#A Waltz with the Bone King

[amandacanwrite]

So, I'm Rewriting Something I Just Published

This post has two acts. First, a confession of sorts. Then, an update, a little peer behind the veil, please pay attention to the woman behind the curtain.

So, here’s the confession.

I was going to just secretly, quietly, unnoticed-ly re-release a recent short story I published in the form of a tiny book on amazon. I was just going to finish rewriting it and update the original file I uploaded and pretend that nothing ever changed. Do the ole-one-two-switcheroo.

But then I remembered that I’ve just been wanting to be overall more transparent and honest in my newsletters. And that I actually want to tell you guys about the process of writing it and what I’m learning in the process.

So here I am, telling you about how impulsive and goofy I am. I hope you enjoy it.

Here’s the thing. My idea in publishing it on a whim was to claim my amazon author profile so that I could start promoting it, encouraging people to follow it, so that when my debut novel comes out next year people actually get notified about it. Seems like a clever idea, right? Or at least it did to me. Honestly, marketing is at best a hobby I do poorly at this point, but I’m trying to figure it out.

I figured I would just put something out that I was decently confident about and focus on just linking to the profile itself and forgetting about the specific work.

The problem being I actually really like the story and have wanted to expand it for months. After receiving a proof copy of the physical book and reading it, I found myself stuck on the potential it had and I shifted my focus to writing more of the story.

In classic “me” fashion, what started as the intention to add maybe two thousand words to flesh it out a bit more has now evolved into a narrative that will probably require another ten or eleven thousand words. It’s becoming a novella. Because I have approximately zero chill.

(By the way, this is not new, The Hallowed Wilds was only supposed to be forty-thousand words and now with another twenty-thousand to go it’s already clocking in at a whopping sixty-thousand words. So yes, I routinely have to double the size of my projects because they take off without me.)

And also due to my inability to harness any chill, I also just want to scream at you guys about the whole thing. I wanna talk about the drafting, the editing, the visuals, the inspirations. I want to just gab about all of it.

So that’s the backstory, let me get into the stuff that I actually want to tell you about now, a little peer behind the curtain for my simultaneous WIP mixed with an already published novlette called A Waltz with the Bone King.

This idea came to be years ago, collaboratively, with my best friend Eden, who I have mentioned before in this newsletter. We are big fans of text-based role playing, and before you get awkward, it’s not the sexy thing. It’s the nerdy thing.

This was a story we came up with together about a woman obsessed with the macabre literally being courted by death. It was one I always loved and, with her blessing, I’ve been playing with writing it as a narrative for a while now—several times over the last year, honestly. The idea first came to us after seeing this lovely image by Illustrator Abigail Larson.

The story follows a sickly, frail woman named Lorelai Hunt. She’s the sole daughter of a wealthy widower that lives in the country, away from society. He purchased his estate there after his wife, Lorelai’s mother, fell ill and they have lived there ever since.

Oddly enough, this looks almost exactly how I envision her.

Lorelai’s mother, Hanne, died when Lorelai was only six or seven and it shook her deeply.

Not long after her mother’s death, Lorelai started to be visited by spirits. She was doted upon by ghostly nannies while her father processed his grief, in many ways she was reared by these paranormal experiences until she started to get too old to peer past the veil quite so easily.

She found comfort in reading about theories on what happens after death, reading dark poetry, and as she aged, even reading about what happens to the body after a soul had left it.

As a result, many people thought she was odd and, at the time of the story, tend to avoid her and ridicule her behind their gloved hands. Much to her father’s dismay, she has had no gentleman callers or prospective suitors, but Lorelai herself isn’t bothered. She would rather die a spinster than consign herself to a life with a husband who doesn’t understand her, especially with the example her parents set as a perfect love match.

But matters get complicated when Westley Harper, a young man from the city, takes a curious interest in her despite his clear distaste for the things she is interested in. Honestly, one of my favorite parts to write was Lorelai and Westley’s first conversation and I hope you enjoy it as well:

“Do you like history, Mr. Harper?” I asked.   “Please, Westley is fine,” he said. “And of course, a young man must be well versed on such subjects.”   “I’ve been reading about the French Revolution and Marie Antoinette,” I said. “It really is a tragedy what happened to them, don’t you think? Coming to power when they were no more than children—only to fall in love and have their romance cut short by their untimely deaths.”   “I suppose it would take a tender heart such as yours to extend such compassion to monarchs who were so unliked,” he said.   “I heard that Marie Antoinette collapsed in the courtroom when the bells tolled signaling King Louis’s death—” I said before adding as an aside. “Did you know that some doctors theorize that the head continues perceiving up to several minutes after being removed from the body?”   Westley’s face tightened, only slightly with how well he managed his own reactions, but I saw it nonetheless.   “Don’t you think that’s fascinating?” I pressed on. “What do you suppose he thought of in those final moments?”   “I imagine he thought only of pain,” he responded.   “Why ever would he think on pain when he was no longer connected to any of the anatomy that could cause the sensation of it?” I challenged.   “Maybe he marveled at the fact that he was still thinking at all—”   “Is that what you would do? Think ‘Ah, I’m still sentient. Fascinating,’ and then die?”   Westley sighed and smoothed a hand through his perfect hair again, his irritation apparent and growing. “I imagine that I would be thinking of vengeance against those who had wronged me.”   Finally, an honest answer!   “I see—” I said, tapping my lace fan to my lacquered lips. “So, you’d continue to the next phase of existence as a vengeful spirit.” 

I hope this gives you an idea of why Lorelai is so fun to write. She’s strange and a little hard headed. I love the dichotomy of her stubborn qualities offset by her openness to the unexplained; her intelligence paired with her oddness and superstitions.

By no surprise, shortly after this meeting Lorelai meets The Bone King during one of her visits to the graveyard and that’s where our story really starts to unfold.

“Who are you?” I asked him.   “Well, you already know exactly who I am, don’t you?” he asked me as he carefully picked up the shattered teacup, the crimson liquid staining his satin gloves like blood. “Or you at least have an inkling.”  His tone wasn’t the same condescending indulgence that Westley had used with me when I’d attended that social with Papa. It was conversational, light, and a little playful. If he’d had any flesh on the bones of his face, I could almost see the little dimpled smile he’d have when he said it.   “So…you’re…the king of death?” I finally made myself say.   “I am,” he said. “I’ve had many names over the millennia—Hades, The Grim Reaper, The Angel of Death, Thanatos, Hel… the list continues, and the faces and genders change based on region.”  “What do you call yourself?” I asked.   “I do not call myself anything,” he stated as he finished picking up the last of the teacup and vanishing it before my eyes, along with the red stains on his gloves. “I simply am.”  “That’s a very enigmatic thing to say,” I said, a little put out. “What should I call you?”  “Call me whatever you like, Little Flower,” he said.  

And this is basically where I’m left off in the drafting process.

The story right now sits at about 13,000 words and I anticipate it finishing up around 20,000 words. I’m writing it as quickly as my brain will let me after finishing my daily freelancing writing, and I’m hoping to have it finished in the next couple of weeks. However, if you’d like to read the current iteration, it’s available on Kindle Unlimited or for just a dollar for the e-book version.

It isn’t bad in its current form, but it definitely will benefit from being fleshed out, I think you’ll see that.

In the meanwhile, I’m going to try to keep you guys in the loop on the whole process and the lead up to an Actual Proper Launch TM.

In the meanwhile, do you guys like updates like this? Or is this too much of an info dump? Comment below and let me know!

[strangelittlestories]

After the occupation, the princess was confined to the palace.

Once a month she'd be taken on a walk around the city, heavily guarded of course, to show the people that she still lived. It also served, of course, as a reminder of what they stood to lose if they made trouble. The princess did her best go wave and smile and give the people what encouragement she could.

The rest of the time, her life was spent in musty rooms and dusty towers. She filled most of her time scouring the castle for materials which she would sew into more and more elaborate outfits, which she would show off on the days when she was allowed outside.

Indeed, the public loved their princess and her dresses so much they'd often sketch or paint them along the route and pass the images on so that all could see the princess at least was well.

This pleased the occupiers for two reasons. First: it kept the princess out of trouble. Second: it gave them a reason to sneer and they did love a good sneer.

"What a vain creature she is!" They would remark.

"Doesn't even care we murdered her brothers so long as she gets enough satin to make her little dresses!" They squawked.

This was unfair, of course, for to call her creations "little dresses" was to call Queen Murderfun the Needlessly Genocidal "a tad piquey". Her dresses were gravity-defying wonders lace and pearl. They were thunderstorms captured in velvet and waterfalls summoned in silk. She was a wizard with silk.

Still, she bore their mockery with a tight smile and careful deference.

"Please, good sirs, my home, my people and my city now belong to you. Let me keep, at least, this one last joy."

And they sneered and they crowed most unpleasantly, but they let her keep her sewing room.

Of course, they would have known their mockery to be doubly unfair had they realised the true purpose of the princess's elaborate designs. For hidden in the intricate embroiderings across her gowns, jackets and fans, the princess had encoded secret (and very detailed) messages. When she would go on her monthly walk, the city's loyalists would line the route, sketching down the patterns to decode later.

Thus did the princess transmit all the occupiers' secrets (unearthed while supposedly 'searching the castle for old fabrics') to the city and thus did she build her resistance.

On the day the revolution finally came, she girded herself in armour of thick spider silk and whale bone. She cut a fine figure with a lacy handkerchief in her top pocket and a razor sharp knitting needle keeping her hair up.

As she waltzed through the castle to open the door for her army, the Usurper King tried to stop her and she simply unfolded her handkerchief and showed it to him.

Upon seeing the impossible arcane pattern emblazoned across it, he fell to the floor with blood streaming from his eyes.

She always had been a wizard with silk.

---

Thank you for reading. If you'd like to support my writing, you can do so at https://ko-fi.com/strangelittlestories

[roosterbox]

Heyyyyyyy Steddie thinky thought time again! And I’m putting it under a cut because, YET AGAIN, my hand slipped and I accidentally almost 2,000 words.

Tags: ANGST, miscommunication, HOH!Steve, Mean-and-Overly-Defensive!Eddie

So picture this, if you will…

High school AU. Probably no Upside-Down. Steve is deaf/HOH. He signs, but he knows that not everyone else does, and so few take the time to learn, especially not for him, so he usually carries around a notepad too. Just in case. Someone (probably Dustin, lbr) asks him to sit in on a Hellfire meeting. Heck, maybe even asks him to join. Steve is unsure, but he’s open to new experiences and Dustin always makes his favorite club sound really awesome (also the guy who runs the club is super cool and hot too, but shhhhhh). So sure - he’ll check it out.

The day comes and Steve gets there early. Like really early. In fact, he’s there before anyone else. Which is fine; he can use the extra free time to do a little homework, right? Thing is though, he’s so focused on his notebook that he doesn’t notice somebody else come in - Eddie. And there are four important things to note about Eddie.

He doesn’t know Steve is deaf.

He doesn’t know that Steve has been explicitly invited here by Dustin.

He knows Steve only by his reputation. So, not good.

He’s as protective of his club and the kids in it as a mama bear.

Needless to say, these four factors combine into a perfect storm, and Eddie is immediately on the offensive.

“Hey!” He says. “Hey, Harrington!” He continues when he gets no acknowledgement. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

No answer. Steve doesn’t even look at him. Just keeps writing in his notebook.

“Hey asshole! I’m talking to you!” Eddie’s volume is rising, as is his temper. Despite his uncle’s best efforts, Eddie’s never been the best at keeping cool. But, man, the disrespect. It tends to eat at him. And coming from King Steve of all people? Oooooooh doesn’t that just make his blood boil. Eddie stalks over to where Steve is sitting. If he thinks he’s gonna waltz in there and tease or humiliate any of Eddie’s little sheepies, he’s got another thing coming.

Steve, meanwhile, is just happily doing his homework. Maybe doodling a little in the margins. Wondering if Eddie looks as cool running the club as he does around school. Especially when he’s up on the lunch tables ranting about conformity. He’s so lost in thought that a sudden hand on his arm shocks him out of his chair, up to his feet. And just like that, he’s face to face with his secret crush, the one and only Eddie Munson. He smiles, but only for a moment as he sees Eddie’s furious expression. The other boy’s lips are moving. A little fast, but Steve does his best to read them.

“-hell are you doing here, Harrington? This isn’t one of your stupid jock sports teams. If you’re here to hurt these kids-“

Steve’s eyes widen. He tries to sign something. No, no.

Eddie sees Steve looking scared, waving his hands. It only serves to make him angrier. Steve sees he’s getting nowhere with sign, so he grabs his notepad and starts writing. He can still see Eddie saying something in his periphery, and he tries to write fast. To clear up any misunderstanding.

But then. Eddie goes too far. He manages to hit on one of Steve’s biggest insecurities mid-rant. And then he keeps digging at it. Steve stops writing and just… stares. Like a dog, Eddie cannot let go of the bone he’s found, so he keeps going. Insert any list of your favorite Steve insecurities here. His upbringing. His (bad) relationship with his parents. His reputation (which Steve hates so much). His intelligence. His fighting skills or lack thereof (poor Steve: getting beat up in every universe). And the worst part is how mean Eddie is about it. The kids tease Steve too, and yeah sometimes it hurts, but it’s never felt as outright cruel as it does when Eddie says it.

Steve’s eyes fill with tears, despite his best efforts, and while Eddie is mid sentence, Steve decides he’s had enough. He shoves his notepad at Eddie, into his chest, eliciting a surprised huffed exhale, before grabbing his bag and just running. He runs out the door, out of the building, to his car, and drives himself home. He doesn’t stop crying for hours.

Eddie, after the surprise of Steve shoving him and running out, just rolls his eyes. “Typical,” he mutters under his breath. “Fucking prick.”

He looks down at the notepad in his hands, still mad but also curious as to what Steve had thought was so important that he just had to start scribbling it down while Eddie yelled at him. And…

Not here to hurt, I swear. Dustin invited me. He’s like my little brother. I’m deaf - sorry couldn’t hear you talking. I’ve seen you around, and I think you’re pretty cool. I’ve never played DND before, but Dustin really loves it. Maybe I could-

That’s as far as it went. And man. Imagine the feeling of your heart sinking, dropping down past your stomach, through the ground itself before finally coming to a stop in the molten core of the earth. Imagine that, and you may experience a fraction of the almost instantaneous levels of guilt Eddie feels at that moment. All at once he thinks of how Steve had looked at him after he first got his attention. He had smiled. Fucking grinned. He was happy to see him. Happy to be there. Eager to see what Hellfire was all about. Eager to learn.

And Eddie had just taken that happiness, that earnest interest, and stomped on it. Crushed it utterly beneath his sneakers as if it were a cigarette butt.

The other guys start filing in. Including Dustin. But before he can say anything (maybe to ask where Steve is, and why the hell does Eddie have his notepad), Eddie shoves past them out the door.

“Eddie, what-“ Jeff starts.

“I’ll be right back,” Eddie calls over his shoulder as he quickly makes his way outside. Just in time to see Steve’s car speeding out of the parking lot. He curses, loud enough that a few students still milling about jump at the unexpected noise. Eddie doesn’t care. He messed up. He really fucking messed up, didn’t he?

He makes it up to Steve eventually. It takes time, of course; Steve’s trust is a hard thing to earn even on a good day, but after that first encounter? They’re not just starting at zero; they’re practically starting at -1000. He starts small. Little exchanges here and there. Usually with Dustin (or, occasionally, Steve’s best friend Robin, who looks at Eddie like she would flay him alive if Steve gave her the word) acting as a sort of buffer. It takes almost half a dozen of these group encounters before Steve says (writes) a single word to him, and even then it’s perfunctory. Cold. Simple. And it definitely hurts, just a little, especially since Eddie’s crush that he’s had on Steve since freshman year has been steadily growing with every exchange they have. As monosyllabic (if even syllabic at all) as they tend to be on Steve’s part. But every time he feels that hurt, Eddie thinks of how Steve had looked at him when he left the club that day. How sad and angry and frustrated. And he pushes his own (tiny, inconsequential by comparison) hurt aside. I can do more, he thinks.

One day, he manages to corner Steve on his own, without Dustin or Robin. Steve is annoyed - he still gets that sinking feeling of hurt whenever he’s with Eddie (which is enhanced (terribly so) by the stupid crush he has), and immediately pulls out his notepad. Starts writing on it. Something simple and to the point. Leave Me Alone. Or maybe Go Away. He gets as far as the first word before he realizes that Eddie isn’t talking. Not aloud, anyway. No, he’s signing. A bit clumsily, and a few of the words are wrong but close enough to understand. One sign is chief among them, though.

I’m sorry.

And in that moment, maybe, it hits home for Steve that Eddie really means it. Means it enough to try and learn an entirely new language to meet Steve where he is. He looks in Eddie’s eyes and he can see the guilt and shame swimming there. The hurt is still in him, that’s not going away with one apology (though this isn’t the first one Eddie has given him, of course), but still. Steve scratches out what he had been writing in favor of something else. After a second, he hands Eddie the paper.

I can’t forgive you. Not yet. You really hurt me. But thank you. When did you start learning to sign?

He sees Eddie’s eyes get a little watery as he reads, but then he’s handed back the notepad. He had thought that Eddie might take the easier route and just write it down, but no. Instead, with his hands free, Eddie continues signing.

A couple days ago. Stayed up all night. His cheeks were darkening. Blushing in shame at his rudimentary skills. Bad at it. Sorry.

And maybe it’s just because Eddie is one of only a handful of people Steve has met that have taken it upon themselves to learn sign, or maybe it’s that damn crush he can’t seem to lose, but Steve shakes his head. No, he signs, trying to keep it simple. Good.

Eddie looks away, signing Bad again. Steve touches his hand, the first point of actual physical contact they’ve had since that day at the Hellfire Club. Their eyes meet, and Steve signs, with as much emphasis as he can, GOOD. And then, Thank You.

Eddie looks down, suddenly feeling oddly shy. He’s still blushing but he also can’t help but smile. There’s the ghost of a dimple on his cheek, making Steve’s heart give a weak little flutter.

You’re welcome, Eddie signs.

After a long moment, Steve writes something down. He doesn’t want to overwhelm Eddie with signs yet. Not to mention that he doesn’t know how deep his (apparently only days-old) knowledge base goes. Best to go easy on him.

Maybe we could… start over?

He holds it up for Eddie to read, face a picture of inquisitive hope. The other boy nods, starts trying to sign, but gets frustrated rather quickly before holding out his hand for the notepad. Steve chuckles and hands it over, not missing the way Eddie’s blush deepens even further at the sound he probably made. Maybe his crush isn’t as one-sided as he’d been thinking.

Yes! Absolutely! If we are, then consider this your “first” official invitation to the Hellfire Club. Today, after school. (There’s a “I” here but it’s scribbled out) We would love to have you there.

I’ll be there, Steve writes. And, after Eddie reads it, he makes sure to get the other boy’s attention before he slowly signs the same thing. I’ll be there.

[cinnbar-bun]

For the love of god please write some more for brook!

A/n: you didn’t specify BUT I LOVE BROOK SO I SHALL COMPLY WITH MANY MORE !! More under the cut!

More General SFW Brook HCs!!

Brook likes you washing his afro. It makes him smile when you two sit in the bath together and you just put your shampoo in his hair. He likes to try out different scents to make his hair smell nice.

Matching outfits are a must. You two are practically always a coordinated duo. Either you two wear complementary colors, or you get one half of an outfit and Brook will take the other half (i.e. he’ll take the top of his outfit and you can take the bottom, while he’ll take the bottom of your outfit.)

Sorry Brook smoking is so hot so him lighting one up at night or when he’s chilling with you. Probably one of the few times anyone will see him smoke while his records are playing as he has an arm around you.

He absolutely writes songs about you. He’s had many songs based on things you two did or how he loves you.

To add onto it: if you were dating/in the talk stage before the timeskip, during the timeskip while he’s on a world tour, he would create many of those songs to wish you well and hopes you can hear them. It’s his way of communicating how much he loves and misses you while he’s performing.

More Soul King shenanigans, whenever he’s interviewed, they always ask him about any relationships. Brook tries to keep his mouth shut about you but sometimes lets something slip then goes ‘oop!’ And covers his mouth. It’s usually innocent and always sweet, so people definitely recognize how much he loves you.

If you have trouble seeing or reaching anything, fear not, your tall skeleton will help. Whether you want him to reach it for you or lift you up, he’s happy to do so.

Always wants to dance and especially wants to dance with you. Brook can go all day and night (since he’s dead!) and he just loves experiencing life with you. He can party it up with you, tango, waltz, whatever you wish!

If you are big on cosmetics, you should absolutely try to put some on him. Brook will totally let you do it and has no shame flaunting it. Add the most outrageous and sparkly colors and make sure to use big false eyelashes.

Often has a habit of saying ‘boo!’ whenever he’s nearby. Not to scare you (at least he hopes he doesn’t), but more of a ‘just walking to you then jokingly saying boo’.

Likes cheesy nicknames from you. Call him pookie. Call him Bone Daddy. Soul King. Whatever. He adores it. The change is incredible and the Straw Hats like watching as he’ll be having a serious conversation one minute, then after hearing you say a nickname, he’s all lovestruck and responds “coming darling!!!”

Brook prefers to order large desserts and share them with you whenever you two go out. He loves the romanticism of sharing a milkshake or sundae or whatever else you two get. He lives for that classic type of activity.

Prefers to hold the umbrella for you in the sun or rain. That’s the kind of gentleman he is.

Always cooing and smiling when it comes to you. If you do anything remotely cute or adorable he’s fawning over you.

When it’s night time he prefers to spoon you and hold you close. If you’re not there he has trouble sleeping.

[ms0milk]

𝟏𝟑 | 𝐁𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐳𝐤𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐠

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"Inside of you, fury has been replaced by something black and entirely unfocused. He twists to glare at what has caught him under the arm. He blinks when he sees it is you."

no cw memories of an overprotective prince and high fever. author is blatantly in love with Kirishima. whole apologies, half apologies, wordless promises, technical treason. learning how to speak softly. covering each other's mouths so the truth can't slip out because I want them to kiss as badly as you do. somewhat suggestive. nonviolent touches in the palatial bedroom of a long-dead prince. part ii: fin 6.7k

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Mina Ashido is sick, not like you finally breathing softly on a bed the size of a merchant village, but with guilt. She flicks a bric-à-brac she found on some grand writing desk and Denki punches her shoulder when her nail taps the metal absentmindedly. Click. Thud.

Their eyes dart to the far side of the room across a row of white windows and stop on the knotted body of their prince, folded like a trench soldier on a chaise half his size. His hair shags over his sleeping face and crossed arms but Mina can still see the veins of his jaw, clenched and dreaming of adrenaline.

One loud sound might be it for them– Bakugou would eulogize sleep schedule before skinning them like fish but it’s four in the afternoon and Mina knows it’s actually because your fever broke this morning and he would detonate if anyone disturbed you.

You can lay there like an angel because you never really fall asleep, right? Sick as a dog and dreaming of work. Sero pokes his head inside for a second to check the firewood cache and steps out again. Kirishima wears a path from the kitchen to your new bedroom with his constant lumber deliveries because he knows you wouldn’t want to see him at your bedside. Dead, conscious, or otherwise. All four of them rot.

You make a spectacle of the prince wherever he’s seen with you and this time you weren’t even awake to witness your destruction. Bakugou, dripping wet for some reason, roared through the halls of Takoba at midnight which wouldn’t have been special save for how tightly he held you and how little you moved. Safe but limp in the crook of his neck.

The castle at midnight is so much more lovely than during the day. There are no accusing Takoban eyes to make your Alderan shoulders itch and there was no loss of dignity in practicing her waltz in an empty ballroom. Mina swayed safe and alone and filled with excitement for the impending party. She anticipated Uraraka and practiced her flirtiest glances to deploy when the soldier inevitably found her, as she did every night, and sent her back upstairs. Mina was just a mage after all, not a lord or lady. Not a royal guard.

Boom! Rattled the ceiling from the floor above and where Mina was expecting a round-faced girl she’d gotten a heart attack. She snapped her candle in a startled fist at the first familiar eruption and darted up two staircases to Kirishima’s quarters with the second and third.

The champion was already half dressed. The heartbeat of the castle woke him up, the sound of hundreds of little bees mobilizing at royal orders.

They joined the flocks of servants and butlers in their night clothes all crowding, choking yawns, and rushing through the hallways, up higher and deeper into those frozen parts of the castle where their prince’s fury vibrated. The place no one dared breathe since the king left eleven years ago.

The North Wing was closed forever and someone had lit a spark at its highest point. Maids to her right, butlers and nurses to his left, Kirishima and Mina became insignificant in the river of nightgowns and candles and slippers and whispers. There is always more staff in Takoba than soldiers. Who could he have possibly picked a fight with at this hour? The farther Takobans hiked, the deeper their bones felt the cold in this place no one should be. Death march.

“Katsuki!” Someone rasped. The champion hoisted Mina onto his shoulders when they could no longer force themselves forward up stairs and through archways. Only little Shuzenji’s great big voice called out clearly for the crowd to hear, “Katsuki– you’ll be arrested, this– this is, I mean, you’re– fuck.”

At the end of the hallway, two red doors hung open, one truly dangling by its top hinges. The prince crouched just inside, squat by the light of a beautiful fireplace and its fine tinder. Chairs and ottomans, a writing desk, curtains and rugs, all delicate and silver and crushed and melting and screaming with moisture in a white Alderan fire.

“She needs fresh air and a fucking fireplace.”

You were melting in his arms too, quietly.

Sweating and indifferent to how carefully he supported the back of your head or with what level of self control it took for him to surrender you into the lap of the exasperated Takoban doctor. 

“This is a lot of fuss for a fever, Katsuki.”

“Get useful or die trying.”

Six footmen at the front of the crowd panicked at his words and knelt immediately to collect splinters from shattered furniture. They winced as the crowds continued to push around and above them to get a view of just what the Alderan guest would do with Prince Touya’s long dead bedroom.

He knelt in it. When the fire in its place wheezed, he fed it the dead boy’s gilded furniture and knelt again near you.

He lurched but didn’t strike when you were moved from the floor to the bed and found a seat again. He glared at loud noises from the foot of the bed but sat still as superstitious servants trembled while lighting candles. He rumbled when Princess Fuyumi squeezed herself through the frozen crowd with Uraraka in tow and immediately made an order for fresh bedlinens and firewood because before anything, before she was even a sister she was a saint.

He didn’t do too much more than that. He sat like a threat until dawn while staff and nurses buzzed around to make the North Wing breathe again. He waited for arrest.

He frowned at his Alderan company as they hovered in the doorway and sometimes he let them sit with you when he knew he needed to sleep. He balled his fists as he told them your misunderstanding and nothing else. More than anything he waited for you to wake up.

Prince Bakugou sleeps like a psychopath, you bewilder as you rub your eyes. He’s still pretty, knotted half a million ways to hell on the velvet chaise across the room and seeing him asleep is much more unusual than seeing him surrounded by books like this. There’s a pile at his feet and another at his head and a console table between them for his teacup and a pen.

It’s less scary to think about touching him when he’s sleeping. About rubbing his shoulder with your soft palm and stumbling back to this obnoxiously comfortable bed with his heat at your back– no. About rolling over in this obscenely large bed through morning chill and sunlight to find his magic-worn hands already pulling you against him. Fumbling to tuck every part of you inside his arms half-alseep– slipping under your–

About finally throwing your weapon aside as dust settles, victorious, and rattling his skull with the bloodiest punch you can manage. Breaking your fingers on his golden jaw– about kneeling over his battered body, panting, as he uses the last of his strength to raise his arms, to– no– to trace his fingers over your cheeks– no– and through your hair where you loom above him. About letting him pull you down with the last of his strength to kiss you on the battlefield.

Something outside clatters and crashes and your eyes fly open as you sit up in the room you made in a dream. You rub your eyes, deja vu, and spot your golden prince right where you left him. Scowling, pretty, on a sofa across the room in the afternoon sun. Someone shouts outside and you lurch from an aggressively comfortable bed with the confidence of a person who has just woken up without a question for reality. You are a captain and there’s violence outside the place where your prince is sleeping. No thoughts to your ten-pound beddress or the continental mystery bedroom or the fire that blazes in its white marble fireplace.

“You oaf!” Someone hisses as you pitter-patter pitter-patter and clear the room barefoot to throw open one of two elven doors. That someone is Mina. She is pretty and pink and she stares at you with her mouth open in a hallway cold enough to outline her breath in small puffs of shock.

Takoba is a series of beautiful rooms tied to tall hallways, this one’s no different. Mina is bathed in the warmest sunlight October can offer even in a place like this and she’s hunched and pointing in the middle of scolding Sero who has also frozen to stare at you on his knees halfway through reaching for a log that’s gotten away from him.

“Do you need help?”

Mina reaches for you like the air is too thick to move. You almost call her Lady again before you remember.

“Y/n,” she breathes. Sero is forgotten on the floor because you’re suddenly here in this doorway while the last vestiges of sleep drip off of you, gooey, onto the marble. “Y/n, are you–” she slips your hands into hers when she manages a step forward.

Bakugou and the sea, right? A column of fire in your chest and a trip back home. Was touching him a dream? They’re no lords. I hate you. One lost Alderan earring and two hands holding you. Last time they were golden and trembling.

Mina’s fingers twitch with every word out of her mouth, “I’m so sorry.”

“Mina, don’t–” Sero tries to stop her.

“We’re so sorry, Y/n, so so sorry, please gods we’re–” 

“Mina.”

Her body goes rigid but her hands stay soft on yours when she snaps at him, “Like you weren’t in tears two days ago! Don’t pretend to be cool.”

You become aware of your clothes for the first time when you consider their earnest Alderan faces and your tangled hands. Completely unarmed in a quilted dress that drags on the ground. Seashells twinkle when you move.

“Course I’m sorry,” Sero shudders. He rises and your eyes finally adjust well enough to sunlight to catch Kaminari standing statue-still beside a window where it appears you burst onto the scene as he was making to close it, “she’s my captain.”

If you weren’t still processing his lack of lordship you’d order him to his knees for the treason of calling you captain. What purpose does he serve in the castle? A mage like Mina? You cock your head and stuffy nose, and shift to shake away the inconvenient thought that someone’s been calling you captain for weeks with no punishment. Kaminari breathes, “Katsuki told us.”

“We thought you knew– we never meant to–!” And again your attention is on Mina, desperately closer than she’s ever been. Closer than anyone’s dared to hold you gently, “We thought you were playing Y/n, we– I should have said something.”

And of all the things to remember from that night, delirium and immodesty, a humiliating rescue, thoughts that meant to stay inside forever, I hate you, the taste of someone else’s teasweet breath– the one bites the least. They’re not lords.

It’s cold out here, you should invite the lot of them inside to warm up. You should ask them where the fuck you are.

“It’s my mistake Ms. Mina,” you smile pretty like you’ve trained for, “Harmless. Don’t worry.”

Three huge eyes blink out of sync surely because someone thought it was funny to put you in a queen’s night dress and hide your shoes. It’s better they’re not lords to be seeing you in the state.

“We,” Sero starts confidently and trails off with the syllable. Mina’s thinking.

Kaminari speaks beside the window and the three of you turn to his light, “We watched you grow up in that beautiful castle,” he hums. He has spoken with you twice, three times now, and it’s never been particularly affective or affectionate but he’s right that home is beautiful. Aldera is lots of things. You falter in the doorway now that adrenaline has bled from you into Mina’s hands. “You were in my letters class.”

Eight years old and late for Letters in a thunderstorm that swept you to the prince and clobbered you both with peaches. The students gaped when you stepped inside, dripping rainwater and bruised, to take your seat at the head of the class with a weapon still strapped to your back. Kaminari looks as if on the verge of tears which all feels a bit melodramatic for one damp day fifteen-some years ago. “I was afraid of you. Y/n, I’m so sorry.”

“I –” Mina releases your hands so she can stand a bit taller, so you turn, “I believed what people told me, Y/n, I’m sorry. I listened in the kitchens and spellhalls when they told me you never eat or sing, I believed them every time I scurried past your post with an errand and back again where you hadn’t moved a breath for hours.” It’s kind that she’s not touching as she speaks but the cold of the hallway is pinching your stupid bare feet. You never cared enough to pay attention to her either, why should she apologize? You never noticed her out of the tens of children that studied with you, worked around you, served you, fell to you in training. 

“When you didn’t recognize us at the start of the trip I thought you were so cool. I thought, no, it was just so cool to be traveling with the only Alderan apprentice– Spear of the Queen– you– I watched you get stronger for years. Sero would come to the potion pantry while Kaminari and I organized and gush about any impossible whathaveyou Jeanist’s Second pulled off in the gallery that day. Any Alderan could recognize you from footsteps, you’re– I– I’m not doing a good job.”

“She’s sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” she confirms and hovers between your bodies like she’s warming her hands with your fire. “You’re a hero. I’m just a training mage the prince can’t get rid of and you’ve saved the skin off our skulls more times than there are calendars. Y/n,” you look between Mina who presses no closer and the boys behind her, “I’m a coward, I want to know everything about you.”

You are ridiculous, dressed up in a doorway at noon with no idea how you got there and a hunger that teeters on allconsuming. You are a soldier. You are Jeanist’s soldier, you are his prodigy you should have shoes– 

Something startles your Alderan company, shoulders jumping, and Sero drops to a knee when he registers the dark cloud gathering behind his commanding officer wilting in a nightgown by the sea.

“Wers, there he goes.”

“I am bound by blood and at your service, my captain! My behavior is unacceptable while you have been serving alone in Takoba.”

A soldier then. Mina turns from her friend on the floor to gauge your new reactions while Kaminari presses two footsteps closer. That night comes back in pieces. You reach for your ear and pinch one lobe in icy fingers while the Alderans look on. What part of the dream is this? First Bakugou, his warmth and anger now these three? What will this one melt into? More fevered confessions? Send them away.

You feel the bark in your throat and wait to see which one of them will scurry from you first. Have they heard your soldier’s voice before?

Go on. No one moves because you can’t actually make the sound. Sero doesn’t raise his head. They are mages and you outrank them. Be gone. “Just–” what finally comes out isn’t the voice of a soldier at all, “please.”

“I’ll help you to bed,” Mina tentatively leans forward as you lean exactly back.

“not necessary.”

“Y/n, you’ve been out for three days,” Kaminari closes in too, “We’ll throw some logs on your fire and get out of your hair, but first can we make sure you’re okay? Call the doctor and get you some food?”

You can only lean so far before you need to take a step, and then only so far after that before your back hits the door that has shut behind you. You haven’t been sick because you don’t get sick. You’ve been dreaming, too much, which is worse.

A series of hollow crashes startle the Alderans again half out of their coats but you haven’t been caught by surprise in seven years.

“Y/n,” Kirishima hardly whispers, barely breathes where he’s appeared a little ways down the hall, dropping stacks of lumber from his arms onto the marble. He didn’t grow up in the castle. He showed up a few years ago stuck to the hem of Bakugou’s cape like tree sap and he’s always made every effort to smile. A smile from a stranger doesn’t mean much.

“Y/n,” he whispers again and staggers forward like he’s tried to catch himself from tripping, “you’re–” at first he is relief and then you remember, in a moment of lucidity, that you’re upset with him. “You’re awake.”

His limp hair flounders red in your direction. What right does he have to look so disheveled? Dark circles and a creased forehead, for what? His palms and sleeves are flecked with splinters and filth that he tries to brush off as he steps over firewood– tree trunks really– that now litter the hallway.

Fury gives you the strength to step forward, “You–”

“You,” the distance is closed. Alderans have stopped pressing into you and watch their companion, rosy cheeks, dark stubble, smile lines thrown to the wayside and big, wet eyes, reach, “You scared me.” And on contact he dissolves into a sob.

Kirishima grabs your sleeve first without his usual care and wrenches you deep into his arms. Maybe you’re tired, you don’t strike him as he shakes.

“You, you have to tell someone, Y/n,” you can only hear the words through vibrations in his chest and now the whole hallway smells like sweet Alderan fire. You should be suffocated, furious, you shouldn’t close your eyes. “You can’t just collapse. No one needs to be that strong– it– you– ’m so sorry.” 

The champion’s fingers clutch at the back of your neck and shoulders but you’re too shocked to notice until his warmth, his fire and safety, pulls you away by the cheeks. Kirishima cradles your face in two hands that could crush and tries to speak through agony. Drowning teardrops plummet off his black lashes, “it must have been so lonely.”

And what Mina saw as exhaustion, Sero anger, folds the corners of your mouth like paper, lips trembling, and wets both eyes with a blink.

It is something inexplicable like being thirteen on your way home from Peruro. A day of joy, song dance and feats of strength. Fencing competitions. They don’t give toy swords to soldiers and so you slipped inside the quietest part of the celebrating castletown, victorious two years running, bloodied and something more than tired. Crunch. As you approached the basin in the stables for jockeys to rinse mud from their eyes, you lifted your boot just enough to watch the broken green body of a mantis fall apart between the ground and your tread. One thin arm, little just like yours, remained untouched by your footprint and detached entirely from the creature that was just two more arm’s-lengths too slow.

You were startled for the last time in your glance to the mirror. You usually rinsed muck or sweat off your cheeks in the stables and the horses were here, the smell and warmth were here, but today you were splashed in blood. And so much worse than that, tears ran clean streaks through the filth. When you fall to pieces in your beautiful dress beside the sea it is impossible to hide.

“Please can we help you?” Kirishima blubbers through a smile before you nod, and he pulls you back in tight.

It is so strange to be held and uninjured. A hand materializes at the top of your head and more bodies surround you in the dark of Kirishima’s chest. Splinters poke at your cheeks but you press through them. You hold tight to the fabric of his sleeves and wrap a warm finger around the cold fingers that find yours.

It’s condescending and so unnaturally welcomed. You can’t even cry right. The tears fall and your voice breaks uneven because you’ve forgotten how to breathe with a lump in your throat, how long has it been? Steady arms hold you upright as you try to remember. Anything for you, Majesty. Don’t need a babysitter. Who’re you lookin at? Cover yourself. Captain! Y/n! Yes sir. Yes sir. Yes sir.

“I’m.. ‘m so hungry,” you sob in muffled fragments and the champion rumbles with true tearful laughter,

“She’s hungry!”

Mina wraps herself around your back and grips the knit of Kirishima’s tunic to keep all three of you tight together. She’s crying too from the sound of it, and rambling as always through the tears, “Don’t just drop dead in the hallway for Kats to collect! Thought he was gonna torch the castle–” she shakes you all, Kirishima as the lighthouse, “my blood pressure’s never recovering from this week snakes on high I know we deserved it but we haven’t had a moment’s rest with that lunatic playing bedside officer,” she is still gentle when she touches you, when she rubs her cheeks to yours, when she leans herself into the champion’s hold to be that much closer, “I’m a much better nurse, Y/n, promise, I promise wouldn’t–”

“Talkin shit?” 

What if someone had found you that day in the stables, instead of clapping you on the back for the day’s bloody victories and ignoring your red rimmed eyes? Bakugou crosses his arms over his golden chest and leans against the doorway framed by fire whipping in the bedroom behind him. It’s subtle, but the heat’s made his ears pink. No one moves.

“A bit..”

Mina stuffs her hand over Kirishima’s wobbling lips before he says anything else to get you all sent to the gallows. You just watch and the prince watches back; over the champion’s soft forearms and part of a filthy cotton coat, and partially through Mina’s hair. Bakugou’s collarbones roll with his breath where they poke out from his soft tunic, same with his stomach. It fills slightly with each heartbeat like he’s still too sleepy to harden himself and his posture.

You’re warm in this October hallway and your heart has been picked open by fruithungry doves. Bleeding down the front of this nice white nightgown, pooling rich at your feet. It’s easier to look at him when you’re crying. You stare through a crack in the hug with stray tears tumbling from your eyes like springs.

I’m not letting you out of my sight.

“Go on then, down mutts.” The prince unfolds and steps forward to pry Mina’s arms apart, “Couldn’t trust you assholes to be quiet if I cut out your tongues.”

His Alderan company thaws slightly at the sarcasm and the hands tying you together unravel at every angle under his orders until you are the only one standing on the stain your bleeding heart made.

Prince Bakugou is not the same as he was when he carried you from the sea. He surveys your heavy beddress and bare feet with a frown but no fireworks and today he’s wearing no jewelry at all. Not a ruby, bone, nor sun in sight. He is still clearly out of place here, golden milk and glowing like coals; two red eyes that love to glare and his lips that called your name as you both choked on ocean foam.

“Hungry?”

You nod and the shake dislodges loose tears.

He grunts and tips his head towards the bedroom door, “Back inside. The rest of you,” and then turns to his company who has stiffly lined up along the wall to try and avoid the punishment their prince laid out very clearly in the event a series of Alderan shenanigans woke you up, “put your pea brains together and track down Uraraka– she’s late. And stop fucking crying.”

The prince would pull rank against a baby. He oozes control and ego and desperation for the self and it is infuriating how much he gets away with and how often he is right. His eyes are pomegranate seeds behind slits that shift constantly towards you in the cold hallway.

“Go on.”

You exchange a glance with your company behind you and each one of them is glowing with life. Mina has cleaned herself up with a smile and Kaminari leans against her, almost behind her, grinning nervously at his hellfire prince. Sero and Kirishima fight back tears and the lot of them hold their breath.

The mages delay their prince’s orders no longer. They file down the hallway. “Welcome back, Y/n!” Mina waves and rolls her eyes at Bakugou’s seething.

“Rest well,” Kirishima smiles and wipes his eyes with his filthy sleeve while collecting the logs he dropped. Kaminari manages a curtsy, which makes you laugh, and they all round the corner with unsubtle exhales.

For all his spitfire, cunning and rage, for all their worry and apology, your Alderan company never objects to leaving you alone with the prince. For all their apologies, for all his harsh words and actions. Is it their trust in you, or their trust in him? Alone and for a moment you stand just two arm’s lengths away from your prince while he looks pointedly down the hallway after their footsteps. His posture is returning. He rakes his hand like a claw through his hair to settle in itch and pauses for one more beat before turning to you. Prince Bakugou saved your life and you told him you hate him.

He cocks his head, “You look like shit.”

“Feel like shit, Highness.”

One fricative cough like laughter slips out of his chest and his eyes widen a bit, as if surprised by himself, before settling back to a scowl. He’s soft today, sleep deprived. You wipe the last of the salt from your eyes.

“Go back inside,” He instructs as he moves forward and corrals you back step by step.

“Where am I?”

Fury has been replaced by something wet inside of him, doused and smoking like a forest fire. He slips past you inside the white bedroom and marches to the camp he set up around his chaise to collect two books and a pen, which he tucks inside one cover before sticking both volumes under his arm. Prince Bakugou saved your life and slept beside you, and you told him you hate him.

You step toward him when he walks past again, this time out into the hallway, just too quickly for you to trap him with a stare. Your stomach cramps with hunger and your throat is dry from crying.

“Just go lay down.”

He does not get farther than one step over the threshold before you reach though, and clutch the hem of his tunic in a clammy hand.

Inside of you, fury has been replaced by something black and entirely unfocused. He twists to glare at what has caught him under the arm. He blinks when he sees it is you.

Prince Bakugou saved your life. He turns now when you dare to touch him, and when he looks at you the smoke inside him pours from his ears. The eye contact is not difficult like a spotlight or the sun, it’s more like a candle in the dark that stains the backs of your eyes for many few minutes. He looks like a dream in your delirium. What you must look like beneath him..

He squeezes his books tight under his bicep and fully squares himself to you, “I didn’t,” he starts. It’s a croak. It’s foreign to speak so softly as he speaks now, so softly you drop your hand from him and lean away. His ears are still red. “I didn’t tell them,” he frowns with thought, “about the sea.”

You stare at him like always and today like a void, and melt a little in front of the candle he is. What else is there to say? You nod and move away. His wax will burn you.

“Don’t–” he huffs. You weren’t surprised for seven years, not through contests or training, not under orders, not truly by the queen at the foot of your bed all those weeks ago, not camping with your new company and holding magic in your palms, not by blue fire. Bakugou clutches your wrist, your hand, when you turn away from him and the static shock makes each hair on your body rise. He squeezes your fingers through the goosebumps.

“Don’t ever–”

“Yes sir.”

“– not ever again.”

“Yes–”

“Y/n.”

You look forward unblinking while your prince reels you in like a fish, rolling your fingertips in his palm. You can’t even manage a frown when you face him, all that bubbles up is bitten lips.

You get one more chance to look at him, and when you do he doesn't bark or spit. Earnest red eyes watch under a frown.

“Just a prayer gone wrong, Highness. I promise.” You can’t feel the faint smile. You do not know what makes his eyes widen or scowl fall.

Someone clears their throat in the doorway behind him and the pair of you jump. Bakugou is quick to catch the books that fall from under his arm and you both rush to wipe your hands at your hips. Uraraka. She leans her weight against the door, “Sleeping beauties,” and smiles at you while your prince jerks away.

“You’re late,” he spits and pushes into the hallway.

“High Lords are waiting.”

“Spare me.”

Uraraka preens less than your Alderans but still ushers you to bed and rings a bell on the wall labeled ‘kitchen.” A log falls in the fireplace. Embers spit onto the marble hearth. The last glimpse of gold you catch is in your prince closing the bedroom door behind him, his hand like a claw again violently tousling his hair. You are a liar, you lie and tell lies, and you do not hate him at all.

Embarrassment is replaced with shame when you learn the princess has filled your new dressers with her old winter nightclothes. And when Uraraka tells you about her brother, the late prince, and his palatial bedroom locked away from the world with his mother’s sorrow.

You will find the princess tomorrow and press your head to the floor at her feet, you will kneel to the queen in thanks for her generosity, but tonight you will find your prince.

It won’t take long. Uraraka told you where his meeting was while she braided your hair and only half-heartedly instructed you to stay in bed when you asked for privacy. There is no lame guard stationed outside of this room, a room so high in the castle the fireplace can suck oxygen straight from the night sky above you. Warm like home. It’s easy to keep a fire that excited alive so you tent logs over the embers to feed it while you’re gone. Your white arming doublet blocks the cold– dragontooth brooch glowing– when you step into the hallway lit by torchlight, a gift and invitation from Master Aizawa.

The hallway is thawing slowly from it’s edges to its center and seems to be lined with every flammable item one could think of; candlesticks, torches, candelabrum, chandeliers– if a flame escaped from your fireplace the castle would burn from this hallway to it’s cornerstones like a match.

You smile watching the fire dance in place as you walk past them and into darker parts of the castle. Down staircases and through white hallways lined with their seed-sized carvings. Your temples ache with the change in temperature.

“Office of the King?” You ask a passing footman and they make a point to avoid eye contact before murmuring directions and shuffling away. Deeper you descend and even with rest and warm food in your belly your lungs start to work with great effort. “Office of the King?” You catch a housekeeper this time who is less timid but still keeps his head down like you are noble.

“Straight ahead,” he points and when he bows slightly to leave you no longer register his presence, because a fluffy golden head slips back inside a door in the hallway. You step down the last stair in front of you and into the corridor. Your boots would creak on wooden floors at home but along the marble you are silent.

There aren’t half enough torches down here to adequately light the way or warm the castle from the chill of its many windows. The door your prince tucked back inside of glows when you approach it. This is when you would steady your hand on your weapon, or shift your shoulder blades to feel the weight of your master’s halberd.

Office of the King. You trace the silver details with eyes and fingers because it is beautiful and you have finally found all the places your prince could possibly hide. With your relief you should have considered how to hide from him. The door flies open with too little forewarning for you to dodge and stops just short of knocking you across an already throbbing temple. Bakugou emerges in an air of tempest.

“Knew it,” he crackles like you are exactly who he was looking for and is wholly aggravated by it, “you’re fucking fired, get back in bed.”

He is wearing fine silks from Aldera and their golden fixtures and tassels stop your heart. His hair is soft tonight. It is pushed back with a jeweled comb so that pointed fringes fall barely over his eyes while medals and brooches pin silk in a bunch at the shoulder of his gambeson. He looks more like a general ready for war than a guest in a seashell castle.

The prince simmers, “We’re planning the ball not a coup, I don’t need a sentinel.” And squints when you don’t budge, eyes unfocused. He tuts his head in the direction you came, “Rest. Now.”

“Yes Majesty– Highness,” you snap and reach for a pair of passing maids who squeak when they can’t get past the Alderans fast enough to hide, “one of you, fetch me a chair.”

“Belay that,” he growls and they squeak again, “you’re a fucking handful.”

Bakugou pauses on you for three seconds and rolls his eyes before turning back inside to address someone, “Please continue without me,” with a voice you’ve never heard before.

When your prince walks you back to your bedroom he steers you from just slightly behind and at the exact angle you would use to escort a prisoner to the Hold. The only signs from him are in the thick of his black trousers beside your own legs or a sleeve ushering you up a staircase. When your breathing becomes obvious he slows pace. If you lean the wrong direction his head dips down close to glare and guide you with a trail of smoke. He’s only this quiet when he’s thinking.

What’s the time? Stars twinkle at the highest points of the castle lined with torches and tall windows.

“Ahead,” Bakugou murmurs and waves you forward with an open palm to the red doors around the bend. Your own corner of Takoba. You don’t remember the night that you were brought here. You don’t remember anything past, ‘I hate you.’

The prince clears his throat to answer your unvoiced question, “Shuzenji arranged it. Told the queen you needed a fireplace.” He walks clear through the logical spot to stop and leave you on your own for the evening, and marches right beside you to the doors. Add the doctor to your tour of thank yous and apologies.

“I told that shit apprentice not to leave you alone. You’re the gods' perfect little flight risk.”

It would be easier to stand close together if you still brimmed with unbridled fury. You drift beside him, too tired for any strong feelings one way or another. He does not hint at eruption. Your prince only grumbles and watches to make sure you step fully inside after pushing down the door’s silver handle.

The wave of hot air inside is a cushion at the end of what should have been a simple journey and instead knocked the four winds out of you. They were telling the truth, you must have been fighting something for days. It could be midnight, it could be dusk, your body cannot tell the time past its fatigue. There’s one more thing you have to do before you can give it what it wants.

“Kirishima’s coming to morning meetings tomorrow. I don’t need you both,” the prince speaks awkwardly loud like the thought came out too fast. He is telling you to rest.

“Yes, sir.”

“Wait for summons.”

He’s asking you to trust him.

“Yes sir.” You are too tired to lace the words with instigation and so Bakugou does not flinch like you like him to do when you call him sir. You turn away from the white warmth, fine cushions and curtains and fireplace, back to His Highness still stood stubbornly under your doorway. His headpiece glistens in the moonlight.

You will be his captain and you are not too good for a borrowed pair of greaves. You do not hate him. He can be the first stop on your tour.

Weary in your own little world and surrounded finally by fire, you steady your hands at your side and bend to take a knee. Forgive my…lots of things. “I’m–”

But Bakugou reacts again faster than you can fall. He jerks forward and catches you by both shoulders with his spark-leathered hands. The the last creature alive that can still startle you, not with his hold or speed, not with his magic, but his eyes. He stares through you in distress behind a pinched and stormy gaze. Spilled wine.

“Do not,” his voice rumbles through his touch. He pulls you up to standing and does not back away. Each hint his shoulders give promises that he will close any gap you try to make and so you do not move. He’s warm, his ears are red. Bakugou reaches between the gold clasps of his tunic and pulls out his fist for you to puzzle over in the few seconds it takes him, first to breathe, and then to open his hand.

One tiny sun, no bigger than an apple seed and polished to its core, twinkles like a spark on his palm.

He makes fine magic for you, he always has and you’ve never known it. He breathes again, “I. I’m..”

And you don’t mean to startle him, touch or stop him, but you do all three in rapid succession. Your hand jumps to his mouth because you don’t know how else to stop the birth of a star. You’re not ready for an apology.

His eyes mirror yours in their paralysis, his cloudy, yours panicked. His lips are damp. They part against your skin for a moment as he breathes once more deeply. As he closes his eyes– breathes you in. As you contend with the pulse of his tongue one last shock away from tasting the salt between your fingers. He is soft here. Here and when he wraps his own hand around your knuckles to disarm you. He does not let go when he lowers your hand, he does not let go after tucking the sun into your palm and closing your fist around it. Just for a moment.

Infinity is what exists in the void that replaced your fury and tonight it is full of fruit. Bruising peaches. Falling plums. Sneaking dinner under the Oak to watch his twinkling magic and to hide from crowds. Never questioning why students who told ghost stories about the child soldier never dared to bother you. Ignoring the peculiarity of Jeanist taking only one apprentice.

Inside, your expertly timed fire eats itself up in the silence and collapses to break the trance.

Immediately Bakugou dips away. He pulls back like you were the one holding him in place and leaves you briskly with his heart in your hands. He shakes his head and barks like a startled dog and does not look behind him, “Another time.”

The fire giggles and spits out embers. He hurries down the hallway because something in him died at sea to save you.

As you jump and skitter inside to the smell of smoldering rugs, your brooch and earring lay side by side where you toss them and leave them and try to sleep despite them, safe on the green velvet chaise.

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[mlmxreader]

Sickness | Crowley x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ 21. "Help! Someone help me! Is someone there? Hey! Oh shit, I'm probably dead."

14. "Fuck that, I'm the king

With Crowley please and thanks! ❞

: ̗̀➛ When you get sick, Crowley takes it upon himself to try and make you feel good so that maybe you won't wallow so much in it.

trigger warnings: ̗̀➛ swearing, sickness, mentions of attempted murder

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

You grumbled as you got out of bed, a cold but familiar chill in the room as you clutched your sides and coughed until they ached. Of all the fucking things in the world, you just had to go and develop a fucking pissing cough. Typical.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head to try and clear it a little, making your way through the hallway. But it was desolate, completely empty - no demons lurked around the corners, and no one there to bother you like they usually did every morning. That was odd.

Crowley always made sure that there was someone stationed near your door; it was for your own protection, he told you. You knew it was bullshit. He had his men stationed outside your door to make sure that you didn't burst out and threaten the Winchesters every time they waltzed in like they owned the place.

But... you loved him too much to complain, really. You still couldn't shake the weird emptiness, though, when you got to the end of the corridor. Not a single demon was in sight. You frowned, furrowing your brows.

"Help!" You called flatly. "Help! Someone help me! Is someone there? Hey! Oh shit, I'm probably dead..."

"No, you aren't, love," came Crowley's voice from behind you, his hand soon resting on your shoulder.

You turned around, looking at him quizzically as you cleared your throat. "Where is everyone?"

He sighed, scratching the side of his jaw with his free hand as he smiled. "Your cold hasn't gotten better, so I figured that it should just be me and you until tomorrow."

You raised your brow. "And the Winchesters?"

"Not an issue," he reassured you. "I promise you, they won't call. I put one of my best on that."

You relaxed a little, nodding as you let out another cough. "And what makes you think they'll listen? I mean, what if your man decides to go against you?"

"Oh, he won't," Crowley said. "He can disobey, but... fuck that, I'm the king. And I can make him think torture is a baby's game."

You sighed, wiping sweat from your brow. "So you're gonna play doctor all day?"

"Not quite," he grinned, putting his arm around you and steadily, slowly leading you towards the bedroom again. "I couldn't resist it, so I got my men to get you everything you most like. Films, TV, books, food. The whole lot. All you have to do, your highness, is sit down and rest."

You couldn't deny it. You did really appreciate what he was doing - trying to make you feel good so that you weren't so focused on your constant coughing and the heavy sickness in your bones. You did really, really appreciate it.

You just couldn't bring yourself to say it when you got back into bed and watched him set up the first DVD on the television; a film from nineteen eighty, directed by a very prolific Italian filmmaker.

As infamous as it was great, no matter how many times you had seen it, you still loved it. You still felt giddy as a child whenever you heard the opening music and saw the overhead shots of the Amazon River.

Crowley was soon at your side, his legs slightly bent as he shifted his hips, side sitting so that it was easier for him to move if he had to grab anything.

"I still don't understand how you can watch this, but when I ask you to help me torture someone, you always say no," he laughed softly, putting his arm over your shoulders.

You shrugged, spreading your legs and snuggling into him a little bit. "Same reason why you say you hate heavy metal, but you always somehow end up singing Sabaton in the shower."

Crowley smiled, licking his lips. "I'll give you that one."

He clicked his fingers, a bunch of your favourite snacks appearing between your body and his as he hardly even took note of it. Softly humming and opening the packets when you asked him to. Crowley was always good to you like that, although you could never quite say why.

No one ever believed that, the first time you met him, you tried to kill him. But now here you were - practically his spouse.

Maybe it was because the nights were so empty and cold, so lonesome and blue, and when you looked for someone to keep you company and to engage in a little love affair, he was right there.

But you had begun caring a long time ago, and so had he. It was, after all, only natural.

You weren't a toy to him, he wouldn't get tired of you and stop playing with you; he made that much obvious.

All the times he got jealous of other people flirting with you and had gotten on the verge of snapping their necks until you stopped him.

"You should try this one," you told him, absentmindedly passing him the packet. "You'll like it."

He raised a brow, slightly amused. "Did you forget I'm the King of Hell?"

"Dudn't matter," you hushed. "Just try it."

He rolled his eyes, reaching into the packet and picking only one out; it wasn't terrible, he had to admit, so he nodded with approval. "It's not the worst human food, I'll give you that."

You scoffed, glaring at him from the corner of your eye. "Please. Just admit that you like it."

Crowley shook his head. "Never, darling. I don't need to eat."

"You should," you told him, shaking the packet gently in your hand to try and intice him. "Oh, wait, wait! This is one of the best parts!"

Crowley glanced at the screen, not really sure what he was looking at as he furrowed his brows. It was just a bunch of random shots of New York, followed by a little narration. What you ever saw in that film, he couldn't say.

But maybe your taste wasn't all bad.

After all, you had gotten the King of Hell to fall for you.

if you made it to the end of this fic and you enjoyed it, then please, if you have any cash to spare, maybe give a little cash to help Tahani save her children and husband 🇵🇸

[isa-ghost]

ok

*insert coin*

Can I ask for q!Phil hcs BUT when he's fully un Bird mode :D

Jokes on you that's easy, those are just more plain qPhil hcs for me >:D

qPhil headcanons masterlist

Sometimes if he's in a fight that he's not taking seriously he'll put some goofy ass music on in his headphones. Some favorites include the Mario invincibility star theme, Waltz of the Meatball Man, and the kind of bubbly anime ending music that plays over an emotionally devastating scene

After way too much stress, once he gets Chayanne & Lullah to bed and is on his own he'll go somewhere and just. Scream. For as long as it takes. And then he chugs tea or noodle broth to prevent his throat from dying on him.

Sleep schedules his beloathed <- wants to spend more time with a bunch of islanders he doesn't get to see often

Out of the 3 polycule members, Fit is best at cheering him up. He knows Phil best and the extent to which he lacks a filter sometimes is too powerful for Phil not to at least smile at

His wheeze laugh is the best thing ever to the the kids. If the two of them can make him wheeze, they know they've done their job right.

As soon as he knows something is safe (the maze, an event site like the code builds, that new mountain at old Spawn, etc) he's the first one to start exploring. He's been that way as long as he can remember ;)

*Slaps top of his head* This old man can fit so much survivor's guilt in him

He's only old in age and wisdom, if you try to imply he's geriatric he will get SO out of pocket about the things he's done with Fit & Etoiles and you will regret it

Okay so I've talked about how his worst fear is not having control, especially of himself. And I've talked about other fears of his, but I don't think I've mentioned his fear of loss yet. He tries to pretend he isn't, he'll insist he isn't, and to some degree he isn't Entirely wrong, but he is afraid. Being as old as he is means you get a bit desensitized to loss because it's natural when the things and people around you don't live for as long as you do. The part of it Phil fears, or maybe hates is a better word, is all the emotional turmoil after. That bone-deep ache of grief, the heaviness that refuses to leave his chest, how easy it is to emotionally compromise him, the hollowness that consumes him. The way he can't think or sleep properly, how his motivation is completely wiped out, how embarrassing it feels to not be at 100% in front of people. He HATES the aftermath of it all.

Excursions, Shuniji, and ofc Weirdest Year by C418 are Phil grief songs, in this essay I will

The Federation has learned that if they want Phil to attend an event he isn't particularly interested in, all they have to do is have really good food there, especially Latino food

He does legitimately gag a little when he kills a mob and flies or maggots come out of it. That's not just drama, he fr is like 🤢. It reminds him of the first time he saw Ender King's corpse

A fraction of the reason why he has people he trusts very deeply, like Fit, whitelisted on his security stuff is bc he knows if he ever got too depressed (like when the kids were missing), he'd never leave the house and just bum around feeling awful despite being restless. Having them whitelisted means they can get in and force him to get some air and stop festering in his emotions.

See I could get into a whole analysis abt this but like. So many of my angst hcs for him are abt how he's kinda shit at taking care of himself, esp when the people he cares for the most are removed from the equation. But it's not that he's incapable of it, he's not a baby or something like that. It's another part of how he's so locked into being the caretaker, the protector, the Strong One, the wise one, etc etc etc that he Hates being in the reversed role. He's gone so long without it that now it's foreign and unpleasant to him. He feels weak & like a burden. But at the same time, going so long without being in the reversed role is unhealthy and he NEEDS to be the one taken care of or protected sometimes. Everyone does. It's a double-edged sword: be the caretaker, shoulder everything & suffer OR be the one taken care of, feel awful about it for one reason or another. He can't win. He hates the latter but he needs it occasionally just like anyone else. He prefers the former, but the toll it takes over time is extensive.

It's why he'll do little things in an attempt to remedy it. To avoid being full-on taken care of for once while also not Only doing the reverse. Watching the sunset with the kids, adventuring in new and exciting places, sparring with friends, etc. His escape is making vivid fond memories to look back on and smile about, even if they don't always fix his emotional state. At least he isn't fully neglecting himself.

[lucidwindz]

billford ramblings

I’m seeing a lot of delightful fics of Bill being sent back to GF as a human and truly adore the premise.

throwing my own hat into the ring; I love some complex psychological horror and or unhealthy yet compelling dynamics, therefore in the AU that only exists in my head (for now), Bill broke out of Theraprism by himself, lands back onto earth and possesses the body of just some guy who was about to die, therefore an empty vessel yknow. His powers would be diminished, or he’d need to keep them under wraps so as not to catch the eye of any supernatural police. The Stan twins have been travelling across the globe to catch any residual weirdness, and Bill’s little fall to earth had pinged off on their radar, so they go to the anomaly place and just find Some Guy.

Bill has to do his best to convince the twins that he’s just Some Guy, and that the reason he’s giving Weird Vibes is bc he came into contact with the anomaly and it left his arms charred, and being able to do some magical tricks. He decides the best place to hide is wherever everyone least expects him, so he joins the twins on their adventures as resident Strange Guy But Kinda Smart and Useful so sure, tag along.

Now here’s the thing. Bill and Stanford get along really well, they’re both intellectuals and they bond over creating strange inventions, much to the despair of poor Stanley who has to make sure they don’t go too crazy and make Weirdmaggedon 2 electric bugaloo. But sometimes he participates yknow, dude learned some advanced shit in the 30 years fixing the portal. Either way, they rly end up bonding.

All the while, however, Bill realizes how much he missed being with Stanford, and becomes increasingly worried about the cat coming out of the bag and ruining this second chance. He’s careful that his demeanours are never too similar to how he used to act, he’s desperate not to shatter the illusion. One way or another, this entire thing teaches him to slow down and cherish something. Still, he cannot fully contain his chaotic nature, it’s a non stop push and pull between his godhood and his growing care for humanity. How does a cosmic, unfathomable being such as himself change? Can they even? Or would that very change tear himself asunder?

On Stanford’s side, he cannot help but find this stranger familiar, can’t help the incessant déjà-vu, anytime he and the man stay up late into the night discussing the mysteries of the universe. But he thinks it’s unfair to pile his trauma onto this random guy, so he restrains himself. Still, it is a quiet scream in the back of his head he can’t shut out. He also realizes slowly that the other man seems to always be repressing himself, and he wants his friend to break out of his shell and be truthful, but another part of him dreads it to his bones.

Still, both of them can’t help falling for each other. Stanford feels like someone finally sees him completely, and this time they’re on equal footing; it is not a believer on his knees for a god, it is a slow waltz as they hold hands. A comforting, soft partnership.

(at the core of billford, I think, is we never truly know if they loved each other. Perhaps they only loved the idea of each other; stanford’s love for Bill is that of a believer, a worshipper. He saw Bill as this clairvoyant eye to finally bathe him with the acknowledgment he always craved, the hole in his heart left by Stanley, to fill with achievements and noises. If a God can acknowledge me, then I must be doing things right, I must be good, I must be enough. Yet when that shatters, and Bill is revealed to be a demon, what says that about Stanford, who reveled in his gaze? As for Bill, he fully saw Stanford as a pawn till he lost him. Is it truly love and regret? Or is it a child losing its favourite toy? Is it mere disbelief that anything can slip through his, a god, a king’s fingers? Even a pawn that he liked a little more than the others, that he expected would remain on his board but vanishes and he can’t help but linger on its empty square? Does he mourn his loss of control or does he mourn just a little bit, the company of someone who understands him, his incessant need for escapism, from his broken home, his oddness, his ‘defect’?)

Eventually, everything comes to a head when Bill has to use his full powers to save Stanley during a mission gone wrong. Sirens blare across the universe and Bill knows he will be found out and sent back to the hell of infinite therapy. But for that moment, all Bill cared about was Stanford’s happiness and wellbeing, because he knew that losing his brother would break him fully. He had to care for Ford, despite his fear of losing him forever. Despite the fact that this would be the end of the road for him.

As for the ending, idk what would be most appropriate. I’d love a happy ending but I think though Stanford will try to save Bill from his fate in theraprism to repay his debt, he would be too hurt to fully forgive the demon. Maybe they part ways, and Bill places a kiss on Stanford’s scarred knuckles and accepts that to love is to lose, and he has to accept that if you truly love another, it means letting them be happy even if that happiness is without you.

I think some of my love for the Jedi’s philosophy leaked in all that yapping but anyways. Might draw or write a lil something for this AU down the line. I like unclean resolutions, they’re both forever stained with the other’s handprint, but would they trace it softly on their skin or cover it up with a high collar. Who knows? It makes no damn sense, compels me though!

[trancylovecraft]

(KNY) YANDERE PLATONIC! KOKUSHIBO x SISTER READER: You, Shibou. I, Kokoro (CHAPTER THIRTEEN)

Previous Chapter ☆♡☆ Masterlist ☆♡☆ Next Chapter

AO3 link

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: "You will not be more than a rat in the gutter"

Child abuse can come in many forms including Physical, Emotional, Psychological and Sexual. It happens to more than one in ten people according to local statistics.

The morning rays shone through the window, The disgusting mould building up on the glass making dots in the spotlight.

The room the light had hit was clustered and tossed over, All furniture either broken or tipped over onto the ground. Shattered vases and hives of insects were plentiful in nature, Thriving in the filth of the abandoned house.

It was horrid, Looking like no-one had dared to step foot into the derelict surroundings of the rotted structure. Walls near falling apart and doors barely clicking place into their doorframes.

Larvae gathered around on the decaying wood floor, All from the corpse laying atop it.

It had been there for days, Maggots already crawling in and out of the pores in her skin. She was old, Dying of old age. But that was perfect for the gathering flies and vermin starting to make their young out of the nutritious flesh of her decaying face.

Her figure was as gout as an English king, Her spindly grey hair was scattered across the floor and already falling out of her scalp. It was disgusting, The smell was like spoiled eggs and sulphur from the mould.

But it didn't bother the girl peaking out from the nook in the door that was slightly open, Her little face was shrouded in shadow with the only thing visible being the vivid colour of her eyes staring out at the corpse.

She could of only been about seven or eight, But she looked at the corpse like it was her everyday life, Like she was just observing people passing by on the streets.

Her overgrown hair was matted and tangled into that of a thorn bush, Dirt was displayed on her face and her eyes were wide and vigilant like a bird of prey. It wasn't fit on her and her skeletal complexion, A girl that looked so young.

Her brows lowered as she looked at the corpse, It wasn't of disgust or horror as it should've been but instead it was akin to annoyance or perhaps irritation. It was a mature face, One she should've never been able to make at her age.

The thin bony hands that lain on the other side of the door started to quiver. Even though there was a faint warmth in the air, Her body was still chilled to the bones from the ravenous hunger that laid inside her stomach.

She pushed her fingers forward, The door starting to close. [F/N] took one last look at the infestation gathering on the corpse before huffing.

The door shut softly with a click, Leaving nothing but dead silence to fill the room.

☆♡☆

[F/N] sat upon her futon, Head drooped down to look at her knees.

Her futon was small compared to [F/N]'s already tiny body. The sheets looked like they hadn't been measured to her size in years as it could barely fit over her tiny little feet and provide much needed warmth in the high altitude of the mountain.

The cold air from the atmosphere outside left a lasting chill within the air. The snow-capped peaks above were not too far from where her grand house sat within the rocky terrain, Nestled at the head of the village facing below.

It was lively to say the least. Men with heavy pickaxes slung over their shoulders were waltzing about streets, Most likely on their way to work. Women with baskets of shining ore headed in the other direction from the way, Ready to haul them to the exporting wagons.

Kids ran around the adults, Grinning as they chased each other throughout the plentiful streets and tall buildings lining them. They were having fun, [F/N] could tell from the loud muffled laughs coming from below.

The sunlight village, The place where the sun never went down and where the entire village was eternally basked within the grace of Amaterasu. The only place where scarlet iron ore was cultivated for the demon slayer corps.

For a small village it was a hotspot for both the mining and swordsmithing industry, Never having a quiet moment. It was also a place constructed by the Ubuyashiki family for the sole purpose of collecting and exporting the scarlet ore for the swordsmith village.

The grand house bigger than all the others sat atop a hill overlooking the rest of the village and the entire drop of the mountain miles below them. It was beautiful, Always clean and pristine as it was an example for the rest.

It was gorgeous, At least from the outside view that is.

Screaming erupted from somewhere deep within the house, [F/N] flinched at the high-pitched hollering coming from further within the rooms of the house. It was a constant back and forth of a man and a woman yelling at each other.

"YOU'RE DEFECTIVE! I SHOULD'VE PICKED A DIFFERENT FUCKING WIFE THAT COULD MAKE ME A RIGHTFUL HEIR!"

"I'M DEFECTIVE?! HAVE YOU EVER STOPPED TO THINK THAT MAYBE IT'S YOU THAT'S GOT SOMETHING WRONG WITH HIM?!. IT FUCKING FIGURES, YOU CAN NEVER GET IT UP!"

"YOU WHORE!"

Then the woman's screaming would turn into yells of pain and anger, The sound of a hand connecting with the skin of the face being the cause. Though despite the intensity and the structure-shaking yells that they made, It wasn't the sound of the adults that made [F/N] flinch.

Instead, It was the baby's.

It was horrifying, The shrill crying of a recently born child was mixing in with the roaring of the adults. It made [F/N] ball up and press her knees against her chest, Shutting her eyes and whispering to herself.

She sniffled, A futile attempt to wipe the oncoming tears off her face was made to no avail. [F/N] rocked back and forth, Whispering little confirmations to try and convince herself that it would be okay.

Though she was only a toddler, She was fully aware of what's happening.

Another one of her siblings failed the test, They hadn't been born with the proper hands. An annual occurrence with no deviation from it's result, Again and again she would hear the cries of a child from the other room and the adults screaming would kick up again.

Her family lineage had been blessed by the gods, That's what the villagers said anyways. Sometimes they even claimed that they were the descendants of gods far above them, Gifting them their power.

The Hands of Kagutsuchi, That's what they were called. Named after the kami of fire and the patron of blacksmiths. It was a bloodborne power that gave the blessing of being able to identify any material by the touch of a hand.

It could tell the density of the finest of threats, The way it was woven or the exact touch of the person it belonged to. It could even tell if a glass of sake was poisoned just from a simple graze of the liquid.

It was especially useful here due to the nature of scarlet iron ore, The mining village's sole export. Despite the assumption of the colour in the name, It was impossible to tell what was the scarlet ore or just regular iron.

It would usually take a few hours, Only being able to tell once it was cut into. However with The Hands of Kagutsuchi it would be able to be identified within a second, Saving countless resources and hours of work.

Though there was an is-

"DEFECTIVE.. ANOTHER DEFECTIVE BASTARD- CAN'T YOU DO ANYTHING RIGHT?!"

Sudden thumps of storming footsteps started to make their way down the halls of the house, Though what terrified [F/N] is that the cries of her baby sibling followed with it. Screaming wildly in distress. [F/N]'s breath hitched within her throat, Eyes going wide.

It was happening again, He was going to take another one-!

[F/N] wasted no time in stumbling to her feet and rushing over to the window on the far side of the room. Hopping up onto the soles of her feet, She was barely able to peer over and look out at the valley in front of her.

[F/N]'s eyes landed on the river, Almost second-nature to her by now.

It was the running water sourced from the top of the snow-caps, It was long and winding as it flowed throughout the entire village. It provided hydration and irrigation to the fields of crops growing on the outskirts.

It also had a private part flowing on the hill their house sat on, Separated from the rest of the village a good bit away. It was only a few metre's away, Giving [F/N] a place to run around in if she was lucky.

However [F/N] wasn't bothered by that as she heard the sound of a door being roughly slammed open.

It made her yelp, But her eyes never wavered as she watched the bulking figure of the man storm out into the field facing her house. Her eyes widened, Her vision focusing on what he held high above his head.

It was her baby sibling hung up by the raging grip of the man, They were screaming and wailing with their little face scrunched up in pain. They had only just been born, Still covered in the blood of their mother and freshly cut from the placenta.

Their little fingers were balled up, Their mouth open to let out their high-pitched wails of discomfort as they were hung upside down. They weren't even given the gift of clothing to warm their growing body.

The man marched onwards however, Ignoring the screams of the child as he stormed over to the place where [F/N] feared the most. Her mouth going dry at the sight.

The river.

He had reached the edge by now, [F/N] tried harder and harder to extend the soles of her feet to try and get a better look at what was happening. What was going to happen to her little sibling.

The man stood, Hanging his child like they were meat on a hook. Dangling over the river their cries only grew louder and louder, [F/N]'s breath only picked up once more as she looked on helplessly.

The river water ran cold, The rushing waves speeding down the slope of the mountain in waves. Rocks below it bashed into the water, Hard edges making the water sway and swim in different directions.

The man raised his child higher and higher, The screaming of the child becoming unbearable to [F/N] as her eyes landed on the object gripped tightly in his other hand.

She had been so focused, So attentive to the fate of the little boy that she had failed to notice what he was holding. But as he raised it higher and higher, Dangled his child further and further over the side of the river-

[F/N] knew what it was.

The cold blade of the knife was pressed against the little neck of her baby sibling, The sharp end barely grazing their throat. It was barely developed, Their chubby little cheeks covering what little neck they had.

The blade drew forward, Momentum starting to build.

[F/N] cried out from behind the wall, Hands slamming against the glass to try and stop this. Anything, To try and stop what was going to happen. Tears of her own starting to build up and burst down her face.

SILSH!

The shrill cries of the baby stopped.

[F/N]'s eyes widened.

Unable to pry her eyes off the sudden splash of red dripping down from across the field.

☆♡☆

The cold summer morning's air brushed over the high mountain, A cool breeze tickling at the skin and soaking into the bone.

The sun was still on the horizon, By normal time it would be the very break of dawn but for the sunlight village it stayed eternally light within the closed off confines of it's walls. The ferns flourished with the constant nourishment along with all the other wildlife accustomed to the bright atmosphere.

[F/N] slowly opened the wooden door, Careful to dim the noise of the creak it let out. As soon as she stepped out into the wide open plain of their estate she was hit with the cold spring breeze.

It made her shiver as her little legs hopped down the accompanying steps, Careful not to trip over on her own feet.

The timber-built bucket she had held under her arm was throwing off her balance by a bit, Making her stumble slightly in her step as she trotted over to the accompanying river. It was rushing as usual, Spurts of water foam bursting up and falling back into the stream.

[F/N] waddled onto the edge of the river, Peering over she looked once. Then back towards the house, Left to right before lowering down onto her knees and starting to scoop up the river water.

While the water was chilling it wasn't anything a small fire couldn't heat up, [F/N] learning the tricks of it from running her own baths for years. The few servants employed within her family weren't up at this time, Leaving [F/N] to her own devices.

However she preferred it that way, Not having to worry about interactions with the mean adults living in her house. Nor did she have to deal with the stuffy air flowing about in there, The crisp breeze of the outdoors being a highlight of her eternal day.

She had always felt more mature than the other kids in the village, Always like she was retaking a lesson she had done before. She didn't know why, But sometimes she could swear like she was an adult in a kids body.

Besides, With the upcoming birth of the next child it's been more and more hectic. The woman's pregnancy hitting nine months, The baby due to be born any day now and making both the man and the servants more stressed.

The yelling had gotten louder too, With the man promising and threatening the woman with something [F/N] couldn't make out.

The woman.

The woman was a sorrowful spindly figure, One with bony hands and a slim waist. She was beautiful but in a similar way that you would call a dark tragedy beautiful. Her fuzzy face always facing away from [F/N], Never letting her get a good look at her.

She never talked either, Not in person. Always such a silent and unreactive person whenever [F/N] had been around her, [F/N] only knowing her shrill voice from the screaming.

The man.

The man was a dark hulking figure, His limbs too big on his wide body and he heaved his arms like paperweights. He had horns, Tall winding talons and angry luminescent eyes that seemed to follow in a room.

But his appearance wasn't what sprung to mind when [F/N] thought of him, No. Instead it was his footsteps.

How heavy and thundering they were, How her ears had trained to pick them up from the furthest corner of her house. The way the floorboards decreased under his boot as well as the way she would wait on baited breath, Begging silently for them to pass by on her room.

He wasn't someone that [F/N] liked all that much, Despite the little contact she had with him. He had killed several of her siblings, Even [F/N]'s young mind recognising so.

The only reason she had survived is because she had falsely passed the test when she was born, The test to prove whether she had the divine power of the hands or not.

The test was done as soon as the baby born had fell into a soundless sleep, When it had stilled and calmed down. That was when the feather was brought out, A primary golden feather with a shine that rivalled the sun.

It was a feather said to have been left behind from the bird of the gods, Hou-Ou. One given to her families ancestors long ago. It had been combed several times, Preened and prepped until the touch was ironically featherlight and unfeeling.

The feather would be grazed across the child's hands, For only a second. If the baby awoke and started crying then that would mean that they had been born with the hands, The only thing being able to feel the pristine brush of the plume.

However, If they failed..

[F/N] shook off the jolting chill running down her back as the wooden bucket in her hands finally filled up with enough water to fill her shallow bath. She didn't want to remember the last loss a year ago, No matter how much it filled her head every night.

It appeared in the corners of her eyes, The splash of red. As soon as she snapped her head around to catch a glimpse, It would be gone. It also appeared in her dreams, The visions of the blade wringing the neck of another child. She had issues sleeping because of it, Keeping her eyes wide open in the middle of the night.

The worst part is it had happened every year, The keyword being had as the number of children being slaughtered had risen. The man, Deciding that the woman was not good enough had turned to others within the village for what he called a proper heir.

However, None were good enough. None were born with the hands that would finally appease the mans hunger for blessed blood. The splash of red appearing every three or four months by now. She remembered the woman's voice, What few words were ever spoken directly to [F/N] herself.

"Some are just made wrong, Don't cry over someone you haven't met."

[F/N] pulled up the bucket of water, Droplets running down the side of the bark and dropping onto the lush grass of the mountain. It sloshed around inside as she tried hauling it in her tiny hands.

[F/N] didn't know why she was still alive, A trick of fate perhaps. When the feather was brushed over her hands as a baby she had woken up and started crying, Making it seem as if she was born with the hands.

However when she had grown up it had become obviously apparent that she hadn't been born with such hands, Just waking up at the right time to avoid her demise. And by then the man couldn't kill her, Already having paraded her around the village.

Her father had tossed her aside after that, Just like leftovers. Thrown her into a cage to call her own and the servants were to raise her however distant they liked. He never talked or acknowledged her other than commands, But [F/N] could tell he thought of her like a rat in the gutter.

A disgrace and a failure of a child he was stuck with until he could find a proper husband to throw her away to. A child born without the conditions met to gain his love, The touch just out of her grasp.

But as her hands were graced with the tiny chill of cold droplets running down her fingers, The splintering wood pricking at her little hands. [F/N] was reminded very well that she wasn't of divine blood or of blessed heritage.

She lugged the bucket of limber wood by her side, Careful not to spill anymore of the river water down the sides of the bark. Her feet tapped against the overgrown grass, Wandering towards the main door.

Why she was the one to survive, Why she was the one destined to outlive all the children who didn't even get their chance. Her siblings, The ones that had been tossed away and the one's of whose blood flowed within the river.

They were her siblings, They were her blood and her only family. Each one of them had been given a name, Not by the man or the woman, But by her. Mariko, Amane, Eito and Tarou. The first four off the top of her head.

They hadn't even survived a day outside the womb yet [F/N] made sure to name every single one, Mark every little name into the corner wall of her room. They hadn't lived through breath but instead through their names, That's the least she thought she could do for them.

She loved them, Every single one of them.

Their little hands and their tiny feet, Their chubby little cheeks and their adorable mimicry of human speech. She adored it, Never getting to see what was of her sibling before they were slaughtered like all the others.

She couldn't bare it, Though she was only six she knew how wrong it was. How much pain she felt every time another was killed.

[F/N] tried to smile however. It wasn't all that bad, At least that's what she told herself. Today marked the day of the solstice festival, The one thrown in favour of The Sun Goddess Amaterasu for their eternal brightness.

It had always been fun for the few times she had remembered it, She was only six after all. [F/N] always had fun running about and handed out free food samples, Often partaking in some of the games and watching Shinto-based plays, They were her favourite.

So as she lugged along the bucket back to her house, She tried to keep a big smile on her face in thought of all the fun she was going to have today. What goldfish she was going to try and catch, What plays she would go see.

It was exciting, Fun and ex-

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH-!"

A muffled scream echoed out from within the house, One that made [F/N] yelp and surprise and drop the bucket towards the ground.

It clattered on the foot of the steps, Water flying out and splashing against the andesite stairway as she stumbled forward yelping. She fell to her knees and tipped up the bucket, Exclaiming once she saw the emptiness.

But the screaming didn't stop, It kept up on a higher notch. Wailing louder and louder as [F/N] snapped her head up towards the shrieks, Recognising the high-pitch of them very well.

It was the woman, The pain of her yelling was felt in [F/N]'s bone marrow. It was a string of unintelligible curses and proclamations of agony, For no doubt waking up the entirety of the previously slumbering house as she heard frantic shuffling come from inside.

The screams.

[F/N] knew it well.

Her water had broken.

Her tongue had dropped to her throat, Suddenly feeling limp in her mouth. Sweat started to rise up on the palms of her hands and trickle down her forehead as her lungs started going in and out at a much quicker pace.

Another would be killed.

Another.

Another.

And Another.

That was enough for [F/N] to push herself up from the stone steps and yank the door open with what strength her young body had, Abandoning the bucket and running into the labyrinth of her house to seek cover in her room.

Already knowing of the storm that would be approaching as she heard the thundering voice of her father kick up.

☆♡☆

The whines of the woman echoed throughout the house, The soundwaves bouncing off the walls.

It had been a few hours now and [F/N] had barricaded herself within her room. She had to, The man would've kept her inside for preparation of the next child. The hopes of this one finally having the hands he so craved.

He had come around once, Peeking inside her room and barking at her to stay put before leaving once more. All the servants had ran to the woman's side too, Leaving her completely alone.

To keep her mind occupied out of the oncoming demise of another child, She had sat atop a desk next to the windowsill, Longingly staring out into the festival just gracing the borders of her house so closely.

The colourful streamers were shot into the air, Laughing and yells of pleasure were there to cover up the sounds of muffled agony coming from deep within the house. All the lights, What few of them were were lit up in celebration of the goddess.

[F/N] imagined herself running around with the other kids, Envisioned herself catching goldfish with a bag of sweet treats in her other hand as she did. The way her face would light up in favour of the sun deity above.

But instead she was caged within the walls of her house, Forced to listen to the wails of the woman and the yelling of the man. The servants storming footsteps chattering past her door every so often to grab something new for the woman.

The one day when she was going to have an escape, If only for a few hours. Taken away from her.

It was a distraction from her everyday life, Every time she ran through the streets and bit into a piece of mochi she felt as if she was like everyone else. Like she was never trapped in the first place.

But it's not like she could ever get out.

[F/N] closed her eyes, Arms around her chest cuddling herself closer as the screams reached a peak. It was compelling, A siren's shriek that made her want to throwaway all her orders to stay in the room and run to see the face of her sibling.

She never got to see them, She just wanted to see one.

Only one, The glimpses she got of the previous just wasn't enough. She never got to hold their hand or even commit their face to memory. That's all she wanted, All she's ever wanted for herself.

She didn't even have control over her body when she hopped down from the desk, Her bare feet hitting the floor and starting to patter against the floorboards as she quickly made her way to the door of her room.

The door clicking open, She peered out to check if the coast was clear.

Left then right, Before snaking out the crack in the doorway and running towards the room.

☆♡☆

The child had been born.

Hours after labour had started, The woman had finally given birth to a young boy. A child smaller than usual, One that had taken forever to calm down and lulled into a deep sleep. But the servants had managed, Swaddling him in an earth-coloured cloth.

The room that they were in was the main bedroom of the house. It was dark, The blinds shut over to prevent any of the worshipped sun flooding into the room. Candles were lit in it's place, Surrounding the woman who lain strewn on the bed.

Her spindly, Starving figure was exhausted. Long limbs stretched out across the entire surface of the bed with the child placed firmly on her hollow chest as a part of the so-called imprinting.

A wet cloth was placed upon her forehead. What bloody mess of fluids she had made while giving birth were quickly cleaned up, A blanket thrown over the lower half of her body for little warmth.

[F/N] could see through the peek of the door she looked through that the servants had left, Assumedly to give privacy for the ceremony. She had tried peeking over the top side of the bed, Her height a hinderance as she tried to get a good look at her new sibling.

She finally caught a glimpse of them, A faint smile appearing on her face as she saw his young face. The way they slept without noise in their sleep. Their little nose and their big eyes shut down to sleep.

They were adorable.

However it wasn't just the woman in the room. The man had remained too, His back facing the blinded windows with a box gripped tightly in his hands.

[F/N] watched as he turned, Unlatching the box and flipping open the lid. Rummaging around, It didn't take him long to fish out the idolized plume from inside. The candlelight reflecting of the glistening surface of the feather.

He held it up high, [F/N]'s eyes lighting up at the view of it as he presented it up. It was beautiful, The box it was contained in kept it in very good condition. Looking freshly plucked from the crest of Hou-Ou.

Beautiful, The first time she had ever seen it so close.

This was the test, The one that would decide if this would be the child that would end her siblings deaths. [F/N]'s eyes landed on the sleeping face of her new younger brother, His closed eyes and the way he was tightly wrapped within the cloth.

The baby still swaddled lay against the woman's chest, Resting within a post-born sleep. It didn't take long for the man to lower the flower towards the boy, The fluff of the feather dancing in the wind as it lowered ever so slightly.

Would he pass? Would they be the one to finally end all of this, So her and the adults could finally live happily without anymore death? Only the feather would tell, Only the graze of the lightest touch would be the one to determine that fate.

It fell down even further, The baby babbling something incoherent in it's sleep. [F/N] felt as if her little heart had stopped beating entirely, Her body frozen in anticipation of the outcome.

"Please.. Please.. You can do this..!" [F/N] breathed out, It was so quiet and carried no weight in the indoor wind. But it held such pleading tone, A silent prayer to whatever god would listen to her. This would be the one, This would be the one! She could have a sibling and a family, She would have it. Her!

The feather was only inches away from their hands, Mere millimetres apart as every second ticked by with an audible tock. All until the sunrise plume completed its descent, The very tips of the feather grazing the baby's hand.

Time froze along with [F/N]'s body.

The feather stood still, Brushed up against the tips of his fingers.

The baby did nothing, Made no sound nor stir.

The man's eyes lit up. His mouth opening to bare his fangs and the talon dangling the feather was yanked away from the baby's hands, His luminescent angry eyes lit up. A glow burning brighter and brighter.

[F/N]'s eyes expanded, Her mouth going dry.

cry.. Cry- Please cry or anything-! H-He'll kill you! Do something-! SOMETHING, ANYTHING!

The yelling started up once more, Animalistic cries beginning to kick up once more as it shook the room with the sheer magnitude. So loud that the woman jolted up from her position on the bed, Predatory eyes shaking up in surprise.

"ANOTHER ONE! ANOTHER FUCKING FAILURE- "

The woman who was freshly awoken got up onto a sitting position as if doing this a hundred times before, The baby nudged down to the side and abandoned. Her blurry face seeming to get more static as she started to scream right back at him.

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE DO YOU THINK I'M TRYING TO DO TH-"

[F/N] stumbled back, Her feet barely landing their mark as she covered her mouth.

The screams turning into nothing but white noise as the darkness of the hallway started to envelop her more and more, Each step she took back was one more closer to her inevitable cries.

By now, The baby had woken up and had started wailing. Shrill cries mixing in with the wrath of the adults, Confused and helpless with no prior experience to this world. It was screaming, It was screaming so goddamn loud.

[F/N] whined, The hot spill already dripping down her face. Turning her back to the door she turned and ran, Her instincts kicking in. That need to escape pumping through her blood as she sprinted back towards her room.

Feet thumping against the floorboards as she ran through the door to her room, Instantly falling to the floor.

Another one.. Another one would be taken.

Again and again.

Hands bathed in the blood of the monster who took them all from her.

☆♡☆

"B-But- Can't you keep this one? J-Just this one? You don't even need to care for him, I-I'll do it!"

[F/N]'s shrill voice called out, Her discordant voice cried as she watched the man's hulking body stop just beside her doorway.

He had come in, Not even a few minutes ago to command her to stay inside for the next week or so. Bursting into her doorway to find [F/N] huddled under the sheets of her futon, Proceeding to ignore that and hiss at her to obey his orders.

The festival outside still roared with life, People dancing and laughing as they played along the riverbank. [F/N] was thankful that they were, It was the only thing preventing the death of her little sibling.

Due to the copious amounts of people surrounding the riverbank, It was made impossible to kill and dispose of the baby and it's corpse as if he did then the village people would see the blood running in the water and get alarmed.

[F/N] had heard the yell come from him a few minutes after she had ducked into the safety of her room. He would be killed tomorrow when the festival clears, When the people have dispersed and the water made private once more.

It gave [F/N] time as she stood below the figure of the man, Her little body was an ant compared to the mountain of his pitch-black body. His talons and horns reflecting the light of the window parallel.

[F/N] had somehow found the confidence to stand up to him, Though under his height she didn't stand that tall. But she had to try, There was an opportunity to save him, To save her little brother.

She tried to look big, Similar to a cat would as she raised her shaky shoulders and bared her baby teeth. Tears brimming in her eyes with horror as the horrifying man turned around to look at her, Wrathful irises staring death into her.

His needled teeth bore, Maw opening wide.

"No, For fucks sake just stay in your goddamn room and pipe down like a good little girl. Stop arguing back and stay quiet, Don't talk back to me." He rumbled, Voice like thunder in the distant as it struck [F/N] through the heart.

His neck cracked and his limbs settled within there sockets as he moved, Lunging forward as if to pounce. [F/N] flinched, But he pulled himself back at the last second to turn back around towards the door. His claws encircling the knob as he started to yank it open.

[F/N] regained her footing, Heart drumming in her chest as she opened her mouth.

"I-I'll tell the village what you're doing! They'll save him!" She exclaimed as her palms grew clammy at her words.

The man stopped in his tracks.

He turned around, His face revealing the angry glow of his eyes that pierced into her. What little [F/N] could make out of his face seemed to get angrier, His muscles pushing back to reveal a burning rage upon him.

[F/N]'s tears started to spill now, Raising over the brink and piling over the edge.

She backed up, What balance she had seemed to vanish as she watched the man turn around fully now. Baring his shoulders and pushing out his chest as he took a step towards her.

"W-Wait.. No- I'm sorry-!" [F/N] cried out but she was cut short by the icy cold grip of a clawed hand on her cheek.

The man had lowered onto a single knee now, The floorboards decreasing under the weight of his body and almost breaking them in half. What angry expression he had before seemed to have changed now.

It almost looked friendly, Almost as if there was a heart buried within the empty void of his body. But it also looked as if he wanted something, Like he was sucking up to someone just to get something out of them.

[F/N] froze as the grip on her cheek tightened.

"Sweetheart.. You know this is just a family tradition, Right? It's not wrong to get rid of some deficient children." His bestial voice seemed to have been tamed, If only a little bit as he over-emphasised his words. Talking down to her as his facial muscles turned upwards.

Her mouth was dry. [F/N] didn't know what to do, This was the first time he had ever lain a hand on her in such a way. Though it wasn't warm or comforting, It was cold like the hand of a rotting corpse. It made her want to cry and run away.

"N-No..?" She coughed out, Lip trembling as she tried not to invoke his anger any further. Confused as to why he was acting so nice all of a sudden, So friendly as if he was her friend with well meaning intentions.

But [F/N] knew better as he smiled further, Exposing the pointed bone lodging out his gums.

"Well it is. This is completely natural." The man answered. His faux smile stayed strong, Though [F/N] could almost see it falter as he saw the continued confused look on her face. "You know what? How about I tell you a story.."

It wasn't something [F/N] was meant to answer as his hand moved down to her shoulder, Almost as if he was trying to hold her in place as he talked.

"So.. Once upon a time there was a.. A farmer and his livestock. The farmer was the best in all of the land, He especially had these prized sheep. Beautiful fleeces, Their meat was the most delicious and everyone in his village loved the farmer for making it." He started.

[F/N] blinked, Nodding slightly as he spoke. She was still puzzled, Still lost within the mist of her mind as she tried to follow along with what he was saying. Wait, What was he saying? [F/N] didn't know just yet as he continued.

"One day one of the prized sheep gave birth to her lambs, The farmer had been waiting months for them to arrive… But when they did, They came out wrong." The man said, His voice lowering an octave as he got closer to her.

"Wrong.. Wrong how?" [F/N] said slowly. The story he was telling about the lambs and their so-told unfortunate birth still hadn't weighed in on her. Though she was curious, How could something be born wrong.

The man took a second to think.

"..Well their fleeces were dirty and all their limbs were thin and bony. The weren't like the prized sheep that the farmer had raised, And their meat would be dry and tasteless if he decided to make his next batch of sheep with them." The man answered, Looking over [F/N] as she hummed.

The lambs he was describing sounded nothing like the ones she had seen in the village, The ones that were kept in livestock were always floundering about within their pens. They looked healthy and happy.

Though ones that he told of sounded rather sad, [F/N] imagined the little stubs of the usual lamb as the ones he described and how unhappy the lambs would be. She also remembered how the villagers would favour the nicer looking lambs while feeding them, The ones with fluffier coats or the ones that were friendlier.

"The villagers wouldn't like it.." [F/N] mumbled to herself, Deep within the thralls of her mind as she considered his tale. The man's eyes lowered in contentment, Seeing that his point was being told.

"Exactly, [F/N]. The villagers wouldn't like it if the meat turned tasteless, They wouldn't like it if the fleeces became dirty. Now, The farmer didn't know what to do.. These were the only lambs born this season." The man told, Nodding along.

[F/N] blinked, Bringing her hand to her chin in thought.

"..What did he do?" She asked slowly, Her little self looking up towards him. Her eyes still scared and on guard as she stared into the intense shine of his eyes, Though curiosity was laced in within her eyes. The man's hyenic grin widened, Sickeningly so.

"Well it just so happened that the village was being terrorized by a mountain lion for a few months now, And the lion was there to see the lambs. So it told the farmer that if he gave the lion the lambs, It would stop terrorizing the village.." The man started.

"And..?" [F/N] queried.

"And the farmer gave the lion the lambs. It meant that the village would be peaceful and the genes of the prized sheep would be spared, Though he wouldn't be able to provide the village with any meat: It would mean that future lambs would be much better in quality." The man finished. The hand on her shoulder dropping to his side.

[F/N] paused for a moment, Slowly nodding to the story in understanding. The lambs were sacrificed to the lion in order to keep peace in the village as well as the quality of the stock. For the greater good, Was that the moral of the story?

[F/N] didn't quite understand the roles in the story. The lambs she knew, They were the babies: Her siblings. The farmer was the man, The poor man who was tasked with producing quality meat.

But the lion?

"Then.. Whose the lion?" [F/N] asked as she looked up at him, Tilting her head and blinking in confusion. The man just looked at her through the void of his face, Contemplating over his words before speaking.

"The lion is The God Kagutsuchi, [F/N]." The man answered. "He's our ancestor, He's the man who gave this clan the hands in the first place. He wouldn't want it to go to waste, Would he?"

"..No.. He wouldn't." [F/N] concluded as she watched the man get up from his position. Pushing himself up with a hand and getting up onto his feet, Back to his entire height now as he smiled at her.

"Good. You understand now. This is all for the greater good, [F/N]. Telling the villagers would be wrong, You wouldn't want to upset your ancestor." He said as he turned around towards the door.

His claws wrapped around the knob on the door, His claws encircling the silver in-between his palms as he started to open it.

Though, He looked back. His smile completely gone from his face and replaced with that familiar anger painted across his visage.

"Now stay inside the house, Don't dare try to leave."

That was all he said before the door yanked open, The cold air of the outside hallway blowing against her face before it was gone. The door slammed shut and the man gone from within her room.

[F/N] just stood there, Feet fixed in place for several minutes. She just thought over his words as they reeled within her mind and went back over and over again, It was strange.

He said it was for the greater good, That was what he was trying to convey in his story. But something in her gut argued with that sentiment will all their might, Something that just felt so wrong.

Maybe it was the question mixed in with the thoughts in her mind. If the lambs were the siblings that were sacrificed to the lion, Then why was she the one that the lion turned over?

☆♡☆

Feet pitter pattered against the wooden floorboards, The lumber hard against the soles of her toes as she moved along the hallway.

An occasional servant passed her as she wandered down the passage, Barely paying her any mind in favour of getting to their next tasks. Some with plates of food and others with cleaning equipment overflowing in their arms.

[F/N] didn't pay attention to them either as they passed by, Too enveloped within her own thoughts to care about who they were or where they were going. Her shoulders dropped to their low, Her head fallen with them.

Though the story told to her eased her nerves if not a little bit, The build-up of years of seeing her siblings die was not easily broken down. It was still hard to forget the splatter of red across the grass, The blood mixing in with the river water.

The way the body was just wrapped in cloth and tossed away into the river, How their curled fingers went limp and the body turning cold within the freezing chill of the mountains stream.

It was horrifying.

But the man said it was for the greater good, Did he not? The Hands were of the utmost sacred abilities, A rite of passage into the clan. The lambs that were born needed the hands and the lion that had beginned them needed them to be passed on.

She wouldn't want to disrespect the gods, She wouldn't want to go against them in the slightest so why was she still feeling this way? [F/N] still didn't know, Her young mind still not made to handle this stress.

She stopped in her tracks, A sudden light entering her vision.

It broke her out of her wandering trance, The warming light dancing off the floorboards came from the crack in the door beside her. Only noticing it now, She peered over towards the tall frame.

She saw it, And recognised it instantly.

It was that woman's room, The same one she had peered into earlier. Where she witnessed the birth of her sibling and the subsequent fight that had broken out over his birth, Just like the others again and again.

She stared through the crack in the doorway, The small glimpse of the inside showed nothing but a slice of the bed. Curiosity killed the cat, But that notion didn't move [F/N] as she moved a little closer to the doorway.

Could he still be there?

Maybe. Maybe he could still be laying within the chambers, From what sliver she saw of the inside she could tell that the woman wasn't present within. She had never cared for who she had made, Never held them consciously for any reason.

She could've left him within her chambers, Left him out and waited for him to be slaughtered in the coming morning. Not that there was any tell of daybreak, But what if..

[F/N] looked left then right, Making sure nobody was watching her as she pushed open the door to the chambers. It opened with an audible creak, Making [F/N] jolt as she once again checked to make sure nobody was watching her.

Once she made sure of it, She quickly stepped a guilty foot inside and close the door behind her to cover her actions. Leaving her inside the walls of the room.

The blinds were still shut together, Blocking out the natural light of the outside world and leaving the burning embers of the half-melted candles to do the job instead. The shadows long and thick due to the result.

It also made it humid as [F/N] scanned her eyes over the room. Everything was basically the same. The side table, The half-done bed, The nightstands and the closet off to the side. It was all the same as normal.

Except there was something placed upon the table, [F/N] squinted her eyes to get a better look at it. Once her vision cleared she had realised it was a basket, Woven of thatch and twine laying upon the table.

[F/N] stumbled closer to it, Understanding what it was as she rested her hands on the accompanying chair. Pushing herself up onto it she sat on her knees, Peering over into the contents of the basket. Her pursed lips turned into a soft smile at the sight.

It was her baby brother swaddled in the same earth-coloured cloth. He was awake now, Babbling out incoherent speech from within his makeshift cradle. He looked so precious, [F/N] couldn't help but lean over further.

"Hello, Nii-san..!" [F/N] called out in a hushed whisper, Speaking to the baby with a fondness like no other and saying it with such a burning love in her eyes. The baby in turn giggled at her speech, A giddy smile appearing upon his face.

[F/N] gasped as he responded to her words.

"You're so cutee.. My name is [F/N], You're my brother..!" [F/N] told him lightly as she lifted a hand towards him, Holding out her pinky as she peered at her brother.

The baby laughed again. His chubby little hand reached out towards her hand, Grabbing and clenching his hands before it finally grasped onto her pinky finger. [F/N]'s jaw dropped as she felt his hand wrap around hers.

"Ohmygosh-" She breathed out as she watched him rock around within his cradle, The grasp on her pinky finger never letting down. [F/N] in that moment looked at him and saw the world, The candlelight shining in her eyes.

She smiled, Pondering to herself for a moment.

"I should probably name you, You know! What sounds good to you..?" [F/N] asked him, Leaning over the side just a little bit more. She understood that he couldn't answer so she brought a hand to her chin in thought.

"How about.. Kaito? No.. Aito? No.. Akai? Denji? Enmei?" She listed off, Going off the few names off the top of her head and striking a line through the ones she had already used. Her lips pursed back up in thought, Her eyebrows furrowing.

[F/N] gasped, Suddenly snapping her fingers.

"How about Shizuko? I don't know if it's a girl or a boy name.. But I think it's really cute!" [F/N] exclaimed, Eyes sparkling as the now named 'Shizuko' babbled out what [F/N] took as confirmation.

He liked it, Shizuko liked it and that made [F/N] happy. Her other hand reached into the basket, Carefully lifting him up and making sure to support the head like the women in the village carried their own children.

She brought him down into her chest, Making sure his head was held up by her shoulder and her hands keeping him steady. Her smile was like the sun in that moment, The sheer joy she felt from holding Shizuko was coursing through her veins.

"You're not even crying.. It's just.. Amazing.." [F/N] trailed off as her hand rubbed over the cloth covering his back. Her smile dimmed ever so slightly, Turning down until it reached a frown.

This was the first time she's ever got to held her siblings, All been killed before she could. She remembered the mans tale of the lion and the lamb, How to sacrifice the few meant the purification of the future's many.

But how could sacrificing such a child be so good, How could killing him just because he wasn't born with the proper hands such a righteous thing to do? It didn't make sense, The story becoming much more grey as she thought about it more and more.

The hand holding his back made sure the cloth was covering him, Though the grasp she had started to harden. Gripping him and holding him closer towards her, Leaning over and almost protecting him with her body.

The light in her eyes fell. He would be killed in the morning, That was to be sure of. The lion would be provoked and the farmer would need to sacrifice another lamb. But the way the man spoke of it wasn't like sacrifice but instead disposal.

[F/N]'s hand moved down to his midsection, The hands holding him tight as she held him up towards the ceiling above. As if presenting him to the whole world which she saw in him, The tears bubbling in her eyes starting to spill over.

"You don't deserve to die.. Do you?" [F/N] whispered to him. Shizuko giggled once more, His little arms flailing about and treating this like a game of upsies. [F/N] smiled forlornly at him, He looked so happy.

[F/N] saw his face and tried to smile back as happily as she could, Trying to wash away the sadness in her smile to put on appearances for him. It just wasn't fair, Kagutsuchi didn't deserve Shizuko's life. He didn't even deserve to ask for it in the first place.

But what could she do? She was nothing, She couldn't stop the god's will. She was nothing but a mortal soul going throughout the motions. She couldn't even get out the house, The servants were there by the door, Most likely put there for precaution due to her outburst earlier.

Nothing, There was no esca-

"Aaah… Ahh.."

Shizuko babbled out once more, Snapping [F/N] out of her thoughts. His babbling was no more different from what she had heard before but she understood it well along with the hand motions he made. She lowered him down to her eye level, Meeting the dark ebony of his eyes.

[F/N] sniffled, Trying to dry her tears to a fruitless result.

"What is it..? Are you hungry?" [F/N] asked.

Shizuko made no verbal response, Instead [F/N] felt the sensation of a tiny palm hitting her cheek.

It was a suprise, Her body jolting at the sudden touch from him. His hand resting on her cheek and grabbing at it, The tears beneath them subsequently blocked from going any further.

Her eyes widened, Jaw dropping only slightly as her shoulders tensed. Her arm raised up towards him, A hand of her own resting over his own and taking it within her warm grasp and cradling it close to her face.

Was he.. Was he trying to dry her tears?

No way, He was too young to even understand that sort of thing. But as he lightly tried to hit at her face over and over again, Specifically towards the warm spillage going down her cheeks. She could only interpret it as such.

"I.. I.. Shizuko.. You don't need to do that.." [F/N] choked out. The action made striking the chords of her heartstrings, Resonating something deep inside her. Something warm and something she thought long lost.

Shizuko only responded in babbles, Repeatedly trying to rub his hands over her cheeks as more tears spilled out of her ducts. She couldn't stop crying anymore, She brought him close, Hugging him tight.

"I-I can't let you die.. I don't want you to die. Y-You.. I don't want another to leave me.. Y-You just can't die." [F/N] choked out as she sniffled hard, Taking her little brother into her arms and cradling him close.

Though as her blurry vision raised she met the doorway of the room. Sniffling once she dried the tears and snot off her face, Trying to steady herself.

"I.. I won't let you die. N-Not another one.." [F/N] mumbled to him, Settling him back down into the woven cot and positioning him to be as comfortable as he could. She picked up the cot into her hands, All before scampering over to the doorway.

A free hand lightly pushed the door open, Her head poking out to make sure no one was there. But hearing the sounds of footsteps approaching rapidly she hid back inside the room, Watching as another servant passed by through the crack before making a break for it.

She moved quickly and as silently as she could. Her ears perking up at any little sound, The settling of the house or the sound of faraway footsteps. Begging them not to come any closer to where she was. Shizuko babbled out, But [F/N] quickly moved a finger over her lips.

"Sssh! We gotta be quiet now.. Shizuko. We need to be quiet.." She hushed to him. Sweat starting to gather on her skin and the grip she had on his woven cot was grasped harder. She gulped, The implications of what she was doing starting to soak in.

As she made her way throughout the labyrinth of her house she found her way back to her room.

Shoving open the door with her shoulder she quickly shut it with a swift kick to the other side. She didn't bother listening to the slam as she ran over to her futon and set Shizuko down ontop of it.

"O-Okay.. Uhm.. You stay there, Shizuko! Give me a minute okay?" [F/N] told him, Leaning over to make sure he was okay before jerking around and stumbling over towards her closet. Opening it, She could feel the sheer weight of what she was about to do.

What was she about to do? [F/N] didn't know. She wasn't thinking nor did she have a plan. All she knew was the thundering of her heart was directing her every movement as she started scavenging through what she had inside the closet.

Messes of old baby clothes she kept in there, Formal clothes she put on for show. Both were left behind in favour of an old leather rucksack being tossed to the floor behind her. Both followed by a few kimonos and other assorted necessities from inside.

[F/N] could feel the sweat pooling in on her skin. How was she going to get out? There was a servant guarding the door and there was no way she would be able to sneak out Shizuko and a rucksack full of incriminating evidence.

Damnit.. She had no time to think as she started stuffing the rucksack full of clothes. At any moment a servant or god forbid the adults walk into that bedroom, Find that he's gone and start a manhunt.

Any moment they could burst through her door, Any moment they could catch her in the act.

If they did.. If they did then she was sure she'd be seeing the rest of her siblings soon.

[F/N] gulped. Shizuko let out a few more babbles from within his cot, Still not understanding the risk of the situation. She shook it off however, While the main door was completely guarded that didn't mean that there was no way out.

The light from the window shown in on her face, The ethereal light dancing on the smooth of her skin giving her an idea. The way the wooden frame of the window was built, It was a blessing it was able to open.

[F/N] pulled up the leather strap of the rucksack, Throwing it over her shoulder before running back over to the side of her futon.

Shizuko looked up at her, Not understanding what she was doing when she picked up the cot into both her arms. [F/N] smiled as best as she could, Trying to keep him calm and quiet as she made her way over to the window.

"Okay.. We're gonna go on a adventure now. Okay, Shizuko..?" [F/N] whispered to him, Pushing the cot up onto the mahogany desk with her following closely behind on the chair. Shizuko let out a few more noises, And [F/N] didn't hesitate to take them as his confirmation.

[F/N] got up onto the desk quickly afterwards. The latch on the door was stiff as her hands went to open it, Hardened in place from years of no use.

"Gh-!" [F/N] exclaimed lightly as her hands pulled at the latch. Her other hand joining the first as she tried with all her might to push it open. It dug into her palms, It didn't matter as she just tried harder and harde-

SLT!

The latch finally pushed forward, Opening so suddenly it made [F/N] yelp out .

She could feel the sudden gush of cold mountain air hit her knees, A breeze pushing into her hair and blowing it back. It felt glowing, It felt like the key to the door she had went mad looking for her entire life.

[F/N] was near distracted by it, She had felt it many times in her life but this one felt more freeing. An opportunity relished and ready for the taking. Though it was broken when she heard the terrified scream from one of the servants.

"THE BABY IS GONE!"

It was one of the adults personal servants, Loyal like a dog.

[F/N]'s body jolted up in fear, The cold breeze turning into a terrifying chill running down her spine like ocean water. Her hands lunged to the cot, The uproar of muffled footsteps starting to fill the house.

"We've got to go-! We've got to go!" [F/N] shrieked, Her arms wrapping around the cot and her legs throwing themselves out of the window with it in her lap. Thank the gods she was on the first floor.

The footsteps started to drum at the structure, [F/N] could feel it in her bones as they rapidly approached her room.

But by then she had already slipped out the window with the cot in her arms. The chill only fueling her newfound courage, The one that was determined to make sure that this child would survive.

The only one that would survive.

As soon as the grass brushed at the sides of her sandals she didn't waste time on the sensation, Already running down the slope of the hill her house was set on. Shizuko babbled.

The wind rushing in the opposite direction, The sun in the other. Neither bothered her any longer, Her mind was one track and she was determined to get to her destination of who knows where.

The yelling picked up from behind her as she ran, Now the sounds of the man mixed in with the servants. But it grew distant the further she went, As the house grew smaller and smaller atop the hill until it was nothing but a speck anymore.

The village was no option for her to travel through. The people there would question why she had a baby and if they did that would only give the adults time to catch up to her, They'd figure out where Shizuko went eventually.

So instead she diverted through the forest beside the village, Running behind the houses with the sweat flying off her face. Her legs picking up in speed, Going so quick like they never had before.

The alleyways she passed shone the street markets and the people laundering about their days, Flashes of happy smiles she would never see again. While she never had any good friends here, There were still people she would miss dearly.

Hopping over the rocks jutting out the river, Barely missing the sloshing sea foam bursting out the rush of the river. She made it to the other side with Shizuko still untouched and in her grasped.

"Come on.. You can do this.." [F/N] mumbled, Not knowing whether it was dedicated to herself or Shizuko. But it didn't matter anymore as she ran down the mountain, The outskirts of the village growing small just like it did her house.

As the tall acres of tree's rushed by her, As the rocks scattered throughout the forest floor were barely dodged. The freedom grew more and more along with the darkening of the clear blue above.

Liberty, That's what she felt. The emancipation of her and her little brother, She had escaped. But she didn't stop to savour that moment, Running quicker and quicker to make sure that the chains were untethered entirely.

She was out, She had escaped The Sunlight Village.

☆♡☆

The moon hung over the speckled ebony of the night.

The grace of the pale blue moonlight shone down onto the streets below, The air much colder now yet it was comforting to the village it was sired under.

The streets were barren, Most of the residents either huddled in the pubs or the drinking taverns. Loud laughter could be heard from inside and it echoed out into the quiet roads harboured outside.

It was much less developed than The Sunlight village. The houses made not out of stone and manufactured wood but instead crafted from unprocessed lumber and thatch. The lanterns lining the streets illuminating that glow, The warm light providing heat in the chilling night.

[F/N] however didn't care about the people bustling inside the buildings, Nor did she care about how quiet the streets outside were. Instead her head was locked to look straight up, Eyes reflecting the serenity of the moon above.

It glowed in her irises, Her eyes widening to capture all of it. The first time she had ever seen the beauty of the moon, What it was described as in the books was nothing compared to seeing it in person.

"Shizuko.. Look at it, Can you really believe it?!" [F/N] squealed with the biggest smile crossing her face. After running for hours and hours throughout the dangerous wild she finally had time to admire it.

Shizuko by now was fast asleep. His big eyes were shut as he was tucked carefully into the earthy cloth, Warming him up in the brisk of the night. It was nothing like the harsh wintry gales on the mountainside.

This was comforting, It was a cold she let sink into her skin no matter how much she shivered.

She had travelled for hours down the mountain, Then some over unfamiliar flatlands. She had felt hungry, Vulnerable and dehydrated. But she had somehow made it hours later to this village, Assumedly miles upon miles away from where she started off from.

In that time her kimono had gotten ragged, Dirt staining the edges and tiny holes were ripped into the fabric. It didn't bother her however, The mere fact that she was free was more than enough to overpower that.

[F/N] smiled as she looked down upon the sleeping face of her little brother, The hands still holding his cot setting him down onto the stone pavement she stood beside. The noise from the tavern she was leaning against not even waking him.

[F/N] kneeled down, Looming over the cot as she looked at him. She smiled softly, Running a hand over his little face. She wasn't sure what she was going to do next, She had gotten out. But what now. [F/N] hummed.

"You must be hungry.. We've been running for hours without stop so.. I guess I should get you something, Huh?" She spoke to him softly. Watching him rock back and forth within his sleep she pulled the cloth over him.

She hoisted the cot back up into her arms before standing back to her full height of only a few feet. Taking in the deep breath of the night's air her eyes sparked, The moonlight dancing within her vivid colours.

[F/N] took off. Now that she was outside of The Sunlight Village, She wasn't quite sure how she was able to get food. Back then she'd get it every so often delivered to her room while the adults ate in the dining room, But now?

She wasn't quite sure how people got food. She knew how it was made from animals and plants, But where to get it was another story entirely. The shops here all smelled of the stuff she'd catch the man drinking on occasion, She had tried it once and it was nasty meaning it was no good for Shizuko.

So as she passed by the welcoming lights of the pubs and taverns, She tried to keep her eyes out for something else.

Maybe a food stand, But for some reason there was none around in the dead of night. There was no one on the streets she could ask help from, So as she examined all the comparatively tall walls she started to get antsy.

The hopeful smile she had on her face started to dim, The way she fiddled with her ruined kimono sleeves didn't help to soothe her nerves. She bit her lip as her eyes went back and forth again and again to try and find some sense of familiarity or shelter.

"Ehm.. I.. I don't think there's much around.." [F/N] mumbled under her breath, Coming to a halt within the streets. The barren wasteland of the urban landscape yielding no hope to her, Though glancing down at Shizuko she smiled once more.

"..It's fine, We'll keep going.." [F/N] said as she started to pick up her footsteps, Pattering against the stone wood she held her head high and decided to k-

"Hey.. Kid."

A low voice called out from beside her.

[F/N] stopped in her tracks from the sudden voice. The only noise before was the chirping of crickets and the faraway chatter of drunken festivities, So hearing something so close was rather surprising to say the least.

[F/N] turned her head to the side, Blinking as she came face to face with an dark alleyway. It was lodged between two tall fences and combined with their shadows and the night it made it nigh impossible to see a few feet into it.

But she heard the voice of an older man from within it, She couldn't deny it.

"Hello..?" [F/N] called out back into the alleyway, Her voice reverberating against the wooden fences as it went. No one answered, Not for a few dragging moments before the voice spoke out again.

But now with an associated body.

"Heyyyy~…" The man drawled as his body emerged from within the shadows.

His body was tall, Taller than the usual person. He seemed lean or rather thin, But [F/N] could see the muscles hiding under his loose yukata. He stood high with no hunch and had a half-empty bottle of sake swinging within his vulture-like hands.

His face too, It was like the mentioned bird's as well. Skin drooping and furrowed into a point with his nose and chapped lips. But his appearance didn't put-off [F/N], Too innocent to sense the vileness coming off of him.

"What'cha looking for there, Girlie..? Ain't you too young to be out this late..~?" The man drawled as he took a swig from the sake bottle, Liquor dribbling down his chin without care. [F/N] blinked as she looked at him.

"I'm just looking for any places I can get some food.. Do you know where I can get it?" [F/N] asked, Putting on the best smile that she could. The man smiled as he stalked a few steps closer to her in the dead night.

"Well I mean maybe~ Your parents about..? Oh.. What'cha got in there..?" He asked, Now looming over her to create a new shadow. [F/N] held Shizuko tighter in her arms yet her happy demeanour dropped.

She took a moment to think however.

"..No, My parents aren't really here right now. And this is my little brother, He's hungry, That's why I'm trying to find food." [F/N] told him. She watched as his crooked smile grew wider to expose his gums.

"..Well, You're in luck then..~" The man said.

"I am?" [F/N] asked, Tilting her head.

"Mhmm.. I got food back at my place~ How'sa bout I bring you and ya' brother back with me..? How'sa bout that?" The man said, Taking a final swig of his bottle before tossing it aside far into the alleyway with an audible clatter.

[F/N] hummed. Her first time talking with someone outside the village, She had been told how different it was down here but in person she could see what they meant. He was an adult, Adult's were meant to be trusted if you excluded the ones in her house.

The one's in the village were always nice to her, Giving her free food during festival times and always fawning over her lineage. Even so they were always cordial, How different could this one be? Plus he was offering food, That was something she couldn't give up.

[F/N] smiled bigger.

"Okay then! As long as you reall-" [F/N] stopped in the middle of her speech, Jaw left open as she froze in place.

The man raised an eyebrow, His drunken grin turning into a tight-lipped grimace.

"What..? What's wrong..?" He asked, But [F/N] couldn't hear him as she was invested within her own thoughts.

Mid-way through her sentence, Through her acceptance of his offer. She had suddenly been hit with a disgusting sense striking through her heart like a spear, A sudden jolt of concentrated fear radiating within her heart.

It wasn't like anything she had felt before, Nothing at all. But where could it be coming from? What did it mean. It smelt like rotten eggs and the pungent smell of liquor doused on top of it.

[F/N] looked back up at him, Her question answered by the look on his face.

It was coming from him.

"I.. N-Nevermind, I think I'll just continue searching on my own now.." [F/N] said as she backed away. What safety she had felt before gone in an instant, Replaced with an overwhelming terror pumping through her blood stream.

She had went to turn, But the cold hand that lunged out onto her shoulder stopped her motion.

"No, No.. You better come with me if you're hungry~ Come on.. I'll take good care of you.." The man said but the overly-friendly charade had started to break down more and more. The tug of his hand more insistent.

[F/N] started to tremble, The hold on Shizuko's cot becoming that of steel as she tried to shake off his hand.

"Please.. I don't wanna go with you.. Let me go.." [F/N] whispered out with a pleading look on her face. Something was wrong, Something was really wrong and it was confirmed how she was yanked back by his hand.

His grin now gone with the night's wind. Angry eyes reflecting his true intentions as [F/N] yelped out in terror.

"No, No.. Come on now.. You're comin' with me.." He hissed out lowly as he started to drag her out of the alleyway by the wrist, Near sweeping her off her feet and dropping Shizuko as he lugged her along with him.

"N-No! Get off me, Get off!" [F/N] screamed but there was no one to hear. The streets still empty and barren, No soul around but the stars to hear her cries of helplessness. Shizuko woke up too, Sensing the situation he started to cry.

"Shut up-!" The man snapped at her as Shizuko's cries grew louder.

"Let go- L-Let go!" [F/N] cried out.

"Shut it, You little bitch!" The man spat.

[F/N] didn't know what she was doing. But one moment she was being pulled out the alleyway by the wrist, The next her foot connected with the start of his bare knee. Slamming her soles into them as hard as her little body could.

The man screamed in agony as his leg near toppled on itself.

"You bitch- You little whore- YOU GET BACK HERE YOU-!" [F/N] didn't wait any longer to hear what words he would call her next.

Instead grasping onto the cot harder and turning towards the alleyway, Eyes brimming with tears as she sprinted into the darkness. She ran. Feet thundering against the textured stone of the alleyway.

Shizuko crying and firmly within her grasp as she passed by piles of trash and unpolished wood laying around. The scenery was filthy and infested with grime, But she had no time to smell the roses as she heard the man start to run behind her.

He was yelling.

Yelling obscenities she just couldn't make out nor could understand. She ran and ran, Her little legs trying their best to make distance but it was no matter anymore. Turning a corner her feet skittered to a halt.

A wall.

There was a wall.

There was no exit, There was just the end of the alleyway. A single wooden fence with dirt and rubbish piling up against it, Rats and mice scavenging the leftovers. There was no detour or route she could run for.

No.. This can't be-! This can't be it- No- No- NO!

[F/N] felt her heart drop.

Her body started to shake even harder as she took a step back, Looking at the sight with disbelief. The fences were too high to climb for someone of her height, Too tall to scale and her The feet behind her came to halt, Only a metre away.

[F/N] wanted her bed right then and there.

"Alright.. Fucking slut-!" He wheezed out as she turned around in horror to face the monster so close to her and her little brother. He took a few more steps closer, Further and further towards her as she backed up into the alleyway.

"I- I'm sorry-! Please let me go, Pleas- I won't tell no one! J-Just let us go okay, We won't tell-" [F/N] felt her back slam against the wall, Her body collapsing down into a ball. Shizuko's cot in the centre, His cries echoing out in the alleyway.

The man sneered. His body almost doubling in size as he approached closer and closer. A mixture of saliva and booze trailing down his chin, A horrid stench made very clear now. [F/N]'s heart thumped harder and harder, Her hands growing sweaty.

"Fucking ungrateful little shit.. I offer you food and a place to stay- And this is how you act? Not very respecting of your elders, Eh? Ya' mommy and daddy never teach you that?" He rumbled. A tone just dripping with mockery and he grew closer and closer.

What could she do? What would she do? There was nothing, No exit or place to run was made available. Was this really what the world was like?

The green grass fields that were illustrated in the books, Dandelions and bustling cities full of friendly people to talk with. Would she ever get to see that now? Were they real in the first place?

She would never know, Not now. Not by the way she sensed him. Her shaky hand brushed up against cold glass, Dragging her eyes away from him for only a moment.

"Fucking bitch.. You know what..? Pass the little boy you got in there, Teach you a little lesson.. Eh?" His hands lunged out, Time slowing with it as he reached down towards the woven cot.

Towards Shizuko.

In that moment, Looking back. [F/N] wasn't sure what came over her in that single second, She didn't know what divine force drove her actions as her hand wrapped around the sake bottle he had tossed earlier.

She lunged it upwards, Forgetting Shizuko for only a moment as her body turned within the air.

But it was over soon. The hands that were ready to grab her little brother were soon a pallete of red, Fallen to the floor.

His body twitched, Garbled speech dying on his tounge.

The broken bottle was stuck dead within his throat, Shards broken off and splintering into the skin of his shoulders. It was over in an instant, [F/N] somehow striking a vital point within him.

He had fallen to the floor, Covering her with his blood.

What.. What happened?

She sat there wide eyed. Her body didn't move a single inch, Petrified about what had happened. Shizuko tucked in beside her.

The man was easily ten times bigger than him, His muscles toned for a drunkard could've easily overpowered her.

But somehow she was able to overpower him, Somehow knew where to puncture and made a perfect move to lodge it in. Like a blood-borne ability it came off naturally, Like she had done it ten times before.

But she sat there for what felt like hours. Her mouth open and her grey kimono drowned in the intoxicated blood of the man she had slain by her hands.

As her eyes drifted down the corpse only a few feet away, She raised a hand.

The blood dripping down her fingertips, The iron stench flooding the alleyway.

It brought her back to all those times before, How the man dragged all of her siblings to the river and that splash of red would burst from their little necks. How it would fall into the river, Iron flowing in the water.

Did.. Did she do that?

"Woah.. Looks like someone already got him.."

Another voice called out from down the alleyway.

[F/N]'s body tensed up, The primal glint in her eyes stiffening as she pulled Shizuko closer to her. Her eyes wild and ready for the next one, Locking in on a trio of men walking down the alleyway and stopping at the sight.

One of the men looked to the side, Spotting her crouched form deeper within the passage. Tapping his comrades on the shoulder he pointed towards her, Which only made her back further into the shadows.

"Hey- Hey kid, You good there?" One of the men called out. A gruff voice like a smoker, One that seemed scarred as he looked at the young girl hiding within the darkness.

[F/N] didn't respond, Only looked at them with vigilant eyes.

Another man took the opportunity to speak.

"Hey.. Did you do this?" The other man spoke, Daring to take a few steps closer as he pointed at the bloody cadaver. The man's body muscular and marked, Tattoo's running all throughout his body.

[F/N] blinked. Scanning over him before nodding.

The man took a few steps back towards the group, Tapping them on the shoulder and whispering a few things that [F/N] just couldn't make out. They seemed to be in some sort of debate.

She tried to take a few cautious steps forward, Trying to get a better listen to what they were saying. Only understanding a few phrases like "She took him down" "Suzuki? Seriously? That little girl?"

But by the time she could make out the rest they were already done. Turning back to her.

"How about you come with us? You must be starving right? You live out on these streets, Kid? Need some money?" The first man offered as he stepped closer to her. Instinctively she pulled Shizuko closer.

As the man crouched down, [F/N] felt that same sense perk up again. His feel.. No, His soul maybe. His soul was disgusting and torn, It was horrid and it felt like nails on a chalkboard to her.

But it didn't feel dangerous.

Not like the dead man, This one had no intention of harming her or her brother. Not physically at least. It should've deterred her by all means but the promise of money.. That was what she could tell.

So she picked Shizuko up, Hoisting him over her bloody shoulder making sure to support his head as she stumbled over to him. Still petrified and muddled from what had happened but it didn't stop her as she walked over to him.

The man lain a hand on her back and her forward towards the group, Signalling them with some kind of hand gesture. They turned and started to walk out of the alleyway, Marching towards the moonlight shining on the outside.

She followed them, Too confused to understand what was happening as she cradled Shizuko close. Her only sense of comfort as she made her way forward with the man behind her leading the way.

The blood stayed stained on her kimono, Dripping down her head and in her hair. The lifeblood of the man she had slaughtered drenched her, But not just her body now.

That one single scene from the river, The sword against the throat of her siblings. The way she had felt for every single one of them.

The way she could no longer see the face of the man behind the blade, But instead her very own.

Next Chapter

[blockgamepirate]

Bolas Rojas Playlist

And the Hero Will Drown : Story Of The Year

Evil People : Set It Of

Twist : Korn

It's Been So Long : The Living Tombstone

Breaking Me Down : Soil

Rules of Nature - Platinum Mix : Jason Charles Miller

Unsainted : Slipknot

oops! : Yung Gravy

Break Stuff : Limp Bizkit

Friday Night Fire Fight : Aligns, Rubicones

BlastZone (ЗонаПоражения) : BONES

SugarCrash! : ElyOtto

Aerials : System Of A Down

King For A Day : Pierce The Veil, Kellin Quinn

Down with the Sickness : Disturbed

Witness : Mindless Self Indulgence

Throne : Bring Me The Horizon

Numb : Linkin Park

Freak On a Leash : Korn

BREAK LAW : Dog Blood, Skrillex, Boys Noize

When It Cuts : Ill Niño

GAS GAS GAS - EXTENDED MIX : Manuel

Becoming Insane : Infected Mushroom

Bricolen : Copain du web

Duality : Slipknot

Waltz of the Meatball Man : Gooseworx

I'm Not Okay (I Promise) : My Chemical Romance

Ani Mevushal : Infected Mushroom, Bliss

Laid to Rest : Lamb of God

Before I Forget : Slipknot

Renegades Of Funk : Rage Against The Machine

Downfall : TRUSTcompany

Hate Crew Deathroll : Children Of Bodom

Savior : Rise Against

Given Up : Linkin Park

Falling Apart : zebrahead

B.Y.O.B. : System Of A Down

Wait and Bleed : Slipknot

The Hand That Feeds : Nine Inch Nails

Stricken : Disturbed

Toxicity : System Of A Down

People = Shitm : Slipknot

In the End : Linkin Park

The Government Knows : KNOWER

We're Beautiful : ABSRDST, Diveo

Ponyboy : SOPHIE

Dumbest Girl Alive : 100 gecs

GOTTASADAE : BewhY

NIGHTMARES : Alice Glass

Can You Feel My Heart : Bring Me The Horizon

Kingslayer (feat. BABYMETAL) : Bring Me The Horizon, BABYMETAL

Goat Type Beat : harvoYT

Du hast : Rammstein

Zombie : The Cranberries

Squishy Caterpillars Riding On Bullets : Istasha

Captions Are Automatically Generated . Istasha

Rédeas : Project46

Wherever I May Roam : Metallica

For Whom The Bell Tolls - Remastered : Metallica

Path Vol. 2 : Apocalyptica, Sandra Nasic

White Rabbit : Jefferson Airplane

Animals : Architects

Tokyo Drift (Fast & Furious) - From "The Fast And The Furious: Tokyo Drift" Soundtrack : Teriyaki Boyz

Roots Bloody Roots : Sepultura

Tenebre Rosso Sangue (ULTRAKILL Original Game Soundtrack) : Keygen Church

Parasite Eve : Bring Me The Horizon

We Got the Moves . Electric Callboy

EXILADA : NIKKO, Istasha

BRAZILIAN DANÇA PHONK : 6YNTHMANE, RXDXVIL

Flashback : MIYAVI, Ken Ken

Get Got . Death Grips

Controllah (feat. MC Bin Laden) : Gorillaz, MC Bin Laden

Hayloft II : Mother Mother

Automotivo Bibi Fogosa : Bibi Babydoll, Dj Brunin XM, KZA Produções

ワールドイズマイン-初音ミク「マジカルミライ 2021」Live- (feat. 初音ミク) : ryo (supercell), Hatsune Miku

Na Na Na (Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na) : My Chemical Romance

BxMxC : BABYMETAL

Not Gonna Get Us : t.A.T.u.

Pleasure Model : Noisia, Former

Volcano : Woodkid

Misfit Toys (from the series Arcane League of Legends) : Pusha T, Mako

Snakes (from the series Arcane League of Legends) : PVRIS, MIYAVI

Idiots Are Taking Over : NOFX

Dead Limit : Noisia, The Upbeats

Sober : TOOL

The Pot : TOOL

All Falls Apart : Polyphia

How I Feel : La Dispute

Given Up : Linkin Park

Run : Bring Me The Horizon

Still Waiting : Sum 41

Bodies : Drowning Pool

Side by Side : BewhY

Falling Away from Me . Korn

One Step Closer : Linkin Park

Your Betrayal : Bullet For My Valentine

Tears Don't Fall : Bullet For My Valentine

Vicinity Of Obscenity : System Of A Down

Papercut . Linkin Par

The Diary of Jane - Single Version : Breaking Benjamin

[doodle-pops]

Dusk Till Dawn

Turgon x reader

Kinktober 2023: Squirting

A/N: My first time writing a single piece for Turgon and I enjoyed every second of it :)

Warnings: fem!reader, squirting, a slight overstimulation, Turgon being a tease and letting loose, dom!Turgon, a bit of power play, marathon sex

Words: 3.3k

Synopsis: Your King learns of your unique ability and makes use of it to pleasure himself all night.

List of Requests

“What’s the matter? Tired already?” His voice sounded mocking, and the uncommon nature of the King, as he stood at the end of the bed with an unphased and energetic expression.

How had you been going at it? Minutes that turned into hours that stretched into an eternity. You’d been tossed about the bed into complex positions to suit your King’s insatiable pleasure, a desire he kept sedated and suppressed out of fear and disgust. Now, he towered like an eternal being, body fit and filled with vigour for days to satisfy his hunger. The wickedly sinful lopsided smirk he gazed upon you with as his right hand roamed his body, slipping lower to grip his erect cock, stirred your rearranged insides. You could feel the tingling sensation building; your legs reacted, shutting themselves. His eyes didn’t miss the gesture, knowing it was the result of his undeniable wicked charm.

Panting the more you gazed upon his body, ripples of muscles just waiting to crush you under its weight, flexed and shifted for you to admire. Your eyes roamed from his pensive stare to his pectorals to his abdomen, all the way past his cock to his thighs. Those were the same muscles you adored whenever he trained in the early morning, now mocking you in delight of wanting more. It felt great to be pressed into the mattress by the giant stoic King; had you known there was the possibility he contained a loose bone, matters would have been enacted earlier instead of the tumultuous situation.

“My King…forgive me, but I was merely astonished by your raw power and strength. I require a moment to breathe,” you laboured, chest rapidly embarking on a journey to recover your momentum.

Instead of feeling sympathy on behalf of your problem, Turgon breathlessly grinned and hung his head to snicker. He warned you that this could possibly end wrong given his current disposition of not being enticed in years, and you informed him of your manageable abilities. Yet here you were, begging for resuscitation. Taking a step closer, knee touching the bedframe, his hand reached out to grip your thighs and pull you down. His body easily coveted your tiny figure with the devilish gleam in his eyes; who was this person? “Your expressions humour me milady. You would never expect a reserved person like me to have a display and appetite like this.”

Closing the gap by pressing his body against yours, his hands reached for you and intertwined them above your head. Without hesitation, his lips crashed against yours for another mouthful of air, swarming butterflies in your core. Your whines and moans were devoured effortlessly by his tongue the deeper he pressed on while your arousal slowly flowed out your cunt, adding to the stains already left on his cock. The friction from his erection rubbing against your fold accompanied by the waltz of your tongues left you shivering and covered in goosebumps. Each swirl of his tongue in your cavern left you panting and grinding into him aggressively.

Your legs, despite their soreness, wrapped around his slender waist and hooked their ankles to lock him in place. What an unorthodox contradiction you were exhibiting—it showed how much you craved him despite your mind pushing against the lethargy. Your body was your greatest traitor, and it did not please your mind knowing that Turgon manipulated its desires into feeding his salacious prowess appetite. His laughter echoed through the kiss and settled in the depths of your mind, melting the very fibre of your dignity and casting an enchantment. His sorcery was unmatched the more his tongue wrapped around yours and pulled sighs and indescribable moans out of your throat.

The yearning sensation grew when his grip around your wrist tightened and pressed greatly into the mattress. Now you understood what a warrior's grip felt like and meant. The deadliness and precision of his hands as they held you secure and firmly left you enjoying the pleasures of his hands. He was eating your lips and his body moved in great seduction. Grinding and gyrating against you in a mating ritual dance to hypnotize your body, soul and mind; to give your all and allow him to have his way.

Growing breathless as your kiss escalated, he broke it to stare with hazy turquoise eyes and reddened lips. “You told me you wanted this from the very start; can you handle the rest?” he whispered sincerely as he bit his lip.

Finding it impossible to reply as his hips slowly ground his cock through your folds, you choked on air, basking in the pulsation that developed from the motion. The little heartbeat in your cunt produced an alluring rhythm, preventing his erection from slowing its pacing, urging it to continue. Turgon was conscious of his actions, he bathed in your pheromones and body’s desire to satisfy the depraved beast. It was years since he had the bliss of indulging in pleasure in the highest form, and when you offered yourself to him so sweetly like a sacrifice, how could he refuse.

Releasing his left hand from your wrist, his fingers ghosted over your sweaty skin—dancing and adding to the sensations—to grip his cock and align it with your entrance. No time was wasted after seeing your response; Turgon slipped in to relish in the temporary absence of your warmth. His body crumbled momentarily, dropping more weight and immobilising you completely. The shudders of his pleasure rippled violently throughout his body, heightening all your senses and pushing you to the edge.

The very weight of his cock resettled within your heat, surrounded by the warmth and softness of your gummy walls pulsating and massaging his cock had his hips gyrating against yours. It had only been six minutes since he had returned to your heavenly temple, and it felt like a lifetime; your walls contracted to adjust to the sheer thickness he was endowed and Turgon swore to the heavens that it felt like the first entry. “It doesn’t matter how many times I have you tonight; you’ll always squeeze me so tightly,” his voice was raspy and stuffy as he struggled to focus.

The weight of him once more filled you to the brim; you should know that a King as regal and elegant as him would no doubt carry proportions to display his sophistication. Where he lacked in grith, he fulfilled in length and weight, and that one single vein that ran alongside his length. A hollow groan escaped his throat as your warmth enveloped him like a cocoon, swaddling him in a blanket.

Look up, your vision was blurred by the dark locks of his head buried in the crook of your neck. The warmth of his breath as he panted and slowly made the first move to pull out, produced ripples of goosebumps across your body. Your free hand shot out to dig its nails into his back while your body arched into his. The delicious friction of your nipples gliding across his sweaty chest, and the grip his hands fought to hold on your thigh sent shivers down your spine. Turgon had no time to build any momentum and went straight for his target, to get you incapacitated before the night was over.

Straightening his posture and rising from your body, you had a curt moment to breathe before your body was being manhandled and dragged further down the bed to meet the edge. Tossing your legs haphazardly over his shoulder, one hand rested on your thigh while the other released your hand and rubbed at your clit effortlessly. The slick sounds of sweaty skin slapping against each other reverberated off the walls of his royal chamber alongside his grunts and groans. You watched as he majestically stretched his neck backwards to present his elongated, swan-like throat to moan. The way his dark strands fell over his shoulders and cascaded down his back was meticulously thought out; he knew what he was doing with every action of his, and it was astonishing to see him so relaxed.

Struggling to keep up and fighting to swallow the whiny moaned as his hips continued to drive his cock deeper, your hands came down to grip his wrist for stability. You could feel the pressure easily building as his thrusts grew with expertise and sin. Toes curling and eyes rolling, Turgon had you in an ensnared and eating out of the palms of his hands. The way his thumb would thoroughly rub circles on your clit, meeting the rolls of his hips that caused his tip to forever brush against your sweet spot; you were close to paradise.

“I can feel something coming love. Are you giving it to me like you promised?” he asked, lips running across your chest before latching to your left nipple.

Nodding and whining some incomprehensible response because the pressure was building at insurmountable heights, your grips around his wrists tightened synchronically with your walls. The loud hiss escaping his lips as he felt your gummy walls clamping down on his cock forced his hips to stutter before regaining their momentum. He laughed into your skin and continued to suckle your breast, switching from left to right.

“T–Turukáno… Please, My King—oh Eru!” you wailed into the air, eyes shut and body convulsing as the pressure snapped. You released; you came.

Sensing the insurmountable build-up of pressure pushing against his cock and movements, he slowed his thrusts and was met with the surprise of a lifetime. Caught in between watching you spasm and enjoying the liquid expelling from your cunt, Turgon pulled away from your breast to cast sparkled turquoise eyes at your orgasm. He didn’t stop, only slowing down to ease your sensitivity and observed the volume being expelled, a dazzling smile struck him. With a bite to his bottom lip followed by a lick, his thumb returned to your clit without hesitation and regained a languorous rhythm.

Turning his thrusts at snail’s pace at first, he arched over your body and hovered his lips above yours. “My, my, my. Is this why you didn’t want to continue in the first place darling?” his whisper was enchanting, prompting you to peek at him through slithered lids. Your chest heaved laboriously as you fought to catch your breath and maintain a focused gaze on him. The urge to roll your eyes again was beckoning from his torturous actions was dire.

Not a soul would suspect their King having qualities to classify him as villainous, but physical intimacies always brought out another side to people. As timid and skittish as he appeared, the key factor was the blood of Finwe coursing through his veins. The hunger and passion to perform like his life was dependent on it was crucial. “N–Not at all my King, never!” Your voice was faint and softer with a soreness lingering; courtesy of all the screaming he had you performing earlier.

“Really? Then you will oblige should I desire another, and another, and more…” He brushed yours before he took your bottom lips into his mouth and nibbled on it. The serenity of the lustful aura he released had a chokehold placed on your fuzzy brain; you couldn’t tell up from down, left from right. If your King said to be his mistress, wife or anything else, you’d happily oblige without insurgency.

Small trickles of your release flowed out and soaked his entire length as its pace picked up. Your legs dangled over his shoulder and your body perfectly pressed you into the mattress. All the rings of cream you left on him earlier disappeared as he was cleansed by the essences you withheld. As his pace doubled and tripled, the obscene slapping of sweaty and wet skin against each other reverberated throughout the room. Loud gasps and small chuckles as his hand slipped while gripping the back of your thigh followed. You were folded in half while your feeble attempts at gripping his thighs to slow him down were futile. A roll of his hips and your moans were stuck in your throat.

“Fighting me now, hmm? Ngh…don’t want to serve your King and give me what I desire?” he tantalisingly whispered now that his lips were ghosting the shell of your ear. “You promised to satisfy me all night; why are you running?”

Trembling in his hold as he pounded into you, the force creating creaks in the bedframe, you struggled to shake your head at him as tears pooled and cascaded down your cheeks. The shakiness in your breathing as your body moved up and down the bed from his powerful thrusts, knocked all the wind out of your lungs. He was rattling your skeleton and you could feel it jiggling inside.

As the temperature of the room rose, so did the heat in your breaths and bodies. He felt uncomfortably hot as his skin was stuck to yours; sweat dripping down his muscles and rolling over the curves as his body clung to yours. Chest to chest, his was rubbing against your nipples creating a luscious friction that synchronically fell into a rhythm with his thumb drawing circles on your clit. If your head wasn’t spinning then, it most certainly was now. “Oh Eru…hmm, fuck! So good, so good, fuck!” you screeched into the heated air, nails digging into his thick, muscular thighs as his cock drove deeper hitting your sweet spot.

You couldn’t begin to compare how artfully magnificent his thrusts were. With each sinful roll of his hips, you felt like a story was being told; one of lust and desire, another one of loneliness and a yearning for companionship and one of unfulfilled desires treated shamefully. You knew of his loneliness after the passing of his wife, all his frustration pent up without an escape. He was a like bubbling pot with a sealed lid, waiting to explode. It was safe to say, you considered yourself lucky to catch his eyes to relieve his sexual tendencies and he was living up to all your fantasies and more. The King of your city had you sprawled out on his bed with your legs dangling over his shoulder while plunging his cock into your cunt for his satisfaction. You were a gift in his eyes, and he would choose no other to be with at that moment.

Shutting your eyes to relish at the moment properly, a yelp slipped out when he pressed more of his weight onto you, leaving you immobilised, thoroughly. Dropping your hands from his thighs, they reached for the bedsheets, not caring if you tore them apart as he battered your insides. His vigorous thrusting left your ass reddened from the weighted impact with every collision. In addition, his heavenly grunts and moans in your ear were a melody crafted by the Gods, it made your essence trickle from your cunt. “Your cunt sounds so sweet, music to my ears,” he cooed, “but I want to hear it squirting for me. Can you give me another release love? I know you can.”

Whining to look up at his face as he pulled back to hover, you could barely get a syllable out. A hand left your thigh and slithered up your torso, stopping to grope your breast and tweak your nipples before arriving at your face. He wasted no time cupping your chin and forcing you to look at his turquoise eyes. “Is my Lady going to cum for her King? Are you going to give it to me…” His eyes bore holes into yours, and his sinister smirk wasn’t helping as your walls began contracting and the pulsation grew in tempo.

You could feel your heart beating in the core of your cunt, right where his tip met your sweet spot. All the butterflies that swarmed your stomach left and travelled to your cunt to meet your heartbeat and increased the sensations. The widening of your eyes as your breathing shortened and released in small intervals had your muscles clenching around his cock tighter. The choked sob and stutter in his hips were no escape to cease performing, for he tunnelled through your gummy walls and left them battered. His goal: rearrange your insides and get you to squirt now that he knew it was possible.

“Tu–Tur–…fuck! I can feel it, it’s there…ngghh!” you wailed. Your nails had tightened their grip on the luxurious fabric and tugged with aggression as the pressure built with nowhere left to run.

“That’s it, good girl, just like that,’ he praised as the motion of his thumb steadied and he felt a force opposing the thrusting of his cock. For now, it was pleasant if he had not cum and painted your walls in his release, he was taken caught up in the bliss of knowing that he could pull such a reaction out of you. It went to show that he still had his abilities after all those lonely years without practice. Now all that meant was for him to continue his ministrations to regain his prowess.

Without a second to lose, Turgon wanted to savour the moment you squirted everything on him and drew closer to capture your lips. Eating your lips and moans, he breathed into your mouth at the insurmountable pressure that collided with his cock and sprayed all over his lower abdomen and thighs. You could feel your body shuddering as the dams broke and expelled everything you had all over him. The moans of satisfaction that vibrated in his chest through the kiss alerted you of his contentment. Shivering violently in his arms, your hands slipped in between and pushed against his stomach to cease his thrusting; he was still going without any remorse for your sensitivity. “Turukáno, ease…ease up on me, please. Sensitive,” you cried out.

Reluctantly he slowed his thrusting until they came to a stop, he eased out with an obscene squelch and stood climbed off the stand at the edge. Curling up as your legs flopped off his shoulders, your body convulsed and shook as though you’d been electrocuted.

The chuckle that followed when he gazed at your fucked out state, lips swollen and red, eyes hazy and teary, loopy smile, tear-stained cheeks, hair tangled and a sweaty body, he mentally gave himself a pat on his back. You observed the way he licked his lips as his eyes roamed your body while grinning and shutting your eyes with a dazed smile. The image of him stoking his cock as though he wasn’t tired was painted vividly in your imagination. Enough to tell you that your night wasn’t over.

“Tired?” his voice rang with concern, eyes cautious gauging your reaction and body for injury.

Squinting through your right eye, you noticed his arched brows, meditatively waiting for your reply. “Well, what you suspect Your Majesty? You’re the one who laid the damages.”

Chortling, he placed a knee beside your limped body and beamed, “You look like you could do with another round to remedy your fatigue. I’m still becharmed by your little trick for I desire to see more.”    

Flashing a look of scepticism at him, both eyes were opened staring at him with livid horror. “Your Majesty—Turukáno, you can’t be joking?!”

“I’m not. You commanded that you would be the source of my pleasure tonight, and to that I oblige,” he charmed with a magical grin as his body slid over yours like a snake. “Now be a good girl and spread your legs for me, I wish to note if my fingers can do the same.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @eunoiaastralwings @koyunsoncizeri @ranhanabi777 @someoneinthestars @mysticmoomin @aconstructofamind @rain-on-my-umbrella @the-phantom-of-arda @singleteapot @wandererindreams @asianbutnotjapanese @ilu-stripes @justellie17 @justjane @silverose365 @bunson-burner @batsyforyou

[forasecondtherewedwon]

second's (eclectic) masterlist

Hello! Under the cut, you’ll find all the fics I’ve written for these fandoms:

television:

The Artful Dodger ⁎ Bodyguard ⁎ Bridgerton ⁎ Daisy Jones & The Six

Daybreak ⁎ Deadly Class ⁎ Dickinson ⁎ A Discovery of Witches ⁎ Dollface

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier ⁎ For All Mankind ⁎ Gilmore Girls ⁎ Hawkeye

Heartstopper ⁎ The Irregulars ⁎ Loki ⁎ The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel

Masters of the Air ⁎ My Lady Jane ⁎ Nancy Drew ⁎ Never Have I Ever

Peaky Blinders ⁎ Percy Jackson and the Olympians ⁎ Preacher

The Queen's Gambit ⁎ Riverdale ⁎ Sanditon ⁎ Schmigadoon! ⁎ Sex Education

The Sex Lives of College Girls ⁎ Stranger Things ⁎ Ted Lasso

The Umbrella Academy ⁎ WandaVision ⁎ Why Didn't They Ask Evans?

The Wilds

film:

Avengers: Endgame ⁎ Black Widow ⁎ The Hunger Games ⁎ Inception

King Kong ⁎ Marriage Story ⁎ No Time to Die ⁎ Spider-Man ⁎ Star Trek

Thor: Ragnorak ⁎ Top Gun: Maverick ⁎ Twisters ⁎ Wonder Woman

daisy jones & the six

E / 3k / Eddie x Camila - “Just Like Andy Warhol Said”

T / 1k - “Life and Death in Laurel Canyon”

E / 4k / Karen x Graham - “Typical Wonderful View”

deadly class

E / 5k / Petra x Billy - “Rats’ Waltz”

E / 9k / Petra x Billy x Lex - “We Test on Rats”

dickinson

M / 2k / Emily x Sue - “Another Dickinson”

T / 1k - “How Luscious Lies”

G / 376 / Emily x Sue - “Lands Away”

a discovery of witches (phoebe x marcus)

E / 2k - “Gladly Be a Fool”

E / 3k - “The Night Today”

the falcon and the winter soldier

T / 7k / Sam x Bucky - 3 Simple Rules for Dating a Centenarian

T / 1k - “À la Carter”

E / 5k / Bucky x Sarah - “Chasing Water Pumps”

E / 8k / Sam x Bucky - The Great Madripoorian Snake Off

T / 3k / Bucky x Sarah - “Guest Side Story”

T / 3k / Sam x Bucky - “Never a Gull Moment”

T / 4k / Sam x Bucky - “Stare Enough”

T / 2k / Sam x Bucky - “They're Sayin' (You're Gonna Be My Man)”

for all mankind

T / 1k / Margo x Sergei - “The Bridges of Madison”

G / 286 / Pam x Ellen - “Ode to the Front Porch”

T / 1k - “This Mortal Doyle”

gilmore girls (rory x jess)

E / 11k - Dreams I’ve Yet to Find

E / 24k - You Need Me to Be With You

the hunger games

E / 2k / Peeta x Johanna - “Elevator Pitch”

E / 2k / Katniss x Peeta - “Finally, Finally”

E / 4k / Katniss x Cato - “Lonely at the Top”

loki

G / 1k - “If You're a Robot and You Know It, Clap Your Hands”

G / 1k - “Mr. Second Chance”

T / 2k - “Riding in Cars With Lokis”

my lady jane

T / 1k / Guildford x Jane - “After the Horse Has Bolted”

E / 3k / Jane x Guildford - “Bad Latin”

E / 3k / Jane x Guildford - “Emotionally Stabled”

E / 15k / Jane x Guildford - It's Enough, It's Enough

E / 4k / Guildford x Jane - “Pure Grey”

T / 4k / Stan x Frances - “So, Hey, Check Me Out”

E / 1k / Jane x Guildford - “These Days Forth”

never have i ever (devi x paxton)

E / 4k - “Boy Meets Girlfriend”

M / 2k - “No Harm, No Towel”

T / 4k - “Runaway Ride”

M / 5k - “Swimming the Sonoran”

peaky blinders

E / 15k / Tommy x Grace - The Grand Dream of Things

E / 3k / Tommy x May - “Preferred Pastimes”

percy jackson and the olympians (2023- )

G / 830 / Sally x Poseidon - “but for the grace of gods”

G / 1k - “lullaby for a rottweiler”

T / 1k / Percy x Annabeth - “salt-and-vinegar dreams”

G / 967 / Percy x Annabeth - “soundtrack to a tooth alignment”

M / 875 / Sally x Poseidon - “a tall, tall tale no one believes”

sex education

E / 3k / Ola x Lily - “and the stars (they all aligned)”

E / 2k / Maeve x Isaac - “Please May I…?”

star trek

E / 3k / Bones x Carol - “The Deserted Planet, the Gorgeous Woman, and the Goddamn Torpedo”

E / 7k / Scotty x Jaylah - Something to Fix

stranger things

T / 2k / Steve x Nancy - “Always Mr. Right”

T / 458 / Eddie x Chrissy - “And Here’s to You, Chrissy Cunningham”

T / 1k / Lucas x Max - “The Kate Escape”

T / 1k / Lucas x Max - “The Lovers’ Lake Effect”

ted lasso

E / 8k / Keeley x Rebecca - “Cat Ladies”

T / 1k - “Crimminology”

E / 2k / Roy x Keeley - “The Halftime of It”

E / 3k / Ted x Sassy - “Sass Backwards”

wandavision

E / 34k / Darcy x Jimmy - Hex Life

G / 1k / Wanda x Vision - “Mailbox Blues”

T / 1k / Wanda x Vision - “The Neighbour Never Rings Twice”

G / 1k / Wanda x Vision - “One Papaya, Two Papaya”

T / 26k / Darcy x Jimmy - Only in a Sitcom

G / 1k / Wanda x Vision - “Our Names in a Heart”

why didn’t they ask evans? (frankie x bobby)

E / 2k - “One-Man Chauffeur”

E / 5k - “Sailors’ Hands”

the wilds

T / 2k - “Fourth Coming”

T / 738 - “Interviews by the Pool”

T / 1k / Shelby x Toni - “a verse about expecting the worst”

one-offs

Avengers: Endgame : Dolls' Eyes

Black Widow : “Same Day, Different Jumpsuit”

Bodyguard : “Don’t Ever Let Me Start”

Daybreak : “Garden-Variety Monsters”

Dollface : “Fender Is the Night”

Hawkeye : “An All-American January Christmas”

Heartstopper : “we sum up perfection like a handbook”

Inception (2010) : “Je Ne Regrette Rien”

The Irregulars : “The Sun Is Coming Up (I Think It’s Time)”

King Kong (2005) : “I’m Actually Quite Familiar With Your Work”

Marriage Story (2019) : “the whole night and the next day together”

No Time to Die : “The Blood You Owe”

Preacher : “Lonely, Handsome”

Sanditon : “Finding Georgiana”

Schmigadoon! : “I Fleetly Flee, I Fly”

The Sex Lives of College Girls : “An Abundance of Caution Tape”

Thor: Ragnorak : “In the Arms of the Anus”

Twisters (2024) : “get ya thinkin' (that you need me)”

The Umbrella Academy : “The Park Across the Way”

Wonder Woman (2017) : “Unconquered”

my fic masterlists

10 fics - the artful dodger

10 fics - bridgerton

13 fics - the marvelous mrs. maisel (midge x lenny)

12 fics - masters of the air

13 fics - nancy drew

13 fics - the queen's gambit (beth x benny)

38 fics - riverdale

71 fics - spideychelle

21 fics - top gun: maverick

[amandacanwrite]

He stood atop his pedestal and beheld me with the empty sockets where his eyes might have been. The ravens and crows continued to scream around me until he lifted a single, bony hand.  

His hand pressed against his sternum, and from his hand drifted black wisps of ghostly essence, which gathered and coalesced until they became the very clothes I’d seen on the statue moments before. Black brocade silk, blood red sash, epaulets of gold—and atop his head, a crown of obsidian and bone.  

King of bone, ruler of death. I didn’t need to ask to know what he was, for on a primal level I could recognize exactly the realm he came from.  

-- A Waltz With The Bone King

[supper122]

uh idea for undertoad64

Roles:

Frisk - Toad

Flowey - Mushroom

Boo - Napstablook

Bowser - Toriel

Wario - Sans

Waluigi - Papyrus

Dogs - Various Goombas

Undyne - bully

Mad dummy - Piano ghost guy

Bird that carries you over a disproportionately small gap - Yoshi

Alphys - EGadd

MTT - Fludd

Asgore - Peach

Asriel - Luigi

Chara - Mario

Locations:

Ruins - Castle Outskirts

Snowdin - Cool, cool mountain

Waterfall - Dire, dire docks

Hotland - Lethal lava land

The core - Tick tock clock

New home - Castle outskirts but like different

The castle - peaches castle

Music:

Once upon a toad

File select

Powerup

Friendly foe

Castle outskirts

Wahoo! How lovely!

Here it comes...

The waiting game

Here it is!

Boo Battle

Game Over

Bowsers castle

Bowsers castle (Music Box)

Shell Shocked

wario.

WA HA HA!

Cool, cool mountain

Wahoo! How festive!

Goombass

Strange room...

Waltz of the goomba

Cool, cool village

Crazy Cap

WALUIGI TIME!!

WALUIGI DATE!!!

WALUIGI TENSE!!!!

WALUIGI BATTLE!!!!!

Calm down.

Spooky

Bully

Dire, Dire docks

Sprint!

Clear waters

2401

Unnecessarily high energy ride on a green dinosaur horse

Piano!

Ghost house

Boo-womp

Boo-tiful

Hallows eve

Pause

Koopa the quick

Bulber village

Bulber shop

GRRRRR

Stand up for yourself

shhhhhhhh

E-Gadd!

Cleanup time!

Flash fludd

Lethal lava land

Wahoo! So HOT!!!!

Dryer bones

Casino

Can you really call this a casino? i havent even lost my wife and kids to a gambling addiction!

Helpful tip

Dry-off

KIDDING!!!

Scuttlebug Salsa

Eel-ectrifying!

Oh, what i would do for rain...

Oh, what i would do for YOU TO DIE!!!

Somewhere, you'll find sunlight

Slide

Tick Tock Clock

Running dry...

Whats this?

Drowning in beauty 

Empty tank...

Endless stairs

Undertoad64

Garlic Breath

Here you are

I didn't get a letter about this...

Warp Pipe

Reine du château

PEACH

You silly goose

Toxic

Powerdown

This isnt the end, is it

It cant touch the keys

Courtyard

Personalized

King of the koopas 2

Lets-a-go.

Thunder and L-ightning

GAME. OVER.

Give it one more shot

L is real

Pasta Power

Peace restored

100%

Relax

One last hoorah!

Thank you so much for to playing my game!

Standing up for itself

Fostering a better future

Waterworks

STARSTRUCK

Bye-bye!

[rhiawriter]

The Dragon’s Cloak Ch. 6

Lyanna woke to the sound of knocking.

“Rise and shine, sweetlings!” The voice was mockingly sweet, and it took Lyanna a moment to recognize it as the king’s.

She sat up, naked, and turned to see Rhaegar cursing, and already out of bed. He tossed her a robe that had been artfully draped over a clothing chest, and she hastily wrapped it around herself. And not a moment too soon. The door swung open and Aerys waltzed into the room, with Lord Merryweather and several lords that were part of his inner circle in tow.

The king took in the sight of the bed, with its rumpled covers and the various pillows that had been thrown to the floor in the night’s activities. He looked at Lyanna, as she clutched her robe more closely to her, her hair a mess, her eyes still crusty with sleep. She didn’t know the time, but she could feel in her bones that she hadn’t had enough sleep that night.

Rhaegar stood at the opposite side of the room in a matching robe, smoothing his own hair and exuding more dignity than she thought was possible for a man who had hastily risen from bed the morning after his wedding night.

“Well, it certainly smells like they did their duty in here,” the king cackled.

“Oh yes, Your Grace,” Merryweather said. “The scent test! Any newlywed’s room should smell like a brothel, don’t you think?”

Lyanna looked at the floor her face burning. If she didn’t speak, if she didn’t give them any more material to mock her for simply doing what was expected of her, then maybe they would leave them be.

“But we must still check the sheets,” Aerys said. “There were some bets, my son, on if she would bleed given all the time she spends astride a horse. If there’s any doubt that she’s a maid, we can always send her back.”

“Yes, send the bitch back, so she can whelp little wolves in the north where she belongs,” laughed Lord Valeryon.

“Oh, ho!” The king laughed as he pulled back the blankets of their bed. There in the middle, was a dark red stain. “But it seems she is a virgin after all—”

“Was, Your Grace!” said Lord Chelsted, who bowed mockingly at Rhaegar. “Your son seems to have made good use of her.”

“Quite right,” said the king. His look darkened with something that looked like jealousy. "Well, if she is indeed both wedded and bedded, it seems, my boy, that you are indeed yoked to her. Unless she’s barren, you’ll need to come up with a creative excuse if you wish to send her back.”

Read the full chapter on Ao3!