “What?”

Cas shrugs. “I don’t know, I just... I’m starting to think maybe this is what dating is like. Maybe I have just have too high standards or I’m being unrealistic.”

Dean shakes his head as Cas talks but Cas isn’t looking, into act he’s already peeling himself off the door and heading to his room, head still bowed and shoulders down.

He looks so sad and defeated and Dean wants to argue but bites his tongue.

He hears Cas’s door click shut and closes his own eyes.

In no world should someone as amazing as Cas leave a bad date feeling that it’s what he deserves...

Cas has to know that. He deserves the best partner, the best dates, the best kind of love story.

And maybe Dean isn’t the one he wants that love story with. But Dean can at least open the book for him.

The next Saturday, Dean makes up an excuse for a celebratory dinner and tells Cas to get cleaned up.

He leads Cas to the impala, hustling to open the door for him which Cas raises an eyebrow at. Dean just smiles and carefully shuts the door once Cas is safely inside.

“Pick something,” he says, gesturing to the radio.

“You’re letting me pick the music?” Cas asks and the incredulity is not lost.

“I’m feeling generous.”

“But what happened to driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole?” His voice changes as he quotes Dean to himself and laughs.

Dean bites a grin and keeps both hands on the wheel. “Just pick something good before I change my mind.”

The restaurant isn’t a super fancy place but it’s a grade above the kind of dives Dean usually patrons. He hadn’t wanted something so fancy that he and Cas felt uncomfortable, but also not a place where a brawl was likely to break out at any moment.

He isn’t able to get out before Cas opens his own door but he does manage to hold the restaurant door for him and even allows a brief touch to Cas’s lower back as he passes. Cas doesn’t flinch or frown or look at him weird. In fact, he may not have noticed at all.

They get an intimate little table by the windows and Dean holds Cas’s chair out for him.

Cas does frown now, looking at Dean like he’s lost his mind or grown a second a head. “What are you doing?”

“Holding out your chair for you,” Dean responds like it’s normal.

Hesitantly, Cas steps closer and lowers himself into the seat as Dean pushes him in. “What a gentleman,” Dean hears him rumble, a soft tone of amusement in his voice.

Dean can’t help a grin as he claims the seat opposite of Cas and shrugs. “Mary Winchester wouldn’t have raised anything less.”

A knowing grin steals across Cas’s lips. “No, she wouldn’t.”

They have an excellent dinner. Cas picks something from the wine list and Dean goes with it, not understanding any of the words Cas uses to describe the flavor but enjoying it all the same. Their food is delicious and even though Dean could happily wolf down every bite, he offers some to Cas, raising his fork to Cas’s lips and stomach stirring with wild butterflies when Cas opens his mouth to accept. Cas looks a little red for a few minutes after that, which pleases Dean to his toes.

“Don’t forget your leave room for dessert,” Dean says when Cas leans back against his chair.

“Dessert?” Cas repeats. “What was it we’re celebrating, again?”

Dean shrugs. “Doesn’t really matter why. Just matters that we’re together, right?”

When Cas doesn’t respond right away, Dean feels hot fear rush through him. Maybe he went a little too far, veering into romantic side of things. Sure, he wants to show Cas what a good date can be like, what it’s like to be properly wooed and romanced. But that doesn’t change the fact that Cas only wants him as a friend.

“Right,” Cas says at long last, his voice soft and quiet again. “Together.”

They order their dessert and once again Dean finds himself spoon feeding Cas a taste of his chocolate pie. But this time, there are no nervous butterflies. This time, it’s all heat. A searing, thick heat that fills his lower half and runs down his skin, tight, as Cas’s eyes seem to glaze over with something Dean’s never seen before, something desperate and primal and eager as his pink lips separate and Dean catches just the faintest glimpse of his tongue before he licks the treat into his mouth.

Dean’s pretty sure he’s the one sitting there like a bright red tomato after that.

When all is finished and the dishes are clear, the waiter leaves a single bill on the table.

“Oh, we’ll need two checks,” Cas starts.

But Dean is already sliding his card into the folder. “This is fine,” he says and hands it back to the waiter.

The admonishment is loud and clear and Cas says Dean’s name. “You’re the one we’re supposed to be celebrating tonight. If anyone should be paying, its me.”

“Maybe next time,” Dean promises and prays there will be a next time. If not here, then in the next life or in some alternate universe where Cas feels the same and goes on real dates with Dean where they can share bites of food without feeling nervous and bicker over the bill knowing it doesn’t matter.

Cas leans back, eyes scanning Dean suspiciously before he grins. “I feel like we’re on a date almost,” he says and laughs. Like it’s the craziest idea in the world. Impossible.

The laugh hurts but Dean swallows it down and smiles. “It can be whatever you want it to be.”

Cas’s smile vanishes and Dean could slap himself. Definitely too far.

Luckily, the waiter returns then. Dean busies himself signing the receipt and leaving a generous tip.

“Have a lovely evening, gentlemen,” their waiter says. “We hope to see you again.”

Dean doesn’t let his nerves ruin his plan as he and Cas stand and he gestures for Cas to walk ahead. He still holds the door for Cas and opens the car door for him, all the while ignoring the strange look on Cas’s face.

Cas doesn’t bother with music on the drive home and Dean is too scared to let his hands stray from the wheel.

He crossed a line somewhere, he knows — can sense it. Maybe this idea hadn’t been the best or the most mature. He’d just wanted to show Cas what he was deserving of, how he should expect to be treated when he granted someone his time and attention.

The idea of Cas settling for less or internalizing all of his romantic mishaps as his fault is just not acceptable in Dean’s book. The man sitting next to him is the closest thing to perfection Dean has ever known and deserves nothing bht the best, better than everyone. Better than Dean.

When they arrive home, Cas still isn’t speaking but he also doesn’t move to get out. Dean wants to ask if he’s okay, if Dean did something wrong. But truthfully, he’s too scared to know the answer.

So he gets out and goes to open Cas’s door. Cas still takes a moment before he gets out and he doesn’t look at Dean.

They walk up to their apartment in silence and Dean unlocks the door with shaking fingers.

Cas still isn’t speaking and Dean is feeling sicker and sicker by the second. It’s time to end this and pretend this night never happened.

So with a dramatic yawn, Dean starts tugging off his suit jacket and makes a beeline for his room. “Well, good night, Cas,” he says over his shoulder, too afraid to look back. “Thanks for coming with me. I’ll talk to you-”

“Dean,” Cas interrupts.

Dean freezes, turning around but not looking directly at Cas. “Uh, yeah?”

He can’t see the expression on Cas’s face, can only see the shadow of his hand moving against his thigh as he nervously grapples with the material. Dean definitely fucked this up.

“Was tonight... a date?”

Dean doesn’t like lying to Cas and normally an opening like this is what he dreams of. But after the way Cas has been acting since he joked about it only feeling like a date, Dean almost can’t find the courage to take it. Almost because, even though he’s terrified, there’s still that little bit of logic left that says at least if he’s honest now and gets the answer he anticipates he’ll finally be free to move on.

And maybe that’s what Cas truly needs. Not some desperate idiot trying to show him a good time, but a true friend with no ulterior motives.

“Uh, I mean, kind of,” Dean says at last. “But, like, it doesn’t have to be. I’m sorry if I made things weird. I wasn’t trying to. I just...” He tries to think of the best way to explain himself but there’s really now way to spin it where he doesn’t look like a pathetic creep. “Look, I’m sorry, Cas. I wasn’t trying to trick you or make your uncomfortable or anything. I just wanted to show you a good time after what happened last weekend.”

“By taking me on a date without telling me?”

Dean winces, because damn. This is a lot worse than he thought. “Yeah, I realize how fucked up that was now. I guess when you said that you deserved all that bad stuff that kept happening to you, I wanted to prove you wrong?” There’s a hurricane of nerves tearing through Dean’s body and he really can’t tell if he’s going to be sick or have a heart attack. “But tricking you into a date was wrong. I’m sorry.”

Dean has the decency to at least look Cas in the eyes when he apologizes and he’s a little shocked to not find disgust or burning hatred in his best friend’s eyes. In fact, if Dean didn’t know any better he’d say Cas looks confused and maybe... nervous? Of what, Dean can’t imagine.

“Why...” Cas begins, slow and soft. “Why did you think you had to trick me into a date?”

Dean’s face pinches, remembering all the rejections at once. “Because you’ve never said yes before?” 

Cas’s eyes widen. “To a date?”

Dean just nods.

“But when did you ask me out?”

A slimy sort of feeling settles in Dean’s gut, feeling suspiciously like doubt. But... that can’t be right. “I can’t tell if you’re messing with me...” 

“Messing with you?” Cas echoes. Before Dean can even turn around, there’s a hand gripping his wrist and holding him in place. Cas’s eyes have bloomed into something wild and desperate, like the look he had when Dean was feeding him at dinner. “Dean, I feel like we’re not having the same conversation here. You’ve never asked me out because that is certainly not something I would forget and there is no chance in hell I would have said no once let alone multiple times.”

Dean stares, trying to understand if Cas is lying or if Dean has really been that big of an idiot this entire time. “I used to ask you out all the time!” he finally shouts. “I-I-I asked you out to dinner like a month after we moved in together. I asked you out to see that band you like when they were in town! I tried to take you bowling! I invite you to the movies all the time but you always say no! I even tried to kiss you at that Halloween party last fall and you almost pushed me off the couch!” That was when Dean had finally given up. Message received loud and clear. 

Realization brightens Cas’s eyes before the shock sets in. “I thought you were just drunk!” Cas exclaims. “And I didn’t want to kiss you while you were intoxicated. Wait, you mean you bought those concert tickets as a date?” Something close to horror crosses Cas’s face. “Oh god, and I took-”

“Balthazar,” Dean mumbles. “Don’t remind me.”

“Oh, Dean,” Cas says and there’s a regret in his voice that Dean has never heard before. “I had no idea.”

Dean doesn’t know what to say. Cas looks like he’s just had a life-changing revelation and Dean feels like he’s treading muddy water, an ocean of bad memories and self-deprecating thoughts without even a light to guide him. 

Because Cas is saying that he never knew. That all those times Dean thought he was being obvious and brave, Cas was completely clueless. That Cas hasn’t been rejecting Dean all this time. He never knew Dean was interested. And it kind of sounds like... Cas has been interested. 

“Dean?” Fingers snap in his face and Dean blinks back to reality to find Cas staring at him, eyes a little less wild and more worried. They soften when Dean focuses. “You’re thinking too hard,” Cas says.

“I’m confused,” Dean admits slowly. 

He doesn’t recognize the face Cas is making now but it makes him feel hot and like he wants to jump out of his skin but also freeze this moment in time forever so he never has to see anything else ever again. It makes him feel like he’s choking but also breathing properly for the first time in his life. Like they’re the only two left in the entire universe but also like they are the universe at the same time? So unthinkably big but small, everything and nothing. Loved. So incredibly, poetically loved.

“I think I can get you caught up,” Cas whispers.

Before Dean can think, he feels soft lips press into his. 

There are no fireworks because those would have been loud and distracting for a moment as precious as this. It’s a quiet, private sort of explosion between them, a galaxy being born and filling with more and more stars with every passing second. 

Dean doesn’t no how long they stay suspended in space, doesn’t really care. He knows that when they separate, he feels different. Like a different person. Like his body isn’t fully his own anymore. And he loves it. 

“I could do that forever,” Cas breathes against his lips because he didn’t go far. Hopefully never will.

“Me too.”

He feels Cas smile and he tingles with it. 

“Then I think we should go to bed,” Cas says, then pauses, eyes frowning. “Wait. Are we going too fast?”

Dean can’t help but laugh. “Well I don’t know what you were expecting but, for the record, I don’t put out on the first date. I’m a gentleman, remember?”

Cas’s laugh is warm air against Dean’s chin. He doesn’t respond and the silence is not awkward or anxious. It feels just as precious as their first kiss, in fact, just as right and comfortable. There’s a permission in that moment, to study one another and to learn through touch and taste.

Dean longs to kiss Cas’s jaw and so he does. Keeps kissing until he reaches Cas’s ear and nibbles on the lobe. Feels the way Cas shivers against him and knows he’ll never be able to deny Cas a thing.

He whispers, “But for you I’ll make an exception.” 

He thinks Cas will always be the exception. And he knows somehow, without being told, that he’ll always be Cas’s.

[coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe]

Bloody, Beaten, Bruised or Maximum Effort

Quick Tag List: @kuruumiya @spacelizardtrashboys @enigmaticandunstable @nattinngrst @amyofaquitaine

This passage contains potentially: scenes of one (or more) characters swearing, blood, self-harm (unintentional) and scenes of a violent nature. whump content and potential tear-jerking moments.

Summary: In this 'chapter' Kirby has her first fight in New Jersey, and stay in New Jersey for a week, leading to some heavy whump content by a certain someone.

Kirby's POV:

Standard match, one on one with a ten minute time limit. Not much for a debut but it's made into a big deal upon learning the opponents were male and female and not the standard male on male.

Jobber VS Newcomer.

Andrew Strong VS Kirby 'Gluttony' Lucifarian.

The bell rings and the fight starts.

"Strong throws the first punch and misses."

"The Ogress capitalises and hits him with a Feeding Frenzy."

"Strong is backed into the turnbuckle but the Ogress continues her attack."

"The referee is forced to separate them and Strong gets The Ogress in a lock-up."

"A swift knee to the stomach and Strong is staggered."

"The Ogress hits Strong with the Organ Grinder and it looks like it's all over."

"She covers Strong and … one … two … three. She's done it! The Ogress has won!"

Walking back to the locker room, I caught a glimpse of Moolah as she sneers at me and I shrug her off, focusing on getting into some clean clothes and going back to the hotel. I change and walk out of the dressing room with my bag slung over my shoulder.

"Good work out there, Kirby."

I recognise the voice and turn to see André, "Thank you, Drey."

"Moolah, doesn't seem to like you girls."

"We're stealing the hag's time in the sun. She always hates people who do that, even if she brings them in. I'll see you soon Drey."

"See you soon, Kirby."

I start walking back to the hotel when I start hearing a voice behind me, gradually getting closer.

"Hey, Miss, I think you dropped this." A distinctly masculine voice called out.

I turned around to see what the person wanted. To my surprise they had picked up my wallet, "Huh, I didn't feel it fall out of my pocket, thank you."

The man handed it to me before introducing himself, "Paul Orndorff. I saw your match earlier, you're fast for a giant, tough too."

"Thank you, Mr Orndorff."

He looked over his shoulder, "Oh, well, I have to go, Piper's waiting for me."

"Uh well, bye Mr Orndorff."

He left without another word and I unzipped my bag slightly to place my wallet inside, zipping it back up and continuing back to the hotel. I spent the night in a cramped hotel room and went to the gym the next morning.

Setting myself up at a heavy bag and practicing as per usual, no interruptions, no one else near by to talk to.

It was as if my mind just drifted away and I went into this mental fog, no gloves on but punching as if I did, breaking through the skin on my knuckles and only stopping after I noticed smears of blood on the heavy bag.

I wiped it down and bandaged my knuckles before moving on to doing push ups, lunges, squats and other exercises that wouldn't leave me covered in blood.

I was alone for the rest of the day, so I ordered some pizza (simple, pepperoni) and relaxed in the hotel, I pulled out a sketch book from my suitcase and began sketching.

I didn't plan on sketching anything too important so I just went with what was on my mind, which happened to be Roddy, Jeez it's like I'm becoming emotionally attached to this idiot.

When I see him next I'll give him the drawing if I have it with me. I close the sketchbook and go back to the gym for around an hour, before coming back to the hotel and getting some rest.

I woke up the next morning (January 9th) and had a day much the same as the last, got up, did my morning routine, went to the gym, came back, ordered Chinese food and started drawing. It was just a shitty little thing, but once again, the Rowdy one came to mind.

What is it with Scottish men and me, is it because I'm a quarter Scottish, is it maybe because I believe in the folk tales and stories of old, of knights on white steeds, saving fair maidens and living happily ever after, while the monsters they kill or maim lie in a pool of their own blood and wish they could've had a different life?

I have no idea, and the idea of my own mind comparing me with those monsters makes me regret ever reading those stories while growing up, rather I should have stuck my head into scientific textbooks instead of tales of heroism and fantastical ghouls, then I would have never become and wrestler or met the amazing people in my life.

I look back down at the paper and decide to let Roddy have two final full page drawings on the other side of the sketches I've already drawn of him, I add in a small note on the page under a picture of Roddy that Sam had found.

The more I looked at the drawings and that lone picture, the more I realised the small details of Roddy's features, the strong jaw with a cleft chin, his hazel eyes? or are they dark blue? either way they intrigue me. And that musculature, Roddy's not slim but not a big man either, he's at that almost perfect weight to body fat ratio. Good lord, listen to me calling … Piper, Roddy, Him, perfect. I think I want to be sick, just to be rid of those thoughts.

Right as I run into the small bathroom I hear a commotion in the hallway and someone being thrown or more accurately, hurled into the other side of the bathroom wall. I take a deep breath, re-fix my mask into it's usual position and dart out into the corridor, right as the commotion ends.

The obvious victim of the bout was on the floor face down with a long, not to deep cut down the back of their left leg and was breathing heavily when I reached them.

"Woah, hey, hey buddy." I whispered to them in an effort to calm them.

"Kirby?"

FUCK

…

That Glaswegian accent, fuck, He's not even supposed to be in town, or is he?

"Piper?!" I whisper-yelled, more to myself than to him.

"Hey…" his voice trailed off, I heaved him over my shoulder and went back into my hotel room, tossing him down on the only bed and grabbing his left foot, reaching over to my suitcase and getting my personal first aid kit, nothing too fancy, some bandages, plasters, the bare essentials. I cleaned the cut and bandaged it, taping the bandage in place.

I glanced up from Roddy's leg and saw that he had passed out, "Shit." I muttered to myself, louder than I thought and his eyes flickered open.

"Kirby? Is that you?" His voice weak but still understandable.

I stood there, frozen to the spot, unable to move, I wanted to cry as I realised how badly he had been beaten up, his eyebrow cut, coming close to his eye, his hairline a mix of matted brown hair and blood that was starting to coagulate and then I started to notice more things wrong with Roddy's visage.

His shirt (a Piper classic, yellow with a wild cat graphic) was torn in several places, showing bruises and nicks in his flesh. His kilt, however, was fully intact, including his belt and sporran, though all of it was scuffed with little scratches, but no cuts.

"Kirby? Kirby talk to me, please?" He spoke so carefully and it broke me.

I dropped to my knees, weeping, and Roddy shot to his feet, before dropping down on his left side and leaning on the bed, getting only a couple of steps closer to me.

"Kirby, are you okay?"

"Roddy, look at ya," I took a deep breath in, "How can you be so beat up and worried about me? How is that possible?"

"Kirby? look at ya, you're crying over me? I thought you didn't care about me that much?"

I wiped the tears from my face and got Roddy back on the bed.

"Stay there, Piper."

"Oh, feisty."

"Roddy! Stay on the bed and don't move."

"Yes Ma'am."

I trudged into the bathroom and ran a long cold shower, and I heard him move off the bed before swearing and sitting back on the bed.

"I thought I said, DON'T MOVE Roddy!"

"Alright, alright. … feisty"

After the shower, I dressed in the bathroom after drying myself off and exited the room. I instantly noticed a sleeping Piper.

"I guess I'll sleep on the floor then."

"C'mere." He lazily waved his arm to try and beckon me over.

"No, Roddy, get some rest."

"Come here and get in the bed." He rolled over and picked up the duvet, lackadaisically blowing a joking kiss in my direction.

"Jesus, Roddy, fine."

I climbed into the bed and felt Roddy's arms curl around my waist and his face between my shoulder blades.

"Rod, get off."

"Wha'?"

"Get off of me."

"Why?"

"Aren't you married, get off."

"if I was married, there would be a ring on my finger," He waved his left hand in front of my face, "No ring, no wife."

"Oh. Still, get off."

"Now, would that be 'get off' in the, leave me alone, way or the 'get off' in the, I love you take me now, way." The latter a clear joke but it annoyed me even more.

"Leave me alone, Roddy."

He slid his arms off and rolled to face the other way.

"Small bed, Kirby."

"I wasn't expecting company, Piper."

"Your tattoos are nice."

"Sleep, Piper."

"I'm just saying."

"Roddy, you are injured, sleep."

"I looked through your sketchbook earlier, y'know, when you were in the shower, just flicked through it, and wow, you're a great artist."

"For the love of God, Roddy! would you please just get some sleep."

"Alright!, alright. No need to yell."

"One more word and I'm chucking you out the nearest window."

We both fell silent and managed to get some sleep, it wasn't until sunrise that either one of us awoke. As I stirred from my slumber I was face to face with the Scottish idiot. I yelped and, without realising his legs were intertwined with mine, fell off the bed with him falling on top of me, waking Roddy up in the process.

"Oh, well, morning sweetheart, did I wake ya."

"Rod, get ya damn 'Loch Ness Monster' away from me."

Rod's cheeks turned pink and he quickly looked down between our bodies before sheepishly standing up and hurrying to the bathroom, I took the chance to change into a graphic tee and some black jeans, not noticing that Piper had left the bathroom door wide open, until I heard his voice.

"Woah, so uh, all of you is bigger than normal?"

I yelped and threw one of my shirts at his face, before realising that I had thrown the shirt I was planning on wearing at him, "Wait, Roddy, I need that shirt."

He laughed before handing me back my shirt, "Uh, thank you … for …saving me last night."

"Were you even supposed to be in town?"

"Well no, but I …" He trailed off

"I can't hear you, Roddy?"

"It's nothing, really."

I continued on with my normal routine, mindful that Roddy was in the same room as me and injured. It wasn't until the phone rang that I had a problem, before I could reach the phone Roddy had already answered it.

"Who is this?"

I could hear a loud, angry voice on the phone and Piper got defensive.

"You think you're a hard man do ya?!"

Damien. That's got to be Damien, which means I am in some real trouble now. Thanks Piper, ya dafty.

"I'll get her to call ya back once you've calmed down."

He slammed the phone back into it's place and breathed out a hefty sigh.

"Kirby, is Damien your boyfriend?" He seemed instantaneously calm

I almost choked on air for a moment, "No! He's my manager, and he's like double my age. He's Vic," I paused for a moment, "He's my dad, as well as the other members of the D.O.D. We're not all his biological daughters though, just Vickie."

"So, he adopted you?"

"I guess you could say that." I avoided looking him in the eyes.

"Tell me the truth. Now!"

"Promise you won't tell anyone first."

"I won't tell a soul, now, why are you so, uptight, about who he is to you."

"First things first, my name isn't Kirby Lucifarian, it's actually Kirby Trevor."

"Oh, so Damien's not you're adoptive father, either?"

"No, my real parents are Heaven and Eric Trevor. Damien's Vickie's dad and only Vickie's dad."

"Are either one of your parents giants? or is it just you?"

"Just me, the closest person to me in height, family-wise was my uncle Rory. He's the reason I have the tattoo on my wrist."

I walked up to Piper and showed him the 'R' tattooed on my right wrist.

"So, he passed away?"

"Yeah. He died, eleven, no no, twelve years ago now, when I was Seventeen, My uncle Vaughn died a couple months later, he's why I have the lighter on my left arm, my uncle Vaughn was best known for being, in the nicest terms, a layabout smoker, and the smoke took him in the end."

"So, you have a lighter to remember a man who died by smoking?"

"Dark, I know, but uncle Vaughn would've laughed at it. Erik laughed at it when I explained it to him."

"Eric, your dad?"

"No, no, Erik, with a 'K', my old tag partner before I joined the D.O.D. I think you would've liked him."

"Really, now why would I like a guy I know nothing about?"

"Well, Erik's Scottish, He's from Edinburgh. He's tall-ish, then again I am a giant, so who am I to say what's tall, he's six-foot-five. He played the bagpipes when he was younger, he quit playing when he was twenty-three, same year we lost the tag titles."

"Rough," He interrupted "Continue, please."

"Uh, well. Erik's strong, very strong, he would compete in the Highland games and well, … I guess back then I thought I'd never leave him, until Damien gave me an offer I couldn't refuse and I left him. I had a whole life with him planned inside my head and I left it all behind, for what, cramped hotel rooms and breakfasts with André."

"You had breakfast with André the giant and you didn't tell me … You, You had a good Scottish man, and you left him, for," He gestured to the room, "all this?"

"Well I jus-"

"No," He held my jaw and looked me straight in the eyes, "You had a life, a man who obviously a close relationship with you, and you gave it up for breakfasts with André and shitty hotel rooms."

"I know I'm stupid."

"But you're not stupid, you saved me, I could have died in that hallway and you brought me in here, you stopped that bastard from killing me. I could kiss you."

"Please don't."

Sorry for cliff-hanger ending, but … END OF BLOODY, BEATEN, BRUISED or MAXIMUM EFFORT.

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Elizabeth Rowandale

Elizabeth Rowandale has 16 stories at Gossamer spanning from 1995 to 2012, plus she has more at AO3 (other fandoms too). She's been giftng the fandom with stories for a long time! I've talked about some of my favorites of her stories before, including Hallways and Water's Edge. Big thanks to Elizabeth for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Yes and no.  When I find myself suddenly caught up in a fandom that has already lived its glory days (which happens a lot, I'm habitually late to the party), I am always ravenous for fic written during the original run - it always has a different perspective and voice and it's like a little bit of the experience captured in time -- so I can understand how others would be interested in my past.  That said, some of my early stuff is pretty awful. LOL.  I have left it online for two reasons: 1. Nostalgia, 2. I know there are some fics I've read in my life that may not have been the best written in a literary sense, but just had something magical about them that fed exactly what I needed.  And I would hate it if the author took down that work and I could never find it again (which has happened).  So I try to respect that same sentiment should it appear in one of my readers.  I'd say by about 6th or 7th season of the original run, my work became presentable. :)  My largest X-Files work ("Water's Edge") was begun during the original run and completed about a year after the show ended.  That one I definitely still claim as my work, even though there's certainly stuff I would fix if I were writing it now.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

So many things!  Let's start with my husband. :D  I met the love of my life on the X-Files newsgroup in spring of 1995.  We were married a year later, and we are still married 24 years later and have a 20 year old daughter.  One of the most important friendships of my life came from being part of this fandom - she began as an "Edgehead" during the original posting of "Water's Edge". The fandom brought me my family, friends, and made me believe in myself as a writer and, in some ways, as a person worth being friends with, for the first time in my life.  It's kind of crazy, really, how different my life would be without it.  The experience was not without its flaws.  There was a lot of judgementalism, a lot of cliquishness, a lot of snobbery.  I was condemned almost as much as I was welcomed.  But in the end it was all worth the life experience.

As far as the fic itself, X-Files was my first real experience with fanfic, and it thoroughly spoiled me for all other fandoms forever, because the sheer VOLUME of professional quality work being put out there was mind-boggling.  I expected all fandoms to be like this, and the fact is this is extremely rare and precious.  I think I could read X-Files fic for the rest of my life and never run out of pieces worth reading.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

I started out primarily on a.t.x.c..  Then progressed to mailing lists (especially Scullyfic/E-muse!), and later was very involved on The Haven.  The Haven was quite a magical experience.

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

I think I answered this by over-babbling on the question above. :D  But ultimately, I think I would have to say my belief in literature as a tool to connect people on an intimate level that almost nothing else can.  To give people a brief moment of sharing their precious internal worlds and inviting someone else to step into it with them.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

Really, it was inevitable.  It has all the classic tropes that have always spoken to me - Supernatural horror, law enforcement partners, partner UST, misfits as heroes, haunting soundtrack.  But amusingly enough, my first impression of it was negative.  My mother and I had been religiously watching "Sightings", a FOX reality show (before "reality shows" were a thing) on the supernatural.  Then that got cancelled and they replaced it with some show that was about fictionalized encounters with and investigations of the paranormal.  And we were like WTF we don't want that, we want real investigations and evidence!  So I didn't watch it out of protest. :D  Then one night I stumbled upon it when I had nothing to do and watched "Lazarus".  I thought the show was okay, but that I could never really get invested in it because there was no real chemistry between Mulder and Scully (yes, you can laugh me out of the room now :D).  But the thing is, you can't FIND the significant moments in that episode unless you're already embroiled in their world.  Like when Mulder calls her "Dana" on the phone and we all know he's panicking big time -- this was my first episode, so I assumed he always called her Dana, no big.  Some time passed, then I saw Conduit.  And Tooms.  And I started to get really sucked in.  Then I saw Genderbender.  Now, if you know me at all, you know since I was about 6 years old, my life has revolved around my current muse.  I get obsessed with a certain actress/performer/character, and that becomes my lens for the whole world (yes, at 6 it was Lynda Carter as Diana Prince).  I have always moved from one Muse to the next, and the few times I've been without a focus person I'm very untethered and unproductive.  So, I'd been in one of my longest dry spells following my Madonna and Vivien Leigh obsessions, mostly focusing on reading Dean Koontz books, when X-Files came along.  And this obsession was unique in that I can actually pinpoint the moment I fell.  I was sitting in my bedroom watching Genderbender, and they were outside the general store and Scully had just been touched by Brother Andrew and was a little tripped out and staring after the horse and cart when Mulder stepped up to see if she was okay, and...I actually felt myself falling for Gillian Anderson.  And there was this moment of both elation and bittersweetness, because I knew how all-consuming my obsessions could be and the emotional rollercoaster they could entail (especially when I was younger, I'm a little better armored now :)).  But I have no control over when and where they hit.  But I knew by the end of that episode that I was off on another wild ride of the muse. :)

So, the short answer is -- Gillian Anderson. :D

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

Truthfully, I can't experience anything without writing fanfic in my head.  I've been doing it in one form or another my whole life, I just didn't know until the X-Files (and the internet) how many other people were like me!!  I started writing X-Files fic before I was even online.  In fact, The X-Files was the reason I got my first internet service - because the fandom was moving online and I didn't want to miss out.  I read my first fanfic in the Unofficial X-Files Fanclub monthly zine and it fascinated me.  I wrote my first X-Files fic, a first season story called "Silent Lines", before I had ever been on the internet, and I had it published in that same fanclub newsletter.  (I was already writing original fiction, hoping to make writing my career).  Later, after I had joined the internet XF community, I wrote a post-ep to "Irresistible" that I posted online.  That was my first online fic.  Some time after (and a few more fics down the road) when all the rights to "Silent Lines" had reverted to me, I posted that online as well.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

I dabble now and then. :)  When the reboot came about, I came back to the old stomping grounds and reconnected with some of the Old Guard.  I still have a fair amount of pretty Mulder and Scully on my Twitter feed, and I continue to follow all Gillian Anderson's new projects.  But it's not my primary focus at the moment.  (My serial monogamist muse has another lover this year. :))

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

Several (Stargate, Sanctuary, Xena, Battlestar Galactica, Once Upon a Time, etc.).  As I mentioned before, almost none of them had anywhere NEAR the quality and quantity of fanfic The X-Files has to offer.  The closest I experienced was the Xena fandom.  There are some AMAZING Uber fics and Conqueror fics, many of which went on to be published as original novels.  Some fandoms were colder and more cruel than The X-Files.  Some were warmer and more generous.  I was most prolific during my years in the Stargate fandom.  I wrote something like 80 fics.  It was crazy.  I don't think I'll ever be that prolific again.

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

Just from anything?  From television Dana Scully, Stella Gibson, Laura Roslin, Sharon Raydor, Regina Mills.  I love powerful women with scars.  Kind women at heart who will fight for what they believe in and whom they love.  Mothers - whether in actuality or at heart.  I love women who prove strength and power can be completely synonymous with femininity.

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

A couple of months ago my husband and daughter and I finished a complete X-Files rewatch (original series and movies), taking our daughter through it for the first time.  It was awesome to re-experience it all through her eyes.  She grew up hearing about it, but had never seen more than a handful of episodes (and, sadly, the reboot LOL).

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

Every now and then I indulge in X-Files fic, yes.  Sometimes new stuff, most often revisiting old favorites.

I definitely read in my current fandoms.  For a few years I didn't, but lately I've been at it again.  Right now my primary muse is Mary McDonnell, so I'm obsessing over her various roles through the years.  Been reading fic for "Major Crimes", "Dances with Wolves", "Battlstar Galactica", "Passion Fish", and "ER" (specifically pertaining to Eleanor Carter).

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

Of course. :)  Mish's "No Quarter Given" will always own my soul. [Lilydale note: It’s a 3-part story: 1, 2, 3.] "Black Hole Season" by Penumbra, "Above Rubies" by Rachel Howard, "Blinded by White Light" by DashaK, "Sounds of Silence" by GirlGone, "Blood Oranges" by Syntax6, "Absolute Zero" and "Never Enough" by August.  So many more.

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

From X-Files, I can't really choose between "Water's Edge" which took the most out of me) and "Bridges" (which I wrote just a couple of year ago).   I wrote them from very different places and I am proud of what I accomplished in each case. YMMV.

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

Never say never? :D  I still feel badly that I left the sequel to "Water's Edge", "High Tide", hanging after posting just a few chapters. I never should have started it. My muse jumped ship to another fandom, and there was really nothing I could do.  And I'm such a different person now, I don't know if what I would write now is what people who loved the first book would actually want to hear.  I came back with the reboot and wrote "Bridges" and that largely said everything I needed to say about what happened to Mulder and Scully after "I Want to Believe".  So, realistically, that was probably my XF writing swan song.  But I would never say I won't ever post another fic.  As the saying goes, "It all comes back to the X-Files".  (And, yes, there's PLENTY of half-finished fic on my hard drive. LOL)

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I do.  Now that my kid is grown, I'm trying to seriously pursue a professional writing career from here forward.  And I do still dabble writing fic in my current fandoms.  Right now there is a Major Crimes fic sitting on my hard drive waiting for me to work up the nerve to post it.;)

Where do you get ideas for stories?

Once I'm inside my POV character's head, the narrative in my brain won't shut up.  I flesh out and what-if everything.  I fill in every moment that doesn't appear on screen.  I talk to myself a lot and live in my head and sometimes scare family members.  I get some sort of orgasmic high from things like seeing Laura Roslin grasp and tuck into her own hair when she's crying while my inner voice screams "OMG IT'S CANON SHE SELF-SOOTHES WITH HER HAIR!!!!!"  I maintain a surprisingly sane outer presentation for the crazy obsessed artist I am within.

What's the story behind your pen name?

When I began removing my real name from the internet (for you young folks, we all started out using our Real Names and building our virtual houses on Geocities, then got warned from everywhere of the scary scary place that is cyberspace and started NEVER EVER using our real names, then Facebook came along and now everyone and their dog is out there with their real names, and Gen X is still going WTF ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!??), I simply chose what I found to be a pretty last name (Rowandale).  Elizabeth is my real name.  Along the way, when I had started to feel confined by expectations for my writing based on my reputation, I challenged myself to be more honest in what I wanted to write by using the mental trick of a pen name no one knew was actually me, and invented "Rowan Darkstar" (the darker "edgier" side of Elizabeth Rowandale).  "Rowan" was taken from Rowan Mayfair in Anne Rice's "The Witching Hour", my favorite novel at the time.  Later, I went public with the fact I was Rowan Darkstar, and when I moved into my next fandom, I did so with that as my primary name.  I have written in most of my fandoms as either Rowan Darkstar or LadyRowan with the exception of anything else Gillian Anderson related wherein I carried over the Elizabeth Rowandale since there were many crossover readers from X-Files.

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

Many of them do, yes.  For many years my mother was my primary beta reader!!  Sadly, she now suffers from dementia and can no longer fill that role.  My best friend came into my life through my Stargate and Sanctuary fic, so there's no hiding from her, and she is now my beta.:)  My husband met me in the fandom.  So...yeah, most of my close friends know.:)  In my 'other life' as an Army wife (now retired) and suburban Mom not so much.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

The most reliable place is probably AO3.  It doesn't have much of my older stuff, but I generally post anything new there.  I'm Rowan_D on Twitter.

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files?

No, you can't be red/green colorblind and be a field agent for the FBI.  No, soul groups don't work that way, Scully would have been his lover in some lifetimes, too.  Yes, someone with Scully's education and deliberate precision of language WOULD say "for whom?" and not "for who?", you are quite right to cringe.  No, you can't drive to Quantico and back to downtown DC and have it still be morning.  And lastly -- The Kansas town after which they modeled "The Rain King" is NOT brown, it is NOT flat, it HAS a regional airport, and the residents are educated and intelligent.  I lived there at the time -- There was a whole layout in the local paper about the crew visiting for "authenticity."  I still marvel at how that is even possible.

(Posted by Lilydale on August 25, 2020)

[yerrrabitch]

A Ride Home

Y/N - Your Name

Y/B/N - Your Boyfriend’s Name

Y/UNI/N - Your University Name

Y/M - Your Major

C/Y - Current Year

It was a normal night. Well as normal as it could be. You and your boyfriend had a fight earlier in the car because your shirt hung “too low”. It wasn’t your fault that your breast spilled out of your shirt the way they did. However, Y/B/N hated that. He actually hated every time you wore clothes that showed any skin. It was suffocating. You compromised and wore his alumni sweater. 

“Y/N!” a blonde from your 8AM yelled, ”Come dance with me!”

You put your red cup down and took her up on her offer. It wasn’t like you were doing anything but brooding anyway. Y/B/N had went into the house with some friends and you were in the backyard waiting. You hated this part. You’d come out with him every weekend to appease him. Truth was your feet, back and head hurt and you craved nothing more than your bed and the feeling of your fan blowing against your cheeks in the moonlight. But, like every weekend Y/B/N would make you feel bad for wanting rest. You went to school full time and worked part time at a local diner so that you could afford to stay in your apartment. He had graduated during your sophomore year and was living his best life while owning his own bar. 

It wasn't like you hated being out; you were just tired. He didn't understand that. Despite hating your hours and your dedication to work and school, he never offered to help with your bills or spend the night in. It’s not like you’d accept anyway but, the thought that he would consider would’ve been nice.

“Y/N!”, she yelled while latching on to your arm. She had grown tired of waiting for you to come to her. She threw her head back and laughed as she grinded on you to the beat of a popular pop song. You could smell the alcohol on her breath and began to laugh. This was actually fun. You two began to dance together more provocatively and you hated being out less. 

Two songs later and you needed a break. You both decided to get something to eat inside. You took off the sweater and put it on the counter. The house owner, Ralph, had laid out all kinds of cheap food. You gravitated towards the fruit while she dove at the pizza. You looked at your phone and saw it was 12:08 AM. 

You had to be at work at 7 AM.

Y/B/N knew this and was still doing God knows what in the house. Irritation set in and you immediately felt your mood sour. You considered ordering an UBER and going home on your own. No. He brought me here, he needs to bring me home. 

You called his phone twice and then sent him a text message.

Y/N: Hey, it’s late and I have work tomorrow. 

Seen 12:15 AM

“You good, ma?” A tall man asked.

You didn't recognize him. He must be from out of town. 

“I’m fine, thank you”

“You don't look fine.” He said eyeing you and the way you shifted from one foot to the other, “you need a fix or sum?”

You couldn't help the laughter that shot out of your mouth and filled the kitchen. He cracked a wide smile at you. He’s fine.

“No, I’m actually waiting for someone to come downstairs. I need to leave.”

“Who?” He asked raising an eyebrow, while leaning against the table and staring into your eyes.

“My boyfriend.” You deadpanned

“Yikes.”

“What?”

“If I was your boyfriend, I would've never left you alone.”

There’s no reason he shouldn't be answering his phone. Let me see where he is. You moved around the table and the man in front of you to find Y/B/N.

“Ma, let me take you home”

You stared at him for a minute. 

“I need to find my boyfriend.” You said, putting an emphasis on the boyfriend part.

“If he’s in this house, right now. You’re single.”

You stop in your tracks and you feel tears well up in your soft, brown eyes. It had to be the liquor, you aren't sensitive.

“Excuse me”, your voice completely icy and your hands shaky. The blonde grabbed her pizza and went back outside, glad to escape whatever was happening in there.

“They're up there playing a stripping game. When I left nobody had pants on so if he's there now I can't imagine.”

You turned on your heel and flew up the stairs and followed the sound of the crappy 2008 hits into a game room. There he was, sprawled out beneath a girl while she sucked on his left nipple. You cleared your throat and everyone in the room paused, knowing who you were. 

He opened his eyes after a second and jumped up in realization. His face morphed from fright to anger. 

“Where’s the sweater?”

The nerve and audacity of this man. You caught him with a bitch sucking on his tiddy and he had the balls to ask you about what you were wearing? You started to laugh. You were borderline hysterical at this point. 

“Die.”

You turn back around and go down the stairs opening your phone. You could handle that in the morning but, right now you needed to go home and go to sleep.

You sighed loudly and pulled your hair up into a bun. You didn't care that it'd have to stay like that until next wash day. You were overheating and irritated. 

A low whistle broke you out of your blank stare into the street. You looked up and it was the man from the kitchen. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, while sitting next to you on the steps.

“I will be. Once I get home and shower this off of me.”

“I can take you if you want.”

“It’s ok. I don't want to bother-”

“I offered. It’s not a bother if I offer.”

You eyed him weirdly. Why did this man have an interest in you? 

“Ok but, windows have to be down the whole way there and you have to drive with one hand out the window” You stated firmly.

He chuckled.

“Ok shorty. I’ll do whatever you say”

*******

He drove a C/Y Acura with red interior. The car was well kept; it still smelled like a new car. You stared at the inside, instantly falling in love with the car and the way it felt.

“It’s just a car.” Your eyes snapped to his, warmth spreading across your neck.

“Sorry, it’s beautiful though”

“It was a gift.” He said while checking his shoulder and pulling away from the curb. A gift? Who’s he friends with? “From my aunt and cousin.”

“Cool. Usually I get books or dinners.” He cracked a smile.

“They’re overcompensating. They weren't around when they could've been.” He stopped at a light. The red illuminated his face and made his teeth look even whiter, if possible. You noticed for the first time that he had gold bottoms in. His long eyelashes brushed against his brown cheek as he cut his eye at you to gauge your reaction.

“Shorty.”

“Yes,” you said blinking out of your trance. He was delicious. 

“I asked you which way”, he said smirking at you. He knew that you liked what you saw. 

“Keep going straight.” You turned to the road, you wanted to keep an eye on your surroundings not only him. 

“So why’re you in a rush to get home?”

“I have to work in a few hours.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. An action that turned you on more. 

“You knew you had to work and you still came out? You’re wild.”

“I thought I would have left hours ago to be honest. Y/B/N and I got into a fight and I was distracting myself downstairs.”

“I saw you at like 9. You were nursing one cup man.” You felt stupid. You should've left after the argument. Matter of fact, you shouldn't have came. 

“Did I ask you?”

“Look, it is what it is. I’m just saying I don't think you came here for you.”

He was right. Your entire relationship with Y/B/N wasn't for you. It started off to appease him and stop his antics. He had been following you around campus trying to get your number for weeks after spotting you in the cafe. You stayed with him because you found comfort in routine. Fuck him. You were tired.

“That doesn't matter.” You said closing the issue off from him.

“Ok. So tell me about something that does”

“Huh?”

“Tell me about yourself.” You left out a small laugh. He wanted to get to know you right after you walked in on God knows what with your ex. 

“I just walked in on my ex cheating on me. Man let me be single for a second.”

“All I asked was for an introduction.” He cut his eye at you. You felt bad. All he wanted was conversation and you assumed he wanted you. I’m such a bitch.

“I’m a senior at Y/UNI/N and I am a Y/M.” You said quietly. 

“All you do is study? I go there too.”

“I’ve never seen you around.”

“You’re too busy trying to help the world,” He smiled. “It’s admirable though.”

“Not the whole world. Only the brown part.”

He let out a earthquaking laugh that warmed every fiber of your being. 

“I respect that. But, why?”

“I grew up with only my mom around. And I saw how it was for her, a single women, to help feed and raise my sister and I. Turn right at this light. I want to help women like that get the tools they need to succeed. It shouldn't be that hard to live a basic life.” You reminisced about all the late nights and early mornings your mom had just to make sure you kept food on the table. “I’m trying to get an internship with this youth outreach program this summer so I can get more roots in the area.”

“I can get you an internship but, it won't be around here”

You stared at him like he had three heads while he passed your street. You quickly told him to take the other way to your apartment to avoid the embarrassment. 

“What do you mean?”

“My cousin built this outreach center in Oakland. I work there when I’m not in school so I can help my community. If you want I can connect y’all.”

You damn near jumped into this mans lap. 

“Of course I want to! Thank you so much!”

“I’m gonna need your number then, sweetheart.”

He pulled into a parking space in front of your building and passed you his phone. You saved yourself and handed it back to him.

“What about you?”

“I want to help black people worldwide loosen the chains of their white oppressors.”

“Any progress?”

“I’m actually making a lot in Oakland right now. I think it’s important to help each other and lean less on the white man and his government. Only then can we truly break free from them.” His eyes were fiery as he explained his goal. His passion oozed out of him and captivated you.

“That sounds like a few generation long project.” You mused. You wanted to help.

“That’s fine. As long as I help my people. I don't care how long it takes.”

You wished you had met him instead of Y/B/N. This man had humor, looks, and layers and you'd just met him. All Y/B/N had was a strong name.

“You're passionate about this.”

“You should understand.”

“I do.” You looked at his arm still hanging out of the window. “Sorry about that. I just have to make sure you won't kidnap me.”

“Girl, if I wanted to kidnap you a few windows and an arm out the window wouldn't have stopped me.”

“Sir. Please.” You laughed. 

“You should buy a taser. Those are more effective.”

“I’ll think about it.” You said while opening the door and climbing out.

“I could've gotten that for you.”

“After all you've done for me tonight?” You shook your head, “Thank you for the ride...” You didn't know this mans name. 

“So this is dumb but, what’s your name?”

“Erik. What’s yours, bright eyes”

“Y/N.”

“Well go inside Y/N. You need rest.” He pointed at the clock in his car. It read 1:45 AM. Damn. You would've traded anything to keep talking to him. “Don’t make that face. I know you’ll miss me but, don't worry you'll see me soon enough.”

[beanie-beebo-writes]

It follows

Series Summary: Reader is running from financial problems and his/her studies, will they catch up with him/her? Charlie's close friends (none other than Sam and Dean) go to check up on the reader due to Charlie becoming worried for him/her. Trouble pursues, as the reader wants to keep silent about his/her struggles.

Warnings: None

Masterlist

Chapter 14

Dean focused intently on driving down city side-streets, just in case if the creature back there decided to trail after them. He was bewildered, and honestly didn't know what to think, but he tried not to get too lost in thought as he sped to the motel. Hell, he was lucky he wasn't a midnight snack, based on the way it tried to ravish both Dean and itself.. For a good couple of minutes, the drive was silent, except for the sound of your heart pounding in your ears and an occasional thought passing through your mind.

"What exactly happened back there?" Sam asked.

"I don't know, I really don't. But whatever we are hunting, it is not a werewolf." Dean replied.

"Did you see what it was?" You asked curiously.

"That's the thing, I did, but, it wasn't anything I've seen before." Dean said.

You and Sam stared at Dean, hoping the discomfort would force him to continue explaining. As you expected, he glanced from the road, back at both of you.

"What?!" He finally asked.

"What did it look like?" Sam inquired.

"Well, it was in the form of this beautiful woman. It looked normal, at least until I slashed it with the silver knife; which had no effect on it, by the way. And it used some sort of power, healing the wound instantly. Not like angel mojo, but… I don't know." Dean explained.

"Anything else?" You asked, feeling like he was holding back.

"Um… well, it's like she put a spell on me." Dean admitted.

"And you didn't bother to tell us?!" Sam asked.

"I thought it was nothing, but I suppose now it could be important." Dean said.

"What did she specifically do to you?" Sam asked.

"I don't really know, to be honest.. It was like she was.. irresistible, and I couldn't control Mr. General-"

"Please don't tell me you..." Sam began to interrupt.

"God Sam, no, I didn't go down on her. At least, I wasn't going to, not until she started biting my neck." Dean said.

Sam massaged the bridge of his nose. "You could have spared the details, you know." He said in disgust.

"No, like, she was actually trying to feed on me, it was weird." Dean explained.

Both you and Sam looked in confusion at the elder Winchester; you hadn't even heard of this in the books.

"I guess it isn't a wolf." You mumbled audibly.

"Ya think?" Dean retorted.

"But that leaves us with one big question.. What is it then?" Sam asked aloud.

Silence filled the car once again as you all pondered deeply.

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

As soon as you got back into the motel room, you all instantly hit the books, having no idea where to even start. You weren't really too skilled at this type of research, but you used what you knew from the series, hoping it would suffice. The first topic you figured you could start on, was a shapeshifter, but you instantly hit another dead end, since shifters weren't immune to silver. Your only resort now was anything that ate their prey.

"Could it be a rugaru?" You asked, reading into the lore.

"I don't think so," Dean said, "at least not like any I have ever seen. That thing had complete control, you should have seen it."

Sam cleared his throat briefly. "Maybe it had its urges under control?" Sam guessed.

"Maybe, but it seemed completely human to me, except for the feeding part. No wrinkling skin or black eyes… All normal. There was something about her face though, and I can't put my finger on it." Dean said.

"What about it?" You asked.

"It had a familiar aspect to it, like I've seen the features before."

"Like you knew her?" You asked.

"No, like I've seen similar facial features somewhere before, but I can't remember exactly where." Dean said.

"What were the facial features like?" Sam asked.

"She had a long pointed face..." Dean recalled.

"Like a stereotypical witch?" Sam asked with a chuckle.

"No," You responded, typing away on the extra laptop, "like a fox."

"There it is," Dean said with recognition, "how did you guess?"

"I've watched some interesting cartoons in the nineties." You responded with a smirk.

Dean looked at you with confusion and then to his brother, shrugging when they both didn't get the reference. You clicked on the first link that popped up, since it seemed remotely along the lines of the Winchester business.

"A Kumiho?" Dean asked, reading the title of the webpage.

"Yeah, it says here that it roughly translates to 'nine-tailed fox'." You stated.

Dean hummed in response, peering over your shoulder.

"Common lore says it transforms freely; many say that it turns into a woman, to seduce prey."

You all raised your eyebrows at the last statement and instantly looked at one another.

"This makes total sense," Dean said, "(Y/N), you're a genius!"

You blushed. "I mean, not really.." You replied.

"Are you kidding? It would have taken me and Sammy a good hour or so to crack this, and I think it's only been forty minutes. That's incredible!" Dean exclaimed.

"Thanks." You beamed quietly.

"Yeah, good work (Y/N)." Sam agreed, returning the smile.

Suddenly, the police scanner on Sam's computer popped up without warning, almost sending you to the floor. A male voice roughly came through the small speakers, ordering a squad to dispatch to East Morgan Street, near State Road 931. The attacker was unclear, but a young boy was both badly injured and traumatized by something the officer couldn't exactly place reason on.

"Alright, I definitely feel we should check this one out. It's likely what we're after." Sam said, standing up from his small work space.

"What have we got to lose?" Dean said.

The three of you quickly got into your federal attire and headed out to the general address provided. In a short amount of time you arrived to the scene. Multiple cop cars, and fire rescue squads were swarmed about, flooding the dark, desolate street with flashing lights. You adjusted your 'badge' and made your way to the police car in the center of the scene. A middle-aged cop stood on the side with a small group from the squad, who seemed to be discussing what he came across when he found the boy. The rest of the two teams attended to the boy on the back of an ambulance, addressing his wounds and occasionally asking him questions. You and Dean headed over to the officer, while Sam took to the boy. Your anxiety perked slightly, but you acted as nonchalant as possible, to try and not draw attention.

"Excuse me," Dean said, grabbing the group's attention, "I'm Agent Ford, this is my partner, Agent Griffith, would you care to explain the situation?"

"FBI? Why would you guys be interested in this? Isn't it a little early?" The middle-aged officer asked.

"We've been pinging these types of cases for a brief while, and we think it's the work of a specific killer, we picked this up on the radar." You responded confidently.

"Alright, that sounds reasonable." The officer said to you. "Tend to the scene guys, I've got this one." He said to his colleagues.

After his colleagues dispersed, you instantly asked for details on what had occurred not long before he sent out the alert on the scanner.

"It's weird, I was driving down here, patrolling the park for the evening shift, when this young boy ran straight in front of my car. Luckily, I wasn't going the speed limit, or both of us would have been roadkill. He came right out of the brush over there, and it looked like he got attacked by some wild animal or something. I got out of the car, and asked him what was wrong, and he just pointed to where he ran from. There was a woman, just standing inside the entrance of the woods, staring at us. I shone my flashlight, and she took off running. I couldn't leave the boy, so I called for backup." The officer said.

"Did he ever say what gave him those bites?" Dean asked.

"That's the thing, he said it was the woman." He replied with uneasiness.

"Did you have anyone go after her?" You asked.

"Some of the squad scoured the area, but they couldn't find anyone. Like I said, it was weird." He answered.

"What did the woman look like, officer.." Dean trailed off, gesturing to the cop.

"Mavin, sorry." He finished. "She was thin, her hair was infused with a natural red and a few other natural-born colors. Her face came to a point at the chin, and her nose was small but longer in length… Almost like.."

"A fox?" You said.

"Yeah..exactly! How did you know?" Marvin asked.

"Just intuition." You said.

"And you haven't seen her since?" Dean asked.

"No, thankfully. She had a weird vibe to her. But we have definitely on the lookout." He said.

"Thank you for your time, Officer Mavin." You said.

As you finished conversing with the officer, you saw Sam had already walked back from the ambulance, talking with another officer. He broke off the conversation as he saw you two walking up.

"What did you find?" Sam asked, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Looks like this coincides with the case," Dean replied, "The officer matched the attacker to a 'T'. It was the same thing that attacked me."

"That's promising; you know what the kid just told me? The lady lured him in, probably just like the other victims. Remember how Brayden's sister said that a woman was trailing her brother before he died? I think that's what has been happening with all of the victims." Sam said.

"I think you're right, but do you think we could take this back to the car or something? Cops make me uneasy." You admitted quietly.

The boys looked at you with understanding and agreed to your reasonable request. Without drawing much attention, you all went back to the beloved car to discuss what would happen next. But just before you hopped into the back seat, you could have sworn you saw two eyes glaring at you in the distance.