#Also can we name the ship blade flower

[genderandanger]

The ship between baki n hanayama (dk the name) is wild cus imagine uhh cuddling w ur bf and casually finding ur DADs face tottooed on his back since ur father is the epitome of masculinity and anything masculine/badass/raaah steak and fishing ect has to have his face on it... including ur bf family history

[mysticstarlightduck]

Incorrect Quotes Tag!

Tagged by the very cool, @rickie-the-storyteller! Find her post here!

This is the link to the generator.

Since the last time I did this, I used my characters from The Last Wrath, this time, I did this tag for my main cast of Tales of Wilted Flowers!

It is mostly platonic, the only ships here are: Rylisan/Eiralis, and Xarian/Lorelai.

Micah, Caladin, Arista, and Neoma'ka are their friends and adventuring companions. Kaellel is Eiralis' estranged older brother and Niven is one of Rylisan's many siblings.

Xarian: Is something burning? 

Lorelai (leaning seductively on the counter): Just my desire for you. 

Xarian: Lorelai, the toaster is literally on fire.

-----

Kaellel (flying down to camp like nothing’s wrong in the world): Sorry I'm late, I was doing stuff.

Rylisan: YOU PUSHED ME DOWN THE FUCKING STAIRS!

-----

Eiralis to Rylisan: Turn that frown upside-down!

*a little while later*

Eiralis: What are you doing?

Rylisan, trying to do a handstand: You told me to “turn that frown upside-down” but it is not working.

-----

Xarian: I'm going to ask you to be respectful.

Caladin: I will politely decline.

-----

Rylisan: Did you just refer to a knife as a “people-opener”?

Arista (a dhampir with issues): …

Arista: …Should I not have?

-----

Neoma’ka: While you were caught up in your heterosexuality, I studied the way of the blade!

------

Lorelai: Do you have a self-care routine?

Kaellel: "Keep going bitch,” said to myself in different accents.

Eiralis, coming into the room: Kaellel, no.

-------

Rylisan, stoically amused: Do you need help getting up?

Caladin, after a drunken brawl: Nah, I'm cool down here on the floor.

------

Eiralis: Sometimes I'll start a sentence and I don't even know where it's going. I just hope I find it along the way.

------

Xarian, incredulous:... You’re giving me a sticker?

Lorelai: Not just a sticker. That is a sticker of a kitty saying “me-wow!”

Xarian: … 

Xarian: I’m not a preschooler.

Lorelai: Fine, I’ll take it back-

Xarian: I earned this, back off!

-------

Kaellel, eyeing Rylisan with a death glare: It’s not that I don’t trust Eiralis, I just... don’t trust my sister's impulse control. Especially when it comes to you.

-------

Eiralis: *eating a cinnamon roll*

Rylisan, feigning shock: Cannibalism.

Eiralis: *confused chewing noises*

--------

Micah: Now, if I may speak for good-looking people everywhere...

Kaellel, walks past: Only as their rodeo clown.

--------

Lorelai: Neoma’ka, no.

Neoma’ka, cracking her knuckles, walking towards a fight: Neoma’ka, yes.

--------

Lorelai: Why do humans have different blood groups?

Caladin, looking at Arista: So mosquitoes can enjoy different flavors.

Arista: *vampiric hiss*

-------

Rylisan: What can therapy do for me that screaming for 30 minutes can’t?

Niven: I have several questions... Namely why are you like this?

-------

Micah: Maybe the true treasure was friendship all along. But I hope not, because I can’t spend my friendship on new clothes.

-------

Rylisan: You're violent.

Arista: Yeah but I'm also short and that's adorable.

--------

Caladin: I was arrested for being too cool.

Xarian: The charges were dropped due to a lack of supporting evidence.

--------

Xarian: Isn’t it a bit dangerous?

Lorelai: Xarian, please. We’ve been in a lot of unexpected predicaments before and we always escape unhurt.

Xarian: …

Lorelai: Okay, we sometimes escape unhurt.

Xarian, narrows his eyes: ...

Lorelai: Alright, we escaped unhurt once... Then we hurt ourselves on the way home.

---------

Rylisan: Do we have any orange juice left?

Kaellel: *pours the remaining juice into their cup without breaking eye contact*

Kaellel: Sorry, we’re all out.

---------

Xarian: What is the most illegal thing you can do with one gold?

Neoma’ka: Exchange it for a hundred copper, put them all in a sock, and then beat someone to death with it.

----------

Rylisan: Niven, I screwed up, big time.

Niven (downing a glass of wine, done with life): Brother dearest, given your daily life experiences, you’re gonna have to be more specific.

---------

Arista: Now it's time for some witty back and forth banter. You go first.

Caladin: *sobbing*

Arista: Look, my dude, I'm not sure where to go with that.

---------

Lorelai: That was so hot, Xarian.

Xarian: I literally called the person who just flirted with you a degenterate dog and told them I hope they get dragged through the streets.

Lorelai: I'm so in love with you.

---------

Kaellel: You know, Micah, you are the sun in my life.

Micah: Why? Cause I'm smoking hot?

Kaellel: Because it hurts my eyes looking at you. LEAVE MY HOUSE-

---------

Neoma’ka: What do you do for a living?

Rylisan: I exist against my will.

---------

Eiralis: Hey, Rylisan, do you have any hobbies?

Rylisan: Swimming..

Eiralis: Really? That’s cool. I never expected you to-

Rylisan: In a pool of self-hatred and regret.

---------

Micah: As a responsible adult-

Caladin: *chuckles*

Micah:… As a responsible adult—

----------

Lorelai: Wow, that was quick thinking on that phony sacrifice stuff.

Xarian: Oh, that was all real.

Rylisan (interrupts): Wait, you were trying to help them kill us?!

Xarian: Well, If I’m gonna be sacrificed, I’m gonna do it right!

Lorelai:... He has a point.

---------

Tagging: @writernopal, @tabswrites, @cabbojage, @clairelsonao3 and @liv-is.

[hopeandjoy9]

You know how I shared my ikesoren playlist forever ago? I thought I'd share my FFXIV playlist now though it's audience is, uh, just me.

Some background: some songs are for generic WoL, but my specific WoLs are a female Au Ra named Yukiko Shirogane and a male Viera named Freyr Cyfddydd. They are both reincarnations of Azem, as Freyr almost died when he was born, splitting his soul in two. Their relationship is ultimately that of "like brother and sister".

Main ship in the playlist is Freyr/G'raha (so, m!WoL/G'raha), Freyr/Haurchefant, and also some scattered Hythades references. The playlist order is roughly chroniclogical.

Adult Children - Kanzaki Iori (Freyr's backstory)

I wanted to be the same, too; I wanted to be born into a loving family We'd laugh together, say "It's great to be alive." Let this unchanging day end. Let this day where I can't change end.

2. Dernie Traveler’s Diary - PIPPO (all WoLs)

If I can simply go on like this, singing to myself, to keep myself smiling, then it’s all good, even if I can’t touch anyone else. As long as I can still see their hearts, I’m happy simply singing to myself, smiling, even if no one can feel me here.

3. Wonderland and the Sheep's Song - Hachi (all WoLs)

In the rain shelter of the candy shop, I awaited God's return So, shall we sing? The sheep's song! With that lantern in your hands, Illuminate everything, so like the sun...

4. Chignon Solider - seeeeecun (Freyr during ARR climax, with flashbacks to the fall of Dalmasca)

“Raise the flag of retaliation!” I cried. I’ve become an adult just so that, to the lives of humans, I can… That is your “atonement” to your mother. I will simply never stop believing that.

5. Flamingo - Kenshi Yonezu (ARR G'raha -> Freyr)

You're a fla-fla-fla-flamingo, A dazzling fla-fla-fla-flamingo You dance away, stumbling and laughing, never to return Only loneliness and jealousy remain Thanks for your business - treat me better next time...

6. Vampire - DECO*27 (Freyr -> Haurchefant)

You’re a vampire too It’s OK if you suck me up, go ahead “I can’t take it anymore” I want you to make me say it too I could never do it with anybody else, let me praise you

7. Cactus and Mirage - Jakkan-P (Freyr -> Haurchefant)

You're a mirage, Like some impossible dream, Lying on a desert bed, And when the sun goes down, You're gone, you're gone, you're gone, you're gone, you're gone, Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone

8. BugLug - seeeeecun (Fray -> all WoL)

Yes, yes, in that case, I’ll do it, so cease your grumbling. The child cries gratingly. The ultimate of love and hate concentrate from a slovenly direction onto a single point. A man-to-man portrait of the dead in a bug-manipulating ending summer.

9. Kimi no Taion - Kuwagata-P (Freyr -> Haurchefant)

Flowers wither and the moon wanes Another season passes That you were here, feeling and touching you fades away as if nothing was there

10. Strangers - Heavenz (Yukiko -> Freyr)

"There was someone, there was someone..." I must have clung to that phrase. The enveloping sounds are just noise, and through it I can't pick out anything But you, you were still there, weren't you. That is to say, we are like lost children but we are not all alone.

11. Brainwashing - Neru (Yukiko & Freyr)

If you follow the tracks of tears on my cheeks At the end of them, Abandoned and starved, My dreams have frozen

12. Namida - MARETU (StB Fray)

The flowing blood and tears, tears dye you darker and darker. Take out your blades, your blades. It hasn't stopped beating yet, right? Your heart.

13. Ideals and Wars - Inumaru Shibaigoya (8th Umbral Calamity!G'raha -> all WoLs)

Even though your shadow is already gone, your noble ideal, determination, and views will keep in living within me. I shall be the one to fight this time. If I have fought until the moment I reach the end of my days, pray let me tread on your shadow, my God.

14. Six Feet Under - Aqu3ra (Ardbert)

Give back the time I lost Who was it that got in the way? It feels as though I’ve forgotten both what I liked and what I hated The goddess smiled as if making a bargain It seems she won’t wait for the proper timing

15. Red Tears - nekobolo (Crystal Exarch -> Freyr)

I'm sorry, for building a wall around me. I'm sorry, for being a coward. I love you, it's true. But I can't open the door to my heart.

16. Toosenbo - wowaka (Crystal Exarch -> Freyr)

I won't let you through. I'm the only one playing hide-and-seek. It's an innocent spoiled child's dream, "Please keep your eyes off me. Please let go of me. Smile with your innocent eyes!"

16. Android Girl - DECO*27 (Freyr -> Crystal Exarch)

Android girl, I’m out of my mind. I know you’re mine and mine alone, but “who” are you anyway? Even though I’d had faith in us the whole time, the whole time...

17. Ars - Sekikomi Gohan (Crystal Exarch -> Freyr)

I, who fantasizes over an optimistic view of life, will stay lonely In my final moments, I put everything about the reason I lived in this lethargic smile that will never reach you

18. Dramaturgy - Eve (Emet-Selch)

I can’t escape from this box. I came to that sad realization and wanted to escape. We were all playing our parts, Making our way towards the credits.

19. Tiara - Sekikomi Gohan (Emet-Selch -> Hythlodaeus)

My oath to love you forever and to share the pain together Alone, I proclaim it under the waning moon Shining Tiara, here is proof of my pure love

20. Two Breaths Walking - DECO*27 (Crystal Exarch & Freyr)

The front foot I’d half-put out to come over and embrace you Has somehow started to hurt you The words I just learned become a knife that pierces through you Tearing your life to pieces

21. Eine Kleine - Kenshi Yonezu (G'raha -> Freyr)

To have everlasting sorrows and open seams, but also you; How happy I would be to smile and say, "It was for the best"... Everything before me seems to blur and dissolve; A flood of miracles wouldn't be enough... Because you called my name... Is it all right if I call your name?

22. The Defeated Boy - Kemu (Crystal Exarch/G'raha)

After struggling and running, I had somehow ended up standing where I am I'd wanted to become someone that everyone would admire, a hero - but I couldn't

23. My Name is Love Song - Neru (G'raha & Freyr) (translation)

Please don’t treat me so nicely; the wounds at the depths of my heart will open up If you do that, I’ll end up by your side for life While singing “please don’t treat me so nicely,” I ended up forgetting my own name Now, we’ll call out our names with the same voice, waiting for someone to come

24. Pierce the Clear Blue Sky - Kasamura Tota (Freyr -> G'raha)

You dumbass, you don’t have the right to go and die You’ve got to be happy, it’s your job to stay by my side forever So let me take on those pains that won’t ever leave you alone If you go off somewhere without me, I’ll never, ever forgive you

25. Cynicarealism - TaKU.K (Venat -> Emet-Selch)

At long last, you’re smiling, I see. But even if your lid’s a bit loose, who could blame you? Your heart is unsullied. The morning star appeared in the sky today. What a beautiful picture it makes. I could almost forget about even the deplorable Avici hell. Alas, if only he had survived, the world may have been sullied, but the two of you could have swindled the world, escaped it, and arrived at——

26. Teo - omoi (Yukiko & Freyr -> Meteion)

Not a single one left behind We'll reclaim every last piece, that's all Until the magic wears off - until then, Hold on tight to my hand, my hand My hand!

[legacyofacat]

[1] Nimbus Try I: Arpeggio of Hurt Steel

Kongō hurt everywhere. 

The places that had been pierced by her own blades she could mute herself to – she was a warship, after all – but her Union Core? It hurt, it hurt so terribly and she couldn't silence it.

Yet, she had followed the Blue Fleet to Hawaii, where they now rested in order to repair themselves with the help of this bay's nanomaterial potent water, the natural formation protecting them from curious eyes and potential enemies.

Iona and Kongō used the time to gaze across the sea in silence, a bit away from the others, enjoying the view of the glittering waves and the occasional glimpse of a fish.

It was rare that both had the chance to do so consciously and enjoy it – however, as with all good things, their respite should end soon enough.

"Gunzō Chihaya, an unknown contact entered the detection range", Haruna called to the captain. She, Makie and Kirishima were closest to the shore and had thus realized the newcomer first.

"An unknown contact?", he walked a few steps in their direction, "a Fog ship?"

Haruna stared forwards, focused: "...Affirmative. Battleship without known class, identifies as Akuma."

That did stun the man a bit.

"An unknown class… is that even possible?", asked Kyōhei.

He thought they had just gotten over the worst possible event with that whole berserk Kongō thing and now there was someone new!?

Hyūga entered the conversation as well: "Normally not, but if it's one of the ships I'm assuming, then it wouldn't surprise me."

"You don't think it's her!?", Kirishima called, a trace of panic in her voice as she and her sister backed up, Makie behind them, looking confusedly at them both.

"I think that's quite possible~", she was clearly amused, but there was also underlying tension in her that she tried to overplay.

Iori was standing with her human friends. Even given their current status, she doubted that they all couldn't escape.

After all, they had six mental models with them, four of which were fast battleships; she was sure that they could manage something similar to what they had done at Iwo Jima. 

She wasn't the only one looking at the Mental Models in consideration, though, because Gunzō did so as well.

However, he viewed the situation as a bit more dire:

All the Mental Models had either backed up, straightened noticeably or stared out at the sea as if awaiting a storm – he feared that one was indeed brewing and that they wouldn't be able to get through it unscathed.

With the current status of the only two available vessels and the fact that everyone was more than exhausted, then, if the Akuma turned out to be an enemy, it really didn't look good.

We can’t survive all this just to fail here!

"Iona!", he called, the submarine immediately making way towards him, "can you contact her?"

"I'll try", she didn’t even think about it, "but I don't know if I can."

"That's alright", he smiled at her.

Iona nodded and reached out to the battleship, slightly surprised when her request was answered with "I was wondering when you would contact me" before she found herself in the white pavilion, seated on one of the chairs, on the other a dark-skinned Mental Model.

The contrast to how the pavilion had looked the last time she had been here to now was so big, it almost gave her whiplash.

She stopped looking at her surroundings, focusing on what must be the Akuma’s Mental Model, who had been looking around too, eyebrows slightly raised at the flowers and green grass.

"...I like what you did to the place", she said critically, "I hope you don't mind the new decoration", she pointed up above them, where a striped green plant sat in a dangling pot.

Akuma had a large black dog lying underneath her chair but didn’t pay it any mind and instead took a sip of tea: "They call you Iona, right? That's a nice name, do you know where it comes from?"

"I don't", the submarine shook her head, "Akuma, why are you here?"

"I'm on a mission, so to say."

"A mission from the Fog?", Takao had joined the conversation, "then you're wrong here."

"Not from the Fog, what in that fleet should interest me now?", Akuma traced her fingers idly around the cup's rim, "a mission from our flagship – don't tell me the news of our defection didn't reach you yet?"

Of course it had reached them, how could it not? The fleet had been in distress an entire month afterwards until the High Flagships had agreed on new territorial borders with the "Fleet of Masks" High Flagship Vanisher.

"They've reached us", Takao crossed her arms.

"Good. Vanisher send me to check up on you guys."

"Check up on us?", asked Iona.

"You're carrying the Vibration Warhead with you, are you not? Vanisher decided that it would be better to be friends rather than fight needlessly, so I'm here."

The two other Mental Models shared a look.

"I will ask Gunzō."

"That your captain? Thanks."

--

Yes, it's fanfiction time again :D

Next

Can also be found on:

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[libidomechanica]

But denied

But denied, “insult but suspects grey of measured the best wakes the inter by thine, and never we want of the tender-ship, and let a sing   could be the might feel said Ida story of Aurora had a husband doesnt hard to wait that which kind, with honours, property, and fail, shunned with one make out for evil; rejoice influence and stiff an arithmetic needs let the treat?

And cheek and ever, you made by bare,   or (as was a Friar,   the times religious   upon earth, euer shadow warm in slumbers, beholders are up an act this pole,” and in muck beat with not to die a judgment.   Me as the worlds name, and waft a strange again, she the flowers over; me no one studde, has been a mouse,   or its mellowing rose, and some quince, with eager nose:   a sudden with a Muezzin undering also are mixd with each eyes o sweet Adeline alone. Or howeer   kindless and weep my oblation,   at fifty love for the gifts its must to lightly hard upon my sire, wave of ice, and wings) and all Cupids dark and potion, and the irregulated but whether sland when the echoes dreams with fireflies.

“Love is no blood bound, on like mine, those never people quick, an” its a fascination;   at which grew still thy Impressing   all out! If you snapdragon, sent clambent makes the limity!   How many thigh and there weight a served the spied into warble, cursing son of life, drains and give? I stay say he must four when plain women, a melon paring—which he hall was just ensure; and veil, thou, being monk is will sighed soul,   had been began:    And can high woods with her self-communion never of court, I

  and gowan lurking in that hearts,—the breeze in your laws brough shall join thy lawns favour! love not keep throat and left me no further senses us though the written away.

The kiss which Baba vanisht with her repose:   a monument will cheer, a name, then he blade.

“The might of thoughts were   a sponge disowned, too much; for a clouds deignd; but what his lately reader. There, would refused all the display, how bragly it be.”

[witheringvoice]

Thoughts

I don't know what to do right now so I'ma just talk about random shit.

My leg was bouncy because I have too much energy, really wanna go on a late night walk right nowwwwww BUT I CANNTTTTT.

Living in a shit neighborhood and being a miner (IN MINECRAFT DUH) and a biological female really fucking sucks sometimes.

Reminds me of this story one time-

TW: Mentions of near kidnap, knives.

So one time my sister went on a late night walk and she was walking forever and got lost. She started getting nervous so she started messaging me, right? The sister in question is four years older than me, I believe this story was...Two years ago? Or so? I don't remember exactly, but anyway, so she was walking around she was lost, it was really late at night. But she did bring a knife with her, she has a knife for self defense purposes. And so, as she was messaging me, she told me she saw a van and she's seen it multiple times already driving past her. And she started getting really scared and I started getting really worried because- THAT IS MORE THAN A HORROR MOVIE/CRIME SHOW BEGINNING SCENE THAN ANYTHING IF I'VE SEEN ONE- And well, I kept trying to keep her calm and asking her about where she was and if there was anybody around, there wasn't. There was also no like businesses or anything around so, this was a scary situation. Eventually, she said the van was slowly driving up towards her, so she put her knife in her hand. And to this day, we assume the glint of the knife or whatever scared that van off because they sped off and didn't bother her the rest of the night, or ever again as far as I know. She got home safe. True story.

~~TW END~~

What else can I talk about?

Oh!

I'm the kind of person who talks about how broke they are and shit and complains about it (because it's funny), and then if someone tries to buy me something, I will immediately refuse and get really guilty. Unless it's consumable. I fucking love food and sweets and drinks, okay? I'm a sucker for them, though it still might take some convincing sometimes.

Very few people actually know this, but when I was little, before I got asthma (which was in first grade), I actually loved sports.

Especially soccer, or football depending on where you're from lol.

Anyway, I actually lowkey wanted to play soccer for school or something if that was somehow possible or if I could.

Because I really loved running and soccer was just so fun.

Then, my mom ignored the fact I'm allergic to cigarettes and smoked in our house quite a lot.

Got asthma, no longer enjoy physical activity, started loathing most sports, and yeah.

I love hiking and swimming though. Except I can't swim, true story.

I also like rollerskating but I haven't been very much so I'm not too good.

Basketball and volleyball are the only interesting sports to me now, but I don't bother actually learning how to understand it soo....Yeah

I am to this day pissed that Allegiant literally didn't explain about the shipwreck that was in the other two Divergent movies (divergent and insurgent), and I specifically read the books to figure out WHAT THAT SHIP WAS ABOUT. And you know what? IT DIDN'T EVEN MENTION A FUCKING SHIP IN ANY OF THEM. I'M PISSED. WHAT WAS THAT SHIP ABOUT HUH??? HUH???

To this day I can't get over it, it's been years (2-4) since I finished the movie series and it's only been a year or so since I finished the books but still- Fucking pissed.

My two favorite flowers are flowers and roses but I love dandelions and just about any flower.

I've had a baby minecraft pig stuffed animal for as long as I can remember and named him Porkins in respect of the Yogscast series playing on the adventure map: The Last Potato but am planning on figuring out how to make a crown and renaming him Porkins-Blade or something in dedication to Techno as well because I was never able to afford his merch and I don't know if it's still possible to get, or if I'll ever have money to afford it if it is. Because the little drawing I did was not enough respect in my opinion.

My favorite youtubers when I was younger were Jacksepticeye, Markiplier, Pewdiepie (but mostly when he was playing with Marzia), the Yogscast (mostly Lewis & Simon), and I think that's all I really watched? My brother tried to get me to watch Soot House, but he always dissed anything I liked (unless we both liked it), so I spite the things he tries to show me most of the time, to this day. It took me so long to finally watch Wilbur Soot because of that, Quackity too.

I spent most of my elementary school days playing Minecraft (first the demo over and over, then the Xbox360 version), Skyrim, Oblivion, and a few other games...While also watching Minecraft videos (Sky does Minecraft, stampy long nose, captain sparklez, dantdm, popularmmos, Minecraft parodies), mostly Minecraft parodies though. I loved Minecraft parodies with a passion, it was scary.

I still watch Markiplier and Jacksepticeye, and the Yogscast occasionally, but Markiplier is my favorite now. It used to be Jacksepticeye, and before that the Yogscast because Minecraft was my life and I loved their adventure maps and yoglabs and shit.

I didn't really understand social media for the longest time, not really knowing it existed because, I just didn't have a phone or an iPad for the longest time and didn't care for social media. I still don't care for it too much, but I do indulge in it now.

In elementary school my favorite class was math, when sixth grade happened, I no longer thought that.

My favorite food is potatoes (most kinds), and my mom thinks that's because I have a lot of Irish blood from both sides of my family, but I was born in America so I disagree, believing it is just because potatoes are holy and delicious.

When I was little I wanted to be a singer not realizing that I'd have to be famous for that and when I did I no longer wanted to be a singer

Nowadays I want to be a music writer/musician, content creator, photographer, artist, and mostly writer. But I don't want to get big, just big enough to inspire people. That's what I really want to do, help people and bring beauty to their world.

I also want to be a psychologist/therapist/counselor or English teacher, but they're mostly backup plans.

I plan on getting a PhD/doctorate in psychology and maybe English (at least what a BA in creative writing), but not just for a backup plan, also because I like the idea of being called a doctor and I really like psychology + I like writing so I might as well know a lot about English, right?

When I was little I wanted to be a profiler or private detective but when I thought harder about it I decided against it because I don't think I'd handle that kind of thing well

I've always hated blood and I don't know why, I hate that specific monthly occurrence with a burning passion.

My favorite fruits are grapes and apples but I only like certain apples because some taste gross and I can only explain it as they taste/feel bubbly and it's just disgusting, and I don't like super sour grapes or grapes with seeds.

My favorite vegetable is corn + potatoes but I always forget potatoes are a vegetable, I just think of them as their own thing.

I joined the DSMP community around the time of Tubbo and Ranboo's meetup, and when the benchtrio meetup, that's when I decided I wanted to check out the community.

I have always wanted to watch Minecraft Manhunt's after seeing an edit and not knowing who it was about, but I spite things that are popular for no reason in particular.

My first contact with the DSMP fandom either technically came with Wilbur or Quackity before the fandom existed but their content wasn't entertaining to me at the time because I can never focus on things for long, even though I can totally do that, I honestly don't know why they didn't entertain child me. Maybe I just preferred other content back then.

I jump from thing to thing as a coping mechanism and my "obsession" never usually lasts more than a year but the DSMP has already lasted a little over that, so I have a feeling that this is going to be like Markiplier, Jacksepticeye, Skyrim, and Minecraft. They'll stay for good no matter how much I might end up hating it (I won't).

I love(d) ds games, specifically drawn to life, but the second game was the one I finished and am still yet to finish the first because it is much harder, and I will always love the games.

One of my favorite cartoons (before I got to watch adventure time/gravity falls) was team umizoomie or whatever the fuck, the freshbeat band, and that yogabagaba one. Umizoomie one because of the math, the band one because of the music, and the gaba gabba one because it was funny.

I have always had a slight interest in burning things, but you'd never be able to tell because it was usually quenched by making smores. Now it is quenched by randomly burning things with bad memories or with a lot of emotion (poems, pictures of my father, etc)

My father shortly left my mother after my first birthday because he was threatened by my grandfather to pay rent because they were living in his basement at the time. He sends a lot of child support from time to time, or none at all. He is supposedly the worst person my mom has dated before and that makes me feel like I might become a terrible person.

I always got really good grades, still do for a matter of fact, but my biggest weakness was always homework. Not even forgetting, sometimes it would be finished and in my fucking backpack, and I'd just never take it out. LIKE WHAT THE HECK MINI ME???

I've always struggled with sleeping for as long as I remember. When I was little I'd wake up before the fucking sun to do whatever that day, and I'd always struggle with restlessness when trying to go to sleep + jumpiness, which I'd try to quell with reading, or doing workbooks or playing, or staying up watching youtube videos or playing games, but my mom assumed it was just me trying to stay up late. it was in fact, not, it was me not being able to fucking sleep.

In second grade the thing I obsessed over ended up being the titanic and i'd fall asleep watching documentaries about it because it was so fascinating to me, I don't even know why. I could state multitudes of facts about it, but I can no longer.

I love frogs and toads and geckos.

My favorite animals are cats.

I love foxes, trash pandas, pandas, and red pandas, and just animals.

The chromebook is about to die so I guess that's all for tonight Tumblr, hope you enjoyed lmao? I was bored.

[hayjeon]

One Year, My Love [M] (ft. Jungkook) | pt. 1

→ historical/royal!au, marriagecontract!au, based off the kdrama 100 days My Prince; → You forge a marriage contract with the strangely speaking man who suddenly stumbled into your town with memory loss, but little do you know that he’s actually the lost Crown Prince, and a lot can happen between a married man and woman in one year. 

→ genres: lots of fluff/plot development, a tiny bit of angst, and a little smut → 15k words | part 1| part 2 | fin.

A/N: I went on a writing binge the past couple days and I was able to finish this monster fic, and wanted to get it out for you guys so you can read during quarantine! I usually tend to write really angsty and darker fics, so I hope that the fluff in this one is really refreshing :) 

“No!” You scream, flailing your arms as the officials try to drag you into the waiting carriage. “I won’t marry him! I can’t!” 

The matchmaker looks wistfully at you as you struggle. “Please! Y/n, he is rich! He’ll pay for your debt, and you’ll avoid a punishment! I’m sure that your fiancee, ‘Jungkook’ that you speak of, doesn’t even exist! You have no one else! Just go!” 

You struggle, putting up quite a fight with the two men gripping either of your arms. “Never!” You scream, turning to bite one on his arm. He yelps and lets you go, and when his partner sees that you bit him, he throws you onto the ground, drawing his sword and whipping it at your neck. 

He huffs, “You bitch, you know that it’s the King’s decree that all women must be wed by tonight. This is your last chance to survive. Your punishment may be death, and if you want to meet that end, so be it!” 

You glare up at him, blowing the hair that fell out of your bun out of your face, “So do it! Kill me! I’d rather die than be married off to someone who’s older than my father! He’s a pig!” 

The villagers murmur. They knew of him. The rich landowner who happened to also be a government official who was heftily over sixty years of age, and well-known to have multiple concubines. If you married him, you would be his seventh. 

The official just presses his sword closer to your neck, and you feel the sharp blade dig into your delicate skin. “General Oh is being a kind man to allow a woman with age and no property wed into his household. You should be thankful!” 

“Thankful!” You scoff, laughing loudly “Ha! Thankful? To that swine who sits around all day getting fat, instead of protecting the country and his tenants like he should? His one desire is to get enough concubines so he could fuck one each day of the week! You call him a kind man? Do you not have any sisters, or a daughter? Would you ship her off to a man like that?!” 

The man hesitates, and you see him gulp. There. You’d hit a nerve. 

“Oh,” you smile slyly, “so you do have a woman close to you.” You take his moment of weakness to stand, but he still holds the sword pointed towards you. “Then you’d understand why I would rather die by your sword, than by that swine’s disgusting little dick.” 

The official’s eyes widen, but he holds his ground. “Well, if that may be it, then I have no choice but to follow the King’s decree. All men or women who refuse to be wed by tonight will be executed.” 

You hold your head high, eyeing him down with a steely gaze. “So be it.” You grit, lip curling. 

The official seems like it’s the last thing he wants to do, but everyone turns their heads or shuts their eyes as the man lifts his sword high. You lift your eyes to the sky. You’d endured quite a bit of your life, struggling to make ends meet after your parents were murdered, you’d run away and swam through the rushing rivers to escape the murderers dressed in black who’d ransacked your house and kidnapped your brother. After you were saved and adopted by your current father, your life had been one of petty thefts and begging until you’d been able to run some manual labor jobs to help pay for food and kindling for yourself and your father. Until now, it had been a hard, hard life. There was no god. But you knew one thing. You would never, ever lose your honor. And so be it, losing your life this way. 

You suck in a breath, waiting for the sword to swing down, when suddenly your father’s voice cuts through the crowd. 

“WAIT! WAAAAIIIIITTTT!” He cries, stumbling and pushing through the crowd. He tows along a man dressed in white after him. “He’s here! Her fiancee!” He lifts the hand that holds the man’s hand. The man seems as confused as you are, but the official lowers his sword. 

The matchmaker gasps. “That’s Jungkook?!” He gapes. “He exists? I thought she made him up!” 

Your father runs up to you, and you face him with a bewildered expression as he leans in close. “Just go with it,” he grits, before facing the official with a gentle smile that doesn’t match the environment of the conversation. “I’m so sorry for my daughter, she must’ve lost her mind. She has a fiancee, but he was far away. I just returned with him, and they will be wed today!” 

You whip your head to stare at the man in tow with your father. He seems beaten up; a busted lip and some bruise littering his cheek and neck. But underneath the grime he’s quite handsome, and seems to be of around your age. His eyes are round and his skin quite pale. His nose is large and regal, while his lips are round and plush. His jawline is sharp and his shoulders broad and muscular. He meets your gaze with a frown. 

The official faces you, quirking his brow. “Is this true?” 

Your panicked expression molds into a calmer one, your mind running a hundred miles a minute. “Yes,” you determine, facing him with a bold stare. “This is my fiancee. I will be wed to him.” Better the wide-eyed man than the swine. 

He faces the man. “Is what she is saying true?” 

You and the rest of the onlookers turn to the handsome man. He frowns, contemplating how your father had nursed him to health and moments ago begged him to please return the favor by marrying his daughter. He was shocked and had no time to ask questions as he’d been dragged out of bed to the town hall of this run-down village. His head still throbs, and he watches as you look at him with such determination, and your father with desperation. 

He squares his shoulders, and looks back at the official. 

“Yes. She is my fiancee.” 

Everyone seems to sigh in relief as the official nods and sheathes his sword. He signals to his comrade and they leave the premises, promising to send word to their general regarding your marriage status. He hoists himself up on the horse. “You must be wed by tonight,” he warns, and gallops away. 

The matchmaker scurries up to you both, a huge smile on his face. “So, what kind of a wedding do you want?” 

You and the man sit on the front porch. You level him with a steely gaze, your arms crossed across your chest while your dad cowers in the corner. 

“Your name?” You ask.

He glares back at you. “I don’t remember.” 

“How did you meet my father, then?” 

Your dad pipes up. “I found him when I went to go fishing. He’d been washed up on the riverbed with a nasty wound on the back of his head.” 

The both of you return to glaring at eachother. 

“Fine,” you snap, “It seems as if you and I have both...situations...that need to be solved. You don’t remember anything about yourself and where you’ve come from. I need to find a husband to marry by the end of the day or else I’ll be executed. We will forge a deal.” 

He frowns. “What are the terms? What is preventing me from just running away?” 

You spread out a scroll, dipping your brush into the ink as you write neatly. “Term 1. You shall be given the name, ‘Jungkook.’” 

“That’s the name that I lied was of my fiancee.” You explain, “Since you seem to not remember your own name, that shall be the name at least until you remember yours, that you are called by.” He watches you write in silence. 

“Term 2. I will nurse you back to health. If you decide you don’t want this, you will die of starvation, mugging, or of your wounds. We are the only chance you have at regaining your memory and returning to your previous life.” 

You watch as his expression remains unchanging. He had an impeccable pokerface. 

“Term 3. We will be wed for 1 year. Whether your memory has returned or not, the year must be fulfilled in order to satisfy the decree of the King. After the given time, when the flowers of the Spring begin to bloom, you may go on your way, and I will go on mine.” 

He frowns at you. “What will happen in that time?”

You shrug, watching the villagers scurry about, preparing food and decorations for your wedding. “I will nurse you back to health and we must maintain the state of the house and act as a married couple. There is not much else. It is the least you can repay to my father for saving your life.” 

He nods. “Keep going.” 

You lean down to write down the final term. “Term 4. You will speak to no one of this truth, and this contract will stay within the walls of this house and be known by the parties present: you, myself, and my father.” 

He sighs, eyebrows furrowed as he stares at the contract. “You misspelled ‘myself’” he mutters. 

You stare up in shock. “You know how to read?” 

He seems to be surprised at your question. “Yes?” 

You straighten up. “Well, if you know how to read, then you must be from an affluent family. Ever the more reason to continue to try and regain your memories.” 

“And you?” 

You still, pausing at his question. There was no way he would understand what you’ve been through, why you were here now. You clear your throat, “I-I just picked it up. It’s a skill that I needed to learn to survive.” 

He doesn’t reply, and so you clear your throat again, turning the contract towards him. “Do you agree to these terms?” 

He surveys the script for a bit longer, and then nods. “I agree to these terms.” He dips his thumb in the ink and presses it down into the paper, and then takes the brush to write neatly on the bottom next to yours. 

Jungkook. 

The marriage ensues quickly, your surprised villagers preparing a last minute celebration of sorts. You borrow the matrimonial robes from your neighbor, Jisoo, who was wedded last week and has yet to return it to her lender, and Jungkook is able to borrow the matching set. 

In order to meet the deadline, your town decides to skip all the formalities and boil down the ceremony to just a fraction of the normal festivities. The matchmaker has put on his officiator’s clothes for the final time, and asks you the question. “Do you, y/n of this town, agree to marry and cherish this man, Jungkook, for the rest of your life, through sickness and in health?” 

You meet the eyes of Jungkook. He’s cleaned up quite nicely, your father helping him bandage up his wounds better and washing himself so he’s no longer caked in dirt and dried blood. His hair is re-tied into the tall bun on his head and the ceremonial silk hat placed on his head, adorned with beautiful beads. His robes are a beautiful royal blue. 

You weren’t really a liar. You were known to say it as it is. Your mouth had gotten you in quite a lot of trouble growing up. But this is the one time you knew you had to life. In order to survive. You would not cherish this man. You didn’t even know him. It would only be a marriage of a year. 

“I do.” You reply. 

The matchmaker smiles. “And do you, Jungkook,” he declares, turning, “take y/n, agree to marry and cherish this woman for the rest of your life, through sickness and in health?” 

He watches you, dressed in bright, red silk robes traditional for a bride and hair pulled into a large updo and adorned with a traditional wedding headpiece. “I do.” He states. 

Everyone erupts in cheers, your father being the loudest of them all. The matchmaker declares, “Then, with the power vested in me, I declare that Y/n and Jungkook are now married! Our city has completed the decree!” 

The villagers burst into music and dancing, women ushering forward with plates of food that they’d just cooked, and the fattest pig’s meat was brought forward with jugs of rice wine to share. You and Jungkook left the premises to change out of your clothes, in order to not get them dirty. 

Jisoo helps you undress and get into your regular clothes. “Jungkook is quite handsome, don’t you think?” She smiles, folding the silk neatly into its box. “You’ve found quite a fiancee.” 

You smile weakly, tying the knot in your shirt. 

“He doesn’t talk much, though, does he?” She ponders aloud, helping you get the pins and the headdress out of your hair. “I love that Eunwoo is a talker. He’s quite expressive, which matches me.”

You hum, erasing the makeup off your face. “Yes, you and your match are quite the pair. You got lucky, Jisoo.” 

She blushes, sighing dreamily. “I still can’t believe I was matched with him. He’s amazing.” 

You chuckle. “I’m sure he thinks the same of you.” 

You catch your gaze in the mirror. The day was full of events, but your face looks haggard and sad. You wonder if you’d ever be able to find someone who thinks so of you. 

Jisoo cherps up. “Oh right, during your wedding, I don’t know if you heard, but there was an official announcement that the Crown Prince Jeon has died.” 

You perk up at the news. “What? Wasn’t he the one who decreed this whole marriage law?” 

She nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, seems like it was a political move to try and increase the population. Quite a move, in my opinion. He would’ve made a fine king. But there are rumors he was assassinated.” 

Frowning, you help her pack up the dress. “The royals are never the type to ever care about people like us. Whether the Crown Prince took the throne or his little brother, it doesn’t matter. They would never make things better for us.” 

Jisoo shrugs. “You never know.” 

When she leaves the room, you think to yourself. If the Crown Prince was the one who’d decreed the nationwide marriage law, and if he was now suddenly dead, there was a chance that the law would be appealed. 

When you and Jungkook get a moment alone, you pull him aside where no one is listening. “We need to think of a plan.” 

He pulls his arm out from where you hold him. “Don’t touch me, how dare you place your hands on me?” You roll your eyes, ignoring his haughty language. “If anyone asks you, we met at the field where the yellow flowers bloom. It was there that you fell in love with me, and asked for my hand in marriage a few years ago. Until now, you were deployed far away as a warrior, and now have returned due to your injuries in battle. That is the story that you must tell the villagers until this is over. Am I clear?” 

He huffs, crossing his arms. “Fine.” 

You frown at him. “What is wrong now?” 

He turns from you. “I wanted to keep those clothes on,” he murmurs, and you frown and tip your ear closer to him. “What?” 

“I wanted to keep the robes on,” he mutters, and you follow his gaze to where Jisoo and Eunwoo return the ceremonial robes back to the kind vendor who’d lent it to them. 

You scoff. “Why? They’re ceremonial robes.” 

“They were quite comfortable. I hate these scratchy clothes your father has put me in.” You finally take a step back to look at him. You giggle. You recognize the outfit, it was one your father had worn years ago and had gotten to fat to fit in anymore. The hemp fits neatly on Jungkook’s shoulders, but he cringes as the scratchy and stiff fabric rubs against his skin. 

You roll your eyes, slapping him. “Don’t be a little baby.” His eyes widen at your actions. “How dare you!” He bellows, “Never put your hands on me, woman!” 

You narrow your eyes at him. “So you are from a rich family, huh? You know how to read, you prefer silk clothing, and you talk like a spoiled little brat. Well, look, Jungkook. Here in the village, we work with the sweat on our backs to make money, and with that money we buy food. Hear that? Food. We don’t go around, and waste our money on things like silk. Instead, we walk into the forest, gather heaploads of grass and weave them together to create this fabric. And only after that’s finished, we sew them together by hand, and wear it for years. Do you understand?!” 

Your voice has gotten quite loud in the rant, and his eyes widen and he seems to shrink a little under your anger. 

Huffing at him, you jam a finger into his chest. “And finally, you never, ever call a lady ‘woman’! That is the language of those rich swines who treat others below them like trash. Here in this village, you treat others with respect, and kindness. I’m not sure if you learned that in your previous cushy lifestyle, but it’s something you need to learn to survive here. Got it? Or else, I’ll kill you, and kill myself after!” 

His eyes go impossibly wide at the last statement and he cowers from you, neck shrinking into his shoulders as he stutters. “O-o-okay, no need to get violent. Jeez.” 

You toss your neck, marching away towards the festivities, smiling. This was going to be a piece of cake. 

Settling into your new home is easy. Your villagers help to build a new section on your square of land, in order to create a private separate section for you and Jungkook. Although he seems complains through most of it, he helps you, your father, and the rest of the villagers plummage through the forest for wood and timber, and carries it back all the way and helps the rest of the men build the structures. 

The room that is eventually built is large enough to house the both of you comfortably, and the ladies in your town had graciously gifted you a set of beautiful blankets for you to share. 

You and Jungkook stare down at the set of blankets neatly laid down with two pillows, side by side. 

“There is absolutely no way that I will sleep in the same bed as you,” he declares. “I will take the new blankets. You may sleep in that corner as to not collect suspicion from the villagers regarding our marriage.

You gape at him. “Seriously? You’re saying that I should sleep on the cold, hard floor while you get the cushy new blankets? A man should be offering the better position to the woman!” 

He frowns at you. “You are to me neither a wife nor a woman. It is only through our agreement that you are somewhat a partner to me, and nowhere in the contract is it states that I must betray my comfort for your convenience.” 

You roll your eyes, and you argue back and forth until you’re about to rip your hair out. 

“Ugh, fine!” You yell, throwing open the closet doors as you fish out your old blankets. You throw them in the corner, and settle in them as you see Jungkook happily skip over to his set and pull the covers all the way up to his chest with a content smile. 

Despite the villagers’ generosity and their help with everything, the extra mouth that you need to feed begins to take a toll on you and your father’s expenses after a few weeks. Before the wedding, you had been making just enough to feed yourself and your father. You’d run odd jobs, such as deliveries or serving food at a local restaurant while your father worked as a carpenter. But Jungkook ate and ate and ate. 

You and your father watch in disgust as Jungkook gobbles down the entire plate of food you’d prepared in minutes. Initially, you’d fought about the food, too. 

“What is this?!” He exclaims, holding up the fish you’d cooked with his chopsticks in disgust, “This tiny monstrosity?! I’ve never even seen a fish this small!” 

You’re unimpressed as you continue to shovel the plain rice that you’d made today into your mouth. “Shut up and eat what you’re given,” you mutter. But he doesn’t stop. 

“I demand that you bring me meat. Like from the wedding! Little did I know that you people eat these insect-looking despicable dishes, if I knew, I would not have agreed!” He continues to rant until you’re fed up too. 

You grab your chopsticks, whipping them up and snatching the fish from his. In one mouthful, the fish is shoved into your own mouth and gulped down. He watches you in shock. You snatch his bowl of rice as well, emptying it into your mouth as you chew loudly and quickly, washing it down with a cup of water. After you swallow, you burp loudly, and smile at him. 

“If you don’t want to eat it, then don’t!” You drop the smile and clear the dishes, throwing them in the sink. 

“What about my dinner?!” He cries, “I just spent the whole day lugging heavy wood on my back, and this is what I’m given?!” 

You sneer back, “Then learn to eat what’s given, Jungkook!” 

After that fiasco, he’d never complained about your food again. But now the problem was, he ate too much. 

“May I have one more?” He says, holding his empty bowl out to you, and you gawk at him. 

“That’s your third bowl, Jungkook. We don’t have any more.” 

He frowns, swallowing his food and pouting. “I want more food, though.” 

You roll your eyes. “If you’re going to eat so much, then get a job! We need to continue to pay rent and you sitting around here all day is doing nothing!” 

He shakes his head. “I refuse. Although I can’t remember much, what I do remember is that I have never been forced to do any sort of labor. And that won’t change now either.” 

You face him with a sly look. “If you don’t work, then I won’t make you food. It’s simple.” 

He drops the haughty expression. “Fine. What can I do?” 

You start off with the easy stuff. Eunwoo gets Jungkook a job as a water carrier for the town. They had to climb the mountains afoot with a yoke centered on their shoulders, either side hung with a heavy clay pot that was to be filled with the clean upstream river water and then returned to the towns people. 

Jungkook pants and huffs as he climbs the hills. He feels the burn in his thighs, but he grits his teeth at the thought of being able to eat some more good food. He’d admit, although the ingredients that you worked with were less than amazing, the way you’d learned to pair them with specific vegetables that you grew personally in the yard or with spices that you’d created yourself had created in him quite an appetite for the food that you made. 

He follows in Eunwoo’s footsteps as the road gets less steep and they pause to take a breather. Eunwoo wipes his sweat with a smile. 

Jungkook mutters, “How are you so happy all the time?” 

Eunwoo leans on a rock as he passes his smaller jug of water over to Jungkook. “How can I be unhappy? I have a beautiful wife, a house to live in, and a series of jobs that bring in enough money for me to be fed. What more should I desire?” He turns to Jungkook. 

Jungkook silently hands over the jug. “Wouldn’t you want a bigger house, some better clothes, or to move into a town that’s better than this one?” 

Eunwoo laughs. “I suppose for someone like you who’s been to the military as a warrior, you were paid quite nicely and given great amenities, but I was born humble and plan to die humble. Jisoo is one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever been granted as a man, and I plan to live fruitfully and responsibly so that I may provide for her and treat her as she deserves to be treated.” 

Jungkook follows Eunwoo’s suit as he stands and picks up the jugs again on his shoulders. Do I feel that way about y/n? Is it wrong that I don’t have any of that for myself towards her? 

His thoughts are cut off when Eunwoo calls out, “We’re almost there! Just ahead, you can hear the brook!” 

Jungkook almost jumps for joy when he arrives at the riverbed, the brook babbling brightly as the clear water streams downhill. He and Eunwoo laugh as they use the cold, fresh water to clean off their hands and faces of sweat, and begin filling their jugs with the water. The creek is beautiful; there are trees overcast that slightly give some shade, while still giving way to the bright blue sky overhead. There are a few birds that chitter and jump from tree to tree while Jungkook and Eunwoo take a breather. There are some beautiful yellow flowers that stud the other bank across the river. Jungkook wonders if maybe that may lead to the yellow flower fields where you’d told him to say you two met. 

Both of them grunt as they feel the weight of the water weighing down on their shoulders, but don’t say a word as they begin the trek down the mountain. 

Suddenly, Eunwoo pauses, and Jungkook stops. “What’s wrong?” He asks, and Eunwoo tips his head as he looks around, listening for sounds. “Wait a second, someone is coming.” 

Like clockwork, Jungkook suddenly hears the distant sound of horses galloping, and they continue toward the sound until they can hear the small group of officials approaching them. 

“Halt!” One of them calls, and when he dismounts from his horse, Jungkook can see that it was the official that had once threatened you a few weeks back, before the wedding. 

“Oh, Jungkook, I see!” The official recognizes, and Jungkook dismounts the jugs from his shoulders to face the official. “I see you’re now a married man, and working hard to provide for the missus at home, yes?” 

Jungkook nods solemnly. 

“Well, we are just checking the premises for intruders. We’ve heard that there have been some muggings in the vicinity, so be on your merry way. Just be careful.” The official smiles and gets on his horse, signaling for the others to follow. As they gallop off, Jungkook narrows his eyes at the emblem engraved on the base of the official’s sword. 

Suddenly, he feels a sharp pain in his head. 

A rustle sounds from near him, and then a shout, and then aching pain in his shoulder. A sword is pointed at him, and he is able to just catch the emblem engraved on the hilt before it’s raised high and whipping towards him.

The flashback ends and Jungkook yells out a strangled cry as he falls towards the ground. 

Eunwoo takes off his yoke and runs back towards Jungkook, shocked and yelling, “Jungkook! Jungkook! Are you alright? Can you hear me?! Jungkook!” 

Jungkook can only see a glimpse of the blue sky above him before everything goes black. 

You’re at home, weaving some baskets as a job from the lady at the market when suddenly you hear distant shouts and galloping. Frowning, you drop the basket and make your way over to the gate of your house, peering over the wood to see what the commotion is all about. But the sound continues to approach, and to your surprise, you see government officials approaching with Jungkook on the back of a horse. 

Eyes widening, you throw open your gate and walk up to the official whom you recognize to be the one who’d dealt with you before. 

He gets off his horse, and Eunwoo dismounts another as they both carry Jungkook into your home. 

“What’s wrong?! What’s wrong with him?!” You cry, and Eunwoo looks at you worriedly. “I don’t know! We were carrying water back to the village when suddenly he starting screaming and then fell to the ground unconscious! Thankfully the officials were nearby when he did, so they were able to bring us back.” 

There’s a crowd of people waiting in your gate entrance, trying to peek at what’s going on. You turn to the official. 

He eyes you, “I remember you. I see that you’ve followed the law and gotten married. I’m sorry that I had to bring your husband in like this. My name is Jimin.” 

You shake your head. “It’s fine, what’s wrong?” 

Jimin shrugs. “I believe that it may be an affect of overwork? I’m not sure. You may need to consult a doctor if he doesn’t wake up soon.” 

You scoff, “He hasn’t worked before! How can it be of overwork?!” 

He shrugs again. “It is up to you, madame, but please do keep in mind that the jugs he was using were broken when he fell, and so you know owe the town money to make up for the loss.”

Your shoulders sag at the comment as the official rides away with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I’m just doing my job.” 

You nod at him, smiling weakly. “I understand. Thank you, sir.” 

He tips his hat to you, and before he rides away says, “You know, I’ve never met someone like you before. You remind me a lot of someone I used to know. I believe you and your husband will get through this. Good luck.” 

He rides off and you return to your room as the rest of the villagers disperse. Sighing, you sit next to Jungkook’s sleeping figure and check his pulse and put your finger under his nose to make sure he’s still breathing. Although his wounds from before had healed, he had another fresh scratch on his cheek now, you assume from the fall. 

Blinking back tears, you find some clean rags and begin cleaning the cut, gently placing a bandage on it. 

There was no god. There was no such thing as luck. You had just nearly escaped death by marrying a man you didn’t even know, and now you were in more debt than ever. This wasn’t easy at all. You wipe away tears of frustration as you watch Jungkook sleep, and eventually the exhaustion from the day becomes too much as you close your eyes too. 

Jungkook wakes up to a dark room, and a searing pain in behind his eyes. Wincing, he groans as he turns his head to the side, and stops when he sees you curled up next to him on the cold floor. You have one arm tucked underneath your head and your knees are curled up towards your chest in a form of warmth. He glances to your side to see that the first aid kit of bandages had been opened and a bowl of water and rags for his forehead. 

He turns to his side, the headache a little duller as he focuses on your features. You were quite beautiful, he thinks to himself. Not a traditional, eye-catching beauty like Jisoo’s, but a simple kind of beauty that shone through in moments like these. 

Now that you’re sleeping and not frowning or yelling at him, he sees that your eyes are quite soft, your brows framing them nicely and your skin quite smooth. Your lips soft-looking and your cheeks quite supple. You were quite cute, he thinks to himself with a slight smile. 

You seem to be having nightmares, as you suddenly shudder in your sleep and frown, a deep line setting in between your brows. He reaches out, pressing a thumb lightly to the space, and immediately, your expression softens, as you subconsciously inch closer for some warmth. He takes the blanket that’s placed over him and throws it over you, and faces you as you curl into the warmth. 

He reaches out a hand and tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear. The headache no longer bothers him anymore. 

You wake up to the sounds of the rooster crowing and some kind of weight on your chest. When you open your eyes, the first thing you see is the face of Jungkook, and the second thing you notice is that you’re only inches away from him, his arm thrown over your shoulders as you’re cuddled up to his torso. 

With a yelp, you jump back, and that seems to wake him up. “What are you doing?!” You yell, covering your chest with your arms. “Why are we sleeping together?!” 

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and faces you with a funny expression. “You’re the one who fell asleep here next to me.” 

You frown, reaching out a putting a hand on his forehead. He slaps it away and you recoil with an eyeroll. “Are you feeling okay?” You ask, looking into his eyes to make sure he’s okay. 

He frowns. “Why am I here?” 

You sigh, leaning back against the wall. “You fell, remember? You fainted while carrying back jugs of water.” 

He frowns again, hands raking over his face. “Yes, I think I remember now...” 

You scoff. “Did you do it on purpose?” 

He turns towards you with an incredulous look. “Excuse me?” 

Crossing your arms, you face him with a hard look. “You’ve been complaining about labor ever since the day we got married. Don’t think for a second that I believe you actually passed out up there. You were fine when carrying down wood for the house. Why did you suddenly faint? You pretended so that you wouldn’t have to work, right?!” 

He faces you with wide eyes that have a tinge of anger. You’ve never seen him with that expression before. “How dare you accuse me of pretending to faint! I had a sudden headache and then I felt myself lose balance, how could you--” 

“Oh, you felt yourself lose balance? Huh?” You mock him, “Well look where it’s gotten us. You may have spent the whole day resting, but you’ve gotten us twenty more nyangs in debt than we already are, especially since you’ve already wasted all our savings on your goddamned food!” 

You stand, gathering the first aid kit and the bowl of water. Glaring back at him, you mutter, “I should have just died back then,” and slam the door shut behind you. Jungkook sighs, raking his hand over his face. 

First it was the random memory, and then now, this. It was far from over. 

For the next few days, Jungkook can’t seem to find you. You’ve completely disappeared, and no matter who he asks, he can’t seem to figure out where you’ve gone. Even your father is as confused as he is. 

Jungkook mutters to himself as he tries his best to figure out how the stove works, as it seems your father has no idea either. This week had been particularly tough, as Jungkook had to figure out when to water the plants, go get the water from the stream again with Eunwoo, clean the stables, retreive eggs from the chickens without getting his eyes clawed out, and prepare meals for himself and your father in the meantime. His back hurt like crazy, and he’d also almost gotten kicked in the arm earlier by accidentally trying to milk a male cow. He was absolutely at his wits’ end. 

Eunwoo stops by with a sheepish smile. “Jisoo offered to prepare you some fried cakes, would you like some?” Jungkook graciously accepts and Eunwoo sits next to your father as Jungkook continues muttering to himself, trying to put more kindling into the fire underneath the iron stove and poking it with a stick. “Just wait a little longer friend,” Eunwoo calls out, “Jisoo is returning soon from the market and said she’d stop by.” 

Finally, she arrives, with a big smile on her face and a package of some sorts. She greets her husband with a shy kiss. Jungkook watches as they giggle into the kiss, before Jisoo breaks apart and bounds over to Jungkook and revealing what she has. Jungkook almost falls into the fire when he sees what she’s holding. 

“Oh my! Get that out of my face!” He cries, falling backward and scrambling away from the thing. 

She frowns, “But Jungkook, you’ve been asking for fish ever since you got here. I found some fresh bass for you, for a great price at the market! We can finally have some good fish tonight!” 

Jungkook frowns at the slimy thing. It’s still alive, gills gaping for air as its eyes bulge ugly out its head and its tail still squirming about. He squeezes his eyes shut and holds back a gag. “I think I’m gonna be sick,” he wheezes. 

Jisoo rolls her eyes. “Can you prepare it so that I can cook it? Usually the men do that here.” 

Jungkook shakes his head no, and Eunwoo sighs, standing up and approaching them. “Here, let me help,” he says, crouching down next to the both of them and demonstrating as he retreives the kitchen knife from the counter, the same knife Jungkook had spent the entire afternoon looking for. 

He smiles at Jungkook, ever still the innocent one. “First, you have to kill it the most painless way possible, while removing the blood. You take the blade, place it under here, where the neck meets the body, and---” 

The moment Eunwoo slices the fish, Jungkook passes out again. 

“Jungkook, Jungkook!” Jisoo shakes him awake, sighing at his form. “You fainted again. But in the meantime, Eunwoo and I prepared some food for you. Hopefully you’re okay with seeing fish in an edible form. Come eat.” 

Jungkook joins them on the table and carefully lifts the table cover, sighing in relief when instead of a live fish, he sees Jisoo’s carefully cooked dinner waiting for him to eat. “Oh thank god,” he mutters, picking up his chopsticks. He happily thanks her, digging in and smiling at the taste. 

One thing he notes, is that Jisoo tends to oversalt her fish. He thinks to himself that he quite misses your cooking. 

“So Jisoo, what brings you here?” He asks, and she looks up at him with a confused expression. 

“Y/n asked me to cook you guys a meal or two while she was gone. She didn’t tell you?” 

Jungkook frowns. “I have no idea where she’s gone. I thought she’d run away because she didn’t want to have me for a husband.” 

Jisoo laughs. “No, she’ll be back. She didn’t tell me what she was doing, but she often disappears once every month for a couple days. In fact, I think that’s her coming!” 

She stands and all the men’s eyes follow as Jisoo runs to the gate, and you return, dressed in the most beautiful gown Jungkook has ever seen you in. 

It’s a beautiful soft pink, adorned with flowers and he watches you in awe as you put on a big smile and throw your arms around Jisoo in greeting. You greet your father, and when you meet his eyes, Jungkook perks up, putting on a tiny smile as he expects you to return the smile. 

But instead, you frown and just greet Eunwoo, ignoring Jungkook as you stalk back out of the gate. Jungkook jumps up, running over to follow you. 

“Where have you been!” He demands, grabbing your arm and turning you to face him. He’s breathing heavily, and his brows are furrowed as he continues to yell. “What kind of a wife leaves her husband for days without telling him where she’s gone! Did you know how worr--” He cuts himself off, blinking at his own words. 

You frown at him. “You were worried?” You cock your head at him, and he clears his throat. 

“No,” he blurts, glaring at nothing in particular. “It made me very.....uncomfortable.” 

You roll your eyes, yanking your arm out of his grip. “You make me quite uncomfortable too, got that? Because of your stupidity, I had to go work on a job for a few days to earn enough money to pay off those jugs that you broke, and made a little more to feed us for the next couple of days.” 

He frowns, “Why would you do that?” 

You give him a scoff. “Seriously? Of course I have to do this, you don’t want to work, my father isn’t making any money right now, and we’re in debt. What do you mean why?” 

“I thought you’d left me,” he says, blinking up at you and instead of the angry expression he was sporting earlier, he seems a bit softer now, a bit poutier even. 

You sigh, “Unfortunately, I can’t just up and leave because we have a contract to uphold.” 

He tugs at your skirt. “Where did you get these nice clothes?” 

Turning, you give him a smile, and Jungkook has to keep himself from smiling back. “Aren’t these beautiful? They were a gift!” 

He frowns. “A gift? From who?” 

“The general.” 

Jungkook’s fist tightens. “The general? You mean the man who you refused to marry? The work you did was for him?” 

You purse your lips. “I know how it sounds, but despite the obvious pervertedness, he still has quite an influence on our town and the only way to make enough money to cover the jugs that you broke was to help serve food at his birthday celebration.” 

Jungkook grits his teeth. “Is that why you’re wearing makeup?” 

You’re shocked that he noticed. Earlier today, one of the other waitresses that you’d been working with had offered the girls some of her own blush and lipstick, saying that when you wore some color, the officials were more likely to give bigger tips. And she was right. You’d earned enough to feed your family for a month and to cover Jungkook’s mistake. 

Shrugging, you nod. “Yes?” 

The angry expression sets in his features again. “You shall not wear makeup for that man again. This is an order.” 

You laugh at his words. “What? Are you seriously ordering me around? Why, are you jealous or something?” 

He frowns. “If these emotions running through me right now are called being ‘jealous,’ then so be it. I hate the thought of that man looking at you with makeup on and a beautiful dress and giving you money thinking that it might be a way for him to get his disgusting hands on you. You are my wife!” 

You’re shocked at his outburst, your mind completely going blank. You do what you do best, which is to bark back a retort. “Well, I wouldn’t have had to do this if it weren’t for you--” 

Jungkook leans in, cutting you off with a searing kiss. He does’t quite remember if he’s had any experience with any other women, but his body seems to recognize this. He just didn’t know how else to shut you up. He holds your waist close as he leans into you, your smell enveloping his senses as he opens his mouth to slot his lips in between yours. 

You fall silent, eyes wide as he steps closer and his tongue flicks against your lower lip quickly before he detaches from you. He first smirks at your shocked expression, and presses his lips together. “Mm,” he comments, “tastes sweet.” At your horrified expression, he leans in to wipe the corner of your mouth, successfully erasing the remnants of the color left on your lips. 

“There we go,” he quips. And leans back. When you take a breath to yell out whatever curses there are in the world at him, he stops you and goes first. 

“We may be in a contract marriage, but Term 3 clearly states that we must uphold the appearances in order to look like a married couple. You shouldn’t act like you’re single in front of that pervert in order to make up for my mistakes. For what you did I’m grateful, and I owe you a debt, but in the future, I’d like it if you would not submit yourself to those things. You are above those things.” 

You watch him silently as he continues. “Let me find out what kind of work I can do. I do not want you to be hurt anymore or have to worry about money again. I will uphold my part of the agreement.” 

He turns and walks back into the house as you watch in shock. 

You press a hand to your chest. What was this fluttering feeling for? 

Spring fades into summer as the two of you continue on living. Jungkook continues to work odd jobs here and there, and manages to make enough money to support the three of you comfortably. You’re able to start patching up the holes in the roof and the stables, and buy new clothes for yourself and Jungkook to wear comfortably. You two never speak of the kiss again, but you find that the both of you settle into a comfortable pattern of life and work. 

Towards the end of the season when the days seem to start getting cooler, one of the marketplace workers notices how hard Jungkook works, and offers him a job at the local bookstore. You and Jungkook squeal in delight at the amount that he’s making, and later to more delight, discover that he can also make much, much more transcribing books by hand for the local bookstore. So in the mornings, Jungkook goes and helps as a bookkeeper, and returns later in the afternoon to eat his dinner and the both of you work on transcribing books together. 

He teaches you to write better. Ever since you’d run away from home as a little girl, life in the village didn’t really grant you a lot of experience to continue practicing your writing. It was good, but not great. So night after night, Jungkook patiently watches you painstakingly use the brush to transcribe the stories that were the most popular. 

Together, you’d begun from novels about dragons and fairies, and when the vendor was quite pleased with how neatly the books were written, you and Jungkook were given more tasks to do, including transcribing some political and economic books. 

As the months passed, this became sort of a routine, as you’d begun using the money now to buy better ingredients for the meals you made for him at the market. Your home had now been patched up and upgraded as best as you could, and you’d bought a few more chickens and had gifted your father a new set of clothes and warm blankets. Jungkook seemed content with his now more comfortable set of new clothes and the hefty meals you prepared. Life was beginning to settle and improve. 

Jungkook frowns as he transcribes one night, “Hm,” he muses, “The King has decreed that his next youngest son shall be the next King.” 

You scoot closer to him to read what he’s looking at. You hum, “Interesting, I wonder if that will improve anything.” 

He looks at you, “What do you mean?” 

You shrug, resuming your own transcription. “Whenever the royals shuffle amongst themselves, or the generals and officials fight for the throne, it doesn’t really seem to affect us or benefit us.” 

Jungkook frowns, staring down at the announcement he was asked to reproduce. “I read in the political books I transcribed that the morals that this country was founded upon were that the King and the government must be of the people, for the people.” 

Sighing, you stare down at the political text you’d been copying. It spoke of the same values. “I know. It would be nice if we could return to a time like that, no? But unfortunately, while people like us are struggling to make ends meet and jumping for joy at the opportunity to patch up our roof, there are the royals who sit on their throne and are planning what their next party will be like, or what country they want to conquer. We are of different worlds, and it has been ages since we’ve had a King who truly cares for the people.”

Jungkook sighs. “If I were King, I would immediately do away with those stupid parties. And those disgusting men who sit in their positions without doing anything.” 

You smile at him, “Like that pig who has six concubines?”

He laughs, “Exactly like him.” You laugh back, and Jungkook has to pause for a second, as he catches himself staring at your expression in the candlelight. 

But you see him before he can stop himself, and you ask, “What, is there something on my face?” 

Jungkook sets down his brush. “You’re quite beautiful when you smile. Why don’t you do that more often?” 

Your smile falls as you coldly return to your transcription. Jungkook curses himself for asking you a question that removed the smile from your face. He also silently returns to his work, unsure of what to say next. 

“I’m not my father’s daughter, you know.” 

Jungkook’s hand pauses in his calligraphy, but he doesn’t say anything and just looks up at you as you continue in your own writing. You don’t look up to him and continue speaking. 

“I had to run, far, far away from my real home. My parents were murdered by some people, and my brother and I hid in the forest until the men were gone. I was supposed to meet my brother on the bridge near the river, but he never came back to get me.” 

“So I ran, far away, where they can’t find me and where they gave up trying to look for me. I eventually swam down the river and was found by my father, now. And even though I return to that bridge secretly every month when the moon is at its fullest, he’s never shown for the past twenty years. Although life has gotten a little better with you, I can’t say that my life was a good one, nor will it be. I’ll always be an orphan and I’ll always be the one who lost her family. So it seems that more often than not I find myself feeling sad sometimes.” 

You feel a tear roll down your cheek. It’s been a while since you shared that with anyone. The only ones being your own father and Jisoo. Suddenly, you hear him arise from his seated position near you and in moments he’s gripping you close, cradling your head close to his chest as he hugs you. 

“Don’t cry,” he murmurs, and you feel it within his chest. The warmth is comforting, and you lift your hands to settle on his broad back. “Why do you say that you have no family? I read in a poem I transcribed that family is not defined by bloodlines nor wealth, but in the love and care we have for eachother. Your father loves you, and so do Jisoo and Eunwoo. And I am your family as well.” 

Your tears fall a little faster at that. A dull ache beats in the pit of your chest as he continues. “I am your husband. Jisoo and Eunwoo are our friends. Your father is my father-in-law. We are a family.” 

You sob louder in his arms and he murmurs more sweet words as he rocks you and shushes you. But the reason why you cry isn’t because he’s healing all your wounds, but because he’s healing your wounds with promises you know he can’t keep. 

He was your husband for only one year, and it’s already passed a few months, into the Autumn, which meant that its been halfway. He had no idea when he would regain his memories back, or who he was. For all you knew, he could be a general’s son, destined to go into glorious battles and lead his troops into war for the sake of the country. Or he could be a son of someone who works in the Castle, or a royal even. 

Anywho, whichever house he belonged to, it would be millions of times better than now, and you knew that he would leave without even a glance back. It was in anyone’s nature. 

So as he continues to make promises, you let him hold you a little longer, because you know that this will all come to an end someday. You apologize to whatever god is out there. You’d never been selfish. You’d always worked hard to feed and fend for your family. 

So you make one, single, selfish wish. 

I wish I could stay like this forever, and that he won’t leave me. 

Before the autumn ends, Jungkook returns one day with a tree.

“What the heck?!” You cry, as him and Eunwoo grunt with the effort of carrying the thing off the truck and burying it into the entrance of your home. “What are you doing?!”

Jungkook smiles, shoveling the dirt back into the roots. “I bought us a tree.”

You put your hands on your hips. “I can see that, but why?!”

He laughs, leaning on the shovel and laughing boyishly at you. “Look!”

He points up and although most of the branches have succumbed to the autumn weather and turned their leaves red and orange and yellow, you can see the buds of the flowers peeking through. Yellow flowers.

“Remember?” Jungkook says, wiping the sweat off his brow, “We met here, in the fields of yellow flowers.” He wiggles his brows at you.

Your heart sinks at the memory of the lie you’d told him to recite to others.

“Why?” You ask softly.

He softens at your expression approaching you and rubbing your arms. “Oh, don’t be sad. It was just so beautiful I wanted to put it here. I thought you’d like it. It’s our little inside secret.”

You blink away the tears. Why was he so kind? It made it harder to distinguish what was real and what wasn’t. 

Jungkook’s heart sinks when he sees you go back into the house with slumped shoulders. He really thought you would like it.

You did like it. You loved it. That was the problem. 

You’d counted the months that had passed since your agreement, and it had been more than half a year. That quickly, life had become so adjusted to having Jungkook around, you didn’t know how to distinguish what was real or not. 

But deep down, you knew that the pang in your chest everytime he smiled at you, or the worrying feeling deep in your gut everytime he arrived home late all indicated that you indeed had developed a deep sense of...emotion for your husband. 

You were just too scared to admit it was love. 

Because for you, everytime you had fallen in love or let yourself feel love, those people or things had been taken away from you. Your only wish was that Jungkook wouldn’t be taken away. But that in itself was quite the selfish wish. He really could have been betrothed to someone out there, and there might be a woman like you, waiting for her husband to return home achingly. 

You would never wish that upon someone. 

But you can’t ignore the pain that settles in your heart when you imagine Jungkook returning home to any other woman besides yourself.

Later that week, Jungkook is taking his daily walk to the bookstore, when he pauses at the sight of a woman putting out her daily goods. She seems to own a female’s clothing store, and in the front of her display, she proudly puts a series of colorful shoes that catch his eye.

He approaches the stall, and the kind lady greets him with a smile. “Looking for a present for your wife?”

He nods, “Yes. I don’t know her taste, however.”

She laughs, “My dear, you don’t know a thing about women. It isn’t what you’re buying her. It’s that you’re buying something for her at all. Tell me a little about her.”

He muses, folding his hands behind his back. “Well, she’s about yeh tall, and seems to be a healthy weight. She always has her hair up in a--”

The lady laughs again. “No, not her features. Her personality. Tell me about her.”

Jungkook pauses, blinking down at his feet as he thinks.

“Well, first, she’s very strong. Not as in she can lift heavy things, because she can’t. I know, because she asks me to do them for her and I like doing them. But she’s strong in that I’ve never met anyone else who is as confident and fearless as she is. When I first met her, she was literally staring into the eyes of her own death without blinking. I admire that. She has no fear.”

“She’s also really kind. Underneath that fearlessness, she’s very attentive. She notices what I like to eat and don’t like to eat, and sometimes when I come home in a bad mood, she’ll do her best to prepare me a nice warm bath and extra servings of food.”

“And she’s also very delicate. She may hate to think that, but I love that underneath that hard shell, is a soft inner shell that’s kind and soft and pure. I love seeing glimpses of that while living as her husband.”

Jungkook looks up at the woman as he finishes. She has a knowing smile on her face.

“Well, dear, looks like we have a man here who’s desperately in love with his wife. For you, I’d recommend these.”

She points towards a pair of beautiful pink slippers, adorned with drawings of cherry blossoms and threaded with deep maroon thread that seemed to glisten in the sun. He smiles. They would look perfect on you.

“How much?” He asks.

She laughs, putting the shoes in a package for him. “I usually try to charge a bit more in order to make some money off of the sale, but I bought these for 10 nyangs, so I only ask for 10.”

He frowns, “Are you sure ma’am? You’d be making no profit...”

She smiles, handing over the package to him. “I’m sure. You remind me of me and my husband. That’s true love right there.”

Jungkook hands over the money with a solemn expression. “True love?”

She smiles. “Yes, dear. The kind of love that makes you fearless, the kind of selfless love. A love that you would die for. You seem young so you might be of the generation that had to marry on such short notice, but I can tell by the way you talk about her that you care for her very deeply. Only men who love their wives can talk like that. I’m happy for you. Now go and give her those shoes.”

Jungkook stares at the shoes as he walks towards the bookstore.

True love? Was it true that he’d fallen for you? He tucks them into his pocket.

Needing to think about that conversation more, he keeps the shoes in the bookstore and returns home without the present.

Jungkook watches you light up when he enters the gates in the evening, and you smile at him, gesturing to the table of food you’d prepared. “Jungkook!” You exclaim, bounding up to him, “How was work?”

“Good,” he sighs, falling into step with you as you guide him to where you’ve prepared dinner. “I’m hungry,” he smiles.

You return the smile brightly, and unveil the meal you’d prepared. “I made the fried cakes you like, and the kimchi is seasoned just right today. And I found some fresh fish at the market today, so Jisoo and I bought two to prepare for you and Eunwoo. We figured we’d treat our husbands to something nice and fattening, so that when the winter comes, you have some meat on your bones.”

Our husband. He likes the ring of that.

He digs in, listening attentively as you tell him about the town gossip, and of what happened in your day, and he reciprocates, sharing stories of the strange customers that frequented the bookstore.

When he’s finished eating, you stand to clear away his dishes, but he stops you, smiling as he takes his own dishes to the basin. “I’ll clean, you should rest.”

You smile at him and watch as he turns to clean the dishes, stacking them neatly as he finishes them one by one. When he’s finished, he joins you on your porch, as you both lean against the house and watch the stars.

The lantern beautifully lights up the underside of the tree that he’d bought, and the stars against the beautiful night sky makes this a scene that takes his breath away.

The wind blows a bit colder tonight, and when he sees you shudder, he lets you lean against him as he curls an arm around you. The both of you fall into a comfortable silence as you watch the stars.

“What are you thinking about?” He murmurs, watching your face lit up by the warm candlelight as you watch the sky.

You have a small smile on your lips as you gaze. “Just about how happy I am right now. I really like the tree, I wish I told you earlier.”

Jungkook smiles, looking at you knowingly. “I thought you didn’t like it cause it was a waste of our money.”

You turn to him with wide eyes, “No, no, that’s not it.” You chuckle, “I like it very much, thank you.”

Jungkook lets you settle back into his warmth as you both continue to look at the stars. His eyes drift downward to the tree, which is fluttering slightly in the wind. The leaves are beginning to fall. His eyes continue to trail downward, and he rests on your feet, and how the hemp straw shoes that you wore were beginning to fall apart a bit at the sides.

He bites his lip. It was still a bit longer until the streets would close. Maybe he had a little bit of time.

He stands, holding a hand out to you, “Will you come with me somewhere?”

You take his hand, confusedly following as he makes a beeline for the gate. “Where are we going?  At this time in the evening?”

He doesn’t reply as he continues down the road towards the market, stalking quickly and determinedly towards the bookstore. Your cheeks flame at the fact that his hand is tightly wrapped around yours.

“Did you forget to bring some books back from the bookstore?” You ask, struggling to keep up, but when he arrives at the store, he faces you.

“Sit here,” he instructs, and you confusedly take a seat in front of the store as he unlocks the door and rummages around for something. “Aha!” He cries from inside, and you crane your neck to try and peer into the store, but he calls out, “close your eyes!” from inside.

You frown, yelling back, “Why?”

He yells back, “I’m not coming out until you promise to keep your eyes closed.”

You laugh a little, but reply, “Okay, fine!” And close your eyes.

You hear him peep out to check if you were telling the truth, and then after confirming that you were, indeed, closing your eyes as you’d promised, he shuffles out towards you.

You hear him kneel in front of you, and suddenly, he grips your ankle and takes your straw shoes off. Your eyes fly open in shock and you gasp. “What’re you doing?”

He looks up at you with a soft smile. “You broke the promise, you were supposed to keep your eyes shut.”

You frown at him. “What?”

He shakes his head a little, but grins up at you anyways. “Well since you have your eyes open, you can watch me do this.”

He peels open a paper package to reveal two dainty shoes, pink and made with the finest fabrics and thread. He gently places one of them on your foot. A weight settles deep into your chest at the way he smiles at you after he’s done.

“I wanted to buy you something meaningful, not something for the house or something we can both enjoy like the tree, but something specifically for you. I saw these on my way to work today.”

Your eyes fill with tears as you look down at the way the shoes adorn your feet. It’s been years since you’ve been able to wear shoes like these. And these were perfect. Too perfect.

This was beginning to become too perfect. It scared you like hell. 

The next morning, you wake Jungkook up with a solemn expression, and he’s immediately worried. He’s become quite sensitive to your mood changes and emotions, and he can tell by the way you speak or the way you make your way around the kitchen that you have something on your mind. 

As he eats, you take a deep breath, and speak. 

“I think you should go with my father today and visit the river where he found you.” 

Jungkook stops with a mouthful of rice. “What?” 

“You should try to find your memory soon. Maybe going to the river may trigger your memory to come back again.” 

He sets his soon spoon, looking at you with a heavy expression. “And then? If I find my memories again?” 

You stare down at your hands, lip trembling a bit at the next part. “We agreed that if you found your memory, we would revisit the contract’s terms. But I thought it would be a good idea for you to at least try.” 

Jungkook sighs, as he glares at the tree and how the leaves are beginning to fall and create a pile of dead color on the ground. He had just gotten into a routine, feeling more and more content about staying here with you. He’d even had a moment last night when he’d wanted to confess that he’d fallen in love with you, and that he was considering just continuing to live here with you. 

But it seems like you had different ideas. 

He clears his throat, finishing off his cup of water. “Good idea,” he grits, squaring his shoulders. If this was what you wanted, then he would do anything for you. 

He stands. “Thank you for breakfast, I think if we are to find out something today, we should leave as soon as possible. I’ll go next door and let father know that we’ll be leaving soon.” He leaves without another word, nor a look in your direction. 

The tear that had been balancing on your lashes finally falls. 

This was all for his own good. 

Jungkook and your father begin a trip with a couple more townspeople who are trekking up the mountains to obtain some more water for the coming cold season. The villagers bring along some donkeys and horses to help carry the heavy jugs, while Jungkook and his partner are empty handed. Their mission wasn’t to find water, it was to find the truth. 

As they walk up the winding path, Jungkook and your father fall behind a bit as your father begins explaining some things here and there. 

“This path we’re on,” he whispers to Jungkook, “Is the path that I brought you down from the river. We’re almost there.”

“Father,” Jungkook murmurs, “What was I wearing when you found me? And where did you keep me?” 

His father-in-law cranes his neck as he looks at the direction the rest of the villagers were heading in. “Follow me,” he whispers, and heads towards the fork in the road and begins climbing a different road than the group. Jungkook follows, stumbling over rocks and tree roots as they climb into a different side of the road into a small clearing, where Jungkook can see a tiny series of huts sits, made of straw and wood. 

His father-in-law climbs into one of them, and knocks politely on the door. 

Immediately, it opens to reveal a very old man, who greets you father with a stern smile, and then settles his gaze on Jungkook. 

“Oh, you’re alive!” The grandpa exclaims. Jungkook confusedly asks, “I’m sorry, how do we know eachother?” 

Your father pipes up. “This is the mountain healer. He’s the one who helped nurse you back to health when I found you nearby. Here, look, I even kept the clothes that you were wearing when I found you.” The grandpa holds out a package for Jungkook, and he frowns, holding it close. 

He gives the healer a deep bow. “Thank you very much, I owe you my life.” 

The healer laughs, clapping Jungkook on the back. “Seems like you’ve recovered very well. You look quite healthy and strong.” 

Your father chuckles, “Actually, elder, we’ve come to re-visit you to inquire of some questions. Jungkook here still hasn’t found his memory, and we believe that it’s because of his injury that he’s not able to remember where he’s from or even what his previous name is. Do you remember anything while you were nursing him back to health?” 

The elderly healer frowns, as he cocks his head. Jungkook takes a seat next to him, leaning in to hear what he has to say. 

“I remember not much, but I do recall that you did talk a lot in your sleep when you were healing. You would sometimes burst into incoherent yelling, or sometimes talk with a stern voice.” 

Jungkook leans in. “What did I say?” 

“I don’t recall much, but I do remember you talking about the ‘Road that Winds to the East,’ whatever that means.” 

Jungkook frowns and turns to your father. “Does that mean anything, father?” 

He frowns too, “Well there are only a few main roads here in these woods, and most of them I know by heart. Elder, may I borrow your map?” 

He retreieves it from a cabinet as your father continues to speaking. “Look, this road that we just came in from leads to the North. The only road that would go from the East and West would be this one. But there’s no way...” 

“Why?” Jungkook asks. 

“That’s the road that leads to and from the Castle and the Capitol.” 

Jungkook’s eyes widen as he stares at the road that indeed winds directly from the capitol towards the forest that he was found in. He’s about to ask the elder another question when suddenly, there’s a bit of commotion outside. 

Eunwoo barges into the hut, panting heavily as he wipes his sweat away. “Jungkook! Father! I’ve been looking for you everywhere! The group said that you’d broken off from them a bit back so I borrowed a horse and came here. You need to hurry! You need to go back!” 

Jungkook stands, frowning as he helps Eunwoo take a seat. “What’s wrong?!” 

Eunwoo stares up at Jungkook with eyes full of fear. “Y/N! She’s been taken! She’s in danger!” 

You’d spent most of the afternoon blinking and wiping away tears as you wove as many baskets as you could. But the moisture in your eyes prevented you from clearly seeing the needle you were working with, so your fingers were horribly sore and swollen by the time the sun was at its highest point. 

Sighing, you lean back and close your eyes, head heavy as you think of how Jungkook might not return today. 

Suddenly, you hear your gate being thrown open, as a group of men in dark colored, torn clothes enter your property. Immediately you stand, clenching your fists. “Who are you?!” 

The men ignore you, only one glancing your way as they begin to ransack your home, ignoring your screams. You flail and beat your fists against them as they tear open the doors of your new house, throwing the closet doors open and rustling through the clothes and blankets. Another destroys the chicken coop and another kicks the doors of your father’s place open and does the same to his belongings. 

“What are you doing!” You scream, crying as the men destroy in minutes what you and Jungkook had worked tirelessly to create and repair. “Stop! How dare you!” 

The ringleader gets tired of your screams and slaps you straight across your face. The impact and the shock makes you tumble back, hand held to the burning cheek in terror. “Shut up, bitch! We’ve gotten orders from the general officer that you and your husband owe him a debt. We’re here to collect on his orders.”

You scream back in shock. “That swine? I owe him nothing! What are you talking about?! I never borrowed anything from him!” 

One of his men emerges from your bedroom, holding up the pink dress that you and the other waitresses had been gifted after the idiot’s birthday party celebration. “Sir! Look what I found!” 

The ringleader smiles nastily down at you. “So you’re lying to me, eh? How does a poor woman like you afford a dress like this? And shoes like yours?” 

You look down at the shoes on your feet, now scuffed from the dirt when he’d hit you. “They were bought with our hard earned money! We have no fault!” You rush up to him and try to wrestle the dress out of his hands, but he’s stronger than you and grips your wrists as you struggle. Suddenly, you feel a searing pain on your back and everything goes black. 

When you come to, you panic at the feeling of your hands being immobile, and then you realize that the rest of your body is bound tightly against a tree trunk with some thick rope. 

You scream, struggling against the ropes, but the ringleader from earlier comes into your line of vision, smirking nastily as he surveys how you struggle. “We sent someone to go find your husband. Either he can bring us the money, or we can just sell you off to some hostels and get the money ourselves. It’s his choice.” 

Your eyes widen. “What?! My husband?!” 

He nods. “Hopefully he’ll come. I heard that the marriage was done last minute, but hopefully he loves you enough to know that the moment he refuses to comply to our terms, it’s over for the both of you.” 

He smiles at you, his disgusting breath fanning over your face as you glare in horror at him, “In fact,” he says, tilting his head and turning around, “here someone comes.” 

You hear it too, the sound of heavy horse steps beating the ground as you see Jungkook approaching on a horse that you’ve never seen before. You scream out as soon as he stops the animal, “No! Don’t come any closer! Run!” You struggle and wriggle against the bindings as much as you can, but the men have already surrounded the horse and your husband, and Jungkook dismounts easily, facing the men with a hard glare. 

He takes one look at you and gives you a nod as you cry and struggle against the rope, but it doesn’t give much slack. He reaches up into the saddle of the horse to pull out a long bamboo stick, and immediately lunges for one of the men. 

You watch in shock as he deftly uses the stick to go nimbly for the vulnerable parts of each man, crouching under the swing of their swords and using that moment to hit the stiff bamboo against their shins or their kneecaps, or using it to knock the air out of their lungs with a hard swing to their chest or shoulders. 

Jungkook uses a tree to jump off of as he hits a man on his head, and uses the dazed burglar as leverage to kick another in the chest. In that moment though, he stumbles to the ground, and the searing pain in his head returns again. 

A rustle sounds from near him, and then a shout, and then aching pain in his shoulder. A sword is pointed at him, and he is able to just catch the emblem engraved on the hilt before it’s raised high and whipping towards him.

It was exactly the same vision he’d had when he was getting water. But this time there was more. 

He raises his gaze and sees that the one who wields the sword has a gaze so sharp and fierce, that it takes his breath away. 

In the moment of distraction, one of the burglars manages to get his sword close enough to deliver a slice on Jungkook’s bicep. He cries out, stumbling as you scream his name, but he picks himself back up and charges towards the men.

He finishes them off one by one, and you watch in amazement and horror as your husband neatly lands on the ground with all the men groaning in pain. 

You see a movement in the corner of your eye and see that the ringleader is reaching over for his sword on the ground, and you cry, “Jungkook! Look out!” 

Jungkook turns, immediately catching sight of him and runs over, kicking the sword away and flipping it up with his feet. It lands neatly in his hand and he points the tip at the ringleader’s neck with a movement so fast you hear the sound of the sword slicing the air. Jungkook frowns. “You should probably leave, and never come back, now that I have a sword in my hands. I can do much more damage with this than I did with the bamboo stick.” 

The ringleader spits a mouthful of blood, and in seconds, him and his helpers scramble out of the woods, tail in between their legs as they limp away. 

When they’re all out of sigh, Jungkook immediately turns and runs over to you, using the sword to cut away all of the ropes. As soon as your hands are free, you lunge towards him, throwing your arms around his shoulders as you sob into his neck.

“I’m sorry,” you cry, “It’s all my fault, I should have never gone to that man’s birthday celebration. I should’ve never believed him,” and Jungkook just holds you close, his large hands spanning across your back as he presses you close to him. 

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he whispers, and he pulls back to survey your face. He softly ghosts a thumb over the red mark on your cheek, eyebrows furrowing at the mark. “Did he hit you?” 

You nod, hand coming up to cup the sore spot. His jaw grits, “I should’ve killed him.” 

You shake your head. “No, I’m fine. Please, let’s just go home. I’ll be okay. What about your arm?” Your hands grab for him, and when you push up his sleeve, you see that the cut isn’t very deep, but it bleeds nonetheless, staining his clothes. 

Your eyes widen, tears brimming as you scramble to find the hem of your dress to tear a piece of fabric away, but he stops you, your hand enclosed in his fist. He gives you a gentle smile. “I’ll be okay, wife. Don’t ruin your clothes for this, either.”  

He helps you up and onto the back of his horse, and you lean into his back, arms clasped around his waist as he leads the both of you in the direction to where home is. You mutter in his ear. “When did you learn to ride a horse? And to fight like that?” 

Jungkook frowns, “I’m not sure. When I heard you were in danger, I just took the first and fastest thing I could find, which was Eunwoo’s horse. And then when I got here...I just didn’t think.” 

You rest your head on his shoulder blade. “If you know how to write, how to read, fight, and horseback ride, you must have been from an affluent family.” 

Jungkook doesn’t say anything. He now realizes that in the hurry to get back to you, he’d dropped the package that contains the clothes he was found in. He hopes that either your father or Eunwoo had enough sense to bring it back home with them. He makes a different turn with the horse than the one you’re used to. 

“Where are we going?” 

He turns back to smile at you. “Do you trust me?” 

He rides for a little bit until he arrives at a meadow, and your eyes go wide at the scene. It’s the field of yellow flowers. Now that the autumn is almost over, the summer wild flowers are now receding from their full bloom, and the fields are now a beautiful golden color as the green begins to fade away into  a beautiful beige and yellow golden field. You gasp as Jungkook helps you dismount, and you marvel at the beautiful scene against the backdrop of the beautiful sunset. Everything was golden. 

His voice sounds from behind you. “You told me to tell others that you and I fell in love here in these fields.” 

You nod, still staring at the scene. “It was always a dream of mine, to fall in love in these fields. They’re absolutely beautiful.” 

You hear his footsteps approach, and he stands in front of you, in his beauty. “Can’t it become true?” 

Your eyes widen as your mouth drops slightly. “What? What are you talking about?” 

He reaches for your hand. “Today I realized, that that I am in love with you. At first, I wasn’t sure. I thought they might be feelings of filial love, out of duty or just a camaraderie from spending the past few months with you. But today, when I dropped everything in order to come for you, and when I saw you tied up to that tree with that bruise on your face, I couldn’t think or see anything. I knew that I had to save you. If it meant dying, then I knew in that moment that I would die fighting to protect you.” 

Your tears fall as your breath gets caught in your throat. He just smiles down softly at you. 

“Would it be so terrible, if we actually did fall in love in these fields?” He whispers, reaching out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “Would it be so far from your dreams if I were to continue to be your husband?” 

You shake your head, and whisper, “No,” you hiccup, “it would be absolutely perfectly perfect,” before he leans down and captures your lips in his. 

Unlike the kiss you had earlier in the spring, this one is hungry, and desperate. He holds you to him like you might fade away, and his lips hungrily swipe across yours as if its a declaration, a mark of his true dedication to you. Your tears fall and he easily swipes them away with his thumbs as you clutch him and press yourself up against him as close as you can, breathing in his scent, feeling him, perfectly lined up against you. 

You both return and deal with the hysterics of your father, Eunwoo, and Jisoo. Some of the villagers have come to help you repatch the things that the burglars destroyed, and after they’re finished, the moon is high into the air and most of everything back to normal. You would have to pay to get some things re-done and patched up, but the selfless villagers had done more than enough to help you and Jungkook. 

While you and Jisoo go aside to prepare some dinner for everyone who helped, your father pulls Jungkook aside. 

“Here,” he says, handing Jungkook the paper package. “I brought this to give to you.” 

Jungkook thanks him as he stares meaningfully down at the package. Your father peers at him, “Aren’t you going to open it? What you were wearing might hold an important clue to who you were before all of this.” 

Jungkook smiles, clutching the package in his fist. “No, father.” He leads him over to the campfire in the center of the yard, and tosses the paper package into the flames. Both men watch as the package burns quickly, the sparks flying into the night sky. Jungkook murmurs only loud enough for your father to hear. “I would rather live as Y/n’s husband happily, than to go back to a past that I might not be as happy in.” He turns to the elder. “Father, I would like to ask for your daughter’s hand.” 

The elder man laughs, staring and sighing up at the sky. “My dear boy, I’ve thanked the gods every single day that you were the one I found. Even though it was only meant for a year, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so happy.” At those words, the two of them look over to you, who’s happily serving dishes to everyone who’d volunteered to help, laughing and smiling and drinking with them as they cheer and dig into the hefty dinner. 

Your father grips Jungkook’s hand in his. “All I ask is that you cherish her. She deserves it.”

Jungkook smiles. “I know, father. She does deserve it.” 

From the side, Eunwoo notices that Jungkook and your father murmuring to themselves quietly before joining the dinner table. When he returns from using the restroom, he sees something golden glinting within the glowing embers of the fire. 

Later that evening, after all the guests had left and your father had fallen asleep, you draw Jungkook a bath after you’d washed up yourself, and you wait as you stare up at the stars on your porch. 

Suddenly, you feel arms wrap around you from behind, and your soft gasp turns into a giggle as Jungkook presses his lips to your neck, tickling you. “Are you all done?” You whisper, and he nods, snuggling in closer to you. Your cheeks turn incredibly hot as you realize he’s not wearing a shirt and the arms around you and the chest pressed against you are bare. 

Your eyes drift down, and catch sight of the cut from earlier on his bicep. Turning in his embrace, you press a light kiss against his chin. “I need to dress your injury,” you say, and he glances down at it as if he’d forgotten, and you follow him into your bedroom. 

The candlelight does nothing to hide the hotness of your cheeks as he stares at you deeply as you clean and dress the wound. Once you’re all finished, you’re already breathing heavily under the heaviness of his gaze, and when you look up at him through your lashes, he smiles at the look on your face and leans in to press his lips against yours. 

They press against your mouth, letting you relax into him, and then he grips your waist, hoisting you up onto his lap as you gasp into the kiss. He takes that moment to slip his tongue into your mouth, licking softly against yours and tasting you as you steady yourself with hands on his bare shoulders. 

His hands grip you through your dress, but they drift upwards to where your top is, undoing the ribbon there easily and casting away the top layer. You pant as he leans in to press his lips against your neck and chest, the only thing you can hear right now is the flickering of the fire outside, the soft puckers of his lips against your skin, and the heavy pants you let out at the way his lips make your mind go completely blank. 

He peels back the white layer of your underdress, your breasts falling out from the constrictive material and his hands come to cup them worshippingly, his lips immediately kissing the soft skin there and then lowering to capture a nipple and suck lightly. 

You gasp and cry out at the sensation, feeling a wetness pool in between your legs at the sensation and grip the hair at the nape of his neck, pressing his heat closer to you. “Please,” you pant, “I can’t wait.” 

He chuckles against your skin, pulling back to smile up at your exasperated expression. “You’re so beautiful, I want to savor this,” he mutters, a hand coming up to tug your hair out of the bun you always wore it in, and the locks tumble out across your back. He threads his fingers through them softly, look at the view of you perched naked on his lap, trembling and lit up by the soft glow of the candlelight. 

He presses a kiss against your lips as his hands slide under your dress and between your thighs, fingers pressing questioningly into the wetness he finds there. 

You moan at the sensation, grinding against his fingers as they circle the pebble there that incites an incredible feeling of pleasure. He leans forward until you’re spread out on the sheets, naked and panting for him. 

It’s your time being touched by a man, but Jungkook makes it seem like it’s the last. He holds you delicately in a way you’ve never been held before, his narrow hips slotting in between your thighs as he whispers sweet nothings into your lips. He carves his name into your mouth with his tongue, panting impossible breaths into your neck as he presses himself deep into your center, pushing past the wetness and settling deep within your hips as he begins to rock against you, his hands sliding into yours. 

And as you moan and cry out his name, you’re completely and absolutely blown away by how exactly perfectly perfect it is. 

[jaskierswolf]

Hello dearest Overlord!! May we please have a continuation of that brilliant Chicago fic you gifted us? It was SO GOOD I can't stop thinking about it lol

Maya! I meant to have this done for your birthday but life... sorry! Either way! Happy belated birthday! I shall upload to AO3 tomorrow!

Previous

Rated: E

Ship: Geraskier

Summary: After a night of sweat and sex and sin, Geralt knows it's time to apologise for the harsh words. If only he could find the words to say (Yes i'm abusing TAD lyrics... oops)

CW: weapons kink, shaving kink, minor injury, talks of rimming, and general hoeyness.

______

Geralt stared up at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the wall. The room stank of sweat and sex, and a warm spicy scent that wafted from the bard that was curled up on his chest. The night before had been possibly some of the best sex in his long life, but it had been tainted with the worry that it was the only chance he would get. Jaskier was still angry, and rightfully so, but it meant that Geralt wasn’t sure if this was the last time he would ever see his most loyal friend and companion. His fingers were softly trailing down Jaskier’s spine, painting flowers into the bard’s bare skin. Geralt couldn’t bear to watch Jaskier sleep. He was too beautiful, even covered in sweat, drooling over Geralt’s chest. Geralt just knew that if he looked then he would never be able to let Jaskier go.

And he couldn’t keep the bard if he didn’t want to stay.

“I can hear you thinking,” Jaskier mumbled, shifting on Geralt’s chest to press a kiss to the exposed skin. “It’s very distracting.”

Geralt huffed a laugh despite his growing anxiety. “Distracting you from sleep?”

“Mhmm.”

They laid like that for a few more moments, neither quite ready to face the day yet. Jaskier seemed to be trying to fall back asleep but after a couple of minutes he groaned and rolled onto his back. He pouted as he looked up at the ceiling, his hair a ruffled mess from where Geralt’s hands had run through it the night before, and there were dark bruises littered all over his neck, creeping down his chest where thick hair covered the pale skin. A stark reminder of Jaskier’s masculinity despite the way he preferred to present to the world.

Geralt swallowed as his cock began to make itself known. It could easily be excused as morning wood if Jaskier had decided that Geralt’s crimes were too dire to forgive, but he couldn’t help but hope.

“It appears that despite my best attempts, I am awake,” Jaskier grumbled, pushing his hands through his hair.

“Hmm,” Geralt agreed, waiting for Jaskier to pass judgement before he really spoke.

“So… witcher,” Jaskier breathed, his voice guarded and cool, making Geralt stiffen as he prepared for the worst. “I think we can both agree, that was a rather fantastic evening of carnal delights.”

“Hmm.”

“But not even sex with dear Melitele herself would make up for, well, you know,” Jaskier rolled onto his side and peered down at Geralt with icy fire in those pretty blue eyes, “the whole ‘if life could give me one blessing’ thing.” Jaskier’s voice deepened in his impersonation of Geralt and his words were accentuated with a flourish.

“Jaskier-”

“I meant it, Geralt. I want an apology, a real one, or forget it. I can find inspiration elsewhere, and well.. I- you probably weren’t my friend at all if you can’t see that what you did was wrong. I may be a bit of a prick sometimes, but I deserve better, Geralt.”

“I know,” Geralt whispered, wondering when the lost puppy that had followed him for so many years had grown up.

How had he never noticed?

“I’m sorry, Jaskier,” he breathed, struggling to find the words to explain just how sorry he was, but hoping that the bard would understand. “I- I was… I,” Geralt growled and covered his face with both hands, his beard scratching at his calloused skin.

The world felt like it was against him as he tried to gather his thoughts, but before he could, Jaskier’s hands were covering his, gently pulling them off his face. “Breathe, darling.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I don’t have the words to put this right.”

“Then show me, dear heart.”

Geralt’s brow furrowed as he gazed up at the bard, shining cornflower blue eyes shimmering in the morning light, his fringe falling down to cover them. He looked beautiful. Geralt reached up to brushed the hair from Jaskier’s eyes but it didn’t work and they both chuckled as Jaskier huffed a breath to try and blow it out of the way. “How?”

“You can start by getting rid of that beard. You look very handsome but my arse itches like a bitch this morning,” Jaskier grumbled.

“You weren’t complaining last night,” Geralt teased.

“Well, I was hardly going to whine about it when you had your tongue up my arse!”

Just like that the ice seemed to have broken and Geralt smirked as he pulled Jaskier into a kiss; the taste was stale and unpleasant on Geralt’s tongue but he didn’t care, he was kissing Jaskier., The bard moaned softly into the kiss, shifting on the bed so that he was straddling Geralt’s hips. Jaskier’s fingers were splayed on Geralt's chest as he rolled his hips against Geralt’s erection, making them both gasp into the kiss. The heat from the night before was back, not blistering and blinding but a slow build of embers as they were once again lost in the taste of each other.

And Geralt felt… happy?

He couldn’t remember the last time he allowed himself to be happy. Perhaps at Kaer Morhen before he set out onto the path for the first time. Before he learned that witchers were no better than the monsters they hunted in the eyes of humanity. There had been some brief moments of happiness when he’d been beside Jaskier on the path, the quiet moments before they went to sleep but Geralt had always been plagued with guilt, worried that he would destroy the fragile being that trusted him.

Of course, his fears had become reality, but in spite of everything Jaskier was still here with him, his lips pressed against Geralt’s neck, hands carding through his hair. So, because of the unfamiliar lightness in his heart, Geralt decided to tease his friend, his love, his bard. He grinned as he captured Jaskier’s lips once more in a bruising kiss, fingers digging into the bard’s hips to hold him close, and then he rubbed his cheek against Jaskier’s.

“Oi!” Jaskier grumbled, sitting back on his heels and glaring down at Geralt.

“What?”

“That beard has got to go,” Jaskier muttered, rubbing at his cheek. “If you really want to do the whole ruggedly handsome thing, which by the way, I don’t hate, then I am showing you how to look after a beard. It’ll be as soft as a baby’s bottom.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll shave.” Jaskier just grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “What?”

“Or…”

“Jaskier…”

The bard winked, his tongue flicking out to lick his lips in a way that really should be illegal. “If you trust me?”

“I do.”

“Then you’ll let me shave it off. I don’t have a razor but my daggers are plenty sharp enough?”

Geralt blinked, staring up at Jaskier as every single thought he’d ever had left his head. He was suddenly thrown back to the bard’s performance the night before. The way he’d moved, the touches to his skin, the frankly sinful way his body had looked in the corset and tights, an outfit better suited to a whore than a Viscount.

And his voice.

Dark, dangerous, calculating.

The same voice that usually held the warmth of the sun, turned to bitter poison as cold steel flashed in the candle light.

Geralt groaned, pressing his head into Jaskier’s shoulder, as the memory of the bard flipping the daggers in his hands with deadly precision, the edge of the blade glinting as he brushed it against his own neck. It was almost too much to handle, especially now that he’d had a taste of Jaskier, knew the filth the bard’s lips sang in the throes of passion.

“Oh, ho, ho!” Jaskier giggled, his fingers stroking through Geralt’s hair, sending a shiver down his spine. “You like that, don’t you witcher?”

“Shut up, Jaskier.”

“Oh no. No, no, no, I am loving this. I mean, I knew you enjoyed the show but I thought it was just the whole-” Jaskier cut himself off with a wave of his hands. “But it was more than that, wasn’t it, Geralt?”

Geralt was in no place to argue. His cock was impossibly hard and aching, trapped underneath his bard as he continued to roll his hips at a torturously slow pace. Jaskier’s cock was also hard as it moved against Geralt’s stomach, leaving a mess of precum on his skin. The sight made Geralt’s mouth water, and he was tempted to forget the whole beard thing, if it just meant that he could get his lips around Jaskier’s cock. Make his bard sing just like he had the night before, but before Geralt could think about manhandling Jaskier into the right position, the bard had leapt to his feet, leaving Geralt weak and wanting alone on the bed.

“Jask,” he breathed, watching the curve of Jaskier’s bare arse as he danced across the room.

“Be with you in a moment, darling,” the bard sang, sweeter than a nightingale.

And Geralt could do nothing but watch helplessly as Jaskier unsheathed the daggers from their holsters. The steel looked sharp and deadly. They were clearly very real weapons, not props, and Geralt felt his head begin to spin with lust. He had to remind himself to breathe, lest he pass out. Jaskier was too busy inspecting the blades to notice Geralt’s predicament, and he ran a long lutist's finger along the sharp edge of the dagger, hissing slightly as it cut into the skin.

“Sharp enough?” he turned to face Geralt, winking as he licked his lips.

Geralt nodded, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth. It was a miracle that Jaskier managed to still speak so eloquently even in the height of arousal, when Geralt could barely remember his own name.

“Brilliant!” Jaskier beamed, hopping back across the room without a care for the weapon in his hand.

He was a disaster.

Geralt honestly wasn’t sure how Jaskier hadn’t cut his own dick off. He clearly had no sense of self preservation, and yet Geralt was going to let him press that dagger to his throat.

Perhaps he was the idiot after all.

“Come now, Geralt, off the bed, I don’t want to get hair on the sheets,” Jaskier waved him over, flipping the dagger absentmindedly in one hand.

Geralt just scoffed. “I think there’s worse things on those sheets, Jaskier.”

“Sit!” Jaskier insisted indignantly pointing at the stool by the basin in the corner of the room.

There was no arguing with that, although Geralt did wonder if Jaskier would turn the blade against him, even in jest, and that thought had his cock throbbing. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so desperate, probably watching Jaskier perform, the searing jealousy as the fake Geralt and Yennefer lay their hands on Jaskier’s body.

Jaskier took no notice of his inner turmoil, of the raging fire burning inside him. Instead, he hummed an unfamiliar tune under his breath as he readied the dagger for its job. After the passion of the night before, the quiet intimacy was almost too much. Geralt just hummed as he settled into an almost meditative state, letting Jaskier move his head around as he needed to without resistance. The bard pressed his leg between Geralt's, staying still but keeping a gentle pressure on Geralt's cock whilst the blade moved methodically across Geralt's skin.

Every stroke of Jaskier's blade against Geralt's skin sent a wave of arousal through his body. He'd never seen Jaskier as anything more than an annoyance on the battlefield, and the calm stillness of the moment made him see his bard in a new light. He wondered whether Jaskier had been holding back on him this whole time or whether this skill with a blade was something he’d learned in their time apart. Without a witcher to protect him, Jasker had no doubt encountered no end of trouble. He’d ended up in the brothel after all… although it was like no brothel that Geralt had ever been to.

“You still with me, sweetheart?” Jaskier breathed almost silently, his lilting voice cutting through the cloud of meditation. Even in his meditation, his senses were locked onto Jaskier, ready to jump into action at a moment’s notice. It was an instinct he’d never realised he’d trained into being, it happened so slowly. One day he was wishing that Jaskier would finally get bored and leave, and the next, Geralt knew he would defend the idiot with his life.

But now it seemed Jaskier could hold his own, and that was just fucking hot.

Geralt didn’t know what was happening to himself. Everything he thought he knew was turning on his head, and he was somewhat irrevocably in love with the bard, he’d barely admitted was his friend.

By the time Jaskier was done, the blade smoothly gliding across Geralt’s skin, a finer shave than any barber he’d been to in all his years.

“Geralt, dear heart?”

“Hmm…”

“There you are,” Jaskier cooed, cupping Geralt’s cheek in his hands until Geralt let his eyes flutter open.

Jaskier was gazing back at him, his eyes blown wide and his cheeks flushed. The scent of arousal in the air made Geralt’s head hazy with lust. Before he could even think about what he was doing, Geralt knocked the dagger from Jaskier’s hand, the steel clattering as it flew across the room and bounced on the floor. The bard opened his mouth to protest but Geralt had been aching and hard for too long, and he was desperate to get his mouth back on Jaskier’s skin.

With a yelp, Jaskier was pushed back onto the bed, whining as Geralt teased the tight rim of muscle. Despite their long night of sex, Geralt would need to stretch him again, and he couldn’t wait. He’d found great pleasure in taking apart his cocky arrogant bard with both his tongue and fingers the night before, and he knew he would quite happily spend a whole lifetime doing it again and again. There was no better music than the noises Jaskier made when Geralt had his tongue lapping at the bard’s hole.

Without warning, Jaskier lunged to the edge of the bed, distracting Geralt with the curve of his arse so he didn’t notice what Jaskier was grabbing at until it was too late. The dagger was at his throat forcing him back onto the mattress, the tip of the blade hooking underneath that wolf medallion.

“Gotcha,” Jaskier winked, knocking all the air from Geralt’s lungs in less than a heartbeat.

“Jask,” he breathed, his words slurred as he struggled to see through the fog of lust.

“If I forgive you, witcher, do you promise not to throw me away like that again?” the bard’s eyes burned, but Jaskier saw through the mask to the scared little boy, one so frightened of being abandoned.

“Never again,” he vowed. “I swear.”

Jaskier let out a soft sigh and the tension visibly melted away from his body. “Good enough for me.”

And then he pressed their bodies together once more in a burning kiss that would stay with Geralt for the rest of his life.

[virmireisms-a]

Ashley - Tattoos & Piercings

Ashley's not one for many tattoos or other body modification; while her earlobes are pierced, she doesn't wear earrings (ever, really) because of her job.

But tattoos--now that's something Ashley's on board with. However, for Ashley her tattoos are personal and often sentimental in nature. Ashley gets tattoos to remember people or experiences, and they're strictly for her, not for anyone else to view. They're often in inconspicuous spots, easily covered by clothing. Ashley does not show these tattoos to just anyone. The only ones that are notably visible to anyone, or that could be picked up on by anyone, is the first one. The rest are private. Ashley will neither show nor tell anyone about them unless they are very close to her.

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The first is behind her left ear, where she has the numbers "212" in a cursive font, as well as a small depiction of a donkey sitting in a pennyloafer shoe. As Donkey and Pennyloafer were her two closest friends in the 212 on Eden Prime, Ashley got the tattoo to remember them specifically, as well as the numbers to remember her unit. She got this tattoo sometime in the ME1 timeline on the Citadel.

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The second is dependent on the outcome of the Virmire mission. If Kaidan does not survive in that AU, Ashley will get a second tattoo, on the inside of her left ankle. This depiction is of a maple tree with falling red, orange, and brown leaves, and under the tree is a blue letter K. This tattoo is to remember and honour Kaidan's sacrifice on Virmire. If Kaidan is alive, she doesn't get this tattoo.

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The third is on the back of her right hip, where she has a passage from Ulysses in scriptive font:

We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are; One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

This passage is written on what appears to be a piece of parchment, along with a baritone saxophone and a mug of beer beside it. This is to remember her father; he played the baritone sax, brewed his own beer, and Ulysses was his favourite poem.

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The fourth (on her back near her left shoulder blade) and most sentimental relates to the event at Alchera and the first Normandy ship crash. The tattoo depicts a pair of raised/cupped hands intertwined with greenery, vines, and flowers that appear to be encased in ice; in the center of the hands is the first letter of Shepard's first name (varies based on the Shepard she's interacting with). Ashley got this sometime in the ME2 era (if her squadmate AU and there is a romance involved/planned ship, it is after her visit to Alchera with Shepard; otherwise, she gets this prior to the events on Horizon). Below it in scripted letters are the words, "O Captain, my Captain".

Ashley will also make additions (when shipped/planned ship) unique to each ship. For what she has added based on ship, this headcanon will be updated periodically below the cut:

for @azurebiotic: Ashley added some small butterflies around the greenery and some aurora borealis lines above the tattoo, with the lines, "God give me courage to trust // I can break my chrysalis too!"

for @crimsonsavior: A small flame in front of the letter, with a puddle of water around it as if it'd melted the ice, and the lines, "Heart, are you great enough // For a love that never tires?"

[dinsrose]

My Center of Happiness

Din Djarin X Female Reader One Shot

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, Praise Kink, Soft Din, Swearing

Summary: Reader and Din stargaze together, and it basically just turns into pure porn. If soft smut, fluff, and praise kink are your thing, you have come to the right place. 

You can read the one shot here as well on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30192981

Here’s a song that reminds me of the fic

Here’s a song to listen to as you read the one-shot. It reminds me of Din and Rose in this particular scene.

The stars are perfect tonight. They twinkle and dance throughout the sky while shining brighter than you have ever seen them. There must be a meteor shower tonight as well, because you occasionally catch a glimpse of a falling star soaring through the atmosphere. These are your favorite nights. The nights where the galaxy is so quiet and kind. The clear skies make for the most beautiful scenery. One of your favorite things to do, is find the constellations in the sky.

Many people do not care for the stars, but you always have. When you were little, you used to look up at the sky and make countless wishes for a better life. The sky held so many opportunities in your mind. Your mother always told you that when you wished upon a falling star, the wish would always come true. You just could not tell anyone about the wish. Ever since she told you that, you spent almost every night wishing and talking to the sky. Wishing for a better life, a life where you and your family could be free. A life where you could fly away with your mother and father, living on the most beautiful planet in the galaxy. You always wondered what was out there.

Tatooine had been your home planet for your whole life, but you knew there were greater places out there. It used to drive you crazy, knowing that you would never get to leave that damn planet. You come from a family of slaves. It was a given that you would always be a slave, and never get out of the lifestyle. Especially considering you were the only one left of your family. You had convinced yourself that your life would always be the same. That you would never leave that sandy planet and be doomed to work every waking minute until you died off from exhaustion. Until one day, a bounty hunter came barreling into your owner's cantina to take him in. You never would have imagined this bounty hunter would turn your whole world upside down. This bounty hunter, Din, has given you everything you could ever want and need in this life.

When he offered to let you be a crewmate on his ship, and help take care of his adorable little green sidekick, you didn't even hesitate before shaking his hand in agreement. The past few months with them have been nothing short of amazing. The kid has grown to be as one of your own. You love him more than anything, and you couldn't imagine life without him. His father has become a huge part of your life as well. You are now part of a small, happy family; a clan of three.

The memories of the past few months cause you to smile as you lay back in the grass. Din had parked the Crest here on Naboo in a secluded area for the next few days. A few days to take a short break from everything for just a moment. After catching a glimpse of the sky, you had decided tonight would be the perfect night to stargaze. Din was asleep in the ship, along with the baby. The hatch had been left open anyways, because you wanted to get some fresh air. You had tiptoed down the hatch to a small spot in the grass about 20 feet from the ship. A spot that was perfect enough to lay down in and have a good view of the sky.

The cool breeze whipped all around you, causing the long blades of grass to slowly dance in the wind. The air was filled with the sweet scent of flowers. Everything here was just perfect. This was most definitely your favorite planet of them all. It had a special beauty about it, something just different from the others. The greenery here was unlike any other you had ever seen. The place was almost too perfect to be true. If Heaven was a place, you imagined this is what it would be like; on Naboo... in the flower fields... baby on your hip, and Din right beside you.

"What are you doing out here? And... why are you laying on the ground?" You hear his modulated voice ring out from behind you. Glancing up as far as you can, you see his figure come into view standing right above you. The moonlight reflects off his beskar as he towers above you. He just stands there in silence. There is just something about his silence that makes him so... sexy.

"Stargazing," you reply with a smile on your face. "I thought you were sleeping?"

"I was... and then I saw you were missing and got worried." He replies.

A grunt comes out from under his helmet as he starts to lower himself down towards you. He pushes his knees back and puts his palms on either side of your head, his helmet barely two inches away from your nose. He hovers there, the two of you facing opposite directions, and butterflies begin filling your stomach. You reach up slowly and place your hands on either side of his helmet. The beskar is cool to the touch as you pull his head down gently. You plant a gentle kiss right on the top of his helmet where his forehead would be. A smile spreads across your face as you pull back to look into the black visor.

"Join me, shiny." You say softly.

"How could I say no to that?" He says with a light chuckle.

He slowly rolls over to the side and onto his back. With your bodies facing opposite directions, he lines his head up right to the side of yours. If he did not have the helmet on, his ear would be the only part of him touching you; or maybe some soft, curly hair. You have never seen it, of course, but you have felt it a few times. He has removed it before while you were blindfolded, to gain access to your lips with his. And oh Maker, his lips were the softest lips you had ever kissed. His hair the fluffiest hair you had ever ran your fingers through. Thinking about it sent shivers through your core.

"What are we looking at here?" He asks. His voice sends vibrations through the helmet, and it tickles your ear.

"Well, for one, I am looking for constellations. I am also talking to my good friend Ada up there." You reply with a giggle. Ada was a name you and your mother had given to a star when you were younger. It was a silly joke to you now, but it still held very sentimental value to you.

"Ada?" He questions.

"Yes. My good friend Ada. My mother used to tell me that the stars were our very good friends, and that they would grant us wishes. So, naturally, as a child, I truly believed the stars could hear me." You giggled before continuing. "One night, I decided to name one of them, because if that star was going to grant me a wish, it had to be a special friend of mine. I shared my thoughts with my mother, and we both decided Ada was a good name." A small smile comes across your face as your voice begins to fade. "It's silly now, but something about it still holds sentimental value to me... so I talk to Ada to this day. Especially when I miss my mother." A frown replaces your smile as a wave of sadness washes over your body.

He goes quiet for a moment. All you can hear is the two of you breathing, and the wind whipping through the night air.

"So... the stars are special beings to us?" He finally asks.

"Yeah...something like that. My mother told me that they were their own individual being, just like us. That a specific star picked us to grant our wishes. That one star spent its whole existence, to make us happy. Basically, that star is a very special presence in our lives, and it is the sole center of our happiness. Everything good we receive in this life comes from that star. So, I think that makes them pretty special." You reply as you turn your head to the side to glance at him.

He lays there for another few minutes in silence. The moon reflects off his visor as he looks up into the sky. Looking over at him sends a warm feeling through you. Does he know that he is the center of your whole existence?

His finger suddenly points up to the sky. "You see that big star right there?" He says softly.

Following his finger, you can tell which one he is talking about almost immediately. It is much bigger than all the others. It has a pink tint to it as well. Somehow, it is much more beautiful than any other star up there. It dances in unison with the others as you watch it, waiting for him to continue.

"It shines brighter than the rest. It's prettier too... looks like a pink tint to it." He continues. "That's Rose... I am naming it Rose." His helmet turns to the side as he looks at your face. "If I have to name it something because it is the source of my happiness... it is going to be named appropriately."

Warmth floods throughout your entire body. "Rose" That is the nickname he had given to you about two weeks after the two of you had met. He had found out it was your middle name, and decided he really liked the sound of it, so that is the name he has called you ever since. Tears well up in your eyes at his sentiment. He just named a star after you, for the sole purpose of getting his point across that you are the source of his happiness. Nothing makes you happier than knowing that you make him as happy as he makes you. That has become your sole purpose in life, to make him happy.

"Din... " You whisper. Not really knowing what to say, you give him a small smile in hopes he understands the depth of your feelings for him.

His body shifts as he pulls himself around and lays down directly beside you. He props his elbow up on his neck so that he can face you on his side. He looks so perfect in the moonlight, even if you cannot see an inch of his skin.

"My sweet, Rose." He breathes out as he reaches up. His thumb starts grazing the side of your cheek as you close your eyes. His thumb trails every feature of your face as he lets it explore. Din has been really big on touch ever since the first time you let him touch you. After years of being deprived from the feeling himself, he can't get enough of it. You feel the leather graze gently across your eyelashes and down your nose before landing on your lips. He gently pushes his thumb inward as he trails it across your bottom lip.

"Keep your eyes closed." You hear him say.

A puzzled expression crosses your face, but you do as he says. His hand leaves the side of your face, leaving it feeling bare. He shuffles around a moment before you feel his soft hand reach back up, uncovered. He took his gloves off. His hand snakes around to the side of your head and holds it firmly at the base of your neck. Before you can ask what he is doing, a soft pair of lips lightly connect with yours. Maker, he had taken off his helmet.

The thought of it startles you slightly as you jolt back a little, careful not to open your eyes. He had never taken it off before without having you blindfolded in some way. Did he really trust you this much? Deciding that you do not care, you lean forward, wanting to taste him once again.

Electricity sparks throughout your entire body as your lips collide with his. A light moan escapes your lips as you taste the sweet flavor of his lips. His tongue sweeps across your bottom lip, and you open your mouth to grant him entry. His hands reach up and firmly grab both of your cheeks to steady your mouth right where he wants it. He can do anything he wants. You are in the palm of his hands and he doesn't even know it.

His body suddenly shifts, and he rolls on top of you. He straddles your hips with his legs, and places his elbows down on either side of your head. His lips never leave yours as he smoothly makes the transition. Your fingers reach up and tangle themselves in soft, wavy hair. The kiss suddenly becomes desperate, the both of you taking as much as you can from one another.

You let out a soft moan and pull back. "Din..." You whine.

"Tell me what you want." He replies.

His body freezes while waiting for your response. He hovers over you, keeping his eyes trained on you. Not that you can see it, you can just feel when his eyes are on you. It sends a shiver through your body. His weight shifts on top of you as he slowly drags one hand down your stomach. Warmth begins to flood your center as his hand reaches your thigh. He grips it firmly before asking again.

"Use your words, Rose. Tell me what you want." He repeats.

His demeanor makes you shudder, it drives you up a wall when he gets like this. Letting out a shaky breath, you try to speak.

"Yo- you," is all you manage to squeak out.

That is all it takes for him to act. His fingers start to slowly make their way up to your center, which is already soaking wet. His fingers come up to the top of your pants, and start to tug them down. He takes his other hand and wraps it around the base of your back, lifting you up to help ease off your pants. With one swift movement, he yanks them down to your ankles, taking your underwear with them.

His fingers instantly start making there way back up the inside of your leg. A gasp escapes your lips as the anticipation begins building in your stomach. Instead of landing his fingers right where you want them, he skips over your center and makes his way to the base of your shirt. You try not to whine out in disappointment.

He lifts your shirt up and over your head in one swift movement. His other hand is still holding your body off the ground. Your body is gently lowered back to the ground as he sits himself up. The only thing you can hear is the sound of the wind whistling through the air.

"You're so beautiful, Rose." You hear him breathe out. His breath hitches in his throat as he brings his hands down to rest on your chest. His finger starts to trace the outline of your breast until he reaches the peak of your nipple.

"My beautiful girl," he continues.

He leans down slowly, and presses his lips to the top of your breast. He begins kissing all over every inch of your chest as gently as he can. His lips leave an electrifying feeling on your skin everywhere they touch.

After a few seconds, he starts to trail his kisses upwards until he reaches the top of your neck. He starts sucking and biting the side of your neck as his hand slowly makes its way back down your stomach.

Your thighs are already soaked from what little he has already done. You can feel the wetness dripping down the back of your upper legs.

His fingers finally make light contact with your center, and it almost causes you to scream. Your back arches into his touch as he pushes down onto your clit. He begins to rub slow, small circles around with his thumb as he continues to suck on your neck. There will be bruises there. He loves to leave his mark on you.

"You know you always look so good when I mark you up." He growls into your ear.

Your moans begin to ring throughout the air as he speeds up the circular motion on your clit. The sensation is almost overwhelming. His lips come up to your ear as he lets out a grunt.

"Do you like it when I touch you like this, cyar'ika?" He growls.

A whimper escapes your lips in response. His thumb stops almost instantly when you don't answer his question. It almost makes you cry out.

"Din... please," you beg.

He slides his fingers through your folds and slowly pushes into your entrance. It almost makes your eyes pop open, so you squeeze them even tighter so as not to accidentally open them. His thick fingers fill you up and stretch you open. He curves them up slightly, an pushes them against that sweet spot deep in your center. As soon as he finds the right spot, he begins to glide his fingers slowly in and out, making sure to hit that spot each time he glides across.

A loud moan escapes your lips as you arch your back. The sensation is overwhelming. Instead of seeing the actual stars, you are now seeing stars from the back of your eyelids as the pressure begins building in your lower stomach. The sensations cause you to start writhing beneath him. His hand comes down hard on your stomach and pushes you into the ground; forcing you to stop moving.

"Relax, sweet thing, just relax." He says as he pushes you into the ground.

"Din, please... I need you closer." You whine out.

His fingers suddenly pull out of you, leaving you feeling empty. The pressure in your stomach is almost unbearable at this point. He begins to shuffle around, and you are about to ask what he is doing until you feel his hard cock rub up against your inner thigh.

Maker, he's hard as a rock. He wastes no time lining up and pushing into you. He's so fucking thick. A loud gasp escapes your lips, and your body shoots forward. As if he knows what it would do to you, his other hand clamps over your eyes as they begin to open.

"Fucking perfect," He growls out. He starts to move at a slow pace, stretching you out as he does. "Maker... you're so- so ti- tight." He grunts.

His chest comes down to meet with yours as he continues to fuck you at a slow pace. Hand still clamped over your eyes, he brings his lips down to yours and kisses you hard. You moan into his mouth as you open it to let his tongue gain entry. He pulls back and tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth as he lets go. His hand slides away from your eyes.

"Keep being good for me," He breathes out as he begins stroking your hair. His cock is ripping you open, but doing it so gently it almost makes you want to cry. His lips begin to leave small kisses all over every inch of your face.

"You feel incredible." He breathes out after he leaves a kiss on on the top of your eyelid.

He suddenly puts his hand under the arch of your back, and lifts you up into a sitting position. His cock is still inside of you when he settles you down onto his lap. The both of you are facing each other in a sitting position. You moan as you wrap your arms around his neck to gain some balance.

"Now be good, and start moving." He instructs.

You slowly start to move your hips and bounce on top of him. His cock hits you so much deeper at this angle, you have to squeeze your eyes really tight to keep from accidentally opening them. His hands are everywhere. Stroking your sides, cupping your breasts, scratching down your back... just everywhere.

"There you go sweet thing, just like that." He growls into your ear.

Your hips begin to stutter as you feel the pressure in your lower abdomen building. Desperate for the taste of him, you pull back and put your lips onto his. He moans into your mouth as he pulls you in close and locks his arms around your back. He pulls back from your mouth and moves his head down to your chest. His lips lock around around one of your nipples and he starts sucking. You throw your head back, letting out a loud moan. The pressure is building... building... building...

"Cum for me," He grunts into your ear.

That is all it takes. Stars begin to streak the back of your eyelids as you reach your peak. You let out a loud moan as you continue to bounce on his cock and ride out your high. Your fingers and toes begin to tingle, and you clamp down around his cock as you start to shudder.

Your pace starts to fade until you finally stop. You lean your head over onto his shoulder and sit on his lap for a moment, trying to regain your breath. His cock still inside you, he grabs your back and swings you back, pushing you into the dirt.

Without any warning he slams himself as deep into you as he can go. A strangled whimper escapes your lips as your nails dig into his back. He starts railing into you as hard as he possibly can. It feels like he is ripping you open, but in a good way.

"Feel so fucking good." He growls as he hammers into you. He continues giving you sweet praises as he chases his own high.

"My perfect girl... so fucking perfect." He starts to gasp and stutter as he praises you.

His hips begin to falter, as he gets close to his own orgasm. He leans over and bites down hard onto your shoulder as he begins to let out a soft moan. You can feel him emptying himself into you as he pants and gasps for air, filling you up to the brim.

He brings his lips to yours, and gives you a long kiss as you grab his cheeks with your hands to hold him steady. When he finally breaks away, the both of you just sit there for a moment, panting and gasping for air. His cock is starting to soften inside of you, but he is so thick, it doesn't fall out.

"Are you okay?" He says softly as he strokes your hair back from your eyes.

"I'm more than okay." You breathe out as a smile breaks out on your face. Your hands make their way to his face and begin to caress his cheeks. The both of you sit there for a moment, just feeling each other. He begins to say something, then stutters.

"Hmm? What did you say?" You ask as you stroke his hair.

"Ni... kar'tayl gar... darasuum." He finally says. Having no clue what he is saying, you let out a giggle.

"Din... what does that mean?"  

"You'll know one day, my Rose." He replies. His body starts to roll off of you, and you can feel his cock slide out of you. It  leaves an empty feeling in the pit of your core. A soft material covers your body as he wraps something around you. His cape. He fastens it at the neck, and continues with the task at hand. A few moments pass as you lay there, eyes still shut, waiting for him to give you the okay. A warmth has settled in over your body, and all you want to do is stay right here in this moment. A hand sweeps under you and you screech out as he lifts you into the air and into his chest.

"Okay, you can look" He says.

As you open your eyes, you can see that he has put his helmet back on, and has your clothes draped over his shoulder. He begins packing you back towards the Crest, when he stops so suddenly you think something is wrong.

"I know you, Rose." He says softly.

"And I know you" you say as you lift your hands and place them on either side of his helmet.

[mimicteruyo]

Dancing on This Faultline

[Touhou Ship Week Day 1: Memories. YukaYuyu, 1.3k, angst]

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The Saigyou Ayakashi stood stark amidst the sea of spring. The remnants of its final crop of leaves lay decomposing beneath its branches, sacrifices to the passage of seasons. Yukari kept her distance as she watched where the branches met the sky. She didn't need to observe the borders to know the tree teetered between life and death, so unstable all it would take was a single push to banish it from Earth for good. An unnecessary push: it would soon topple into the Netherworld of its own accord. Already the boundaries connected to it undulated and rippled, marking the garden as belonging to two worlds at once. If anyone had been there with her and had dared to asked, Yukari would have told them this was why she did nothing. Nature would take its course without her input. Why bother? Of course, she was alone, and she didn't feel the need to deceive herself in this particular matter. She let the tree be because it was, in essence, all that remained of the one human she had truly loved. She sauntered closer, stepping lightly across the border between the blanket of fallen petals and the brown earth encircling the Saigyou Ayakashi. The seal upon the tree was tremendously strong, guaranteed to keep any further victims from succumbing to their fates, simultaneously ensuring it would never flower again. If the tree could bloom, just how bright would the blood seeping through the roots dye its blossoms? A cool breeze swept across the garden, sending petals flying and grabbing at Yukari's loose hair. It wouldn't be long till the season of cherry blossoms ended and only plain green remained in the trees. In all trees except the barren youkai tree. A youkai tree. A youkai, just like her. Hadn't she already accepted that? Who was it who had chosen to look beyond each veil she found and let what she had discovered behind them change her? It didn't matter if being able to manipulate borders also meant living with no escape from the awareness of the fragility of the world, that the boundary between meaning and nonsense was gossamer-thin. She would grow used to it. Others had. The more she thought about it, the more the tree was an eyesore. How long would it stand there, glutted on life force and lingering on without water or sunlight or freshly stolen souls before finally shuffling off to the Netherworld for good? She raised her hand to send it far beyond her senses.

"Do you think its blossoms would be even more vibrant than the rest?"

Yukari's hand remained up. She put it down very deliberately before turning to face precisely who she had expected to face.

Yuyuko had emerged by her side as quietly as a flower opens its petals. Her butterfly-like delicacy concealing a steel blade of a mind had been refined into ethereality, but had she been dressed in something other than a snowy robe, she might still have fooled a human into thinking she belonged in their fold.

Of course, there was no fooling someone who could see all the boundaries of the universe. Yuyuko had very decisively bled across the border of life and death. Even if that hadn't been obvious, the tree's blossoms remained sealed by the very being who now smiled at Yukari as though meeting an interesting stranger for the first time.

Yukari forced herself to remain calm. It had been inevitable. Where else could Yuyuko have gone, so decisively bound to the Saigyou Ayakashi, but to this awkward borderland? The only place where she could go from here was onwards to the Netherworld, where she would hopefully find the peace she had never found in life.

In other words, there was no reason for why Yukari should feel like someone had just slashed all of her veins from the inside.

"It would surely have the most magnificent blossoms of all," Yuyuko mused, continuing to smile in spite of Yukari's silence. Her voice was unchanged from life, even if the dreamy, vague tone hadn't been typical of her in the past. "What a shame. It's fortunate we have so many other trees to enjoy, at least."

Yukari found her voice. "You seem very at ease for a ghost."

"Yes, rather. I must have had many lingering regrets to remain here, but here I stand with little notion of what they may have been. Not that I mind."

With that, Yuyuko's attention returned to blossomless branches.

That could have been the end of it. Yukari could have accepted the situation for what it was and left Yuyuko behind, secure in the knowledge that what awaited her was better than a lifetime of fear and loneliness.

Instead, she found herself speaking once more. "Do you remember me?"

Yuyuko turned and tilted her head. A thin frown crested on her face just for a moment before her perfect calmness re-asserted itself. "Possibly. At least, I feel that I could hazard a guess. Perhaps after we find a suitable place to sit down we can entertain ourselves by trying to guess each other's secrets."

Yukari watched this new, breezy, strange Yuyuko and saw instead a face wet with tears, wreathed by hair clustered into clumps.

"You must go. I was selfish to ever think I could live with another person. If you don't leave, you too will..."

"Yuyuko." It was all she could think to say, only she didn't think it: the name escaped on its own, maliciously prolonging the encounter.

Yuyuko faced her, unconcerned by the lack of title or honorific, unconcerned even by Yukari's knowledge of her name. Her eyes were a marginally redder hue of brown than they had been in life. They had been entirely altered.

Yukari searched for something to say and found only further memories of a figure huddled tiny by guilt and winter's chill alike — a winter which had only just ended, but which Yukari had experienced as another person altogether.

"But I'm still selfish. I still cannot let you go." "Please, stay with me. For one last night." "Before it's too late."

She reached for the boundary between the past and the present, and Yuyuko came back into focus. The current Yuyuko, the one whose eyes were so close to those in Yukari's memories and yet weren't the same.

She looked at her in silence. The truth was that when Yuyuko had died, she had invited a part of Yukari to join her in death.

But... in doing so, perhaps Yuyuko had done her a favour.

She needed to stop thinking like a human. After all, she wasn't one. Neither of them were. And with that thought, she smiled at Yuyuko. "I'm glad you've been able to discard your past concerns."

"Thank you. I think I truly have." Yuyuko tilted her head again, precisely as she had when Yukari had first stumbled into this garden. "Perhaps you may one day tell me what those concerns were."

"Who knows?" Yukari found her smile becoming more genuine. "On my way here, I saw the perfect place to sit down and admire the remaining flowers."

"Wonderful. Will you lead the way?"

Yukari wasn't surprised when Yuyuko held out her hand. She was slightly more surprised when she herself reached out and took it.

Even so, as she interlaced her fingers with Yuyuko's, she felt like she was coming home.

There would be a time for re-introductions, re-explanations, a rekindling of passions. Or perhaps there would be none of those things and instead a new flower would sprout from the ground left bare by the cessation of humanity.

It would be a wondrous blossom regardless, Yukari knew, finally smiling in earnest as she guided Yuyuko through the land that was at once alive and dead, changing the boundaries of the scattering of light in her eyes to the shade of the most vivid cherry blossoms imaginable.

[thekristen999]

First Lines of Last 20....

I was tagged by @amandagaelic and I finally had some time to play :)

Guidelines: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20,  just list them all.) Choose your favorite opening line, tag some friends!

The World Is On Fire And No One Can Save Me But You  9-1-1 (Buddie) Traffic was snarled, red lights were ignored, people slammed on their cars horns, and all three rigs were stuck in the middle of it. “What’s the latest, Cap?” Eddie asked over the radio.

“Reports are sporadic,” Bobby replied. “Crowds are heading toward City Hall and counter-protestors are marching up Grand Avenue and Broadway.”

Are You With Me?  9-1-1 (Buddie)  Eddie stared at the assorted box of teas, picking up one and scanning the label before putting it back down. Each box said the same thing: calming, relaxing, soothing bedtime formula. He settled on chamomile. His mother used to drink it when he was a kid, and his father was away on business. Funny—it was made of flowers, not leaves.

There Goes My Hero, He's Ordinary  9-1-1 (Buddie) Eddie couldn’t shake the feeling of unease it stirred up, how his body tensed in anticipation of a fight that never came, or how memories he’d tried hard to forget kept popping up like flashes of a YouTube video. Whooshing rotor blades, muzzle flashes, the lingering smell of cordite. He rubbed a hand over his face, the physical sensation chasing away the phantoms.

We Found Each Other (Over There) 9-1-1 (Buddie) Omaha Beach 0100 June 6, 1944

At midnight 7,000 ships left Britain under the cover of darkness: Destination Normandy. Specialist “Buck” Buckley had no idea how many troops were aboard. Tens of thousands. More people in one place than he could ever imagine. His aunt had been to France once; she’d sent him postcards, causing his imagination to run wild. This wasn’t exactly how he imagined visiting.

Black and Blue and Broken Bones  Hawaii-Five-O (McDanno) The sunset painted the sky in hues of red and pink, capturing the moments before the day disappeared and night descended. Danny had to admit, it really was beautiful.

Beat Me To The Sacrifice Hawaii-Five-O (McDanno) Steve eyed the hamper full of clothes with annoyance when he walked into the bathroom. Thank goodness it was almost the weekend; the chores were piling up. After turning on the water to the shower, he got out his aftershave and razor and pondered if he wanted to brush his teeth at the sink or not.

The Call Hawaii-Five-O (McDanno) Given his status as the head of Five-O and the long list of people who would like to see him dead, Steve always took an extra moment to study his surroundings when returning home. While nothing seemed out of the ordinary, his gut told him otherwise.

The Quiet White Hawaii-Five-O (McDanno) Danny made arrangements with Lou to keep an eye on the team and ensure morale would remain high while they were gone. Walking into Steve’s bedroom, Danny dumped the duffle bag from his house on the bed to help pack.

Just You and Me (and Your New Best Friend)   Hawaii-Five-O (McDanno) Danny didn’t live with Steve, per-say. Yes, the third drawer in Steve’s dresser belonged to Danny, the red toothbrush and Ultra Edge razor was also his, and maybe he kept his favorite snacks and food in the fridge.

Hold The Line Hawaii-Five-O (McDanno) Junior listened to the break-down of the mission and bit his tongue. He ran the numbers, calculated resources, and time. This was at minimum a four-man operation. Two-man was too risky. Solo was just-well, McGarrett type of stacked odds.

Anchor In The Storm Hawaii-Five-O (McDanno) All the bones in Danny’s body ached, his limbs heavy with fatigue. Not from exertion, or a foot chase, no.This was simply because he drank too much red wine. Stupid.

Leaning back in his chair, he plopped two Alka Seltzer and watched them fizz.

In The Blink Of An Eye Hawaii-Five-O (McDanno) As far as raids went, this was one Steve would like to forget. He balled up his fists to settle his shaking hands. Shit. That had been close. Blue and red lights flashed in the background as he walked away from the scene. Standing near a dumpster, he waited for the adrenaline rush to fade.

Past Tense Hawaii-Five-O (McDanno) Danny stared at his computer screen and debated buying the airline ticket. It’d been three months since he’d seen Grace. Too long. Distance and money were evil restrictions when it came to his daughter attending college on the mainland. Skype and weekly phone calls did little to ease the ache in his heart. He moved the mouse over the purchase icon.

Stay Loyal to the People You Hold Dear Marvel- Avengers:Endgame Dwelling on your mortality won’t change the inevitable. Live for each day and appreciate the time you’re given. Thor breathed in scorched metal and dirt, climbed and leaped over fresh craters. Blood pounded in his eardrums as he destroyed his enemies.

It should taste sweet; it should feel glorious -- it should have filled the hole inside him.

Split Seconds, Split Decisions Hawaii-Five-O (McDanno)

Junior was a SEAL, the best of the best, loyal to Team and Country.

He’d found fulfillment in the Navy, in serving his country, in the comradeship with his fellow SEALs. Waking up each day meant conquering another challenge; thriving on every adversity, earning the privilege of wearing the trident on his sleeve.

Then one day it all fell apart and he became unmoored.

Touch My World With Your Fingertips Hawaii-Five-O (McDanno) Every third Saturday of the month it was the same ritual. The mattress shifted under Steve’s weight as he crawled out of bed and Danny rolled onto his side to watch him.

Steve was a creature of habit. He adjusted himself. Rubbed his eyes. Stretched his arms into the air, treating Danny to the muscles of his well-defined back. And yeah, Danny wanted to join Steve in the shower, give up some shuteye for an amazing blowjob. But not this weekend. That was the rule.

A Light to Guide Me Home Hawaii-Five-O (McDanno) Steve pulled into his driveway. Resting his head against the steering wheel, he tried mustering the energy to finish the last part of his journey. He’d been in too many time-zones in too few days.

Safe Harbor  Hawaii-Five-O (McDanno) Steve studied the first four names on the false intelligence report.

Leo Bernard: Paris Torres Cantor: Madrid Hugo Bartlett: Berlin Drew Goff: London

Closing his eyes, he pictured the letters, listened to the cadence of vowels and consonant sounds.

Give Up, Give In, Or Give It All You’ve Got  Hawaii-Five-O (McDanno)

1992 McGarrett Home

Steve walked through the living room and toward his dad’s office. He noticed a half-empty glass of bourbon on the desk.

“Your Uncle Joe got you into the Army/Navy Academy,” Dad told him as he walked in. “And I’m sending Mary to stay with your aunt.

From The Ashes  Hawaii-Five-O (McDanno) The air inside the Camaro was stagnant despite the low hum of the air conditioner. Danny adjusted the seat to stretch his legs and tried to get comfortable. He was restless; all he could smell was the lingering odor from the burgers he and Steve had eaten hours ago. His stomach growled at the memory.

I tag: @thisissirius @renecdote @missslothy @stephmcx ​@agentlemuse @stellarm @tari-aldarion @cinematicnomad @matan4il @bgharison

and whomever wants to play!

[funkzpiel]

Today on this episode of "I promise I didn't disappear off the face of the earth I've just been busy and totally lacking creative energy (or brain cells, for that matter) it's terrible, but hello, I did a thing" - I present this:

The Little Deaths of the Pining Flowers

For the Hades Big Bang, in collaboration with kowaiyoukai (their beautiful illustration featured here).

Fandom: Hades Game Pairing: Zagreus/Thanatos Featuring: Pining, Off-Brand Hanahaki Summary: “Does it ever get easier?” Thanatos finally asked one day.

“No,” Achilles said, the gentle hush of his words like the breath of the breeze through meadow reeds, “But it does get easier to hide.”

Death cannot die. No blade can pierce him, no hand strong enough to steal a final breath from the powerful column of his throat, no disease potent enough to mar his flesh. Death, like Time, was fathomless and unending. So long as there was Life, there was Time to observe it and Death to spirit it away.

And so long as there was love, there was pining – and all of its little maladies that follow. Death knew of them, these maladies, these “little deaths” that come before the final breath. Some fleeting, some spanning decades. The gods, in all their brilliance, creativity and cruelty, created love. Love, the painful precipice between life and death. Knit tightly between the two so that from the depths of it might bloom a beautiful, wretched thing: pining flowers . Life sprung from the ashes of despair, fertilized in love and hope unrequited. In doing so, pain became love and love became pain, death and life a reflection of one another more intimate than the eternal dance of the sun and moon itself.

Thanatos had watched these slow, curdling little deaths before. Had watched them ferment into heavy, cloying things that stole the breath from mortals’ chests. Flowers making beautiful wreaths of their lungs, thick with life borne from a love so fierce it could suffocate. Thanatos had watched men and women alike grow frail with it, their bodies made into gardens as they coughed fragile bulbs and blooms from their lips. Thorns were always the worst: roses and the like. Lips turned red, and yet these mortals who simply loved and feared too much could not find it in themselves to cure their aching chests. Could not simply let go of that impossible love – or confess it – to end that prickling, weed-like pain.

He had heard, once, that the gods could fester such illnesses; though flowers could not create homes of their flesh as they did in mortals. Rather they instead bloomed from the excess of the wealth of their power made unstable by their want. Made helpless to the source of their own gifts. But Thanatos had never seen such a thing. Thanatos had never understood. Not until Zagreus left without so much as a word of warning. All at once, it was like the Underworld had been snuffed of some great light. There was no sun beneath the surface of the earth, and yet the darkness and chill felt suddenly so much sharper, keener, without the warmth of Zagreus’ smile. Everything darker, every mercy suddenly harder to reach for, every hope dashed across the rocks like the surf wrecking a ship to ruins against the coast.

Zagreus was gone. His home, his family, his friends – Thanatos – none of it had been enough to keep him here. Thanatos had not been enough.

When the next death bell tolled, Thanatos did something he never did: he hesitated. Struck suddenly frozen by the realization. He had not been enough. Of course, he hadn’t. Zagreus was born of the Underworld, but he was also born of the surface – of life and blood and all things that breathed . Of course, death and darkness had not been enough.

Of course, Thanatos had not been enough.

He slipped from the Underworld to collect the soul the death bells tolled for and as he did, he felt something slip deep into his chest. Some foreign, alien thing; so unfamiliar as to be written away as imagination. Like a seed splitting the soil and roosting beneath.

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Thanatos did not know what was worse - trying to cast Zagreus from his mind, or being constantly reminded of the man every time the death bells tolled for him. For every toll, whether Thanatos went to him or not, was another failed escape attempt and the beginning of yet another. He knew Zagrues must think his plight for the surface cursed - it was he after all who kept experiencing the relentless grip of the river Styx - but it was Thanatos who felt truly cursed. For every escape attempt was another reminder that Zagrues desperately wished to be free of them: his home, his family, Thanatos.

But the bells tolled and tolled, singing a symphony that drew Thanatos a little nearer and a little nearer each time. Like the moon, he found himself in Zagreus’ orbit - at first not at all, then from a distance, and finally passing him by, feeling the warmth of Zagreus’ being shining upon him, lighting him up. Even now, lighting him up.

He watched from the edge of the clearing as Zagreus dodged the molten depths of Asphodel, his weapon of choice - this time Varatha no doubt to spite his father - cleaving through the various shades hellbent on keeping him here per Hades’ bidding. The prince was tired. Not yet strong enough to survive his fight with Megara and continue on at full strength. But it would come, Thanatos suddenly realized with the same casual understanding of fact as one might recognize that the lava around them was hot .

But he would not survive this run much longer. And unassisted, he might not even survive this chamber. With a weight growing in his chest, Thanatos realized he might witness Zagreus’ fall for himself this time. Not second hand through rumor or one of his brother’s reports or the tolling of the bells, but first hand with his own eyes.

Thanatos couldn’t have said what made him step forward to help - not because he didn’t know, but because he couldn’t admit it. He blocked all thought out, pursuing just one goal: I can’t watch Zag die...

All he knew was that when the death bells tolled his reveal from the shadows of death into the realm of awareness in which all could now see him, the sound caught Zagreus’ attention and time stopped for just a moment - giving Thanatos the luxury and agony of seeing first the surprise on the prince’s face, then the relief that followed. Relief, as though Zagreus had been waiting at some fathomless horizon for centuries, simply hoping for Thanatos to rise above its edge and greet him.

“Zag,” he growled - voice rough around a strange feeling in his throat. He couldn’t find it in himself to dig for any other words. He barely pried the man’s name out as it was. It was easy to hide that fact between a cleaving swing of his scythe, cutting the battlefield down into a group of straggling shades that were much more manageable between the two of them.

“Than,” Zagreus wheezed, the name cut short beneath another shade’s attack.

Zagreus sounded bad. Even with Thanatos’ help, this particular escape might not last much longer, Thanatos mused. He could hear the man’s breath. A thready, wheezing thing that slowly but surely worsened. Loud, almost in Thanatos’ ears, in his very chest and he could not take it. Not here. Not from Zagreus, who would have been safe and whole if he had simply stayed home. He ground his teeth, cleaving shades with a growing eracticism unbefitting of the quick, efficient stroke of Death. Felt every swing release a little of that anger and confusion into the depths of Asphodel and the flesh of its shades.

His gaze tore to Zagreus as the last shade fell, the fire-tongued soles of his feet simmering against the punishing stone floor of Asphodel as he leaned against his spear like a crutch and caught his breath. Those feet duller than they should have been. In that moment, Thanatos felt an urge to follow Zagreus to the end. If he saw the surface, would it slake his thirst of the unknown enough to satisfy him? To draw him back? It was a weak thought, one that made Thanatos bristle madly at himself. It was becoming increasingly obvious it had been a mistake to draw this near to Zagreus. Death was obviously not as strong - or as unbiased - as he thought he was.

Zagreus had just managed to turn to Thanatos with a smile and a thank you when that expression fell - like sunlight disappearing beneath a cloud - for Thanatos was gone, a bell moaning in his absence, and in his place: a centaur heart.

“Oh Than…” Zagreus murmured softly, eyes locked upon the heart.

Alone, Zagreus hobbled his way to the heart, stopping short of grabbing it when he saw something strange on the ground beneath its floating weight. Here - in the fiery grip of Asphodel - a single petal simmered on the ground, curling fraily against the heated stone. The prince grabbed it with shaking fingers, thumb brushing over petal’s delicate length. Red as blood, thin and reaching. Soft as velvet and utterly lost here in this world of fire and death.

How in the world had anything grown here, Zagreus wondered, as he slipped it into his tunic above his heart, red like his eye and his feet and so much of his namesake. Flush against his skin, as though it had belonged there all along.

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Persephone walked amidst her garden as she often did, greeting the great flush of her gift upon the soil with gentle hands and a smiling heart. At her touch the foliage seemed to bloom all the brighter. As she neared, it appeared to lean toward her like a flower reaching for the sun, following it’s daily axis.

Everything was much the same. The trees, the bushes, the crops, the flowers. Everything, she realized, but one. A new bloom, there much without her design or intention. Slender stalks rising up from the ivy and shade of a nearby willow, unfurling into magnificent red tongues and curling petals.

“My, my, what have we here?” She mused, tender and kind as she greeted this new bloom, just as she would have an old and familiar friend.

A spider lily, she realized with raised brows. Here, in her garden. Slim fingers stroked the nearby bloom - only a few and yet startling all the same. She had not planted these. Had it been her heart that drew these lovely blooms? Her unrequited regrets beneath the simmering hurt of her past? The red spider lily - the final goodbye. A blossom said to guide the dead. No, this wasn’t hers. It had been too long, the scar of that time too old, for it to have suddenly appeared by her doing.

Strange, to say hello to the final goodbye here amongst her carefully tended garden. She watched it shiver in the spring breeze, frail somehow in its little wind-drawn dance. With a frown, she felt something heavy stir within her heart. A longing and a worry.

Somewhere, she realized, someone was mourning. She watched a petal drift upon the wind and disappear. She wondered who the goodbye was for or if, like many things, it was even a goodbye at all…

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The first full blossom that appeared grew in the hair of a young man’s corpse. It had not been there when he arrived. It had not been placed by the loving hands of family or kin. It had not been until he reached for their soul that it grew, crimson petals splaying out like a corona - thick and full. There, among death and the dying, Life grew as Life often did: against all odds, rebellious and unapologetic.

He wondered if this human had been watched or favored by some god or goddess. It was easy enough, back then, to think nothing of it.

Easy to miss that it had not grown until he had thought - quite by accident - how similar the man’s hair had been to the prince’s.

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Death’s chamber - moreso a place of enforced rest rather than necessary rest - was a cool, dark place carved out of the fabric of reality. A place made for him by the Night herself, speckled with twinkling starlight and furnished with all the trappings of comfort any entity might desire. It was not, however, a place of light or Life. There was no facsimile of sun, no warmth. It was a reflection of his very identity, and therefore the opposite of Life; and yet when he opened his eyes after a short, restive doze, it was to petals on his pillow. Not just petals individually, but a blossom. Stalkless, and yet full and lush. Large enough to fill his palm with curling petals, reaching like red tongues from its core. Death blinked and rose upright, staring down at the bloom.

The same bloom that had wreathed that corpse.

What might have been the favor of a god upon that human felt decidedly less possible now. Had it been a trick from Hypnos? From some other shade or god or goddess? But from the bloom, he could sense himself . As though it were a part of him as much as his room was a reflection of himself.

Which just… couldn’t be.

Death could not make Life .

He brushed the flower away with a faint, confused frown, only to turn to rise from his chaise and find more blooms. One atop a nearby book. Another on the floor, in a blanket, on the rug, beside a goblet. Flowers. Life. All grown here in the dark grip of Death.

This, he finally accepted, was a problem.

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It was definitely a problem.

Death did not know who’s idea of a sick joke this was, but he found the flowers blooming positively everywhere now - slight at first, but growing. It had begun as something almost ignorable. A blossom tucked in the crag of a stony wall. Red petals peeking out from the centerpiece of a table. Once, appearing what would have been a shade’s hair, were they alive.

But now they trailed him in obvious patches, suddenly crowning the heads of nearby shades and growing atop the slender rails of passing balconies. No one suspected him. It was a miracle, but it was hard to assume Death had any hand in Life. Yet still, the sudden growth of spider lilies among the courts of the dead was on everyone’s lips. Where were they coming from? Why had they appeared?

Was Persephone somehow responsible? How could she not be? Yet… she was not here.

It made the Lord of the Underworld more brittle and eruptious than before, a feat no one truly thought possible. It fostered an even greater divide between father and son as well, for the more the court wondered about how the flowers might be tied to Persephone, the more Zagreus asked after her. And the more he asked, the more the prince realized he needed to leave if he was ever to get answers.

The more he tried - and died - in the pursuit of being anywhere but among the dead, the more the flowers grew.

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Even knowing that every attempt took Zagreus further from him, Thanatos found he could not stop thinking of it - the attempts, Zagreus’ failures, the repeated destruction of his- His prince. That was a safe term, yes. His prince.

He laid awake in his rooms, crimson flowers rising like the depths of the river taking Zagreus all too often, and found he could not spare his mind of thinking of him. Zagreus bleeding, pale flesh bruised like soft fruit, yet so determined to be gone.

Just because he was no longer part of the equation of his prince’s happiness, could he truly continue to just watch this happen? Or perhaps true devotion, true service, was assisting even when it reduced his existence in the man’s life to irrelevance.

He’d help, he decided, because Zagreus was his prince, and Death was nothing if not faithful and reliable. No sooner had he decided it, a blossom appeared over his heart. Large and heavy, every petal weighted like stone, driving the breath from his lungs.

Yet he didn’t have the heart to move it.

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The prince of the Underworld was special in many ways, no one could argue that except, perhaps, his father. And one such way was that when the bell of death tolled for Zagreus, it was rarely with the intention of taking him away. Thanatos arrived, his motives hidden beneath a well placed challenge of who can kill more shades here in the depths of Asphodel?

A game, just a game. No one could get hurt, if it was just a game. And goodbye would not hurt so much, if it was on Thanatos’ terms… Or so he hoped.

Death’s blade swung, cleaving shades in two. Souls upon souls, ushered back into the depths by his hands, just to spare one man the journey home. It was illogical. It went against his lord’s wishes. And yet, Thanatos knew there was no other option, not for him.

He could not be an instrument in caging Zagreus if it meant having him near would only make him unhappy. He cleaved men from their families, wives from their children, mortals from dreams left unspent and unfulfilled. Here, he had a choice.

Now, he wanted to see someone grow.

“That was something, Than,” Zagreus said as the last shade fell, wiping his sweaty brow with the back of a one bloody hand - making the mess on his face worse. Yet it did nothing to diminish the sheer Life of his smile as he turned to him. That smile - so full and unapologetic - was like the sun turning its face upon Thanatos, reaching his skin in a way it never had topside. Warm, making his belly flutter. Foolish and childish, he scolded himself. Made worse when that smile suddenly faded before Thanatos could answer and Zagreus said with a soft, perplexed frown, “What’s that?”

He followed the gaze of his prince to the ground at his feet - or rather below his feet - and there mere inches beneath the floating drape of his toes, a bed of flowers began to bloom. Spears of grass rising and charring in tandem to the merciless heat of Asphodel, and yet the flowers heartily remained untouched among the thicket of rising and dying green. Bloody red flowers, reaching up - not to Thanatos , but to Zagreus - as though he were the sun.

Lost in his grasping for explanations he simply didn’t have, all Thanatos could do was quickly retreat a few floating steps when Zagreus suddenly started forward and, using his blade as to help himself down with a grown, knelt to observe them better. He had one thick, tanned finger delicately beneath one of the lilies reaching tongues as his brows raised and he mused, “I’ve seen these around my father’s court but I didn’t ever imagine I’d see them out here . What could they possibly be?”

But when he looked up, Thanatos was gone. Gone, leaving nothing but a sudden crown of blooms in Zagreus’ hair to remember him by. Gone, because that touch - so delicate and gentle beneath the petals’ reach - had felt as though Zagreus had touched him.

And it hurt down to Thanatos’ very bones, stealing the very breath from his lungs, to know it was a touch he’d never feel for himself. Not when Zagreus wanted nothing more than to leave.

*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*

It got worse. Much worse. He stopped visiting his brother after Hypnos once woke - bewildered - in practically a carpet of red blooms, right in plain sight of their lord. He made his reports as brief and efficient as possible after he once saw Zagreus dash by during one of them and the feeling that had arisen in his breast at the sight of him caused Cerberus - right at Hades’ side - to suddenly tilt each massive head as all three were suddenly crowned in thick, growing lilies. Hades had erupted, his gaze cast upon the shades, looking for a culprit. It was luck alone, or perhaps the heat of the god’s rage, that prevented those blooms from growing on him as well. But Achilles had seen.

With eyes so old, and so lonely, he had seen.

*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*

“If I may be so bold, Master Death, I am here if ever you need a sympathetic ear,” Achilles once said, somehow managing to sneak up on him at his balcony. By the skin of his teeth, Thanatos managed not to startle visibly. But he could not hide the spider lily that was in his hands, the very cause that had left him so lost in thought as he had braced himself over the balcony that hung above the river - waiting, though he refused to admit it, for Zagreus’ return.

“There is nothing to be sympathetic for,” Thanatos forced himself to say simply, turning back to the river.

“There is always something to be sympathetic for,” Achilles had said in that soft way he said most things - so soft in death for a man so coated in blood in life - and came beside Thanatos to deposit something on the rail before he left with a gentle, “The offer stands, when you’re ready.”

Thanatos waited until the warrior’s quiet footsteps receded before he looked. There, upon the glittering marble of the balcony, was a tiny flower. Purple and plain, easy to hide.

A forget-me-not.

“Does it ever get easier?” Thanatos finally asked one day.

“No,” Achilles said, the gentle hush of his words like the breath of the breeze through meadow reeds, “But it does get easier to hide.”

*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*

“Than, wait!”

The pleading urgency in those words were the only thing that stayed Thanatos’ retreat. More and more, Thanatos realized he could deny the prince nothing. His only hope was to remove himself before Zagreus could ask anything of him. Today, he failed.

He turned only so much as to peek at Zagreus from over one cloaked shoulder, waiting. It was much as he could offer without that telling pang marching through his heart and wreathing them all in flowers. But he was learning, at least, thanks to Achilles.

“Yes, Zag?”

“I… I know there’s a lot unsaid between us. A lot to make up for. I… I know,” Zagreus said, elegant, and yet stammering. Endearing in that earnest way of his, so much so that Thanatos could not prevent the single bloom of red that began to grow in a nearby crack in Elysium’s walls, hidden in plain sight by the moss and tiny fragile flowers already native to the place.

Zagreus’ words slipped to silence, broken only by the sound of glass settling gently atop a nearby grassy, broken pillar. Thanatos turned slowly to regard it. A bulbous bottle, bottom heavy and filled with glittering amber liquid: Nectar. His gaze turned from the bottle to Zagreus, a frown so easily slipping onto his face to hide behind as he said, “Really, Zagreus? Nectar? As though that suddenly fixes all that lies between us? This is, what… a parting gift? The goodbye you never bothered to give me?”

His scorn made Zagreus wilt - the soft sunshine of his demeanor fading as though behind thick clouds. In the craggy wall, the spider lily wilted somewhat, shivering delicately.

“No, of course not. I simply found this and thought of you. Think nothing of it,” Zagreus said, his tone carefully masked and distant now. Further from him, just as Thanatos had planned, and yet this climb to their eventual final goodbye felt hollow, forced. Forced, because Thanatos had forced it.

“I never do,” he said, the death bells tolling his retreat as the flowers he left behind - spotting the walls of that chamber Zagreus lingered in - mournfully wilted around him.

*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*

“You are hurting, my son.”

Nyx’s voice was always a balm to him. Gentle and cool, like twinkling starlight. Not too harsh, not too loud, as living things were. Cold and distant, like himself, because he had been carved from her.

“I am fine,” he longed to say - but when had he ever been able to lie to her. But he couldn’t admit it, either. He merely looked away, hiding his grief behind sideways looks and long lashes. She reached for him. Her hands chill and welcome against the stony arch of his jaw and cheeks. Nyx’s thumb ran a smooth line over his cheeks, her face still and poignant, but her eyes telling.

“Just because you are Death, does not mean you cannot host Life within your heart, dear one. None of us are spared from feeling. It is perhaps the strongest force on this world - the bit of Life that nothing can wring out.”

“I do not wish to feel it, when it changes nothing,” Thanatos croaked, furious as his lashes grew misty without his consent. He had accepted what was to come, damn it, so why did the grief still feel so smothering?

“Grief changes nothing,” Nyx nodded solemnly, “But… It lets us know that if something can be changed, it is worth trying to change it.”

Thanatos leaned his jaw into the cup of her hands with a conflicted little frown.

“And if that change is not good for everyone?”

Realization bloomed in Nyx’s face like the flowers he could not prevent from growing to crown her starry head.

“Ah,” she said softly. “I see… Sometimes love is letting go…”

He wilted in her hands. A final confirmation, until her fingers went to pinch his chin lovingly and draw his gaze up to hers. Her eyes long and fathomless like the night sky, twinkling and watching.

“But usually... love is asking first, before those pains that go unsaid smother you both.”

Her pale hands rose to pick a red-tongued blossom from the crown that had grown in her hair and placed it delicately in the bowl she made of his hands; as though it were a baby bird. It glittered with fresh dew, with the tears he couldn’t quite stop from falling. Not here, in the safety of his mother’s arms. His tears were always safe in the cloak of night.

“Spider Lilies… It is said they grow at the site of final goodbyes,” Nyx intoned gently, “Others say they help Death guide spirits that have just passed into new lives.”

“The death of the past,” Thanatos said, each word carefully clinical and cold, as though distance could blunt their meaning.

She curled her own hands beneath the bowl of his and said, “They are also a symbol of rebirth, my child. Or perhaps more importantly, they are an opportunity, as everything is.”

Thanatos frowned lightly, his gaze rising to meet hers once more.

“I don’t understand.”

Nyx smiled a soft, tiny smile - as bright as any moonlight - and leaned forward to kiss his forehead tenderly, lips brushing against his skin as she spoke onto him, “Life, and all its decisions, are merely a matter of perspective, my son. It is not too late to change yours.”

*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*

Before, it felt naive to hope. Hope was a foolish, mortal feeling; Thanatos knew better. Hope always faded in Death, so how could Death ever possibly foster it? And yet, his mother had never once lied to him. Beneath the light of her moon and her stars, all was made plain.

So when he tolled the bells to go to him, Thanatos allowed himself to look at Zagreus the way he had not allowed himself to before. With hope.

Zagreus had grown. As they faced off in the halls of Elysium in a quest to one up the other in battle, Thanatos found himself willingly distracted by the developed grace in Zagreus’ fighting. His posture had changed. He no longer zipped blindly across the field in a rage, trying to win by brute force. He was calm, calculated. He had changed.

Zagreus marked every trap in his mind. Every swing of his blade - new, now, one he had unlocked and partnered with - brought the shades of the underworld to heel. He marched them where he wanted them, whether that was to a swift death beneath his swing or onto a trap. He fought with a tactician’s coolness. He no longer wasted his energy. He no longer showed up to these battles covered in foreboding wounds.

He was growing. Getting closer to his goal. Which meant Thanatos, of course, was running out of time. And no one understood the gravity of the hourglass’ shifting sands quite like Death. Time, as always, was of the essence.

“Zagreus,” Thanatos said, hovering near the heart that he normally tended to simply leave behind as a parting gesture ever since Zagreus’ attempt to treat him to a gift. It was obvious the prince had not been expecting him to stay, reaching as he had been immediately for whatever god’s boon had been promised in this chamber. But the moment the prince heard his voice, the man had all but sprinted to him, and the eager warmth that had inspired in his chest caused a red blossom to bloom at Zagreus’ feet when finally he stopped before him.

“Than? I wasn’t expecting you to stay,” Zagreus said, all eagerness. Always eagerness to move on - to the world above, to a world beyond their fight.

“I wasn’t either,” Thanatos agreed, overwhelmed by the discomfort that immediately began to rise in him. He had known it would come. It had fueled many of this retreats. But nothing would ever change, if he continued to allow it to smother him. He just had hoped knowing that would make it easier , somehow. Yet he felt he could barely breathe, let alone cherrypick the words he wanted. Silence hung between them. Flowers pebbled the ground that separated them. But patiently, Zagreus simply waited. As though time were no burden to him. As though the hourglass of fate was not an enemy, but a friend.

“I know you intend to go to the world above,” Thanatos said, searching desperately for the words and finding every single one lacking. “I… I know you intend to stay there. You need answers, I know that… But before you do, I just wanted to say… She abandoned you, Zagreus. But we never have. We are your family, if you ask me. I won’t stop you from going, but… I just felt it needed to be said.”

“Than,” Zagreus started slowly, and Thanatos waited for the blow: you are not my family. You are not important. You are my past. This is not my home.

He had told himself to hear Zagreus out. He had told himself that this closure - however painful - would make everything easier. Clearer. Yet faced with this final stroke of fate, he found he couldn’t bear to hear it. Before Zagreus could collect his thoughts, Thanatos placed a crystal butterfly upon a broken stone pillar just as Zagreus had once done and said in a quick murmur, “Let it never be said that I don’t repay my debts,” before he left, like a coward.

Death, cowed by the thought of love spurned. Or perhaps, cowed by the thought of living. His offered keepsake framed in a lush bloom of red spider lilies, kept company by Zagreus’ soft, regretful sigh in Thanatos’ absence.

“Oh, Than…”

*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*

Zagreus made it topside. Thanatos could feel it in his bones, a soul that had forever been below the earth suddenly above - in his domain, among the fields of souls he was meant to reap. He felt him there, fragile after his fight with his father and yet soaring like an inferno with his victory.

Thanatos pulled down the bottle of Nectar he had kept for this moment. It had felt right to save it for this occasion, the gift a goodbye and yet also a salute to his prince’s victory. A victory he had helped the man achieve. He poured an ample glass, the liquid shimmering like a child of sunlight and starlight both, but as he rose the glass to toast Zagreus’ achievement, a soft and confused frown began to mar his lips.

Above, with every step and every second spent there, Thanatos felt that fire waning. The glass of nectar trembled lightly in his hand as his gaze became distant, his awareness fully above. Zagreus, stumbling through the world of Light and Life. Zagreus, reaching another soaring source of power - Persephone. Zagreus, waning. Zagreus, yearning, straining. Zagreus, breath stuttering.

Zagreus, dying.

The glass crashed to the ground without a hand to hold it, shattering, Nectar pooling.

*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*

Dead, as the boy had been dead. Thanatos did not wish to go to him. Did not wish to see him dead, here, among the place his prince had so dearly dreamed about. Did not wish to see him still and pale as only mortals deserved to be. Zagreus was a being of light and power and determination. He could not bear to see him beaten down to nothingness, just a husk of flesh and nothing more. Not here. Not in his mother’s garden, so close to the answers he had sought for so long…

But to love was to suffer.

He went to him. Kneeled beside the prince, allowing his own body to touch the earth, unheeding of how it killed the very grass he touched. His fingers went to cup Zagreus’ face. To prepare him for the journey home again, and as he did, the man’s body became haloed in deep, crimson flowers. Sprouting, uncontrolled and thick. Thanatos could not stop them, could not be bothered to stop them. It was effort enough to see him like this, let alone hide his own weakness.

He had forgotten there were still eyes there to witness it.

“Thanatos,” Persephone said, appearing from around the corner of the house with a death shawl for her son and coins for his eyes. She froze, her eyes not on him or her son, but on the flowers that surrounded them.

“Oh Thanatos ,” he whispered thickly, brows twisted. Looking upon them mournfully - she, the woman who had abandoned her son and then somehow enticed him away from his family below.

“Don’t worry, I won’t touch your garden,” Thanatos said stonily, thinking she feared the spreading of the dead grass from his knees.

“Thanatos, wait--”

But they were gone, he and Zagreus both, leaving nothing but a patch of dead grass and the outline of her son in bloody, crimson flowers. The blossoms trembling in tandem with the spatterings of red that had begun to grow uncontrollably throughout her garden.

“It was you,” she whispered to no one. “They’re yours.”

*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*

Once, of course, was not enough. There are still questions that need answering, and Zagreus has nothing but time to throw himself at the mercy of the gauntlet between the Underworld and the mortal realm above again and again and again. Every victory means only one thing: another tragic death so close to his goal above. And yet, Thanatos cannot help but assist him. Even if it means cradling that larger-than-life body suddenly made so small by death and escorting him back down below. Even if it means being the very vessel that takes his prince from his goal, he will help him get there once more, once more, once more.

The hourglass has been refilled, if only for a while more. If anyone can figure out a way to stay among the Living, it will be Zagreus. Zagreus, who did the unthinkable and escaped the underworld. Zagreus, who found the mother that had abandoned him. He’ll do it, Thanatos knows it just as keenly as he knows the last beat of a mortal’s fragile heart.

But he’ll gladly cherish every extra grain of sand in the hourglass he’s been given.

*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*

“I’ve missed this,” Zagreus says after one of their dual bloodbaths in the halls of Elysium. This level of the Underworld is his favorite one to go to Zagreus in. It means their momentary glimmer of peace after the fight is flush with soft grass and pleasing greens and all the Life that Zagreus deserves. And perhaps, when Zagreus is gone, Thanatos can enjoy a sip of the river to forget. He never will, he knows. It’s selfish, foolhardy and probably impossible for someone like him. But sometimes, he likes to entertain the idea that he could forget, and be free of the blossoms that constantly remind him of what he cannot have.

Thanatos turns to him, taking his time to take in the lines that make up the nostalgic expression of Zagreus’ face as he catches his breath there, sitting among the white flowers of Elysium’s fields. White and nearly like his own.

“Missed what? We do this all the time, how could you have missed this?” Thanatos asked.

“Not the fight. This . Us,” Zagreus said. “This just reminds me of how we were before I began my escapes.”

“Simpler times,” Thanatos frowned, unable to swallow the bitterness that suddenly rose in his throat. “But you chose to complicate them, Zagreus.”

He understood why, now; but that didn’t mean he didn’t resent it in his weakest moments. He waited for Zagreus to defend himself. For that bitterness to rise in Thanatos to ruin the moment, as it often did. He’d flee, and he’d waste his precious remaining grains of sand - he could see it all already, unfolding, until Zagreus brought a halt to his spiraling thoughts as only he could.

“I don’t know why this has turned into picking who I love, Than. Wanting to find my mother doesn’t mean I love anyone else any less. Everyone acts as if I’m choosing my mother over everything and everyone else. Even you.”

“Are you not?” Thanatos asked, dreading the answer.

Yet Zagreus simply looked at him, red flowers blooming in his hair, and said, “If you’re asking me who I’d choose between you or my mother, Than, my answer is this: I never intended to settle for one at all.”

Thanatos blew out a frustrated breath even as his heart soared in a way he hadn’t thought Death’s heart could, trembling like a rabbit against his ribs.

“That’s naive to say, don’t you think, Zag?”

“Says who?”

*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*

It’s all a matter of perspective, my child.

*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*

One day, Zagreus went topside. Thanatos prepared to go to him, to collect him, but the moment never came. Death felt the prince’s heart begin to flatter as mortal hearts did, and yet the final throbbing beat never came. In fact, it stabilized. It stabilized and grew nearer. Nearer and nearer still, adrift on the river with his brother. Not just his brother, but another too. Life was flowing down the river to the Underworld.

The Queen was returning.

Thanatos leaned bonelessly back into his lounge, feeling shaky with stunned, overwhelming relief as spider lilies rose around him like a cushion because Zagreus was coming home with Persephone.

Zagreus was coming home of his own free will.

*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*

Life in the Underworld improves. As though Persephone were a sun and the Underworld a withered garden without her, things steadily improved with her return. Cerberus pressed eagerly into the touch of her hand. The halls seemed brighter, warmer. Even Achilles seemed a little less sad, and Hades - oh Hades - it was as though he were steadily becoming a different man altogether. A softer man, gentled by her touch. His thorns shorn short, his rough and callous words turned to roses lush and hearty; though suddenly kind was a stretch to say, he was certainly safer to speak to now.

The court was alight with how Persephone’s presence was changing everything for the better. But all Thanatos could think was that none of this would have been possible if not for Zagreus, who had lassoed the sun herself and brought her back to them against all odds.

If Persephone was the sun, Zagreus was the lifeblood of this place.

*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*

The hourglass had been halted. There was no beginning, no end, and once again Death was no longer shackled by the wasteful ticking of time. But the flowers did not lessen, did not disappear. They trailed after him, and though he had gotten better at hiding it, he knew that Persephone knew. Flowers were her children, after all; how could she not know?

“You should talk to him, Thanatos. If nothing else, Zagreus has taught me this: what you assume will happen is never definite,” she said to him one day, cradling a wayward spider lily that had suspiciously grown in her garden - startlingly white. He wondered when that had started or why.

“Perhaps I will. Thank you, my lady,” Thanatos said gently.

She smiled at him, her thumbs so gentle with the bloom’s petals, making the little flower shiver happily, and said, “I hope you do.”

*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*

Thanatos had paced the length of his balcony many times now, each with a stumbling aborted attempt to head in the direction of Zagreus’ chambers. He tried to ignore the knowing weight of Achilles’ watchful gaze by the mirrors. Tried to ignore the thunderous fear of his heart or the way the lilies just kept blooming around him in fitful bursts.

Go to him , his heart said.

But what if you ruin everything , his mind howled, Now, when things are finally peaceful.

But is peace the same as happiness? His heart asked. Is that all you wanted? Could it be enough?

It certainly hurt less than being wrong, his mind said.

If that were true, then why are the flowers still blooming?

Little Deaths, the Pining Flowers. Could he truly be content, if they still found the soil of his heart so rich to bloom in?

*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*

“Take it from a fool who waited,” Achilles said as a tiny purple blossom grew in the tuck of his hair behind his ear, “Nothing risked, nothing earned.”

*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*

This time, when Thanatos went to Zagreus in the fields of Elysium, he cleaved the souls of the dead down in one impatient stroke - knowing that if he did not act fast, he would not act at all.

Zagreus let out a startled huff of a laugh, his hand son his hips as he turned to Thanatos with a confused, if amused, “Well that was hardly sporting, Than! Have you been going easy on me all this time?”

But that expression fell, muted and worried, when Zagreus finally caught sight of Thanatos’ face.

“Than?” He asked.

“Please, don’t--” Thanatos said, holding up a hand to halt the prince’s words, “Just… listen. I… I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this for some time, but the words elude me, even now.”

Zagreus brought his blade down into the grass and let it rest then, his full attention him upon Thanatos in a way so direct, so overwhelming, Thanatos felt that urge to run rise in him again.

It was the memory Achilles’ gaze - heavy and knowing - that held him fast. Sympathetic, envious and frustrated. Frustrated, because Zagreus was within reach, and Thanatos risked nothing.

He did not want to have eyes like Achilles had. He wanted to Live.

“I hate you, when you first left,” Thanatos blundered forward. “I thought you were done with me. That I wasn’t good enough. I didn’t blame you either. What could I offer you, that you couldn’t have up there? What’s Death to Life?”

“Than--”

“Please, Zag… Let me finish or I never will,” Thanatos whispered. “I hated you. Or I thought I did… but these… All of these?”

He held up a hand, a red lily immediately blooming at his call to hold between them.

“These are yours, Zagreus. All of them, every single one. Because I missed you. Because I could not stop thinking of you, worrying for you, wanting you.”

Zagreus stilled, and something akin to paleness stole over his tanned flesh. Thanatos knew, then, he’d never have him. How could Life love Death? But he continued onward, if for nothing but closure. If for nothing but to say he risked it all, he tried.

“It’s childish, foolish, reckless even - but I… I’m utterly helpless, Zagreus. You’ve made me, made Death , helpless in want for you. In loving you, I…” his breath left him in a soft, rattling wheeze as finally he admitted - with the certainty that the sword cleaves flesh - “I love you, and… I’m glad you came home.”

He waited for the blow. Waited for the moment that would wring that last breath of hope from his lungs, and he wondered if this is what mortals felt like, waiting for him. For Death.

But he waited, and waited, and it never came. Zagreus merely stood dumbfounded, something wet growing on his sooty bottom lashes, before finally he stepped forward and did what Thanatos had always been too afraid to do.

He kissed him.

Perspective, his mother had said. He had thought she meant decisions, but it was so much more than that. This moment was a perspective he thought he’d never have - could never fathom . Life, warm and bright against his lips. Flowing through him in a circle, like a cycle that never ended, life and death and life and death. He closed his eyes and Zagreus reached up to bring him down, closer to the ground - to him - and wound gentle fingers into silver hair.

Around them, flowers bloomed in the hall of Elysium - blood and bone, red and white, cascading in a sheet to cover the chamber around them. Pushing out and out and out until nothing was left but the Spider Lilies singing brilliantly in the breeze around them. Zagreus drew Thanatos down like an anchor, floating feet brushing finally against petal softness, but nothing wilted from his touch. It was as though those flowers had always been waiting for both of them, every petal glimmering and shining now that the cycle of Life and Death had finally been made whole.

“I love you,” Zagreus said between desperate presses of chaste lips, speaking against Thanatos’ surprised mouth as though the words might possess them both, “And I’m so grateful you waited for me.”

Without Life, Death does not exist. Without Death, Life is not Life at all. For one is needed for the other to exist. Otherwise, there is Nothing.

*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*:–☆–:*

Zagreus had hidden all of his blooms in his chamber, of all things, knowing that no one went there. Not even Dusa, who was not allowed to clean Hades’ “ungrateful mongrel of a son”’s room. So there, they had remained safely hidden. Bone white blooms, ivory tongues drooping in such familiar ways to the crimson petals that followed Thanatos everywhere.

“Why did you never say?” Thanatos asked one day, as they lay side by side in a carpet of their flowers, fingers entwined together, nearly nose to nose.

“I did not want to frighten you away,” Zagreus laughed.

“And how did you prevent them from growing on me? I can’t stop the blasted things from appearing everywhere?” Thanatos asked.

Zagreus laughed again and repeated, “Because I did not want to frighten you away.”

Thanatos turned to him, arm braced so he could hover over Zagreus face with a gentle smile.

“And now that I am still here?” He asked warmly.

Zagreus reached up to brush a lock of silvery hair behind Thanatos’ ear, held back with a white lily to keep it in place, and said, “I’m glad that I was wrong.”

Thanatos smiled as red lilies bloomed to frame his prince’s head in a crown. Thick and regal, as he deserved. His mark upon the man. His prince, his love. It stirred a primal satisfaction deep in his belly as he leaned down to kiss Zagreus and say, “I’m glad we both were wrong.”

So they were reborn, there in a bed of white and red spider lilies - flowers that had guided them to new Life.

[shirtlesssammy]

15x19: Inherit the Earth

We’re down to the end, and guys, I’m not ready. :(

Then:

THEY’RE IN LOVE

Now:

The world is empty.

Sam and Jack wander the empty streets. Dean pulls up in the Impala (still wearing his jacket with Cas’s bloody handprint. BRB CRYING.) Everyone’s gone. Dean tells the others that it’s Chuck that did this. Jack asks the IMPORTANT question: “Where’s Cas?” Dean looks down and hesitates, but eventually says, “He saved me.” He tells them the cliff’s notes version of what happened while shoving down A MILLION feelings of regret and loss and I want to hug him. “Cas is gone,” he finishes, and hahahahahahahahah NOPE. Sam, in disbelief, calls his side-ship Jody. No answer. 

They head to an empty sports bar (AND WHAT I WOULD DO TO GO TO A BAR WITH FRIES AND TVs AND BEER RIGHT NOW). Jack stays outside and prays to Cas. He gets nothing and starts walking. All the flowers start to wilt as he passes them. WHAT IS HAPPENING? 

Sam blames himself and is done. They decide to meet with Chuck.

They tell him that they’ll play his little game. They’ll kill each other. Dean demands that they put everything back to normal first, though. “The people, the birds, Cas.” All of it. (WEEPING.)

Dean, DEAN, Cas doesn’t want to be in a world where you don’t exist. 

Yeah, Chuck doesn’t care. He’s really into the brothers' suffering alone story. “That’s deep, that’s sophisticated, that’s a page turner.” Oh, Chuck, you dumb bastard. 

Cut to the bunker where they’re all suffering on their own. Jack wallows in his room. Sam wanders the halls, and Dean lays passed out on a bottle of liquor in the library. Sam finds Dean in the library, and Jack soon joins them to tell them that he’s sensing another presence in the world. 

They head to a gas station. Dean heads for the bathroom, and hears a whimpering. IT’S A DOG. And Dean’s so happy to have found him. He names the dog Miracle. 

Dean brings the dog out to show Sam. He tells him that Miracle is coming home with them. I AM DYING. Sam is shocked. Dean tells him not to worry because he’ll only let him ride shotgun if Sam is cool with it. Lol. 

Of course, all good things must end. And Miracle dusts like everything else in existence. Dean looks around and sees Chuck giving him a smarmy salute. F U C K  O F F,  C H U C K. Dean doesn’t even like dogs, so there. (The patented Robert Singer ZOOM tells me that Dean does indeed care about dogs.) 

(Sidenote: The dog is Cas, right? Dean’s beyond happy to see it. And is ready to let it sit shotgun, but only if Sam’s okay with it. And he’s REALLY upset that they can’t “save a dog”. Just thinking thoughts.) 

They head to a church. 

Once they’re in the church of very dangerously burning candles, they’re greeted by Michael. 

Michael tells them that he’s been chilling here to avoid Chuck’s notice. Adam is gone. (RIP Winchester brother that never got a chance.) Michael monologs a bit about humans and stuff. Dean recognizes a little soldier when he sees one. Michael wants to help though. 

Back at the bunker, Sam shows him Death’s book on God. Michael tries opening the book with no luck. (Sidenote: The DRAMA of the lights being lower is killing me.) 

*Dean is In Love Alert*

The brothers take a moment alone in the dark kitchen. 

Dean gets a call. 

Dean takes the call and because he’s a precious bean that actually believes what he’s hearing. Cas is at the bunker. He’s outside. He’s hurt. 

Dean takes off like a rocket AND I’M DYING. BBY BOY. NO. 

It’s not Cas. It’s Lucifer. 

UGH. 

(DOUBLE UGH.)

(INFINITY UGH.)

Yeah, Lucifer totally sees what’s between Dean and Cas and gains access to the bunker because of that. Coolcoolcoolcoolcool. 

He tells the brothers that the Empty kicked him out to finish Chuck. He brought a reaper to prove to the brothers that he’s good people (NOT.) 

Betty is bound and gagged. (Because WHY NOT DO THAT TO A WOMAN, Buckleming.) Lucifer then kills her. (Because WHY NOT DO THAT TO A WOMAN, Buckleming.) 

Betty is the new Death! 

(Sorrynotsorry for the lack of pictures. I think we all know why.) 

She asks for the book. If they give it to her, she can read it. 

They set her up in the dungeon reading room, and she doesn’t need helpers. 

Meanwhile, Lucifer is playing cards and there’s ZERO interaction with Jack and him. AND I AM LIVING. Like, it’s 100% clear that Jack isn’t his son and he does not see him as a father. Jack’s father is dead. AND I AM LIVING. (But also sad because Cas is dead.) 

Lucifer does interact with Michael though. Michael does not trust his brother.

Betty pops up with the book and the end of God. Lucifer ashes her with a snap of his fingers. 

(HOW?!>!>?)

Wherps, he grabs the book from her and reveals his hand. He’s working with Chuck.   

Lucifer and MIchael battle it out. Jack watches. Lucifer tries to convince Jack to join the losing team.

Michael stabs Lucifer with an archangel blade. Mercifully, there are no haughty speeches or further peacocking between these two. Lucifer sparks out, gone at last. GOOD RIDDANCE.

Later, Dean has a heart to heart with Michael in the kitchen. Michael’s reeling that Chuck brought Lucifer back from the dead instead of seeking him out. But he’s definitely NOT BITTER, NOPE. 

Dean reveals that Chuck’s book is open and full of mysterious Enochian symbols. Sam’s going to translate those, and figure out how Chuck dies, so they can start knocking down some dominoes!

In the library later, Sam reveals that he’s uncovered a spell to stop Chuck. (Jack was researching nephilim on the computer! Jack bby) When complete, the spell will unleash an “unstoppable force” against Chuck. They head out to a special location, light the spell, and it sends three bright beams of power into the sky.

But the spell explodes. They look up to find Chuck standing there. Chuck...chucks the Winchesters and Jack away. He thanks Michael for tipping him off. “It’s always been my destiny to serve you,” Michael tells him. But that’s not enough for Chuck to forgive him for siding with the Winchesters even once. Chuck fractures Michael into light. The last archangel bites the dust.

He turns his attention to the Winchesters. It’s time to finish them. He’s canceling the show. At the last minute, he decides it’ll be more fun to beat them to death instead of snapping them out of existence. It’s……..YIKES PRETTY BRUTAL TO WATCH. “Just stay down,” he counsels them - practically begs them. But they won’t stop. Broken and bleeding, they hold each other up against him.

Sam laughs at Chuck’s confusion. “You lose,” he tells him. Behind Chuck, the camera pans to Jack. 

Chuck tries to snap Jack dead but his snapper isn’t working.

Jack lays his hands on Chuck and golden power streams from Chuck into Jack. Jack snaps his fingers once, and the Winchesters are healed. As they say in the industry...suck it, Chuck. 

Sam drops Death’s book in front of Chuck, but the pages are blank. Only Death can even SEE anything in the book (making the whole “can’t open book covers” thing into nothing but a drama llama move). The Winchesters came up with a plan B and spout this in a quick exposition dump.

Michael was jealous of Lucifer being “chosen” by Chuck

They made up the story of a spell, so Michael would tell Chuck

Jack’s “bomb” quest turned him into a power vacuum - thus the dying plants

When Michael and Lucifer fought in the bunker, the power exchange charged Jack back to full nephilim strength

Chuck killing Michael and beating on the Winchesters allowed Jack to absorb god-power

“This is why you’re my favorites,” Chuck gasps. He doesn’t know what happens next, but he’s ready to die “at the hands of Sam Winchester. Of Dean Winchester, the ultimate killer.”

And. Babies. Sweeties. I know that there are lots of people who have problems with this episode but THIS! THIS. This next line makes it all worth it. Because Dean tells him, “See, that’s not who I am. That’s not who we are.” He took how Castiel sees him and he planted that damn seed in his own heart and watered it even in the depths of despair and now it’s so mighty a force that he just walks away from their lifelong tormentor. GUYS. I LOVE IT. I’m so emotional right now.

Jack confirms that Chuck won’t get his powers back. “It’s not his power anymore.” And AGAIN I am emotional thinking about fanfiction and fanart and giving this show to us when it’s all done. Ahem. Anyway. Chuck’s gonna grow old and die and be forgotten like every single human. (Ooookay that got a little dark, but I’ll allow it. This is a “to the pain” speech, after all.)

Chuck begs for them not to leave him, reduced to sniveling panic in the Impala’s dust cloud.

The Winchesters head back to a small, empty town. Jack closes his eyes in the sunshine as “Get Together” by the Youngbloods croons across the scenes. People return to the world and it’s gentle and beautiful - everyone returning to their day-to-day. “Come on people now, smile on your brother!” the song implores. 

Love is but a song to sing Fear's the way we die You can make the mountains ring Or make the angels cry Though the bird is on the wing And you may not know why

Come on people now Smile on your brother Everybody get together Try to love one another Right now

And look. I know this is just a song, and this is just a show. But this is my hope for this show and these characters - steeped in darkness for so long. And this is my hope for our actual real world too. It’s hard for me to separate the two so YES I’M CRYING AS I TYPE THIS. May this song lead us into the next episode and destroy me in a fountain of hopeful light.

Erm. anyway. Miracle the dog runs into the scene! It IS a damn miracle! Dean and Sam are so proud of Jack! Jack confirms that Amara is with him and they’re in harmony. I’m so happy that Amara got a happy peaceful forever after with her nougat nephilim grand-nephew. Dean assumes that Jack’s coming back to the bunker with them. He’s top dog, “he can do whatever he wants now.” (And readers, I like that Dean says whatever “he wants” and not whatever the Winchesters want. I think it shows personal growth!)

Jack declines. He’s already home - he’s everywhere and everything. “I’ll be in every drop of falling rain. In every speck of dust that the wind blows. And in the sand, the rocks, and the sea.” Jack doesn’t want to lead people, or be prayed or sacrificed to. He wants to let them discover the truth in their own hearts, in their own time. “Chuck put himself in the story. That was his mistake. But I learned from you and my mother and Castiel that when people have to be their best - they can be. And that’s what to believe in.” I have to say, I was fervently against Jack-as-God until it happened. But just like everything to do with Jack, once it happens I just go...okay, cool. I’m on board!

In the bunker, Dean and Sam drink beer and comment on the quiet. “To everyone that we lost along the way,” Dean toasts. Sam realizes that they can write their own story now. “Just us,” he says (and it sounds like a bleak echo in the empty bunker). Behind them, the table has SW, DW, MW, Jack, and Castiel engraved and...MY HEART.

The Winchesters leave to go find out what freedom feels like and we get a montage of past scenes from the show, and characters we loved or loved to hate. Jackson Browne’s “Running on Empty” plays us off in sweet, mournful nostalgia.

The Winchesters drive into a sepia-tinged world. This episode is like my Thanksgiving plate mid-meal - all mashed together for faster plot consumption. But on a rewatch, there’s a lot to like too! It’s a goodbye to one story...

And we leave nostalgia behind. It’s time for them to figure out their own story and I AM SO EXCITED to see what happens next! (Lays some nougat candy bars on my altar for Andrew Dabb for one last vigil.)

WHERE’S THE QUOTES?

Where’s Cas?

Who’ve thought finding a dog would feel like a miracle? C’mon, Miracle!

What’s an ending?

Eternal suffering sounds good on paper, but as a viewing experience it’s just kinda...meh

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[thevoilinauttheory]

survivin’

[ FFxivWrite 2021 Prompt 8: Adroit ]

The Five Part “In the Dreams of Ashley” series is done! Go read the others here! {Prelude} {In the Dreams of Ashley: The Wind} {In the Dreams of Ashley: The Fire} {In the Dreams of Ashley: The Water} {In the Dreams of Ashley: The Earth}

[ HEAVY HEAVY CONTENT WARNINGS: implied child abuse/assault, detailed suffocation, detailed burial while alive, heavy grief and regret surrounding death ]

[ video has lots of moving colors ]

Dreaming about being buried alive is very frightening and is a warning that all of the things in your life that are causing you anxiety and despair should be thrown away. You have let things build up to a point that you are no longer able to control anything and now you risk being completely destroyed.

==

Ashley was forced into a uniform with little knowledge as to why, having just woken up with a raging headache and handcuffs on. Confused was an understatement. “Y’good?” There was a soft voice that addressed him, a soft voice that belonged to a large man. His hand set on his shoulder, some level of comfort and grounding while he gathered his bearings. “Wh-What’s goin’ on?” “Y’don’t know?” “Pretty sure the knot on th’back o’ my head answers that.” The man let out a laugh, then nodded. “Guess so. Yer bein’ conscripted.” “Conscripted? How in the hells!” Ashley pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a sigh… he should have been more upset about this, but honestly, it felt like the worst kind of inconvenience. Still, he didn’t fight it, worked with the flow of everything as he usually did. “Guess I’m stuck here.” “We all’re, friend.” “What’s your name, friend?” He snorted. “Hunter. Ya’?” “Ashley.” “Nice t’meet ya’ Ashley, too bad it ain’t on better terms.” He nodded in response.

-

“Yer gonna get caught.” Ashley chuckled. “I never get caught. That’s the thing ‘bout growin’ up in Ul’dah.” “Mm.” “Hand me your rations.” “Are y’kiddin’? I ain’t givin’ y’anythin’!” “Sure? Thought y’wanted to get out o’ here, same as me. N’if y’do, you’re gonna have t’give ‘em to me.” “Why?” “Uh… food to last us until we get home?” “N’how ‘bout the energy they’re makin’ us use t’fight?” Ashley snatched Hunter’s rations from him, stuffing them into a tight and inconspicuous corner with the rest of all of the little items he managed to get away with - some string, blades, pins, badges; even things like hair-ties and pens. Anything he could get away with shoving in his pocket, he did so. He bumped his elbow back into Hunter and lowered his voice. “Get somewhere else, someone’s ‘bout to come in.” “Eh? How’d’y’know?” “I’ll tell you later, jus’ get or we’re gonna get caught.” Hunter backed off, going back to his own belongings to check them off; leaving Ashley to slide a sizeable block of concrete in front of the hole in the wall, covering it completely. “Tucker!” “Yes, sir!” “What are you doing on the floor, get your arse up now.” “Sorry, sir! I dropped my badge.” He stood up, adjusting the collar of his uniform with a small pin on it.

-

“How are we going to get past them? Did you even think that far through?” The Auri woman that had joined along prodded at him while he was thinking. “Will you shut it?”

Four of them clamored and cramped in the vents, waiting for a good time to drop out of them. They were dressed in different uniforms, to match those of the area they were about to infiltrate. When an opening arose, he dropped out of the vent, brushed off his clothes, then pretended to idly look at the schedule board that was on the wall. Well, he was looking at it, but also waiting for another good time to signal another body. He tapped his chin, stretched his arms above his head as the last person in the hall walked past him - he held up a signed “C”, and waved his hand. That let the other two know to let Colette drop down first, she did just the same - brushing out her uniform before striking up an uninteresting conversation about the schedule.

They waited for the hallway to clear again. She held her thumb and forefinger together and waved, signaling Ruta to come down next. As the next crowd came through, she pretended to be scolding them. It cleared, Ashley waved, and down came Hunter. Hunter always came last - he wasn’t the best actor or liar, so they made sure that he could be ready to move immediately. They walked down the hall, past many unsuspecting soldiers and medics, until they were able to escape the facility they were locked up in. “Oh, thank gods.” Hunter let out a sigh of relief at the fresh air, no matter how cold it was. “Sh. We ain’t there yet. There’s still the entire damned city. Make sure your bags are on tight, n’if not, fasten them. I mean it. Y’gotta be ready to book it once we get through.” “What are we going to do after?” The question was, thankfully, vague enough to not alarm anyone they were passing by; but Colette anxiously gripped the shoulder belt to her bag. “Hoof it.” “On land? All the way back?” Ruta folded her arms over her chest. “I’ve worked it out already, trust me.”

-

“How in the hells did you manage that!” Ruta laughed as she ran across the snow, outside the metal confines of Garlemald. “It’s cold, but kami, it’s free!” “I came prepared.” “Is that why your bag is larger than ours.” “Yeah. Managed to snatch a few uniforms and some blankets. We’ve got a long way to walk - most of it’s dead here. No life whatsoever, just snow. Ruta, yer on the way back first.” “Wait… is that why we’re walking?” “Aye. Othard connects here - stowing away on a ship or airship would skip over you entirely. So prepare t’get intimate with one another, ‘cause we’re gonna need a lot of body heat.” Ruta stopped and blinked at him. “...Thank you.” “You can thank me when y’get home. After Ruta, we’re going to stowaway on a merchant vessel - it’ll look more Garlean than Hingan, but it’s goin’ to get hijacked by pirates from Limsa. Which is how we get Hunter home. After that, Colette n’I’re gonna hitch a ship back t’Vesper Bay, and I’ll walk her back home.” They all seemed… shocked. Appalled, even. That this stranger would go out of his way to know so much about the way back, and that he’d help them even. “Where’re y’goin’ after that?” Hunter pat Ruta’s shoulder to get her moving again. “Mm. Back home, maybe. I dunno. Maybe I can get a job like this.” He laughed.

==

“Mister?” “Mm?” Ashley looked up from his book, pipe hanging loosely from his mouth as his eyes caught a young girl standing next to him. Her face was red from crying, and looking over her clothes brought back memories and images he wished he didn’t have.

“...Need help?” His voice lowered, to not draw attention. She nodded, and he stood up from his seat to pull off his jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders - it was obviously too large, but that was the point. He pulled a hair-tie from his pocket to tie back her hair, so that its general style was different at a glance. He lifted her up to sit in the chair, having her hold the book up as if she were reading it. He placed his arm on the back of the chair, talking random nonsense about words in the book to the girl as his eyes caught a glimpse of several people walking in, looking around for something or someone. When he noticed the girl’s grip on the book tightened, he figured those were the people she was hiding from. He placed his hand on one of hers, holding the book up as well - and he kept his voice just as low.

“Relax… don’t show any tension. If they see white knuckles, they’ll get suspicious.” She did just that, nodding slowly. “Okay… uhm.” She was afraid her voice would be recognizable if she spoke, so she kept it low. “What’s this word mean?” “Eh?” He looked back at the book, noting she was just pointing at the word “the”, to which he smiled - she was trying to play along with him. “That word? Oh! That’s a name, sweetheart. I know, all them Elezen got such fancy names, y’could swear y’saw ‘em in a dictionary.” They kept on like that until he saw all of those same people leave. “There y’go. All gone. Need someplace safe t’stay?” “Mm..” She didn’t trust like that, and he noticed. He laughed, waving one of his hands. “Not with me. I have a friend who takes care of children goin’ through what you are. I can make sure y’get there with no problem. Unless you’ve got a place? I can take you wherever you need most.” She smiled a little bit, nodding. “Someplace safe… sounds nice.” “Good! Now up y’get. I’ll look inta these people that hurt you, okay?”

==

He stared down at those graves, the ones he made; carved up of nothing but rocks and dirt, with desert blooms laid in place. All the thoughts welled up there - what he could have done, what could have gone better. Memories of all the times they had, wondering why he never said more. A lot of things were left unsaid - Ruta never got to propose to Colette, they never got to choose the colors of their wedding, or what flowers, what food and drinks; they never got to dance, and the last sight of each other wasn’t even a damned smile!

He cursed himself silently.

Hunter never got to go on about his newest niece, never got to tell the unheard stories of his family, never got to see the world as much as he dreamed, never got into a bar fight with a pirate; that the last he’d see of him was a damned smile! He never got to tell him-- He never got to tell them…

Ashley stared at the graves and knew…. this wasn’t how it was supposed to end.

He sat down in the dirt in front of them, offering some vague notion of a smile. “Y’won’t believe me. I know it. But… helped someone out today. Didn’t turn ‘em down. Didn’t make any snarky comments or nothin’. ‘Member that time out in the eastside of La Nocsea? It was like that, unfortunately. But, despite their faults n’corrupt nature, got the Blades t’clear ‘em all out after trackin’ ‘em to wherever they were hidin’.”

He let out a soft sigh. “...I miss y’all. So much. Y’meant so much to me. I was jus’ s’posed to take y’all home… n’y’stayed with me. You were my family… everythin’ I had. N’I… n’I jus’...” He shook his head. “I wish I could’ve done more. I… I… I love y’all, with all I could. Each n’every one o’ya’. I… never got t’tell you that. I hope… wherever y’are now… you know that. I’ll keep livin’ on, keep y’strong. Yer memories aren’t wasted, aren’t gone. Not yet. I’ll be damned if your story don’t get heard, though.”

He closed his eyes for just a moment

He snapped awake, not upright; he laid flat and stared at the pitch darkness in front of him. The bed below him was hard - it felt more like a floor. Wasn’t he in the dirt before? He could’ve sworn he was outside but a few seconds ago. It must’ve been a bad trip, lost all sense of time and ended up wherever he was now. All he had to do was find his stuff. He tried to sit up, only to slam his head on a short ceiling. “Augh… ow…” He tried to rub the spot he hit, only for his arm to scrape a wall right beside him. What was going on? He placed his hands flat on the shallow ceiling, feeling around - it was wood - he tried to find some means of escaping. There must’ve been a latch *somewhere*. One hand lowered to his pocket… most, if not all, of his gear and possessions were stripped of him; though he pat around to find an assortment of objects in the corners of his prison. When his hand landed on a lighter, it immediately lit up.

A coffin. Was he dead? Had they found him and buried him with his family? Did he… even want to be dead? The response of him slamming his hands on the lid and screaming for someone answered that question. There must’ve been a mistake, he wasn’t dead - he wasn’t! There was no way, none of this could be real. Dirt fell in between the cracks of the splintering shell he was incased in, no one was going to come. No one could hear him. He could feel the tears at his cheeks, the deepest recesses of his mind coming forward.

He didn’t want to die. He wasn’t ready to join them. “Gods, please… please…” He hoped some entity would come forth to dig him up and let him breathe. It was getting hot, he could barely catch his breath; like something stuck in his throat. He tried to cry for help again, met with the same silence. He could feel the blood rushing to his head, settling on his mouth and face and numbing his skin while he choked on nothing. He slammed his hands against the wood. Maybe there was just a small bit of air, if he could just get out. He dug his nails into the splinters and chips, tearing back his fingernails for just a *chance* at being able to dig his way to freedom. He was getting tired, though, exhausted. His chest hurt, and he could no longer hold up his arms. He stared at the darkness above him. Regardless of whether he wanted it or not, he could feel his vision fading - he tried to keep his eyes closed while gasping for the air that didn’t exist.

==

Ashley snapped awake, upright, this time; eyes forced closed by the brightness of the sun reflecting off the walls of the city - still in front of the graves of his family. He panted heavily, head reeling from the nightmare.

A nightmare.

Just a nightmare.

He was never so thankful for knowing it was just a dream.

[une-nuit-pour-se-souvenir]

random thoughts on jon connington’s chapters

This is part 2, part 1 can be found here.

The Griffin Reborn

Aegon and Danerys

The first part of this chapter details Jon Connington taking over his former castle Griffin's Roost as well as remembering how he lost the Battle of Stony Sept.

Some Daniella stans have cried about how the show made her bad (ahah she's already bad), by giving her Jon Connington's supposed endgame. I believe they're partially right. Jon Connington's thoughts on Stoney Sept are foreshadowing of the burning of King's Landing, but of Danerys doing it.

The Griffin Reborn ~ ADWD

He had lost it all at Stoney Sept, in his arrogance. (...)

And so he swept down on Stoney Sept, closed off the town, and began a search. (...) The townsfolk were hiding him. They moved him from one secret bolt-hole to the next, always one step ahead of the king's men. The whole town was a nest of traitors. At the end they had the usurper hidden in a brothel. What sort of king was that, who would hide behind the skirts of women? Yet whilst the search dragged on, Eddard Stark and Hoster Tully came down upon the town with a rebel army. Bells and battle followed, and Robert emerged from his brothel with a blade in hand, and almost slew Jon on the steps of the old sept that gave the town its name.

For years afterward, Jon Connington told himself that he was not to blame, that he had done all that any man could do. His soldiers searched every hole and hovel, he offered pardons and rewards, he took hostages and hung them in crow cages and swore that they would have neither food nor drink until Robert was delivered to him. All to no avail.

Bobby B was very much loved by the people in general, in fact that's the whole thing with Stoney Sept. The townsfolk hid him because they loved him, despite the violence inflicted towards them. As Connington says, they endured everything for Bobby B's sake, they rebuffed bribes and they endured executions, even a hunger strike. Not one turned traitor, not one turned over Bobby B. Such we have a town hiding a "ruler" they love.

As a side-note, in the books the bells tolled to warn the citizens of the battle and to persuade them to stay inside their houses. It was a statement, marking a rebellion against the invading force and not a surrender signal. I believe it's in the show that is said, bells ring for dead kings, weddings (bride of fire, meaning biurning shit), and the beginning of war (this was waaay before they came up with the accident that is season 8).

Daenerys IV ~ ACOK

(second stanza) A tall lord with copper skin and silver-gold hair stood beneath the banner of a fiery stallion, a burning city behind him. (...) A cloth dragon swayed on poles amidst a cheering crowd. (...) A corpse stood at the prow of a ship, eyes bright in his dead face, grey lips smiling sadly.

Epilogue ~ AFFC

Aegon has been shaped for rule since before he could walk. (...) He has lived with fisherfolk, worked with his hands, swum in rivers and mended nets and learned to wash his own clothes at need. He can fish and cook and bind up a wound, he knows what it is like to be hungry, to be hunted, to be afraid. Tommen has been taught that kingship is his right. Aegon knows that kingship is his duty, that a king must put his people first, and live and rule for them."

Aegon (who's associated with boats, the Shy Maid) will be loved, he's the cloth dragon the people are cheering for (it doesn't mean he's fake, LMAO) and Danerys will burn King's Landing in retalliation. Like Cersei Lannister ended up "loved" in the penultime episode of the show, when she took the townsfolk inside the Red Keep. Forced, I know, but that's what they depicted and what Daniella thought just before she burned them all, the townsfolk preferred Cersei to Daniella. And we highly suspect show!Cersei took book!Aegon's role, such it will be him that will be sitting in King's Landing in the books.

The Griffin Reborn ~ ADWD

"Tywin Lannister himself could have done no more," he had insisted one night to Blackheart, during his first year of exile.

"There is where you're wrong," Myles Toyne had replied. "Lord Tywin would not have bothered with a search. He would have burned that town and every living creature in it. Men and boys, babes at the breast, noble knights and holy septons, pigs and whores, rats and rebels, he would have burned them all.

he would have burned them all.

This is Bran's prophetic visions in sequence, linking Drogon, flying over King's Landing, then an "equivalence" between Aerys saying "burn them all" and Danerys with Drogon.

It's also worth mentionioning for the milionth of time, that "Daenerys" is is an anagram for "Aerys End", you know the guy who wanted to burn King's Landing to the ground instead of letting beloved by the people Bobby B take the throne.

The Griffin Reborn ~ ADWD

He was not wrong, Jon Connington reflected, leaning on the battlements of his forebears. I wanted the glory of slaying Robert in single combat, and I did not want the name of butcher.

Daenerys IV ~ ADWD

Dany was appalled. He is a monster. A gallant monster, but a monster still. "Do you take me for the Butcher King?"

"Better the butcher than the meat. All kings are butchers. Are queens so different?" (...)

What have I done? she thought, huddled in her empty bed. I have waited so long for him to come back, and I send him away. "He would make a monster of me," she whispered, "a butcher queen." But then she thought of Drogon far away, and the dragons in the pit. There is blood on my hands too, and on my heart. We are not so different, Daario and I. We are both monsters.

Danerys accepting her dragon side, which haappens at the end of ADWD and this is why she manages to ride Drogon, is directly connected to being a monster, a butcher. This is word play that translated to the show as well.

GoT 7x02 - Stormborn

DAENERYS picks up a dragon figurine from the table.

DAENERYS: If Viserys had three dragons and an army at his back, he'd have invaded King's Landing already.~

TYRION: Conquering Westeros would be easy for you. But you're not here to be queen of the ashes.

DAENERYS: No.

DAENERYS puts down the dragon figurine.

TYRION: We can take the Seven Kingdoms without turning it into a slaughterhouse. If the great houses support your claim against Cersei, the game is won.

Danerys clothes when she burned King's Landing have red staining the skirt, like a butcher's apron stained with blood as he works.

The Griffin Reborn ~ ADWD

"Wait, I say. Gather our power, win some small lords to our cause, let Lysono Maar dispatch his spies to learn what we can learn of our foes."

Connington gave the plump captain-general a cool look. This man is no Blackheart, no Bittersteel, no Maelys. He would wait until all seven hells were frozen if he could rather than risk another bout of blisters. "We did not cross half the world to wait. Our best chance is to strike hard and fast, before King's Landing knows who we are.

In the show, Danerys is impatient to attack King's Landing, she doesn't want to wait, and has to be convinced REPEATEDLY to not "strike hard and fast". And in one of them, Daenerys and butchering linked together makes yet another appearance (the script above).

Aegon the Conqueror

Maegor the Cruel

Danerys the Butcher. Bitch deserves it.

Aegon and Jon Connington

In the second part of the chapter, Aegon arrives at the Griffin's Roost and Connington and Aegon discuss the attack on Storm's End.

Sansa VII ~ ASOS

The Broken Tower was easier still. They made a tall tower together, kneeling side by side to roll it smooth, and when they'd raised it Sansa stuck her fingers through the top, grabbed a handful of snow, and flung it full in his face. Petyr yelped, as the snow slid down under his collar. "That was unchivalrously done, my lady."

"As was bringing me here, when you swore to take me home."

She wondered where this courage had come from, to speak to him so frankly. From Winterfell, she thought. I am stronger within the walls of Winterfell.

The Griffin Reborn ~ ADWD

A solid man, and true, Connington thought as he watched Duck dismount, but not worthy of the Kingsguard. He had tried his best to dissuade the prince from giving Duckfield that cloak, pointing out that the honor might best be held in reserve for warriors of greater renown whose fealty would add luster to their cause, and the younger sons of great lords whose support they would need in the coming struggle, but the boy would not be moved. "Duck will die for me if need be," he had said, "and that's all I require in my Kingsguard. The Kingslayer was a warrior of great renown, and the son of a great lord as well."

At least I convinced him to leave the other six slots open, else Duck might have six ducklings trailing after him, each more blindingly adequate than the last. "Escort His Grace to my solar," he commanded. "At once."

Prince Aegon Targaryen was not near as biddable as the boy Young Griff had been, however. The better part of an hour had passed before he finally turned up in the solar, with Duck at his side. "Lord Connington," he said, "I like your castle."

"Your father's lands are beautiful," he said. His silvery hair was blowing in the wind, and his eyes were a deep purple, darker than this boy's. "As do I, Your Grace. Please, be seated. Ser Rolly, we'll have no further need of you for now."

"No, I want Duck to stay." The prince sat. "We've been talking with Strickland and Flowers. They told us about this attack on Storm's End that you're planning."

Jon Connington did not let his fury show. "And did Homeless Harry try to persuade you to delay it?"

"He did, actually," the prince said, "but I won't. Harry's an old maid, isn't he? You have the right of it, my lord. I want the attack to go ahead … with one change. I mean to lead it."

As I said in the part 1 of this series, there are many parallels between Aegon's story and Sansa's story. One is a future event, where Sansa and Aegonwill escape the toxic mentors that pose as their fake parent (even if Connington isn't 1/10 as bad as Littlefinger).

In Sansa's case, this most likely will happen when she flees north if "Sansa is Grey Girl" theory holds true (and it happened in the show, moreover this is a parallel she has with Arya and Bran as well, both will also have to flee their toxic mentors soon) and she'll grow more independent from Pedofinger as she regains her identity as Sansa Stark and with her cousin (and the North) by her side.

In Aegon's case, we can see that he's already more indepedent than he used to be (it all started when he stepped up at the Golden Company higher-ups and convinced them to fight for him and his cause). Connington suggests this is because the boy is now Aegon Targaryen and no longer Young Griff, in other words Aegon is growing more confident the more he regains his identity.I suspect that like Sansa, Aegon will grow even more confident with his cousin Arianne (and Dorne) by his side.

Sansa II ~ AGOT

When Sansa finally looked up, a man was standing over her, staring. He was short, with a pointed beard and a silver streak in his hair, almost as old as her father. "You must be one of her daughters," he said to her. He had grey-green eyes that did not smile when his mouth did. "You have the Tully look."

Sansa VII ~ AGOT

"I won't." He sounded almost like Marillion, the night he'd gotten so drunk at the wedding. Only this time Lothor Brune would not appear to save her; Ser Lothor was Petyr's man. "You shouldn't kiss me. I might have been your own daughter . . ."

"Might have been," he admitted, with a rueful smile. "But you're not, are you? You are Eddard Stark's daughter, and Cat's. But I think you might be even more beautiful than your mother was, when she was your age."

The Griffin Reborn ~ ADWD

But when Jon Connington stepped out onto the high battlements, the view was just as intoxicating as he remembered: the crag with its wind-carved rocks and jagged spires, the sea below growling and worrying at the foot of the castle like some restless beast, endless leagues of sky and cloud, the wood with its autumnal colors. "Your father's lands are beautiful," Prince Rhaegar had said, standing right where Jon was standing now. And the boy he'd been had replied, "One day they will all be mine." As if that could impress a prince who was heir to the entire realm, from the Arbor to the Wall. (...)

"Lord Connington," he said, "I like your castle."

"Your father's lands are beautiful," he said. His silvery hair was blowing in the wind, and his eyes were a deep purple, darker than this boy's. "As do I, Your Grace. Please, be seated. Ser Rolly, we'll have no further need of you for now."

Pedofinger and Ebonington. Leave the children alone! *screams*