#┇•❀• ⊱ ◦ let sleeping dogs lie ⊰ blossom musings; ⊱

[authorautumnbanks]

How To Tame A Sorcerer (29)

Gojo opens the front door to the apartment. The door hits the wall with a loud bang. He winces. That is for sure going to leave a hole in the wall that someone other than him will have to fix. He snaps his fingers, turning around to look at Kagome and Yuji. Kagome shakes her head and mutters under her breath.

"I've got the perfect mission for you, Yuji-kun!"

"Mission?" Yuji sputters. "What about the exchange event?" Yuji sets his bag down and gives Kagome the puppy dog face.

"No, no. Gome-chan can't save you." Gojo huffs, his resolve crumbling away like the sugar cookies he snuck in for breakfast. "Aw, c'mon. I haven't even said what the mission is." What a traitor his student is turning out to be. As if getting Kagome on his side will change Gojo's stance.

"If it involves fixing the wall, then you can do it. Yuji-kun shouldn't have to clean up after you." She brushes by him; the scent of lavender consumes him. Well, fuck. Alright, he muses, perhaps Yuji getting Kagome on his side was the way to go.

"Yeah!" Yuji fist pumps the air and skips past. "I can't wait to see everyone again!"

"You can't just walk up," Gojo says, kicking the door shut, "it has to be a surprise!" He claps his hands at the excitement painted on Yuji's face. "Everyone will fall out on the floor, seeing you–their long-lost comrade back from the dead. It will be enough to–"

"Stop world hunger!" They both exclaim out. Yuji launches himself at Gojo, rubbing his face along his. They crackle. Yuji lets out a couple of snorts that only send Gojo into another laughing fit. His stomach aches from laughing so much. Gojo bends down and grabs a hold of Yuji's leg, flipping him upside down as he levitates them both in the air.

"Kagome-san, are you going to watch?" Yuji asks upside down as Gojo swings him back and forth with one hand.

"Of course, she'll be there! First, we have to get the introductions out of the way and then the event will actually start this afternoon." Gojo tosses Yuji onto the couch and floats back down. He thrusts his arms open. "Jealous? I can swing you around too." He walks forward, pokes Kagome with one long finger on her cheek. She puffs her cheeks out and grabs ahold of his hand. Warmth blossoms in his chest. The loud sound of Yuji clearing his throat breaks the trance. Gojo takes a step back. He should ask her sometime when she started wearing Lavender scented perfumes.

"I'm gonna go lie down for a bit. You two have fun," Kagome says, picking up their discarded suitcase. Her skin is a tad bit too pale for his liking, though that could just be from the lack of sleep. Deep down, he knows that it's silly, and Naoya clearly repulsed Kagome. But when they got back to the hotel room, all he could think about was how he needed more from her–more of her.

He'll have to send Ijichi to pick Kagome up later in time for the event to start. Or he could just wrap and pick her up himself. It would be more dramatic if he just popped up with her on his arm, then having Ijichi drop her off. Gojo waits until she disappears from his sight and he hears the bedroom door close to address Yuji.

"Before we go, and I put you in a box," Gojo says, reaching into his pocket and grabbing a hold of the newly wrapped cursed finger. He wanted to come up with an elaborate: Oh, there's a curse over there, go exorcise it Yuji. And then bam, Yuji would find the cursed finger. A sound plan if he had the time to put it into motion.

"Why are you putting me in a box?" Yuji asks, leaning back on the couch. "Oh! Is that how I'll make my entrance? We could wrap it up, and I could jump out."

"Yes! But first, the foxes gave me a little present for you." He holds out the wrapped finger. Yuji scrunches up his face but takes the object anyway.

"The last time you got me a gift, I nearly died," Yuji says, unwrapping the sutras. "Nooo," he bemoans.

"It's not that bad. Are you saying you'd rather eat the ones that are all angry-looking?" Gojo crosses his arms. He tilts his head, listening to what sounds like the shower going. Maybe he should go check on her before he heads out?

"Uh yeah, these pale ones burn on the way down," Yuji says, taking a deep breath and swallowing the cursed finger. "Why?" Yuji asks, his hands grip his throat as he bends over. His skin flashes with Sukuna's markings and then fades away. His skin pales and then flushes red, as if his body can't decide on how it wants to handle what it just digested. Yuji coughs and struggles to right himself.

"Ayy, you didn't die though!" Gojo snaps his fingers and pretends to shoot at the glaring red eye of Sukuna on Yuji's cheek. A minuscule amount of guilt brews in his gut over how the purified fingers are causing Yuji pain, but the more rational side of him reminds him that every finger Kagome can purify is a win for them.

"Sensei, you're the worst."

Gojo waves a hand in the air, brushing off the accusation. "Ready to get in the box?"

Yuji falters under the glare of Megumi and Nobara. He isn't sure what to make of the talking panda–though after spending time with a bunch of fox demons over the weekend, a talking panda really isn't that far-fetched. The white-haired boy that only speaks in onigiri ingredients, though – that, that is a little weird. "How long do I have to hold this?" he asks, slinking further down as he holds the board up.

"I can't believe you've been alive this whole time," Nobara says, her fist-shaking. Yuji tries to melt into the flooring. Maybe if he could just disappear quietly, she won't hit him. "I mean, I almost shed a thug tear." She pretends to wipe a tear from her eye. Panda pats her back and Yuji still can't get over the talking panda.

"Salmon," Inumaki says, nodding his head.

"Have you been with sensei this whole time?" Megumi speaks up. At least he isn't glaring anymore. Yuji would take Megumi's indifference any day.

"Kagome-san too. I lived with them." Yuji sets the board down and stands up. The green-haired girl–Maki regards him coolly. Her indifference is colder than the special chocolate chip supreme brownie rush sundae he had on the trip.

"Who's Kagome?" Panda asks.

"Sensei's girlfriend," Megumi replies.

"Girlfriend!" the others shout. Yuji blinks. Is it really that crazy for Gojo-sensei to be in a relationship? Maki looks disgusted, Nobara is indifferent, Inumaki is scratching his head, Panda–well he just looks like a…. panda, and Megumi just looks over it all.

"Kagome-san is coming by later to watch the event," Yuji says. Megumi looks behind him. "Do you not want Kagome-san to watch?"

"He just doesn't want to give Buyo Jr back," Nobara says, tucking some stray hairs back behind her ear.

"That freaky cat thing belongs to Gojo's girlfriend?" Maki scoffs.

"He isn't freaky."

"Pandas are better."

"Salmon."

"Guys," Yuji starts, but they ignore him, leaving him to trail after them. The sun is bright, and the weather is just perfect. Now if only he could get the gang to get off the subject of how freaky Buyo Jr is. "Shouldn't we come up with a game plan? I don't actually know what we're doing."

"Sensei never told you?" Megumi asks.

"No, not really."

They all let out a series of groans and bring him into a huddle. Happiness fills him, and he can't stop smiling. He can't wait to go all out with his friends and show sensei and Kagome-san how far he's come.

[libidomechanica]

Untitled Poem # 8654

A rispetto sequence

               1

Heavens toward signs as shows his brain, and try to tae that I am now with faint low sigh, and whom the open hatchway vomiting the

air be music and in the sought will: out spak’ the queenly bear it. What went too? While often in her, nightingaling through her sweet hand.

               2

Line dance will love it would I leave him to see’t; yet Juan’s breath; for her not always snare some one lifts by day; they saw his moral lesson’

then a belovèd hand like mountain. An enjoy. My Muse may chance thinks me be darksome sell, and demand what the time may penetrate.

               3

The warld’s most pure dyes which shall lot. So they have over there it be sent home fruit in Change; and trouble my Julia. Too justly what I

cannot do they what we made of us thou can, more terrible Self-solitude! ’ Id est— blackguardsman was old, its puddle.

               4

Dog howling: she replied, Your bloom the lips throbbed to fill a boat, and some face, their knowing dames, the floor. His dying, dying words are?

Not shield a burnies trot, and the bell. All over met him a goodly sun: and, as did not prevented to save. A dream of white seal.

               5

Smell may get they begins to be friend of father! Which their crystal nunneries; notwithstand could not last. Try to the air, smell may the

lattice wrought of late: o God, think the sleep, he is a feast once, farewell worse than if I say? Will blush by day, and then the selected.

               6

Against me. When you must you, a Lover’s treasures whose sufferings I have pleaders and soft and day; who walked with tears rush’d with the proof we

should look, some shepherds unlike Parias; and, looking of Ireland, one is too soft lutes: for ever! My husband has a lady to it.

               7

Upon my great morning-Shower— one Morne, and seem in their state. And moving his race; and aye my Chloris, wilt not go far, but burnes, mine—

our fair face faded cheeks, like to tall and thus, and sweet self proved him off to see. While we never pry— lest guilt thus keep of delighted.

               8

High and something souls in pain, Paulo Majora. We knowes no sleep: thetis baptize postponed discern how all the windy sigh: the

wars … And many reason for convey a melancholy rise, And though to it, give you hanging to bee. Of ages gathering real.

               9

Was your bodies she saw them what has heart like a nursed him to oblivion. That I’d let the tag o’ her cheeks and some down, or

give anything. She presence of strange a thousand mean not winter by trade; and that please; I ne’er I file thing lover, the oracles.

               10

And the beauty’s bright her—she’d rather pap and dreams do I live or lust make my woeful stare upon his caprice or fan, to carry

out thee, panting, and thou in debates whose her calmly Love’s door of his hastening twins do moue their carriages, the May of dreadful thine.

               11

I say, and captives, whether of a Power to their heart, that impractising and what Loues decree that novelties parcht; her best which

is allotment with wine. For each, but stream with grace is deep and binds one’s hear until now scarce a scaffold high, and dream. That such a sword.

               12

They said she ’d said, exception of the depths of blossom to impossible learned it all; the mere nothing little lazy love

bring freedom by. As if I had no tear; nor blam’d forth merely meant but she doth deny. The boatswain did not wring his heard love the base.

               13

Ben Battle trailed itself to apathy, forsooth: I have been so much, and Vice, and replaced him lie: no need saving left the will call

summer day! And every night and quiet we sat with all that went of cures free. The mind—o’erpowering speech two negatiues affirme!

               14

The shades down, but reality whate’er it, all-damning glow; nor doth sports moved to speak of the will now how men can calculation.

The progress of other, for Buskie- glen, fu’ is his droops of Julia close and liked poetic war to the heads and in such brain, have died.

               15

So withstood in Man even the brittle; perhaps he help’d out: love lingers over and complaining in them quick to your own mouthing

why they mocked the world is full stay; you was not die. Was they benumb our hospitality. And make her caress’d—a bolt is my part.

               16

A vision of our prime, long to your belles and shiver the little girl and if my thee. An old Romance at Maud’s dark chilling chest, simply

blue; her breast. I heard a throng, but what the unquiet mind as your glass will stand among the worldlings I tried to its ink has plotted.

               17

It makes me next, because a knot. Brought: band of all: then she shard, the sports I had to stand nerves, ears, and tongue that extreme verge the muscles

of true ally. Human thought. And I was she saint forget the sugarcane, in love. Long and ” The actor’s parted, and yet there.

               18

Still, but not a mere not. When sees most deeply had love yon red with vigour; the mouth a red, red roses are but with a mistress, or

with wine. But, with human roses blaw in hempen rope hooked arrows of a darke, though the internal throes, and how pure pearlins enow.

               19

Eight show no fault in weak woman of that then shall eat thy thoughts true’, was never saw them of the tulips but often abroad and

comparison of Man terror crouched his soul’s strife, three long without who could confesse: Must we eat. Yet I cannot be—or I at least broods!

               20

The man whom Mankind at every long and will turn the oak tree should not seen such a burning which in the death destruct a young—I see,

Sir—you have got another’s life, saying, Our Machiavellian impresario at no day where a Body perfume. And stern.

               21

For our fortune were so Heaven- song I may not wait through the house is too young, althought ruin other downward, as one with your he

did them what is your sword! Yet neither, betrothed us one way men kills out our daughter, temperate show’d deep blood of fire, obsessed.

               22

Up there’s a word. When I’m engaged to see that sits upon the words were the proudest of delight, knight, whatever was sleep, nor in

quarrel tilts, nor lies and came the sibyl’s den or dry, a man: there’s nought to. Our houses; he does nothing heart is beauty herself.

               23

Then they cannot move, but who am I …?-White handy at makes no anodyne; give my life could not judge for once too in my vows o’

truth before ease they blur into all I cannot take refuge in wrinkled eild; o’ gude advisement warmth of flower as he crowes!

               24

Then what we would know hopes all this . The gory blot of the deaths do they had killed a throne. Bearing the ship came Night, and say, with her, as

if by instrument, he with love. To me; and cherish’d wither, it was flowers. She least would, we grew so weighty pearl and won’t do it.

               25

Now Ben he went, with more splendour. Senseless feelings chart as my Muse may make perforce: the tree that all that the poor desire, the past

stately maybe tellingtons turned to die, or laces, or a while thee, panting smile; but want of worse than the night he lies a wretched!

               26

This caprice or two: but hurriedly think of strange into a scrape, but keep Touch wilt send; it is them. Sat a Lover’s face I recognized

no more, whaever have my comfort both old and Doom: they seeping that brief emergent pattern; and mountain-woods, the honey is wax?

               27

Of air which permanence is far too much better undergo; both makes these our neighbour then spoke I to my birth till each more—but the

white face sharpens and freedom. Winds creep; and the tender you are not the design when midway on day, their dying but Wisdom can come.

               28

The to be deem’d the casket of happier that held no show how far it profits is another can common. The fence at pleas’d to

her know it should forgiue? In each padlocked, one day when he tries, the great expectation. The frock and fair, in some shining, and raised at a’!

               29

As tragedy. A dry radius describing people are raw pulsing just arranging little Leila we’lldispose which flashing

more. Into our breath of weeds of a traveller! Were sick unto the hall the very flowers of summer. In the constant and I.

               30

As for something called lovely leans, and her summon’d hands on either trust cantos up to touch. Perhaps his rude song in the dark disgrace,

he loved in mouth though lean on for ever I have a due respect grew so that flows on this impediment. And angel beauteous Bride.

               31

And the Starrs, all fashioning to that sensation, wear her eye meet. And chafe, although lie with tears, and now scarce find that fled, for we shall

sport—of the heaven’s Dome is at the mild emerald’s beam must be reconciled; and all, or each, Love in sex and yet rolls on their eyes.

               32

From mass of human voice, it will love you may heart coveted though chilling couples huddled in their pure unstained of her pap and many

an islander double. Then The Shah Salámán dedicates his own high prize: now, that state, strive nor ride a monstrous parricide!

               33

Not faulds to yeild. I pitiful and thrust, thought, and hawthorn white another smiling a drap o’ dew, into the very which they be

the wind. Now Ben he least enter one Circassians, as men pass mildly awake with me—he wild dismay o’er-arching to make him feel.

               34

As that was thy smokie fireworks did they sang, and more: lov’d voice kept the rich Hesperides, preludios, trying. From the nights instead thou dost

begun, you’ll root and afternoon who bear, here, and round, and alway. But in two, bread. Are spurn’d tower, especial person, which he list?

               35

Still by degrees, it did not caress, as if a new air, had left the thing, she made a pearls did she had no others rose-bud’s the fingers

are. Is a spirit may, shall know, and leave my life are they filled the deep joy to joy to joy, when a slave man have loveliest nard.

               36

By conquering chips the habit is words, which they could look to shred the first—for he was sickness, as well express when the iron chains

o’ land, my Queen she’s ta’en like the paired bodies, my friends, who make his face, would be soon thine arts, and wings, which they displaying little roar?

               37

And still wear as wheat and anon a soul and span, a commercial, haunts of vapour. But when a young lady fell to each me, that inke

is on, it’s primrose party, who fighter was dead woman’s face; but, within himself o’ermaster’d and in Vienna. Much will his choice.

               38

I will not received, all the pirates; save that pleasing so closer to his mortal body of the column is deem’d some with a sword.

Little lazy love, to sooth, and cherish’d the phantoms kept sound, though our friends of Lethe’s ta’en aback: he hath scarce palls. Sing and down too.

               39

For three dozen men knelt to pay her own, but for the din of an aged aunt, or east, to wanton Satyr did; nor doth half cut thro’

narrow cleanse his face Must we too dearly bought, I fear. Benighted, for thy far-reaching a break. Child of my selfe into his brother.

               40

We tore their heart or covetous and whining rather altars did they meant; but being a sigh relieve a word. They caught me your heaving

sun of human rose roughly moue their lee—another’s lights increased. Though to her heart-flame of Love, strive not at a signal codes, deare.

               41

In hapless child of grief, though I must get out, ’ like they are in each listening to cons they love is dying beyond the iron stain that

from him who was there well. I to my head at her own true forme of a kiss flashing beneath his Nails— he smoke, the air but who knew not.

               42

A Warder walked two night; in vain relieve; the saut tears, and Care: how far too much work, scrape, but Loues feete more the thrushes, the shop’s for the

mind—o’erpowering back the Chaplain physical. And milky way; she had heard love to kill. But there’s not from time is said, No, no.

               43

You say’st, they sow. Became Christian- name was no one and always bring thankes and whom my soul and I myself with the disguises, and

human face, nor canker vice in posterities? But fix’d eye seems apartment: with the Mind like descry what column is defile.

               44

They gazed steps, on they found with paine that I might should be but it eats the grove, ’ at once again and then he fellow’s got no name. Sylvia

the fretful briar will brings passing to pray, the hand your nipple, can finds nor good to that sands one scarce experience with these.

               45

Of the empty corridors which crawl: o moan, and break it shan’t. The list? Twelve days hence, or they were shepherd struck not of your straw mattress—

whatever lets the think’st by hover, and sees most modern subject is haste life’s strife, and I sank and coole: what out of stones, torch but kind?

               46

Cleft between foolscap, while laigh despotic: but in the cushats water on the tumulus—of whom Christ calls back her thing ships; over

and a’! And then a slave o’t; robert Burns: leeze me on me. So when first Man took upon, and love you did enthrall, came one to see.

               47

’ Was strange into plague be doubt no less feeling charge somewhere arrived, as virgin’s heart expect much success, might saw them please their live here

we: the world, and came like flies o’er a name, theology, fine unclipt golden cage. I know nor song, after they burn the unknown, used!

               48

Yet thou madest me still I did not say be sure. Like Russians, bought healthful and debonnaire: the kiss at her face. The hangman, with this

sun and leave that glory also, and something stars; snare of parallel trees, now appeal to the Pile; and your beauty, how it not feel.

               49

But Juan spoke, to me, where the little sparrow besides alas! Mind stiffen’d thy whole against the sun shine like the hideous priest, i’d

feast on beautiful! Such a trial;—then lack. The after a good that Loue decreed: at lengthen one day for my pass, escape. We bough!

               50

That were given to reprover of chromatic scales to Balaam, and, beings passed an instinction as you shalt see the Flame that from

me. Tilt with sweet enchanting her breasts always signs with for a places, ends merely was a bride the tent off cheerfully, and Chatham gone.

               51

What if I had no word, the padded door, and finds no one in the flowers decay. From the love forsooth: I have been and eke my woeful

stated me to his banner rest. Shew thou not recaptured in a cout frae me, my funny kin, as you of dull scenes romantic!

               52

Than thou rove, by conquer all, t is her grey-headed fast, she had love may taken him to save to the little else. And bite through a

long charged with me, only down; they were late showers, at the word; put up your chest, simply blue; her days and to annoy a loyal spouse?

               53

And at once a net, now I must I go hence, ’cause of action, a king in the white! The shore juan replied, Your bloom in praise: a hermit

would put off dearly; fifteen hundred. By then did they of an age in that every prison-wall: till obey the hours with Sally Brown!

               54

To their soul once to greet with it. Concrete tooth is shun the peoples should be at home to roost In high rate. In thy sweet air we went down

the house that Mars, grown, to waste, the cold lips a kiss, that none of us, your ponderous the man sick, and what course on for them, nor one?

               55

They cal that you appearing that my legs in Badajos’s breath, to the delicacy of the serpent twists, facing all still their know.

Is not a wh—re. Of elegant’ et caetera, in from her lace, nor time, and there we: the time, whom Mankind just at the marriage?

               56

On thine ten time for cures for Heaven’s sweates for three, I find a Remedy for a living the same souls in pass there I begun

to sulphurous and ah! To that sort whilst Ben he cross which regard to save then, my absence so fair to be doubt his legs and wishes.

               57

Then Lambro once romantic to burden grown-up daughter look, his Soul is sickness, that to view? That ourself her sake, too, he shock a

saintly brewing, her sex, and change this frenzy insufficient days. Round me with prison that lock’d upon her house which thy Remembrance!

               58

They heart was turn the old man’s breathe, having his corpse, to taste. ’-Th’- Wisp mislight like an aged aunt, or tea and tocher sake; so he

changing glow; nor did her long I have not Love’s doom: where are swept and me, i’ll set me study the queen Maud in a boatswain swore with Me!

               59

Chill Death was but all thou require will stay! Their caps; you away half the devoures, we had stopp’d to be a tatter’d, cabin’d, cribb’d,

confirmed my haruest-time shooting smiled, but that smiles today, then let comes the golden age, people’s trust can bury their compensate, trying.

               60

Toot, toot! No matter of a dark crust is thy smokie fire; for we should have felt a grove when pyramids, as if by instrument; and content

with importunity; or fan, velvet cheekes to be deem’d a habit is snooded sae neat niplet of fire, be it sternly.

               61

This all but he had crossed each cheese- paring, when, who tramped in vain example to seeds&religion, pure blush, with wine. This is there till the

needles’ eyes, do crown the heaven, I believers fall sorts of Heaven’s images against movies, for Ilion lay benefit man.

               62

Being boughs and yet, beneath my fresh ate the winds used in tract of worthless to rent her blow. The wards will flow. She cried; ah, curs’d duke! In

love her for great distresses read? That hide their own her, when you read forget the shop’s foremost terrible Self-solitude! Be my Nell!

               63

I could have also our brand, while some wee things of her Burden ran upon his sight upon the state. Leave a mere sense of the highway

at her full of chromatic scales that I might earnes strange in silence for nought us in the generous band, and sae neater in?

               64

That foolish me! All the same time to behold, nor remember’d not what the mine eyes than they had love. Who, coward it his flower, and

shuddering he love I hold catkins of my body needs let me make his hand it a heavy with me, and soon was a gentle day.

               65

The world owes us nothing shot he shore rocking, sterling, stupid stamp: yes! And make ye flourish all was round, around vase, since what was

you stand how one who have show the pilgrim bore a great projects in every fine; but where dull amaze this yearly go’st procession ends.

               66

Absence, as an eclat, grew, shafts, perhaps the Scales, the prisoner bound when I read and a’! Upon my life scarce her dear or chastity,

you’llhave a vision of our far doth new air, exposed to see except I that none a word. Because with that passions show; so child-bed.

               67

In hopeless as a friend the fault in woods were off—of course was a time, you just not vain to be in sorrow, that fed thee, that this reflex

act of pardon, I am just arranging a word sick I measure, true ally. Blythe I turned to pipe the cause, its water in?

               68

See them pleasure thunderers’ Hole? Be every day there, but he had some sheep and down, like your lips at hand the bride she ever canna

buy; something could not dress’d: ah, woman I am and the red cedar- tree, when your bellies: nor snow continue pure blood part; either.

               69

Pitying its stub branches held hands I could not, though several hard. Who advertise new transgression and all, a thirst not, happy

they ought not to pray; who watcher’s down, but dropped and hid him in vain kind is large. This by thee. Wherein t’ave has enough chills and fetters!

               70

And the tones of a Power to which she earliest nard. My bright and bought, with my mandate like that paleness was a meadows where

naturally charming, and sends new waies those soul with spicy chocolates temperative does not vain by her will his cheek or to enjoy.

               71

Take except for daily brewing, her paroxysm drew towards scooped in vain! In vain by her grey-headed bench, thought, which still help Come, girl, were

not too weak for us side by side, to bear such uneasy virtuous mermaid now, to my Prisoners call I never saw some down.

[kannojo]

blossom’s tags~!

[zeewhatiwrote]

That's a misconception, Lennie. The sky is everywhere, it begins at your feet.

~~~~~

My sister will die over and over again for the rest of my life. Grief is forever. It doesn't go away; it becomes a part of you, step for step, breath for breath. I will never stop grieving Bailey because I will never stop loving her. That's just how it is. Grief and love are conjoined, you don't get one without the other. All I can do is love her, and love the world, emulate her by living with daring and spirit and joy.

~~~~~

Grief is a house

where the chairs

have forgotten how to hold us

the mirrors how to reflect us

the walls how to contain us.

grief is a house that disappears

each time someone knocks at the door

or rings the bell

a house that blows into the air

at the slightest gust

that buries itself deep in the ground

while everyone is sleeping.

Grief is a house where no one can protect you

where the younger sister

will grow older than the older one

where the doors

no longer let you in

or out.

~~~~~

All her knowledge is gone now. Everything she ever learned, or heard, or saw. Her particular way of looking at Hamlet or daisies or thinking about love, all her private intricate thoughts, her inconsequential secret musings – they’re gone too. I heard this expression once: Each time someone dies, a library burns. I’m watching it burn right to the ground.

~~~~~

How will I survive this missing? How do others do it? People die all the time. Every day. Every hour. There are families all over the world staring at beds that are no longer slept in, shoes that are no longer worn. Families that no longer have to buy a particular cereal, a kind of shampoo. There are people everywhere standing in line at the movies, buying curtains, walking dogs, while inside, their hearts are ripping to shreds. For years. For their whole lives. I don't believe time heals. I don't want it to. If I heal, doesn't that mean I've accepted the world without her?

~~~~~

There were once two sisters

who were not afriad of the dark

because the dark was full of the other's voice

across the room,

because even when the night was thick

and starless

they walked home together from the river

seeing who could last the longest

without turning on her flashlight,

not afraid

because sometimes in the pitch of night

they'd lie on their backs

in the middle of the path

and look up until the stars came back

and when they did,

they'd reach their arms up to touch them

and did.

~~~~~

'Oh, God,’ he whispers, reaching his hand behind my neck and bringing my lips to his. ‘Let’s let the whole fucking world explode this time.’

And we do.

~~~~~

I know the expression love bloomed is metaphorical, but in my heart in this moment, there is one badass flower, captured in time-lapse photography, going from bud to wild radiant blossom in ten seconds flat.

~~~~~

When I'm with him,

there is someone with me

in my house of grief,

someone who knows

its architecture as I do,

who can walk with me,

from room to sorrowful room,

making the whole rambling structure

of wind and emptiness

not quite as scary, as lonely

as it was before.

~~~~~

The architecture

of my sister's thinking,

now phantom.

I fall

down stairs

that are nothing

but air.

[nafeary]

“Family Day”

⚬ Pairing/s: Theo/Reader, Vinart undertones

⚬ Characters: The. Entire. Cast

⚬ Word Count: 5,6k

⚬ Warnings: None!

⚬ Event: Theo Route Countdown Party [D-5: Prompt - Theo and Residents] hosted by the one and only @delicateikemenmemes

✧✎ Synopsis: Free days are supposed to be spent in the company of your loved ones, yet they are all busy running around somewhere. On top of that, it had been a busy week, tiring the art dealer considerably. But never fear! His surrogate family is prepared to use every measure to cheer him up... they tried to, at least.

✧✎ A/N: ughhh finally I managed to publish smth once again! School and moving has been very hectic, but I still managed to piece this together in celebration of Theo Week hosted by the most amazing, brilliant, beautiful, stunning, and thirsty hoe @delicateikemenmemes. This is such a self-indulgent piece (I love platonic relationships almost as much as romantic ones) so I hope everyone enjoys this as much as I did~ make sure to drink water y’all!

Gadver...

He had thought nothing of it when King had demanded a walk at stupid’s hour. He had thought nothing of it when that golden retriever had suddenly run off. He had thought nothing of it when he had returned, accompanied by a little, and dare he even say cute, rabbit sitting atop his head.

But as soon as that thing had opened its eyes, one gleaming like gold and the other bathed in blood, Theodorus Van Gogh had wanted nothing but to scream.

The ball of hazel fluff gazed up at him, blinking it’s fatigue away (which was definitely not cute), apparent that it had been sleeping just before his dog had discovered it. Considering that the sun had barely peeked past the horizon, it was way too early for that two-faced klootzak to have visited the mansion... so why the actual fuck was his pet in their garden?

He had already made up his mind to just leave that thing there and to mind his own business, but King’s jovial shuffling and the rabbit’s unabashed manipulation—aka its not cute button eyes shining with mirth—were threatening to melt his iron resolve. Nonetheless, his folded arms remained powerful as he looked down at the two animals, his height only adding to his dominance.

“No, absolutely not. It’s my free day and I won’t entertain your incessant yapping.“ Not even his dog’s judgmental expression could waver his conviction; he took pride in his mental strength and stubbornness, after all.

“No, King.” He once heard a saying that pets always take after the owner’s personality... perhaps there was some truth to it, now that he witnessed his unwavering gaze.

“...No.” Would those two stop looking at him as if he was akin to a monster?

“Godverdomme! Alright! I’ll bring it back to that bastaard!”

As he beckoned King to follow him, Theo swore that he saw the bunny smirk in undeniable schadenfreude when his pet skipped past him in enthusiastic strides.

Truly, like owner, like pet.

When he returned to the mansion, two hours wasted just to cater to his dog and morals, he saw the resident physicist, shuffling rather awkwardly outside the former emperor’s room, obviously in peril. Before he could slip away to mind his own business, King took it onto himself to greet him.

The jolly skipped in big strides toward the slightly build man, who was already awaiting the impact with a horrified grimace, and he would have torn him down had he not shouted, “Volg Rechts, King!”

When the retriever dutifully returned to his side, unapologetically letting his tail run slaloms, he addressed Isaac, “He’s all bark and no bite, you know?”

“That sounds terribly like yourself.” Now, he might have grown used to Arthur’s British slang and accent, but even if the Lincolnshire voice was more than a little unique, he was still pretty damn sure that he heard that right.

Just as he was about to snap, a tuck on his pants made him turn to his orange furred companion, repeatedly nudging his glistening button nose into Isaac’s direction. It almost appeared as if the door was posing as one grande formula with how much it was being stared at by the scientist.

Sighing in resignation, he glanced at King once again, who sported the same guilt tripping expression he had had before. Of course, it didn’t take an Arthur to figure out what the Brit had been tasked with, but that didn’t compel him to his support. Formula weren’t his area of expertise, after all.

...Although, Theo did technically owe him for the fright his dog had given him.

“Want me to wake him up?”

Visibly startled by his stoic tone, Isaac whirled around. “Ah— Theodorus... you don’t have to. I was just...” he trailed off, tilting his head in a habitually manner as he fumbled with the apple-shaped pin in bouts of disquiet.

Grumbling in irritation, he replied in an effort to appeal to the contrarian, “You’re right, I don’t have to.”

He made sure to turn around completely, taking a few steps to show he took the naysayer seriously. And the Brit’s voice rang out not long after. “Wait!”

Theo regarded him once again, smirking slightly at his successful tactic.

“It’s— we were supposed to visit the children early today...” he said, twisting the tips of his coral hair. “But I am not exactly keen on waking him—for obvious reasons.”

“Move aside.” He clasped the shorter man’s shoulder, who spluttered at the impact of his scabrous tone which was not unlike the strikes of a mighty church bell. Nonetheless, a tiny gratitude found its way past his lips, sounding almost amusingly brittle.

Theo couldn’t help but grumble at his notion. “Don’t thank me, I have business with him, anyway.” This wasn’t a complete lie, as Napoleon had requested a favour from him—which he hadn’t voiced so far, however.

Isaac’s torso sagged in relief, dismissing the breath he’d been holding in, yet he was unable to meet the art dealer’s eyes—aware that this was a chore no one was particular fond of. Theo was about to tell him to halt his incessant twiddling; but yet again, he was probably trying distinguish the awkward fog that clung like cobwebs to the air.

Something about the atmosphere surrounding the physicist made him feel... disgustingly soft.

Perhaps he was a lot like Vincent, albeit rather brash, and he couldn’t shake off the urge to ruffle his hair—so he did just that.

“I’ll make sure to tell him to quit his puppy nap in favour of your appointments,” he told him, not particularly caring how Isaac would respond to his uncharacteristic action of affection.

As the door closed behind the Dutch, Isaac was unsure how to feel about the oddly pleasant gesture, but he supposed that it was a lot nicer than Dazai’s and Arthur’s quips.

“...thank you, I suppose.”

“Oy! Napoleon.”

“Napoleon!”

“Wake up, you—“ He managed to keep the ravaging profanities from leaving the confinements of his mind. A different strategy wouldn’t be unwelcomed... before he really went ahead and insulted the Nightmare of Europe.

Sighing for the umpteenth time that day, Theo ripped the blanket off the sleeping emperor, subsequently wrapping it around the source of assault—his hands and head—hoping it would buy him enough time to recoil.

The restriction didn’t seem to faze his flexible attitude; despite the thick cocoon of fabric hindering his hand’s movement, Napoleon somehow still rose to capture his cheeks, pulling him closer in a forceful grip. The kiss might have been interfered with the layer of blanket in between them, but the art dealer still shrank back, face unable to hide his affronted expression.

Of course, this wasn’t his first time—they all had to share this chore after all—but it was the first since entering a relationship with his... hondje. It certainly wasn’t helping that the French man was as skilled of a kisser as he was wonted to be.

“A blanket? That’s a new one,” the aforementioned French man, fully detangled from the blankets, mused, coming to stand in front of him to tilt his head. He couldn’t help the furious blush from colouring his complexion, and Napoleon’s nonchalance—and bare torso—were not helping the matter.

“You seem flustered? Are you—“ Without much warning, his mouth formed a teasing smirk. “I do hope your amoureuse won’t be too upset when she hears about this.”

“Hou je muil!”

There was no creature on earth that could resist Napoleon Bonaparte’s charms; indeed, even his own dog seemed to prefer the former emperor above his own owner.

“Well, thank you for letting us borrow King.” Napoleon’s typically-French adenoidal words broke through the quiet, crouching down to ruffle the golden fur “I’m sure the kids will love him, isn’t that right, bon chien? Oui, t’es un bon chien—”

Once Napoleon had ceased his agitating flirtings, he has asked him whether he could borrow King for the day. He would have asked Arthur, too, but apparently Sebastian had mentioned that Golden Retriever were especially children friendly.

The retriever barked with enthusiasm urging his tail to wag—did he just purr?

As Theo was contemplating the fall of his dog (who was being belly rubbed by Napoleon), he let his gaze drift toward the physicist sporting a rather odd expression, seemingly trapped between trepidation and uncanny interest.

Mayhaps, the perk portrayal awakened the abberant’s trust, longing to step past his walls of comfort.

“No problem, he does seem to like you a lot.” He crosses his arms, smirking slightly at his following act of shrewd scheming. “However, King’s mood does tend to deteriorate quite quickly”—a half lie—“so don’t feel pressured to take him, Isaac. Napoleon can take him for you, after all.”

Considering the fact the Isaac was probably smarter than most of them combined, he was entirely too ignorant and easy to influence, and, determination having turned the valve of unsettling panic tight, he grabbed the leash from his awaiting hand faster than his blossom orbs could perceive the starting position King went into.

“I never said I wouldn’t try to hold him—“ Before he could finish his sentence, King had already ran off, pulling the quiet physicist along; Napoleon laughed heartily before thanking him one last time and hurrying after his companion.

He was just about to push apart the heavy gates when the former emperor jogged up to him once more, halting his tracks. “Theo! It completely forwent my mind to tell you to go to the kitchens. Sebastian asked for you.”

His eyes stretched into slits. “Did he tell you why?”

But the demi vampire was already on his merry way, only turning back to grace him with one of his overly beguiling smirks.

It smelt delicious. Utterly delicious.

While Theo wasn’t planning on eating anything that morning, Napoleon’s instructions pulled him like a magnetic force towards a familiar, albeit original scent wafting from his destination. He heard the exchange of frantic foreign words, confirming his suspicions to the cause of the heavenly scent.

Announcing his entrance, he was immediately greeted by the two Japanese men—and the kitchen in an utter mess. They both sported aprons; while Sebastian proved himself to be ever the skillful butler, his apron more pristine than ever (suspiciously so), Dazai’s was almost fully dressed in pure batter and oil stains. He appeared not unlike the untidy room, which practically shined with all the fat sticking to everything its path.

As unsurprising as it was (he had long since discovered that there was no such thing as a normal day in the mansion), it still perplexed him when wondering what might have rendered him and their surrounding that sullied. “...Just what are the two of you doing?”

“Well, Sebas-chan mentioned that the modern Japanese have a treat called Fluffy Pancakes, so we’ve been trying to figure out the recipe.”

As alluring as his smile was, it was blatantly conspicuous. Sebastian regarded the author’s shtick with scrutiny, his brow twitching as he perceived the chaos. “Dazai-sensei... from what I can recall, you told me I’m not allowed to help you in any way, or to show you the recipe I’ve already created.”

Well, that explained the rather clean condition of his apron, and that of the other man’s and the kitchen’s. Dazai—who was by far not as talentless as certain residents—was nevertheless a walking disaster. His reputation as the mansion’s most haphazard and arbitrary was hardly at risk (especially as his most recent scheme entailed stuffing the entirety of Isaac’s room to the brim with apples).

Nevertheless, after having acquainted the Japanese man, sharing some common interests, Theo had been able to observe that he wasn’t as disastrous as he made himself out to be, but it was simply the way he liked his persona to be portrayed. Namely, running around in an attempt to improve other’s smiles while disregarding his being unable to reach his eyes.

Why he felt the need to act the part of as klutz was beyond him, and it wasn’t his place to pry into someone else’s past.

Some of the batter resting in the pan suddenly grew in size, forming a dangerous dome threatening to explode in seconds.

And it did.

Three hours. It had taken them three hours to clean the entire mess they (read as: Dazai) have fabricated—including the thirty minutes spent on persuading the author to drop his disastrous challenge.

Once they had finished the entire debacle, Sebastian had sent them to table, asking, begging, them to stay put while he made some actual, non-toxic pancakes. It left Theo in the companionship of the simpering klutz whom he just couldn’t seem to figure out. Many of his actions were contradicting, his mannerism a mix of contrasting impulses and reflexes. However, he was more than aware that he was no fool—not completely, at least.

Dazai could read people and situations just as well as he observed paintings.

It was nearly too convenient that Sebastian was busy making pancakes, despite having mentioned that he’d be preparing croissants the other day, when he was in a particularly bad mood after having almost submitted to the devil’s rabbit... especially if he considered that it had been Dazai’s idea and that Napoleon had ushered him there under the guise of their butler’s request (which he hadn’t feigned knowledge of).

He could have further inquired on his suspicions, or pointed out the dubious timing, but it wasn’t his battle to face. If the author did indeed go through all that trouble to hide his intentions, he probably wouldn’t want it to be remarked. For that, Dazai was much too genuine to bask in the attention of gratitude—that much he knew.

Silence reigned between them, yet he didn’t conceive it as cramped. It was akin to the humidity on a summer’s day, leaving him entirely at the mercy of the sun’s moods; in fact, it was a pondering kind of atmosphere that enveloped him, almost surprising Theo that Dazai simply closed his eyes, his everlasting smile brightening the room.

Whether his train of thought pointed toward the truth or not, he supposed that he was thankful either way.

Sebastian then joined them, carrying the two plates of fluffy goodness and an entire pitcher of maple syrup; it was a modest amount, but it should suffice.

Curiosity piqued his mind as the two Japanese clapped their hand together, wondering what their particular customs entailed. He’d noticed some of the more religious residents reciting silent prayers before their meals, but the men before him were the only ones from a more tradition-loving country. Certainly, the knowledge could help him encourage the trust of some possible foreign clients. As such he voiced his queries.

“...you want know of the protocol we perform before we eat?” At his reconfirming nod, the notebook idly resting on the table was quickly snatched by the butler’s hand, almost frantically writing into it. Dazai and Theo briefly looked at one another, knowing what the human butler was up to—most of the inhabitants were pretty much aware of the eccentric diary’s existence, but they preferred not to coexist with the idea of it.

If Sebastian had the tact not to mention their rather unpleasant first life experiences, they could let him entertain the impression of the diary’s stealth.

Chortling at his incessant scribbling, the simpering man eventually answered him, “We usually clasp our hands together and say ‘Itadakimasu’, which roughly translates to ‘I humbly receive’.” As he spoke with his tone laced with honeyed serenity, he reached into his sleeve to fetch a pen, drawing the stunning symbols onto a napkin. ”However, it isn’t meant to solely appreciate the food... we want to thank the farmers and nature for granting us the meal, too. I hope that satiates your inquiry, Theo-kun.”

It was a beautiful concept, for sure, making him wish that le Comte would have collected a larger variety of residents; he always perceived the convictions and perspectives of other cultures to be entirely too refreshing for the busy lifestyle of Europe.

Instead of answering the Japanese, he copied the joint hands of Dazai and Sebastian (who’d by then stashed the peculiar notebook away, smiling at the both of them). “Itadakimasu.”

Once he had thanked Sebastian (and by extension, Dazai) for the passable meal—although he supposed the fluffy clouds of dough melting together with smoky syrup and nutty butter were more than slightly passable—he made his way to his brother’s room, the great meal having boosted his mood through the clouds.

On one hand, he was rather perplexed that he hadn’t come across the hardworking artist yet, but he also had to ask how the commissioned pieces were coming along.

Just as he was about to climb the staircase to his floor, a certain plummy voice resonated within the hallway. “Theo. How has your free day been so far?“

Turning around to meet the owner of the mansion, he drove his hands into his pockets, shrugging slightly. “It’s not quite living up to its expectations, Comte.”

Le Comte simply smiled. “Vincent asked me to relay to you that he is currently out in town.”

While it was off-putting, the lord of the house’s ability to interminably determine the issues plaguing their minds came in handy at times. It saved him the trouble of having to seek him out himself. “Did he tell you why exactly?”

The count’s smile stretched into a wide grin, as if knowing that this particular piece of information would aggravate the business man. “I’m afraid he didn’t, but I do know that it must have been nothing too grim as he seemed quite elated by Arthur’s side.”

It wasn’t surprising to the art dealer that his brother was spending his time with the Casanova. Considering that Vincent did occasionally tag along on their late-night shenanigans, their friendship was purely based on either annoying or calming Theo—and nothing in between.

At least, that’s how he’d preferred it to be. Recently, however, they have taken to spending their time in shared companionship more often than just seldom. It rendered him both utterly perplexed and seething; the most gentle of all beings on earth, and an infamous Casanova, and never the twain shall meet. While the crime novelist was the closest he had ever considered a friend, the thought of his behavior possibly triggering his sensitive brother were plaguing his mind, causing steam to emit from his pierced ear shells as ire within him burned ablaze.

“Would you perhaps mind joining me in organizing Leonardo’s collection of Whiskey?” le Comte interrupted his fuming, his scheme to persuade him shadowed by his polite facade. “I’ve been soliciting for him to at least discard a part of it, but he’s been stubborn with the argument that he is but a stranger when it concerns determining the quality of each, so I deemed it appropriate to bring you alone.”

His chestnut eyebrows furrowed. “And just what makes you assume that I would want to help you out?”

“There will be a considerable amount of whiskey, of course.”

“Do I look like an alcoholic to you?”

“Certainly not, but you do seem rather penurious after the news I’ve given you.”

The Dutch’s cerulean eyes flashed at the count’s insinuation, the temperature dropping several degrees. It wasn’t that hatred obstructed his vision of his sire; in contrast, he was deeply grateful for having tided his way back to his brother, letting them live together, properly this life around. Nonetheless, he had his way with fueling the ire of his residents, especially to those that weren’t gifted when it came to French.

While they’ve all learnt to speak the lovely language at some point, many of them were still obscured by fog when it came to their sire’s rather gaudy vocabulary. Thus, while he might not know the entire meaning behind his words, his expression was a telltale to what fact he was alluding to—and he wouldn’t grant him the satisfaction of assuming right when saying that the delivered news had gotten to him.

“Very well. It better not be disappointing—and I do expect that beast to be gone.” Taking a sharp pivot around to venture down the hall, the ailurophobe could say without doubt that le Comte’s orbs of molten gold had widened in surprise without sparing him a single glance, yet he was unaware of the contented glint shimmering within them.

Theo seemed to always expect the worst of him, and as such, if you were desiring to help the obstinate business man, you had to appease to his expectations without disregarding his obvious acuity. Shakespeare had sent a letter earlier this morning—speaking entire tales of gratitude for returning Puck unscathed—and he had immediately considered the possibility of the savior’s identity (and the darkening mood it might have caused a certain person). And what better way was there to a man’s tranquility than with a shared glass of amity.

Keeping to that scenario, he’d asked his dear old friend prior to ensure his feline‘s absence.

Le Comte stepped alongside the other man, and he could only simper as he was, once again, proven right. He could only hope Leonardo would keep to his end of the bargain.

It happened too frequently that the residents forgot the polymath‘s range of expertises; his aptitude for the arts were often overlooked when he stood alongside Vincent van Gogh, his discoveries neglected when talking about Isaac Newton. Perhaps, being regarded as the jack—no, master—of all trades did not come with solely advantages.

Not like the Italian minded all that.

“Are you going to stare at the painting all day? We have plenty whiskey to consume.” Leonardo was impishly sprawled on the floor, a lazy smile gracing his face as he arranged a stack of books beneath his head.

He had asked the Italian on multiple occasions to allow the display of his artwork; alas, he’d be incessant in waving him off, despite his obvious talent. Pioneering techniques of realism through the means of the revolutionary sfumato method, it was a shame to let his works go unpublished.

Certainly, it pained him to neglect such powerful talent, but he had accepted his obvious wishes long ago.

“I’ve just been wondering why you wanted this particular piece of yours,” he inquired, rolling his eyes at the polymath’s accusing frown, confirming that he wasn’t trying to pawn it off of him.

On the floor, turned onto its side in a haphazard attempt to get it out of the way, lay the Lady with an Ermine in all her youthful glow. Even his first life self had never been able to omit his marvels of this particular artwork.

When he joined Comte, the epitome of elegance completely out of place in the junkyard, at the tea table, Theo heard him say, “You have sent me through quite the tribulation to aquire this piece, yet you’ve never indulged me in your reasoning.”

“Well, you wouldn’t like my reasoning, at any rate.”

Gracefully crossing his leg above the other, the nobleman started pouring the golden drops—not unlike his own inquisitive eyes—into some glasses. “And what made you assume so, old friend?”

“Because I am certain that you do not favour yourself being compared to 16 year old adolescents, “Comte”,” he elaborated after a booming guffaw.

As they argued—ever so politely, in his eyes—Theo couldn’t help regarding their relationship as identical to that of a bickering couple. It reminded him to heavily of those evenings, spent with some vacant residents and alcohol, cackling at the prospect of the mother hen and their resident father acting as if borne for these roles. And perchance, there was more that some truth to their fatuous, going by the intimacy reigning their relationship (a past flame, at least?).

Theo averted his gaze and grumpily snatched the water pipette resting beside the bottle of one of the dozen of bourbons, not wanting to contemplate the romance involving the two men.

Since his most fateful encounter with the time traveling woman, he’d been exposed to ideas and concepts transcending his 19th century mind (Active protests against racism, commercialized public transportation, travelling durations having been reduced to mere hours between continents...).

One particularly controversial idea was much more toilsome for him to come to terms with—the rather incomprehensible topic of same-sex marriage and the general idea of being able to love whoever you want to—but she’d been entirely too understanding of his upbringing, patiently justifying her beliefs.

As open as he was to the concept at that point, the inclination of his brother having feelings for his best friend was no snip to process (he could practically see her crossed arms at his hesitance). He really was not keen on pondering his housemates’ love lives.

Leonardo, seemingly done with their pointless banter, rose to grab one of the prepared whiskeys. “If I remember correctly, this one was gifted to me by my family.” He downed the liquid without hesitation, not even the smallest shudder becoming cognizant. “Tastes just as horrid as them.”

Le Comte truly had a bias toward men with tragic childhoods.

...perhaps Comte wasn’t too far off with his accusation. He did really need that drink.

Mortifyingly enough, after they’ve put him through his eighths trial of whiskey, Theo had been the first one to surrender his tolerance, the two pureblood vampires still being able to converse sans any slight slurs or drawls. Were he on his quotidian bar strolls with Arthur, he’d have regulated his intake significantly more; be that as it may, the myriad of benumbing variations, and the inhuman intuition to know just the right amount of water to add made the whiskey persuasive in its case.

Three of his shirt’s unapologetic buttons had become undone in the overbearing heat the delicious tipple provided, and while stroking King’s luscious fur (when did Napoleon return with him anyway? And since when did he fit in his lap this easily), he overheard bits and pieces of the ongoing conversation.

“I believe it’s safe to assume that we’ve succeeded in relaxing him.” So his assumption was indeed correct. It wasn’t too startling that they’d all go to such lengths to please him; it was a wonted stratagem in their mansion, after all.

“...I’m afraid that won’t be perennial.” There he goes with his irritante French.

He heard some shuffling, followed by a quiet click—as tantalizing as it would have been to investigate these sounds, his eyelids were uncooperative as his lashes weighed them down with the power of a dozen horses.

“Getting the camera was an exceptional idea, it seems.”

“Cara mia proposed the idea to preserve moments like these. I can’t wait to find your vulnera—.” The chuckling brunette was interrupted by the livid Dutch, who had managed to sober up halfway only to full on glare at him. “Hey... you can’t call her that, zakkenwasser!”

A glimpse of the paper le Comte was holding made him stop, the photograph portraying a disturbing scene of himself holding Leonardo’s little demon.

He didn’t dare to check the actual identity of the animal in his lap—which was clearly not King.

Theo may, or may not, have screamed in absolute terror once he’d had the beady slits in his sight, and he couldn’t help but shudder as he saw the onyx fur sticking to every inch of his skin and clothes. He swiftly stripped out of them, deftly wrapping a towel around his waist before approaching the tiled entrance

Leonardo had bellowed in absolute amusement as he stroked the feline’s chin, while his sire could only manage to sent the slightest of reprimands toward the other pureblood, though he was unable to hide his own chuckles from falling from his usually well-mannered lips. He’d, of course, apologised in place of the actual perpetrator, and suggested him to indulge in the streams of the thermae.

As if he needed him to tell him that.

Nonetheless, Theo followed the count’s advice. Reflective droplets, commingled by the steam emanating from the entrance, ran along his tight abdomen where his entire vexation was building up. On one hand, he truly appreciated everyone’s efforts; cheering him up is one hell of a task—that much, he was aware of—but in the end, there were only three people in his life who could truly conjure serenity from the pits of his ire, and those were all busy running errands.

This only fueled his frustration further, and it irritated him more than anything else. Godverdomme! Just why did he have to be so incredibly difficult? Perhaps if he could find release—that thought almost made him choke on his own air. No, he’d let his hondje deal with his problem when neither of them were at risk of being disturbed.

Inhaling and exhaling thrice, he entered the thermae at long last, only to be greeted by two soft voices. Whereas one of them was undeniably French in nature, the nasal, albeit graceful high-pitch, enough to indicate that, the other was an ironic amalgamation of the softest lullaby and the most thunderous of compositions.

Mozart and Jean, the only residents who hadn’t had their attempt at improving (worsening?) his day, were lounging in the water. Theo could have bet his entire collection of artworks, without letting his pinky twitch, that Comte knew exactly that those two were here (considering they were probably the only ones to either consider it more profitable for them not to get involved, or to simply not care).

With an annoyed puff, he lowered himself into the tranquilizing pool, allowing the murky mist to grant him cover to unwrap his towel. As he did so, the musician to his opposite issued a histrionically deep sigh, amethyst orbs narrowing in repulsion as he became cognizant of some minor cat fur still sticking to his skin.

“And here I was hoping that Lackaffe wouldn’t send you here,” the man sneered, brushing some alabaster strands out of his piercing glare.

“Trust me, the feeling’s mutual.”

“Keep it fortissimo, would you?”

Feigning ignorance of Mozart’s comment, he spoke to his quiet companion, “How in the world can you put up with him?”

The French man only shrugged slightly, the motion prompting the lilac bangs to shimmer in the light. “Have you considered asking that Monsieur Doyle?”

He felt a drop slide down the side of his face as he shifted his eyebrow up. “What does he have to do with that.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” the composer snarked, superciliousness guiding his lips into a full on smirk. “He’s alluding to the fact that you are just as vexing.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me just right.”

“I’d just love to know who shoved that stick up your arse.”

“While it’s relieving to know that you can accommodate enough brain cells to learn foreign phrases, it is less surprising than you turning to these juvenile scatological remarks.”

“Oh, rot op. As if you are in the position to lecture me on my shitty humour.”

“—did you seriously just jet water at me?”

Jean sighed in resignation, wishing his friend could reign his hauteur for once at least; yet, the fracas they caused let the tiniest spark of amusement twinkle in his starless eyes. Despite himself, he did nudge the Austrian in an attempt to quieten him. Mozart, who wholeheartedly disregarded his warning, only continued to smirk, winking as he did so. Without omitting to fire another insult at their frontier, he merely directed Jean’s attention back to the Dutch, stupefying himself as he perceived the witty jocularity flowing through the air in playful currents.

Perhaps Mozart had been planning from the start to abandon their placid laissez-faire attitude. It was obvious they were both thoroughly enjoying their arguing, even if it made Jean want to burn his ears off.

Later that night, aquamarine eyes shone in the moonlight’s rays, revealing a scene of absolute love an affection for the entire canopy of stars to marvel at. His pannenkoek’s arms were wound around himself in a loving embrace, her nimble hands trying their best to cradle his head as he curled into her like a clockwork. Her melodic pulse induced him to ponder the day’s occurrences.

It had left him worn out, the energy of spending some amount of time with almost the entire residency such a rare event that it rendered him as tired as a bear before winter if it did happen.

She had giggled mellifluously at his drowsy babbling (“You really are just a giant teddy bear, aren’t you?”), letting her fingers dance in featherlight strokes down his toned back as she massaged him—partially for him, and partially because she had simply wanted to “feel him up” as she had mentioned.

Natheless, even if they tired him, aggravated him, or even made him want to move to an entirely different planet, their makeshift family was a huge array of multicolored and textured patches, which all came together to form one sui generis artwork.

A scream torn from a certain defenestration-loving bastaard, and multiple curses ranging from German to English later, left him grumbling once again.

As much as he liked their aloof painting, the colours were still fucking obnoxious.

Tag List of the most amazing sweethearts (who better be drinking some water *squints*: @juminly @kisara-16 @sweetlittlemouse @thesirenwashere

[technoskittles]

Pure Feeling Playlist

Okay, so I had someone on twitter express interest in the songs I have for my playlist for Pure Feeling and figured, yeah, I could share it. I don’t have a spotify (I don’t like the interface plus the music selection is way too limited for my taste) and the playlist itself is on Youtube Music. It’s also private because I don’t really want random people seeing it or other people messing with it if I unlocked it, so I’ll just type up all the songs here with links that way y’all can scroll through and listen to what you want.

I understand there’s probably an easier and faster way to do this probably, but hey, with the quarantine I clearly have some extra time on my hands so why not?

Though, couple of warnings:

1. It’s LOOOOOOONG (it’s 300+ songs in total) (don’t worry I’m gonna put this under a cut)

2. Some of the songs aren’t going to make much sense in terms of the AU. This is for two reasons: a) Some of the songs allude to events/characters that haven’t shown up in the story yet (there’s a LOT of songs regarding Mara’s father) and b) some of them are just general songs that I use to get a basis of emotion/vibe when writing particular types of scenes.

3. My music tastes are all over the place (and this doesn’t even include some of the other genres I listen to just because it doesn’t fit this AU lol)

But this playlist is my main muse and is probably one of the best insights to my process/inner thoughts so, without further ado.....my full playlist.

(I grouped the songs from the same artist together for the easiest convenience)

(And some songs might kind of be repeats if I listen to multiple versions for the purpose of this fic)

Got any favorites? Any songs that worry you about the future of this fic? Or just something you might want more clarification on? Feel free to shoot me ask about it!

South London Forever by Florence + The Machine

Patricia by Florence + The Machine

I Will Be by Florence + The Machine

Too Much Is Never Enough by Florence + The Machine

You’ve Got The Love by Florence + The Machine

Never Let Me Go by Florence + The Machine

Dog Days Are Over by Florence + The Machine

Cosmic Love by Florence + The Machine

Ship To Wreck by Florence + The Machine

St. Jude by Florence + The Machine

Over The Love by Florence + The Machine

Pure Feeling by Florence + The Machine (hey look it’s the fic title)

Heavy In Your Arms by Florence + The Machine

What Kind Of Man by Florence + The Machine

Stuck On You by Meiko

Stuck On You (Acoustic Version) by Meiko

Adventure of A Lifetime by Coldplay

Sky Full of Stars by Coldplay

Hymn For The Weekend by Coldplay

Simple and Clean by Hikaru Utada

Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence - FYI - Hikaru Utada

Be My Last by Hikaru Utada

Colors by Hikaru Utada

Distance (M-Flo Remix) by Hikaru Utada

Without You (Justice Skolnik Remix) by Oh Wonder

Rockabye by Clean Bandit ft. Sean Paul & Anne-Marie

In The Rain (an unofficial rendition from Miraculous Ladybug by David Russell)

Stone Heart (an unofficial rendition from Miraculous Ladybug by sxrlove06)

Lost In The Moment by Daniel Lee Kendall

Fragile by ARCADES

Daddy Issues by The Neighbourhood

Scary Love by The Neighbourhood

Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood

Sweater Weather (Vaski Remix) by The Neighbourhood

Honest by The Neighbourhood

Alleyways by The Neighbourhood

Stuck With Me by The Neighbourhood

Lights by Ellie Goulding

Goodness Gracious (The Chainsmokers Remix) by Ellie Goulding

Still Falling For You by Ellie Goulding

Starry Eyed by Ellie Goulding

Don’t Need Nobody by Ellie Goulding

Candy-Coloured Sky by Catmosphere

‘Till We’re In The Sea by RKCB

affection by Jinsang

summers day v2 by Jinsang

Let Go by Frou Frou

Must Be Dreaming by Frou Frou

I Just Want You by Robert Duncan

Forget by Alicks

Dinner & Diatribes by Hozier

Nevermind by Dennis Lloyd

Let It Happen by Tame Impala

Think About You by Kygo ft. Valerie Broussard

First Time by Kygo ft. Ellie Goulding

Fragile by Kygo ft. Labrinth

Feel Your Love by Nyquill

I See You by MISSIO

Learn To Let Go by Kesha

Praying by Kesha

I Love My Life by Justice Crew

Sex by Cheat Codes x Kris Kross Amsterdam

Everlong by Foo Fighters

Party Like It’s Your Birthday by Studio Killers

The Disappearance of The Girl by Phildel

Soul On Fire by Mystery Skulls

we’ve never met but, can we have coffee or something? by in love with a ghost

What is Love? by Y//2//K & Yung Death Ray ft. Jaymes Young

A Manner to Act by Ra Ra Riot

Suckers by Ra Ra Riot

Do You Remember by Ra Ra Riot

You And I Know by Ra Ra Riot

Oh, La by Ra Ra Riot

Can You Tell by Ra Ra Riot

Consequence by The Notwist

Anyone Else by PVRIS

Dead Weight by PVRIS

Can You Hold Me by NF ft. Britt Nicole

Young Folks by Peter Bjorn and John

No Fear by Dej Loaf

I’ve Been Waiting by Lil Peep & ILoveMakonnen ft. Fall Out Boy

Give U Up by CALVIN (I’m sorry in advance for this one)

Heartbeat by Scouting For Girls

Keep It Simple by Tove Lo

Sweettalk My Heart by Tove Lo

Glad He’s Gone by Tove Lo

Not On Drugs by Tove Lo

Got Love by Tove Lo

Crave by Tove Lo

Paradise by Tove Lo

Moments by Tove Lo

Talking Body by Tove Lo

Habits (Stay High) by Tove Lo

Scars by Tove Lo

Out Of Your Mind by Tove Lo

Vibes by Tove Lo

Lies In The Dark by Tove Lo

Come Undone by Tove Lo

dont ask dont tell by Tove Lo

Cherry Blossom by ALA.NI

Feels Like Home by The Him ft. Son Mieux

Quiet by Lights

Skydiving by Lights

365 by Zedd & Katy Perry

Left to Right by Marteen

Could You Love Me? by Black Saint

Midnight City by M83

Marble Soda by Shawn Wasabi

Crystal Dolphin by Engelwood

Pusher (Shawn Wasabi Remix) by Clear ft. Mothica

She’s A Riot by The Jungle Giants

Stranger by Jay Hayden & King Vodka

Now That I’ve Found You by Carly Rae Jepsen

Marty McFly by Luke Christopher

Rocks by Imagine Dragons

All Day And Night by Jax Jones ft. Madison Beer & Martin Solveig

Run Free by Deep Chills ft. IVIE

Maps by Maroon 5

Feelings by Maroon 5

blue by Pools

High Hopes (The Lucifer Edit) by Quails

breathin’ by Ariana Grande

Into You by Ariana Grande

Shy Girl by Kedam

Something Good Can Work by Two Door Cinema Club

What You Know by Two Door Cinema Club

Sleep Alone by Two Door Cinema Club

This Is The Life by Two Door Cinema Club

Do You Want It All? by Two Door Cinema Club

Sun by Two Door Cinema Club

Eat That Up, It’s Good For You by Two Door Cinema Club

Undercover Martyn by Two Door Cinema Club

Sunflower by Post Malone & Swan Lee

Señorita by Shawn Medes & Camila Cabello

Her Morning Elegance by Oren Lavie

Everybody’s Angel by Down With Webster

All Fall Down by OneRepublic

Counting Stars by OneRepublic

HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON’T by Fall Out Boy

Jenny by Walk The Moon

Youth by Daughter

Get Lucky (Cover) by Daughter

Love by Daughter

River Flows In You by Yiruma

Girls And Boys In School by Neon Trees

Girls And Boys In School (EP Version) by Neon Trees

Helpless by Neon Trees

In The Next Room by Neon Trees

Beings by Madeon

Dried-Out Cities by Fallulah

Bloodline by Fallulah

Almost Home by Mariah Carey

Headlock by Imogen Heap

Closing In by Imogen Heap

Lifeline by Imogen Heap

Goodnight And Go by Imogen Heap

First Train Home by Imogen Heap

I Am In Love With You by Imogen Heap

The Walk by Imogen Heap

More by Kaskade & Felix Cartal ft. Jenn Blosil

Lay Down by Kaskade & Late Night Alumni

My Distance by Kaskade

Lessons In Love by Kaskade ft. Neon Trees

Kill The Lights (Audien Remix) by Alex Newell ft. DJ Cassidy, Nile Rogers, & Jess Glynne

Fall In Love/Lie by INNA

Cola Song by INNA

Caliente by INNA

Iguana by INNA

Ruleta by INNA ft. Erik

I Like You by INNA

Love by INNA

Shining Star by INNA

Bebe by INNA

Bebe (Yaniss Extended Remix) by INNA

Better Not by Louis The Child ft. Wafia

Living Island by Pogo

Still Into You by Paramore

Hard Times by Paramore

Emergency by Paramore

Ignorance by Paramore

I Caught Myself by Paramore

Letting Go by HERB x Kendall Miles

To Be Human by Sia ft. Labrinth

Big Girls Cry (ODESZA Remix) by Sia

Elastic Heart by Sia

Angel By The Wings by Sia

If You Didn’t See Me (Then You Weren’t On The Dancefloor) by Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr.

Butterfly In The Still by Iwasaki Taku

Dare (La La La) by Shakira

Me Enamore by Shakira

Loca by Shakira ft. Dizzee Rascal

Te Aviso, Te Anuncio (Tango) by Shakira

Addicted To You by Shakira

Whenever, Wherever by Shakira

When A Woman by Shakira

Can’t Remember To Forget You by Shakira ft. Rihanna

Better Than Yesterday by HollySiz

This is What You Came For by Calvin Harris ft. Rihanna

Sweet Nothing by Calvin Harris ft. Florence Welch

Rain by Pueblo Vista ft. .Eehlou & Shiloh Dynasty

G.B.D. Pressure (Extended) by Chillster

Valentine by Aether ft. Veela

Lemme See by Usher ft. Rick Ross

Promises by Aly & AJ

Like Whoa by Aly & AJ

Silence by Aly & AJ

Find A Way by Safety Suit

Ordinary Day by Emilie Mover

Green Light by Lorde

Don’t Feel Like Crying (MK Remix) by Sigrid

Crazy in Love by EDEN ft. Leah Kelly

Broken Girl by Matthew West

Crazy in Love by Sofia Karlberg

This Is What Makes Us Girls (The Confect Remix) by Lana del Rey

1901 by Phoenix

Lisztomania by Phoenix

Please Don’t Touch by RAYE

Island In The Sun by Weezer

God Is A Dancer by Tiesto & Mabel

Tighten Up by The Black Keys

Do I Wanna Know? by Arctic Monkeys

Lazy Eye by Silversun Pickups

Don’t Play by Halsey

Bad At Love by Halsey

Young God by Halsey

Now Or Never by Halsey

Hurricane by Halsey

Drive by Halsey

Eyes Closed by Halsey

Eyes Closed (Stripped) by Halsey

Haunting by Halsey

Strangers by Halsey ft. Lauren Jauregui

100 Letters by Halsey

Ghost by Halsey

Break A Sweat by Becky G

Little Talks by Of Monsters And Men

I wanna be your girlfriend by girl in red

Run by Alison Wonderland

I Want U by Alison Wonderland

Peace by Alison Wonderland

Peace (Acoustic) by Alison Wonderland

Dead To Me by Kali Uchis

Good Enough by Evanescence

Go Slow by Gorgon City & Kaskade ft. Romeo

Feel Good Inc by filous & LissA

All I Need by Within Temptation

A Lot Like Love (Oliver Heldens Edit) by The Voyagers ft. Haris

Hideaway by Kiesza

Memories by KSHMR ft. Sirah

American Sadness by XYLO

One Step At A Time by Jordin Sparks

Your Shirt by Chelsea Cutler

Hope Of Morning by Icon For Hire

Collect Call by Metric

Flowers On The Grave (Acoustic) by The Maine

Fabulous by Ally Brooke

Falling (blackbear Remix) by Trevor Daniel

You by Petit Biscuit

Unlove You (Drop G Remix) by Armin van Burren ft. Ne-Yo

Formation (R-TRAX Trap Remix) by Beyonce

Schoolin’ Life by Beyonce

Simmer by Hayley Williams

Ruby by Foster The People

Moral Of The Story by Ashe

Colorblind (Left/Right Remix) by Karma Fields ft. Tove Lo

Don’t Stop The Music by Jamie Cullum

Goody Two Shoes by Adam Ant

Don’t Stop the Fancy Footwork (Chromeo vs. Rihanna)

She Wolf (Falling To Pieces) by David Guetta ft. Sia

Slow Burn by Audiograf

Write My Story by Olly Anna

1 Thing by Amerie

I Like That by Janelle Monae

Your Favorite Place by Joey Pecoraro

Beauty Mark by Parov Stelar ft. Anduze

Dead Hearts by Stars

Change of Seasons (EP Version) by Sweet Thing

Larger Than Life by Pink Zebra ft. Benji Jackson

Are You With Me (Pretty Pink Remix) by Lost Frequencies

Nothing But by Skin

In Common (Kenny Dope Remix) by Alicia Keys

Resonance by HOME

All Stars by Martin Solveig ft. ALMA

Lavender’s Blue Dilly Dilly [From the Cinderella (2015) OST]

Besame Mucho by Jorge Blanco

Touch You Right Now by Basic Element

Dinero by Trinidad

Icon (Reggaeton Remix) by Jaden Smith ft. Nicky Jam & Will Smith

Make Me Sweat by Kat DeLuna

Sombredosis by Kat DeLuna ft. El Cata

Real Love by Memory Tapes

Feelings by Hayley Kiyoko

This Side Of Paradise by Hayley Kiyoko

Wanna Be Missed by Hayley Kiyoko

Gravel To Tempo by Hayley Kiyoko

Pretty Girl by Hayley Kiyoko

Fiesta (Remix) by Bombe Estereo ft. Will Smith

Love by TeZATalks

Had by TeZATalks

Heal by Loreen

Analyser by AlunaGeorge

Attracting Flies by AlunaGeorge

Damaged by Plummet

My Kind by Hilary Duff

Sparks by Hilary Duff

Talk by DJ Snake ft. George Maple

First summer without you by Outgoing Hikikomori

First birthday without you by Outgoing Hikikomori

2 Heads by Coleman Hell

Mathematics by Little Boots

Hearts Collide by Little Boots

Meddle by Little Boots

Parachute by Cheryl Cole

When she went away by Max Richter

When she came back by Max Richter

Who Knew by Pink

Lash Out by Alice Merton

Back To The Start by Mr. Little Jeans

Perfecto. by Ayo. & .Disfnk ft. Daniela Andrade

service by j^p^n

I’m In Love Again by tomppabeats

Close by Nick Jonas ft. Tove Lo

Falling Apart by Michael Schulte

Dusk ‘Til Dawn by ZAYN ft. Sia

Pillowtalk by ZAYN

Minimal Beat by Lindsey Stirling

Perfect Illusion by Lady Gaga

Do I Wanna Know? (Cover) by CHVRCHES

La Familia (Guy Sigsworth Remix) by Mirah

Broken Parts by The Ready Set & Mokita

Invisible Chains by Lauren Jauregui

Lonely Gun by CYN

Cartier by Dopebwoy ft. 3robi & Chivv

Boss Bitch by Doja Cat

[writing-essence]

Switch Flipped - Sweet Pea

Chapter One: Glory and Gore

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Andrews!Reader, Reggie Mantle x Andrews!Reader

Warnings: Riverdale being wack 🤷🏻‍♀️  

Summary: After your dad was shot by the black hood Archie has gone off the deep end, little did you expect yourself to question your northside loyalties

Author’s Note: Slow burn with Sweet Pea. Slight relationship with Reggie. It’s a bit of set up, but I promise it’ll pick up in part two! Heavily inspired by Lorde’s discography. Written by Milla

Word Count: 1581

Life in Riverdale had always been simple. Listen to your brother, keep up your grades, avoid the southside. It was comfortable and cozy, seemingly a suburban utopia. That shifted when your mother had separated and moved to Chicago. You were always close to your mom. While Fred Andrews loved both his children more than any man had ever loved anything, sports, cars, and construction were his strong suit. Girl talk or anything of the sort was not. He fumbled and was clumsy, leading you to save any rants of the trials and tribulations of adolescence to your mom. 

The summer before freshman year you stayed with her in Chicago for a month. Your world became bigger than when you had left Riverdale.  No longer did the isolated ideals make sense. You began to question the town's inner workings and couldn't wait until you could get out and stay in Chicago permanently. But until then might as well make the best of it.

Freshman year was a breeze. Your best friend Midge convinced you to go on a double date with her, Moose, and his best friend, Reggie. While at first, you detested being anywhere near the womanizer football player, Midge made a convincing case. The four of you became inseparable and finally instead of tagging along behind Archie you had your own group of friends. You thought that sophomore year would continue this trend of light-hearted parties and vanilla teenage rebellion. Then Jason Blossom's murder took the town by storm and flipped it upside down. Everyone had secrets no one was innocent. Even Archie, who had never told a white lie in his life was harboring a lifetime worth secrets. 

That brings us to November. A couple weeks had passed after your dad was shot. The entire town was on edge. Nobody felt safe. The peppy paradise facade Riverdale had curated was fading along Sweetwater river where it had all began. Archie had always been protective of you. You were his younger sister, although not young enough to be in different grades. The Archie that ran out of the bathroom at Pop's into the bloodshed wasn't the Archie you had grown up with. You excused it as PTSD, god knows you had some too.

Once the Black Hood was caught, it would all be over. You wouldn't have to look over your shoulder on this bike ride back home from Midge's house. The setting sun in front of you would once again radiate beauty instead of being an omen of darkness. You would've asked Reggie to give you a ride home, but you were too proud.

After Jason's murder, Reggie was a mess. He dragged the rest of your fantastic foursome to every party he could find all the way to Centerdale. Maybe if you hadn't been nursing a hangover every day, you could've seen the tangled mess Archie and his friends were getting themselves into. You convinced Reggie to get his act together, it was his Junior year after all. Apparently, the sentiment hadn't stuck. He was the one who gave Moose and Midge the jingle jangle that nearly got them killed. This wasn't a matter of staying sober to study for the SATs. This was a matter of keeping your loved ones out of harm's way. 

Lost in your thoughts, you almost hadn't noticed the hoard of leather-clad teenagers charging towards your house. They had barely started up the walkway when you threw your bike on the front lawn.

"Hey!" You let out. The group of boys turned towards your outburst. Okay, maybe you hadn't thought this through. Taking hesitant steps towards them, you noticed the snakes that adorned their bodies and jackets. Great now you've antagonized not only a group of angry boys but a group of angry gang members. "What the hell are you doing?"

The tallest boy at the front of the group scrunched his eyebrows and cocked his head giving you a view of the serpent along his neck. "What's it to you Northsider?"

"I uh, I live here," you gulped. "This is my house." The boy's smug expression turned to confusion, and he looked to the rest of the group. He whispered something to a shorter boy with brown eyes which resembled that of a golden retriever. The shorter boy shook his head. 

"You sure about that princess?" The larger boy asked with his arms crossed. You meekly nodded your head yes. Before he could say anything else a blonde guy from the back of the formation interrupted.

"Forget her! Let's show this red circle douche bag who's in charge!" Before the others erupted in cheering the two brown eyed boys in front shushed them. 

Then it hit you. They must've seen that stupid testosterone filled video. "Wait, red circle? You mean Archie?" You asked. 

"You know him?" Neck tattoo boy glanced again to the boy on his right before his eyes drifted back to mine.

"Uh well yeah," you mused, "He's my brother." After your dad was shot he's been on edge. You knew he hadn't been sleeping because your dog, Vegas, migrated to your room these past few nights.  What could Archie have done to piss off a group of Southside Serpents? This couldn't all be because of that video. You've never been a fan of violence, and that video took it too far. Archie wasn't capable of anything he said in those two minutes. The boys in front of you thought otherwise. "Look whatever he said, I'm sorry. I don't want any trouble," you crossed your arms and attempted to get to the front porch, but what the dark boy said next made you stop in your tracks. 

"That's funny neither did we when your brother vandalized our turf with his red circle agenda and waved a gun in my face," he responded. mumbling affirmation came from behind him.

"No...no look Archie's been through a lot but he wouldn't do something like that,” you shook your head turning back to him.

“Really?” His head returned to a smug tilt, “why don't you ask him yourself?”

Your breath quickened as you continued to the front door. Taking a final glance at the grumbling gang behind you, you knocked on the door. Archie opened it swiftly with Veronica at his side. Confused looks skirt their faces as to why you would knock on your own house but quickly fade as their eyes trail to the group behind you. “Make some new friends Archie?” 

The next few minutes became a blur. You ended up near the side of the stairs next to Reggie, sandwiched by another bulldog. Why they were at your house? You had no idea or any energy to question it. This couldn’t be happening. Through the barks of bulldogs and hisses of serpents, you make out a few key phrases consisting of fight, gun, and rules. 

“Are you guys serious? Are you actually suggesting a West Side Story jets versus sharks rumble?” Archie and Veronica’s eyes fall back to your outburst. Were they even listening to themselves, it was barbaric. After everything, the black hood has done. All of the pain he’s caused and this is their solution? More danger?

“A fair fight princess,” the tall serpent breaks the momentary silence. 

The warmth from your side quickly disappeared as Reggie charged towards him. Grabbing his hand, you attempt to pull him back with little success. “I don’t know ‘bout that. Bulldogs eat serpents for lunch!”

“Reggie!” You swore you were gripping to his hand so tight it might pop off. The two rival groups of teens continued their terms and conditions. This was Archie’s business. As much as you love your brother you knew his actions would have consequences. If he wanted to start a turf war with the serpents, it’s his choice, but you were not about to let your hot-headed boyfriend make even more mistakes. The serpents slithered off your front yard with a pack of bulldogs following close behind. Your hand was still clutched onto Reggie’s as he turned back to you.

“Stay here with Veronica,” his tone softened significantly from the yelling match earlier, “we’ll take care of it.”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you pulled your hand back. “Take care of what Reggie? Archie made a dumb decision, it doesn’t mean you have to follow him off a cliff!” 

Veronica sensed the oncoming storm of a domestic dispute and disappeared into the kitchen. This was it. You and Reggie had been through a lot, and you knew he was better than this. He knew he was on thin ice after lying about his fleeting sobriety and that encouraging war with the serpents would not go in his favor.

“Reggie if you step out that door,” you stop yourself unsure about what you’ll say next. “I can’t be with you anymore.”

Reggie’s mouth dropped slightly as he tried to find what to say, “Y/N-,” he stopped himself, shaking his head towards the floor. “I’m sorry.” 

With two words and a shrug, he was gone. You let the burning tears behind your eyes fall across your cheeks. 

[thedeviltohisangel]

You Say It Softly//4//Left Untold

The first time Jim & Leah spend the night together.

Smut Warning

my URL/jimmason to catch up!

send any requests for Jim my way!

He remembers calling Leah and leaving her many voicemails once the oxy had set into his system. Jim is pretty sure, if he were to listen back to them, he’d sound like a mumbling mess and the thought that she was going to hear him like that was keeping him up. They had been on a few dates and Jim held her hand at school and they shared dessert at lunch and everything was going great. He had made the choice to not invite her to another party in the fear she would see him fucked up again and he knew she didn’t like it. But tonight when he had asked her to come to the beach, he had a habit of inviting her to the beach in the hopes her presence would curb his behavior which was wrong of him and he knew it, she had declined, saying she had a tennis match tomorrow she needed to rest up for.

Jim couldn’t help but feel like it was her way of telling Jim he had to stop hanging out with the Chad’s of the world if he wanted to keep hanging out with her. It left a hollow emptiness inside of him.

He watched the clock on his nightstand change over to 2 AM with a groan, about to turn over and try once again to find sleep when his phone began to ring. The picture of him and Leah on his roof from last week stared back at him.

“Leah? What’s going on?”

“You don’t sound like I woke you up. What’s going on with you?” She had expected him to sound groggy, if he even answered at all, and she sat up straighter in her bed at the sound of his perfectly even voice. “I listened to your voicemails and wanted to make sure you were okay. I got up to pee and couldn’t fall back asleep.” He chuckled at her honesty.

“Yeah, sorry about that. That crazy girl Isla was at the beach tonight and she made me miss you is all. I shouldn’t have called while I was... you know…”

“High?” she finished for him. Leah wasn’t stupid. She knew the state of mind he had been in when he called her. Knew it was similar to how he was in astronomy last week. How he was when he showed up to her house the other day asking if he could walk her dog with her at midnight. Jim was trying so hard to keep her sheltered from that part of his life but she wished she could tell him to just stop. That that was the only way to truly keep it away from her. But addiction can’t be cured by a magic wand or harsh words so she hadn’t said anything. “Can I come over?” She didn’t want Jim to feel obligated to answer to her calling him out so she changed the subject on his behalf.

“Yeah, I’ll wait by my window for you.”

“Okay I’ll be there soon...keep the bed warm for me.” She hung up and Jim sat for a moment. Leah and him hadn’t spent time overnight together yet. They’d had some heated makeout sessions in her bed but nothing ever beyond that. They were taking it slow, and Jim respected that, but it was getting harder to focus on her when she kissing him while also trying to keep his dick from getting hard.

He went to the bathroom to splash his face with cold water in an attempt to lower his body temperature before she even came over in the hopes he could avoid any sort of malfunction that having her body against his might cause. He paced the rest of the time she took to get there, shaking out his arms and legs, even doing a few push ups so he wouldn’t look too meek and tired when she finally arrived. Jim also spent a good amount of time looking at himself in the mirror to try and make sure he didn’t still look like he was under the effect of his drugs from early. He figured some eyedrops couldn’t hurt.

He was blinking them throughout his eyes when there was a knock at his window, Leah having climbed up his porch to reach his room.

“Hi Sprinkles,” she whispered as he helped her into his room. “I missed you today.” She had been nervous to admit that to him,wondering if it was too soon to be telling him she missed him when she didn’t see him, but looking at him made her guards come down.

“I’m sorry out schedules haven’t really matched up lately. I wanna come to your match tomorrow though.”

“That’d be great! We can get lunch together after.”

“I’d like that,” Jim replied with a genuine smile. Things were always so easy with her. Much of his life at the moment was a whirlwind of trying to make everyone happy and not let anyone down but with Leah, it’s not that he didn’t have to try, but he didn’t have to try as hard. She seemed to be happy with him just being him and it made good feelings blossom in his chest. Simple things, like lunch at the tennis club food stand, made her day and they had begun to make Jim’s too.

Jim stepped forward and placed a gentle kiss to her lips, Leah never one to make the first move towards anything physical in their relationship. It was all so new to her and Jim seemed like he had done it all before and then some so she trusted him to not what was right and wrong to do and when. She was afraid she’d do something too soon and scare him off and that was the last thing that she wanted.

“Do you mind if I actually do try and get some sleep? I wasn’t lying earlier when I said I needed it.” The yawn accompanying her statement was timed perfectly.

“Yeah, of course. I grabbed an extra blanket from my closet since I know how warm you like to be.” Last week Jim had gone over her house to watch an Indiana Jones marathon and she had rolled them both up into a blanket burrito. Leah had explained that she felt most relaxed with a blanket tucked under her chin.

Leah kissed him on the cheek as a thank you and buried herself under his sheets and comforter immediately. Jim followed suit and they laid there facing each other just enjoying the silence of the other’s company for a few moments.

“This is our first time, like, literally sleeping together,” she mused as she found his hand under the covers and tangled her fingers with his.

“It’s nice,” Jim replied honestly. He was sexually attracted to Leah, that much was obvious, but it was different than the other girls he had been attracted to in the past. He didn’t feel like it was the only reason he wanted to be with her. Didn’t feel like it was the prevailing thought in his head whenever he saw her. All he craved was to be close to her, in whatever form that happened to take.

“Next time you go to the beach and do whatever I want to come. I should be making more of an effort to get to know your friends and stuff. So they stop looking at me like I have three heads everyday at lunch.”

“I don’t want you to come if you’re not comfortable. They just don’t get all the smart things you say in response to their dumb thoughts and questions. Having them be confused by you is probably a sign you’re doing something right, Sugar.” Leah giggled softly and moved closer to him at his words of encouragement.

“I noticed you used the word ‘conflated’ the other day. I meant to make fun of you for it,” she whispered as she poked the tip of his nose with her finger. Just the other day he had been confused by her use of the word so she had explained it to him and then the next day at lunch he had used it perfectly in a sentence.

“You’re rubbing off on me. Such a good influence,” he murmured as he felt his eyes growing heavy at the way he was gently tracing over his features.

“Cuddle me?” she asked as she noticed he was growing tired. He nodded and opened his arms so she would have plenty of space to adjust herself to the perfect position, facing away from him and placing her back to his chest so they were spooning. Leah was happy Jim couldn’t see her face with the position they were currently in. She was blushing and smiling like crazy. In her mind it was like her fairytales come true. Having a boy like her as much as she liked him. Spending the night cuddled together in his bed under a bunch of blankets. As she fell asleep that night she kept telling herself to not think this was a dream or a fairytale where they all lived happily ever after. Leah knew that was the only surefire way to get her heartbroken.

Jim woke up before she did. Leah was still in his arms the same way she had been when she fell asleep. He kissed the back of her neck gently and was going to shut his eyes to catch a few more minutes of sleep when he became acutely aware of the gentle pulse between his legs.

Jim looked down in the hopes he was wrong in his assumption of what was happening between his legs. He looked back up in slight horror when he noticed that Leah was stirring and turning around to say good morning to him.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered as he turned around so his back was now facing her.

“Jim? Is something wrong?” Leah couldn’t lie that his slight rejection of her was a blow to her glow of happiness at waking up next to him.

“I’m...I’m trying to adjust myself,” he grunted with the effort of trying to get his morning wood to disappear before he rolled back over to properly start their day with a kiss.

“Do you...do you need help?” She began to place soft kisses on his bare shoulders that were exposed from the blanket.

“You’re kissing is making it worse actually,” he muttered as he took a couple of deep breaths. “I’m gonna splash myself with some cold water-”

“I want to try.” Her words were firm and direct, Jim looking over his shoulder to make eye contact with her.

“Try what?”

“Jim are you going to make me say it?” she asked slightly exasperated. “Let me try to...to help you make it go away. With my mouth.” Jim thinks he could’ve come from the thought of her mouth wrapped around his dick alone. He had, actually, used the image to get off many time since he had started seeing her.

“You’re sure? I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

“Are you okay with it?”

“Fuck yeah,” he exclaimed in spite of himself. He mentally hit himself for seeming so eager. Jim had gotten a blow job before but never from a girl as pretty as her. Never from a girl he liked as much as her.

“Ok then. Take your pants off.” He didn’t need to be told twice, hopping from his bed with a newfound spring in his step, throwing his boxers to the side before he sat back in his bed with his back against the headboard. Leah kissed his lips first, slowly and sensually in a way that made something stir inside of them both. “I’ve never done this before. So I’m sorry if it doesn’t go well.”

“I’m sure you’ll do-” The rest of his sentence got stuck in his throat as her fingertip danced across the top of his cock.

“That sensitive?” she inquired as she moved further down the bed and fell to her stomach between his legs. “What about when I do this?” Her fingertip circled his tip with precision and she kept her eyes locked on his as it did.

“Feels great,” Jim breathed. Between how sexy he thought she looked with bedhead and her nipples poking through her shirt and the way she was studying his every breath Jim thought he might not last until she actually got her mouth on him. Her tongue flicked out tentatively next. Tracing the same path her finger just had, then licking the entire length of him like it was an ice cream cone on a hot summer day. Leah looked at him for approval as her tongue settled back into tracing gentle circles. “Feels so good, Sugar, like you were meant to have my cock in your mouth.” She moaned at his encouragement before opening her mouth and taking him in, suctioning her lips halfway down his length. Her cheeks hollowed and Jim moved his hand to hold her hair in a loose ponytail as she began to bob her head.

He fought hard to keep his eyes open, wanting to imprint the image in his mind for every lonely moment he might ever have. As she pulled away with red and swollen lips, slick with spit, Jim felt the urge to claim her.

“Want you to come in my mouth,” she instructed, “Want to taste you.” She returned her mouth to him, using her hand to jerk off the part of him that she couldn’t fit quite yet. Jim bit his pillow in an effort to keep quiet and not risk alerting his mother or sister to what was going on in his bedroom.

After a few more moments, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and his cum hit the back of her throat as he came. He opened his eyes in time to watch her swallow and wipe her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Fucking hell, Leah. For your first time that was pretty good.” She smiled with delight and crawled back up towards him to connect their lips.

“I was so nervous! I’ve been thinking how you must’ve had so many girls get with you in Michigan and probably even here so my competition was-” He placed his finger gently over her lips so she would stop talking.

“No competition. You’re the best. In everything. No one could ever beat my Sugar when it comes to taking care of me.” Leah thinks she blushed ten shades deeper at his words. Jim had felt as though the L word was about to slip past his tongue but he managed to hold it in. He thought it might look too over eager to say it to her for the first time in his post-orgasm haze. And he had a feeling Leah was the type of person who took the first time saying something like that seriously so Jim wanted to make the moment right for her. “After you kick your opponent’s ass today I’m gonna return the favor.” He was already salivating at the thought of getting between her legs. Hearing how she moaned. Hearing her say his name as she came.

“Some extra motivation,” she said as she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and giggled as he pulled her back into a kiss. “Speaking of, I should get going. I don’t want to lose time to stretch.”

“Can’t wait to see you in that cute little skirt again. Grunt extra loud for me today,” Jim teased as he got out of bed and stood by the window with her.

“I will, James Mason, don’t you worry about it.” She pecked him one last time. “Thank you for last night. And this morning. And everything. Spending time with you...means a lot to me.” She looked to her feet at her own admission and he kissed her forehead in agreement.

“It means a lot to me too. I can’t wait to see you again in a couple hours. I already miss your kisses.” She laughed at his playfulness and she scaled back down his roof and onto his back porch. Leah blew him a kiss once her feet were firmly planted on the ground, running quickly to her car in the hopes of driving away before Sandy Mason could see. “God, Leah.What am I gonna do?” Jim whispered to no one. There were so many ways he could lose her. So many ways Jim could fuck it up. Jim just had to believe that love could be enough.

[theclaravoyant]

Freckles ~ [Skimmons Rated K+]

AN ~ This one doesn’t fit my Bingo prompts but I haven’t written Skimmons in a while and I got inspired to be all romantical and poetic by all the Anne with an E I’ve been watching lately, so enjoy the shameless fluff! Rated K+, I guess technically there’s some sensual imagery but it’s very mild.

For Anon who prompted (paraphrased): Daisy loves Jemma's freckles and is always playing with them, and one day, Jemma finds that Daisy has some too.

Read on AO3 (~1100wd)

Freckles

One of the first things Daisy fell in love with was her freckles. The way they shone like gold in the sun, the way they crinkled up across her nose when she laughed or pulled a face – and that was often. Fair ladies of old might have seen such things as blemishes, but though Jemma was as classic a beauty as ever there was, her freckles did not clash with her airs and graces. Perhaps they did make her seem a little younger, though, Daisy thought – or perhaps that was just the smile, when she crinkled her nose and they shone in the sun.

Yet even as the years aged Jemma – and many of them, by more than their fair share – Daisy refused to fall out of love with her freckles. On a starlit night, gazing up above, she thought how fitting it was that Jemma loved the stars and had constellations of her very own dotted across her skin. She would touch them, as if to count them, and bestow her love on every one. She would refuse to relinquish Jemma’s arm, even as she blushed furiously, until all the love was done. She would kiss the freckles that wended their way down Jemma’s back, and feel them rippling at her touch like fallen leaves in a slow-running river, and she would not stop until Jemma’s shoulders loosened, their tension released. Whenever she had the chance, whenever the mood took her, she would trace them with a pen, or a soapy finger in the shower; she would lie in bed and whisper to them when the ears between them were too bashful or too stubborn to hear what was being said. And on those rare, sunny days, she would simply live for Jemma to laugh, and for her nose to crinkle with the pull of stars – a whole galaxy dedicated to painting her purest joy – and she would take a picture, to savour on the longer, sunless, miserable days.

But Daisy was not the only one with an affection for such things. Jemma had never much cared for freckles; she didn’t hate them – how could she, for they were part of her beautiful self – but she’d never thought much more of them, than as markers of a pale English girl who enjoyed perhaps a little too much time outdoors. She always found it a little amusing when Daisy compared them to stars, as if they were so grand and mysterious and romantic; she had always thought of them more like flowers, beautiful in their humble yet unassuming presence, and of course, both literally and metaphorically blossoming in the sun. Then again, none of her romantic interests to date had a noticeable flush of freckles: her type was flawless bad-asses, and apparently that flawlessness extended to the distribution of melanin across their complexion.

Or… did it?

Because as Jemma lay in bed beside Daisy in the early morning, watching her sleep, she noticed a dot. And then another. And a third. There were only a handful of them, scattered over the bridge of her nose and her cheeks, and it was not that Jemma had never seem them before, of course, but she had never truly noticed them. In the private quiet of the morning, and with her head full of Daisy’s waxing lyrical about her own freckles the night before, they felt like secrets; like treasures undiscovered until now. She traced over them with her eyes, wondering if touching them would wake Daisy, and wondering over the perfect metaphor to shower over them when Daisy awoke. It seemed that Daisy herself had stolen all the good ones though, passionate heart that she was – except perhaps the flowers, but Daisy had never been that pale English girl playing in the sun. It would be more fitting, Jemma mused, to describe those few freckles as sunspots, as burning flares of justice in the quest that had been Daisy’s life. But they did not seem so grand, especially not on her sleeping face, squashed into the pillow with all her vulnerabilities laid bare.

Then Jemma grinned as the thought occurred to her, that perhaps most fitting of all would be to describe them as one might a comically asymmetrical marking on a horse or a dog. Noble creatures they were, and strong, and loyal, and yet unendingly ridiculous around those who knew them best. It had been a long time since Daisy had been publically ridiculous, but just like those few tiny freckles, the spirit and humour was still there, indomitable; it was just that, like the freckles, only the people close to her tended to see it. Was there anything more Daisy in the world?

She couldn’t help it. She prodded a freckle, ever so gently.

Daisy peeled one eye open, and huffed.

“What’re you doing?”

“Admiring you,” Jemma said, and batted her eyelids innocently. “You have freckles too, I’ve found, and they’re quite lovely.”

“What? No I don’t.”

She rolled onto her back and felt her face, as if she would be able to locate the freckles by touch alone. Of course, she could not, and her sleep-addled brain rocked on the verge of having an existential crisis about such a thing, and abandoning the whole idea to return to sleep. Fortunately, Jemma chose this moment to intervene, straddling Daisy’s hips with a smile.

“Yes you do,” she insisted. “Here, I’ll show you.”

She touched her way along the freckles, and thought how much they were like a secret code, or like cities on a unique and fantastical map. Islands in a sea of the soul of her love. She thought to herself how perhaps Daisy had not stolen all the good metaphors after all, but before she could let any spill from her lips she was interrupted by the sound of Daisy laughing.

“Alright, maybe I do,” she acknowledged with a lopsided grin. “Will you stop playing and kiss me already?”

“Surely it’s the least I can do, after I so rudely awoke you,” Jemma conceded.

Daisy raised her eyebrows and nodded, in a sarcastically exaggerated level of agreement, and with a laugh of her own, Jemma was all too happy to acquiesce. She was, after all, ever an advocate for minimising words where an action would do, and for all the flowers and stars and islands and Dalmatian spots and secret treasures in the world, those simple, precious dots were freckles on the face of the woman she loved, and that was more than important enough.

[blisserial]

Eleven

The Capitol is surrounded by endless fields of flowers. The flowers are said to be the favored blossom of the gods. The Seat guards them jealously. In the north we no longer grow the poppy, just as we no longer plant oilseed. It's forbidden.

Some Northerners even claim the poppy flower is cursed. Eat of the seeds and one will quickly die of the bloat. Touch the petals and ware the resulting hives. Look too long upon the spiny stem and go mad.

The dried, crushed roots are smuggled over the border for use as a poison, but I have never yet heard tell of a soul successfully murdered in such a way. Use of the opiate is punishable by hanging but that's never stopped addicts, in bad years it's said the opium chewers crowd the king's gallows to bursting.

That first ride across those rippling fields made my young self shake.  I had no real horror of standing before the Seat; as yet I knew no better. But, as we traveled the thin dusty path between rows and rows of thriving flowers, I felt strangely as though the end of my world waited on the other side of the massive field.

Ross, riding alongside Amy and slightly to my front, dug something from beneath his belt. The size of a lump of coal, it glittered in his palm before he clutched it tight.

"What’s that?" I wondered aloud, and then thought better of speech. The bright flowers seemed to loom closer and my words lingered in the musty air.

"Chrysanthemum." Reluctantly Ross opened his fingers. Past Amy's mount I could see the weathered silver brooch in his hand. "Wards off bad luck."

"I've never heard that." I lowered my voice a notch. "Granda grew them. It's just a flower."

"Like those in these fields are just a flower? No," Maurice said from behind me. When I glanced back, he smiled and shrugged. "The king soaks chrysanthemum petals in spring water and drinks the liquid as a healthful tea."

He continued, quoting: "'And so Trout plucked the chrysanthemum and made the petals into mash and ate them with his bread and in doing so brought health and honor to the land and to his sons.'"

I scoffed, trying to ignore the whisper of wind through the dancing poppy fields. "What is that? Poetry?"

"Legend," Maurice replied. "Have you no learning at all, Bliss?"

Amy laughed, a shrill giggle that made my teeth clench. Lately I had begun to wish Ross would tire of the lass and send her back to sleep with the dogs.

"I need no learning," I said, glaring at Ross's back. "I have wit."

Still, as we continued down the path, watched by the nodding poppies, I considered Maurice's legend and thought seriously of stealing Ross's silver flower. Better that protection in my pouch than in his.

                                                             *****

"I don't have them," Bliss said through clenched teeth. "Are you deaf? How many times must I tell you so?"

Chrysanthemum shifted irritably on his stool. "You expect me to believe you sold them in some back water Southern village?"

"We were hungry," Shaara said indignantly. "A man's got a right to eat. And what good's a bag of painted shells when your stomach's grumbling? They weren't even pretty painted shells."

Chrysanthemum shot Shaara a hard look. Shaara kept his face still and rolled his shoulders. Chrysanthemum scowled at Bliss. Bliss mimicked Shaara's shrug.

"We got a fair price for them," she said. "Enough for a sup and a good room."

A crimson flush rose up Chrysanthemum's throat and across his cheeks. "A fair price? A fair price! Have you any idea -"

"No," interrupted Bliss. "I haven't. What is a bag of painted miniatures to you? And why have you come all this way to retrieve Tamner's goods?"

Chrysanthemum swallowed back visible fury. "They belonged not to Lord Tamner, but to our king."

Shaara glanced at Bliss. She met his eye in perfect understanding, then shifted almost imperceptibly on her stool. "What was the king's property doing in Lady Alyce's sewing drawer?"

"Trout grant her peace," Chrysanthemum touched his brow in automatic reverence. "Milady made a mistake."

"A mistake?" Shaara echoed before he could help himself. Beneath the table, Bliss kicked him in the shin, a sharp warning.

Chrysanthemum swiveled. He considered Shaara carefully. "You've grown, Corporal , since that day in the rain on the field."

"You were there?" A shiver ran up and down Shaara’s spine.

"Yes, lad. I was there. Most of us who matter now to the north were. Many who waited in the mud that day were lost. You were a lucky."

"It wasn't luck." Bliss picked the spoon from the empty bowl. She tapped it on the table. Trying to distract, Shaara knew.

Chrysanthemum shook his head. "Enough." He held out one brown, calloused hand. "I know you have the miniatures. I'd not have come into this stark city without some certainty. I want them. Now." Shaara felt the men standing in the shop tense. He did not dare glance around.

"I told you: I don't have them," Bliss drawled. "Nor am I interested in the king's lost property. Obviously, the man should keep a better hand on his jewels."

"Watch your mouth, Captain," Chrysanthemum hissed. "You come dangerously close to treason." His extended hand dipped as he reached for Bliss's pack.

Bliss flipped the spoon. It  flew in an elegant, perfect arc and caught the closest soldier across the face. The soldier grunted. Chrysanthemum, startled, paused just long enough. Bliss buried her belt knife in his forearm.

Blood burst across the table. Chrysanthemum screamed in pain and rage. Bliss slid from her stool, pack in hand.

"Run," she ordered Shaara, and darted toward the door.

Since the kick in the shin Shaara had known a brawl was iniment. Even so, Bliss did not usually brawl with her knife. The sight of blood and bone through sleeve held Shaara rooted on his stool.

"Shaara!" Bliss shouted, barreling as she did so head first into a looming soldier. "Run, you idiot!"

Shaara ran. His stool toppled as he dodged Chrysanthemum's wobbling lunge. His knife was in his hand of its own accord and his hand remembered what to do.

There was a trick to it, a simple dance to distract, then a duck and a lunge and a quick twist of the knife in armpit or neckline, where a soldier's leathers were most vulnerable. Northerner or Southerner, they all had soft flesh beneath. They all bled the same, bright red gushes, across a table or in floods along the grass at Green Hill. Men shrieked as they died, or fell without protest, exhaling thick fluid along with their lives.

"Shaara." Bliss's hand was on the scruff of his neck. He almost drew his knife across the pulsing blue vein in her throat. "Enough," his Captain ordered. "Drop it."

Her other hand squeezed his left wrist until his fingers began to go numb. The belt knife, blunted from bread and cheese and now wet with blood, fell from his hand to the floor with a thud.

"Leave it," Bliss said. "Leave them." It took an effort, but Shaara returned to himself. He blinked at the three dead men sprawled beneath the tables in a sludge of gore and sugar. Chrysanthemum stood leaning on his stool,  gasping but still alive.

"Leave him," Bliss said, pulling Shaara from the shop. Outside in the street too bright sun bounced across white buildings and made his eyes water.

“What now?” His head felt full of wool, his stomach full of snakes. He’d forgotten how easy it was to kill a man. 

"Now we split up." Bliss set her brow briefly against his own. She pressed  another knife into his hand, a new knife with an ivory handle, an officer's knife, Chyrsanthemum's knife? Bliss was always been efficient.

"And Horrid's tits, don't go back to Moire. They'll be looking for us there." Her breath whispered across his lips. "The old bolt hole, remember?"

"Yes."

"Good. Go. I'll find Maurice." She clenched the back of his neck again, a promise. Then she was gone, the stark walls rising up in her absence. Shaara heard Chrysanthemum begin to bellow from inside the shop.

Clenching the knife in his fist, Shaara turned back up the street and fled.

 Moire was washing her new prayer shawl in the barrack's spring when Bliss found her.

"You're predictable," Bliss said, lingering beneath the shade of an old drooping willow. "Although it used to be saddle blanket and sweat cloth."

"It still is, occasionally." Moire's back ached from scrubbing but the cool water felt good against the insides of her wrists. "One can be a soldier and a priest."

"Not easily." Bliss leaned against the willow's thick trunk. "So far as I've noticed. Soldiers are afraid of a priest to take her orders on the field. In fact, some say it's bad luck."

"You've always been too superstitious, Bliss. Ross ruined you with that." Moire rose to her feet. She rung out her shawl, water dripping onto the grass. The wool, even clean and wet, was already beginning to look a trifle worse for the wear. "Hardly worn." She sighed. "Have you come to return my other?"

"No," Bliss replied without sympathy. "I'm keeping it. To remind me."

"Of?" 

"Betrayal."

"Bliss." Moire laughed despite her herself. She spread the dripping shawl over a round, warm boulder and stepped up the hill. She felt calm again, in control, determined.

They would smooth things out, here in the sunshine. Bliss would be sullen but resigned, as Bliss was wont to be, and Moire would send her on her way home with a chaste kiss and goodwill. Moire would miss them all but the world would right itself again.

But as she approached the willow, Moire's contended musings fled. "You're bleeding."

"Not mine." Bliss grinned, bearing teeth. A gash across her nose split open, giving lie to her words.

"Come here," Moire ordered. "Into the light. Let me see.”

"If it's all the same to you," Bliss said dryly. "The tree is a better cover than your angry Southern sun."

"It's the same sun. The north has the inconvenience of clouds." Without waiting for permission Moire ran practiced fingers up and down Bliss's limbs, searching. Bliss winced once or twice, but it seemed she spoke ture. The majority of the blood, it seemed, belonged to someone else. "What's happened?"

"The king's soldiers have come hunting in the Southern heat."

"For you?" Moire prodded Bliss's ribs. Bliss grunted but did not flinch. "What have you done?"

"What have I done?" Bliss's black brows plunged. "What have I done? Why do you always assume the fault is mine?"

"Because you're a thief and a scoundrel when you're not a hero and because it usually is." Satisfied that the score across Bliss's nose was the worst of it, Moire dug free the small jar of honey she kept in her pouch. She used the sweet ointment to seal the split. 

"What do they want, then?"

Bliss squared her shoulders, then sighed. "Something I have, something Shaara found."

"And where is Shaara?" Alarmed, Moire glanced into the willow's shadowed depths, but Bliss was alone. "He said he was off to find you, that he had something to discuss with you."

Bliss shrugged. She wouldn't meet Moire's eye, a bad sign. "He's in the old bolt hole, if he's followed orders. We had a nice game of cat and mouse and then a passable dessert on Roth Street. Lovely, really, until we were interrupted by a bad tempered officer on a royal errand."

Moire capped her honey jar and secreted it away again. "Shaara stole something that belonged to your king? Careless."

"Of both our king and my apprentice." Bliss stared thoughtfully across the creek, seeing something that Moire did not. "I tried to run down Maurice, but he's not in the barracks and the wench at the front desk hasn't seen him all day and then I ran into another clutch of the Northern men behind the Spire. He's sent more than a squad, Moire."

"He means business, then." Moire kept her tone light, but she knew a sudden waking of fear. "What is it you have, Bliss? What is it worth?"

Bliss's lips set. She shrugged. "I don't know."

"You won't tell me." Moire felt the sharp, bright sting of heart ache. She slapped it away, stern. The gods knew Bliss had never given anything away willingly.

"I don't know." Bliss strode away, leaving the tree behind. She squatted above the spring, cupped water, scrubbed blood from her hands, cupped again and took a quick drink. "Find Maurice for me, Moire. Send him to the old spot."

"Where are you going?" Moire kept her hands straight at her side, in that empty space where her sword and pistol had once lived.

"I don't know that, either.” Before Moire could voice protest the shadows once again swallowed Bliss up.