#Animal Flow Training Near Me

[bestgyminkolkata]

Combining The Best of Animal Flow Training at Stark Fitness Studio!

Go totally primal and equipment free with the best of animal flow exercises offered here! Learn to go back to the basics with just some unique forms and build your strength.

Should I Search For Animal Flow Training Near Me?

To answer this question, let us first list the benefits of animal flow training. But before that, what is this form of exercise? You must have guessed a bit by the name of it. Animal flow is a non-equipment, ground based fun but challenging and extremely effective form of exercise.

It improves strength, flexibility and coordination of your body. You need to stay fixed at a point in the ground and push or pull your body in a certain way - and this is where the trainer's role comes to show you how it's done. Animal flow training can be both graceful and gritty!

As a fitness enthusiast, even if you're a beginner or an advanced gymmer - animal flow exercises can bring attractive results. This training isn't just one kind of set forms and motions, it also combines meditation and yoga in a perfect blend.

Is Animal Flow Training Goofy?

Well, this depends on how you tackle your moves. Even the same exercise routine, when done more than once and with different intensity, can give you a different level of satisfaction. But with animal flow training, you've got to move like never before.

It is a bit unconventional so it might seem goofy at first, but don't let that fool you. Some of these moves are extremely challenging and gradually mastering them can make you feel like an apex predator! Just like any other workout session, your endurance will be tested here.

Therefore, you'll need to approach this training in the similar way as if it was any other form of conventional cardio. With proper sets and breaks in between, you'll get the hang of animal flow training in no time at all!

Women and Animal Flow Training

Stark Fitness Studio is one of the best fitness centers in Highland park and women's fitness classes are a priority here. As mentioned above, animal flow training can combine medication and yoga with physical exercises. And for this, the best yoga center is here.

Once you get the hang of everything, you'll realize this training happens in a flow of smooth motion. From warm ups to cardio to relaxing in the end with a breath in and a breath out, animal flow training will help you connect with your inner self. Irrespective of your gender, this is something everyone should explore and discover!

[perlelune]

Tag, You’re It | Ethan Landry | iii.

Happy, carefree college days meet their abrupt end when every guy who approaches you mysteriously turns up dead.

Warnings: NON-CON, Stalking, Bimbo!Reader, Clueless Reader, Loss of Virginity, Incel Ethan, Cheerleader Reader, Skin Carving (w/knife), Canon Typical Slashing, Voyeurism, Kidnapping, Forced Masturbation, Filming, Blackmail

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

"Where the hell were you last night?"

You gasp as Chad slams Ethan against a tree harshly. 

"I-I had a family emergency," the brunette stammers, chestnut eyes rounding as they bounce between Chad and the group. "You can check the hospital’s visitor’s log. That’s where I was."

Chad’s jaw clenches, his grip on Ethan’s lapels tightening. "Bullshit, man," he rumbles. "You disappear and my friend gets hurt."

You heave out a weary sigh, rubbing your aching eyes. You didn’t sleep a wink last night. Still, there’s one thing you’re clear-minded about. 

The emergency meeting Mindy called outdoors wasn’t supposed to be about turning on each other. 

A frown carves your brow as you rise from the bench and make your way to your friend. You put a hand on Chad’s shoulder. Despite still having Ethan in half a chokehold, he eases under your touch.

"Chad, come on," you coax him, your tone soft. "Ethan wouldn’t." You turn to the rest of your group. 

Tara’s expression is skeptical. Quinn looks puzzled. Anika carries an air of caution. 

And Mindy…her gaze is narrowed in suspicion as she gauges Ethan from her spot a few feet away. You lick your lips and argue, "Besides, you said you guys vetted both him and Quinn, right?"

Chad gives Ethan one long harsh stare before releasing him. 

"True," he says. 

Ethan staggers back, a careful eye trained on his roommate. 

The breath confined in your lungs flows out in relief. 

Mindy hums, her expression unchanged as she crosses her arms over her chest. 

"Doesn’t matter. Everyone’s a suspect," she maintains. When Ethan brushes past her, she shoves him away.  "Get your Ghostface ass away from me, Ghostface."

A dejected Ethan finds a seat on the bench opposite Tara and Chad. You go sit near him. As your fingers graze his arm in an attempt to comfort him, Ethan startles, his eyes enlarging at your actions. 

"I’m sorry about this," you mumble. In the background, Mindy gets engulfed in an impassioned spiel regarding how to survive horror films. It’s almost like she’s waited her entire life for this moment. You only grant her half an ear, your mind still plagued by the horror of last night. If it weren’t for Mindy dragging you out of bed this morning, you’re convinced it’s where you’d still be…nestled in the safety of your blankets and stuffed animals. "We’re all a little on edge."

Ethan gives a lopsided, bashful smile.

"It’s okay. I’m new to the friend group." His thick dark brows collide into each other as hesitation flutters on his boyish face. He points at himself and stutters, "A-Am I in the friend group?"

A bright smile unfurls on your face with ease. You squeeze his arm in reassurance as his bewildered gaze remains glued to you. 

"Yes you are, Ethan."

The memorial held in Connor's honor flies by in a blur, as you're too shell-shocked to register most of what's going on. 

After a mere few minutes of attendance, you flee back to your dorm, discomfort stirring in your gut beneath the suspicious glares of other students. 

Not very many people encounter one of the infamous killer's incarnations and live to tell the tale. 

It's pandemonium on campus, panic permeating the air now that Ghostface has returned…and not even in Woodsboro, but right here at Blackmore university. 

The rest of the week is worse, hollow and strange. You find yourself questioning the reality of the gruesome scene you witnessed. 

And each time you close your eyes, you relive it. Each time you're transported back to that night. You're shivering on the cold cobblestones, still damp from the afternoon rain, face warm with splatters of Connor's blood. 

Prey awaiting your fate. 

If it weren't for Mindy and the others, you might have gone insane. 

While the dean advised you to go to counseling, you can't bring yourself to do it. At least not yet. All of it is too fresh. Talking about it terrifies you, so you burrow yourself in denial.

And there's also the guilt gnawing at you everyday. You did nothing. 

You cowered, weak and pathetic, while a boy got murdered a few feet away from you. 

It doesn't matter how many times Tara tries to cheer you up about it, reassuring you that you reacted as best you could, a scalding, immovable layer of shame coats your insides.

Still, you try to move on, reclaim a modicum of normalcy. 

Connor’s dead. No amount of tears and what-ifs will bring him back. 

It’s how you wind up in front of your vanity on Friday night, putting the finishing touches to your hair and makeup before you go out to meet with the cheer squad. 

While you’re not too keen on going out, Alana, the team captain, insisted that you need to participate in the trust-building exercises she has planned for the night. 

So you wiped your tears, rose from bed and picked one of your cutest outfits in order to comply with her wishes. 

Besides, Alana has a point. A big match is around the corner and you’d resent yourself if you disturbed the pyramid, or even the synchronicity of the squad’s dance routine…all because you’re too distracted. 

Cheerleading might be silly to some but to you it’s a huge part of your life, one you’re proud of. You like being part of a team. You like being surrounded by friends. You like boosting morale during matches.

You’ll never be the smartest girl in the room but you’re a damn good cheerleader at least. 

As you gauge your reflection, satisfaction blooms inside you. You artfully concealed every sign of sleep deprivation.

You want to display a resilient, happy facade. 

The onset of a smile unfans on your lips but the unexpected buzzing of your phone yanks your focus. 

You pick it up from above the sink.

As you check your phone, your brows crumple in dismay. The number calling is unknown. 

Still, you don’t mull over the weirdness and respond right away, curious who could be trying to reach you at such a late hour. 

"Hello?" you greet, your tone airy.

"Hey, princess. Wanna play a game?" A guttural voice teases on the other side of the phone. 

The breath stumbles in your throat. Your pulse goes haywire.

"I-It’s you," you croak, the room swirling around you as you wobble out of the bathroom.

Your clammy hand clutches the phone. Quickly you remove it from your ear, intent on calling 911 but the stranger tuts you, disapproval dripping from his gravelly timbre.  "Ah, don’t even try calling the police…or I’m going to get upset. Very upset." You freeze. A raucous chuckle vibrates against your cheek.  "And I don’t need to tell you the kind of things I do when I’m upset, pretty girl."

Fear echoes through your trembling voice. 

"What…What do you want from me?"

He laughs again, and it’s raspier this time, playful almost.

"What do I want from you? God, you really are the sweetest thing, you know that? All soft and innocent and just clueless as fuck."

You don’t know why but his words are like a punch in the gut. You feel small, stupid. Tears bead under your lashes. 

"Like, I said, princess…I want to play a game."

"I don’t want to play any game, please," you whimper, shaking your head. 

He hums lowly as the clamor of your wild heartbeats fills your ears. 

"Take a look at what I just sent, princess."

Dread spreads down the length of your spine. Stomach tight, you follow his instructions. You gasp. There’s a notification from an app you don’t even remember downloading at the very top of your screen. 

Your quivering thumb taps the message. 

A new window opens and a video starts playing.

Your hand flies to your mouth, an errant tear streaming down your face. 

"They make such a cute couple, don’t they?" the killer chimes, waving his knife in front of the camera he’s using to film Mindy and Anika from afar. "Would be tragic if something was to rip them apart." 

A shudder rushes through your frame, bile leaping to your throat as it seems like you might throw up any second. 

Clearly he’s standing outside the window of their shared apartment, close enough to cause them harm, and taunting you with that fact. 

"Please, don’t hurt them," you sob, more tears skipping down your cheeks. 

He snorts. "But I don’t have to…as long as you play my little game. Or I can just end it now if you prefer."

"No! I’ll play. I’ll play, I promise."

Your swift reply draws another amused sound from him. 

"Good girl," he lauds. 

For a reason you can’t fathom, his tone elicits a strange tickle somewhere in your center. 

His inflection deepens. "Just do everything I say and it’ll all be fine."

You nod frenetically, forgetting that he can’t see you. 

"Now, lock the door and get on your bed." He pauses as if he just remembered something. "Hm, it’s great that your roommate is spending the night at her boyfriend’s, right? Gives you and I the chance for some quality time with each other, princess."

Feet shaking, you teeter to your bed, shocked that he would even know something like this.

Suddenly, you don’t feel safe in your own room anymore. 

Your chest tightens. 

"You see that teddy bear next to your pillow?" Your mouth drops, your gaze traveling to your stuffed bear. It’s like he’s right there with you, breath ghosting over the back of your neck. "It’s your favorite, right? I know it is because I’ve watched you for so long. You hold it close to your heart whenever you’re sad." Your shock grows, a surge of unease swelling within you. Your hand squeezes around your mouth, more tears spilling. 

Calmly, the killer orders, "I need you to put Teddy at the end of the bed."

"Why?" you squeak, brows knitting in confusion. 

"Because I want to get a good view of your pretty little pussy when you show it to me, silly," he sings.

Heat gathers in your cheeks. "W-What?"

"Just do as I say and don’t worry your pretty head about it," he rasps, voice softer than before. 

You heed his command, collecting your bear to place it at the end of your bed. 

Ice scatters in your veins. It’s probably stupid but the beady black eyes of the bear you’ve had for years, usually a source of comfort, drill holes into your skin today. 

As if he were peering right into your soul…which is silly, so you discard the thought. 

"Don’t hurt my friends, please."

"I won’t if you give me no reason to."

"I promise. I’ll be so good..."

A throaty sound between a moan and a sigh oozing satisfaction ripples in your ear. "That’s what I like to hear," he croons. "See, everything will be fine as long as you listen to me, princess. No need to try and think. Just be a doll and do exactly what I tell you."

Silence stretches as you shiver on your duvet. 

His next words draw a tearful gasp from you. 

"Lift your skirt and remove your panties."

Weeping, you do what he asks. Your fingers quake at the edge of your panties as you pull them down your legs. 

"Yes. Such a good girl." His timbre is hoarse with lust. "What a cute pair, did you wear this for me, pretty girl?"

"I…" Your sentence trails off in a strangled sob as you’re unsure what answer he desires from you. You don’t want to end up blurting out the wrong thing and endangering your friends. 

So you play along. 

"Lie back on the bed and open your legs for me, princess."

Despite being alone in your room with only your stuffed animal as witness, you feel vulnerable as you part your thighs and expose your slit. Your center tingles as cool air hits it.

"Fuck, you’re gorgeous. Wider." Embarrassment surges within you as your lower lips are spread, displaying your wet folds. "Hm, even wider. Don’t be shy, show me everything. I want to picture what being inside you will feel like, princess."

~

[lilrainbowcloud]

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Child of Apollo! Reader

Genre: Fluff and angst

Word count: 2.6k || masterlist

Warning: mention of blood

a/n: the pictures used does not potray the reader. the final part, annabeth was never there.

The two times you trusted him, and the one time he betrayed you.

i. Taking his hand to pull you through the protective barrier.

“Wake up, we’re almost there,”

Taking a deep breath as you regained your consciousness from a dreamless sleep, you straighten your back, arms stretching above your head as you readjust your focus to the satyr in front of you.

“What?”

“Camp Half Blood! We’re almost there!” exclaimed your friend, Caelum, excitedly pointing to the window with a wide smile adorning his face. Happy to be able to bring back a demigod safely to camp for a satyr his age. An achievement of his service.

Turning to the window yourself, the view of the forest and blue sky bordered by the sea filled your vision. The more the train moved forward, the longer the scenery in front of you unfold like a painter with a brush painting the environment for you as you go.

A soft gasp escaped your lips.

“How do you know where to go?” curious, you asked your guide as you dodge the protruding branches from scratching your skin, however when you looked in front of you, it was no problem for Caelum to navigate the forest as though he was water flowing through a river. His movement fluid, legs nimble. You watched as his little goat ears twitch as he moved.

“Trust me! I know this forest like the back of my hand!”

Feeling your movement was obstructed on your left foot, gravity pulled you down as you got caught on a root. You yelped as both of your hands braced you from the impact of the fall.

“Cael-“

“Shh!”

“Can you at least he-”

“SHH!”

Confusion and disbelief twisted your face as you looked up at him. How could he told you to shut up when you just fell? And not help you up. Wasn’t he supposed to be your protector? That was what he told you back at your mum’s house when they relayed to you the truth about your life. From wanting closure and understanding of your acentric self, you had accepted the reality of your being wholeheartedly. The least you knew you weren’t the one. It was comforting in a twisted way.

A second of you assessing his demeanor, ears flat on his head, eyes wide searching, you knew better than to make another sound. Instead, slowly you untangle your foot from the root and turned your body to look behind you.

The forest had gone deftly silent. No bird chirping, no leaves rustling. Something was definitely wrong.

A loud flap of wings could be heard, then there was a shadow moved on the ground, passing above you. What animal had that large of a wingspan? Nothing came to your mind but it filled your nerves with icy bites of fear. The hair on the back of your neck stood.

“Y/N, get up right now,” two arms hooking under your armpits, you didn’t hear Caelum ran to you as he hauled you up to your feet. Eyes looking through the trees above you, you nodded hastily and took his hand in yours as he quickly pulled you into a sprint.

“The camp is near! Once we get pass the barrier it can’t get to you!”

Failing to form any words, you only managed to squeeze his hand in confirmation that you understood him. Whatever barrier he meant and whatever was chasing you, you didn’t care. Only your life and safety mattered.

The loud screeching of the fury could be heard to anyone who was near the camp border. That anyone was none other than Luke himself. Momentarily distracted by the form of the winged monster emerging from the forest trees, the wooden sword of his sparring partner hit him on the shoulder causing his opponent to quickly apologize with concern. But it fell on deft ear as Luke held his hand up as an “Its fine” gesture, too focused on the flying monster diving back down into the thick foliage.

Gripping the wooden sword in his hand tighter as tough it was a real sharpened one, he and the other campers nearby halted their activities to stand ready too near the border. Weapons drawn in steady hands, they held their ground for a possible attack of an intruder or welcoming a demigod.

“There!” The sound of a voice shouting could be heard following the rustling of bushes as a satyr and a girl, frightened looking with their hands linked emerged into the few meters of clearing separating the camp and forest.

The winged figure rose again to the sky, Luke noticed its nose about to dive down on them again. Gasps and shouts of horror rose with the crowd.

Instinct took over his body. Turning to his right to a camper from the Apollo cabin, he snatched the bow and arrow off of his hands before running pass the protection of the barrier and into the clearing where he was joined with the pair in the middle.

“Go! Go!” encouraging them to move forward for the last few meters from the border, Luke aimed the bow upwards, landing a clumsy shot with unfocused aim to the fury. Not his best suited weapon but it was enough to direct the fury away from them as the three of them sprinted back to safety.

Sensing the fury closing in on them behind his back by the sound of its screeching loud in his ear, with less than two meters away from the border, Luke pushed his legs to run ahead of them and with a last surge of adrenaline, he pulled the girl’s arm, bodies colliding as he cushioned her fall with his figure.

A loud thud, followed by a screech echoed through the atmosphere. A second later the sound of wing flaps disappearing filled you with a sense of relief as you knew that whatever that creature was chasing you had retreated to the hell hole it came from.

Fear replaced with reality, your flight senses dissipating slowly made you aware of your surrounding again. Made you aware of the hard grip you had on the body of the person who had pulled you through the barrier.

With a jolt of surprise as if you had been shocked by an electric static, you released your grip from him, quickly standing up with an utter of Thank you for saving your life.

Turning back towards the forest, the sight of the monster was no longer there. You were only left with the many pair of eyes looking at you with interest as they welcome a new half-blood into the camp. Another pawn of the gods in their game of life. But you don’t know that yet.

“Welcome to Camp Half Blood.”

Facing the voice of your savior, it was the first time you get to appropriately assess him. His appearance of dark curly hair slightly matted on his forehead, tall stature, and kind smile as he extended his hand to you in greeting. As if what had happened moments ago was that nothing out of the ordinary.

“I’m Luke.”

ii. He taught you to sword fight.

Two summers had passed since your first day arriving at camp.

One bead of the day Apollo claimed you as his daughter a few weeks of your first stay after you had helped saved and healed a child of Demeter from a cut, he received from a river stone during capture the flag. The bright yellow glow of the sun symbol bathed the riverbank of the camp as cheers from your now half siblings roared through the air.

Another bead from your second summer at camp. The summer you had shared your confessions with Luke under the blanket of stars, illuminated by the bonfire as you both sat together with the melodious voice of your half siblings leading the song. It was a shared sentiment with each other as you both vowed to protect and be there by each other’s side through anything. A sanctuary in the form of trust bonding you to him, blinding the absurdity of your fates in the world even only for a while.

“Get up, Y/N,”

Huffing out an annoyed breath, you took his outstretched hand as he pulled you back on your feet. Being the child of Apollo, you had a natural talent with the bow and arrow. The curve of the finger pads, and the slender shape of the arrow knocked on the bow string molded so perfectly into you. It was a natural talent in your blood thanks to your father. But with a sword, it does not resonate with you. Therefore, this was the third summer that Luke, being the best swordsman in the camp offered to teach you.

So, here you are with a wooden sword, surrounded by the dense trees as the audience as the son of Hermes handed your ass to you.

“You know what, I think I’m improving enough for today don’t you think?” truthfully, you were just finding an excuse to stop the training session earlier than usual as you dusted the dead leaves off of your clothes.

“You did improve, and I’m proud of you.” Getting back to his starting stance, he aimed the point of the fake sword at you again, with a playful glint in his eyes.

In a swift movement of a trained warrior, he moved behind you with the tip of the wooden sword softly touching the back of your neck, “What if someone tries to back stab you?”

Even if he’s not in front of you, your mind’s eye can form the face he was making. Proud to have tricked his opponent in a moment of distraction. You slowly turned around, he tipped the sword to your chest.

“If someone stabs you from the back, then they’re a coward.”

Raising your own sword to push his away from your chest, you took a few steps back and continued your battle stance once more.

iii. Defending Percy from Luke.

Colourful sparkles of the fireworks filled the sky. Each boom heard comes with it a bloom of neon flower lighting up the camp’s sky as the camp went into celebration of the return of Percy from his quest. Cheers of the campers made your heart full as you made your way through the woods trying to find Luke to join you near the bonfire for the singalong.

Though the sky was lit, the ground was shrouded by the darkness of the night. The weigh of your quiver on your hip, and the golden bow, a gift from your father on your back gave you comfort as you trudge towards the place where you and Luke meet up for lessons.

After the sun sets, he vanished from your bearings which was odd since he had promised you to help with the preparation of the celebration later in the evening. Knowing him, it was one out of three places he could’ve gone to.

“Luke!” calling out to him, your voice was swallowed by the void, absorbed by nature. You didn’t get any reply back.

Venturing further, his name caught on the tip of your tongue as you heard the metal clash of swords. Stopping in your track for a moment, you heard voices mixing with the clinging.

Luke and Percy.

Worry surged you forward towards the ruckus.

Horror filled your chest as you witness Percy slashing riptide to Luke. A sound of hurt came from Luke meant Percy had hit him.

Anger took over as you danced a move you’ve practiced and even more perfected overtime, your arrow now knocked on the bow, feet sliding at the end of your halt in front of Luke, shielding him from Percy.

“Y/N?” Both of them gasping out of breath from their duel. One in disbelief and the other, confused.

“Percy, what are you doing?”

Never in your lifetime would you had imagined a day you would turn your weapon against someone who you considered as your friend despite the little amount of time you had spent together. But here you are, eyes squinting to see him better in the dark. Fingers ready to release the arrow.

“Are you with him too?” His grip on riptide loosened at his side, looking up at you with a betrayed face.

“What are you talk-”

“Are you working with Kronos too?!” Percy’s accusing tone caught you off guard, causing you to lower your bow. Tilting your head as you let out a confused huh?

“Percy, you’re not making sense here,” Luke’s name died on your lips as you felt the cold tip of backbiter against your exposed neck. Eyes wide, you captured Percy’s eyes with his reflecting the same emotion as you, alarmed.

Déjà vu.

In the same forest, in the same spot, with the same person but with a different weapon.

Coward.

What was he thinking? What was happening first and foremost. Why were they fighting? It did not look like a practice session.

“Luke, tell me what is happening. Right. Now.”

As much as you were frightened, the overwhelming feeling of betrayal weighed heavier.

You were frozen.

“He’s working with Kronos to bring him back. To start a war. He stole Zeus’ master bolt.”

In the last sentence Percy relayed to you, you could feel the shift of the sword. So, it’s true?

Percy would not lie to you. But so would Luke. Right?

“Is that true?” Broken were your voice as you muttered the question to the person you called your lover.

The grip of your bow and the arrow returned. The muscles of your body tensed, ready to resume position.

“Y/N, listen to me, go back-”

The sword tip shifted again.

Taking advantage of this, in one swift movement you positioned yourself in front of Percy, the knocked arrow now pointing towards Luke instead.

What are we now?

The fireworks continued. For the first time tonight, you could see his face, illuminated by the purple and blue hues from the sky.

Hurt was what you saw in his dark eyes. But so was yours.

“You’re trusting him more than me now?” He raised his sword, swinging it to point from you to Percy. Eyes hardened.

“Why would he lie to me?” Why would you lie to me?

A scowl graced his face as you claimed that. The scissors that cut the string from him to you passed through.

Sensing the rising tension, Percy shouted your name as he shoved you to the side.

Luke raised his sword to swing down.

As you hit the ground, your arrow flew from your fingers, grazing Luke’s shoulder.

A hiss of pain and everything paused.

With Percy by your side, you on your back on the ground, supported by your elbows, watched as Luke held his shoulder with force. Red bloomed where your arrow had hurt him, breaking his skin.

You hurt him. But he had hurt you too.

Was this fair?

“I’m sorry,” came out weak to your ear. You didn’t event know if it had reached Luke or not. But he looked at you with much hatred.

Did he betrayed you, or you betrayed him?

“I’m sorry,” lifting yourself up from the ground, “Luke, please,” Percy helped you to stand.

Shaking his head, completely at lost for word, Luke walked back a few steps away from you as though you were the villain.

Of course, you had hurt him after promising to protect each other. But he also raised his weapon at you with the intention to hurt. Or was it to daunt you? To get you to back off?

Without another word to you, Luke turned his back to the both of you and launched himself into the rip of air among the ruined stones.

Your feet didn’t move fast enough. Your instinct wasn’t fast enough to reach him.

He vanished with your voice shouting his name.

Emptiness was what you felt as your knees hit the ground.

Numbness took over when Percy called out your name repeatedly.

Was this really happening?

Will you ever see him again?

[canmom]

the Spirited Away theatrical adaptation

today I went with @birdfriender to see the stage production of Spirited Away, produced by Toho, currently on tour in London.

and like. holy shit??

you might say how the hell could you adapt a film like spirited away to stage. the answer is: incredibly inventive stagecraft, puppetry, costumes and especially choreography.

I was completely blown away by how this play flowed across the stage. set transitions were masked with lighting to direct attention, with the descending screen, with the rotating central platform that managed to function as nearly every part of the bathhouse. stairs, rotating bridges, creative use of size to indicate perspective (like the tiny train that circles the stage), and just the way the crew would move the props with a flourish -

but also the puppetry, like man! the way characters like Kamaji, Yubaba's giant head (used only at moments of intense emotion), and No Face would be operated by entire teams of puppeteers - it was extraordinary. the puppetry director was Toby Olié who's worked on a million different things including War Horse and you can really see them applying all these tricks accumulated over the years...

the show is remarkably faithful to the film; a few scenes are slightly abridged but every sequence I remembered was there and deliver with style. where it does need to pause and breathe, like in the famous train scene, it does. and like... it is fascinating to see an adaptation from animation to theatre. seeing how Mone Kamishiraishi (Chihiro) would stumble and bumb into walls just as she would under the pen of Shinya Ohira. or how a memorable sequence in the film could be represented symbolically: a collapsing pipe as a string of segments pulled on a string, a flower garden by dancers in flower outfits.

some of my fave sequences involved wooden panels carried by dancers, choreographed so the characters would weave between them, or they'd rotate to represent elevators on different floors. it was also fascinating to see how they'd symbolically represent things it would be impossible to stage, often representing fluids with fabric sheets. a transformation could be shown with actors swapping places with a flourish. at other times, it feels like stage magic tricks are in use, like a flash of light drawing your attention to a rope that was there all along. sometimes the puppeteers will be on stage, wearing simple beige outfits that mark them as not being 'present' as they manipulate the soot sprites and frogs and so on.

they also made effective, sparing use of a large projector screen, which descended at certain points, primarily for the driving scene at the beginning and the train scene. this actually didn't use scenes from the movie, but more of a soft, painterly style applied over... probably animated video? hard to say with the blurring, could be live footage. it reminded me of the use of similar screens in the later YoRHa plays, although it was a minor element here.

we weren't allowed to take photos (i took this one during the final bow anyway) and I would have been too busy watching to take them anyway, but this teaser shows briefly a number of the coolest setups. still, it's so much more when you see the whole thing flowing along without interruption.

and it was very interesting to me looking at this kind of show - big stage, directly homaging an animated film - from the eyes of someone who knows a lot more about film and animation than I do about theatre.

compared to film, you simply do not have closeups; the closest thing is when the puppeteers bring out the segments of Yubaba's giant floating head, but this is used sparingly. so everything is basically a long shot. however, because the acuity of a human eye is much greater than that of a camera, even from near the back of the theatre you can make out a lot of details that you wouldn't be able to make out with an equivalent camera shot. this allows compositions where there is loads going on at stage at once, with the eye being drawn to different areas by lighting and movement.

I do feel like there are definitely things to learn for animators from this kind of stage choreography. so many times I thought like, wow, that's so clever. like how chihiro riding haku was shown by splitting the dragon puppet into segments and putting her on the shoulders of one of the puppeteers.

and everything was done with such style too. if something shuffles off stage, you know it will be done with a wiggle and a flourish. small things but they add so much.

presumably because this seems like an incredibly involved show, there are multiple performers for each major character: four Chihiros, and three Hakus, Yubabas, Kamajis and so on. I'm not sure the exact lineup tonight beyond Chihiro. the exception is Kaonashi (No Face), who is played only by Hikaru Yamano, who gives an incredible performance, sidling and flexing around the stage in all sorts of strange ways that really get across the character's whole deal despite literally performing under a white mask and concealing robe. it's kinda amazing.

another fantastic casting is fundoshi dancer Yuya Igarashi as Kashira (the stack of three big heads that serve Yubaba, and speak only in wordless grunts). he basically has his real head as one of the three, and he has two more heads on his hands, and moves them around in incredibly energetic and funny ways. it's a brilliant way to interpret this, somehow feeling perfectly appropriate to have a buff guy in a red loincloth moving them around.

Yubaba's actress tonight would have been either Mari Natsuki or Hitomi Harukaze; either way she did an incredible job, it was really cool seeing a more human-proportioned version of the character and she brought a lot of energy and authority to the role.

the whole cast did a fucking amazing job honestly. I wish I knew more about theatre acting so I could comment more specifically on the tricks they were doing, but you definitely felt Chihiro's emotions

the production is in Japanese; English subtitles were shown on two screens on either side of the stage. the translation was on the 'honorifics included' end of that scale, but absolutely clear and idiomatic. the format worked - it was generally not hard to follow the action and glance at the subtitles, even though they were further away than they would be in film - and it definitely filled the theatre. I really hope this leads to more Japanese theatrical productions going on tour like this. wish i'd been able to see the Totoro one a few months ago.

definitely this kind of theatre must depend on a fairly obscene budget of the kind that only comes to biiiiig properties like, say, an adaptation of a beloved Studio Ghibli movie (one family turned up in cosplay) - there's a lot to be said for less extravagant staging. at the same time... this really was something.

i gotta go to the theatre more

[littlefanficprincess]

Dancing across my mind

🎆One shot🎆

Pair: Tai lung x reader

Song: Someone to you (Banners)

"Dive and disappear without a trace, I just wanna be someone"

Important: (Y/A) = Your animal, ‼️Spoilers for Kungfu Panda 4‼️

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

It felt like it was ages ago when I had first met him, a life time ago.

I was about the age of eight, just moved to the valley of peace with my family. It truly lived up to its name, a lot calmer compared to the big city. A very welcome change.

A young (y/a) emerges from a building which was covered with posters. In her paws/feathers/claws were a (f/c) colored fan.

My mother was a traditional dancer, a famous one at that. She use to perform at theaters near our old home. I wanted to be just like her.

The small creature stumbles through the villages, watching as other pass by. Her (e/c) look up and latch onto a mountain with a Cherry Blossom tree on it.

Her eyes sparkle in fascination. She picks up the pace, and almost begins running. Unknownly, she almost jumps into a geese who was carrying a crate full of vegetable.

Finally after a few minutes was carrying herself up. She reaches the top of the mountain. It was really high, she could even see her house from here!

I sometimes wonder if I never went to the mountain on that faithful day, I most likely would've never met him.

The (f/a) moves to stand in the beginning pose, she in- and exhales like her mother taught her. She carefully moves her arms/feathers, feeling the wind flow past her form.

She couldn't imagine how amazing she looks as feels cherry bottom leafs flow through the breeze.

Her grip on the fan loosend and she accidentally drops it on the moss covered rocks. She was about to retrieve her when a pair of paws grab them.

She looks up, meeting two kind golden eyes. Those belonging to a snow leopard that seemed her age. He shyly bends down on one knee "I think you've dropped this" He holds out the fan for her grab.

(Y/n) reaches and takes it from him, feeling her wing/paw brush against his. "Thank you, um..." She says, not knowing his name.

"Tai...Tai lung!" He introduces himself, seeming to have trouble with his words. He seemed shy and excited at the same time.

There was something special about him, but (Y/n) couldn't place her feater/finger on it. "Thank you, Tai Lung" A smile appears on her face. "May I ask what brings you here?"

"I might have had a burst of anger and my jiaolian had send me over her to meditate and dim my anger" Tai Lung explains, akwardly fiddling with his paws.

(Y/n) resumes the begin pose, holding the fan tightly "Why don't join me, dancing always makes me relax"

Hesitantly, Tai Lung moves to stand next to the other. He copies the begin pose, looking at his arms and legs to make sure he was doing it correct.

His eyes watch (Y/n)'s movements, observing the dance. He follows her moves, soon they were moving in sync. Tai Lung realises how peaceful he felt, feeling the wind flow through his fur.

Not so far away stood Shifu, proud to see his student was able to calm the burning rage in himself.

For years, (Y/n) and Tai Lung met on the mountain. Dancing and training togheter, Tai Lung was even able to teach (Y/n) some fighting moves. (Y/n) became a better dancer and Tai Lung became a greater fighter.

But it came all to an end on the day he told me about his 'Destiny'.

(Y/n) sits calmly ontop the mountain, her eyes were shut. She in- and exhales through her nose. From behind she could hear someone approaching, she knew those footsteps all too well.

She turns just time to be grabbed by the waist and held up. The one holding her up was Tai Lung himself, seeming very happy for some reason.

(Y/n) couldn't help but let out an excited giggles, gripping into his strong arms as support "What has you so overjoyed?"

Carefully, Tai Lung places the (y/a) down back on her feet "The next time you will see, I will have the title of the Dragon Warrior!"

"Fancy title, will you get a metal of honor along with it?" (Y/n) Jokes, smiling at her companion.

Tai Lung chuckles, shaking his head, amused by her remark "Maybe, If I'm lucky. I know you'll be proud of me"

"I already am, I always have been"

After he left, I waited for him. It was so quiet underneath the cherry Blossom tree. I missed his laughter, his snarky remarks that would always brought a smile to my face.

(Y/n) looks at the letter she was holding, she was planning to give it to Tai Lung. She sighs and places it in a drawer, closing it after.

Rumors grew, stories about him destroying a nearby village. They would follow me everywhere, as many knew how close we were. Most of my shows had town.

Years past, the rumors became less and less. Until he left everyone's mind, but not mine. Fifteen years later, I had walked out of theater I usually perform at.

The infamous (y/a) strolls out of the building, holding her trusty (f/c) fan by her side. She pauses when she hears crashing nearby.

A figure gets flung infront of her, only a few meters away. They use their fist to bring their motion to a stop. It was Tai Lung.

As if feeling her presence, he turns his head to look at her gaze. Their eyes widen at the sight of the other. Tai Lung didn't get much reaction as he was punched in the stomach by Po, making him fly out of sight.

Scared, (Y/n) rush out, trying to find her old friend. She follows the trial of destruction, going all throughout the valley.

She found it stopped in the middle of the street, with a huge crater in the street. She turns to a pig standing nearby "Have you seen a snow leopard by any chance?"

"The dragon Warrior had defeated him a few moments ago, you just missed it" The pig explains to her.

Next to pig were three bunnies, jumping up and down, excitedly. "It was so cool, he went like pow pow pow!" "Then he did skadoosh!" "It was like send that cat to another dimension"

Hope dissapears in her eyes as the possibility of him being dead. After all these years she sees him finally, only to hear that he could already be dead.

A few years later

One by one, the old enemies return to the spirit realm. General Kai flies into the golden portal, leaving Tai Lung to be the only one left.

"Guess it's your turn now" Po turns to his old foe, holding his staff with a tight grip.

Tai Lung shakes his head "I won't, atleast not yet, Dragon Warrior. I have some businesses to take care of" He turns and walks up the stairs. The Bandits, along with po's dads stand aside to let him walk past.

"Should we just let him walk out of here like that?" Zhen asks Po, using her thumb to point towards the leaving snow leopard."I mean, what is the worst he can do now that he isn't out for revenge" The panda replies, shrugging his shoulders.

Meanwhile (Y/n) was in her home, pouring some tea in a small cup. She pauses when she hears rummaging, it sounded like it was near.

Turning around, she finds her old friend bend down on one knee. Tai Lung had his head lowered, not meeting her eyes.

"Tai Lung..." (Y/n) mumbles underneath her breath, taking the few of someone she hadn't seen for so long.

"I have down many reckless and irresponsible things. All I ask for you is your forgiveness, only if you think I deserve it" Tai Lung says, not moving an inch.

(Y/n) stays quiet, not sure what to say. The snow leopard takes the silence as rejection, he was about to get up and walks away.

When he was brought in to en embrace by one other than the (Y/a) "You don't know how much I've missed you"

"I missed you too, my dancer"

[softmangoes]

cabin fever | eden x defiant!pc

18+ only

summary: you finally slip free from your leash. eden finds you not long after.

includes: defiant!fem pc, captive to lovers, violence, animal death, pov switches, blood, first-aid, a very touch-starved eden

author's note: this is my very first DOL fic and of course it had to include my favorite forest husband. this was so fun to write, so please let me know what you think! 🧡

-

the large man pushes you back into the cabin before he falls to the floor with a dull thud. his hunting jacket is dark with blood flowing from an angry gash in his shoulder. you watch him, your knees stinging from scraping against the wooden planks, but he does not get back up.

behind the strands of his dirt-caked hair, you see one of his eyes trained on you.

"is this what you wanted?" he says, voice strained. "to run away?"

a part of you still wants to. with him in this vulnerable state, you're pretty sure you can.

ever since he had first dragged you into the cabin, you had spent hours weakening the leash with a flint arrowhead you managed to find near your post. finally, after days of being fucked against your will, you managed to slip free out of the cabin and into the woods.

it had not taken him long to notice you were gone. in your desperation, you did not think things through. he was a hunter, after all. of course he would find you.

and when he did, he had yanked you from the forest floor, kicking and screaming, gripping you so tightly that your shirt had ripped and your skin became bruised with his fingertips.

and now he's here in front of you, half conscious. you look at him, panting softly and bleeding out onto the floor. despite the pain he must be in, he's still staring at you.

"get away from her," he had growled to the onslaught of snapping teeth. "she's mine."

you had watched the wolf lunge onto him, sinking its teeth into his skin. in the scuffle, he had lost his grip on his rifle. you picked it up, the metal cold in your hands, before training its sight at the writhing struggle between beast and man.

in that moment, you could have ended it all. but before you could pull the trigger, you heard a sudden snap of bone. the great wolf went limp, its last breath a pained whine. with a huff, eden pushed its body off of him and took you by the collar.

"you had your chance," he said, voice hollow. "but i won't die that easily."

right now, you could get up. he could watch you leave. in his current state, it would be impossible for him to follow you.

a part of you wants to hate him, but there's something in the way he looks at you - like he's afraid, ashamed even - that makes you get on your knees and crawl to him.

"what...?" he manages.

"don't make me regret this," you say before tearing off a piece of your shirt and pressing it to the wound.

he does not cry out. blood, warm and red, wets your fingers but you do not stop. you feel his hand wrap around your wrist and for a second, you think he's going to snap it just like he did with the wolf's neck, but he just keeps it there. his palm is rough with calluses, his knuckles silvery with scars. you keep the pressure steady all while he watches you silently.

once the bleeding has stopped, you wipe your hands on your shorts and go to the kitchen to retrieve a jar of poultice and a jug of water. on the first night you spent in the cabin, you remember that he had applied some of it to cuts you sustained during your time in the forest. they had healed quickly after that.

gingerly, you unbutton his shirt to expose the wound. seeing him bare isn't anything new to you, but this was different.

"an hour ago, you wanted to kill me," he says. it's a statement, but also a question. you don't give him an answer.

his chest is sticky with drying blood, but you manage to peel away most of his shirt from the gash. he winces as you do this, grunting softly under his breath.

at the orphanage, you would bandage the little ones whenever they came crying to you with cuts and bruises. one time, robin had slipped into your room, tears in his eyes, as he held up an arm marred by a deep cut from biking too fast down a hill.

all of them had hissed in pain from your ministrations while trying to heal their affliction, but not eden. he was silent, giving you nothing else more than breathy huffs.

you wash the wound with water, watching as dirt and debris flow away. once it's clean, you apply the poultice, tearing off another strip of your shirt to wrap it around the torn flesh.

there is no fear you sense from him, no anxiety at this angry wound - only a weary resignation. it's an exhaustion that you can't help but find familiar.

--

eden was not afraid of death, but he had a hard time trying to figure out why he was still alive.

hours later, as the dawn light filtered through the window, he felt rather than saw your attempt at giving him first-aid.

it was shoddy work, but satisfactory: the result of the exhausted desperation he saw in your eyes as you worked to patch him up for reasons he could not understand.

but why?

at this point, the pain had significantly lessened due to the poultice and he could finally gather his thoughts. eden expected that your kindness would end at the last knot tied for his dressing. if there had been any moment you could have chosen to fled, last night would have been perfect.

instead, he was surprised to see your sleeping form curled up in front of the fireplace. something like relief made him relax at the sight of you, dirty but uninjured. but there. still there.

--

"you didn't leave," he says, his eyes still closed.

you blow into the wooden cup, sending curls of steam into the air. it's a simple broth you made with mushrooms from the barrel, herbs from the garden, and leftover rabbit bones and gristle leftover from a previous meal - nothing special, but nourishing enough.

"open your mouth," you instruct, bringing a spoonful of the hot soup to his lips.

earlier, you had somehow managed to prop him up with some cushions without disturbing himself and his injury. it had been a challenge - the man was so huge - but whatever was in the poultice must have kept him asleep.

he opens his mouth and lets you feed him, groaning in satisfaction as he swallows. a lock of his hair falls over his face, so you push it away and let your hand rest on his jaw to ready him for another serving. the pad of your thumb presses against a slash of soft scar tissue.

"are you okay?" you ask when his breath hitches.

eden's eyes open. they bore into you, wary. you can feel them shift from your face to your bare skin. the events of last night had ruined your shirt, so you were only in a pair of shorts and a sports bra.

"i'm fine." he licks his lips. his gaze falls on the old scar sliced across your neck, a memento from bailey. it's something the hunter would stare at often whenever he would take you. "just give me more."

hours later, you're still not sure why you're keeping him alive. perhaps you felt sorry for him, a man all alone in the wilderness. perhaps it was because if you left, there was hardly any life for you to go back to. at this point, you were definitely behind on your weekly payments, and bailey would not let that slide without making sure you would regret it.

you dip the wash cloth into the warm water, wringing it before gently wiping the hunter's face. blood and grime disappear to reveal scattered scars, a mole, and tawny skin made golden by hours in the sun.

in the weeks you had been held captive by this man, you had never seen his face this close. his features are strong - a sharp jaw, a nose that looks like it had been broken once, and cheeks framed by long locks of dark hair.

despite all the reasons he's given you not to think so, you find him beautiful.

you don't want to admit it, so you tell yourself that the heat that spreads across your face is not from seeing the strong, corded muscles of his bare chest, but the fatigue earned from another day of caring for him.

that was it. that was all.

--

when he comes to, eden sees an angel. her skin is sweet, warm. her touch is gentle, a perfect palm pressed against his forehead. she is beautiful, ethereal. a blessing.

she is everything he has never deserved.

when she opens her mouth, soft lips like fresh petals in the spring, she says, "eden, you're burning up."

the sound of his name is nothing short of salvation.

"fuck!" she says, voice drifting off into the distance. "fuck fuck fuck!"

something like glass presses against his mouth. he turns away.

"why aren't you swallowing it?" she curses. the next thing he sees is her tipping a small amber bottle to her face.

then: warmth. soft petals press against his lips and he gasps at the closeness, at her scent encompassing all of his senses. a tongue probes at his teeth and he opens himself to receive her offering.

sweet liquid fills his mouth: valerian, oregano, echinacea, honey. the taste is similar to the antibiotic tincture he keeps in his pantry.

he takes his good arm and steadies her against his body, pulling her deeper into the kiss. she makes a sound like she's surprised and he feels her hands cup his jaw. he does not deserve any of it, but he wants more. he wants all of her.

"eden," she breathes, pulling away. the angel wipes her wet mouth with the back of her hand, scarlet coloring her cheeks. she rolls off of him.

the absence of her warmth is agony, but before he can call for her, sleep takes him once again.

--

the next morning, you're on top of eden with the flint arrowhead pressed against his neck.

you do not think about the kiss. you do not think about the way he held you as you forced the medicine into his mouth.

in fact, you could end this. right now, you could take the cabin for yourself. there are enough provisions to last you until you find a way to figure out how to live here. all you have to do is -

"do it," he says, eyes clear and watching you. they look like storm clouds. like morning fog. like the water of the crystal lake where he found you.

you pause, hesitant.

for the first time since he brought you here, his eyes soften.

"someone did that to you, didn't they?" he asks, voice thick with fatigue. "they hurt you."

somehow, you know he's talking about the scar on your neck. you remember bailey pinning you to the wall, his pocketknife carving your skin after you bit him for daring to lay his hands on robin.

"i know what that's like," he says, averting his gaze. there's a note of shame in his voice. "to feel helpless."

you see the silvery scar along his jaw.

and then you break. because in the end, you are both just two animals with the same wounds.

you toss the arrowhead away and it clatters on the wooden floor. then you replace your hands at his neck with your mouth against his.

there's a moment of hesitation before he kisses you back, hungry and desperate.

"more," he growls, and you obey by pulling your bra off over your head.

you lean over him and he takes your breast into his mouth, lapping slowly at the soft bud of your nipple with his warm tongue. you mewl, tightening your thighs around his torso.

when he sinks his teeth into your skin, you gasp, taking his hair into your fist. it's going to bruise, but you don't mind.

"more," he says again, licking between your breasts. you feel his fingers tug at the waistband of your shorts and after a moment of shuffling, you oblige.

he grips your thighs as he lowers you down to his face, his breath hot against your wet slit.

moments after he brings his tongue to your clit, you come shaking and whimpering.

although he's fucked you more times than you can count, this is different.

before, he would never take your pleasure into account and would ram into you until he was satisfied. even then, it would not be enough for his appetite. he'd pull you to him for more, no matter how sore or hurt you were.

but now, he's licking small circles in this part of you that aches for his touch, pulling you deeper into him as you shudder. it's exhilarating. you can't get enough of it.

"eden," you breathe, your voice trembling from coming undone once again.

"mm?" he pulls away. his eyes are hazy with lust - storm clouds rolling through the sky, rumbling with thunder.

"i want you inside of me," you tell him, ready for the lightning.

gently, he guides you onto your back. the floor is still warm from his body, the cushions you placed a few days ago soft against the back of your head.

he sheds his shirt, careful not to undo the dressing. you help him unbutton his pants. there's a scar on his hip and you think about biting it.

"are you sure you'll be okay?" you ask, worried that the wound would reopen. "i don't want you to get hurt."

"i'll be fine," he says, trailing kisses along your neck. "as long as you're here to take care of me."

there's a gentleness to his voice, an implied question. you're tempted to say yes, but you're not yet quite sure.

eden presses into you, his length brushing against your clit. you grip his arms, his muscles tight under your fingers, as you moan.

"let me hear them," he breathes. his voice is soft, tender - this is not the roughness of the man who became your captor. "you were always so quiet before."

eden groans, thrusting himself into you with one long slide. his dark hair cascades over you as he lowers his body to meet yours.

"take me," you say, biting your lip at the sheer pleasure curling hot within your core. you buck your hips towards him, meeting him at the hilt. "all of me."

it's his turn to gasp. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his face to yours as he rocks his hips into you.

you kiss the scar on his jaw, tangle your fingers in his hair. the scent of him is earthy, like the forest. you wouldn't mind getting lost in him.

eden huffs, pleasure building within the both of you. you're holding him like that when you begin to come, his name whispered between your lips.

it's not long after that he climaxes, too, burrowing his face into your neck once the shaking stops.

there are a few moments of silence. you hear nothing else but the wind howling outside.

"don't run," he says. so quiet, just barely louder than the crackling of the fireplace.

your bodies are warm and sweat-slicked, glistening with the glow of your embrace.

"i'll protect you." his lips trace the scar on your neck. "i'll provide for you." his mouth brushes yours. "all you have to do is stay." when he lifts his face, you see his eyes shining in the firelight. he's desperate, and you get the sense that he will not ask again.

you think of the life you had before you were taken - the beatings, the stealing, the lying you had to do in order to survive. was it really worth going back to? could you hope to build a new future, one warm with firelight?

your hand finds his. his fingers are strong, callused, but they're gentle. they could be yours, if you want it.

to your surprise, a blush colors your hunter's cheeks. in this moment of tenderness, you find your answer.

"i'll stay," you tell him, like it's a promise. like it's a vow.

[verybadatwriting]

The Winged One

Summary: Bucky falls off the train, but HYDRA doesn't catch him. Someone else does.

Warnings: a fall from a great height, descriptions of fever/sickness/infection,

Notes: Uhhh. I guess you get two fics in one day after me not posting in months. I'm open to doing a part 2, if anybody wants that. Reader is a person, but with wings. (They're an Inhuman, which are kinda like the Mutants) Part 2 is out now! :D

Gn!reader

Word Count: 2,765

A train passed by somewhere far overhead. It almost didn’t warrant note, since it happened fairly often. The white of your wings concealed you perfectly in the snowy landscape. You continued walking when all of a sudden you heard an impact somewhere off to your left. Interested, you picked your way through the low shrubbery in that direction.

There, lying on the cold ground, was a man. His whole left arm was all crushed, and he wasn’t conscious. You knelt next to him, and was surprised to discover that his heart was still beating. Unslinging your bag from your shoulder, you tore off the strap and fastened it into a tourniquet around the small bit of arm left. You straightened up as you finished, and started to figure out what to do with him. 

One fear you had was that he could be a Snake Worshiper. Those foul men had been stinking up the area; forcing train tracks into the landscape, scaring off the animals, and crafting forts and encampments into the woods you once hunted in. 

While thinking, you triaged the man. If you decided to help him, you’d need to know what you’re getting yourself into. His left arm was mostly gone, and the rest of his body was littered with bumps and scrapes. There was a fracture in his collarbone, and one particular bruise on his forehead had you worried that he may have a concussion. 

Then his eyes opened.

“Who are,” He began, but the pain hit him and he gasped. You’d been around the surrounding military bases enough to hear the ways the Snake Worshipers talked, and this was not it. They spoke with harsher consonants and longer words. 

“I am here to assist you.” You said, wishing that you had paid closer attention to this language’s flow. You had some key part of the rhythm off, and it seemed to take the man a few seconds to figure out what you meant. Once he comprehended that you weren’t going to hurt him, he seemed to relax, just a little bit.

Snow began to fall again, and you knew time was ticking. If you were going to save this guy, you would have to do something now. You pulled his remaining arm around your shoulders, and began to walk, half dragging him along. He tried his darndest to help, but it still wasn’t easy going. 

A few paces away from your hovel in the side of a hill, he completely gave out and he tumbled to the ground. The snow was really falling now as you grabbed him and dragged with all your might. You opened the door, dragged him inside, and shut it behind you. After you got a fire going, you rolled him near it, and collapsed into bed. You’d deal with him tomorrow. 

It was not long after sunrise when you awoke. You went just outside the door and dug a pot of soup out from under the thick layer of snow. It was fully frozen, so you smashed off two sizable chunks. You left the rest of it in the pot outside, and brought the chunks in with you to melt over the fire.

At some point you became aware that the man was conscious and observing you. You continued on as normal, and dished out the now-hot soup into two bowls. Turning, you set them on the floor between the two of you, and passed him a spoon. 

But when he tried to sit up, he found that his left arm failed to push off from the ground. He glanced down and dropped the spoon. Horror spread across his face as he stared at the empty spot where his arm used to be. His eyes turned to you.

“The fall.” You tried to explain using the man’s language,“Falling.”

“Oh.” He said. He adjusted, and managed to lean against the bed next to him. Looking around, he took in the room for the first time. 

The walls were made of dirt, the bed had a thick quilt, and he was lying on one as well. There was a shoddily made wicker chair in one corner, and a heavy door with a mat rolled up against the cracks to keep the cold from seeping in. Nothing was level or smooth. It was like it had been made by a very inexperienced craftsman. The room was dark, but would have been pitchblack if not for the roaring fire. The room was small enough that one hearth was enough to warm the whole place.

He then looked at you, and you stared back. You were an unkempt, wild looking teen with two giant wings, eating soup out of a homemade bowl and beckoning for him to do the same. He picked up his spoon and began to eat. He found he was insanely hungry, and devoured it.

Seeing that he’d finished his serving, you took his dish and rose to grab him another from the pot out in the snow.

“Wait,” He said, “Kid, where are you going?” But you didn’t understand his words, so you continued on and opened the door. A cold wall of air flooded the room as you left. The man shivered and pulled the blanket closer around him. 

When you came back inside carrying a pot, and set it on the fire, he seemed to understand. After he’d eaten his fill, the pot was empty. It was meant to last you a few more days, but that didn’t really matter. One less man was dead. On that note, you needed to figure out who this guy was.

“I am,” You said, pointing to yourself, “Y/n.”

The man paused for a second, then pointed at you and repeated your name. You nodded. Then he motioned to himself.

“Bucky.”

The next morning, he was well enough to walk, and so he followed you all around and helped with the basic chores of your days. Foraging, checking traps, repairing old things, really anything that was needed. 

After a day or two of trying to figure each other's language out, Bucky seemed to pick the basics of yours and vice versa. When you added this to a little bit of the Snake Worshiper’s language – Which Bucky told you was German – you’d created a strange mash of language. 

As you showed him how to make a hare trap, he inquired about the elephant in the room.

“How did you get those wings?” He asked, “Were you born with them or…?”

“Oh.” You inhaled, “I don’t really remember the story that goes along with them, nor do I like to remember it. All I know is I was born a normal person, then touched a strange rock and was cocooned in it for hours, and when I emerged I had these.

“My mother was concerned, so she brought me to the town’s cleric, who decided it was best if I was left in the woods for nature to reclaim, since I was obviously cursed. My mother didn’t much like that idea, but she had to go along with it. She sent me out here with the barebones supplies I’d need to survive.”

“I’m so sorry.” Bucky said, “How have you been out here alone?”

“Five winters, give or take.” You replied, “What about you? How did you come to fall from a Snake Worshiper’s train into this valley?”

“Steve – he's the friend I told you about –  Gabe Jones, and I were trying to stop some mad scientist who was on the train. It didn’t go too well.”

“I know.”

“I've been meaning to ask you,” He said, “Do you think it's possible that you could help me get back to my camp?”

“Maybe…” You said, “Let's finish this trap and then I'll show you something.”

“Here it is.” You said, opening a small box you kept on the least crooked shelf. You pulled out an old, faded piece of paper. It was rough around the edges. 

“I’ve been mapping out the actions of any newcomers to the area,” You said, pointing to specific parts of the paper, “Here is where I think your camp is. This thick line is the train tracks. And over in this dark splotch is a Snake Worshiper base.”

“Snake Worshiper… the ones that speak German?” Bucky asked. You nodded. 

“Okay. Where are we on here?” Bucky asked.

“Well…” You sighed, “That's the problem. We're all the way over here.” You poked a spot worryingly close to the Snake Worshiper's base. “And your people's camp is all the way over yonder. It's as far as I've mapped, since I don't have much paper.”

“How long did it take you to map all this?” Bucky asked. 

“It only took me a day's journey to get from home to the – what did you call them? Allies? – base. Sadly for you, I was flying. On foot, that would take close to three days.”

“Should we start preparing for the trip?”

“Of course.”

Hunting, fishing, gathering, even some sewing, was required to prepare. The work went by faster when you had a helping hand, and it gave Bucky a chance to learn how to navigate life with only a single arm.

Everything was almost ready, and you could probably leave in a day or two, but that evening, as you were unwrapping the area where his arm used to be, you noticed it looked strange and had an unpleasant smell.

“Well…” You said, after cleaning the wound, “I think it’s infected. I know some herbs that could help, but it’s a bad one.”

“It was normal this morning.” Bucky said in awe.

“That just means it’s moving fast.”

“How bad is it?”

“I don’t think you’ll survive unless your people have some way of fixing this.” 

“Oh.”

“Our objective doesn’t change, just the degree of urgency.” You said, “We’ve still got to get you back as soon as possible. If it gets worse on the trip, we just have to push through it.”

The next morning, you two were out the door as the sun rose. You had enough food and water to last for the trip, and a sack of herbs that could lessen the infection’s power. He took one dose in the morning. 

That first day of travel was brutal, but not the worst. Occasionally, you’d fly ahead to ensure your navigation was correct. Aside from that, you two walked side by side and talked. It was mostly you asking about his people and his base.

“What’s the food like?”

“It’s not great out here,” He said, “But that’s just because of the war.”

“So there was a time before?”

“Of course!” His face lit up a little as he remembered, and started rambling. “We’d have things like fresh bread, pies, chicken, and meatloaf. Sometimes, as a treat, we’d have pancakes for breakfast. Those were the best days…”

The conversation went on, but over the course of the day his energy decreased and his words became jumbled. His pace slowed, and by the time the sun started to dip beneath the trees, he was barely trudging along. 

As you set up a fire, Bucky was trying to string two hammocks between trees. Eventually, you just told him to sit by the fire and hung them by yourself. You cooked, and then shared a meal with him. He was crashing, fast. To try and combat it, you gave him tea brewed from the herbs, and told him to sleep.

The next morning you packed up the camp, all besides Bucky and his hammock. When you went to wake him he woke up and started incoherently murmuring. He was burning up, sweating, and shivering– definitely in no condition to complete the journey. But you knew if he didn’t make it to his people’s base he wouldn’t make it anywhere.

You wouldn't help him survive this long just to die of an infection in the icy forest. He didn’t survive the fall just for a few days of misery. He didn’t walk a whole day for this. He didn’t learn a whole new language for this. He couldn’t die today.  

So you came up with a plan. After gathering some thin but sturdy strips of wood, you tied them together with strips of your hammock. With a lot of work, you managed to fashion a sort of sled. It had ropes at the front you could pull it from, and a spot for Bucky to lie on top of the bags. 

Carefully, you maneuvered the sled underneath his hammock, and loosened the ropes securing him. He slid down and landed right where he was meant to. He awoke slightly, and looked very confused.

“Hey, you’re okay.” You said, “We’re gonna get you home.”

He seemed to calm down after that. You looped the strap across yourself, and started to pull Bucky across the snow-covered landscape. You swept across the snow, and you barely stopped around noon for a swig of water, to get a bite to eat, and to check on Bucky. He was disoriented, so it took a bit of convincing to get him to drink a few sips of water.

It wasn’t horrible, that first day pulling the sled. Once the sun started to set, you contemplated stopping and sleeping. The pitch darkness surrounded you, so you lit a torch. Shadows flickered at the edges of the light, sometimes looking like a pair of eyes. You wedged the torch into a crack in the ground, to keep it upright while you slept.

You sat Bucky up, and gave him some more water. You wrapped him in as many blankets as you had, then sat at his feet on the edge of the sled. It was deathly cold, but you’d been through this before. During the first few nights after the Cleric had cast you out, you’d figured out that you could tuck your knees to your chest and shield yourself from the cold with your wings.

About halfway through the night you were awoken by a gagging sound. Turns out, Bucky’s infection had gotten worse, his fever raged on, and he was now heaving up the few sips of water he’d had. You sat him up and turned him so he would throw up into the snow, and not choke.

After you were reasonably sure he was done, you decided to continue onwards, despite the night. You grabbed the now long extinguished torch and pushed off the ground into the sky to see if you recognized anything. 

Far ahead, there was a river. If you moved fast, you could probably reach it by dawn. Then you could stop for a bit, refill water and such. You enjoyed the air swirling around you, making you feel weightless. But you knew you had to descend sooner or later. You dipped your wings, and glided downwards. To combat the forward motion, you angled them to swoop in a slow spiral.

Landing softly, you checked on Bucky once again. His arm was much worse. You cleaned it, applied more herbs, and wrapped it back up. It looked quite painful, and you could only hope that he couldn’t feel it through his feverish sleep. 

All day was spent sprinting through the forest. Night fell, and you could tell you were drawing close to the Allied base. The shrubs were growing sparse, and the smells of humanity wafted through the air. Right when the camp was in view, you stopped. Shrouded in darkness and trees, you unhooked yourself from the sled. 

Taking one loop of Bucky’s hammock in each hand, you rose steeply into the air. From above, the camp seemed like a maze of tents. You searched for a symbol of a red ‘x’ on its side, which Bucky had told you was the doctor’s emblem. After spying a tent bearing the sign, you awkwardly descended to the ground. 

You untangled Bucky from the hammock, and balled it up. He hadn’t gained consciousness all day. His only hope was the doctors here.

Taking a breath to steady yourself, you knelt next to him.

“Goodbye.” You whispered, “Thank you for being my friend.” You took a large stick and banged it against the metal pole of the tent to draw attention to him before you flew away. As you soared into the woods, you glanced back. People streamed over, and you could barely see them taking Bucky into the tent.

After bringing the sled deeper into the woods, you set off for home.

Part 2

[not-poignant]

Hi Pia!

In response to your recent post, I have carpal tunnel and stretching actually does not help. I do try to rest my wrists and fingers a lot, but do you have any other tactics you’ve used that have worked for you? Not looking for anything to follow as proper medical advice, just curious for new ideas to try out!

Take this with a grain of salt (not a doctor, as we all know! Just someone who writes a lot and has chronic RSIs in both wrists) but the type of rest you do is really important.

For example, wrist splinting can be really helpful, but only in specific ways.

Soft splints are best during the day, but both hard and soft wrist splints can make the pain worse if you're someone who unconsciously compresses the nerve further by bending your wrist into the splint throughout the day. If you can train yourself to stop doing this, soft wrist splints during the day - esp during rest periods - can help a lot.

Hard splints overnight can be amazing, but only if you don't contort your wrists while you sleep. This one is tough. I am a chronic wrist bender at night, and have literally woken up with my hands completely numb because of it. So hard splints are out of the question for me. It's been suggested to me to wear them for the first hour of lying down because I don't fall asleep straight away, to give my wrist a solid chunk of time of pure rest and then take it off before sleeping. 30 minutes of hard splinting where you can stop yourself from bending into the hard part is better than 30 minutes without it. Ditto a soft splint.

Carpal tunnel can be brutal, don't rule out seeing a physiotherapist or physical therapist who specialises in hand issues, or an occupational therapist who does the same. And my grandma had surgery for her carpal tunnel (twice!) and doesn't regret it. I also believe cortisone injections can be helpful, but come with the downside that they're more likely to increase pain in the long-term due to how steroids act on tissues overall. So cortisone should be used cautiously imho. (As in, it's not a long-term solution. It doesn't cure anything. And it can actually make some things worse).

I personally found hot and cold soaks pretty helpful. I have some arthritis in my hands so this is part of it. Ymmv on this one. Cold soaks reduce inflammation, hot soaks increase blood flow. Both can help with nerve impingement and joint pain. There will be guidelines online as to the best way / how long to do these.

Keeping a log of the pain specifically in your wrist / thumb, or the discomfort or numbness. Rating it on a level, and writing down everything you did in the hours leading up to bad flares. For me, learning that cross-stitch was actually the worst thing I did for my ulnar nerve entrapment was the thing that has helped most in knowing what I need to stop doing immediately when symptoms flare. I thought it was my writing, and I was wrong. My writing set up is actually pretty comfortable for my hands (see below), but once the cross-stitch caused a flare, writing perpetuated it and I'd mistakenly think the writing was the problem because I do that every day. You might be surprised which things can cause your worst flares. (Or not!)

Rest is rest. This one is hard. When it's our hands, we use them for literally everything. Often when we 'rest our wrists' it means stopping doing the things we know are direct triggers, but nothing else. But it actually means near complete rest from cooking, preparing food, petting our animal companions, holding our phone or tablet in bed or at a table, etc. This is where soft splints come in handy, they show us just how much we're using our wrists by how inconvenient they are to wear re: daily operation. As a teaching device we see quickly 'oh shit I twist my wrist badly for brushing my hair, oh shit I contort it for petting my dog behind the ears, oh shit, I've been stirring this pot at a weird angle for 10 minutes.'

Imho I don't wear splints for showering / bathroom / food. But will put it on during complete rest (which I reserve for pain + numbness flares). I will give myself about 2 days of that, and I try to treat it as seriously as a virus or flu because I don't want surgery! And obviously surgery for nerve and hand issues runs in the family.

Look into the ergonomics of the things that cause you flares. Often carpal tunnel can be exacerbated by how you hold your shoulders and elbows when you're doing the the things that cause flares. Look at whether the size of your mouse is too big for your hand (most are), look into how your wrists rest when you type on a keyboard, all of these things when adjusted for can make a big positive cumulative difference.

Getting a small Roccat Kone mouse, while expensive comparatively, stopped some of the issues in my right thumb. Because finally I had a mouse that fit my hand. (Most computer mice are designed for AMAB hands, as a result most AFAB people who use them basically long-term hurting their hands without realising - the heel of your palm should be able to rest on the mouse pad, your index and middle fingers should comfortably always be able to reach the left and right clickers without ever stretching and the thumb should rest naturally in the thumb rest if there is one. Most mice don't let the heel of the hand rest on the mouse pad without stretching for most AFAB people).

If you're using a laptop keyboard, stop as soon as you can and find a keyboard (ideally mechanical switch) that isn't high impact on your fingertips and use that. There are a lot of good, cheap bluetooth options these days. I cannot stress enough how bad laptop keyboards are for fingers and nerve issues in the hands. I type millions of words on my keyboard, I have callouses on all of my fingertips because of it. Trust me when I say you want something that will encourage your fingertips not to slam into the baseboard.

Don't get me started on if you do most of your writing on your phone. x.x The cramped positions we have to put our fingers in to both hold our phone and type is - to say the least - something younger folks get away with and older folks pay for. It's not healthy for our hands. Or wrists. Or elbows. Or shoulders. There's very few ways to make this healthy. Phones are just literally not designed to have a comfortable typing process re: cramping fingers and palms and wrists. They're designed for convenience, not carpal tunnel.

Be extremely wary of nerve flossing exercises that aren't designed for your specific issues. A lot of the Tiktok type ones are 'stretching in disguise' and can make pain worse. There's often no harm in trying them, but if the pain doesn't go away after a few days and/or gets worse, stop. I personally cultivated a curiosity atttiude. 'I'll try that for a few days and see.'

As always, professionals know more about this stuff! But make sure you're seeing hand specialists, otherwise you're likely to get more outdated information.

[taylortruther]

the bolter, like an animal that learns to run from real danger: us traitors never win and i was a flight risk with a fear of falling, i jump from the train, i ride off alone and you wouldn’t be the first renegade to need somebody and i’ll make myself at home and he’ll want me to stay but i never had the courage of my convictions as long as danger is near and it's just around the corner, darling, because it lives in me, nothing lasts forever… and i took your matches before fire could catch me, i’m the wind in our free-flowing sails and i gave it my all, he gave me nothing at all, then wondered why i left and the bravest thing i ever did was run and believe me, i could do it

[strawberrywinter4]

So. This is part of two things.

May 15 Prompt: Nightmare, from @calaisreno’s prompt list. Check out their wonderful prompts!

AND

It’s a sneak peak for my current WIP: A Gentleman’s Shrine. You can find the post of what this fic is going to be about here.

Warnings: PTSD and Violence

A little context: This story takes place after WWI in England. John is on his way to the Noble Legacy Gala (explained in the post that I linked), and he catches himself in a nightmare.

•*•*•*•

It’s constant. Redundant. Persistent. Ceaseless.

Never-ending.

John only hears his panicked breaths, higher than normal. Dust is caught in his throat, gunfire is ringing in his ears. His sweaty hands are clinging to his rifle like it’s his one and only. Both German and English intertwine and he’s not sure which one he’s supposed to speak. He doesn’t believe he can speak.

Before John knows it, he catches a soldier’s head being pierced by a bullet, another taking the wrong step and his body detonates, blood splattering everywhere. He can’t move, or more like he doesn’t want to move because what the fuck is this?

This isn’t what he signed up for, it’s not. This doesn’t feel prosperous or close to honor. This doesn’t feel like he’s fighting for anything, let alone his country.

No, he is in the presence of hell. The Western Front is where men turn into something equivalent to animals, fighting for land they will never step foot on. It is where intelligent minds turn into a sequence of survival instincts. It is where all humanity comes to an end.

“Get up, Watson!” John barely registers a strong hand pull on his arm, hoisting him up and out of the mud mixed with blood. “You’re gonna die if you don’t–”

Whoever was speaking to him is shot to the floor, his limp body hitting the mud John was just near unconscious on. Limping away, John stumbles through the trench, looking for…something. Or was it someone? Was he even looking for anything in the first place? What was he searching for? What was he after? What is the point?

Someone charges after him with a close—combat knife, and John holds his rifle up and shoots. He shoots the man. He’s dead. He’s–

No. No, no, no. What has he done? What has he–

John kneels down next to the man, checking vital signs, as if that will accomplish anything. He hears him mutter something in German, but John doesn’t understand, he doesn’t understand anything. Realizing he’s doing everything in the wrong order, John tries to press down on the wound and attempts to stop the flow, but it's no use. When a river begins, it doesn’t cease.

John sobs, repeating an apology that won’t do any good. He’s a doctor, he’s trained for this, he can help. He can help, he can sort this out and get this man to safety because he has a family at home and they’re waiting for him. They’re waiting for him and John’s made their wait worth nothing.

This is wrong, this is all wrong. He wants to go home. He wants to go back to Mum and Harry. He doesn’t want to forget the feeling of sitting at the dinner table and eating his mum’s soup.

Keep the pressure, keep the pressure. Don’t let this man die.

He doesn’t want to forget the voice of his sister, cracking jokes and hearing his mum scold her for the inappropriate ones.

The man is dead, but John doesn’t stop the pressure. He will never stop. He will never stop apologizing, and he will never forget the man muttering in German, “Please, God, let me live.”

——

John screams as he wakes, jolting up in his seat. He takes several deep breaths, trying to calm himself, return to a leveled mindset that he didn’t have during the war.

“Sir?” a man’s voice asks. “Sir, are you well?” He puts a hand on John’s shoulder and John flinches away. Realizing his rude behavior, John forces himself to lose the tension in his body, shifting in his seat. He swallows.

“Uh–yes. Yes, I apologize. I…” John looks around the train, seeing the other participants staring at him with horrified expressions. Mothers hold their children tightly and fathers grace him with disturbed looks. John forces his eyes to the crew member, who seems unsure of what to do in this position. “Only a nightmare,” John dismisses, clearing his throat.

“Should…we move you to another cart?” the man asks, eyes flickering to the other people seated.

John’s jaw clicks. “No, this isn’t to happen again, I assure you. I’ll be fine here.”

With hesitance, the man nods. “Alright, then. Would you care for any refreshments?”

“No,” John says. “Thank you.” The man leaves and John’s face burns. He’s made a fool of himself, he never should have fallen asleep, no matter how long the journey is.

Everyone in the cart begins to forget about the outburst, going back to their conversations or finishing their small meals. John rests his head on the back of his seat and stares out the window, watching plains of grass pass by and sheep being heard.

John should soon be arriving at the next train station soon enough. He closes his eyes, wondering what his life has become.

*•*•*•*

I hope you all enjoyed this little sneak peak! I saw the prompt for today and thought it was perfect for this. This fic is currently in the works and I promise that it includes a lot of research, not just assumptions or blind facts, haha. So I’m certainly trying my best ❤️

Tags: @a-victorian-girl @whatnext2020 @totallysilvergirl @thegildedbee @with-a-ghost-mr-holmes @jawnn-watson @blogstandbygo @lisbeth-kk @holmesianlove @7-percent @itsonlytext @chinike @peanitbear @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @ghostofnuggetspast @dw91165 @jolieblack @gwendelaneyisjohnlocked @cortina @kettykika78 @johnlockbbc

(Let me know if you want to be tagged in the future)

[sw33tsnow]

Enchanted by the aching wounds

- (III) / (III)

Mercenary!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Harpy!F!Reader (18+)

Warning: NOT FOR MINORS, mentions of blood, mentions of violence, slight angst, fluff, smut, cunnilingus, bj, p in v, unprotected sex, etc. #: I'M TERRIBLY APOLOGIZE FOR ANY GRAMMAR ERRS AND THE DELAY, don't really know why this part is kinda cheesy but please enjoy.

Wordcount: 5k3

19th century vocabs (if needed):

Pap(s): Nipple(s)

Meater: A coward

Blimey(!): An expression of surprise

(A) footman: (A) servant

Brass hat: Train conductor

Don’t sell me a dog: Don’t lie to me

The galley: Kitchen

THE FIRST PART || THE SECOND PART

Spring

The season when the frigid white snow melts away to make way for new shoots to sprout, when the air is filled with the fresh aroma of flowers in blossom, and when any races require a roof over their heads. It used to be a sacred notion which all kinds looked forward to - a time when couples, regardless of humans, fairies, or animals, were inextricably bound together. Almost forgot, the rain, the exuberant and the prickle when the fresh drops of water blew on your skin and feathers as you tore the winds and parted the clouds upon the vast sky were indescribable.

Perhaps as the same as a lonely, barren tree bark that’s rejuvenated - you felt revived, and it should’ve been like that, it should've been the season you loathed the least.

Spring

All things proliferate, regardless of races.

You've opted to find a persuasive excuse for being absent for a few days after this last job since your estrus period, referred to as heat, has arrived and symptoms have begun to occur. If you're near mankind - species that couldn't satisfy you, you'd certainly cause harm to the gentlemen, whether unconsciously or not. But at the moment, all your attempts have gone down the drain.

Spring

Flabbergasted? The stench? Couldn't truly declare.

Crimson sprayed from your body, staining the meticulous pattern of the tiles on the garden floor. The agony did not reach your brain because your nerves were unable to respond to the abrupt slash, you suddenly lurched back and dropped to your knees, realizing that you had been ambushed because of the unclear shouting that was echoing in your eardrums which came from the other four members. Promptly reversing the gun's barrel then blasting off the foot of the goddamn douchebag in front of your sight, before your own body began to lose awareness, you raised your far-too-bloated arm to shoulder level and flicked your wrist. Your trembling fingers moved in the direction of the men, the white rose fence has been dyed with an alluring but dreadful tint aggressively protruded and crushed the bones of others rivals. 

Successfully drew the men’s attention to their backs, you crawled up and leaned your head against the wall since the icy cold of the rain made you feel nauseous more than ever.

Mother, have mercy

Your darkest dread was going to be revealed, the dirty truth you had fought to keep hidden from the One-Four-One was about to be disclosed, and the thoughts made your dizziness worse.

The blood pool kept flowing and your vision has blurry, leaving you helpless to let your ferae naturae prevailed. 

Spring

Your scales emerged out from under your smooth skin and clung around the mortal wound, as if protecting it, creating dissonant cracking or crumbling noises.

Your horns plus claws grew out, yet the coal black hue of the nails crept down to your fingers, and spikes started to pierce out before stopping when they were almost reached your elbows.

The garment was shredded pathetically as your figure and wings enlarged extraordinarily. Although you seemed unlikely to be any larger than the men, bet that your wings could clamp three like them down without any difficulties.

Your legs, the ravishing legs that Simon always cherished, have been replaced by skinny bird ones with pale skin wrapped around them.

Your far more susceptible than usual body would respond immediately with just a small stimulus, but this cut would definitely leave an unforgettable souvenir.

Witnessing the scene frightened the meater who had just attacked you, he started screaming as dashing off with his paralyzed foot. Your neck snapped in half, causing your head to twist back in a frightful angle and furious pupils poking directly into that pathetic back. In the twinkling of an eye, your levitating silhouette fleeted forward and pounced on the hapless head. Sharp talons dug deep into his skull and wrinkled facial skin before tilting it back, the corners of your lips were stretched close to your ears and your chin was pulled down as your jaw fractured, white fangs jagged in horror on your pink gums and tongue was elongated.

Ultimately, the yelling has stopped when some of your wet stray hairline dangling near the vile man to bite and yank his entire face apart.

Rain....

Thunders rumbled so loud that consciousness seized hold of your mad mind and made you dully dropped the pulseless limbs onto the damp ground.

Landing soundlessly after spitting out the mishmash in your mouth, you looked up to the ether and quivering non-stop as if you were praying to Mother Nature, begging Nak to let you off the hook and wash away your sins, knowing damn well you did not deserve Her precious tears. 

What have you done? Wasn't your craving enough to torture you? Why did everything have to end like this?

“Blimey....” The voice with a distinguished twang echoed.

Burying your teeth into your lips in order to stop the weeping, your disembodied hands wrapped solid around your shoulder blades, and your head shook in denial.

You couldn't turn back, you couldn't tell but also refused to confront the men's glimpse. Please allow you to be prone to vulnerability at this point, permit you to escape this devastating reality. You didn't want to admit but didn't want to suffer from being misunderstood either, but you lacked enough strength to undertake things proper anymore.

The sound of single-bell horns mounted on a steam locomotive and metal scraping across the rails served as an alarm. Glancing up at the mansion's turret clock, you knew this was the last trip, the train that your crew had to catch half an hour prior at a station roughly ten minutes distant by horseback from your current location.

"Damn it......Cap, we must make haste" The youngest dashed to grab the leather bag and urged the Captain.

It's already too late and topography was somewhat off your favorable side - no seashore nearby to afford a ship nor could you find any automobiles. The One-Four-One was still human, obviously their legs were not as resilient as Centaurs' and their biological physicals did not possess the gills that Sirens had to breathe underwater.

The only choice for you all was the arranged carriage on the train, and you had no intention of allowing it to stray away like that after faltering your squad.

Wiping away your tears, you stood up and shook your sodden wings. With a flap, you quickly headed towards the gentlemen and grabbed them by each foot, palms capturing the collars of the other two, avoiding the sharp claws from injuring the back of their necks. The suddenness caused Kyle and Soap to hug your hindlimbs tightly, terrified to open their eyes. Adjusting your fingers so as not to make Simon and Price breathless, you silently spread your wings and sped away, attempting not to make any excessive noises.

Finding a safe spot to land proved to be impossible, so you gently dropped the men onto the roof of the numbered train car and took off without sparring a word.

"Come back!" The blond's gruff voice barked out and he took a couple more strides forward as you remained silent, disappearing into the night.

"Ghost, we need to make our way inside…." The Captain placed his hand on the taller man's shoulder, causing his furious gaze to move downward, "….at once".

Soaked attires along with different size boots were dripping on the clean floor, the men entered their carriage right before the brass hat showed up to check their tickets. 

“This’s absurd, why did little lass not comin’ with us?” Soap’s voice cut across the carriage when they were left alone, “She’s plannin' to leave, 's she not?”  

“I believed tha’ remain to be seen” Kyle bluntly answered the eerie question. 

Price indicated them to be quiet with a finger to his lips before the talk devolved into a verbal dispute. The pensive silence made the room appear stuffy. Of course, they've noticed your abnormal behavior recently, but did not expect the outcome to be so hostile.

Your feathers shed more, you're easily startled by the slightest movement, and you started to avoid becoming acquainted with all four of them after a certain amount of time. The sleeves that you usually rolled up have been pushed down, displaying only your fingertips, although they're difficult to detect unless you're having meals together. 

Abruptly all eyes were drawn to the blond. Simon would undoubtedly have a better insight of the situation. However, this was not the ideal timing.

As Simon shut his lids and recalled the arrival of early spring, pangs of apprehension and remorse erupted inside him. You became reluctant to be near him, let alone shower together or sleep in the same bed. You refused looking him in the eyes whenever you both were in a conversation, but still, you reassured him that everything was fine.

For somebody's sake, the man wanted to punch himself so hard for not mucking in with the troubles you seemed to be undergoing. You were always there regardless of whether he had nightmares, always there if the crew needed encouragement or a soothing embrace, and always there when they sought assistance in tackling any issues. Yet when you struggled in anguish, they couldn't do anything but watch dumbfounded. 

The men had never seen this side of you before, so they were taken aback. When you brutally beheaded the footman and still managed to move gracefully while holding four adults, they wondered why the fairies agreed to secrete and allow mortals to exercise authority over their beautiful lands in the past.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_

You were the crystallization of a magnificent match between a Harpy and a Faun, which explained why you've got an exquisite gift and horns that the Aborigines didn't have.

Reasons?

When only a few dispersed varieties persisted, maintenance and survival became more essential than preserving the purity of each species after countless lives were sacrificed in that grueling purge. 

Over decades, more and more bloodlines combined, and flaws began to arise. With the law preventing cross-breeding, pristine matters similar to you fairies originated for a broad spectrum of purposes. If defiled, infants would bear the pitiful results when they're born and the frightening appearance which you owned was in fact an unanticipated consequence.

To make circumstances even more severe, you were forced to endure the mating seasons exhaustively and emotionally unstable since you grew up solitary, violently in the world that was not meant for kind races such as you.

Weeks in the sun cycles and centuries among thousands of moon orbits, ended up being captured to humor the wealthy mankind 'folks' - you've found a new home, one in which you sense shielded when you return, with no tendrils and tattered pieces of sack put together haphazardly. You meet the One-Four-One and the gentlemen treated you as if you were the family's smallest daughter, you've learned that humanity was not all obnoxious. And you were taught how to love.

The man you fell for was rugged but pretty with milky scars and handsome blond hair, he's affectionate though spiteful somehow. Perhaps most importantly, he has a special place particularly for you, only you. 

It made you thrilled by the fact that you both took time confiding in each other. No matter how hesitant you were, you expected to dedicate yourself to Simon this season, claiming his endearment and expressing your sentiments. Remarkably, you've put an end to everything. 

_-_-_-_-_-_-_

The moonlight was immensely bright so the dismal hallway was still illuminated without oil lamps, making it even simpler to conceal his massive figure. Simon loomed at the half-closed door to your chamber, it's been over a week since you left and the man hasn't slept at all. In other words, he refused to sleep, cautious of the magnitude of what might turn out without you by his side. 

The thoughts made his knuckles white from grasping the hilt of the knife. Sliding his other arm to the doorknob, he peaked inside to find all of your drawers laying on the floor, no sign of you. When the sounds of gingerly footsteps and the bizarre whistling breezes triggered Simon's instincts, he immediately assumed, no, hoped that you’re back, only to be disappointed. 

Discreetly entering the room and staring towards the open window, the man believed that it was perhaps a bunch of thieves who fled after they couldn't obtain any valuable goods. He sheathed the dagger after tugging down the cloth that's covering his lower face, then approached the feverishly blown curtains with the intent of wrapping them up but they succeeded in falling off from his grasp. Like there was some terrible impact, the drapes fluttered and slowly fell down after obscuring the scenery outside, standing out there, bare-footed on the balcony was you - glowing underneath the marvelous silky gleam, wings flexed widely to balance.

His head whipped up and yours tipped down, burnt chestnuts struck ambers, orbs widening.

Mouths moved in sync but no speech was heard. Time seemed to halt, breathing was labored and tremulous, chest heaving and gaze unwavering. 

Silent, awfully silent. 

Simon gulped hard and remained motionless as you brushed past him through the bumpy wooden door.

“Did ye come to admonish me?” You’re avoiding his presence, your tone was flat and mockery, back turned to him.

The man’s lack of response was not intentional, rather, he wasn't sure he followed you. The chilly air around as if millions of needles were pricking every cell in his shape made him realize he was not dreaming, you’re unharmed, he silently rejoiced.

“Where 'ave ye been?” The blond cautiously whispered, answered you with another question.

You huffed and shook your head frustratedly before directing your gaze towards a mountain of a man standing unfazed behind you. Your foot rhythmically tapped the ground, sounding clearly due to the awkward solitude, causing Simon to blink perplexed at your peculiar behaviour.

“Is tha’ a threat?”

“Wha’...?” The blond frowned. He couldn't fathom what you mean by that. Not to mention the unpleasant attitude of yours which successfully edged him.

It's only a typical question adhering to your prolonged absence. And a threat, what made you think that he’s threatening you?

“Wha’ do ye mean, ye were on my mind this whole ti-” 

“Oh don’t sell me a dog” You snapped, tongue poked into your cheek from inside of your mouth. Simon appeared startled, he understood nasty comments you could make at times, but this particular instance was just too much for him. 

With two bulky arms folded across the broad chest, the man inhaled deeply and approached you slowly, steely gazes never left yours - a warning. You haven't forgotten, just because Simon has a soft spot for you did not obligate him to pamper you always. You were doing this on purpose, and you knew he's aware of your intentions as well. Simon 'Ghost' Riley, a remorseless killer who was not to be messed with, cold-hearted and treacherous, the same as a phantom applied to him. 

But there was no other option, you had to push him away, as far as possible. 

“Look at me, luv” The blond’s low voice was almost inaudible, it was…..miserable and unpleased, which surprised you. 

With the others, Simon would not tolerate this insolence, and you remembered how much you enjoyed watching the plays out. Yet these calloused palms that have only performed dirty work here tenderly stroke your cheeks as though afraid of harming you, and those traumatized eyes this time sparkled with warmth that melted you and engulfed you irrevocably. 

This man was indeed a genius at making you feel like such a barb. He couldn't act like this, he's not allowed to. You could not withstand him being patient with you like this. No, you have to be tough, you’d not be willing to let the wall you've built be knocked down in such a hurry.

“‘M beggin ye, don’t chastise me like this” He plead, “Talk to me”

“Talk, ye said” You took a step back to escape the man's embrace and headed to your bed to begin packing, “From the man I have spent days with as a friend, I would have expected…more”. You paused for him to speak but he refused, so you continued, “More appreciation”

“What's exactly tha’ 'm not appreciating correctly?” 

“This!!” You expressed your anger with an elevated tone and lifted your arms to above your head, still being stubborn to not face him, “This goddamn circumstance….just why are ye so persistent?, 'm only tryin' to protect ye” From me, you wanted to shout out so bad.

“Luv…”

“Do not call me by tha’ name” You threw the corset into the luggage on your mattress exaggeratedly.

“I understand tha’ ye found such subjects as love, or devotion….a-and affection or attachment were frivolous and cliché. Then why, when do ye care so much?” You stuttered and steadied your lungs, again, waiting for him to say something, “Damnit Si, if ye don’t open yer-”

“I once thought ‘bout leaving everything behind to search for ye” One of Simon's habits was to start a conversation out of the blue.

Just like a slap to your face. Zipped your lips immediately.

“I used to believe tha’ my entire existence had no meaning after my family was murdered cruelly tha’ night….” He took a step closer, “....until I met ye”.

“Ye freed me from this torment, making me long to curl up in yer puffy feathers. It was ye who persuaded me tha’ s’alright to be Simon, making me weak before yer loving eyes as ye observed my hideous wounds” The blond was rarely verbal, you had no clue he could form such ethereal sentences like these, “Yer soft lips, voice, and smile...I yearn for all of ye” 

The shorter the distance between the two of you, the more his voice trailed off. Few inches left, his shadow towered over you and the melody of his heart beating was so near because simply a slight lean back would anchor you in his solid chest. You could tell by the rapid breathing fanning on the top of your head that those words had taken a lot out of him. 

“Nights after nights…..I dream of ye” The man snaked his muscle arms around your waist as he lowered his lips and nibbled your earlobe.

“I did not ask for this, luv….” Thick accent grumbled to your sensitive neck, “To be plagued by these feelings”, he sniffed “To be deluded by this, nah, your scent”

"I burn for ye"

The blond has succeeded in making your goosebumps and plumes stand on end. From the most primitively, females were drawn to males' maneuvers and growls, especially whilst in estrus. Simon appeared to have found out what was causing your symptoms, and you'd lose your composure if he kept turning you on. 

Knowing that you're unable to squirm away, Simon's restless hands started wandering all over your body as you gritted your teeth in an attempt to stop him, though it was clearly futile.

“We’re two separated species.....divided by blood and conduct” You hissed, held your shivering arm up to his sight and tore off the fabric, revealing the ugly claws and black digits. “Ye saw me that night, Si…..I’m a monster, the creature ye’re supposed to despise, to spit on, to put a spear through its head” 

Who’d you expect to cosset you for who you truly are when your tone was broken as your eyes were full of contempt when pierced at yourself? 

Nonsense

That's why your wrist was abruptly snatched and brought back. Before you could react,  from the corner of your eye, you watched Simon's pink tongue poke out and mapped a moist line down your elbow to your middle finger. The man flipped your arm over and did the exact same action, rejecting to avoid areas where the scales protruded jaggedly. As he planted several more kisses on your pointed talons, his long lashes trembled and his glossed honey pupils beckoned you. 

“Oh?” The blond grumbled and his brows furrowed unpleasantly, you swore his tone just dropped an octave lower than usually.

Morals fabricated anecdotes and beliefs to serve as spiritual sustenance when they were led astray by diseases or decimated by catastrophes. Owing to the absence of Mother Nature and you fairies, who were no longer offering them protection.

Gods, Saints, and other vacant illustrations have no effect on Simon - his life ended up being an utter misery. Blood, sweat, and tears, so much mayhem that his mind felt as if it was shrouded in fog.

Then when the blond focused on you - your wet locks sticking to the pale skin and wings slumping in ache, skeletal hands holding your bare frame like you were soothing yourself, creating the most poetic painting which had already been tarnished by bloody white rose petals scattered across the entire surface.

You sat there, bursting into tears, elegantly blending in with your surroundings. 

A fallen angel, his one and sole true goddess.

How vulgar was Simon that your devastated stage caused his sheer shaft to twitch eagerly, making his fists clenched hard so as to restrain himself.

"Should I prove ye wrong, sweet thang?" To you, he wished to make amends.

Your lips parted in surprise, and your mouth dried out compared to a desert amid the scorching heat. O Almighty Nak, you didn't dare to affirm but this man wanted you just as badly as you desired him.

The Aborigines' knowledge and trickery were ineffectual at this point since with Simon, you were nothing further than an idiot, and you’ve never told falsehoods - so no doubt that you’d gladly concede that inferior status if he said please with these lustly eyes.

Being a man of action, Simon swiftly scooped you off your feet and spun you around. You yelped when he tore your trousers away, grasping his forearms and expanding your wings in response to the unannounced action but immediately withdrew your hands since you had pricked him bled.

Not that easy, the blond hooked your thighs over his shoulder blades then reached out for your palms to lay them against his scalp, not letting go until you obediently held him with your own strength. 

"Steady" he cooed, making your core stirred with ecstasy. Bulky arms supported your soft arsecheeks and held you close, the man used his teeth to pry the tunic's hem out of his way and started pressing his face deeper between your legs.

It's the steaming breath coming from underneath that you felt first, eliciting a tiny mewl from you. His lips - feasting greedily on your clit, and the bridge of his nose with care nudged your labias as his tongue began to stir your inside. A wave of fulfillment crashed into you, blurring your vision and you arched your back to grant him a better access. The man adjusted the angle and firmly placed his whole mouth over your dripping cunt, kneading your plumps harder while humming with awe as your slender fingers began to claim the initiative.

“Dearest….” You swallowed and tried your best to not buck your hips too much, “I-’m feelin’ empty, still”

“Such a needy bird, aren’t ye?” He teased, low chuckle sending vibration, earning a lewd gasp from you.

Simon was quick to give in. His two thick rough digits found their way, slipping in and out of your softness expertly, causing your chest to rise and fall quicker. Raising a palm to rub your stiff paps, your gummy walls clenching as the blond thoughtfully tended to your swollen clit that was thought to be forgotten by his thumb.

Overwhelmed, you buried Simon's mouth deeper to your lower body, nearly suffocating him. He intensified his tempo, encouraged by your heels putting more pressure on his muscular back, chasing your almost giving up from denying arousal. 

So despicable, so seductive.

"Wait!" Your scream came out at the volume of a whisper, but the man was satisfied by the intense shaking of your limbs. Rather than letting you go hurriedly, Simon took his time sucking on your fragile sex, letting you ride your high out onto his face.

What Simon has been craving for so long was this, the taste of your devine.

One last lazy and molten stripe over the entire of your pond, hole to your bud, and he slid you down. Face to face, the mixture of saliva and slick glistening on the masculine lower visage of his boiled your blood and your wings flapped in embarrassment.

"Look at ye, down right flushed" Spoken with a cheeky grin and you smacked his bicep playfully, "If I knew ye could make these chirpy sounds, would’ve given ye ma face sooner, darlin’" 

"How can a gentleman talk so foully?" You laughed impotently, urging Simon to drop you down.

Hesitantly, the man quietly lowered you tip-toed on his feet before unbuttoning and slid the piece of clothing down from your subtle flesh. Calloused palms nonchalantly glided over the keloid scar that spanned from your collarbone to your navel, leaving innumerable splits around the wound's margins. Similar to a mountain surrounded by inescapable, endless abysses.

"It's a crime for a gentleman to leave his woman unjolly" His voice sounded sorrowful.

You understand Simon wasn't envious of you like you did, and you realized that if he was volunteering to expose his flaws to you, suppressing yours must have concerned him greatly.

So gently guiding the man to sit on the edge of your bed, you knelt between his legs and helped him remove his outerwear after. The blond sought to stop you, but you gave him a meaningful look, stopping him instead.

"If so, will this gentleman accept a proper punishment?" With a defeated grumble, he lifted his hand to stroke his messy hair as you offered him a toothy smile. 

“Right…’m all yers” 

This surreal feeling, if only your mouth had made Simon so aflame, the man didn't know if he could restrain himself when he's actually inside you.

Wet and filthy, your long tongue curled around his manhood and refused to let go as your head bobbed back and forth steadily. Despite leaving the window open, the room was unbearably humid since the naughty sticky noises you made while picking up the pace to please him. He really didn't want to bliss at the moment, he wanted to fill your inside till your needs were whole.

That explained why he lifted you up and positioned you on his meaty thighs. Your eyes widened as Simon smashed your lips together, all teeth and tongue, sloppy and ravenous, much like the yearning you two shared. Sliding one arm back and folding it up to grip Simon's shoulder, you rested your knees on the mattress and pointed the tip of his cock by your other hand directly at your entrance before slowly sinking down.

You both had to stop and struggle to regain your respiration due to the intrusion, though you two were feverishly nibbling each other's lips. Couldn't deny that the blond's thing was indeed large, but your pussy wasn't that loose either.

“Am I hurtin’ ye, luv?” Simon asked as your face scrunched up.

“S’not yer doin’” You chuckled breathily, earning a low giggle from the man. 

Once you were moving, Simon gave you one loving cup on your cheek and one firmly on your waist to assist in keeping you stable. You tipped your head into that toasty palm, lips rejoined and hips rocked in sync, lazily built up layers of ecstasy. 

The discomfort faded and evolved into bliss. Panting, moaning, praising, too inebriated with one another, you were on the verge of orgasm, yet you wanted more.

This wasn't enough. More intense, faster, you needed to be more drunk in Simon, but your strength was diminishing.

"Retreat yer wings, birdie," the blond commanded, sort of, and your body solely listened in an unconscious practice.

Quickly switching places and pinning you underneath him, Simon brought your legs over his shoulder and waist before thrusting into your damped cunt furiously. He massaged your bosom and lapped the other side relentlessly, got your pap to swell to a gorgeous hue.

“This’s what ye want?” 

“For. My. Cock. To. Shove. Deep. Into thi’ -ha- greedy hole….eh?” The man accentuated every word. His sturdy torso was straight up, however his hips continued the frantic pounding which drew not only the wild sounds from where the two of you were bonding, but also the creaking of the bed became more and more audible.

Your jaw dropped and your head bounced back, releasing a barrage of sultry mewls that Simon had to force you to suck on his calloused fingers to get yourself shushed. As the man's cock repeatedly kissed your quivering womb, full authority and brutally, you bet that your capacity of thinking straight was far gone for now.

“A-ah, Simon…inside, plea-se, inside me….” Your eyes shut tightly and nails clutched to the headboard, the heated and stirring sensation within your abdomen left you urging for Simon’s thick load.

“Ye’re gonna be the goddamn death of me” The man exhaled shakily and glued his forehead to yours, sweaty figures attached and your walls clenching his shaft tightly as you both appeared to be nearing your climax.

At last, the hot creamy semen stream was fully stuffed directly into your uterus. Simon growled with satisfaction as he dragged his shaft out and watched his essence leaking from your puffy flower. Collapsing beside you and engulfing your weary body in his chest, the blond rubbed soothing circles over your back while waiting for you both to calm down after the previous mating.

“Si” You called out for him sleepily.

“Yes, dear”

“I’m yers” You stated, “Every inches of me, belongs to ye……I belong to ye”

“And ye’ve own my soul ever since that night on the cruise, little bird” 

You snuggled closer and he tilted your face up by your chin, giving you the most loving kiss you’ve ever experienced in your lifetime.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Stepping gingerly into the galley, Simon walked right behind you, hands refused to let go. You were only wearing a baggy tunic and the blond was half-dressed with his trousers and bare upper body. If Simon hadn't insisted on coming along, you would've been the only one presented here.

"Ye sure we won't meet the others at th---?" Your mumble was cut off, peering inside to see Kyle, Soap, and the Captain were enjoying the biscuits around the marble island. No, sneaking.

"S'that truly..." The dark-skinned boy spoke up, not believing his eyes.

Hardly for you to form any sentence, Johnny had raced over and picked you up with a thrilled smile, making you squeal happily. Price also chuckled warmly and embraced you over the shoulders as welcoming you back. Kyle also managed to function again and rushed to greet you.

Everything was enjoyable until Simon hauled you in and caged you between his bulky arms. He glared at the other gentlemen, drawing their attention to the hem of your shirt, which covered just above your mid-thighs. They cleared their throats and turned away, flushing as you simply chuckled and patted the arms holding you.

It's great to be back home.

Taglist: @shadowlali , @ghostlythots (aggressively crushing you guys to my breasts)

[demonslayedher]

Things that went through my mind while watching this episode:

--I think this was the episode that converted a lot of people who were on the fence about Uzui, that scene with Hinatsuru is just so tender that people cannot help but feel for him. The way they animate his fingers moving as Hinatsuru talks because their resting on her chin is such a nice detail. And then we get him pumped back up by the good news that he's found one of his wives alive, and we get that skid and change in direction the roof. So good!! So cool!!

--On that note, I'm just going to jump to the end of the episode because this episode was a very flashy Uzui sandwich. I think that given that we see Makio & Suma more often interacting with each other and Hinatsuru steals the spotlight for drama gives people the impression that she's the favorite or something like that, which makes me a bit sad because I read him as loving and cherishing all of them in different but egalitarian ways. All three are his most important treasures, and unfortunately we see Makio & Suma's immature sides come out most around him, and he seems to baby them in a way different from how he treats Hinatsuru like more of an equal (even though we see in this opening scene that she still speaks like someone subservient to him--that ninja training runs deep). Makio, though, I like that we get her flashback, as it brings out a very different, contemplative, sometimes anxious side of her character which keeps her from just being the hot-blooded one or something like tat. It's not a side she can show to just anyone, but someone as mature as Hinatsuru can draw it out. Suma, though? Let her be a simple bimbo. I love her. She's my favorite. She's adorable and I never get tired of seeing her crying as she tears a kunai through the obi.

--Right! That end of the episode! Uzui's grand entrance and twirling the swords around just to show off (he and Shinobu may relate to each other more than they think), and the perfect placement of a catchphrase. Fine!! Yes!!! I like the catchphrase now!!! I hated it more than anything at the Pillar Meeting, but yes, YES, GIVE ME UZUI TENGEN-SAMA!!!!

--Back to Tanjiro!! I forgot how long this one-on-one fight with Daki took and accidentally queued up my Nezuko reblogs too early. Nezuko is still just hanging out in her box as Tanjiro turns off the Water Breath and turns on the Hinokami Kagura and flashbacks enough to the last four months to show us that he's been working at using it better--and that he's realized his limits to Water Breath. In general, I find these flashbacks to totally unbeforeseen content in the mist of battle distracted and generally not good writing advice for how it cuts into the flow of a scene, but I have also totally come to accept this as a signature piece of KnY's storytelling style. And we aren't even done yet with Tanjiro's flashbacks for this solo battle against Daki! With all these reflections, though, it's really nice to get that foreshadowing for more Haganezuka content, especially Daki's accusation that Haganezuka isn't much of a swordsmith (and he faces criticism too), and Tanjiro's insistence that it's him abusing the sword. He has always fully believed that everything that happened to his swords is his own fault for using them roughly. (And gosh, that context and comparison against someone who uses Water Breath damn near perfectly makes it all the more startleing how Akaza will later very easily break Giyuu's sword in two.) Speaking of swords, BOYS WITH SWORDS!!! BOYS PLAYING WITH SWORDS!!! Zenitsu handling his sword in a context other than the brief moments he's using Thunderclap and Flash, placing it on the ground the way you're supposed to, so unlike Inosuke who doesn't care for proper sword use whatsoever. Thank you, Ufotable!! Thank you for this filler!!

--Speaking of foreshadowing, if Tanjiro's already been maintaining fever over days at a time this whole time, this gives us lots of juicy stuff to analyze about his mark. Perhaps can interpret the damage done to the human body (and the reason all those Sengoku demon hunters died by the age of 25) as being due to the sudden increase in temperature and heart rate, but with Hinokami Kagura techniques, Tanjiro's been able to find a more sustainable way of doing it so his body is more prepared to draw on that power. I wonder, then, did he subconsciously start to do this during the Final Selection, and that's why the scar changed? Also, I believe that Tanjuro's general weakness is do to long-term sustained damage of performing Hinokami Kagura imperfectly, in a way that put stress on his body before he mastered the proper Breathing technique. Which is all to say, it makes me ponder that Tanjiro may have more years than he's assumed to, but he probably will decline in a similar way as his father.

--BUT HEY ALSO, there's imperfect knowledge and hearsay passed down from the Sengoku era about how, like, "swordsmen with black swords can't advance (because they got kicked out)" so maybe that "dead by 25" thing was a matter of looking at patterns and also counting all the guys who happened to get killed in battle? And sure, maybe enough of them dropped dead to lead to conclusions??? I'm looking for whatever hope we can for Giyuu and Sanemi, let me dig with a tiny spoon as I like.

--Anyway! We also get this beautiful, "moyase… moyase… kokoro o moyase!!!" line from Tanjiro. Yes, please.

--And all this reflection from Tanjiro about how he won't allow anyone else to go through the pain that he and other members of the Demon Slayer Corps have with losing people to the violence of demons. That's great, Tanjiro, but you're about to witness a huge failure to do so.

--Ok… so… Inosuke's scene going Homer Simpson through that tunnel is… not one of my favorites. I appreciate that he and the obi found each other mutually gross. Go ahead, keep calling her the Worm Woman, Inosuke. You're the worm, though.

--THAT MOMENT INOSUKE KICKS HIS SWORDS TO HAVE THEM BOOMERANG BACK INTO HIS HANDS, IT'S SO FLASHY, I CANNOT

--This scene down in the food cellar reminds me of the Chinese idiom, "The Eight Immortals Cross The Sea," meaning everyone shows up their individual talents and strengths. Here we've got Inosuke doing it, Makio & Suma doing it, Zenitsu doing it, and then The God of Festivities himself. So much flamboyant fun! That Zenitsu's upside-down twirl, my gosh, he's totally writing that into the Legend of Zenitsu.

--I love it when Inosuke realizes he's in over his head in battle, though. Recognizing he's in a tight spot because he can't fight the obi while also protecting the humans, and that if this isn't the actual body, then there will be no end to fighting there. It makes it so gratifying when Makio & Suma step in to help.

--Okay, but also to sandwich this post… Uzui is totally back in his proper flamboyant mode after being so happy to see Makio & Suma are alive and kicking--especially kicking butt. Relief seems to be a big part of it, but his wives truly are a source of strength and joy for him. Having reunited with all three of them, everything is once again right in his world and it's time to do the butt-kicking in his own flashy way!!

[phoenixthemenace]

Coming Home

Angstpril 2024

Day 1 Homesick

Three days. You've been sleeping for three days and the faces around you grow more grim the longer you do. The medical staff grow weary, I think, of telling everyone no change, no change, no change.

No change. 

Except for some reason I can't figure out, it feels like everything has changed. My stomach has been in freefall ever since you shoved me clear and bore the brunt of the falling beam alone. 

But it's more than that. 

It's waves of hollowness that's settled into my bones and joint causing a dull constant ache. It's a strange sense of melancholy, of yearning for long ago summers and holidays and echoing laughter. 

It's not grief. It can't be grief. You're not gone. You're just…sleeping. There's still hope. As long as you draw breath and your heart beats there is still hope. 

It hits me at two o'clock in the afternoon on the fourth day. I'm lugging our equipment from the squad up three flights of stairs to a cardiac victim. I'm rounding the corner of that third flight when out of nowhere I'm winded, doubled over with the shock.

Homesick.

I'm homesick. For you.

Somewhere in the whirlwind of training and getting the program up and running you became my home.

My temporary partner was at my side in an instant, stopping the flow of revelation. It didn't  take much fancy talking to get out of Bellingham calling another squad and carting me off to Rampart. At least it wasn't Brice. Thank heavens for The Animal.

It wasn't until lights out that I had the uninterrupted chance to think, to wonder what this homesick feeling means. I started with the day we met and go over everything I can remember up until you were hurt. When the wake up tones sounded the next morning, I was still empty, except for one consuming thought.

To be by your side as soon as possible.

*****

I'm here. After a call out just before shift change and interminable delays, I'm here. And after endless fussing by Brackett, Early and Dixie, we're finally alone. I stare at you, disappointed that the ache that wears your name doesn't ease just by being near you. It's worse, in many ways.

I glance at the door, double checking that we are alone before taking your hand. I lean in close. My voice, which was meant to be warm and encouraging, comes out in a whimper.

“Please wake up. I want to come home.”

[animehouse-moe]

Skip And Loafer Episode 1: Sparkling Fresh

So, this is one of those series that I've been meaning to read for ages, and the anime just snuck up on me, leaving me with no actual knowledge of how things are supposed to go. That said, I'm thoroughly impressed with this first episode, and have lots to dive into.

I think the first thing that stands out is the color design, which (those that follow kViN on Twitter probably already know) is a strong penchant of the director's. They very much lean into pastels and, for lack of a better term softer and flatter colors. By no means is it a DIY!! style palette though, it's got much more saturation to it, but just not near as much contrast or highlights. And what I find most interesting about that is that the color designer, Yuuko Kobari, is arguably most known for those aggressive and strong palettes. They did the color design for series like Great Pretender and Redline, so you wouldn't really think that they'd be so at home with such a passive color palette.

But, they nailed it in just about the same way that Kotomi Deai did the direction of this episode. It's largely a quintessential high school slice of life, but just the right mix of creativity and expectation subversion.

Take, for example, the scene of the students getting dressed. We don't know who they are at that point in time, but such care is placed in how they go about things to help associated them with someone down the road. How they do their tie up, or fretting over having their skirt adjusted just the right way, or fluttering about excitedly in your room before your first day of school. It helps express so many different things without relying on the archetype or association of a character to do so. Plus, it just looks straight up beautiful, P.A is pulling a Cloverworks (and even a MAPPA?) with the clothing sakuga.

So how about something more oriented towards story? I'm certain I've droned on long enough in one go about the technical side. So, like I mentioned with the direction, Skip and Loafer as a story also thrives on that creativity and expectation subversion. Setting up for stereotypical pieces and skits, but either finding ways to reinvent them, or dancing past them. And in that, they create something that remains way more "in the moment".

Running barefoot to school to make it to your entrance ceremony just in time or a sudden change of pace to get home early to go to school tomorrow, these "in the moment" pieces give it a much more organic feeling. You're not left with characters stewing it over in a monologue or taking 3 episodes to make their impact. They think, and then they act, plain and simple.

Pairing that with the characters, who are by far the driving force, the flow of the episode is outstanding. Mitsumi might have snapped at Shima on the train earlier, but it's all washed away in the events of the day, neither thinks anything of it and instead reflect on how wonderful their first day was.

They chatter back in forth, get happy when seeing one another, and overall exemplify what they're going for as characters. Of course, that doesn't mean they're boxed in as their archetypes by any means. Shima is spacy and in with the popular crowd, but he has no issues with bein considerate or acting for his own sake. And Mitsumi may be a country bumpkin at heart, but her ability and will allows her to walk comfortably among her metropolitan peers as she recites her speech from memory or is the first to reach out to her classmates.

It produces something that feels incredibly organic without giving up on the parts that everyone guiltily enjoys so much from these youthful stories. The rose colored glasses are allowed to remain, but they are incredibly faint in comparison to some other pairs out there. There's awkwardness, oddity, and all manner of weird, but none of it gets in the way of allowing it to all be incredibly endearing. Not to repeat myself or talk in circles, but this sort of "wonderful reality" is only possible because of the characters, they all have something up with them, something that might not be considered a "perfect" trait. Something that allows them to be normal, so that outside of performances and perception, they can exist on a deeper level that allows things to stay just close enough to the ground.

Would I say it's the perfect high school slice of life anime? I mean, we're only one episode in so I'd never go that far, but I would say it's setting out to conquer a somewhat similar goal to Akebi's Sailor Uniform (though . That is, it wants to provide something beautiful and warm that shows the process of someone, who might be socially anxious or awkward, getting to enjoy their new station in life to the fullest. Getting to make friends and take part in all the things they dreamed of and make plenty of memories along the way.

[phenioxflame]

Monkie Kid- Animal Fury Season 1 Chapter 3 The Last of me

Mischief walks up to the blue crystal clock. She spins the the big hand with her magic and the little hand lands of three. A blue flame is lit. mischief walks away into the darkness; the light from the blue clock making her look like a silhouette.

A bead of sweat falls down Mischief head. Her hair on the ground and her back up august the wall. Mischief had been doing a headstand for the last thirty minutes. In her mind, doing this action once a week was a good way to keep her blood flowing and strength high.

Sun walked outside and saw Mischief up august the wall.

“Are you gonna stand there all day”, Sun asks, holding a peach in his hand.

“You should try it”, Mischief said under the pressure. She uses her feet to push off the rock and picks herself up. “It helps with strength endurance and it help you think.”

“Hard pass”, Sun says, biting the peach. “You know I’m not good with my arms.” Mischief smirks and says, “That’s not what I heard from Ne Zha~” Sun stopped walking and almost chocked on the chunk of peach in his mouth. He looked over at Mischief and said in embarrassment, “Could you not bring Him up?”

“Why? What’s the problem”, Mischief teased. “Oh right, you still like him.” Mischief laughs and then says, “After a millennia and you still haven't told him?” Mischief continues to laugh while Sun burns a bright red and shouts, “Can you shut up?!” Sun starts to hit Mischief head and she still laughs.

“Okay, Okay, I’ll stop”, Mischief says. Mischief stops laughing but Sun crosses his arms in annoyance. “Go train Mk. I’ll see you in a bit.” Sun walks out to the training dojo. Mischief smiles but then holds her head in pain with both of her hands. She keeps her eyes shut and feels herself being surrounded by darkness. Even when her eyes where shut, she could see a being covered in a moon themed cloak.

“No…! Why are you here?!” The being looks back; her eyes glowing a light blue. She turns and starts to walk over to Mischief. Mischief raises her hand and cast a spell, but the being covered in the moon cloak faces Mischief.

I am you, as you are me. We are two become one.

Mischief opens her eyes once the pain subsides and sees that the world around her is normal. She looks around to see if anybody else is there. No one. Mischief looks at her hands and sees then shaking with fear.

“No…. not this night…! Please, not this night….!” Mischief walked back into the house and looked around for a quill and scroll.

Mischief walks back outside to see Mk and Sun training. She sits under a shady area near the entrance to the waterfall. Mk jumps back and lands on the mountains wall. She pushes himself off and charges at Sun from above. Sun smirks and jumps directly up while Mk crashed to the ground.

“Missed me again”, Sun said. He picks up Mk with his tail and asks, “Now how did I win?”

“Misdirection”, Mk guesses.

“Correct”, Sun says.

“That seams like a shady lesson”, Mischief yells.

“Too soon sis.” Mk chuckles a bit.

“I’m just saying the truth”, Mischief says. She walks over and whispers, “And I bet Ne Zha would say the same thing if he was here.” Sun gets an annoyed look on his face and says, “Whatever. And plus, I was always better at fighting than you.”

“Oh really?”

“Wait a second”, Mk interrupted, “You two have fought before?”

“Yeah. But it was for training purposes”, Sun says.

“Now that you mention it, we haven't trained in a while”, Mischief says. “What do you say, but brother?” Sun smirks and says, “Your on.”

Mischief and Sun get into their fighting positions on each side of the training ground. Mk sits on the stairs in anticipation.

“Not using your weapon sis?”

“I don’t need it”, Mischief said with a smirk on her face. Sun chuckles under his breath and says, “Your done if I land this.” Sun chares to Mischief at full speed. Mischief closes her eyes and smirks. She moves out of the way and pushes her brother to the wall. Sun blinks a few times in confusion and looks back to sees Mischief untouched.

“I’m waiting.” Sun runs over to Mischief and tried to hit her multiple times but each time, Mischief blocks his attacks over and over. “Wow, brother. Your getting rusty.”

“I’ll show you rusty”, Sun exclaims. He jumps back and starts to attack with his legs.

“Not really effective!” Mischief takes Sun’s leg and pins him down with her foot. “Moon: 1. Sun: 0. I win again.”

“Mischief, let me up”, Sun says. Mischief moved her foot off of Sun’s back and says, “I thought you fought celestial beings bigger than me. You sure your not getting rusty?”

“He’s not”, Mk says. “He beat Demon Bull King, Spider Queen, and More! He’s strong enough to fight the Jade Emperor!” Mischief could hear her thoughts snap in half. She chuckles to herself in annoyance and says under her breath, “Yeah…. Sure…” Mischief then holds her head in pain.

“Mischief, are you okay”, Sun asks. He holds her shoulders.

“I’m fine”, Mischief says. “It’s just a headache. And I don’t think I’ll be able to train Mk tonight.”

“It’s okay”, Mk says. “Plus, I promised Mei I would help her fix her bike”

“Thank you, Mk.”

The full moon shines from above the mountain; its rays passing the peek of the mountain. A being covered in a night themed cloak looks down on the city below. She turns back and jumps backward. She closes her eyes and summoned a portal under her. The portal was covered in shadows and it’s magic was a dark blue. The being fell thought the portal and landed on a roof with grace and elegance. She looks back and sees the lights on in each building from each block ahead.

“Now… where are you?”

Mk walks down the street of the city. He was walking home from Mei’s bike shop and he was hoping to get some well needed rest.

“This is the last time I stay out this late”, Mk thinks to himself. He looks up and sees a being silhouetted bu the light of the moon. “Who is that?” Mk squints his eyes and sees the being crying up at the moon. “Are they crying?” Before Mk could call to the person, they jumped to the next roof and vanish into the night. Mk runs to the end of the block but doesn’t see the being. 

“That person….. Why where they crying?”

“I’m sorry, say that again?”

“I saw a person last night”, Mk explains. “It looked like they where crying.” Mischief stopped in her tracks and hides behind the house. She looks to her right and back down to the floor.

“H-How, the, Hell, did he see me”, Mischief thought with worry, panicking in her mind. Her racing thoughts coming to a halt. Mischief touched her broach and thought, “He was with Mei that night. He must have been walking home when he saw me.” Mischief lied the back of her head on the house wall and says, “Damn you, Moon Maiden…!” Mischief sighs and thinks, “There’s no way I can control her at this rate.” Mischief walks back to the front and sees Mk and Sun walking to the top of the mountain.

“Where are you two going?”

“We’re going to train at the top of the mountain”, Sun says. “Wanna come?”

“Sorry, not this time”, Mischief says. “I still have a bit of a headache.”

“Oh… does that mean no training tonight either”, Mk asks.

“I’m sorry, Mk”, Mischief says.

“It’s alright. Take care of yourself. We can train when you feel better.” Mischief smiles. She then remembered how her mentor from years past was so understanding. She saw a lot of them in Mk. “Well see you later.” Mk and Sun walked up the path to the top of the mountain. Mischief looks off to the side is sadness. She hated lying to Mk and her brother, but she had to protect them at all cost. She could risk to lose them like she lost…… her….

Mischief sits on a rock near the edge of the cliff and looks up at the sky. It had almost been a month since she had been away from the celestial realm: her home. She wondered if the cheetah twins had been playing in the celestial forest around this time. She touches her broach and says, “I miss you, mother…..” Pink magic flew around Mischief and a scroll appeared. Mischief catches the scroll and looks at the wax seal. “This is Ne Zha’s crest.” Mischief opens the scroll and a necklace rolls into her lap. She looks at the necklace and then read the scroll as follows:

Mischief,

It’s good to hear from you again. I heard from your mother that you moved to earth. I hope Sun hasn’t been giving you too much of a headache. I did some research on what you told me about and it lead me to this necklace. And I also found out that the reason your alter ego is coming out on her own is because she hasn’t been bound. One of your ancestors had the same problem and they had a solution. The necklace I set you is called the moon of Apithaea. It has the power to control your alter ego’s rage. It might help you. I hope you get a handle on your powers.

Could you tell sun I said hi? -Ne Zha

Mischief chuckles and says, “Looks like Ne Zha hasn’t changed one bit. Still the same helpful prince I know.” She smirks. “And his interest in Sun hasn’t left at all.” Mischief looks at the necklace and then placed it around her neck. “Thank you, Lotus.”

Mk and Sun fight along the mountain Plato. However, Mk couldn’t couldn’t really concentrate. He was worried about Mischief, and he was thinking about the person he saw the other night. Mk was soo distracted that he didn’t realize that he had left an opening for Sun to hit him. Sun stops his attack midway.

“You got distracted.” Mk lowers his staff and shudders, “S-Sorry.”

“Are you okay? You seam distracted”, Sun points out.

“I’m worried about Mischief”, Mk says. Sun looked at Mk and the to the side of him, thinking of how to help Mk. she smiles and says, “Kid, follow me. I wanna show you something.”

“What is it?” Sun taps on the ground and a hatch opens. “Now way! How long had this been here?”

“A long time”, Sun says. He jumps and and says, “Come on!” Mk jumps down the hole and lands in a cavern like cave.

“Whoa…. Had this always been down here”, Mk asks.

“Yup”, Sun says. Mk looks ahead and sees a crystal floating above a pedestal; it’s light casting along the floor. Mk walks up to the crystal and asks, “What is this?”

“This is the crystal of the sun”, Sun explains. “This crystal has protected this mountain for a very long time. It was made over three millennia ago.”

“It’s amazing.” Mk takes a closer look at and then gets a vision.

Mischief looks back at someone; her face angry and upset.

She says something but her words are distorted and scrambled.

“She was your mentor!”

Mk blinks a few times and moves his hand away from the crystal. Sun notice Mk’s discomfort and asks, “Are you okay?”

“Huh? Oh, I’m fine”, Mk reassures Sun.

“If you say so.” Sun says.

“Hey, Monkie King? Can I ask you something?”

Mk and Sun walk along the roof of a building.

“Are you sure the person you saw the other night is gonna be here”, sun asked.

“I’m sure of it”, Mk says. The two look around. Mk looks to the north and sees the same person from the other night. “Hey!” Sun looks over to see Mk running over to the hooded person.

“Mk, wait!”

“Um. Excuse me?” The hooded figure looks back; her eyes covered in shadows. “I noticed you the other night and I wanted to meet you.” The hooded figure looks at Mk for a second.

“MK…..?”

“You know who I am?” Sun takes a closer look at the hooded woman and gains a surprised look on his face.

“Mischief?” The being blinks a few times and then says, “I’m sorry. I don’t know anyone by that name.” She tries to walk away, but Sun holds her by the solder which makes Mischief’s necklace break off. The necklace falls to the ground and Mischief’s head hands low.

“Mischief? Are you okay”, Sun asks. Mischief looks back with her glowing eyes piercing Sun’s soul from within. Sun could feel a chill go up his spine. “Um, Mischief?” Mischief rushes back and attacks Sun. “Sis! Stop! What are you doing?!”

“Anyone who get’s in my way will be destroyed”, She yells. Sun whips around and holds his sister down with all the strength he has within him.

“Mk, get the necklace”, he shouts. Mk looks over and sees the necklace. He runs over and picks it up. Mischief looks over in panic and rage.

“No!” She breaks free from her brothers hold and rushes over to Mk and holds him by his collar. Sun tries to rush over to Mischief, but she puts of a barrier. She looks up at Mk and says, “I will not be locked up like a prisoner!”

“What? I don’t get it. Who are you”, Mk asks, struggling to break free. Mischief chuckles to herself, looks up at Mk and says, “So she didn’t tell you? Your her apprentice. Surely you can tell the difference.”

“What?”

“You don’t know? I am–!” Before she could finish her sentence, A ghostly rendition of Mischief, the real Mischief, Holds back her own body. Mk falls to the ground and looks up to see the scene taking place before him.

“Mischief?”

“Mk, I’m sorry”, Mischief exclaims. “I got you and my brother rapped up in this!” Sun runs over and helps up Mk.

“Mischief, who is this”, Mk asks.

“Moon Maiden”, Mischief answers, struggling to hold her back. “She’s my alter ego. I can’t control her without the necklace! Get it!” Sun and Mk run over to the necklace. “You have gone out of control for the last time! You going back where you belong!” Moon maiden holds Mischief by her neck and says, You really think you can control me?! I am half of you that lingers in your shadow! The dark side of light! You can’t escape me, Mischief Wukong!” Mischief puts her hand on Moon Maiden’s arm and says, “No…”

“What?”

“Your right. You are part of me. But you are nothing but an alter ego! I have been through hell and back! I have lost my way over and over, but I never gave up! I have kept you back for over two damn millennia, and I’m not stopping now”, Mischief shouts, felling herself gaining power. Mischief breaks free and holds Moon Maiden with her magic. “NOW!” Mk and Sun put the necklace on Moon Maiden. Mischief lies up and forces herself back into her body. Mischief looks in the darkness and faces her alter ego. “I know you are part of me, and it’s time to make peace with the past”, Mischief says. She puts out her hand to her alter ego. “And I want you to face it with me. If you allow me to.” Moon Maiden looks down and says, “Then I guess we really are one in the same.” She takes Mischief hand.

“We are two become one. The shadow of the sun.”

Mischief gains breath and she holds herself up.

“M, are you okay”, Sun asks.

“I’m alright”, Mischief says.

“Alter ego, Huh? That’s a new one”, Sun says.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about her before”, Mischief says. “I though I could control her on my own, but I can’t even do that right.”

“Mischief, you can talk to us”, Mk says. “We’re here for you.” Mischief looks at both Mk and Sun and says, “You know, I think me coming down here was a blessing in disguise. I’m glad you two are here with me.” The trio smiles.

Just so all you guys know, I ship Sun x Ne Zha. I expect a war in the comments below.

[ali-annals]

clover blooms in the fields/spring breaks loose, time is near

Pairing: Alfred Pennyworth x Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Rating: G

TW: implied/discussed character death(s), this is an old work and thus not my best :/

WC: 0.5k

A/N: I've seen people calling this ship Alfrinette, but I prefer my moniker 'NetteWorth'. This is my attempt to sway others into using it as well :p For rare pair advocate @velveteenshadow Merry Christmas, Carmine! <3

She knew being a True Guardian made her different. 

How different, she did not realize at first.

She defeated Hawkmoth, saved Paris, publicly retired. She met a true holder and trained her court precisely.

She fell in love, but knew she could not have him yet, for one day she realized that she hadn’t visibly aged at all, her eyes glowed when she accessed her powers, and she was radiating light. Growing things flourished in her presence and unlucky, destroyed things were reversed.

Her true love got a job away from her Court, raising a child. That was okay–her civilian self existed no more, and she had all the time in the world to wait. She would watch from afar.

He grieved his employers’ deaths, then attempted to raise their son to the best of his ability. He watched him grow into a good man, driven for justice. He supervised his nightly jaunts and was not truly surprised when he was made a pseudo-grandfather. He helped raise four good young men and three wonderful young women, watching protectively as they joined his son on their night jobs. He took care of them in any way he could, remembering how his love had done that for her dearest ones.

He grieved for his grandson and granddaughter and rejoiced when they came back home. And finally, one day…one day he woke up to see his love, just like he remembered. He blinked and walked toward her. 

“Marinette?”

He hadn’t said her name in decades, yet she gave him the same beautiful smile. They were surrounded by a lush, vibrant oasis, crystalline streams flowing and friendly animals playing about their feet. Sunshine dappled in through leaves and the entire area exuded peace and creation. 

His reflection in the pool was the one he’d had when he first met her. Colourful birds strutted behind him in fan formation. She took his hand in hers and smiled again. 

“My love, we are together at last. How have you been, Alfred? I’ve been keeping an eye on you since you left, but tell me everything, just the same.”

He smiled at her. “I thought I could feel your presence around me often…particularly when it was especially tough. You were by me when Master Jason died, were you not?”

“I was. I know how special he was to you, so I took him when the warehouse exploded. He stayed with me for a while, staying in peace. He told me about you. I could tell how much he and your other dear ones loved you.”

She paused at the waterfall, holding his hands in hers. “I had to return him, however. I am pleased he has seemed to find peace after experiencing its counterpart.”

“I am pleased with how well he–and all of them–have turned out,” he admitted. “This garden looks familiar. I knew my thumb wasn’t that green.”

She laughed happily. “I may have helped your pet garden projects along a bit.” “I took up gardening to feel closer to you, you know,” he admitted. “I missed you terribly.”

“I missed you, too.” She squeezed his hand. “It took us long enough to reunite; let us postpone our melancholy.”

He squeezed back, turning in a new direction. “A marvelous decision. Let us explore among the green while we catch up.”

“Lets.”