#I originally put this before White Tower Forest

[lordprettyflackotara]

decode || ticci toby

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+ tw: face fucking, bear death?, reader is extremely oblivious/naive

You couldn’t stop thinking about him.

It had been ten days. Ten long agonizing days since you had seen him.

You had been wondering in the forest. Aimlessly of course, searching for some connection with nature you could never quite obtain. Civilization was a couple of miles away, sticks crunching beneath your boots. You had heard what sounded like footsteps behind you. Normally you weren’t a paranoid person, but the consistent sound made you constantly glance over your shoulder. This distraction led you to what seemed to be the end, a grizzly bear rising on two legs to glare down at you. Unknowingly you had stumbled upon it feasting, blood covering its snout and a deer carcass behind it. The corpse was long forgotten, its beady eyes centered on you.

All safety measures you had been taught went out of the window. Every bit of flight or fight completely vacant in your mind as you stared up in fear. The bear could practically smell the terror dripping off of you. You began to walk backwards, doubting your ability to outrun a bear. It was then you tripped, an overgrown tree root causing you to land on your ass. You gasped as the bear towered over you, a low growl sending shivers down your spine. You were sure that was the end, your heart pounding in your chest. That was before an axe went flying into the bears neck, the blood splattering across your face.

Your savior, an odd lanky man with goggles and face mask ran over to the bear, yanking the thrown axe out of its neck. You were surprised at how fast the animal fell over, its breath ragged and shallow. You blinked, the brunette man turning to you, his skin a grayish white you couldn’t quite make sense of. From the color of his skin you’d assume he was deathly ill, yet he seemed more in shape than you. His appearance was frightening and unsettling. He should’ve scared you, especially after just slaughtering a full grown grizzly bear. Yet his presence put you at ease. He stepped over the fallen animal, standing over you. He extended his hand, his palms covered in soiled bandages. Hesitantly you accepted it, allowing him to pull you to your feet. You tried to see his eyes, the reflective bright orange goggles staring down at you. He was far taller than you, your head forced to tilt upwards to look at him. “Thank you,” You say softly. The forest seemed to fall silent, the only sound audible the bear slowly bleeding out.

“Go home.”

His voice was jagged and rough, causing your eyebrows to raise. You wiped yourself off, the pine needles that had attached themselves to your jeans falling to the forest floor. “Can I at least know your name?” You asked. The brunette seemed hesitant, before slinging his axe over his shoulder.

“Toby.”

After that he glanced over his shoulder, as if he heard something you couldn’t. “Go home kid,” He huffed, jumping over the bears corpse and running in the opposite direction. You listened to his request, turning around and heading straight back the way you came.

Ten days. It had been ten days since Toby had saved you, your mysterious savior haunting your dreams. You had dreams of him saving you repeatedly. Those dreams were short lived, followed by nightmares that caused you to wake up screaming. In some he would attack you with the axe, in others he would feed you to the bear. You feared and craved him all at the same time. This lead to you making irrational decisions. You called out of work regularly, spending all of your time in the forest. You felt like you were going insane. After you had washed the blood off of your face, you had no evidence he ever truly existed. Were you going crazy? You couldn’t be. Your determination to prove your sanity led to you back in the forest once more.

You were searching for him. Searching for evidence he ever existed. Originally you had searched for the bears corpse, only to find it gone. You swore you could’ve recalled the exact spot, even finding the exact overgrown root of the tree that caused you to trip. Yet there was no corpse. No sign of anything at all. You found yourself in the same spot again, searching the pine needles that covered the forest floor. There had to be something. A bear that size surely couldn’t evaporate into thin air over ten days. You’d still be able to find its skeleton or dried blood. The circle of life was fast, but not fast enough to make a creature that large disappear. You kneeled down to the ground, pushing a pile of the pine needles aside. You frowned in disappointment when you found nothing but dirt. It was then a chill ran down your spine, the eerie feeling of being watched causing your body to tense. Hesitantly you stood up, looking around.

“Hello?”

Your voice seemed to echo through out the endless trees, the wind causing leafs to fall from the highest branches. It was only then Toby revealed himself, dressed in the same dirt covered attire he wore when you last saw him. “W-why do you keep c-coming back here?” Toby questioned. His tone was harsh, causing you to flinch. You felt overjoyed at the sight of him, his presence alone proving to you he was real. But his tone was chilling, his words dripping with a deeper meaning then you realized. “I keep having dreams about you. I don’t understand it, but you’ve left a mark on me somehow,” You admitted. Your words hardly meant sense to you, yet they seemed to register for Toby. He rounded the tree he was standing behind, approaching you. “Y-you should’ve just forgotten a-about me,” He said coldly. You were stunned, noting he now had two axes, both tucked onto holsters. “How could I? It’s not everyday a guy slaughters a bear for you,” You argued. Toby seemed frustrated, his shoulders tensing.

“I’m not your everyday j-jo. I c-can’t wine and d-dine you. I’m not like every o-o-other pussy you’ve ever let fuck you,” He spat. You glared at him. Your dreams meant something, you knew they did. They had to. “My dreams mean something don’t they? That’s why you’re trying to scare me off!” You said accusingly. Toby approached you, towering over you. His pace was aggressive, causing you to step backwards against a large tree. You felt the bark scrape at your jacket, swallowing at Toby caged you against the wood. “You d-don’t know what y-you’re getting into k-kid,” Toby snarled. You shook your head. “You won’t hurt me. I know you won’t. I don’t care. There’s something drawing me to you. I can’t ignore it,” You confessed. You bit your lower lip, causing Toby to tilt his head to the side. You could tell he was thinking, his mind racing as he stared down at you.

“How s-strange. I can’t tell if your i-i-infatuation is caused by boss n-not,” He mused. He lifted his hand, gently brushing the side of your face. His hands were dirty, yet his finger tips grazed your skin as if you were made of glass. You could feel heat rushing to your cheeks, Toby suddenly leaning away. “I-I’ll come back for you,” He decided. He turned away, causing you to follow behind him. You grabbed his arm, Toby stopping dead in his tracks. “Where will we meet? Here?” You asked. Toby looked over his shoulder at you. You wished you could see his facial expression, his words seemingly cold and calculated. “No. Never c-come back h-h-here. I’ll find you,” He ordered. He shrugged your grip off of him, beginning to stalk away. “Oh and while you’re at it kid, i-it’s in your best interest to f-find a way to repay me,” Toby said flatly, before disappearing once again.

Your simple conversation played on repeat in your head. Looping round and round. Who was his boss? How could his ‘boss’ cause the dreams? The nightmares? The infatuation? You stared up blankly at the ceiling at night, your inability to sleep resulting in your job threatening to fire you from calling out so much. Everything seemed to be crumbling around you and you didn’t understand why. It was a night like the rest of them, your eyes blankly staring up at the ceiling. You had managed to count every spec, your eyes becoming crossed. You had stared for so long you swore you were beginning to see shapes and patterns. Maybe you were hallucinating. Maybe you were going insane. Could surviving a grizzly bear attack drive you mad? Or maybe you didn’t survive at all. Maybe you were dead and this was some weird purgatory. Maybe Toby didn’t exist at all and your mind made him up to avoid processing the extreme trauma. Maybe-

Your thoughts were disrupted by a knock on your window, the sound causing you to jump. Scrambling to throw off the covers you jumped out of bed, rubbing your eyes before yanking your curtains open. Toby gave you a simple wave, his axe slung over his shoulder. You opened the window, watching him climb inside. “I have a front door you know,” You said. You watched him shut the window, yanking the curtains shut. “D-draws too m-much attention. B-besides, this won’t take long,” Toby said. He dropped his axe down on the floor, shoving his goggles on top of his head. His chocolate eyes met yours, staring down at you. “I need you t-to know you don’t want this, I-I need you to be afraid of me,” He growled. You didn’t understand, slowly taking a step backwards. “Why?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Toby followed you slowly, like a predator stalking its prey. “I-i’m not the good guy. All of these b-b-bullshit fantasies you’ve cooked up-p are wrong,” He spat. You felt your face turn red, your eyes widening. How did he know-

“I’m n-not your savior. In e-every other scenario, i’m the bear,” He growled. There was something about his voice, his eyes, the way he stood over you. You hated how attracted to him you were in this moment. “I don’t believe you. You won’t hurt me,” You whispered. In a swift motion his fingers were wrapped around your throat, your back colliding with the nearest wall. The air was knocked out of your lungs, your hands flying to his wrist. He glared down at you, his eyebrows furrowed.

Toby didn’t have it in himself to kill you. He was in deep enough shit with The Operator already, just by saving you. Proxies were designed to be ghost. They operated entirely by invisibility. They were never there. They never left any trances of their presence or work. Toby had a small solo mission, one that didn’t require Masky or Hoodie monitoring him. His mistake was traveling through the forest on foot, just trying to make it back to the mansion as swiftly as possible. He had noticed you way before the grizzly bear. You were quite pretty. Plump lips, soft eyes, gorgeous skin. Toby couldn’t help but allow himself a rare pleasure just for a brief moment. He couldn’t recall the last time he had been around a girl that wasn’t a designated target. In all fairness, Toby hadn’t seen the grizzly either. He was too focused on you and your beauty, his survival skills temporarily subsided. When you ran into the bear he didn’t have time to think, only to act. He felt an odd urge to protect you. Whether or not The Operator would forgive him for acting on this urge was a different story.

Toby was permitted to see you one final time, to finish the job. Masky and Hoodie had removed the bear corpse and any signs of Toby’s presence. Proxies weren’t allowed to leave evidence or witnesses. The Operator would’ve been mildly satisfied with allowing you to believe you were going insane. The supernatural being stayed lurking in your thoughts, sprinkling fear through out your persistent dreams. He turned them into night terrors. Toby felt guilty, knowing that your sanity would eventually turn into mush. He monitored you closely, watching you return to the forest. He feared The Operator’s influence was only encouraging you to continue your investigation. Toby knew he had to put a stop to it. For your future would become far more tarnished if you continued to anger The Operator. So he took it upon himself to attempt to fix the situation. What he hadn’t accounted for was your faith. You had raw uncensored faith in him. Toby couldn’t quite understand why. He needed to scare you away. Your interest in him needed to fade away from your memory.

Yet it didn’t, your eyes widened as you stared up at him in awe. Your lips were parted, your heart pounding as he squeezed your neck. He shoved his knee in between your legs, a small gasp escaping your lips. He blinked, confused at the erotic sound. “I-is this how you w-wanted to repay me?” Toby asked. The idea made his head spin. The idea that something as pure and innocent as you would want him. Your face was turning a darker shade of red, your tongue tied. He loosened his grip on your throat, watching as you gulped large amounts of oxygen. “P-please,” You sputtered, gulping. Toby’s pupils blew with lust, his hand falling from your throat. All of this time he wanted to scare you, yet you were willing to let him fuck you? “You’re not scared of me?” Toby asked hesitantly, You nodded, refusing to break eye contact. “Good k-keep that in mind,” He ordered. He shoved his face mask aside, quickly pressing his lips against yours. He ignored the burning embarrassment that radiated off of him as he kissed you. His eyes were screwed shut, while yours were wide open.

He knew you were staring at the gash that sat on his cheek. The sight alone was scarring, nevertheless unforgettable. You could see his teeth, the skin around the wound healed and scared over. You wanted to ask questions, but his eager hands grabbing your forearms distracted you. The man before you looked deathly ill and had somehow survived losing a major part of his face. His kisses were hot and heavy, desperate to regain your focus on him and only him. Not his imperfections he kept hidden from the outside world. He couldn’t remember the last time he had kissed anyone, the mint from your tongue dancing across his tastebuds. As he inhaled through his nose deeply he recognized how good you smelled. When’s the last time he had ever smelled anything besides dirt and blood? Toby pulled away, his cheeks a light tint of pink as he stared down at you. You looked so cute and flustered. The man before you was enchanting, a supernatural creature you knew you couldn’t understand. All of that mystery only made you want him more. You sank to your knees slowly, keeping eye contact with the man before you.

Toby wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. Doing this, allowing this with you was wrong.

It didn’t matter how much Toby wanted this to happen. It was wrong. The Operator would skin him alive if he knew the devious acts he was committing. He was supposed to be killing you, not watch you unzip his pants with those stupid big eyes of yours. But Toby couldn’t help but feel selfish. He had never felt so possessive before, so desperate to keep something all to himself. But with you, he absolutely did. He did everything for everyone else. For The Operator. For Masky and Hoodie. He hardly ever did anything for himself. As a proxy you’re meant to be a vessel, a working part in a moving machine. You’re apart of a unit, not an individual with wants or desires. Yet without thinking twice he broke away from that mold, by saving you from the bear. The brunette decided that he deserved one thing and that one thing was you.

You shoved his boxers and pants to the floor, his hard cock presenting itself in front of you. The sight of salivating, your lips wrapping around his tip. Toby’s hand found its way to your hair, tangling itself in your roots. “F-fuck just like that,” He groaned, subtly pulling you towards him. You whimpered as you began to bob your head up and down his shaft, the man in front of you borderline shaking. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this good. Meanwhile you were a mess, your thighs attempting to rub together to create some friction while you sucked his cock. You felt your nipples harden under your shirt, your eyes struggling to stay open. His large hand on the back of your head guided you to go faster, his tip scraping the back of your throat. “My f-fucking fuck!” Toby groaned. You were so perfect. So pretty and usable. And better yet? You were all his. His hips began to snap faster into your mouth, his cock now face fucking you. You gagged on his shaft, his girth far larger than you had anticipated for.

You gripped at his thighs, saliva trailing down the sides of your mouth as he abused your throat. “Such a good fleshlight,” Toby moaned. You felt tears begin to flood your waterline, your jaw forced to go slack. Toby’s thrust were relentless, the brunette obsessed with chasing his high. “A-awe you look so adorable drooling on my c-cock,” Toby cooed mockingly, relishing in the sight of the fresh tears dripping down your cheeks. He could feel himself getting closer to the edge, his fingers yanking at the roots of your hair. You moaned around his shaft, the vibrations enough to send him over the edge. He thrust inside of your throat one final time, his seed spilling down your throat. Satisfied, he watched as you struggled to swallow his load. You gagged as he pulled out of your mouth, watching you gulp down oxygen as you wiped the saliva from the sides of your mouth. Toby knelt down in front of you, cupping your cheek with his large hand. He wiped away one of your tears with his thumb, leaning in to kiss you. Just as his lips were about to graze yours, the overwhelming sound of static flooded his head.

He cursed as he leaned away, his hands gripping his head. “What is it? What’s wrong?” You asked. Toby shook his head. “Boss is calling, gotta go,” He said dryly. He began to redress himself, rising to his feet. You awkwardly joined him, wetness dampening your panties between your thighs. “What about me?” You asked softly. Toby hadn’t considered your needs, his eyes widening as he turned back to look at you. Your face was flushed, your hair a mess. Your lips were red and plump from his abuse, your thighs rubbing together as you stood in front of him. Toby unsurely tucked some stray hairs behind your ear, pulling his mask over his nose. “Dont wait up for me, but i’ll be back,” He said. He knew he was playing a dangerous game, tangoing with the devil that was beckoning him. He felt a brief moment of sympathy, noting the sadness in your eyes. He shoved his goggles over his eyes, throwing himself into the night. You watched him go, leaving you to decode everything that just happened.

[nekoannie-chan]

Not a common storm

Not a common storm

Title: Not a common

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Ship: Steve Rogers X Agent of HYDRA!Reader.

Word count: 1075 words.

Rating: Teen.

Summary: You and Steve are trapped in a storm, what would happen?

Major Tags: Fluff, angst, implicit smut.

Additional tags: This is my entry to @witchywithwhiskey's Slasher Summer writing Challenge with the prompts:

“Location: Cabin in the Woods.”

“Trope: Enemies to lovers.”

“Quote: Things get messy when you make a deal with the devil.”

Links: Wattpad, Ao3, Spanish version.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate my work myself) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. Please let me know if you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

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My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @Smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @Harrysthiccthighss @Marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club  @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @Here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989 @somegirlfromasgard @rogersbarber

You shivered as you adjusted the scarf around your neck, but it wasn't just the cold that made you shiver. You knew he was nearby, lurking like a predator in the dark.

Steve Rogers.

The rustle of a branch puts you on alert. Quickly, you spun your weapon at the ready, scanning the dense foliage around you. You couldn't afford to let your guard down, not when you were so close to your target.

“Are you going to shoot anything that moves? “Steve's voice echoed from the shadows.

“If necessary,” you answered firmly. I won't let you get away with it.

“We're not as different as you think.

“Make no mistake, Rogers. You and I will never be on the same side.

Finally, you saw him emerge from the trees, his silhouette towering in the snow. You couldn't face him in those conditions, not without risking your life and, worse, losing the battle before it really began.

“It looks like the storm is going to get worse,” he said, his blue eyes fixed on yours.

his blue eyes fixed on yours

“. There's a cabin not far from here. We need shelter.

“Do you think I would trust you? “you spat, without dropping your weapon.

“It's about survival,” he replied, taking a step closer. If you stay here, you'll freeze to death.

You knew it was impossible to get out of the forest before the storm intensified. Reluctantly, you lowered your gun, but not quite. Steve nodded and, without another word, started walking in the direction of the cabin.

The cabin was small and old, looking as if it had been abandoned for years. Steve closed the door behind you and quickly began to light a fireplace.

“It's not much, but it will keep the heat in,” he muttered, concentrating on his task.

You leaned against one of the walls, watching him silently. There was something almost hypnotic about the way he moved, it irritated you, but it also intrigued you.

“What do you think you're going to gain from this? “you finally asked, breaking the silence.

“It's not about winning,” he answered, seriously, looking up.

You let out a bitter laugh.

“Always so noble, aren't you? But I'll tell you something, Rogers: things get messy when you make a deal with the devil.

“Don't lecture me on morality,” he said quietly. We both know the world isn't black and white. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't try to do better.

“Stop trying to redeem me,” you muttered, looking away. I'm not a lost cause for you to save.

“I'm not trying to save you,” Steve replied, taking your chin gently, forcing you to look him in the eye. I'm just trying to understand you.

The closeness between the two of you became suffocating. You could feel the heat of his body, his breath mingling with yours.

“Don't try to cross that line, Rogers,” you whispered.

“What if I already have?” he replied, not moving.

Without warning, he lowered his head, his lips brushing yours in a contact so light you almost didn't feel it. For a moment you thought about pulling away, but you didn't. Instead, you found yourself moving closer, deepening the kiss with a desperation you didn't know you had. His arms wrapped around you tightly, pulling you to him, and for a moment, everything else ceased to matter.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathless, looking at each other as if you couldn't believe what had just happened.

“This... “You started, but the words got stuck in your throat.

“I know,” Steve said hoarsely. But I can't pretend it didn't happen.

You turned away from him, confused and frightened by your own feelings.

“This is a mistake,” you said, shaking your head. You and I.... We can't...

“ I'm not your enemy, and you're not mine. We're just two people trapped in a complicated world, trying to do the best we can.

“It's not that simple,” you muttered, feeling the sudden urge to escape. None of it is.

“You're right. It's not simple. But maybe it doesn't have to be.

“I don't know what to do,” you finally confessed, your voice trembling for the first time in a long time.

“Then don't do anything. Just... stay with me tonight.

“Okay,” your voice was barely audible. But just tonight.

Steve nodded, stepped back a little and took off his jacket, then invited you to sit next to him on the floor in front of the fire.

“Why don't you tell me how you got here? “Steve asked as he stoked the fire.

“It's not an easy story, but I guess none of them are. My family was... complicated. My father was involved in things I never fully understood as a child. But what I did understand was that he wasn't a good person. And by the time I realized that it was too late. I had followed in his footsteps; I had done things I couldn't undo.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, trying to gather your thoughts.

“We've all done things we wish we hadn't done. You are more than your mistakes, more than your past.

“Why do you care? “you asked.

“Because I see in you what I see in me because I know what it's like to feel trapped by the past.

“And what about you? “You asked, deflecting the conversation. What made you who you are?

“I didn't have an easy childhood either,” he said. I grew up in Brooklyn, my mother worked hard to support us. I was a sickly, weak kid, and I spent a lot of time being the target of bullies. And then came the war.

“So, they made you the symbol of a nation? “you asked.

“Something like that. But I can't make mistakes, I can't show weakness. And that... sometimes, it's exhausting.

Steve leaned slightly against the wall, eyes closed, without thinking, you moved a little closer to him, letting the warmth of his body mingle with yours. Sensing your closeness, Steve opened his eyes and looked at you.

“I don't know where this will lead,” you confessed.

“Then maybe we can start over,” he suggested.

You took his hand, and they kissed again, continuing until all their clothes were off.

Hours later, when the storm finally ended, you both left the cabin, you would manage to make sure that no one would find out what was between you.

[gutz3rfryer]

TEAM RWBY IDEAS

some ideas i have for my rewritten version of RWBY MAIDENS Maidens can only control environments and the weather. Also they can change their surroundings, from a high tech hallway to a red maple forest (like an illusion). (so no sword making or whatever just purely environmental) - team rwby becoming the Maidens a. Ruby becomes the Spring maiden (can control flora and wind) b. Weiss becomes the Winter maiden (can create snow storms and ice powers) c. Blake becomes the Fall maiden (tornados and clouds/rain) d. Yang becomes the Summer maiden (heatwaves and thunderstorms) Maidens can used their combined powers to make combos, Fall and Winter making it hail or Fall and Summer making a dessert storm. YANG Technically she shouldve graduated at this point, however she chooses not to, after finding out that Oz invited Ruby (15) to train at Beacon Academy, she managed to convince Oz to let her redo her senior year at the academy to support Ruby. JAUNE the Jaune we know will be put in the bully team from the 1st vol, my version would be more of an androgynous-femme presenting guy BLAKE & RUBY they can make their own little book club :) BLAKE & WEISS I think Blake would stand up for Weiss (and the other way around), especially if Jacques would come to visit Beacon, after finding out that Weiss went to Beacon instead of Atlas Academy. Before Jacques would be able to hit Weiss, Blake would step in and put him in hsi place. BEACON, HAVEN, SHADE & ATLAS ACADEMY DRESS CODE Most strict in dress (1 being most strict to 4 least strict about it/only cares about results) 1. Atlas (has to wear assigned uniform, miss a tie or want to wear pants instead of a skirt? get expelled scrub (also the most discriminatory school)) 2. Shade 3. Haven 4. Beacon (''male student wears a skirt? ok and?'') Beacon Academy ''Dress Code'' Honestly they dont care if you bribe a fashion student or get a tailor to make a longer skirt or flared pants, as long that it has the Beacon Academy Pattern™️ and ''wearing'' the tie, anything goes

ADAM (vs YANG & BLAKE) Making him more obsessive and weird by wearing Blake's tail (which he cut of before she escaped) as a belt. Also making him more Bull than original, because to this day i still dont see what makes him a Faunus. Like the black colored horns are cute but those can be easily mistaken for colored hair. Fall of Beacon (Adam vs Yang & Blake Round 1) Same story but instead of Yang immediately being defeated after getting her arm cut off, she powers through and uses her firey semblance the stop the bleeding in her arm, while Blake keeps up the good fight. After the bleeding stops Yang steps back into the ring to give Adam a burn scar. After losing too much blood Yang caves in while tries to keep her on her feet. Adam also takes Yangs severed arm Comm Tower (Adam vs Yang & Blake Round 2) Adam teases Yang by throwing her severed arm at her, but shrugs it off and tells him he can keep it. QROW & RAVEN Instead of turning into normal looking Ravens/Crows, they turn into a Nevermore look alike. Originally a power given by Oz, now turned curse by Salem. Both Qrow and Raven now constantly have to fight for control with their Grimm halves. Qrow has partially given up, hence the drinking, so his hands look like bird claws and his body is covered in feathers. Raven keeps her distance to avoid hurting anyone. Unbeknownst to them Salem is using their eyes to spy on Oz. SALEM/White Fang im not sure of this idea but instead of the White Fang (which will be renamed to something else) being a equal rights group, they're followers of Salem, the False Goddess, who gives promises that by serving her, they can save their world/make their world better. And that the Grimm exist to ''get rid of the bad people/sinners'' However i think there is a sort of White Fang group but only in Atlas where the most hate crimes, slavery and discrimination happens. As SDC and other companies in Atlas use Faunus for entertainment (for example Bull fighting for Adam) or for slavery. Yes that would imply that Blake was once a follower of Salem's, but turned around after the train incident. TEAM STRQ this might be the worst idea but hear me out. Team STRQ was a polyamorous quad. (in this version Raven and Qrow are >NOT< related) After Summer's death (at assuming Salem's hand), there was a lot of trust issues after, considering neither Qrow nor Raven told Tai what actually happened, and they slowly drifted apart but they all stayed in touch or checked up on the kids and Tai, Qrow would visit more often, while Raven stayed away for their (R&Y) safety. Raven and Qrow keep butting heads cuz they blame eachother for Summer's death/not saving her, but deep down they still care for eachother. Both Ruby and Yang are their kids (its Remnant they can like make kids in a tube or something). Yang has Qrow's alcohol problems (they sometimes drink together) Ruby has or had Raven's selflessness well thats all the ideas i have, nothing solid, just seeing what sticks to the wall. Admittedly the STRQ one might be a bit out there, considering Qrow and Raven are well known as siblings, and yes its weird as fuck idea to have them being/or were together as a couple. But if you remove the context of them being siblings, and see them having arguments, they argue as if they're a divorced couple. Also Qrow is more of a dad than Tai, protecting the gang when they're going on a trip, when Ruby is 15-16 yrs old (in the actual show). And generally being there for the gang. Even before Vol 4 Tai didnt even visit once, but was able to send Zwei. Qrow stayed the whole time, hanging out with Ruby and Yang but i dont remember in vol 1-3 Ruby or Yang ever calling Tai, y'know their dad? But again these are all ideas, nothing solid, just me rambling about RWBY stuff, uh uhm.... are these good ideas? most likely not feedback and criticism is appreciated :) my team rwby redesign v

[incorrect-mtg]

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Emotional - Reign of Terror

“I don’t know what takes them; they die around me without time to scream.” —Scout Ekemet, final journal

Worldbuilding - The entire Love Song of Night and Day* *which I will put under a line break because it's super long AND I want to repost content from a Wizards article which is no longer available

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The full poem, taken from the article of the same name originally posted in 2003 on the wizards website (here) with footnotes explaining which cards quote it.:

Love Song of Night and Day by Jenny Scott

He (Night) / She (Day)

Wrap yourself in your best bright clothes, your red and purple scarves of silk. Run with me to the festival, where we will dance until sunrise. The dwarves will beat their funny drums of zebra skins and hollowed trees, while stiltwalkers perform, and the musician blows his bamboo flute.

And late in the night, the poets and storytellers entertain, delight us with their dancing words, as we listen, clapping by the fire. Enchant me with your tale-telling. Tell about Tree, Grass, River, and Wind. Tell why Truth must fight with Falsehood, and why Truth will always win.1

I will tell my father's stories: how the giant mantis fooled Death by holding still as a felled tree; how the elephants trampled the leopard cub, and its father, though he knew, killed nine goats instead;2 how pirates gambled with a djinn and lost the thing more dear than gold.3

Tonight we'll eat a farewell feast. Cold corn porridge is not enough. Let's peel papayas, pineapples, and mangoes, drink coconut milk, and bake bananas.4 We'll dine on crocodiles, wild birds, and turtles, perhaps a hippopotamus--if only you can catch it first.

I'll build a palace made of stone. Two hippo-headed guards will serve, and tigers carry in your meals. I'll capture flying zebras for your steeds, and fill the stable with every kind of unicorn.5 Butterflies and salamanders will decorate your garden.

I'll strand long strings of beads for you, blue, the color only kings may wear. I'll carve a soapstone lioness, a wooden box to lock it in, girded with sapphire amulets, ostrich feathers, ivory. These things will protect you while I'm gone, remind you of my love for you.6

Your voice resounds like a songbird's, every word is a sweet, soft song. When you run you're graceful and swift, sleek as a powerful panther.7 Mysterious chameleon, you're a thousand women at once, sharp and strong as a lioness, yet gentle as a striped gazelle.

On this our last day together, let us walk across the grasslands. Hold my hand and let's walk slowly, seeing everything as children. Let's walk on the Daraja Plains, where leopards hang from trees, dosing, tasseled tails swaying in the shade, near villages of tree-dwelling elves.

Glorious, to walk again across the savannah with my beloved. A lion walks commandingly, a general among his troops, camped the night before a battle. A snake, colorful and coiled, loops around his bough, mischievous, hanging over the village path.

We'll find termites in their nests, hard tall towers above the plains, and point-eared cats, taking their turns, guarding their many entrances. We'll find the basket-nests of birds hanging from the acacia tree. Rhinoceroses and dragons for once will let us walk in peace.

When lightning tears the sky's dark cloak and heaven's bird beats the water on the muddy plains with its big wings, termites and frogs escape their homes toward the lamps in the nearest village. Spiders dry themselves indoors, the spotted lizards that never fall from ceilings suddenly appear.

In the forest, fires light the sky as the black clouds unfold their weight.8. The black-and-white sacred monkey holds her children to her, and waits.9 Love, like lightning hits suddenly. It sparks the heart with blows of light, its fire extending, bends, expands, beats and breaks your hiding places.

* * *

Remember when we were children, herding the sheep together, leading them over the grassy hills with long sticks. Your silly songs made me laugh, and in the evening, you'd enchant me with your stories, lying on your back beside me. Even then my heart was yours.

I remember your sacred rites. You were so funny, so grown up, so stiff and serious, all arms and elbows. You went in a girl, but you returned a warrior. You marched back with the others-- your hair was cut, your eye tattooed with the red triangle of war.10

Tomorrow I must go, my love. I will tattoo my head with braids. My shield will bear a shining sun so you will always be with me. Inlaid with gold, it will shine like glowing embers.11 I will return with lizard skins for your sandals. Paint your eyes black and wait for me.12

I am the sun, you are the moon. Wherever you lead I will go, following across the wide sky, as long as I live and you love. Sun follows Moon until she tires, then carries her until she's strong and runs ahead of him again.13 I'll carry you, too, my beloved.

My love, we are not Sun and Moon. Instead we are like day and night. The old ones say Day is a woman, who works only while it is light. She herds her goats and catches fish, fills her fields with golden corn, shows her children what is just and protects them from the cobra.

Day loves Night, who works in darkness, walking through heaven's milky sky collecting stars with his quick arms, piling them into a basket like a child collecting lizards and piling them into her pot until the pot overflows with lizards, 'til the basket overflows with light.

Night wears a black cloak lined with fire, studded inside with gleaming stars. At dawn and dusk he spies his love. Across the rolling hills of sky, they glimpse each other--so briefly. They throw each other kisses, cry. Their tears spill over Jamuraa. Mixed with blood, they wash everything red.14

But once, with a magician's help, Time was stopped and Day stood still.15 Night spread over Jamuraa, wrapped Day in his dark cloak and held her. In their miraculous embrace, the two became as One. Until pulled from Day's arms, Night sank, commanded by the western horizon that always beckons him to come.

I won't give up hope, my love.

Our love is like the river in the summer season of long rains: For a little while it spilled its banks, flooding the crops in the fields.16 But soon it will evaporate with the dry heat. Like Day from Night, I'll live my life apart from you, just glimpsing you across the sky, because you cannot change, my dear, and nor can I.17

[1] "Enchant me…" - Village Elder, Mirage [2] "I will tell my father's stories… how the elephants…" - Wild Elephant, Mirage [3] "…pirates…" - Kukemssa Pirates, Mirage [4] "Tonight…" - early harvest, Mirage and Sixth Edition [5] "I'll capture…" - Zebra Unicorn, Mirage (note that "flying" was changed to "gentle" on the card.) [6] "These things…" - Remedy, Visions and Sixth Edition [7] "When you run…" - Panther Warriors, Visions [8] "In the forest…" - Flare, Mirage [9] "The black-and-white…" - simoon, Visions [10] "…you returned a warrior… your hair was cut…" - Zhalfirin Knight, Mirage [11] "My shield…" - blinding light, Mirage [12] "I will return…" - Femeref Knight, Mirage [13] "Sun follows…" - Chariot of the Sun, Mirage [14] "Their tears…" - Mortal Wound, Visions [15] "But once…" - Sands of Time, Visions [16] "Our love…" - Summer Bloom, Visions [17] "Like Day from Night…" - Unfulfilled Desires, Mirage

[fuckin-sick-bih]

Things We Do For Love

Fandom: Original Fiction Summary: After covering for his younger brother Silas' mistake, Hale briefly meets with him at the edge of the woods and then intends to spend the night alone at the Treehouse. Except an unexpected visitor won't let him wallow in peace. CW: Implied abuse prior to the story's opening, none talked about or present within. No descriptions of mess, just mentions of congestion, stuffy talk, coughing, and of course... snz. Cold Fic! + whump Word Count: 2710 words MINORS DNI Author Note: So... I have no idea if y'all like some random plot with your snz but... This is the era of Hale's life long before he meets Jessie or is run out of the Alaska packs etc. Silas is 18, which makes Hale 23, soon to be 24 in this specific snippet of time. Usually, I write Hale and Jessie in their 30's, but I started writing plot that turned into Sort Of Not Plot? and just rolled with it. So this has some new characters y'all have not met before and no Jessie! Sorry! And oops, all platonic fluff love.

Copper tainted his mouth as Hale pushed himself harder, feeling his lungs burn with the effort. Cool air raked in and out of him, making him stumble and hack as he finally slowed a little once he hit the trees. All around him, the foliage was bright and practically on fire with vibrant colors of red, orange, yellow, and, of course, the ever-steady green conifers. 

Not that he could see most of the reds and some oranges at the moment. Most of them blended into something of an attractive yellow-green to his wolf eyes. 

He slowed to a steady trot, one of his nails catching a rock that was sent flying into the brush ahead. Lowering his head, Hale began trying to pick out the surrounding scents, though he didn’t have much luck, and thankfully, he didn’t have to fumble long.

“Was he rough?”

From the brush to Hale’s left came a familiar voice and an even more familiar blinding pelt as his brother Silas crept from the underbrush. It hurt his head just looking at the sun reflecting off his brother’s fur.

A quiet huff left him, Hale still panting and out of breath from the run, and shook his head once before shaking the tension from his entire body. Another stab of pain struck hard just behind the eyes from his movements. “He was his usual self, Nanook…” 

Though his voice didn’t come out quite right, too flat and cold. Devoid of the emotion he’d tried to put into it. 

Silas put one paw forward, ears and head lowered while tucking his tail. The pup had already outgrown him at eighteen. His snow-white form towering over Hale’s own silver bulk. His younger brother’s attempts at submission looked ridiculous.

It made something vile and angry bubble in Hale’s veins. He flattened back his ears with a low growl. “Don’t do that.” The elder of the two snapped suddenly, practically baring his teeth at the younger without even thinking.

In an instant, Silas straightened up and sat down as if their father was right there with them, and Hale’s anger only flamed higher as his brother kept his muzzle pointed towards the duft of the forest floor. “Sorry, Natchiq…” 

He took a deep breath and sighed it out slow and steady like Hale was trying to force the anger from his body by sheer willpower. Part of Hale wondered if Silas ever really understood just how much he stepped in for him. Hale moved forward to gently take the tip of Silas’ ear between his front teeth for a gentle, playful tug. Even as his father’s words rattled around in his brain for a few moments, his tone was gentler this time. Something soft and understanding because Hale couldn’t bring himself to be a hypocrite. “Get out of here, Nanook. I’m not covering for you again like that. I won’t say don’t sneak out again, just… Don’t get caught again.” 

The sudden sound of leaves and twigs being swept back and forth broke the sounds of Morgan’s voice in Hale’s mind as Silas’ tail began whipping back and forth a mile a minute. “You’re the best brother on the planet, you know that? Thank you, Hale. Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah, go see your girlfriend. And I don’t wanna see you for at least three days.” Hale grumbled good-naturedly and bumped his shoulder against Silas in an almost playful way as his brother launched himself back in the direction of town. The relief he’d seen wash over his brother’s form yanked horribly at something inside Hale.

The way Silas’ shoulders had visibly sagged, ears perked, and even his breathing had just seemed to come easier. Hale let his ears and tail droop now that he was alone and dragged himself up for the last leg of the walk toward the old treehouse.

Years ago, he and Silas had built the treehouse as somewhere to escape from their father. From the pressure of someday taking over leadership of the pack. Of the town. Of part of Alaska… 

Hale stubbornly pushed through his various aches, the one in his hip giving him the most trouble after hitting the corner of his father’s desk during their shouting match. He reached the ladder and shifted, letting his body adjust to the new proportions and senses momentarily. 

It was only then he really realized just how terrible he felt. 

One hand grabbed hold of the ladder for support as Hale bunched up his jacket sleeve to rub at his nose with a sniff. It felt like he’d been hit by a truck. Exhaustion pulled at his very bones as he looked up at the ways he had to climb. Sniffling and with resignation, he hauled himself up the ladder one rung at a time until he collapsed inside and shut the latch behind him.

A few raspy, dry coughs escaped him, and he winced as they grated against his sore throat. He’d thought it had just been sore from the yelling match and a couple of late nights he’d been staying up drinking with friends. Now, it felt like his head was heavy, full, and congested, while his throat was tickly and irritated. No wonder running here had been a nightmare when usually it wasn’t half bad. Sure, his cardio was shit, but it wasn’t that shit.

A prickling sensation in his sinuses drew his attention, and Hale groaned softly as he knew what was coming, struggling to sit himself up in preparation. His breath caught and teased while his nostrils flared, practically egging that ticklish prickling sensation further while his eyes watered from the irritation. 

“Heh… Guh hih-! Ugh, c’mon,” Hale growled as one of his calloused hands came up to paw roughly at his nose, wincing a little. At least it wasn’t broken, he thought to himself.

Before he could coax the sneeze any further, however, there was a knock just before the hatch in the floor swung open to reveal a silky mop of dark curls that popped in. “What the fuck are you doing?” Came the voice of none other than Mari Beckett. 

Unable to form a coherent sentence or thought, Hale simply flipped her the middle finger before yanking his sweatshirt up over his slowly bruising face as he finally sneezed. “HehhEXT’SHH! IhhT’SHHuue! Oh, fuck me…”

“Maybe when you’re less contagious, Hawthorn. You look like shit.” Mari had seemingly let herself in while Hale was otherwise occupied and, as she usually did in his house, made herself right at home in the treehouse. “I saw your brother when he got into town. Asked for directions to you, and he guessed you’d be here.”

“That runt. I’ll get him for squealing on where our treehouse is…” Hale mumbled, tipping his head back to rest against the insulation on the wall, though there wasn’t any malice in his tone. In fact, he sounded completely unbothered. “Snitches get… s-huh…stitch-esTSHHiew! Kit’SHHiew Ekt’shhhuh! Huh…”

This time, it had been a scramble just to get his hand in front of his face as his head snapped forward with the three wet sneezes. One large hand covered his mouth and nose before pulling back with a little grimace and wiping his palm on his jeans. “Fuck, sorry, Mari. What’d you need from me?”

As Hale was blinking and trying to refocus his gaze on one of his best friends since puphood, he found her just sitting there on her knees, staring at him with some odd look. He frowned and sniffed, bringing the cuff of his jacket sleeve up to swipe at his nose some more. “Seriously, Mari, what-”

One of her hands reached out and rested on his boot-covered ankle. Somewhere safe to initiate touch on days like today, and she knew it. He knew it. Anyone who knew Hale knew it if they didn’t want their shit rocked. 

“Take a break.”

The words surprised him, and Hale swallowed awkwardly, blinking a few times as he tried to think of how to respond before he just… laughed. Chesty and stilted. “Mari, I can’t-” And then his body seemed to drown out his protest with its own. Hale’s ticklish throat would be ignored no longer either as he turned away to cough into his fist. 

“You’re coming back to my place until those bruises start turning a different color, and you stop being a walking plague.” Mari insisted and gave his bootlaces a little tug. “Even if I have to tie you to my bed to get you to stay and rest somewhere.” There was a grin spreading over her face now as she waited for Hale’s coughing to finish.

Clearing his throat before speaking, Hale gave her an exhausted smile back. “Kinky. That a threat or a promise?” After a few deep breaths, he nodded and leaned forward to give her hand a little pat. “Yeah. Fine. Whatever. But we’re ordering…” 

The tickle was creeping back in, disrupting the flow of his words and making his breathing stutter in sudden and sharp. “Hih-ih! Ch-hih!“ It was all Hale could do to yank his sweatshirt collar back up over his face just after he spoke next. ”Chinese food- HiihIXT’SHHiew! Ext’SHHhue! Fuck, sorry.” An uncomfortably thick sniffle escaped Hale, and he groaned, head swimming with the congestion that had been steadily building throughout his terror of a day. 

“Some cold, Hawthorn. You never do anything halfway, huh?” Mari said as she opened the hatch door in the floor to head down first. “We can definitely get Chinese food. I’ll even make you my mom’s special lemon ginger tea. How’s that sound, big guy? Spicy chicken and hot tea?”

A little groan escapes Hale, both from the effort of moving his painfully sore and tired body as well as imagining how damn good that chicken and tea will be. “Sounds fucking amazing.” And he began his descent down the ladder after her, the two heading back to town at a leisurely pace interspersed with pauses for Hale’s sneezing and coughing fits as needed.

The rest of the night was spent over soup, spicy chicken and noodles, tea, and terrible movies. Mari eventually convinced Hale to take cold medicine, but only if she downed a tequila shot with him in solidarity, which she bravely shivered through.

“Please just take the NyQuil,” Mari said in exasperation, setting the bottle on the counter as she faced Hale, who had a box of tissues tucked under his arm like a football.

“I’d rather die.”

“You’re such a drama queen. No wonder you can’t keep a girlfriend.”

Hale rolled his bloodshot eyes and glared at her, “Oh, you’re ode to talk…” The congestion had progressed to the point of distorting his speech, and he was snuffling every few moments when not swiping at it with a crumpled-up tissue. 

Already, Mari was pouring him a serving of the thick syrup and checking her fridge, “Don’t get pissy with me just because you have the Man Flu. Now, what do you want as a chaser?”

The question seemed to jog Hale’s congestion-stuffed brain because his head perked up a little, hesitating before he answered. “If I’b taki’g that shit, you have to take a shot. Also, juice… please?” His please was added a moment after Mari’s piercing glare was shot over her shoulder at him as she remained bent half in her fridge.

“Cranberry juice work?” Mari asks as she pulls out the plastic container to set it on the counter before sauntering over to her liquor cabinet. “Fuck it… whatever it takes.” And soon, there was a shot of tequila in one hand and a lime in the other. 

A little pile of salt was stacked neatly in her palm, Hale noted as he peeked down at her after pouring his glass of juice. “Cheers…” He said with a grumble and picked up the plastic cup to knock back the syrup like a shot as best he could. 

At the same time, from the corner of his eye, he heard and saw Mari do the same with her tequila shot. Licking her salt, downing her alcohol, and hastily sucking on her lime with a shudder. He couldn’t help a chuckle as he sipped at his juice while watching her, trying to ignore the bitter, cloying, and clinging taste of the NyQuil. “Poor thi’g,” He rasped and cleared his throat. 

Mari leaned against the counter and gave another little shiver before straightening up. “Shut it. I’m good. I’m cool. I’m so good. We’re good. Hoo.” She nodded and smirked at him, giving him a little pat on one of his pale cheeks. “We should get you settled on the couch before you’re down for the count. You’re too big for me to move. I’m a strong woman, but not lift a six foot one dumbass strong.”

A soft, amused huff escaped Hale, but it only made the tickle in his nose flare. “Hehh… H-hang on… Hihiih-! Gonna-! Hehhh! Heh!...” The tickle built and built, teasing him as it had him leaning on the kitchen island with his mouth hung open in pre-sneeze desperation. Only for the feeling to trickle off. “Fuck… false al-” 

And just like that, it came rushing back as he sucked in an inhale, and Hale jerked down towards his own chest, one hand flying to try and cover his face. “HEXt’Shiew! Huh… Huh’Gk’tshhhiew! Oh, fuck b’me, what the hell was that?” His second sneeze had come out half-stifled sounding, and Hale’s ears were ringing from it. 

When he opened his eyes finally, it was to the sight of Mari frowning at him. “That didn’t sound good. Do you want more tea? It might help your sinuses?” 

Hale shook his head and snuffled, clearing his throat a little again. “D’no. It’s fide. I just wadda lay dowd add sleep, y’kdow?” He says softly, trying to give her a small smile, but even he knows how tired it is.

“Blow your nose, Hawthorn. Then join me on the couch. I’ll get your nest ready. I’m not your mate, but I won’t let my best friend rot in a treehouse.” Mari said, giving his hip a little pat on the way. “And for the record, I do have a girlfriend.” She added playfully, hinting at their conversation from earlier, which made Hale’s eyes bulge. 

“Sidce whed?!” Hale demanded immediately before having to pause and cough, holding the counter once more. “Is she- bei’g good to you-?” He sputtered out between coughs in his fit. “I wadda beet her!” 

There was an insistence in his voice as he scrubbed at his nose with his sweatshirt sleeve cuff, sniffling a little more. Then he gave his nose a productive blow before he headed into the living room, where Mari had already set up a spot with some blankets and pillows for him on the couch. “You’re an angel, y’know that? And hey-” He caught her wrist a moment.

Hale looked into Mari’s warm, chocolate-brown eyes with his own forested hazel. “I’m happy for you.” He says quietly, nostrils twitching as his cleared sinuses threaten to overwhelm him with ticklish urges once again. “Hih… Sorrehh EKSH’tiew! Sorry, just a sehh hEXkt’Shhiew! HenX’tShiew! Ugh, damn it…” 

He’d turned to face in the complete opposite direction but kept a hold of her wrist. Each sneeze caused him to squeeze her wrist tighter for just a moment.

“Bless you, go lay down before you fall down. Go.” Mari urged and gave him a little shove towards the couch, the smile on her face soft. As Hale settled into the sofa, he wrapped himself into the blankets and dropped his head on a pillow. 

Once as comfortable as he could get, he grunted and nodded toward the other end of the couch. “There’s room for two.” He complained with a smug little smile growing on his face. “Put on another movie, and m’sure I’ll be out in no time.” The statement was even punctuated by a wide yawn that made Hale cough a little at the end of it. 

The night ended with the two of them snoring on opposite ends of the couch, legs tangled beneath a shared blanket, and the television softly muttering as it played the newest Home Rescue episode.

[marta-bee]

Continuing on with Aldarion & Erendis. The next bit was surprisingly feminist, at least viewed a certain way. A long quote and longer musings are below the cut.

Thereafter for a while doubt again assailed Erendis, for Aldarion turned his thoughts again to the works at Rómenna, and busied herself with the building of great sea-walls, and the raising of a tall tower upon Tol Uinen: Calmindon, the Light-tower, was its name. But when these things were done Aldarion returned to Erendis and besought her to be betrothed; yet still she delayed, singing: "I have journeyed with you by ship, lord. Before I give you my answer, will you not journey with me ashore, to the places that I love? You know too little of this land, for one who shall be its King." Therefore they departed together, and came to Emerië, where were rolling downs of grass, and it was the chief place of sheep pasturage in Númenor; and they saw the white houses of the farmers and shepherd, and heard the bleating of the flocks. There Erendis spoke to Aldarion and said: "Here could I be at ease!" "You shall dwell where you will, as wife of the King's Heir," said Aldarion. "And as Queen in many fair houses, such as you desire." "When you are King, I shall be old," said Erendis. "Where will the King's Heir dwell meanwhile?" "With his wife," said Aldarion, "when his labours allow, if she cannot share in them." "I will not share my husband with the Lady Uinen," said Erendis. "That is a twisted saying," said Aldarion. "As well might I say that I would not share my wife with the Lord Orome of Forests, because she loves trees that grow wild." "Indeed you would not," said Erendis; "for you would fell any wood as a gift to Uinen, if you had a mind." "Name any tree that you love and it shall stand till it dies," said Aldarion. "I love all that grow in this Isle," said Erendis. Then they rode a great white in silence; and after that day they parted, and Erendis returned to her father's house.

I'm thinking of a thought I've always wanted to develop from the Sherlock Holmes fandom: that Mary Morstan is a threat to Watson's and Holmes's relationship in modern adaptations like Sherlock, in a way she really isn't in the ACD originals, because of all the progress we've made on gender equality in the 130-odd years.

That's a lot of big words and involves another fandom, so bear with me. In the Doyle stories, John Watson has a fulltime career and he still runs after Holmes solving crime and turning up at 221B Baker Street at odd hours. Even whle he's married. And that works in the Victorian context because men and women occupied such different spheres, John Watson having a close male friend with whom he went off and did the things men did together, and no doubt filled a niche it wasn't thought Mary as a woman could fill. Running off after criminals was a bit less usual than hours spent together at the club, but the time spent together and the emotional intimacies between men, that seems at least passably normal.

Compare that to the modern Sherlock 'verse. Moving in together, getting married, having a kid, this all centers John's life much more strongly around Mary than it would in Victorian times. Because society has evolved in the last century-plus. Because there aren't these great zones where women weren't allowed, and whether you think Holmes and Watson are having sex, their relationship is emotionally intimate in a way modern adult friendship doesn't often make space for. "Just the two of us against the rest of the world" is a much bigger challenge to having a wife and kid at home than it would have been in the Victorian period, at best it's either skirting that line of emotional infidelity or really hollowing out the depth of Sherlock's and John's relationship. Put simply, I want John and Sherlock to be soulmates --platonic or otherwise-- and it's really hard to make space for that without cheating Mary out of what I think a married woman would reasonably want and expect.

I should really leave space for the emotional equivalent of polyamory here. I don't doubt that's possible, and more power to writers and artists that write them that way. But if you're doing that in a modern context, that's still very different than John Watson/Mary Watson and John Watson/Holmes just existing in different spheres so not really coming into conflict.

This is all a bit inelegant and underdeveloped because I'm trying to cram a whole meta into a few paragraphs. But I hope you get my gist.

Why bring this up at all? Because I'm seeing a really similar love triangle brewing between Aldarion, Erendis, and his love of the Sea; and Erendis has no interest in sharing. Husbands have to work away from their wives to provide for them, of course. He's crown prince so he's not hurting for cash, but his duty to the crown and his people have a similar role. And I don't think she wants to stand in the way of that.

But his love of the sea is more like a love affair, a passion and an identity she has no place in. And Erendis is not Victorian!Mary. She doesn't want her husband to go have his adventure and then come home to her once it's all done. "When his labours allow, if she cannot join in them" is not the kind of love she wants to build her life around. The kingship, or his explorations, might be Aldarion's work, but she expects that she will be his soulmate.

Which is really very interesting and more enlightened than I'd expect of a romance set in Arda. I wouldn't call it modern because it's not, but still there's enough to make my feminist-informed heart take note.

[quibbs126]

Thoughts on the legendary cookies?

Okay, this has been in my inbox for a while, I might as well answer this now

I’m just gonna focus on the elemental Ovenbreak Legendaries, since that’s what I was thinking of. I’ll put my thoughts on the others at the end, but it probably won’t be as in depth

Fire Spirit Cookie:

So I got this ask back before Flames of Longing was announced, and I was going to to say that I don’t really care for Fire Spirit, as I know basically nothing about him, but then Flames of Longing came out, and I quite like him there. Yeah he’s a bit of a prideful bastard, but he’s got a heart, and I can’t help but like him.

His Cookie Trial is ass though, I’m so bad at it

Moonlight Cookie:

I also quite like Moonlight Cookie. Granted, I haven’t gotten close to getting through Episodes 15-16, as I’m stuck at the beginning, but from what I have seen from cutscenes and Crunchy Dreams, she seems neat. Hopefully with her (I think) joining the fight against Dark Enchantress Cookie, we’ll be able to see more of her. I’m curious what interactions between her and the Ancients would be like. Also I haven’t finished Odyssey so I don’t know how we got to the Gingerbrave group looking for Moonlight, but I can’t help but imagine Gingerbrave going up to the Ancients and being like “hey guys, I was able to recruit the powerful moon lady! Oh, and her ocean wife!” (I assume that Sea Fairy would probably join if Moonlight was there) while they’re just like “wait how”

But let me tell you, until I got her for myself, I feared her in Arena

Sea Fairy Cookie:

Now, I actually quite like Sea Fairy Cookie, she seems like a nice lady. I just wish I knew more about her. I mean yeah, I know stuff about her, like the Sugarteara stuff and her relationship with Moonlight, but my thing with her is that we don’t know much about her herself, or at least things that don’t relate to Moonlight

I like seamoon, it’s cute, but I feel like it’s one of those ships/relationships where while one of the characters is allowed to have arcs outside of the relationship and about them themselves, but the other is stuck having basically all of their character moments having to do with their relationship, like Jay/Nya from Ninjago and Moxxie/Millie from Helluva Boss. The things about Sea Fairy that we’ve seen, like the Tower of Frozen Waves and the Sacred Pearl, seem to all have to do with her longing for Moonlight Cookie, and it feels like this relationship just defines Sea Fairy. Which sucks because I want to know about Sea Fairy all on her own. She’s the only elemental legendary we’ve met where we don’t know their origin, and sure we know she’s cursed, but we know nothing about that curse. I want to know about her lore, but right now we just don’t have it. But I hope we get it at some point, and Sea Fairy isn’t just relegated to “pining for Moonlight”

Wind Archer Cookie:

I also like Wind Archer well enough, but I also feel like I don’t know much about him. From what I’ve seen (pretty much just he Sherbet story and Truth of the City), I like him, I just haven’t seen enough with him in it. Hopefully that gets rectified in Kingdom, at least assuming he doesn’t show up with Millennial Tree Cookie. Personally I’d like to see him show up in Beast Yeast and become a traveling companion of the Gingerbrave group. That’d be neat to see

Millennial Tree Cookie:

I quite like Millie, he seems very interesting. I feel like I don’t have much to say on him, but I am very curious to find out more about his lore, which I imagine we’ll get. Also I personally like to think that White Lily Cookie comes from his forest, so if that turns out to be true, we’d get some interesting interactions between him and Dark Enchantress. And possibly he could be a reason for White Lily existing outside of Dark Enchantresses, since I mean he is an ancient powerful being

Also I love his trial theme, it’s very relaxing to listen to

Also a random tidbit, but I keep thinking his voice sounds like the voice Charriii5 gave the N’rrgal leader in his EWW Sonic Chronicles video. I don’t know why

I was gonna just talk about the Ovenbreak elementals, but might as well mention Frost Queen too

Frost Queen Cookie:

I like her. I’ve heard people think she’s evil because of how she treats Sherbet’s fate, but like, it’s just a fact of life for her, it’s something she knows is inevitable, why wouldn’t she act like that? Also personally I see the Legendaries as not really being the same as normal Cookies, since they’re like higher beings, so you could see her apathy as having to do with her no longer being a “normal Cookie”, so to speak. And besides, she tells Cotton of a way to possibly save Sherbet, or at least prolong their time together.

But regardless, she seems cool.

Might as well include the other legendary Cookies

Dark Enchantress Cookie is probably my favorite legendary, if only because of her story and character in Kingdom. Her being White Lily really adds interesting depth to her character and I’m very interested to see how they conclude her story

Timekeeper is fine. Personally I don’t think I get the hype. I mean yeah, I know why the hype’s there, but I don’t think I personally feel it. Maybe I’d get it more if I watched their story

Similar feelings towards Black Pearl, where I like her well enough, I just don’t know much about her to really give thoughts, since I haven’t watched her story. Though my feeling towards her are also elevated probably because she’s been an integral part of my team in Kingdom

I like the dragons, though I don’t really know much about Ananas. Did they have a story segment? Because I haven’t seen it. I think in Ovenbreak, Pitaya is my favorite, though in Kingdom I don’t think I like them as much. Maybe it’s because in Ovenbreak they seem more amicable to Cookies, at least from what I’ve seen. But I’d say Longan is second place. I’m curious if they’ll ever add any more dragons (like the North and South Dragons), and if they do, maybe ones with a different theming. Like how the five we have are supposed to be tropical fruits, maybe we could have other dragons that have a different shared base. Though I wouldn’t mind more tropical fruit dragons

Anyways, yeah I think that’s about it

[xxacademy]

Throne of His Own

This fic is inspired & adapted from chapter 42 of A Court Of Mist And Fury, by Sarah J. Maas. Plot is original, but I took heavy influence from the events of that scene. <3

Leon Kennedy x Agent!Reader (she/her)

18+ MDNI !!

Summary: Being sent to a rural French village to go undercover with a band of vampires was strangely typical for your line of work— But, pretending to be lovers with another agent was anything but typical. Adapting yourself from a trained agent to a submissive lover unfolds in an unexpected series of events.

Word count: 10.2k

Content warnings: smut, AFAB anatomy, exhibitionism, penetrative sex, pet names, slightly mean possessive Leon (only when he has to be), alcohol consumption, typical violence and themes associated with resident evil (like mentions/ use of weapons).

a/n: somewhere, deep in the void, this was intended to be about 2k words, just a little one shot... but now here we are, lol. anyways thank you guys for being so patient, and thank u to my besties on here for being so kind and understanding. life is crazy, and truly i cannot keep up as consistently as i’d like to. i will always be here, even if i take some long breaks here & there. i love all u resident evil obsessed freaks, my life wouldn’t be the same without u xx also i finally decided to not be lazy & do the cute colored letters i hope u enjoy hehe

— PART I —

You peered out the window as you were driven through the endless sprawl of the snow-covered French countryside. A blur of powdery white pines occasionally broken up by small villages nestled into the hills.

Behind all those tall trees were the ragged peaks of the hulking French Alps, so expansive they nearly cut the sky in half. The beauty and stillness of winter was in full effect. Every little village had plumes of warming smoke gathering above the chimneys.

The agent driving the car interrupted your silent musing over the scenery. "You'll have to hike in. It's about 5 miles to the village, but we can't risk getting too close."

With one hand still on the wheel, he reached for the center console, pulled out a large envelope, and tossed it in your lap.

"There you'll find the information you need. Your partner, Leon Kennedy, has been undercover, posing as one of them."

Your voice is monotone, almost disinterested. "And who's them?"

"Some parasite-infected blood suckers. Leon has described them as a vampiric blood cult or something."

"And I'm just expected to waltz into all this? A blood cult? Really?"

"He talked about having a lover, a woman he returned home to, and at the time, it was just banter to fit in with them. But the cultists want to meet her. Either they're getting suspicious, or they want to play ball. Regardless, this served as a rather interesting opportunity to give Leon backup. So here you are."

Your knuckle rests below your bottom lip; you watch as the sun begins its descent below the icy mountain peaks. 

So here I am. 

You and one of the few other survivors of Raccoon City. You've met him, sure, but you have yet to work alongside him. But, you'd always known the day would come. 

── ･ ｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

You were driven as far as the meandering forest service road would allow. Ahead of you, where the road was no more, towering evergreens had taken over. Their limbs were heavy with packed snow, creating a dense cover over the forest. Only a sliver of the remaining purple-tinted dusk made it through the trees.

"This is where you're on your own. Here are the coordinates for where you'll meet up. Just stay north until you find an abandoned barn. That's where he'll be."

You nod in understanding, equipping your array of weapons—a rifle on your back, a pistol on your hip, and a machete on the other.

"We'll have you out before the end of the week," the agent said, helping you put your pack on.

"I'll count my blessings," your face was solemn as you faced the trees, attempting to size up what lay ahead.

"Well then, you're set. The best of luck to you." a sympathetic smile formed on the agent's lips as he stepped back into the car.

Without hesitation, you departed into the cold, dark wilderness.

── ･ ｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

Seven miles may not have been a lot for you, but Seven miles of trekking through uncharted backcountry in the dark of winter was. You were chilled to the bone, and the numbness of your limbs limited your mobility ten-fold. 

The thick undergrowth of the forest only got denser as you progressed, and your machete-wielding arm throbbed with every strike.

You stumbled up an embankment. With every step, loose, powdery snow slipped underneath your winter boots. Each sharp breath you took appeared as mist, illuminated by your headlamp.

As you finally reached the crest of the hill, you spotted a dilapidated barn at the base. It was nestled underneath a skeletal weeping willow tree. As you moved closer, you noticed half of its roof had caved in. Just one billow of wind could send the thing toppling.

You made your way down the slope, encroaching on the barn. You pulled out your pistol and dimmed your headlamp just to be safe.

Focusing on sound, you surveyed the area for footsteps, rustling, or speaking.

There was not a peep to be heard. Aside from the occasional whisper of wind, the surrounding forest was eerily quiet.

The crunch of the snow under your boots was frustratingly loud as you circled the barn's perimeter, searching for traps.

To your surprise, you peeked through a frosty window and saw the dull glow of a lantern, and a man sat beside it.

He was bundled head to toe in fur-lined clothing similar to your own. His eyes flicked up, and they met with yours. Without speaking, he signaled you in.

You couldn't recall what he looked like, but you remember a distinctly boyish look despite him being around your age when the incident happened. But the person who stood before you was a lot different.

This man is rugged and muscular. His cheekbones are much more pronounced, and his pale blue eyes are set deep in their sockets. Gentle yet battle-hardened. All that boyishness has dissipated.

"Leon," he said, stretching a gloved hand toward yours. 

You stuttered your name through shivering lips, your hand meeting Leon's in a firm shake.

His tactful eyes scanned you, assumedly noting how cold you were.

"We really should get going. I've been holed up in a cabin only a few miles from here."

"Gladly, I'm freezing my ass off." 

Without any further small talk, Leon leads the way, setting out once again for the dark, unforgiving woods.

── ･ ｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

"Make yourself comfortable; I'll get a fire going," Leon said, opening the door for you before heading back outside for firewood. 

You threw your pack onto the ground beside the fireplace. The room was completely dark, except for the small path illuminated by your headlamp.

You fumbled a matchbook out of your pocket and started to light the myriad of taper candles around the cabin. 

Warm candlelight flooded the room, illuminating the interior of the gothic-style cabin. It was constructed of dark, ashy wood—the walls, the floor, the ceiling, and everything else.

Eclectic, mismatched carpets overlapped each other. And dark red curtains pooled along the ornate windows.

He called it a cabin, but the interior was rather grand.

Your heavy .22 caliber rifle had been digging into your back for hours, so you peeled it off with a relieving sigh. As you set it down on the wooden dining table, it made a hollow metallic clunk. You stripped off your other heavy layers onto the table, like your machete and belt, but kept on your fur-lined outerwear. Inside wasn't that much warmer.

With a heavy boot, Leon kicked open the front door, cradling wood in his forearms. With him, a gust of snow flurries blew into the cabin. He again kicked the door closed behind him and dumped the wood beside the fireplace.

"The snow is picking up again. You got here at the right time," Leon said, striking a match and tossing it into a pile of kindling inside the stone hearth.

You sit on a deep red Victorian-style couch in front of the fireplace. You sighed and kicked your boots up onto the coffee table.

"You call this place a cabin?" You say as your hand brushes the fine velvet upholstery of the couch.

"Well, when you see the rest of this village, you'll see why this place is considered just a cabin."

"These cultists must be the extravagant type then, huh?"

Leon piled wood onto the roaring fire, the crackling glow illumining his features. He stepped back from the heat and faced you, pulling off his heavy jacket. "Yeah, to say the least. They're greedy fuckers with bloodlines full of wealth. These gaudy homes just scratch the surface."

"So, now my real question is—how did you weasel your way in? How are you seriously posing as a cult member?" You stretched your shaky hands towards the fire, desperate for warmth. "You can't be serious that you, an American, just waltzed into a French village and are pretending to play cultist," you said with heavy speculation, your stern eyes meeting his.

Leon's lip ticked, calm eyes unbreaking from yours.

"They have plenty of outlets funneling within the United States, which gave us the perfect opening. We intercepted communications from a faction of theirs based in the States and used them as a bleed for information. Eventually, it was requested that they, we, send over a high-ranking nobility to come to France to one, act as a messenger, and two, be part of their transformation ritual."

"And that's where you came in?"

Leon's face went grave.

"Yeah, I trained to be and act like one of them. I learned every piece of information we know about this narcissistic vampire cult and its deviant religion. I've had to change everything about my life and thinking to be here. It's been months kissing ass in the hope of more information."

The room was becoming increasingly warm, and you started to feel claustrophobic in your winter clothing. You began to shed your layers of outerwear. 

"That sounds awful. I can't believe you've made it out here, alone, for so long..." you paused for a moment but resumed, "but please, tell me that it has been worth it."

The question loomed thick in the air as you struggled with your boots, eventually kicking them off and walking to the fire to warm your cold, damp feet. 

You could really get a good look at Leon here. He wore a tight black shirt that emphasized his muscular build and black cargo pants. His complexation looked soft against the warm firelight, juxtaposing the intensity of his prominent features.

He, too, seemed to be taking in your appearance as you sauntered toward the light. What he was thinking about was absolutely unknown, as he remained stone-faced.

"It has," he said, breaking the silence. "It has been worth it."

Leon's eyes drifted to his hands as if in a trance.

"What we now know about the cultists can completely change the course of this fight. But as I push forward, it's not going to be easy. I don't think this is going to end smoothly. That's why I needed backup." Leon cleared his throat. But there is a catch, too."

His eyes darted up to meet yours. You tensed, straightening your back, an inquisitive eyebrow raised. 

"The king, that fucking king, wants me to bring my lover."

Although you were briefed on this situation prior, nothing could have prepared you for hearing it from him directly. 

You laughed-- partly to ease the tension, but mainly because the mission-altering crux for the honored agent is his girlfriend.

"It's crazy, I know, but it couldn't be a more perfect invitation to bring another agent in." His cheeks flushed with the slightest hue of red.

"Please, tell me how you got into this situation in the first place". You tried to contain your laughter but failed.

Leon breathed an exasperated sigh.

"Well, the Lords, false prophets more like, banter about their romantic conquests. And well, after they all had drowned on about all the unsavory details, they looked at me, awaiting what story I had to tell."

"And what did you tell 'em?"

"I did what I had to do. I made up stories about having a girlfriend at home... And whatever else would keep them from asking too many questions." 

You nodded.

"They also bring their women to the castle and flaunt them like furs. Sometimes, it's literally for their blood. Most of the time, it's just to stroke their own ego by having pretty women hanging off them." Leon added.

Of course, the power-hungry vampire kings saw women as conquests. Ultimately, it shouldn't surprising that it would come to this.

── ･ ｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

It's been a long, long day.

You have all the information you need at this point, and the exhaustion is quickly overtaking you. 

You yawn with outstretched arms, relaxing them to rub your heavy eyelids. Your body is finally warm, and you realize how well the bone-chilling cold kept you awake. 

"I'll show you to your room," Leon said, helping you collect the things you dumped around the room. He led you down a darkened hallway to your bedroom.

"There are some clothes and a few other things you may need. If you need anything else, my room is just across the hall," he stated, setting your things down. 

"Is there anything I need to know about tomorrow?" You added before Leon could step out of the room. 

"You'll have the day to adjust. We'll go over the mission then. Just focus on resting up for now."

His lips came to a subtle smile, "Goodnight."

You smiled back, "Goodnight to you too."

You surveyed the room, starting with the armoire. It was full of clothes that looked like they were from another time: grand dresses with sheer, lacy fabrics of black and red with low sweeping necklines. There was also a long black hooded cape, corsets, and tall-heeled boots. The drawers below housed underwear and pajamas. 

You slipped off your dingy clothes for a long black strappy nightgown from the armoire.

You hid your weapons around the room, your rifle, machete, and extra ammo in the closet, your knives in the vanity, and your pistol tucked under the mattress. 

Like the rest of the decor, the bed was ornate. It was intricately carved out of the same ashwood as the cabin. The white sheets were plush and soft to the touch.

After securing your room, you crawled into bed. Falling almost immediately into sleep. 

── ･ ｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

Blinding white winter's light singed your vision as you woke up in a panic, a persistent cracking noise echoed from outside. It was a splintering sound as if someone was trying to get in.

You stealthily crawled out of bed and cracked open the bedroom curtain to peer outside. Nothing of interest could be seen, only the quiet woods blanketed by fresh snow.

The woods were now illuminated by sunshine, making them appear significantly less intimidating than last night. That didn't make them any less haunting, though.

Pistol in hand, You tiptoed through the house in search of Leon. First, you knocked on his bedroom door, and when he didn't answer, you investigated the rest of the house. 

There were no signs of Leon, only the smell of something cooking and the sound of that grating thudding noise echoing through the house. 

You silently opened the front door and exited barefoot, the coldness of the snow against your skin sending shivers up your spine. The satin fabric of your nightgown offered no protection from the elements.

One step at a time, you sneaked around the side of the house. The thudding got louder with each pace, and your heartbeat raced with adrenaline.

Carefully, You rounded the corner to the source of the noise. Arms straight, gun drawn.

Leon's eyes, bewildered, raked your figure, and he huffed a laugh, "Good morning, super cop. You must be freezing."

He looked down the barrel of the gun before you put it down.

He was just chopping wood.

Clearly, your senses were on high alert. You felt embarrassed that something so trivial and ordinary ticked those mental alarms.

Defensively, you retorted, "Well, I'm not the one chopping wood in a creepy vampire town first thing in the morning! For God's sake, I thought someone was breaking in or attacking!" You huffed, crossing your arms, a once panicked stare turning to one of annoyance.

Leon dropped the axe in the snow, reaching for a large piece of wood. 

"And coming outside, in the dead of winter, wearing only a nightgown would have made a difference?" Leon said with a smirk, but it dropped quickly as he again reached for the axe to chop another piece of wood.

"And a gun! You seemed to have missed that part, and what else was I supposed to do? Spend 10 minutes putting my gear on?" You argued with a pout. Muscles tensed as adrenaline melted away.

You were still waking up and not in the mood to argue. But yes, you definitely could have kicked ass in your pajamas.

"Okay, okay, I promise I'm done pestering you. Breakfast is on the stove. You should go eat." 

Begrudgingly, you walked back inside, mumbling your frustrations to yourself. It's safe to say you're not a fan of rude awakenings.

While lounging on the couch, you ate the breakfast of eggs and bacon Leon had prepared. You flipped through your logbook, filling in everything that happened in the last 24 hours.

Leon opened the front door, shaking off his snow-covered clothing before entering. He'd been out there for hours, and it was evident in the sweat that lingered down the side of his forehead. 

Standing in the foyer, Leon peeled off his brown fur-lined bomber jacket and casually pulled the sweat-drenched black t-shirt over his head.

You watched him from where you sat on the couch, a bit confused as he acted as if no one was around.

You got a glimpse of the toned plane that was his back. He stretched his arms out, unintentionally giving you a better view. He rolled out his sore shoulder blades for a moment, and you discreetly watched from the corner of your eye.

You stifled whatever the fuck that feeling was and resumed your logbook. 

In an attempt to find some grievance, you cleared your throat. It was subtle enough not to seem suspicious but clear enough that Leon definitely heard you. 

But you're sure he was aware of you the entire time.

Leon walked toward the hallway and said, "I have a business to take care of at the castle; when I get back, we'll go over what's expected for the mission tomorrow. You'll find the notebook I've kept about these people on the bookshelf. You should skim it to familiarize yourself."

He walked into the bathroom without waiting for your reply. The only sound was the door shutting behind him.

Leon had left to take care of his end of the mission, and you remained alone in the cabin for the rest of the day. 

You bathed and changed into real clothes, skipping over the elaborate dresses in favor of the spare black jeans and long-sleeve t-shirt you packed. 

You left your bedroom to head to the living room but stopped at Leon's door adjacent to yours. 

You were curious about what his room looked like, and rightfully so. He was rather serious, not letting off much about his personal side. Even while working, other agents, like Jill Valentine, had more outward displays of self-identity. 

You wondered what the man behind the agent's identity was like, But you respectfully kept walking.

Typically, you're not overly curious about your cohorts, But people like Leon and Jill lived through the same tragedy you did. You often felt alone in your pain, But you found a sliver of comfort in knowing that you, in fact, were not.

You flipped through the very detailed notes Leon had taken. He explained the parasite they intended to use for "world domination," the pecking order amongst the rulers, detailed maps of the castle, and whatever else he found out. 

── ･ ｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

"Hey, wake up," Leon said gently, nudging your shoulder. 

You woke up sitting on the floor, arms crossed and body hunched over the coffee table. 

Through blurry vision, you saw Leon beside you, wearing a fancy white dress shirt and a tie loose around his neck. 

"What time is it?" You mumbled, sitting up to stretch out your very numb legs. 

"Late—I got back about an hour ago, I made dinner if you're hungry."

Leon reached out a hand, and you took it. Grunting as he helped you up.

"Yeah, I am," You replied, your stomach grumbling.

You sat at the dining table with Leon. He prepared grilled veggies and chicken for dinner, which was surprisingly good. 

"How'd it go," you asked between bites. 

"Fine, everything is going according to plan. We're all set for tomorrow," Leon replied,

"What exactly are we doing tomorrow?" you raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sure you saw those dresses in your room. You'll have to wear one, but it's easy from there. You'll stay quiet and follow my lead. You'll have to act like my girlfriend. But it will also be a good time to familiarize yourself with the castle and, you know, memorize the layout." 

Leon took a sip of wine and offered you a gentle look, "Are you okay with that?"

You replied, "Of course I am. It's a pretty small price to pay to take these fuckers down." You flashed a cheeky grin before taking a sip of your wine. "We got this."

You continued to talk over dinner, going back and forth and sharing each other's backgrounds. You told Leon about your experience in Raccoon City— what had happened and how you'd escaped it. 

But for you, It was surreal hearing about Leon's involvement in the incident. Hearing about the people he saved, the enemies he took down, and the sacrifices he made were… Comforting. 

Comforting to know someone else could actually relate to you. 

Comforting to know there is hope.

You know there are scars deep below the surface—you know that from experience. But meeting someone who still cares so much about helping others proves that those wounds do, in fact, heal.

You and Leon cleaned up the kitchen before saying goodnight and heading to your rooms for the night.

You lay in your plush bed, unable to sleep. Your mind is whirring with a frenzy of emotions. Your conversation with Leon is still sinking in. The nerves concerning tomorrow's mission stake their claim. 

It's okay. It's okay.

You try to soothe yourself. Suppress whatever unreconciled emotions were brought up.

Just finish the mission.

— PART II —

A beautifully lavish Victorian-style ball gown adorned your body. It has a flowing tiered skirt constructed from deep, blood-red satin. The bodice was corseted tightly to your abdomen, pushing your breasts up so that they are nearly spilling out of the gown's low square neckline. The quarter sleeves fit tightly but poof out at your elbows with frilly lace. The whole ensemble is accented with black bows and delicate lacework.

You watched yourself in the vanity mirror as you carefully pinned your hair up. Enchanted by the unfamiliar person the mirror reflected back.

This wasn't you. But a princess.

A princess who has never killed or witnessed the mass extinction of innocent people. A princess who didn't have to give up her normal life against her will.

Although seeing yourself dressed up like the beautiful person you'll never be was strange. But maybe, battle-scarred government agents could wear pretty dresses, sometimes.

With your hair set in place, you head to the living room, where you are met by Leon in an equally uncharacteristic outfit.

He took in your appearance, a smile decorating his face. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out.

You filled the silence instead. "You look nice." You spoke softly.

He did look nice.

Leon wore a billowy white shirt with ruffles along the neckline. The plunging neckline had a small corset-style detail, and it was tucked into a pair of perfectly fitted black trousers.

Simple, but effectively good-looking. The fit of his clothes came off as rich and a little romantic. Well suited for a band of vampires.

"As do you," Leon said, voice deep and restricted.

You hid your face by looking down at your shoes, concealing the growing flush along your cheeks. "Thank you." You said in almost a whisper.

"Are you ready?" he asked, offering his arm to you.

You nod in affirmation and thread your arm through his.

Leon led you through a little stone path through the woods. At this time, it was only about an hour before dusk.

The combination of winter woods and the near-setting sun created an image of beautiful calm. If you were to let your mind wander, It would feel like you were on a date, taking a stroll through the forest.

"I told you these cultists were sick bastards, right?" Leon said too casually.

You nod, "Yes, you definitely mentioned that."

The dense woods begin to clear, and the path leads to a small village. At the horizon, the pointed spikes of a grand castle make a lethal appearance. You take it all in, honing yourself into a covert weapon. Descending into this "character" of unexpected harm.

"And you understand that how I'll behave tonight is all a part of the act?" Leon asks for your assurance one last time before entering the village.

Your heels land on the cobblestone that had been cleared of snow. The warm glow of the town's candlelight radiates as the sun begins to set.

Making brief eye contact with a villager, you squeeze Leon's arm a little tighter and murmur, "I could say the same to you, my lord." A wicked smile now painted your face.

Leon whispered lowly, "Glad to see you're committed to the bit."

As a pair, you two walked through the town's main pathway, a straight shot to the looming castle ahead. You noted that the townspeople were off. 

Very, very off.

They behaved more like mindless zombies than people; their eyes glowed crimson red. Most of them just walked by idly, with no sense of purpose. Others stood hauntingly still, staring at you so intensely you felt it in your soul.

Even the farm animals that lingered on the streets were off. They walked erratically, and their eyes glowed, too.

This place gave you the creeps. Typical Umbrella.

Reaching the castle at last— It demanded your attention with its many oversized spires and massive arched windows. Light flowed red through the stained glass, adding to its intensity.

The snow-covered graveyard and cross-tipped spires informed you this wasn't just a castle but an unholy cathedral.

You had to walk through the graveyard to reach the entrance. You noted the tombstones engraved with outdated French names and dates as far back as the 1800s. It all added to the ancient terror surrounding the looming cathedral.

Upon arriving, the massive arched door began to creak open, and a man clad in a dark red suit greeted the two of you with a thick French accent. "Good evening, Sir Kennedy. We are so very pleased that you and your-" he paused, a sly smile forming, "madame, could make it."

Leon did not reply to the doorman.

He walked past with his head held high and eyes peering downwards. His look emanated superiority as if he had no interest in conversation with a man so far below him.

Leon grabbed your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours, guiding you up the curved stairs that dominated the foyer.

You passed servants who wore simple, white, floor-length dresses with aprons and bonnets. Each servant stopped in their tracks to bow their head as you, he, walked past.

The action sent chills down your spine.

What was the true extent of power he reached in this so-called monarchy?

You arrived at a grand arched doorway swirled with ornamental gold detailing. Two men opened the doors in unison, letting you through.

Elegant music flooded the huge open ballroom. Orchestral pianos and violins serenaded your ears.

People waltzed, people drank wine, people talked, and the vampires watched.

On the dais, the looming darkness of men sitting on ornate thrones watched the every move of the people below.

Every seat was occupied except for one.

Everything suddenly stopped. The music went silent, and the people parted, bowing their heads down.

Slowly, you two approached the dais, Standing hand in hand at the steps. The man who sat in the centermost seat smiled devilishly. "Glad you could make it, Lord Kennedy." His French accent was thick.

Leon bowed his head. "Of course, your majesty."

"Why would you want to miss a ball as extravagant, as special, as this one, anyways? Lord Kennedy, we wouldn't want to disappoint our guest, wouldn't we?"

The Lord ticked an eyebrow, reaching a pale, lanky hand to you.

Leon's breath seized but quickly relaxed as he let go of your hand, hinting for you to accept.

You gracefully walked the steps, rhythmically breathing in and out to offset the heavy heartbeat that accompanied each step. The air loomed cold and silent as the echoes of your footsteps filled the hall.

The King was pale as fresh snow, with icy blue veins protruding from his skin. His eyes were glowing red, and long black hair cascaded down his shoulders to his chest. He wore an ornate gold, black, and red suit and a crown topped his head. He looked as if he was once very handsome, but now, he is not so good-looking.

You rested your hand on him, avoiding eye contact. His freezing touch sent a shiver through you.

The King lowered his head and placed a prolonged kiss on the back of your hand. His left hand grabbed your upper arm, turning it so your wrist faced upward. He ran his fingers down your arm, resting on your wrist. A devilish grin formed on his thin lips, presumably from the pleasure in whatever he found in you.

His head raised, but his hand remained fixed on your wrist. You made eye contact this time. His gleaming eyes burrowing into yours.

You could feel your hot blood running against his cold touch. Your pulse filled the silence of the too-quiet ballroom. You wanted to run, but not without a fight, and get out of this Umbrella Corporation daymare.

"Ma chérie," he whispered into your skin.

There is no running. No fighting. Today, you must pretend.

Leon stood beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist, his eyes dark, looking down at the still-seated King.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Leon asked rhetorically, a bite in his tone.

The Lord laughed, releasing your hand.

"No need to be so overbearing, Leon. N'aie pas peur. Please sit and join your fellow nobility."

The last empty chair was his. You scanned the other taken thrones. Some of the men were already turned, marked distinctively by glowing, crimson eyes and a lifeless complexion.

Although some, like Leon, had not yet been turned.

From your reading the previous day, you learned that in the eyes of the cult immortality was a privilege, not a right. They believed one must earn that privilege by dedicated service to the organization before even being considered.

Leon took a seat, relaxing on his throne. You stood beside him awkwardly, not entirely knowing what to do. But, with a tap at your side, you figured it out.

You perched on Leon's lap, your billowy dress flowing over his legs and spilling like blood onto the marble floor. He wrapped a hand around your corseted abdomen, and the other rested in your lap.

Your heart raced a little harder.

"You must be in need of a drink." The King asked.

"Some music would be nice, too," Leon said with a scoff loud enough for musicians on the floor to hear.

The music resumed, and again, the bowing people began dancing. Stillness finally replaced by the movement and energy of song and dance.

One of the white dress servants arrived with two glasses full of red wine upon a silver platter. Leon made no effort to grab them, so you took them both, passing one off to him.

Leon pressed his lips up to your ear, "drink up, baby," he whispered.

You almost forgot— even your whispers could be��herd by the immortal's keen hearing. Every thing that was said, even in a murmur, had to be in line.

It was strange to hear him talk like that, but admittedly you weren't bothered. Although the closeness was unexpected, It's been a long time since you were this close to someone. It had been a year? Maybe two? Since you were at all intimate with another person.

It felt good. He radiated warmth, his touch was gentle, and his handsomeness unmatched.

You downed your glass while Leon sipped on his. His scanning eyes watched the crowd, occasionally flickering back to the King but always ending on you.

He admired as your painted lips caressed the edge of the fine crystal wine glass and how your throat bobbed with each drink.

He called for a refill and demanded more, which the servants promptly fulfilled, And they kept it coming. After every glass you two emptied, they refilled.

Amongst themselves, Leon and the vampire Lords talked about courtly business. and as they talked, Leon's large hands ran down your leg, pulling up your skirt, and exposing up to your knee.

They were talking about war, and all rather intense subject matters. But Leon's hand kept working higher up your legs. Petting and caressing every bit of exposed skin. The King couldn't look away, neither could the other lords, or even the people below.

He used you as a spectacle, to assert his dominance, and power over the rest of the court, and it worked. The commoners were afraid of him, and the lords respected him. He mastered the facade of villainous superiority that belittled all in its path. One that possessed his lover entirely and wanted the world to know it.

His lavish touch across your legs, mixed with the headiness of the wine, brought you to a euphoric state. Coaxed by his affection, you can't help but submit.

Your back arched into his abdomen, yearning for more touch. You could not recall any of the words spoken around you, only the ecstasy of his lips meeting your neck. A soft whisper of a kiss was all he gave you, but your breathing hitched, and your body heated.

You were damned. Damned for liking it as much as you did.

He paused for a moment. Only a minute's break in time, and he still left you internally begging like a dog.

"My, my, what a statement you're making, Lord Kennedy. You plan on sharing?" The King taunted, practically drooling at your bare, pawing legs.

You spoke for the first time the entire night, causing every member of the court's head (that wasn't already) to turn.

"No."

You shot an arrow through the King's fragile pride.

The King's lip twitched. "What a defiant whore you managed to fish up."

Leon laughed, grinning wildly, "Oh, well, you should see how well she obeys me." He patted your thigh in approval, placing an absolutely panty-drenching kiss along your neck.

The King rolled his eyes, but lords couldn't hide their amusement as they stifled back laughter.

Leon rested his knuckle under your chin, "Go on, my love, apologize."

The King retorted snappily, "There's no need for that."

Thank God.

You took an extra large drink of wine to ease the tension, falling back into Leon's warm chest.

They continued on as if nothing ever happened, talking about things you knew nothing about.

Leon listened, cool and aloof, but his hands satiated your need. He resumed the game of inching higher up your leg. His warm fingers trace dizzying circles along your inner thigh.

His calloused fingers felt rough and masculine against your velvet soft skin. He squeezed your thigh, accidentally eliciting a lusty whimper from you.

"You like that, don't you, pretty girl?" Leon's breath grazed along your neck, his lips taunting you mere centimeters away from your bare skin.

You pressed your back into the hardness of his body, a needy and desperate attempt for more—more of his lavish touch. You didn't even care who saw.

You turned a cheek, sharing Leon's darkened, sultry gaze. The usual warmth in his pale blue eyes was totally vacant. He observed you like prey, nothing more than a deer in the crosshairs.

The hand that rested on your waist dragged up to your face and cupped your jaw, his thumb petting your lip, transferring your red lipstick to his skin.

His grip on your thigh intensified, digging hard into your skin. Your lips parted with a soft gasp, and your legs opened wider in response to his touch.

Hunter and hunted.

Leon bit his lip as he slid his finger into your mouth. Your lips puckered pretty around his finger, and Leon watched in feral attraction as you teased him with the tip of your tongue. You oozed confidence and sultry submission, letting your doe eyes do the talking.

The lines between the act and reality truly blurred.

The way he touched you felt too real, too right. You craved more than just the teasing.

As if in an answer, Leon's hands migrated lower and lower down your abdomen. Finally, working to where you craved most. But, he couldn't find the proof of how good he made you feel. Your soaking wet underwear would be damning to your case.

In a desperate attempt, you arched your back, attempting to pull yourself away from his wandering touch. In turn, you could feel the unmistakable hardness in his pants pressing against your back.

Oh, he wanted you too. At this stage, you both should just be condemned.

The on-lookers watched from below as you pressed into Leon's length. You ground yourself against him. Your skin glowed with sweat, and strands of hair were falling from your updo and swept around your face.

There were no secrets in the way you felt; you practically radiated sex, intimacy, and everything in between.

One of Leon's hands dragged up your body and grasped your ribcage directly under your breast. The other rested on your collarbones. He pulled your ear to his lips and whispered, "Don't let it go to your head."

You swallowed, heart racing. "What?"

Leon's arrogant grin now pressed against your ear. "That every man in this room is imagining themselves in my place. Don't forget that you belong to me, darling."

"I would never-" You were cut short by Leon's grip tightening around your abdomen.

"Don't patronize me," he demanded, but his white-knuckle grip loosened and transformed into apologetic strokes down your side.

"Yes, my lord." Sweet and submissive.

The King seemed to approve, as marked by an appraising nod he shared with Leon.

A servant walked by, head hung low, and Leon's voice cracked like thunder. "Wine, now." Pure demand in his voice.

You drank the seemingly bottomless glasses of wine Leon ordered. You should have stopped, but you drank on to avoid any unfavorable conversations.

Tonight, you learned that French vampires love to drink.

The night grew late-- You, Leon, and the other Lords were drunker than sailors. Conversations of importance were divulged into off-topic chit-chat and banter. The people below slow-danced to the soft ballads that hummed through the castle.

It was a struggle to stay awake. All the wine, the music, the expectations, the teasing. It tired you out. Your head lay in Leon's chest, soaking up his sent-- Open sky and rugged woods. Your dainty hands gracefully stroked his exposed chest, painting little circles, occasionally your hands reached up to play with his pretty blonde hair. Leon languidly stroked your arm, head resting lazily to the side.

Leon sat up, shifting you with him, and cleared his throat, "My king, It's been a pleasure, but we should head back now."

"Why don't you just say the night? I would hate to see your poor madame walk all the way back to your... Maison, this late."

You and Leon exchanged a look; you weren't exactly sure if he had accounted for this in his plan. Your eyebrows threaded together, a look of annoyance and confusion, but Leon quickly turned away.

"What a hospitable offer, your highness." He responded eloquently. He knew that someone who was actually in his place would never reject an offer like that.

"It's the least I can do for you, Lord Kennedy; after all, you've been so dedicated to our cause." A sly villain-like smirk formed on the King's lips.

Leon politely bowed his head in acknowledgment.

The King snapped his fingers, and without an exchange of words, a servant was at the throne you and Leon shared.

You both stood up and followed her, hand in hand.

You passed by the other Lords still seated along the dais. Their prowling eyes raked your body as you walked by. Leon was right; you were in everyone's minds. Stripped bare and doing unspeakable things to them.

It repulsed you to be thirsted over by depraved vampire lords, but in some sacrilegious facet of your mind, you were flattered by it. You even walked in a way that accentuated your hips, teasing them just a little more.

You were just passing the King's throne when suddenly someone grabbed your arm. It was the King who had implored his icy hand around your arm, pulling you into him. You gasped as he bent you over the armrest of his throne and placed a kiss on your cheek. "Bonne nuit, ma chérie" He whispered in your ear.

He activated your desire to fight back; you wanted to place your hands around the scrawny King's neck and kill him right there. You could without any resistance, too.

But, you suppressed your urge. Sweet and submissive, you told yourself. You already got yourself in enough trouble with your previous stunt, best not to ruin it now.

"Goodnight, your Highness," you muttered back as dainty and feminine as you could manage.

The King released you, and as you took a step back, you were in Leon's chest; his arms were quick to wrap around you, like a knight in shining armor waiting for his princess.

As you left the dais, the people of the ballroom once again stopped dancing, and bowed as you and Leon walked through, escorted by the servant.

She showed you to your room, opened the door, bowed, and left promptly.

The room was entirely white and gold, similar in design to the rest of the castle, but featuring a giant bed in the middle of the room with a canopy of pooling gauzy fabric.

"What are we supposed to do now?" you whispered once the door was closed behind you.

Leon rubbed the temples of his forehead as if he had a headache, "I'm not sure. I didn't expect him to want us to stay the night."

You looked around the room, unsure of what to do now. "Should we escape?"

Leon peaked his head out the window, surveying the area, "That's an option, but risky," he muttered. "It would blow our cover when they inevitably found us gone. The plan was to kill the nobility a few days from now, on the full moon. That's when they're planning on turning one of the human lords immortal."

"Why does it have to be then? Can't it just be now? They're all drunk and lounging around, for God's sake!" You accidentally raised your voice, and Leon shushed you by pressing his finger to your lips.

"When they turn someone immortal, they have to use the parasite... The plan is to steal the parasite during the ceremony and then kill them. We need to bring it back to America so it can be studied.

But, I haven't been able to find where they store them; as far as I'm aware, only the King knows. That's why I've been waiting for the ceremony."

"So... We stay?" you said defeatedly.

"Unfortunately."

You looked around the room, rummaging through the wardrobe and the various drawers throughout. Everything was empty except for the Holy Bible in a desk drawer.

"You can have the bed, I'll take the couch." Leon offered kicking off his boots before sitting on the small white and gold couch.

"That couch is so small, you can have the bed." You tried to negotiate.

"No, no, it's all yours. I've slept on much worse than this." He said, stretching his legs out along the couch. It was too short for him, so his feet dangled off the armrest.

You sighed; there's no point in arguing.

"Well, I can't sleep in this dress. It weighs about 20lbs, and it's too damn hot."

"There was no spare clothes?" Leon asked.

"Nope."

Leon looked around the room, eyebrows stitched together in thought, before he resolved, "You can have my shirt."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, It's no trouble at all, really."

Leon remained where he was on the couch, eyes closed.

You stood on the other side of the room, fumbling with the corseting on your dress, unable to unlace it. "How the hell did I even get this on earlier?" you mumbled to yourself.

Leon's eyes perked open, watching you struggle. He cleared his throat, "Do you need help with that?"

You didn't answer but still struggled.

Leon took it upon himself to help you. He walked over and began unlacing the many rows of tight lacing along the back of your dress.

"Thank you," you said so very quietly.

"I wanted to apologize for earlier, I—"

You cut him off, "Don't—You don't have to apologize. I understand, truly."

Silence loomed over the room, and only the sound of fabric rustling filled the void. You tried to find the right words to say, but you came up empty-handed.

Leon reached the last eyelet, and you held the gown at the bust so it wouldn't fall off. Although you admittedly wouldn't mind if it did.

Your back was entirely exposed to him, only inches away from pressing against his chest. Your mind slipped— what if you took a step back? Let him do what you want him to do. Let him explore your body even more than he did earlier.

His strong hands could surely do a lot, and his pretty blonde hair would look great between your legs—

God damn.

Leon broke your silent daydream by taking off his white-ruffled shirt. He handed it off to you at your side, gentlemen-like.

He meandered back to the couch, resuming his position of outstretched legs along the cushions, closing his eyes.

You checked over your shoulder to ensure his eyes were closed, and then you let your dress fall to the ground.

You dawned Leon's shirt. The cottony fabric felt soft against your skin and smelled overwhelming like him, rugged and masculine.

In the mirror, you watched yourself let down your updo, letting your hair fall and combing it out with your fingers. Here is where you noticed that Leon's shirt is just a little too sheer.

The outline of your silhouette was vaguely noticeable through his airy shirt, but your nipples were definitely visible.

Oh well.

You folded up the gown and placed it at the foot of the bed atop the quilted velvet ottoman. You were about to get into bed before peaking one more glance at Leon.

He was statuesque in the way his body stretched along the couch. He had a hand atop his very defined abs, and his other arm dangled off the couch.

The faint blueish hue of the moon illuminated him in gentle light, it was the only light in the room, save for the single lit candle next to the bed.

Leon was so pretty in the way he slept. He looked so at peace, so beautiful, and so kissable.

It pained you to not invite him to your bed; maybe in another lifetime, you would have.

But you certainly could not let him sleep without a blanket or a pillow.

You peeled off the first blanket layer of your bed, grabbed one of the many over-filled pillows, and tiptoed to where Leon rested.

Gently, you set a folded blanket on the foot of Leon's bed, causing him to open his eyes.

"What are you doing?" Leon's mumble trailed off into a yawn.

You whispered, "I don't want you to get cold, so I'm giving you some of my blankets."

Leon smiled faintly. "Oh, I see…" he trailed off and then added, "Thanks for that."

You looked pretty; your hair and makeup were a mess but in all the right ways.

Leon noticed how pretty you were. How pretty you were in his shirt, with nothing else underneath.

"I hope this is enough for you."

"Yes, it's more than enough," he reassured.

"I'm going to head to my bed then, goodnight Leon."

He didn't show it, and you would never know it, but he loved how you said his name.

"Goodnight to you, too."

In that moment, time stood still. You couldn't walk away. You wanted to bask in the shared space of each other's gazes, bound by lust. Leon, too, made no attempt to break away.

You'll probably regret it later, but there is no harm in trying, right?

Instead of leaving, you bent down as if to pick something up, but you stopped when you reached his ear.

"Leon..." You whispered quietly.

"Yes?"

Your heartbeat raced so fast it felt like it was gonna jump out of your chest. "Do you really want me to go?"

Leon paused, raking his mind for the correct answer. "No."

He turned his head, pressing his forehead to yours, and resting his hand on the back of your neck, running his fingers through your hair.

"I didn't want to either," you said breathily.

He smiled and kissed you. The first real kiss you shared. It felt like a wave of warmth crashing down your body, every one of your instincts telling you yes. His lips were soft and gentle against your own.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you," Leon whispered into the kiss.

You replied, "Me neither."

Leon pulled you by your waist, sitting you on top of him, and deepened the kiss by grazing his tongue against yours. He tasted purely of wine.

Your hands ran desperately through Leon's hair as his hands caressed your ribcage down to your hips. His grasp settled onto your waist, stroking his thumbs along your ribs. You playfully bit his lip, praising the way he touched you.

Leon's lips broke away from yours, and they began to press small kisses down your cheek, and then your neck, and then your chest. Every single one felt like pure ecstasy against your skin.

Your arms wrapped around Leon's neck as you arched your back, pressing your chest deeper into his kiss. His grasp along your waist tightened with your movement.

He was aching and so hard in the confined trousers he still wore; Leon rocked you against himself while he made out with your chest.

You moaned with gasping breaths at the feeling of him rutting into you, your head falling back carelessly.

Leon's hand met the spots he kissed, dancing along the wet skin of your chest. His wandering fingers teased the outer edge of the shirt you wore, wanting to pull it down. His lips followed down the V of the shirt, But before he could do anything more, you raised your arms, slipping the shirt over your head.

You were entirely exposed to him, save for your underwear. Leon thanked you by pressing kisses along your pretty breasts, thumbs twirling around your hardened nipples. His lips met where his thumbs danced, puckering his lips around your nipples, stroking and sucking them with his tongue.

You gasped, nearly at the edge of becoming undone. Leon worshipped your breasts like his own personal deity, letting out low, strained moans.

You lost all sense of control, grinding yourself into Leon's bulging lap, getting off at the sensation of his cock twitching for you.

"More," You moaned as Leon released the suck on your nipple with a wet-sounding smack.

You pressed down on Leon's chest, pushing him into the couch.

God, you looked so lovely and desperate from Leon's perspective.

Your hands slipped between your legs, resting on the bulge that strained between them. You caressed him through the fabric, teasing him with a pouty smirk.

Leon's mouth gaped slightly, sucking in a breath as he watched you adore him. You nimbly unbuttoned his pants, pulling down the zipper.

Leon sat up and pushed you back so your legs wrapped around his waist. He stood up, picking you up with ease, and walked you to the bed, gently resting you onto the fortress of overstuffed pillows.

He took off his trousers before joining you, his protruding cock making a tent in his underwear.

"You're beautiful," Leon fawned at your figure before bending down to kiss your thighs. "I loved touching your legs earlier, darling," he added.

You're fully melting at his sugar-covered affections.

You sat up, taking Leon's head in your delicate hands with a devouring kiss. You pulled him back, so he laid on top of you. One of his arms embraced you, and the other brushed between your legs.

His fingers toyed with you, sweetly caressing you through your soaked underwear. You moaned into the kiss as Leon began tracing small circles over the fabric. His hands then nuzzled beneath your underwear, meeting your aching sex fully.

His calloused fingers lapped your cunt, but ended on your clit, circling it gently. You broke from his kiss, head arching back from the intensity of pleasure you felt. Leon licked his lips as he watched you fold under him. Leon tugged off your underwear, deepening your pleasure as he rubbed his fingers around your opening.

Your hands, in desperate need of touch, caressed the expanse of Leon's amazingly defined torso. It alone killed you, the sheer strength he possessed. He was trained into a lethal weapon, but man, did he feel so good.

From Leon's torso, you ventured lower, tugging at the waistband of his underwear. Leon's gaze met your begging doe eyes, pleading him for more.

With your help, he pulled off his underwear, releasing his pretty, throbbing cock. Your hand softly wrapped around his length, petting him slowly. Leon's breath hitched as you did so.

You wrapped a leg around Leon's waist, pulling yourself up to straddle him. Perched on his lap, you rested your soaking cunt onto the length of his cock. Leon's hands dug into your hips, grinding his himself against your folds.

"Leon," you gasped, soaking in the feeling of him beneath you.

He moaned, hungrily watching the way your bodies met.

He sat up, pressing his chest against your stomach, and pressed kisses along your breasts. As he did so, he lifted you up by the waist, giving himself just enough space to push his length into you.

Loudly, you whimpered as his length filled your entire cunt. You bounced yourself on Leon as he sucked your nipples.

Leon released you from his mouth, lying back down, fingers digging into your upper thighs as he fucked himself into you hard. Letting his entire length fill you up before pulling back.

You couldn't help your hopeless cries and moans as his pace picked up, fucking you like the world depended on it. Maybe it did.

You were a few forceful pumps away from reaching your peak, and as you forced yourself into him even deeper, Leon lifted you up by the waist, off of him.

Dazed, you whined, "Why."

He only responded by nudging you over onto your hands and knees, spreading your legs wide for himself.

Leon's cock pressed at your entrance while his hand toyed with your clit, teasing you. He so very slowly pushed himself in, making you feel every inch of his length as he entered you.

"Just like that," he hushed under a moan and then rammed his cock into you, building up speed, fucking you faster and faster.

Your nails dug into the bed sheets, reaching for something that does not exist. Leon smacked your ass with a deep moan as his tip reached even deeper inside of you.

The only noise filling the room was the sound of your skin clapping against his and your shared feverish moans.

"You feel so good," you cooed, pawing at the sheets. "I don't think I can last much longer."

He slowed down his pace, pulling his cock almost entirely out of you before inching himself back in. "You can last just a little longer for me, pretty girl."

"Okay, yes, please just fuck me harder," you pleaded. Grinding yourself on his length, desperate for more than he was giving.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Leon groaned and fucked you so hard that the bed was shaking back and forth. His arm reached up from behind, grasping your neck in his hand. He was hunched over you, fingers squeezing your jaw as he plunged deeper and faster.

His teeth were clenched, and his breath was fast as he burrowed his throbbing cock so far into your cunt that you came completely undone, crying his name as you rode your climax out.

"Leon, Leon, Leon," you cried as your wetness dripped down his leg.

Leon's breath seized as he pulled himself out of you, resting his cock on the small of your back, spilling hot all over your skin.

His grasp loosened, trailing down your neck. His head rested on your back, reeling himself back from his climax.

You rested your body, splaying yourself along the bed. Leon got off of you and frantically looked around the room for something to wipe your back with. He settled on the blanket you had left for him on the couch, thinking to himself, their problem, not mine.

"Thanks," you giggled as he cleaned you off.

He crawled into bed, tucking into the massive billowy covers, and you did the same. You blew out the single candle next to the bedside, leaving only moonlight to douse the room.

Leon opened up his arm, beckoning you into his embrace.

You cuddled him, soaking up his scent and his warmth. All while relishing in the tingling euphoria your body felt.

"Goodnight, for real?" Leon said quietly, sleep heavy in his voice.

"Goodnight, for real, Leon." Your heavy lids shut, falling into sleep.

── ･ ｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

You wake up on Leon's chest to a knock at the door. The morning sun singed the pounding headache induced by last night's wine-filled activities.

Leon woke up, too, wincing and rubbing his temples. He got out of bed, pulling on his underwear and pants.

Leon's hair was a disheveled mess, and the remnants of your lipstick still stained his neck and his cheek. He answered the door to one of the servants standing there.

She bowed, her thick French accent trembling. "Lord Kennedy, I apologize if I interrupted, but the king wants a word with you."

"Can you show me to the bath first? You can't seriously expect me to talk to him looking like this?" he sounded harsh, and you almost forgot about the character he had to play.

Her voice trembled. "Yes, of course, sir. Not that you look bad, but yes, I'll show you to the bath."

"And her too," the servant peaked her head through the doorway, under the arm that Leon propped himself up with, and saw you, sitting up in bed, covering your naked body with the duvet.

She immediately ducked back in line, "Yes, of course." she bowed her head once more.

Leon tossed you his shirt, which was lying on the ground beside the couch. Quickly put it on, and with a motion of his hand, Leon summoned you to him.

You acted shy, meekly hiding behind Leon.

"Follow me, My lord," The servant hushed, trailing you two down the hallway.

As you tiptoed down the hall, you were barefoot and more exposed than you cared to be. It felt slightly embarrassing, but there was no point in caring now, was there? At least you found amusement in a shirtless Leon.

The servant guided Leon to a bathroom for himself. She signaled him in with her hand while her head was low.

Before he entered, he added, looking down at the servant. "And get her a new dress, she can't go out looking like that... And she wouldn't be caught dead wearing her evening dress during the day, would she?" Leon sounded like an absolute asshole, but that was somehow amusing.

"Yes, my lord," She bowed for the 100th time.

He entered the bathing room, closing the door behind him, and the servant showed you to another bathroom.

── ･ ｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

You bathed in a massive clawfoot tub, sweet floral soap washing off all the makeup and memories of last night.

You were not sure how to even feel about last night. You'd never slept with a coworker before; you barely sleep with anyone anymore. Is this going to make things awkward when you leave? Or are you to pretend nothing happened at all?

A servant knocked on the door, interrupting your silent pondering before letting herself in. She quietly hung a pretty cream-colored Victorian gown hanging behind the door.

"Madame, Lord Kennedy is speaking with the King. He has asked you to wait while they finish up. We prepared breakfast for you in the dining room in case they go long. When you're ready, the dining room is down the stairs and to the left."

Who are you kidding, there are more pressing issues ahead; you're bathing and being fed in a vampire cult's castle for God's sake.

"Thank you," you said sweetly.

The servant promptly left the bathroom with a bow.

Soon, you will eliminate these vile creatures and leave. You just have to tough it out a little longer. One more day of acting like a mild-tempered little plaything, and this will all be over.

part two xx

[askthechronoverse]

Chapter Nine: ... Until it Was Not

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The evening air was still and suffocating to Rex as he sat on his front porch. Puppycorn was playing a few feet away in the wet grass, despite the warnings that it had only just rained and his human companion wasn’t going to give him a bath before bedtime. Tired dark eyes kept watch over the little dog, occasionally flicking to the pathway heading toward the Unikingdom. A strange looking rifle was leaning against the cabin wall within arm’s reach. If he wasn’t babysitting, he wouldn’t be nearly as paranoid. He’d seen the movies: when someone you care about was near and you least expect it, the bad guy would show up. It hadn’t happened yet, but he was ready if it did.

“So, am I gonna be stayin’ over this time?” Puppycorn chewed on something Rex prayed was just the puppy’s favorite red ball.

“Yeah. Repeat back what I toldja.” The human’s voice was stern to compensate for his paranoia.

“You’re gonna lock the door to your room when you go to bed. Don’t open the door no matter what I think you say or any noises I hear.” The puppy shook some of the wetness off of his body. “I don’t get why, though.”

“I sometimes move around in my sleep like I’m awake. That’s what I’ve been told, anyway. Don’t remember any of it.” Rex shrugged. “I’m not sure why Hawkodile trusts me with you like this, to be honest. Was literally everyone else tied up?”

“I asked Big Sis to talk him into it. Hawkodile called this a… test run, I think. Maybe that means he’ll let me stay over more if we pass the test.” The thing in the puppy’s mouth squeaked with each letter that featured a closed mouth. Rex still hoped that thing was a ball.

“Fair enough.” Rex heard some noise coming from the pathway. “Kid. Get in the cabin. Now.” Before the puppy could get inside, a cloaked figure with a spiked collar and a white face approached. The dog hid behind his human friend. “I didn’t invite you to this party. Get out.”

“Nah. Don’t think I will.” The voice from this being was decidedly female. “You must be the guy responsible for the very brief end of the world. Your origin story makes me giggle. It’s good stuff. Wish I could have watched you down there in the lonely desert.” She shrugged. “Oh well. Maybe if I wish really hard, I can see that pain in your eyes. It probably didn’t really go away.” She put her hand under her pupiless eyes and pulled down. “Now. You and the boss have business. I’m just here to take you to the Doom Lord Tower.”

“I’m not leaving the kid. Can’t you tell your boss to come here?”

“Not really. She said that you don’t have a choice this time. I’m sure Master Malice can take care of the prince while you and the boss discuss business.” She got closer to Puppycorn, but Rex stepped between the two.

“No. She wants to talk to me, the kid doesn’t leave my sight. Got it?” Rex growled, startling both the stranger and Puppycorn.

“A bit silly to take a child into a business meeting, but you’re the one we’ve got to make happy here. Okay. The prince stays with you. Come with me.” She turned to leave. “And maybe show me those eyes. I want to see the pain behind them a little more.” Rex rolled said eyes and turned to Puppycorn.

“Stay close to me. I know this isn’t ideal, but if they hurt you…” He had to stop himself from scaring his young friend further.

“Oh, do keep going with that threat, Dangervest. I’d love to imagine what you have in that twisted mind of yours if we hurt the prince.” She laughed darkly. The trio walked out of the forest, across a large river, and into the gray metropolis that was Frowntown. Rex looked around him and saw that the place was as depressing as the name suggested. He shook his head, replaying the choices he made to get him into this mess in his head. They eventually got to a large imposing tower. Rex rolled his eyes again as he looked up at the top.

“I’ve broken into bigger and scarier.” He quipped. The door opened and the human and puppy prince were escorted into a large dark room. The two were surrounded by a tall table that reminded Rex of the place where a judge sits. Only this one had a chair for each of what he assumed to be other Doom Lords and, of course, Master Doom was seated at the center of it all, right in front of the two. Puppycorn cowered behind him while Rex petted his head reassuringly.

“You know why you’re here, right Mr. Brickowski?” Doom put her hands together. “Please, don’t give a sarcastic reply. I’m already unhappy you insisted on bringing your playmate with you.”

“Yeah. You’ve got a quota on the souls ya need to collect by the end of the quarter and ya need me to sign that contract. Right?”

“I was told you were hard of hearing, but I think you intentionally ignored me. No matter. You get the point. I was expecting an answer by the end of the month and you chose to just ignore me. This seems to be a pattern with you, Mr. Brickowski.” Her voices were oddly pleasant for someone who facially looked like she was about to go off on the human like a nuclear explosion.

“I don’t work for you, last I checked. I also have to wait for my lawyer to look at the thing. He’s a bit slow because he’s just a raptor with an industrial size paper shredder.” The man looked down at Puppycorn, keeping the dog close to his side.

“Oh that’s hilarious. I’m still expecting an answer one way or the other. I have a small window of opportunity and my strategy will continue with or without your help. I would prefer to have your help, however. You may be a child, but your strength and loose morals make you what I need.” She could have stared into his soul with the intensity of her gaze. “I’ll take a verbal agreement for the time being. Are you with me, Mr. Brickowski?” One of the Doom Lords dropped a pin to the floor for some mocking effect.

“First: Do you insult every potential business partner like that, or am I special? I mean, I know I was The Special at one point, but this is just getting aggravating. Second: Contracts are for businesses and crossroad encounters. This may feel like the last one, but I’m pretty sure ya see this whole ‘do bad things’ thing as a nine to five. I was more of a chaotic indie artist. I did bad things for passion and unresolved psychological trauma. So no, ya sellout. I ain’t agreein’ to anything.” Puppycorn looked at Rex, bewildered. His friend didn’t respond to the look, instead focusing on Master Doom.

“Did you consider what the royal family has done for you like I asked? The world rejected you to the point where you didn’t think anything in it was real.”

“That’s because we’re literally in the heads of two kids playing in a basement. Or one kid trying to do something creative. Not sure it matters right now. Here’s the thing: the royal family gave me a second chance. Yeah, that’s what you offered me too, but I don’t think a 401k and revenge on the known galaxy is what I need right now. Gave it a shot once and got to experience the emptiness of non-existence for my efforts. I don’t recommend it.” The puppy was shocked at how well Rex was keeping his cool though all this.

“I can still see the pain in your eyes.” The pupiless woman chimed in. “You can’t get rid of that kind of pain with friendship and a life of leisure.”

“I can sense your fear as well. Fear of the uneasy peace you’ve managed to forge falling around you. Fear of knowing the people you’ve surrounded yourself with are capable of betraying you, like they’ve done in the past.” A being with a teardrop face added to the voices. “Even the fear you will lose the ones you choose to care about in an instant.”

“You hide your anger behind sarcasm and someone else’s ideals. You still harbor hatred in your heart. You’ve let it out before. Nothing wrong with doing it again.” A creature that resembled a bull without the snout stated.

“We can offer you an outlet for all of those things. We can ease your pain and let you let your pent up malice run free. We are a better help to you than the princess or that little child tugging at your vest. They’ll hold you back. We’ll make you stronger.” Doom was keeping any real emotional reaction from leaking to her face.

“Let’s talk about the kid, since ya just dragged him into the conversation. He’s the one person on this candy colored rock I want to be strong for. I may hate this universe and the people playing with it, but the kid… he’s alright. He’s there for me and I’m there for him. You can’t give me what we have.”

“You would throw away a second chance at revenge for a child?” Doom sounded disgusted.

“Looks like it. What can I say? The kid’s got a certain charm.” He ruffled the puppy’s ears.

“You will regret the decision you just made when you fall with the rest of this kingdom.” Doom’s echoing voice made Puppycorn practically lean against his human friend.

“You don’t know me as well as I thought. I invented the phrase “no regrets”. Still waiting for the patent lawyer I hired to get back to me on trademarking it.” He smirked. “I think we’re done here, then. My friend and I are gonna go now.” Before the two could leave, the bull creature and one that looked like a bird blocked the door.

"Oh, we can't let you leave. Now that you made the wrong decision, you became a threat to my plan. You both know too much. Especially you, Mr. Brickowski." Master Doom stepped down from her chair. "Thankfully, you don't know everything. But you can still warn the others that we're making moves against the Unikingdom. No, you two will need to stay here until our strategy is in full force." She was going to say more, but Rex put up a hand to stop her.

"Oh. Let me guess the next thing you're gonna say: 'Make sure they don't escape by any means necessary!' I'm right, right? So is a death trap involved or was that not in the quarterly budget?" The cocky grin never left his face despite the danger he and his companion were in.

"Please gag the child pretending he's somehow clever before taking your positions. I feel like he's not going to shut up for this whole thing. I don't care how you do it " Master Doom left the room with a majority of the other Doom Lords, leaving Rex and Puppycorn alone with the pupiless woman and a diamond headed figure with what Rex suspected was an emo haircut.

"Okay. Two against one. I can handle those odds." Rex stretched his arm. "Get behind me, kid. I'm gonna-!" The pupiless woman smacked him in the back of the head while the other Doom Lord grappled him, pinning his arms to his side.

"Nope. Being the hero isn't in the cards for you tonight, Dangervest." She leaned in close. "Ah! That pain is so much stronger now! I bet we can make it stronger if we lock him in the supply closet and just… forget he was ever here."

"That would be a good way to make him miserable. Away from his friend where we can make him forget, too. I think that would get us a bonus for sure." She tried to drag Rex out of the room, but the man started to struggle to get free.

"Kid! Run! I'll hold 'em off!" He spoke frantically, mostly focused on getting out of the Doom Lord's grasp. Puppycorn ran for the door and was cut off from escape by the Doom Lord not occupied with Rex.

"You know, I thought you were a heartless jerk, Dangervest. Master Doom was right: you did go soft. That has to be why you sided with the prince over us. This'll make it easier to drag out the pain in your formerly black heart." The woman's laughter turned Rex's face, which was previously softened by fear, hard with rage and disgust. He flicked his eyes from Puppycorn to the door, which was left open just enough for the puppy to be able to push through. The puppy waited for the Doom Lord blocking his way to focus on Rex and snuck out the door. Just before he left Rex behind, he looked back and saw relief wash on his friend's tired face.

–

The late evening air was as antagonistic to Puppycorn now as it was to Rex earlier. He couldn't think of where his sister and her friends were. Was it a party? It was usually a party, so that had to be it. But where? He realized quickly that it would take a while to get to the Unikingdom anyway from here. He could only think of one place he could go. He ran to an apartment complex and knocked on a specific door. He shook a little, hoping the two people who lived there were there. A being who looked like a grey tombstone poked his head out of the door.

"Hey, little dude!" He opened the door fully, revealing a yellow faced figure with a hood was directly behind him. "Something wrong?"

"The Doom Lords have my friend!" The puppy was let in by the grey being and handed some cookies.

"You have friends?" The yellow faced kid laughed. "Look, if the Doom Lords have your buddy, go find your sister. I can't help you. I still work for them. Actually, I should complain when I come in on Monday. I was never briefed on this."

"I know, Master Frown! But I don't know anyone else in Frowntown besides you and Brock. My friend was supposed to babysit me and he got asked to go see Master Doom and-!" Master Frown erupted in laughter again.

"You aren't seeing your friend any time soon, then! Do I know the kid? I'll inform his family!" From his tone, it was clear that Master Frown was amused by all of this.

"No. But his name is RJ... Rex Brickowski." Puppycorn slumped a little.

"Hang on. That name's familiar." The teenager paused for a moment. "Did he go by Rex Dangervest at some point?"

"Yeah! I don't know if he likes that name anymore, though. He changed it… or something."

"Okay, you got nothing to worry about. He's probably working with Master Doom to do something big to the Unikingdom as we speak." Master Frown nodded with some weird level of admiration. "The guy's a living legend. He was all anyone was talking about for a while around the water cooler." Puppycorn's pupils shrank.

"He said he wouldn't do that! He kept telling them he didn't want to work for them!" The puppy looked back at the door he came through.

"The guy said no to Master Doom? He's got major guts but that's what I would expect from the guy who ended the world. Yeah, he's probably still fine but he won't be for long." Master Frown sat on the couch and grabbed a game controller that was on the cushion next to where he sat.

"You can stay with us for the night, Puppycorn. I'll order some grub. It's Alan's turn to pay anyway." Brock grabbed the phone and started to order some food.

"So. What's Dangervest really like? Would he sign something if I asked you to ask him? Tell me!" Frown was the antithesis of his name as he spoke in a way most young girls would talk about a popstar.

"He's not a bad guy. I think he just really likes me, but he's a really good friend. Maybe you could ask him when he comes to get me? He does have to come get me." Puppycorn wasn't sure how to respond to this fanboyism except if he had to be honest with himself.

"You're right! If he's somehow been saddled with babysitting duty, he'll have to crash in here when he's done with whatever he's doing with the Doom Lords." There was a twinkle in the former Doom Lord's eye that was worrying for someone who knew him. "How did you guys make him agree to that? I woulda thought he would have been taming raptors or fighting bears or something."

"He just likes me. I dunno." Brock opened the door and came back with burgers and fries in a large bag. He handed the receipt to Frown, who rolled his eyes and gave Brock the money owed.

"I don't know why. Someone that awesome like you? I don't buy it." Frown bit into a burger. "That's if you aren't making the whole thing up to impress me. Actually, I think I can call reception and call you out. " He snatched the phone and quickly dialed a number. "Heeeeey, Misery! They got you on phone duty? Sucks to suck! So, I hear ya got the Rex Dangervest down there. Uh huh. Uh huh. Can you ask him something? Huh. Okay. Yeah, no clue. Bye." He hung up and shrugged. "Well. You're right about him being in the Doom Lord offices. I picked a really bad time to take a day off."

"Is he OK?" Puppycorn's eyebrows furrowed.

"Yeah, he's tied up. Like with rope. He's not happy about it. Neither is Misery, apparently. He's a talker and mostly threatening to burn down the tower. Also, they know you escaped. I'd grab your food to go."

"Need someone to take you home?" Brock offered.

"I wanna help RJ." Puppycorn looked at the door.

"Not gonna happen. He's the guy who destroyed the universe with one punch. One he didn't even have to throw himself. And he's tied up and being watched by Pain and Misery. What are you gonna do?"

"I dunno! But he's my friend! I gotta do something!" Puppycorn started to run out the door to find the rest of his friends and family.

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day. Welcome to Too Much Information Tuesday!

IKEA a.k.a. The Swedish Divorce Maze.

The record for most female orgasms in one hour is 134.

White chocolate doesn’t actually contain any chocolate.

45% of people falsely claim to have been skydiving.

People are more likely to lie in the afternoon than in the morning.

There is a road in Rome built in 312 BC and it's still in use today.

Love is neurologically addictive.

Jacob Rees-Mogg has just tested ‘negative’ for Christianity.

The largest military tank was made by Porsche for the Nazis.

Every public tweet is recorded in the Library of Congress.

Dostoevsky wrote ‘The Gambler’ to pay off his gambling debts.

60% of the alcohol in America is drunk by 10% of the people.

Replacement eyelids can be made from foreskins.

19% of Americans think they're in the top 1% of earners.

Nigerian email scams were introduced to Nigeria by the British.

The Wikipedia page for 'Pedant' has been edited over 500 times.

In Italy, it's illegal to build a house that doesn't have a bidet.

Research suggests women make more jokes when they’re not being interrupted by men.

Male coin spiders only have sex once. After mating, they chew off their own genitals.

The FBI estimates that there are 300 people pretending to be US Navy SEALs for every genuine one.

There are mountains in Antarctica called Nipple Peak, Dick Peaks and Mount Cocks.

If Napoleon's sister Pauline got cold feet, she would warm them in the cleavage of one of her ladies-in-waiting.

Having regular orgasms can improve your decision-making skills, creativity, and even make you more social.

The chocolatey filling between the wafers in a KitKat is made out of recycled KitKats.

US rapper 50 Cent announces that he now wishes to be known in the UK as 1 Pound.

Castration prevents male pattern baldness, as long as it's done before any hair is lost.

Knowing you have the next day off is more relieving than the actual day off.

When you kiss someone, you get a spike in the neurotransmitter dopamine, making you crave more.

Ottoman emperor Murad The Cruel put 25,000 people to death for smoking.

Ironically, Truss knows all too well what a weak pound from Kwasi Kwarteng feels like!

South Korea shut down its entire space programme in 2014 when its only astronaut resigned.

The worlds shortest international bridge connects Spain to Portugal and is 3.2 metres long.

If Elon Musk lost 99.9% of his net worth, he would still have about $273 million.

Greece's first national airline was named Icarus Airlines. It went bankrupt within months.

The Eiffel Tower was originally supposed to be in Barcelona, Spain, but the project was rejected for being too “expensive and strange”.

The sports bra was invented in the 1970s by sewing two jockstraps together.

Research at MIT has shown that only half of perceived friendships are mutual. Only half the people you consider friends think of you as a friend and vice versa.

Caffeine doesn't actually give you energy, it just blocks the adenosine receptors in your brain; the ones that let you know when you're tired.

Twitter is the second-most educated social media platform in America, with 42% of its users having a college education. LinkedIn is ranked first with 56%.

Genghis Khan killed so many people that the earth began to cool. 40 million people were wiped off the planet, vast areas of farmland were reclaimed by the forests and carbon levels dropped significantly.

Ernest Hemingway often told friends and family he thought the FBI was following him, but they just told him he was paranoid. Years after he died, the FBI released files showing that they had been following him and bugging his phones for the last 20 years of his life.

In 1991, a naked, bleeding boy was spotted by Milwaukee police fleeing a man's apartment. The officers returned with him, spoke to a man who said they had a "lovers' quarrel" and then left. The 14-year-old boy had been drugged and the man was Jeffrey Dahmer.

In Norse mythology, Thor was once disguised as a bride and brought to Thrym (a giant) with Loki as his bridesmaid. Thrym became suspicious after Thor ate an entire ox, eight salmon, and drank several barrels of wine.

In 2007, a Bosnian couple cheated on each other with each other. They had spent time in a chat room bonding about their marital woes. When they met in person, they found out the person they had been complaining to was their spouse. They got divorced.

Okay, that’s enough information for one day. Have a tremendous and tumultuous Tuesday! I love you all.

[starsoverthehorizon]

Mod #4 - Puella Outfit Mod

Bit of a short one today.

The Puella Outfit Mod, aka the Time Lord Outfit, was posted December 8th, 2017.

The description reads:

A young Moon Child walked through a dream and saw the memories of another.

There she journeyed to the Origin, realm of the Enlightened. On top of the Tower of Judgement overlooking the Edge of the Existence she rejected her false gods and made a difficult decision.

Choosing The Void, she was reborn as an Enlightened and watched over her flame until Time's Beginning. (Even though she Ghosted)

This mod gives us Puella’s dark outfit, her red eyes, and her hat. Her hat is called the “Time Lord Hat” and functions the same way as the Sprint Hat. I’ve tested it, and can confirm it works with the Scooter Badge. It doesn’t change hair color. You’ll have to use a dye with black hair (like the Widower) if you want to match Puella 1-to-1.

In my humble opinion, the mod looks pretty good with the Blood Moon dye.

This mod also gives us Puella’s umbrella, which is pretty… unusual-looking. We never saw Puella wielding an umbrella in the videos, so this might just be what her umbrella looks like. When used with the Hover Badge, the umbrella is black with patches of glowing red. The color scheme does match her.

Discussion It’s interesting that the icon for the mod has Puella with her right eye shut—we saw in 11:10 that she survived (?) the fight with Cavum, but her right eye remained shut. That she’s still keeping it shut might be visual shorthand for the loss of her eye. She’s posed in front of the Time’s End bookstore from the cut beta ending. It’s not clear if there’s significance to that or if it’s Aesthetic™.

Now, let’s dissect that description.

“A young Moon Child walked through a dream and saw the memories of another.” In “11:?? – Farewell,” Cavum called Hat Kid “Moon Child.” Ergo, this description is telling us that in White Tower Forest, Hat Kid witnessed the memories of Puella. This matches up with the fact that we saw Hat Kid in cutscenes, but the NPCs called us “Puella.”

“There she journeyed to the Origin, realm of the Enlightened.” For me, this sentence parses strangely. We know both the “Moon Child” and the “another” in the previous line is female, so it’s not clear who the subject is now. Either way, Puella made it to the place the shade of Cavum called the Origin. The Origin could be just the dark space with the Piece and the flame or if it includes the Edge of Existence. It would make more sense to me if it were just the dark place, since including the Edge would make the spirits we see Enlightened, and I feel confident in saying Cavum probably didn’t become an Enlightened. There might be some overlap, in that some Enlightened appears as the light spirits, but not all spirits are Enlightened.

Side note—the Founders looked a lot like those spirits. Were they Enlightened?

“On top of the Tower of Judgement overlooking the Edge of the Existence she rejected her false gods and made a difficult decision.” Whatever she chose, it couldn’t have been easy. To choose one was to sacrifice another, and as we heard from Cavum and Puella, Master Tempus taught against the sacrifice, since doing so leads to Unbalance and therefore destruction.

“Choosing The Void, she was reborn as an Enlightened and watched over her flame until Time's Beginning.” Puella’s canonical choice WAS the Void. It’s curious how it’s framed as a positive thing, since making this choice required casting off “false gods.” Contrast that to “11:7 – The Realm of Dreams,” where Master Tempus frames the Void as incredibly dangerous.

Was this really the right choice, Puella?

Theoretically, Puella only knows what happens when she chooses the Void. She doesn’t actually know what would have happened when she sacrificed the Sun or the Moon. So, what Hat Kid sees when she picks those routes might be Puella’s extrapolations based on what she knows of picking the Void.

There’s a few things that no longer line up now that we have this information. Puella definitely ascended to Enlightenment, which is fine, but then it states that she watched over her flame until Time’s Beginning… but we met the original Tempus when we went the Void route. It’s possible that Time’s Beginning has already happened, so Puella the Enlightened doesn’t need to watch over her flame.

But why did we meet Tempus with the Void rather than Puella? Since Puella chose the Void, I’d associate her more strongly with the Void than Tempus. Admittedly, it’s implied in “11:7 – The Realm of Dreams” that Tempus had a traumatic experience regarding the Void. That might be enough for a thematic association.

Still, Puella’s ultimate rejection of the Moon (and the Founders) and acceptance of the Void makes her placement with the Moon strange. Hell, even Puella’s color scheme of black and red is STRONGLY associated with the Void.

It feels like we’re missing something :T

“(Even though she Ghosted)” Ghosting is a valid tactic when you’re trapped in Platforming Hell.

[skyward-floored]

@goosekee here’s the other fic I wrote using your prompt! I hope you all enjoy :)

(The original prompt)

————————————————————

“Hyrule! Hey traveler!”

Hyrule groaned at the shout, lifting himself off the ground where he’d somehow ended up. Then immediately stopped as his head spun and his vision blurred, what few colors he could see smearing in an dizzying way.

When his gaze finally refocused, he saw Wind standing in front of him with a steadying hand on his arm, giving him a slightly worried grin.

“You okay? That portal was intense wasn’t it, my ears are still ringing,” the sailor said, wincing as a particularly loud bird called nearby.

Hyrule slowly nodded, then looked around at where they were. The two had landed in a small forest clearing, pine needles coating the ground in a soft cushion. Birds were chirping as they started to settle in for the night, and a soft breeze rustled the towering trees above them.

Nobody else was there.

“I don’t know what happened to the others,” Wind said a little worriedly, “they’re probably fine though, right?” Hyrule hummed in agreement, shaking off the last of his dizziness. Dark magic always gave him a headache.

Wind’s stomach suddenly gurgled, the noise loud in the mostly quiet forest, and Hyrule couldn’t help but snicker.

“What? We didn’t get to eat dinner remember? I’m starved!” the sailor moaned, pouting at Hyrule’s laughter. The traveler stopped giggling and sent him a slightly apologetic smile.

“I actually have some food in here if you want,” he mentioned with a gesture towards his pouch, and Wind lunged for it, nearly knocking him over.

“Great! Give it here, I’m dying!” he said eagerly, and Hyrule stumbled back in alarm as he tried to pull it off his belt.

“Wind wait, careful! You’re going to-“

Hyrule’s pouch suddenly snapped off his belt, flying across the clearing and spilling several of its contents behind it as it flew, before it landed with a small crunch in the needles. Hyrule gaped for a second, then darted forward, grabbing the fallen pouch and snatching up the most precious items that had fallen out.

“Sailor, you spilled all my stuff!”

Wind blushed, giving his neck an embarrassed scratch. “Sorry traveler, I wasn’t trying to fling it, honest. Look, I’ll help you clean it u- oh. We’ve got company.”

Hyrule looked up from his work to see two glowing eyes peering at him from a bush.

He put a hand on his weapon, but something stopped him from just flinging a sword beam and vaporizing whatever it was. It’s gaze seemed more intelligent than a monster, and watchful... and hungry. It looked rather hungry.

It stuck its nose out, and Hyrule and Wind both studied the greyish snout that was now sniffling curiously at them.

“Oh! It’s one of those things!” Wind exclaimed in a whisper as not to scare it away. “The... the big dog things Twilight was talking about!”

“A wolf I think, right?” said Hyrule, eyeing the creature at the edge of the clearing warily, “didn’t he say they were dangerous?”

Wind shrugged, watching in fascination as the wolf poked its head further out of the scrub, revealing two softly pointed ears, and a face splashed with white markings.

“Yeah, but remember what Wild said to us yesterday?” Wind said. “About the nice wolf he knows that helps him? I bet this is it!”

Hyrule still wasn’t sure, even when the wolf padded carefully into the clearing and began to tear into some of the meat that had spilled from his bag. It seemed calm enough, and as the traveler watched it, he realized this particular one was a female.

“I didn’t know Wolfie was a girl,” he commented with a raised eyebrow, “plus didn’t Wild say it had been a while since the wolf had come around?” Wind just shrugged, grabbing some more of Hyrule’s dropped meat and inching towards the animal with careful, cautious movements.

Probably-Wolfie raised her head as the sailor approached, and Wind paused, slowly stretching out a hand her way. She’d finished her meat, and now gave the sailor a curious look, tilting her head at him then padding closer. She sniffed his outstretched hand, then her tail began to wag as she nibbled the meat he held. It quickly disappeared, but she continued to lick his fingers even after the food was gone, and she suddenly pushed closer to try and lick at his face.

“Hey, stop!” Wind laughed, “look she’s nice, it must be Wolfie! Wild must’ve just forgotten to mention she was a girl is all.”

He giggled as she continued to lick his face, then spluttered as she got her tongue in his mouth, still laughing.

Hyrule watched the two out of the corner of his eye as he picked up his gear, seeing no aggression in the animal. Maybe the sailor was right, and this was Wolfie. Wild had only said the wolf was grey with white markings, and this one certainly matched the description.

He finally gave in, coming closer and cautiously holding his own hand out for her to inspect. She turned her attention from Wind and sniffed the traveler’s hand for a minute, before giving it what seemed like an approving lick.

Then she gently took Wind’s tunic in her mouth, whining and pulling at the blue fabric.

“What is it girl?” the sailor asked, and Wolfie whined again. Then she pulled back from the two and started to pad away, but not before giving them a look over her shoulder.

“I think she wants us to follow her,” Wind said, wiping some wolf slobber off his face, “I bet she’ll take us back to the others! C’mon!”

And he trotted dutifully behind her, Hyrule shrugging and going along with it after only a moment.

What did they have to lose?

Wolfie led them through the forest for maybe fifteen minutes before abruptly pulling to a stop at the top of a small rise, barking at the heroes. Wind and Hyrule exchanged a look and trotted up the hill behind her, joining her at the top next to a towering pine tree. The sailor leaned over the edge, them gasped at what laid at the bottom.

A hunter’s trap, a thick rope net that looked old but sturdy hung from one of the tree branches below, its thick loops pulled around a fuzzy little wolf cub.

The little creature looked exhausted, and whined softly when it caught sight of them.

“Oh the poor little guy!” Wind exclaimed, wasting no time in sliding down the incline and immediately running over to the net, “who knows how long he’s- wait, she’s, been here?”

Wolfie yipped and followed after him, sniffing up at the trapped cub who whined again and let out a sad little howl.

Hyrule slid down next, studying the net. It looked like an old trap, probably long forgotten by whoever had placed it here, but the ropes were coated in some sort of substance that had hardened over the years, making it sturdy enough that neither of the wolves could easily gnaw through them. They’d obviously tried though, based on the teeth marks he could see.

“I bet this is why Wild hasn’t seen Wolfie in a while, she must have found this pup and not wanted to leave her,” Wind said softly, petting the cub through the holes in the net. She yipped and nibbled at his fingers.

“Probably been bringing her food too,” said Hyrule, noting the few bones on the ground below the net. “How do we get her out?”

“This?” Wind suggested, pulling out an obviously well-loved dagger.

Hyrule studied it intently, noting the relatively sharpened edge, then shook his head. “No, that’s not strong enough. This rope is practically fused together; a little knife like that won’t do it.”

Wind drooped.

“Well... our swords will work, right?” he asked hopefully. Hyrule hummed.

“Probably. But they’re so big it’ll be hard to maneuver, we’ll have to be careful. Don’t want to hurt her.”

The pup let out another whine, and Hyrule drew his sword, carefully angling it in a way so that even if it did slip it would more likely cut him rather then the wolf cub.

Wolfie growled a warning, and Wind carefully patted her on the head.

“It’s okay girl, we’re helping,” he reassured, and the wolf seemed to calm down. Hyrule began to saw at the ropes, little flecks of the hard substance floating through the air as he cut. The angle was rather awkward, and he could feel his arms rapidly begin to tire from holding the sword up and sawing back and forth, but his efforts weren’t in vain, as a few minutes later he managed to cut through one of the ropes.

Wind cheered and Hyrule grinned, moving to another section.

Hopefully he wouldn’t have to cut too much more for the cub to be able to slip free, but he wasn’t sure how big of a hole he’d have to make in the end. So he kept sawing, slowly separating more and more of the net as the minutes ticked by.

Then suddenly the cub plopped right down into his arms.

“You got her!” Wind cheered, and came closer to look at the little cub, who appeared a bit stunned by her newfound freedom. She was mostly grey, only a few splashes of white on her muzzle and chest, but her eyes were bright as she shook off her surprise and happily licked what parts of Hyrule she could reach.

“Looks like she’s okay,” Hyrule commented, trying to stop the pup from licking his face. He didn’t succeed.

Wind watched the cub wriggle in Hyrule’s arms, laughing as it continued to lick Hyrule despite his attempts to make her stop. “We should name her! Something really good, like... like Tetra!”

Hyrule raised an eyebrow. “After your Zelda?”

“Well yeah, just look at her! The name is perfect!”

The newly christened Tetra promptly leaned across Hyrule’s arm and ate a bug off his shoulder.

The traveler merely raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t going to even bother trying to understand that one.

Shaking his head, he gently sat the squirming pup down next to Wolfie, who immediately bent down and began licking her. The two heroes watched with grins on their faces as she was cleaned, laughing when Wolfie finally stopped her incessant licking and Tetra was left with a large spiked up curl of fur on her head.

“Now she really does look like Tetra,” Wind giggled, and Hyrule had to agree.

Then Wolfie gently picked the cub up by the scruff, and began to pad off, but not before glancing back at Wind and Hyrule with a muffled bark.

“I think she wants us to follow her again,” Wind said, “maybe this was just a pit stop on the way to where everybody else is!”

Hyrule shrugged, wiping drool off his cheek. “I honestly have no idea.”

And they once again followed the wolf through the forest.

(...)

“You seem tense rancher.”

Twilight startled at the words from next to him, and he looked over to see Time had slowed his stride and was now walking beside him.

The older man’s eyebrows were raised, and he was giving Twilight a slightly concerned look with his one eye narrowed.

Twilight sighed.

“I’m worried,” he admitted. “We still haven’t found Wind and Hyrule and it’s nearly dark. What if they’re hurt?”

“We haven’t run into a single monster in this whole area, I’m sure they’re fine,” Time reassured. “Besides, our traveler hero is with the sailor. It’s not too terribly surprising we haven’t come across them yet.”

Twilight snorted. “That’s true I suppose.”

He looked up at the rapidly darkening sky just barely visible through the branches of the pine trees.

“I can’t help but worry though-“

“We found them!”

Twilight and Time both started and looked over at where Sky’s call had come from. The chosen hero had been in the front of the group and was waving to them, a completely unconcerned smile on his face. The two barely exchanged a glance before immediately jogging up to where the others were standing by the entrance of a small cave a little ways ahead.

Where inside sat Hyrule and Wind, laughing as a group of wolf pups crawled all over them.

Twilight froze, and his eyes grew huge as he looked at the squirming critters, a delighted smile starting to form on his face. Warriors had to come over and physically stop him from immediately joining the cuddle pile, gesturing to the adult wolf sitting in the back of the den who was eyeing the other heroes with distrust. Twilight reluctantly pulled back.

Wind finally noticed them all standing there and looked up, grinning from ear-to-ear as a pup chewed on his hand.

“Guys! Look, Wolfie had puppies!” the sailor exclaimed as another nibbled on his belt buckle, “it must be why champion hasn’t seen her in a while, she was all busy taking care of them! Aren’t they cute?”

Twilight, Wild, Time and Four all froze, their eyes widening.

Then the rancher’s face turned a bright flaming red, and Wild fell to the ground, laughing so hard that little wheezes were coming out instead of actual laughter.

Time’s face was neutral, but he was shaking slightly, like he was desperately trying to keep his amusement in. Four adopted a similar look for all of five seconds before joining Wild on the ground, the two laughing so hard the pups all paused in whatever they were doing and stared at them.

“Wind,” the smithy managed to choke out, pointing at the adult wolf in the corner, “That’s not Wolfie. And those aren’t... aren’t Wolfie’s- snrk-“

Twilight’s face only flushed harder as the two heroes on the ground continued to howl with laughter.

Wind blinked in disbelief at the revelation, apparently unaware of the pup chewing on his arm. He met eyes with Hyrule, who looked both embarrassed and a little smug.

“I told you Wolfie was a boy,” he whispered, and Wind elbowed him.

“Don’t pin this all on me, you believed it too!”

“Y-you mean to tell me,” Wild managed to get out, still breathless with laughter, “you just assumed the random wolf you found in the middle of the woods, with pups, was Wolfie?”

Wind huffed and crossed his arms while Hyrule scratched the back of his neck.

“It was more like she found us...” muttered the sailor.

“In our defense, neither of us have ever seen Wolfie before,” the traveler said weakly, ruffling one of the pups behind the ears. “We just went off what you told us the other night. You never explicitly said he wasn’t a girl.”

“And anyways, couldn’t he be the father?” Wind piped up.

Twilight put his head in his hands and Wild and Four just burst into laughter again, nearly crying with mirth.

“It was an honest mistake boys,” Time finally said, nudging Wild with a toe (Four had gotten ahold of himself but the champion was still on the ground). “And I seem to recall you having trouble differentiating between wolves a week or two ago as well champion.”

That shut Wild up.

“And while their markings are similar, I can guarantee you that Wolfie does not have any puppies,” Time continued, the corner of his mouth twitching as he placed a hand on Twilight’s shoulder, “or likely will anytime too soon.”

The rancher only let out a small groan.

“All right all right, we should get going,” Warriors said, amused at the events that had occurred but missing the real joke, “we need to find a good spot to camp for the night.”

Wind and Hyrule both drooped, but did as the captain said and reluctantly got to their feet, picking the pups up off their laps and settling them back by their mother.

“Bye Wolfie Junior, bye King, bye Secret, bye Fluffy-the-Destroyer-of-all-Centipedes, bye Tetra, bye not-actually-Wolfie,” Wind said sadly, giving them all a pat on the head and giving not-Wolfie an extra scratch.

“Wait, what was that middle one?” Legend asked with a confused look.

“Oh Secret? Hyrule named that one.”

“...not the one I meant.”

Hyrule said his goodbyes as well, giving not-Wolfie an extra grateful pet (and laughing as she licked his face), and with sad waves from him and the sailor, they all got on their way, walking back into the woods yet again.

All but Twilight, who casually hung back under the pretense of getting ahold of himself.

He waited until the others were a fair distance away, then turned tail and booked it back to the den, nearly diving in and letting the cubs dog pile him.

He likely would’ve stayed there forever if Wind hadn’t come back and dragged him away.

[thelostcityofsugarteara]

hello again!! I really liked what you wrote for my baker s/o request! can I request a pure vanilla x gn!reader who is a part of the cod (cookies of darkness)? pure vanilla is aware that the reader is part of cod but he doesn't mind cause he knows that the reader won't harm him. maybe the reader sneaking out just to meet him in the forest and maybe quit being part of the cod and start a new life with him? sorry if you don't take multiple requests from the same person, and thanks if you did this request!

ofc i take requests from the same person !! :D i hope you enjoy <3

pure vanilla with a cod s/o !

contains spoilers for stage 8-30 and onwards & the tower of sweet chaos story

you were one of the original members of the cod.

you had been friends with pure vanilla & white lily (before she was rebaked into dark enchantress).

after the final battle, dark enchantress approached you & asked you to join her, and you did.

although you were her first follower, you weren’t the most loyal.

when pure vanilla cookie revealed himself to you & everyone else in the floating castle, you immediately remembered him (and how attractive he was).

and he remembered you too, and remarked in his head that you had become even more good-looking from the last time you had seen eachother.

he was disappointed in what you had become, but quickly put the thought aside.

after dark enchantress’ defeat, your team & you decided that the crimson badlands was too far to walk to while dark enchantress was injured.

so you all set up camp in a forest, about a mile from the castle.

soon, you bumped into your former friend, pure vanilla himself.

the two of you got chatting & quickly reformed the old friendship.

he asked you about why you joined the darkness & you responded slowly with your reasoning.

after that, he took a pause & then asked would there be any chance that you could leave the darkness.

you thought about it, and then told him that it would be possible, but would most likely be a lengthy process.

you two continued your talking for about half an hour, then said your goodbyes & headed back to your bases.

early in the morning it was only you & your master awake.

you approached her & took a deep breath then asked her if you could stay in the vanilla kingdom as a spy (wink wink, you aren’t)

to your surprise, she agreed saying that it would be good to have someone undercover in the kingdom.

so, soon after, you walked to the castle & told pure vanilla, black raisin & her village-mates & gingerbrave and his friends the whole story & that you wanted to turn to the good side now.

everyone was highly accepting but black raisin. she had her doubts, but kept her mouth closed.

you & pure vanilla caught up in his white lily garden, where he asked you out. you quickly accepted gave him a kiss on the lips.

hii !! i hope you’re happy with this !! <3 i’m sorry about the slight delay :(

[biggest-stupidhead]

hello love! can i request erwin x fem reader smut where they're quite the opposite, and after a mission they're tired and just fuck (maybe in the woods or something) because they're so stressed but also because they've been wanting to do it long before? like everyone feels the tension between them except they don't wanted to admit it? thanks! i love your blog. 🥺✨

Hey babes, of course! Thanks for sending this one in, I love writing for Levi but I need to switch it up sometimes lol. 

Warnings: lowkey hatefucking, intercourse obvi,  fucking in da woods, wrap it before u tap it!, unprotected sex. 

Summary: Erwin is selfish, but it’s okay because you are too. 

Word Count: 2.4K 

__

Your breathing was uneven as you hunched over, chest rising erratically. Your blades were dull and gas was running low, you tapped on the cans ruefully, the dull din signaling how empty the canisters truly were. You were just starting to regain your senses when the sound of hoofbeats startled you. Hange tugged the reins of her horse, the beast turned its head and bared its teeth when she pulled so harshly on the bit. 

“Excellent work! That was a clean cut.” Hange complimented as she smiled wryly down at you. You nodded and lifted your fingers to your lips and whistled for your own mount. 

“Thanks, it was a big one too. I’ll have to find the supply wagons though, gas is almost gone.” You said as you tossed the dulled blades off to the side and slide the handles of the gear back into the scabbards. 

“Ah you’ll have to work on that.” Hange said, her head swiveling to keep watch while you waited for your horse to return. A few moments passed before the sound of your horse trampling through the foliage alerted of its return. You caught it by the reins and threw yourself onto its back.  

“Let’s return to the formation then.” Hange said, once again roughly jerking her horse into the right direction, you close on her heels. The two of you rode through the trees at break neck speed, trying to make up for lost time. You finally managed to make out the sight of Erwin and Levi, their own steeds galloping back in the direction of the wall. 

“What’s going on!? I haven’t caught my titan yet!” Hange wailed when you reunited with the other pair. 

“Too many casualties.” Levi quipped, expression sour and hands bloodied. You rolled your eyes and clutched the reins harder. 

“We just need a few more minutes, let’s not call it off yet.” You insisted and Hange exclaimed excitedly at the shared sentiment. 

“Won’t be possible, we can’t risk loosing more lives. There’s been enough bloodshed for one day.” Erwin’s voice was tense and his blue eyes were icy as he shot you and Hange down. 

“I don’t see why it matters, if we already have lost most of our men...why not push onwards?” You weren’t sure if you really felt that way, or if you were looking for a fight. You were well aware of how Levi felt about losing his men, and how little Erwin truly cared about loosing lives. You knew that was what separated the two of them, Erwin only cared for his own selfish goals, although he hid it well. Levi on the other hand truly cared for the soldiers, and wanted victory for humanity. 

“Shut your filthy fucking mouth.” Levi hissed, gunmetal eyes dark and jaw tense as he bit back his words, waiting for Erwin to tell you off. 

“We simply don’t have the means at this time.” Erwin said simply, eyes trained forward. You glowered at him, you couldn’t deny that you held some malice towards him, for his seeming lack of empathy towards his men. But could you blame him? You had joined the scouts for your own selfish desires as well, he just had the power to ensure that his desires were acted upon. 

“Very well.” You growled, leaning into your horse’s neck as the four of you picked up the pace. Erwin lifted a flare gun and fired the signal into the air for retreat. 

__

The march into the gates and through Shiganshina was brutal as always. The citizens murmured of their wasted tax dollars and the waste of human life. You silently agreed with them, glaring at the back of Erwin’s perfect blonde head. You wanted nothing more than to scream at him, maybe even slap him, then you’d fuck- wait no. Not that last part, you shook your head in an attempt to rid the vulgar thoughts from your mind. 

The castle was notably vacant when you arrived. Having lost so many men, the grounds were less busy than usual. You wandered around, having already put your horse away and assisted with the unloading of the excess supplies. You were grateful for the summer breeze, the last rays of light poking through the trees. You wandered off towards the thicket of trees that rested between the castle and the mountain range beyond. 

The sounds of the forest seeped into your bones and reminded you of your home, your family, why you had originally agreed to this regiment. You were so caught up in your own thoughts, you almost didn’t hear the twig snapping off to your right. You whipped your head towards the noise, catching the flash of blonde hair and a stark white dress shirt. 

“Following me?” You growled, turning to face him fully, Erwin’s cold blue eyes shone in the dim light. 

“To an extent.” He shrugged nonchalantly and you bristled at the admission. 

“Come to ravage me?” You pushed, wanting a reaction from the usually stoic man. 

“Not exactly.” 

“Then what? You men are simple creatures after all, only so many motives behind your dull eyes.” You bit, unable to keep the frustrations from your tone. Erwin’s thick brows pinched together at your words. 

“I came to tell you that....I want you to be a squad leader.” Erwin’s jaw ticked as he waited for your response. You let out a scoff of disbelief, eyes shining with mirth. 

“Why? Because I showed a fraction of the coldness that you display?” You hissed, marching across the small amount of space between you and attempted to get in his face. Although it was difficult seeing as how tall he stood. 

“Precisely.” Erwin’s voice was a bit airy, eyes now seeming to shine with something besides the cunning that usually resided in them. You narrowed your own eyes and let loose a growl fisting the front of his shirt as you considered your options. 

If you accepted the position, you would be no better than him. But then again were you really any better in the first place? 

“I’ll do it.” You released him and took a step back, determination gleaming in your eyes. 

“I knew that you would.” He smirked, lips curling into an annoying grin, making your stomach flip. 

“Could this not have waited until morning?” You asked, eyes drifting to the last glimmers of sunlight that spotted the forest floor. 

“I suppose it could have...but I wanted to see you before then.” You wrinkled your nose in disgust, earlier suspicions proving true. 

“Oh really?” You huffed with a dramatic roll of your eyes. Erwin’s expression darkened, and he took. a step forward, invading your space. You stood as tall as you possibly could, not wanting to let on how nervous you really felt in his suffocating presence. 

“I wanted to ask you...why you are so bent on challenging my authority.” It wasn’t a question, more of a statement, putting you on the ropes. You glowered at him, his chest bumping yours, prompting you to take a few healthy steps back. Which you did, until your back met the rough bark of an oak tree. 

“Why should I listen to someone who holds no regard to human life?” You snarled in response, but it felt more like a yelp, your heartbeat picked up as his hand gripped the tree, trapping you between his towering figure and the large tree. 

“I can’t help but wonder if it could have something to do with the way you stare at me….” His breath tickled your face as he craned his head down, your cheeks lit up as you blushed. 

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You denied, although it was true, you had developed a bad habit of seeking out his form in the dining hall. Watching him too closely during meetings. He was attractive, that was an undeniable fact, but the resentment that you held for him had always prevented you from seeking out anything more than the professional relationship that had been established. 

“I know you do, I’ll only offer this once and never again. I’ve had this on my mind for a while now, if you aren’t interested then we can pretend that this never happened.” He paused, gauging your reaction as you looked up at him in shock. 

“I want to fuck you. Right here.” He pointed his finger towards the ground and his eyes flashed with an animosity you’d never seen before. 

“H-Here?” You stammered, unsure of what to think, but the ache between your thighs was quickly overcoming your senses. 

“Yes.” His other hand slid up your side and rested over the strap of your gear over your breasts. 

“What will it be then squad leader?” He hummed as he toyed with the buckle. You swallowed thickly but managed to nod curtly, not wanting to verbally admit your attraction to your commander. 

“Use your words.” He ordered, tugging harshly on the strap, pulling you flush against his chest. You gasped, head tilting up to meet his cold gaze. 

“I….want you to fuck me commander.” You grew more confident with each word, and you could see the pleased smirk curling over Erwin’s features. 

“Glad we finally agree on something.” He huffed, fingers easily unbuckling the strap and then deftly unbuttoning your blouse. As he did so he walked you back against the tree, he left your shirt on, instead favoring unbuttoning your trousers. You gripped his jacket as he slid his hand down to cup your pussy. He chuckled at how wet you were, his large fingers gathering your slickness before slipping into you. You let out another gasp and pushed his jacket off of his shoulders, he withdrew from you to help you undress him as well. You only got to undo his pants before he pressed his lips to yours, tongue pushing past your lips.  

He leaned down and scooped you up, hands supporting the backs of your thighs as he used the tree to keep you steady. Your head hit the tree roughly as he continued to attack your mouth, you could do nothing but open your mouth to meet his lips. He slid one of his hands up and gripped the waistband of your pants, pulling them just below your knees, it was a bit of a struggle due to the position he had you in. But you got there eventually. The air felt cool against your exposed sex, and you found yourself blushing crimson as he pressed you harder into the tree so that he could free his cock. You bit your lip in anticipation as he finally managed to pull himself free of his pants. 

He pulled away from your lips, eyes lidded and clearly focused on lining himself up to your entrance. You hissed when the head of his cock slid effortlessly along the length of your pussy. Finally he pressed the tip inside of you, pausing as he shifted to grip both of your thighs and gain better leverage. 

“Erwin please.” You whimpered, rocking your hips in an attempt to get him to fully sheath himself. 

“Beg for it.” He hissed, breath hot against the shell of your ear before his tongue darted out and licked a stripe up the side of your neck. 

“I-I need you so bad, please I need you to fuck me.” Your hands clawed at his shoulders as you used your core to keep yourself upright and legs spread for him. 

“Good girl.” He growled, finally snapping his hips and sheathing himself in one thrust. You groaned at the fullness, walls stretching to accommodate his size. His own breathing seemed to grow more erratic as he began to rock his hips back and forth. Your back burned from the friction of rubbing against the tree behind you. There was no doubt about you having some kind of scratch in the morning. 

You threw your head back against the trunk of the tree as he picked up the speed, hands roaming up from your thighs to your ass, you clenched your legs to wrap around his waist. Your muscles burned but the coil that was building in your stomach kept you motivated, wanting nothing more than to cum over his cock. 

He grunted as you twitched around him, his hips somehow seemed to gain more speed, nose burying between the space between your neck and shoulder. You felt him leave a wet kiss there before sucking harshly on the skin. You tilted your head in the opposite direction, giving him more room as he lapped his tongue along the newly exposed skin. 

“E-Erwin I think that-” 

“Wait.” He snarled against your throat, biting it a bit roughly, you moaned wantonly at the action and dug your heels into the small of his back. His cock stroked along the rigid spot inside of you and you nearly screamed, barely containing your orgasm as he had asked you to. He struck that spot relentlessly, hips meeting yours harshly as he pounded into you. 

“Just like that.” He groaned as he pushed you flat against the tree, using all of his strength to keep you there as he drove into you. 

“Please Erwin let me cum.” You sobbed as he bit your collarbone, his dick twitched inside of you at your plea, he pulled back, icy eyes locked on your wrecked face as tears rolled down your cheeks. 

“Only since you’ve been such a good girl.” He growled, and reached down between your legs, you tightened your grip on his shoulders to make up for the lost support as he pressed his calloused finger to your throbbing clit and rubbed tight circles. Your legs twitched as you felt the coil snap and your cunt clamped down around his dick. He hissed at the sudden tightness and groaned as he came as well. You felt the warmth trickle out of you as he pulled away. He held you up as you shook, coming down from the high he had given you. 

“See what we can do when we work together?” He chuckled darkly, hand toying with your bra as you clung to his neck. 

“Keep dreaming eyebrows.” You huffed, pulling away from him and shakily pulling your pants up. He tucked himself back into his pants and picked up his jacket from the forest floor. 

“See me in my office tomorrow and we will discuss your promotion.” He called after you as you marched back towards HQ, cheeks burning from the interaction you’d just had with your commander. You threw your hand up dismissively, trying to ignore the dark chuckle he let out when he saw how flustered you were. 

Maybe he wasn’t all that bad after all….

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

heeey! so back when @eirianerisdar posted chapter 12 of their fic the ransom of the house of fëanor - that’s the one where they finally let the brothers hellspawn and their idiot dad out of the void, but they have to throw elrond in, all very sad - i thought up my own somewhat fluffier vastly dumber au for the end of that chapter. in honour of the fic being finished, i’ve decided to write up the various scattershot ideas i’ve had for it, with the caveat that i’ll be working off my own slightly different background headcanons

the divergence point is roughly when elrond announces that he’s totally going into the void now, for realsies, the local ainur are nodding solemnly, and the fëanorians are running preliminary can-we-take-them calculations. except for maedhros, who’s very sad to hear that they must sacrifice his nephew to the eternal dark for their freedom, ‘tis truly a shame, they will honour his memory and GET THE BOAT, BOYS

or, the original elf mad scientist, his murderous blood-hungry spawn, a guy who’s extremely grouchy about not getting to do his dramatic self-sacrifice, and their somewhat-less-reluctant-than-he-should-be getaway driver go on the lam

how they got away from the valar:

námo: already knew this was going to happen, but it’s not like anyone ever listens to him, is it? in the moment, was a little more concerned with how morgoth had started belly-crawling towards the doors of night

manwë: never wanted to throw elrond into the void in the first place, and has been silently hoping elrond would call his bluff for the past week. the children are all safe and inside like they should be, and isn’t that what really matters?

eönwë: no it isn’t boss the fëanorians are a completely unpredictable wildcard we cannot afford to let them run around unsupervised!!! would probably have at least delayed the family hellspawn until backup could arrive, except

olórin: realised what maedhros was planning almost immediately and had to consciously force down a shit-eating grin. as soon as the brothers started moving, divetackled eönwë

-

[from a note attached to a harpoon lodged outside the highest window on the white tower of the isle of seabirds]

elwing - it went better than i expected, honestly. the sons of fëanor took about as much offense to elrond’s plan as everyone else has, except when words didn’t work they resorted to action. they dragged him onto vingilot and i followed them, and then we cast off together. we’ve set sail for as far away from the doors of night as we can get. i’m coming with them, of course, i’m not letting these lunatics crash my baby

i’m not entirely certain when we’ll be back? the fëanorians seem worried the valar might come after us, which wouldn’t surprise me, really. i’m taking us out towards middle-earth, we’ll see where we go after that. they’re all screaming at each other and running across the deck, i’m not convinced they have much of a plan. elrond is yelling too, he’s arguing with either caranthir or curufin, can’t tell which. the one i suspect is maglor has wrapped himself around his neck and refuses to let go. our son is alive and healthy and not in the eternal darkness, and for that, at least, i am grateful

the redhead who’s co-opted the harpoons says we’re coming up on your tower. no one’s done anything to threaten me or elrond, or even looked at the silmaril. there’s something nice about sailing with a crew again, no matter who it is. i love you, and i’ll be back as soon as i can - eärendil

[from a note attached to a harpoon found among the ruins of a house in the tirion stonecarvers’ district]

you were right, nerdanel. you were right about everything, and i was wrong. i’m sorry. the boys and i are going on another adventure right now, but we’ll come back to you someday, i promise

[from the same note, in much neater handwriting]

tell tyelpë i love him, and also that the coordinates are [rest torn off]

-

the first sign of this mess that reaches arda is the morning and evening star disappearing from the sky. gondorian astronomers, haradren scholars, avarin priests all stare flummoxed as the star of high hope simply fails to appear before the sun. no matter how unsuperstitous they are everyone agrees this is a really bad omen, and all across the globe the high halls of power tremble in fear over the new horror this must portend

the first sign of this mess that reaches the shire (except for that one took who’s really into astrology) is when eight-year-old elanor gardner rushes into bag end the next day, all ‘dad! dad! there are elves in the woods!’

sam is pretty chuffed to hear this. the fair folk don’t pass through the shire half as often as they used to, and it’s been some years since he heard their song. if they’re in the neighbourhood, why, it’d only be polite to say hello, wish them luck on their journey, hand them a letter. he packs up a nice tuck-box full of goodies to share, and then sam and elanor (and frodo, who’s going through a following-his-big-sister-around-and-copying-everything-she-does phase) set out to meet the elves

first they hear the shouting. then they see the smoke

at the end of the path his daughter leads him down, sam finds the wreckage of what looks like a crashed boat strewn across the forest, still faintly smouldering. at least a dozen elves are rushing between and up the trees, yelling at each other in the angriest quenya he’s ever heard. in the middle of the impact crater stands a blonde elf carrying a stone that shines like the phial of galadriel, wailing something sam knows just enough sindarin to recognise as ‘MY SHIIIIIIIIIP’

as sam’s gaze pans over the unfolding catastrophe, his eyes land on one of the last elves he’d expected to see, master elrond. elrond is rubbing his temple, groaning like someone who knows he’s the most responsible person around and really wishes he wasn’t. a vaguely familiar sketchy-as-fuck elf is clinging onto his shoulders, in a not-dissimilar way to how frodo-lad is currently riding on sam. elrond catches sam’s gaze

‘greetings, master samwise,’ says the wisest elf-lord of the west, ignoring the scuffle that’s breaking out behind him. ‘i must apologise for my relations’

(fëanor and elanor become fast friends, teaching each other their languages and exploring the shire together. absolutely no one else is okay with this)

-

fëanor, dragging an incredibly-put-upon elrond around the citadel of minas tirith: grandbabies!

fëanor, marvelling over the embroidery arwen is showing him: great-grandbabies!

fëanor, carrying a tiny giggling eldarion all the way up the tower of gondor: great-great-grandbabies!

fëanor, staring fixedly at an increasingly apprehensive aragorn: great-great-great...

celegorm, on dad-watching duty: actually if you lay the maths out it’s very likely every human in middle-earth is descended... from... elros... fuck

fëanor: has gone completely still

fëanor: massive grin spreading across his face, eyes sparkling like the two trees brought back to life

fëanor: eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

[darling-cas]

Hoax (an original story)

I amaze myself sometimes. 

My therapist says I need to go back to things that bring me joy, says I need to find happiest in life again. During one specific session, I was asked to name a time when I was truly at peace, a time I felt moments of pure joy outside of my partner and friends. The first thing that came to mind was a time years ago, when I would post stories here, on this website, for you all to see.

This surprised me honestly, because if you knew me personally (*cough* hi @ilikebigbooks-and-icannotlie *cough*) you would know the amount of stress and pressure I put myself under when it came to writing We Are Young, Whatever It Takes, etc, etc, etc. But despite all the negative emotions, the moments that always stand out to me is sitting on my laptop after I clicked post, watching all the love and adoration pure in from each and every one of you.

I say this monthly but, I really do want to get back into writing. Thanks to my therapist and business major partner, I’ve been dipping my toes into editing for others as a side job. But I want to make my way back to writing my own stories and sharing them with even the smallest corner of the world. This story, Hoax, I wrote actually one year ago, when I first started therapy and after a hard heartbreak. It helped me feel like myself again and lifted me out of the darkness.

I hope, for even the smallest number of you, it does the same. I hope you can feel the same magic that I felt when I wrote it. Take this as a thank you for, years ago, bringing me such joy and happiness.

Until next time...

Cas.

--------------------

The air was midsummer sweet.

It was an Indian summer of blue sky dreams and late evening tears, with the weather shifting moods in the blink of an eye. Grey clouds would eclipse the setting sun with their mighty fists, soaking up the colour of the earth like ink drenching a cotton ball.

And with the continuous alternating weather came the busty smell of sunblock and wet grass. Summer scents combined with the salty air and pungent fish that cling to Jake’s senses from the moment he started his journey along the coastal towns.

His mountain travels started just mere days ago. The task of hiking the grand peak was something he was finally going to cross off his bucket list. Dipping into his savings and requesting a week or two off work was a small price to pay when it came to the tranquility and beauty laid bare before him.

Born and raised on the outskirts of the city, there hadn't been much nature for him to appreciate and admire growing up. But from the moment Jake entered the first small, close-knit fishing town, all he could seem to do was appreciate and stare in outright awe.

The land laid undisturbed all around; the mountains, the trees, the ocean, they had all planted their roots, dug in their heels, and refused to surrender. Cities had been conquered, the vast expansion of country fields and towering summits were placed in chains, forced to give themselves to man. But here, on the coast of fishing villages, it seems as if Land and Man came to an agreement, a compromise, an understanding, to live in peace as one. 

Roads of all kinds swerved, twisted, curled up and down along the coast, between the trees. Houses of unnaturally charming bright blues, yellows, oranges, and greens sat gracefully against the mountain rocks, climbing up the forest-speckled cliffs. Homes and buildings of sea-weathered colour rested on the broken shoreline. Boats bobbed in the water, their docks reaching out towards the horizon like fingers longing to reach and touch a disappearing lover.

In the coastal towns, driving along the sunset stained ocean, Jake swore he would never see true beauty again.

Even now, when the sky wept tears of sorrow, its beauty never vanished.

The weather came on suddenly, as he passed the welcoming sign for Higdon's Harbour. The roads became slick, a  ghostly fog settled in, and the colours were muted a few shades darker by the clouds above. Rivers trickled down the mountain side, disappearing into shallow ditches. Waves started to leap and jump to catch the increasing wind. All while the sky cried on and on.

Jake drove on through the town. Classic rock thumped softly in the background and raindrops tapped on the roof of the car. He had planned not to stop for the night until the next town over. He had driven through several rain storms since the start of his trip, and this was nothing.

But the cracks in the sky's broken heart continued to grow with exceptional pain. Tears of despair quickly turned to tears of anger. The beating on the car became more aggressive as the wind wailed daunting threats and the ocean frantically waved its arms.

It became too much, too quick. Jake was used to driving through bad weather, but not seaside storms. Not gusting winds and sideways rain. Plus, he decided, he was already making good time. So when the flashing green neon sign reading Beaumont Motel came into view, he didn’t hesitate to pull off the road, into the parking lot, and turn off his car.

A bell jingled above as Jake pushed open the door. He stepped into the warmth of the lobby, drenched through his clothes and soaking the carpet under his feet.

“Turned nasty out there real quick, didn’t it?”

Jake threw off his hood, shaking out his damp, blonde hair as he caught sight of an older woman with long grey hair smiling at him from behind a wooden desk.

She pulled her beige cardigan closer around her, brown eyes crinkling in the corners. “Looking for a room, hun?”

“If you happen to have one available,” Jake replied, walking towards the desk and setting down his backpack. Judging by the lack of cars in the parking lot, he was more than confident there were plenty of empty rooms. Still, he glanced at the woman’s name tag and flashed her a smile. “Vera.”

“Oh, hun,” Vera chuckled. Her fingers tapped away on the computer that looked too new to be in the small, tacky, lobby with flower-patterned wallpaper. A lobby that was decorated with simply a small sitting area off to the side, a dusty fireplace warming the room, a dark wooden desk, rouge carpet, and outdated lighting fixtures. “I think I have one or two available. For how long will we be seeing your handsome face around?”

“Only a night,” Jake said. “I’m just passing through.”

“Storm pushed you off the road, huh?” Vera turned around and grabbed a key off one of the hooks on the wall. “It should only last the night. Nightly storms are common for us during this time of year. Here you go, hun.”

“Thank you!” Jake took the key before picking up his bag once more, throwing it over his shoulder.

“If you’re looking to warm up a bit, Kay & Elle, the pub next door, is open for a few more hours,” Vera informed him, fixing her wool cardigan on her shoulders. “A lot of the locals inhabit the place, but we’re friendly folks here. I’m sure they’ll keep you entertained for a bit.”

“Thank you for the suggestion!” Jake pulled his hood back over his head. “Have a good night, Vera.”

She waved him off with a dazzling smile. “Enjoy your short time at Higdon’s Harbour.”

Rain beat down around Jake as the lobby door closed behind him. The sticky air promised an onslaught of thunder and lightning, but it had yet to develop. With a glance at the metal key in his hand, Jake made out a marked 9 engraved at the top. His toes were cold as he quickly made it to the door and inserted the key before pushing the door open and stepping into the musty smelling room.

It was just as drab as the lobby. The double-bed was dressed in off-white coverings. Cream walls, dark carpet, and tacky seaside pictures. Along with two side tables by the bed, a small TV on top of a mini fridge, and a bathroom door on the far wall.

It wasn’t the nicest looking room he’d ever stayed in, but he would also be lying if he said he hadn’t stayed in worse before. 

With a tired and uncomfortable sigh, Jake tossed his bag onto the bed, peeled off his wet coat, and padded off into the bathroom.

He never really thought of going to the pub Vera had mentioned. His only plans that evening consisted of taking a scalding shower before crawling into bed. Maybe watching some TV or reading the book at the bottom of his bag to spice up the night.

Yet, once the two former items on his agenda were checked off, an uneasiness fell over him. Neither the TV nor his book could hold his attention. The bedsheets itched his legs. His heart thumped in his chest, just fast enough to be noticeable. He couldn’t sit still.

Lightning flashed outside and Jake’s head whipped in the direction of the window. The pub came into view; the two porch lights twinkled in the dark and laughter sounded in time to the pounding storm. It shimmered in the lightning’s afterglow, the rain creating a silver mist of magic around the stone building.

Jake tossed off the sheets and threw on some clothes and his damp jacket. The pull in the pit of his stomach pushed him towards the front door without Jake even really realizing what he was doing. But he chalked it up to boredom and the anxiety of being knocked off his schedule.

He left the warmth of his room behind, almost crashing into a figure as he gently closed his door. An apology was on the tip of his tip tongue when a feeling of nausea washed over him. He felt dizzy, stomach turning. But it was gone between one blink and the next, along with the person. Jake got a glimpse of red hair out of the corner of his eye followed by bells and laughter as the door to room 8 snapped closed. 

The thunderous weather started to overload Jake's senses and the urge to get to the pub was greater. With his head down, the figure fading from his memory, Jake made his way across the parking lot.

A drink or two would kill some time, he thought to himself. At least it would help settle the uneasiness and put him to sleep.

The mist around the pub seemed to glow as Jake drew closer, but he was too busy keeping the rain out of his eyes to pay much mind to it. Warmth shot up his arm as he pushed the door open, a jingle filling the room.

The smell of liquor and smoke tainted with the slight scent of sweat greeted Jake as he stepped over the threshold of Kay & Elle. The low rumble of a banjo filled the space, bouncing off the wooden rafters, mixing with the low mumbles and chuckles of the clusters of people scattered around the room. It wasn’t a full house, but crowded enough given the storm outside.

With his footsteps sounding off the wood floors, Jake made his way to the dark-oak bar. He received a few stares and nods of acknowledgment as he walked by men and women alike, sitting at tables and standing by pool tables. As he walked past, he took in the stone walls, the empty stage in the back, the shimmering yellow lights, and the photos of fishermen, smiling ladies, and vast landscapes littered throughout the walls. 

He took off his jacket, his heart having settled from the moment he entered the pub. Jake wasn’t a man who believed in faith, but in his bones, deep in his marrow, he knew this was where he was meant to be, for whatever reason.

“Well ain’t you a fresh face,” the elder man behind the bar remarked as Jake sat in one of the barstools, just a few seats down from a hunched over figure nursing a glass of whiskey.

Jake placed his wet jaket on the chair beside him as he chuckled. “Hard to be a stranger in this town.”

“Small-town life, my boy. Everyone knows everyone.” The man threw a towel over his shoulder, his dark hair pulled back in a low pony-tail, causing the wrinkles on his slim, tan face to be on full display. His green eyes sparkled in welcome and his smile pulled at the faded scar on his left cheek. “Passing through?”

The dim lights jumped and danced off the many bottles lining the wall behind the bar. A muted glow hugged the bar, the music changing to the beat of a fiddle.

“I am, but the storm took me off the road for the night,” Jake explained.

“You staying at the Beaumont?”

Jake nodded. “The woman, Vera, recommended I stop by for a drink.” 

The words tasted bitter, full of half-truths and false tales. But Jake wasn’t sure why, just as he wasn’t sure how to explain his need to be sitting in the pub at that particular moment.

“That woman,” the elder man chuckled with a shake of his head. “She sends more business this way than any billboard ad ever could. Well, have a drink while you’re here…"

“Jake.”

The music skipped a beat as the fiddle played a harsh note. The air turned bitter and cold. Jake’s limbs urged him to run, screamed that he made a mistake, scolded him for giving his name so willingly. But it was a reflex; the word leaving his lips before he understood what was happening. An impulse came over him, the same one that pulled him to obey the man's demand and order a drink.

No one seemed to notice the odd behaviour, aside from the hunched over figure a few seats down. His depthless brown eyes flashed to Jake, grey hair falling across his pale, sweaty forehead. There was a look of pain and madness in those eyes. Jake opened his mouth to say something when a draft of beer appeared in front of him. And suddenly he couldn’t remember why his limbs felt tense or why there was a cold sweat on the back on his neck.

“Nice to meet ya, Jake,” the bartender smiled with a gleam in his bottle-green eyes. “Name’s Murphy.” 

“Likewise,” Jake raised his drink before bringing the glass to his lips, downing half of it in a few gulps.

The hunched man tipped back the last of his whiskey, slamming the glass hard on the bartop.

“Murphy,” he spoke in a husky voice, like the sound of asphalt and gravel.

A flash of irritation, with just a hint of sadness, came over Murphy's face. He didn’t say a word as he quickly prepared another glass, sliding it gently in front of the stranger.

“Take it easy, Harold. That’s your third now.”

Harold grunted, shooting back half the glass without a word.

Murphy sighed, every other emotion but worry washing from his face for the smallest moment, before he turned back to Jake with a smile on his lips.

“So, where were you headed before the rain knocked you off track?”

After another smaller sip of beer, Jake explained his mountain travel plans and his desire to reach the great peak that waited for him at the end.

“Good on ya. Do it all now while you’re still young and can move about,” Murphy said with a chuckle. “This a solo trip? Or are you with someone special? Perhaps they’re waiting for you back in your room?”

“No,” Jake chuckled, ignoring the grunt of clear annoyance from the man a few seats down from him. “Just me.”

A glimmer appeared in the old man's eye. “So no one speical then? No sweetheart waiting for ya?”

Glass rattled as Harold slammed his empty drink back down on the bar.

Jake cast a sideways glance at the stranger. Restlessness rushed through him as he slowly sat up straighter. Tension gripped his limbs as Harold turned to look at him. Those unnaturally dark eyes shined with intensity. They held so much knowledge, so much pain, so much fury that Jake couldn’t look away. 

“Don’t waste your time with such things, boy,” Harold grumbled, voice rough and firm. His brows were pulled together so tight they were touching, as the bar cast his face in shadows of back and grey. “Love is pointless.”

He said the word love with such hatred, Jake felt as if the stone structure surrounding them would cave in and collapse. 

Murphy, for his part, looked just as on edge. It was a fact that did little to calm Jake's sudden nervousness. 

“Harold,” he sighed. “Let’s take a moment-”

“There is one thing that is certain when it comes to love,” Harold continued, eyes gazing unblinkingly at Jake. “It is nothing but pain. Love is made up of pain and heartbreak and bitter ends. It is a useless and pointless part of the whole damn human existence.”

A hush fell over the bar, as if even the other guests could sense the mood Harold had brought about. The upbeat tone of the fiddle suddenly switched to a soulless wail. . A shiver ran up Jake’s spine and he begged his body to turn away, to dismiss the man and be done with it. But he couldn’t. His unmerciful gaze pulled him in and suddenly Jake was drowning in the scent of liquor and smoke and dead leaves and depthless seas. 

“You fight so hard." Harold gripped his glass, and a crack started to appear. “You fight with all you have and give yourself completely and it's no good. It doesn’t matter. Nothing you do is good enough. Love is about fighting a losing battle and in the end, only one person suffers the consequences. And it's usually the one who fought the hardest.”

“Harold.”

Murphy’s voice was firm, loud, booming over the music as Jake jumped back in his seat. He didn’t realize how intently he’d been listening to Harold. How he was hanging on to every word like it was air. Or how, while talking to the terrifying man, for the first time since entering the town, Higdon’s Harbour glowed with colour.

An angry, remorseless, pulsating red colour.

Harold held Jake's gaze for a moment longer, intense eyes cast in complete shadow, before turning back to the bar.

“Thanks for the advice,” Jake found himself saying, voice shaking more than he'd like to admit. He didn’t mean to speak, the words simply rushed out of him with an aftertaste of smoke. 

Clearing his throat, Jake downed the last of his beer before pushing the glass towards Murphy for a refill.

A hush fell around them for just a few moments, the tension already starting to subside. Jake felt his shoulders drop as he slowly sipped his beer and Murphy slid Harold a glass of water. After some small talk with the old bartender, Jake felt himself able to breathe once more. His body started to relax, the fog lifting from his head. He was breaking the surface and forgetting all about the darkness of the ocean and the murdered limbs of the trees on the forest floor.

While on his third drink, Murphy started to get busy with the other parties of the bar. Tables started to ask for refills, and drenched couples walked through the door, the wind roaring behind them. He drifted more and more between the bar and the tables. And it was about that time that Jake decided he would soon be calling it a night.

“You shouldn’t have stopped, boy.”

Ice crawled up Jake’s spine at the sound of that sandpaper voice. Murphy was off to some seemingly remote corner of the bar. Jake couldn’t help but notice that every new body who walked in stayed far away from the bar, from him, and from Harold.

Jake gripped the tall draft in his hand, foam and condensation running through his numb fingers. 

He turned to face Harold, those black soulless eyes dragging him into the abyss. He was in a freefall, too much rushed through him all at once. A thumping started at his left temple and his heart dropped to his stomach as he fell and fell and fell from the bowels of the sky through the open arms of the corpse-like trees.

“You shouldn’t have stopped,” Harold spat, teeth clenched and head hung low. “You should get out of this cursed town before they get you too. They know you’re here. They knew you’d be here before you knew you’d be here. They got to the rest of this damned town. They got her. Get out before they get you too, boy.”

Fear rooted Jake in place. Fear for what, he couldn’t tell. But in the back of his mind, in the depth of his soul, he knew Harold was right. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t have stopped. Yet, the thought of leaving caused his heart to clench and spots to form behind his eyes. Without his control, he found his lips forming the words - 

“Who are they?”

The lights flickered with the time of the thunder clashing outside. The fiddle faded out and the haunting strings of a violin floated through the room, accompanied by a soulful woman's wail.

He knew he shouldn’t have asked. He shouldn’t provoke this man. He should just pay his tab, get up, and leave. But it was unexplainable, much like the whole night had been. He simply couldn’t help himself.

Harold completely turned to Jake. The harsh lines on his face caught the glow of the dim lights. His eyes burned with unattainable wisdom and passion. Jake's heart started to race, limbs locking into place as he noticed the music slowed. Along with, somehow, every other body and soul in the bar. A haze filled the room, a mist blurring and engulfing everything that was not Jake and was not Harold. Even the storm seemed to hush, with only the woman's cry continuing on.

“Let me tell you a story, son.” Harold’s voice turned mystical, the words floating in the air between the two. “Cause I’ve lost my friends, my family, this whole damn town, and yet no one will believe me. They think I’m a nut-case, a man full of grief. But I ain’t, you hear? And maybe you’ll believe me. Maybe you won’t. But they took my wife-”

“Your wife is missing?”

Jake’s pulse jumped as Harold leaned in close, his blood-shot eyes burning crimson red. “For years now. Cause they took her.”

“They?” Jake repeated, feeling physically ill.

Harold nodded. “The fairies.”

He should have laughed. He should have backed off. His mind should have been yelling at him that the man was senile, crazy, insane. He should have bid him goodbye, called over Murphy, and been done with this place, this man. This man who was staring at him with all the earnestness in the world.

Fairies.

The word danced around in his head, bells and whistles suddenly joining in with the escalating violin. Suddenly, the whole town made all the sense in the world and yet, none at all.

“Fairies?” Jake spoke slow and steady. “They’re just folklore. A myth.”

Even as he said it, the words turned to dust on his tongue. He wanted to wash the taste out with his beer, but found he genuinely couldn’t move. 

“The Harbour Fairies,” Harold whispered. “Nasty creatures. And if you believe they’re just a myth, you’re as foolish as the rest of them. If you believe there isn’t more to this world, that we’re the only beings here, you’re blin. These aren’t just some little buggers who pick your berries and sprinkle dust. They are savage, mischievous demons.”

Jake started to shake his head, mostly to clear the fog that had started to form. “I don’t-”

“We here grew up wearing our clothes inside out and carrying bread in our pockets to stop the little people from leading us astray,” Harold spoke with more urgency than Jake had heard all night, “But little good it did. Everyone was blinded by what was right in front of them. These creatures play tricks. Oh, they love tricks. And not the fun kind. No, the kind that leads you over a cliff or dead at the bottom of the sea. They are unpredictable forces of nature who lead you in the woods, and suddenly you're never heard of again.”

“And they got your wife.”

“They stole her,” Harold spat the words into the air. His gaze flicked towards the red-head who walked past them, beer in hand, before he spoke again. “They took her from me. Everyone here believes she ran away, but I know. I caught them you see, I saw it with my own two eyes. One day she was in the garden, the next…”

… she walked into the woods, never to be seen again. Jake knew because he saw it himself. He watched it play out in Harold’s aged eyes. And suddenly he was inserted into a story that was not his. He didn’t feel right; too tight in his skin, eyes unable to properly focus on the greys, blacks, and whites of the world. But he still watched.

A grass-stained seven year old boy cradled the arm of a pretty girl with messy blonde hair. They sat in a treehouse, feet dangling over the edge, kicking at the clouds. The girl had tear-tracks running down her cheeks and dead flowers stuck in her hair. She was biting her lip, nodding as the boy spoke.

“I told you not to make your papa mad,” he whispered sternly.

“I didn’t mean to,” her lips trembled, gaze moving to anything but the boy before her. “It wasn’t my fault.”

The boy shook his head as he ran his hand over the forming bruise. “You gotta be more careful Cathy. What if something were to happen to ya?”

“Then let's get out of this town, Harry,” a seventeen-year old girl twirled in the headlights of an old pick-up truck. The waves crashed against the shore in the distance, the sun tenderly kissing the horizon goodbye. The girl’s blonde, messy braids whipped around her shoulder, dress bunched at her ankles. She stood before a brown haired boy, grass-stains on his jeans, leaning against the red truck. “Let’s pack up and leave after graduation next week.”

“And go where, Cathy?” The boy shook his head. “I have a job lined up on the boat and you have-”

“Nothing! I have nothing!” She threw her hands in the air. “I ain’t got nothing lined up. Just my next shift at the diner. I want to go to school, you know I do. But papa-”

“Don’t worry about your father,” the boy grabbed at the girls skirts, pulling her so close their hips touched. “I told you, I’ll protect you from your papa.”

The girl bit her lips, forest green eyes glancing over the boy's shoulder. Her face was tender but the look of caution never left. As if she wanted to believe the boy holding her but her heart refused to pay heed. “Promise?”

“I do.”

Applause thundered across the crowd, the waves beating against the rocky cliffs. The man lifted the woman's veil, tucking a piece of messy blonde hair behind her ear before gripping the back of her neck. He leaned in and placed a kiss on his lips. Whistles and wails filled the air, a screaming violin starting to play as the newly-weds walked down the aisle.

She held on her husband’s arm like a life-line, biting her lip as her father clapped the bride-groom on the shoulder. Her eyes darted around the crowd, the same look of caution from five years ago still masked her face.

It was a look that never left her face, a look that was forever present in the back on her eyes. It was the only thought Jake found he was able to form; the look of a woman who was scared. The look of a woman who was holding a secret.

And maybe she was, for that look stayed with her for all the years to come, Jake noticed. He watched Harold's and Catherine’s life play out before him, just as Harold described. The twenty plus years together. The moments of tender love, the moments of bitter fights. The squealing laughter and howling sobs. The funerals and the weddings, The slamming bottles and doors leading to nights together and alone. It wasn’t the best marriage, but what marriage is, Harold said.

They never had kids, their life centred around just the two of them, their fading love and the growing tension. Every second leading up to that moment, in a garden of muted yellows, reds, and oranges.

Flowers in her messy hair, a near fifty year old Catherine knelt before a bed of dirt. Sunglasses covered her eyes, dirt stained her knees, finger nails, and cheeks. She was silent as she worked.

A door slammed in the distance. “Catherine!”

The tension became electricity in the air. Catherine’s head snapped up as footsteps made their way to the backyard.

Jake noticed it at the exact moment she did. The wind switched directions, bells jingled off the tree tops, mystical laughter floated out from the forest on the other side of the garden.

Catherine turned slowly. The flower fell out of her hair. She tossed the sunglasses onto the ground and her bruised, deep green eyes glowed against the muted world. She walked towards the tree line, footfalls light. Laughter bubbled past her own lips and, between one step and the next, she was gone.

“... the forest swallowed her up and I knew they got to her.”

Jack was back in the bar. Everything rested as it had, and he himself wasn’t even sure if what he had just witnessed was real. Surely not, but the description and details felt real, tangible. As if, for a moment, he truly stood in Harold's memories.

“The forest was the only way out,” Harold’s eyes were wide, urgent, and the brightest things in the whole bar. “It was either through the house or the forest. And she’d been acting out for years. Always in the garden, out on her own. They got her, it's the only answer. But,” a pause, eyes shifting. “I know where she is.”

Jake swallowed, throat dry as sandpaper. “You do?” 

“An island just a few miles out in sea. A rocky cliff, that's where they stay,” Harold nodded, talking more to himself than Jake. “She's there, with them. I’m taking my boat out tomorrow morning. I’m going to get her and-”

“Harold.”

Murphy’s voice was enough to make Jake jump back. He never noticed how close he had been leaning towards the old man. Just as he never realized how tightly he was holding his warm, untouched third glass of beer. He pulled his hand back, wiping it on his jeans as the pulsing in his left temple grew stronger. 

As he looked around the pub, Jake took in all the faces looking his way. Eyes bounced between him and Harold, whispers and murmurs accompanying the flute and violin pair. It was only when Murphy loudly, purposely, cleared his throat that the inhabitants of the bar started to look as if they weren’t listening. 

“Harold,” Murphy spoke softly, placing a hand on Harold’s tense shoulder. “I think it's time to head home, friend.”

There was a fight in Harold’s eyes, Jake could see it. That bloodshot, haunting, soulless gaze held a fire and life to them, ignited by the hatred for creatures that couldn’t exist. But the moment Murphy spoke, the moment Harold looked around the pub and saw all the eyes on him, the fire vashined. It was as quick as releasing a breath, there one minute and gone the next. 

Harold held Jake’s gaze. There was still so much left unsaid, unanswered, and Jake found he didn’t want him to go. His mind and soul craved to know more about fairies and their secret world.

A laughter echoed off the rafters, and Jake realized for the first time that night how terrified and exposed he truly was.

“Tomorrow morning,” Harold grunted as he stood, the invitation loud and clear. Jake didn’t understand why Harold was inviting him along but it somehow made all the sense in the world.

With no other parting words, with not so much as a glance at any other living soul in the pub, Harold walked out. Back hunched as he disappeared over the threshold, rain and wind howling as they swallowed him whole.

A hush carried on throughout the pub for a few heartbeats. Until the flute faded back into the plucking of a guitar. Someone cheered, laughter followed, and soon the lively atmosphere of the bar was back once more. As if the haunted man with an implausible story wasn’t present a few moments before.

“Is it true?” Jake found himself asking, tongue sliding across his chapped lips. He turned in his chair, facing Murphy, who now stood behind the bar. He hoped his shaking hand wasn't noticeable as he raised his beer to his lips. “About those… about the fairies.”

The word tasted like strawberries and metal on his lips.

Murphy glanced up for the glass he was cleaning, scar strained across his cheek as he pursed his lips. “They’re urban folktales. Myths passed down through all the generations of the Harbour.”

“And his wife?”

Murphy paused. He let out a sign, placed the glass under the bar before turning to Jake. Worry and concern shinned in his eyes.

“She left him,” he explained softly, mindful of the ears around. “Packed up and left, just like that.”

“Just like that?” Jake raised an eyebrow at Murphy’s hesitation.

“There were… rumours about cheating and drunken fights but…” Murphy took a breath, crossing his arms on the bartop as he leaned in close. “Look, Harry's a good guy, difficult but good. Our families know each other well. And Cathy… well she had a hard life with her father. She wasn’t all there before she left and Harold took it hard. He still won't get help and has himself convinced the Harbour Fairies are behind it. Says he’s seen things with his own eyes that explains it.”

Jake swallowed, leg bouncing restlessly. “He’s going out tomorrow morning-” 

“Yeah,” Murphy nodded solemnly. “We’ve tried to stop him, talk sense. But he won’t listen. And he’s at the age and point now where we've given up - what can ya do.”

A lot. Jake glanced around the pub, taking in the numerous people laughing, chatting, drinking. He didn’t know these people, he shouldn’t judge, but they could be doing something to help that man. He may be talking crazy but… was he? 

The more Jake studied the bar, the more it felt like a fog was lifting. The pieces were falling into place. The math was suddenly starting to make sense. And Jake refused to acknowledge the answers that were before him.

“Where is she then?” Jake asked, breathing through his nose to calm his racing heart. “His wife. Catherine.”

“No one knows,” Murphy admitted. “She got out of this town, that's for sure. And no one has heard from her since.”

“No one checks in?” Jake couldn’t hide the disbelief from his voice. “No one’s tried to find out where she is or what happened.”

Murphy watched Jake for an uncomfortable moment. His eyes looked him over, mouth twisting as if to say something. But then his lips shut, he blinked, and he shrugged before pointing to the still full glass in front of Jake. “You want another?”

Jake's breath caught in his throat. Claws bit into his spine. His skin felt too tight as a breeze brushed the back of his neck, red flashing in his vision. The room was too small and too big all at once. He didn’t know why he was feeling such a way or what had brought it on. But his gut knew it was because of this town.

And he knew he wanted to get out.

The door to the pub shut as a couple walked out, but the noise still rattled against Jake’s bones as he shook his head.

“No,” he stood up, hand shaking as he pulled out some bills and tossed them on the bar. “I think I’ll call it a night actually.”

Murphy picked up the money, either not noticing the odd behaviour or choosing to ignore it as he smiled. “Well, Mr. Jake, I hope you enjoy the rest of your short stay. Maybe someday we’ll get to see you passing through the Harbour again.”

“Who knows,” Jake gave a nervous chuckle, “It seems anything is possible.”

He left the pub in shambles. The smell of ashes and fowl fish followed Jake as he made his way to the door. Tables were knocked off centre, chairs were tipped over. The banjo played too loud and slightly off key. Men and women alike stumbled over one another, drinks spilled onto the floor. Even Murphy’s slicked back pony was a mess, falling into his dark, sweat covered face.

The illusion was breaking, the corners being pulled back to show something ugly and monstrous. Something those who inhabited Higdon’s Harbour refused to acknowledge.

Jake stepped over the threshold, blood pounding through his veins. He welcomed the rain beating down on his face, the wind biting through his damp jacket and nipping at his icy skin. The door to Kay & Elle closed with a thunderous bang. The banjo and hysterical laughter was replaced by sorrowful wind and wailing rain.

He stood there for a moment, face turned towards the sky as he tried to will air into his lungs. 

He needed to get out of this town.

Whatever force pulled Jake towards the pub earlier was controlled by a demon. He didn’t know what purpose it served him, to hear about Harold and the fairies… fairies that shouldn’t, didn’t, couldn’t exist…

Someone squealed and giggled across the parking lot. With a jump, heart in his throat, Jake started to make his way back to the safety of his room.

And he was almost there, just a mere few steps away, when his body suddenly felt as if it were stretched too thin. Nausea overcame him and his head spun. The rain pierced his skin like devilish needles and the wind sang a woman's lullaby in his ear. He could hear his blood pounding in his ears, thunder crashing as someone bumped into his shoulder.

It was an innocent tap, the woman clearly too captivated by the lady on her arm to notice him. But it did all the damage in the world.

“Oh!” She gasped, the sound like a thousand bells. She grabbed his arm, full-lips pulled back in an apologetic smile as all the air vanished from Jake's chest. “I’m sorry.”

He couldn't breath, the pulsing in his left temple was suddenly magnified by ten. The warmth of her hand on his arm spread through his whole body. He no longer felt the wind and rain beating against him, he was too allured by her auburn curls, high-cheekbones, and hazel eyes that glistened like moss coated in morning dew. 

She was the most hauntingly beautiful creature he had ever beheld. And every part of his being begged him to run.

“Are you okay, Jake?” Her partner spoke up. They were holding one another so close, arms locked tight, it was as if they were one. Gravity pulled them together; where one moved the other followed. A simple stranger such as himself could not doubt their adoration and love.

Jake ripped his gaze away from the red-headed woman and looked at her partner. He took in her slim face, the dirty dress, and messy blonde hair pinned back with a flower.

It was then that Jake noticed that both women were completely dry.

It was then that Jake realized they knew his name.

It was then that his eyes met the blonde’s green ones, and he saw it all.

“I told you not to make your papa mad,” a seven year old boy with grass stains on his knees told the six year old girl with a bruised arm.

“I didn’t mean to,” she trembled, and Jake realized she wasn’t avoiding the boys gaze. She was looking at someone else. She was looking at the young auburn haired creature standing a few feet away, invisible to the boy and eyes tense with worry. “It wasn't my fault.”

Be more careful, the boy told her at the exact moment the creature met the girl's gaze and said, I know. I’ll protect you.

“I told you,” said a seventeen year old boy as he gripped a sixteenth year old's skirts. “I’ll protect you from your papa.”

You know he can’t, Cathy, The auburn creature said, standing over the boy's shoulder as she held the girl’s green-eyed gaze. I’ll protect you from them both.

The blonde trembled. “Promise?” 

With all the power of the forest and the sea. I promise.

She was there, always there. She did all she could to keep her promise. But it seemed even she was limited in her abilities.

Jake watched Harold and Catherine's life play out once more. As the twenty plus years faded together, the moments of tender love vanished. The fights were more frequent, more aggressive than Harold let on. He stumbled home in the dark more than once, eyes bloodshot and words slurred. There were many years of fights and screams. Fists were thrown and bones were broken. And the red-head was there through it all, helping as best as she could. She cared for Cathy, tried to protect her, but it wasn’t enough.

Run away with me, Cathy. It's the only way.

And run she did.

It wasn’t a laugh that called Catherine to the forest that day in the garden as Harold’s raging voice bellowed off the walls of the house. No, it was not a laugh at all, but her name, spoken in bells and chimes, love and warmth.

Catherine stepped over the threshold of the forest, laughter on her lips, as she jumped into the arms of the beautiful red-headed fairy.

She didn’t leave, wasn’t taken. She willingly left her delusional old life for one of magic and wonder and respect.

Jake stumbled back a step, shaking off the hand of the creature before him. His head was spinning, his stomach turned and his vision blurred as he truly saw the two ladies before him. As he noticed the glow around them, the electricity that danced in their wake. 

This town, these people… how could anyone let a woman suffer as Catherine did and not do anything? How could they not see what was right in front of them?

And these creatures, the fairies, Harold painted them as the demons and yet, this fairy was Catherine’s saving grace, her lover, her protector...

They shared a look, the two lovers, before turning back to him. They didn’t say another word as the fairy smiled at Jake, white teeth flashing, and blew him a kiss. They turned to leave, Catherine giving him a wink over her shoulder, before disappearing into their hotel room. Right next door to his.

Jake stumbled as fast as he could to his room, slamming the door behind him as he tried to catch his breath and will his mind to understand what the hell was going on.

It took him a few moments to realize, for the first time all night, he was completely dry.  

----------

Light had yet to transform the morning sky when Jake sped out of the Beaumont Motel parking lot. The rain had stopped and the winds were whisked away. Grey clouds lingered in the sky, suffocating the rising sun on the horizon. 

What was once a piece of art to Jake was now the ugliest thing he had ever seen. 

The mountain reached its claws to the sky, holding all the trees and buildings in the palm of its hand. The roads swerved in and out of its fingers, weather-worn homes running up the forest-speckled hills, trying to escape. The ocean leaped for joy as it played with the rocky cliffs, trying to capture and destroy anything it could reach. The boats bobbed in the water, begging to be let free, while the docks pointed their fingers to the open sea, luring in any desperate and lonely souls to the corrupt town. 

The ocean was painted an angry blue against the grey light. The white-capped waves pounded against anything in their way. What Jake once thought was a place of harmony, he realized now, was an illusion.

The image had been shattered, broken beyond repair.

The land had won after all, he realized now. It had conquered Higdon’s Harbour and all within it. There was no agreement, no compromise to live in peace. For nothing could truly defeat nature.

The land cackled against the last remains of the raging storm winds. For it knew the game it was playing; it knew who truly ruled the town. And it was not man.

Jake made it out before the first kitchen light flickered on. Before the inhabitants of Higdon’s Harbour woke and started about their delusional lives. His heart pounded in his chest the whole way, hands shaking as they gripped his steering wheel. Even when he passed the city line, his body refused to relax. Not as the sound of chimes echoed on and on and on in his head.

By the time Jake remembered Harold, he was long gone. And he was too far out to turn back. Too far out to hear the news, or see the headline of the Higdon’s Harbour newspaper that morning. And to hear the otherworldly laugh that accompanied it.

Man Crashes Boat Off Rocky Cliffs In Desperate Search Of His Wife.