#and of course with that comes the enormous change where her own desperate desire for belonging and love can’t hurt her the way it used to

[itspileofgoodthings]

I love you’re on your own kid so much for so many reasons but one of the biggest ones is just that. there’s no turn, there’s no key change, there’s no moment of triumph or change. the same thing happens, the same structure is used, nothing gets better, things just get HARDER. but she endures. and as she endures there are so many elements of her situation that still don’t necessarily change but her perspective does. and it’s so subtle and matter of fact and un-dramatic but it’s everything?? I looked around in a blood-soaked gown and I saw something they can’t take away. I just. She articulates the shift from childhood into adulthood precisely, heartbreakingly, truthfully. and it’s not achieving success that accomplishes that shift, or reaching a specific goal, or even falling in love and seeing herself and reality anew in a beautiful light. it’s a completely internal, independent of anyone else, clear-eyed discovery of her own strength. and the peace in it is just the peace of facing reality in all its battered brokenness. and it just kills me every time.

[wedreamedlove]

[FIC] Dandelion

Rating: G Characters: Li Zeyan/Reader Word Count: 1589

Prompt: Hi! I really like your writing 🥺! Thank you for your hard work❤️❤️! If you don't mind can I request a headcanon about Victor when MC is hospitalized because she is fainted due to her overwork, and when she gain her consciousness she try to leave the hospital because she is worried about the important filming at her office, but Victor chase her and make her back to hospital's bed? I will really happy if you grant my request 🥰🥰

A/N: Thank you for your kind words! I ended up writing this in my usual 2nd person perspective but the experiences are of the MC in the game. If that bothers anyone, oops, you can re-imagine this to be written in 3rd person perspective.

Something like fuzz encroaches at the edges of your vision and your head feels like it's filled with cotton. None of these are good signs and, to be honest, you know you're at your limit after working 60 hours for the past three days.

You're able to get away with this—as well as the enormous pile of energy drinks on your desk—only because Anna is away on a business trip for another project, meaning no one else in the company dares to make you take a break. Oh, there are people who make gentle suggestions to rest but none of them can budge your determination to perfect this important contract you had accepted. Last minute changes had been added to the outline and so, to ensure everything is still on schedule, you have to pull this insane work schedule.

But you can see the light at the end of the tunnel. You just have to finish looking through the last 20 pages of this document in front of you.

You rub your forehead to stave off the building tension in your head and reach out with your other hand for a drink. However, your hand only bumps into empty cans around you and you grimace as you realize you have to make another run to the nearby convenience store to buy more drinks.

When you stand up to do just that, extreme vertigo assaults you and your last thought before your vision goes black is 'Oh... this isn't good.'

#

You wake up to an extremely white ceiling.

It's pure white.

It's so white that, for a second, you morbidly wonder if you really overdid it this time. But then the rest of your senses make themselves known and you smell the antiseptic scent of a hospital, you feel the crisp sheets below your hands, and you think you hear someone breathing.

You turn your head to the side and your gaze collides into eyes the color of steel. It's Li Zeyan, and with an incredible scowl no less.

"You're awake."

You struggle to sit up and swing your legs to the side of the bed, but he places a large hand on your thigh immediately, obstructing your movement and pressing you down.

"What do you think you're doing?" Li Zeyan's voice is clipped. Uh oh, someone isn't happy.

"I have to get back to the company."

He gives you an incredulous look. "Do you realize what state you're in?"

His words make you notice you're in a hospital gown and there is an IV drip attached to you. You wince slightly at the sight of the needle in the back of your hand but another thought soon takes over your mind.

"Wait, how long have I been here? Did I miss the deadline?" Your voice rises in desperation and there's a suffocating weight on your chest when you think about how all your earlier work might amount to nothing.

"Idiot, how are you still thinking about work? You truly don't understand your condition. You hadn't had any proper sleep or food and the amount of energy drinks you were drinking was dangerous. Even though you're still young, if you continue like that you could do irreparable damage to your body. You—" He cuts himself off and his eyes widen. "Are you... crying?"

You reflexively reach up to touch your cheek and your fingertips come back wet. You blink and Li Zeyan's figure goes blurry as more tears well up in your eyes.

"Sorry, it's just a physical reaction. Don't mind me. You can keep lecturing. I'm listening," you choke out through a tight throat. Frustration, embarrassment, and mortification strangles you.

You roughly wipe at the tears, wanting them to stop right now before you see the exasperation in Li Zeyan's eyes. Intellectually, you know he's right and you don't want it to look like you're crying to get him to go easy on you. There have been many times where you feel childish and inadequate compared to him and so you don't need to come off even more as a baby throwing a tantrum.

But the tears just won't stop. Your shoulders shake with the effort you use to suppress your sobs.

A hand holding a tissue box appears in your lap.

"Cry it out."

You shake your head like a rattle drum.

"... What haven't I seen?" Li Zeyan's voice is low and even, and it's when he places a hand on your head that your last resistance crumbles.

You hunch over, automatically trying to stifle your gasps, but you end up crying your eyes out anyway.

You cry, and cry, and cry. You cry about the pressure of the deadline. You cry about the fear of not being able to make it. You cry about the anxiety and worry over whether you're doing enough or whether you're good enough. You cry at how hard it is to be be a successful adult.

The entire time you can feel the soft pressure of Li Zeyan stroking your hair.

Eventually, you calm down enough to start pulling wads of tissue out of the box to wipe your eyes and blow your nose as the last of your tears trickle to a stop. All your emotions feel raw and sensitive, but you have to admit you feel a lot better.

Li Zeyan takes your dirty tissues before you can say anything and tosses them into the wastebasket below the bed. Then he levels an unreadable gaze on you and, just as you're about to squirm and open your mouth, he speaks first.

"Why are you working so hard?"

"Huh?"

"No one pushes themselves like this unless there's something very important they're trying to achieve. So, what is it for you?"

"... You're going to think I'm dumb."

He stares at you flatly and you can see that he's clearly thinking it's a bit too late for that.

You look down at the hospital sheets and pick at a loose thread. "I want to catch up to you."

"Idiot." He actually scoffs out loud but continues before you can decide how to react to that, leaning back in his chair. "Do you know why I created Huarui?"

You blink, caught off guard. You know it isn't a family business and that he started the company when he was in his final years of university. But did he ever say why he created it? Because he could? Li Zeyan standing at the top of the world seems as natural as the sun rising in the east and setting in the west, so you never questioned it.

He sees your confusion and explains, "I was looking for the girl who saved me when I was a child. I searched for her for 11 years."

Your childhood memories are still vague but you do remember the more recent memory of the film set where you and Li Zeyan had been tricked and how you jumped in front of Li Zeyan to shield him. You can almost feel the ache and burn of the lightning strike again if you think hard enough.

Li Zeyan continues to look at you, his eyes calm without any ripples. "I built Huarui and made it rise to the top because I thought that, if I stood in the highest place I could think of, then she would have an easier time finding me. Of course, the position itself also allowed me to increase the extent of my search for her."

"In the end, I did find you."

A wry smile flashes across his face, so quick you doubt your eyes. "Yes, you found me first, and so my choice wasn't the wrong one."

You know he's trying to tell you something but, try as you might, you can't figure out how the current conversation connects back to the previous one. As the silence grows, you see exasperation appear in Li Zeyan's eyes before he sighs lightly.

"Now, after all these years and efforts, do you think I would walk away? You only need to reach out and I'm right here, waiting for you."

His words crash into you, bringing with them a sudden epiphany and new perspective. You reach out without a thought, as if to touch him and make sure he really is there, but then you realize how silly that looks. Before your hand can drop though, he covers the remaining distance and grabs your hand, wrapping your entire hand within his and entwining your fingers together. The familiar warmth and steady strength makes your eyes sting again and you drop your gaze to your interlinked hands, not wanting him to see you cry again.

You finally realize you've been mistaken all this time. You were being crushed by your own expectations and desires to stand beside him. In your head, you imagined him to be walking ahead of you, his back growing smaller and smaller. But that isn't true at all. Yes, he stands in front of you, but he isn't moving. Instead, his body is turned to yours and he's holding a hand out towards you, waiting for you to take a step. If you fall, he will catch you. If you take a firm step and grasp his hand, he will take another step forward and wait for you there.

"I'm not going anywhere." The words were low and solemn.

"Mm."

Against all odds, you both found each other again and so there is no way either of you will leave the other.

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

anonymous: Am I the only one who really doesn’t like that Meatbun chose to make a member of a brutalized race the villain? I feel like it feeds into that message of revolutionaries who want justice being doomed to be corrupted by the power getting to their heads and turn into evil tyrants.

This is an interesting question anon! Thank you for this ask. 

First of all, I understand completely where you’re coming from. I’m always iffy when a main antagonist is a member of a brutalized, discriminated race whose ultimate goal is to get his/her people to safety. I don’t, as a general rule, sit very comfortably with the antagonist being someone who wants to end discrimination based on race against his/her people, or any people. Like, nope. I’m also extremely leery of that message of “revolutionaries who want social justice go bad”, and my wariness toward seeing a main antagonist with the motivation of ending some kind of oppression is an extension of that. 2ha, to a certain degree, does press those buttons, because just the fact of a member of an oppressed people being in an antagonistic position is... meh. I wish we’d at least seen the perspective of a non-villainous Butterfly-Boned Beauty Feast. (Of course, this is just personal taste - others might not feel the same way.) 

However! There’s a reason why that doesn’t turn me off from the story. I would really dislike it if Meatbun made out Shi Mei’s desire to save his people as a bad thing, or if she had that desire gradually be warped into something less sympathetic - say, an appetite for destruction and vengeance. But she didn’t do either of those things, not at all. Although she rightfully condemns the damage he did to innocent people because of that desire, the desire itself is painted in a very sympathetic light. I would go as far as to say that the fact that Hua Binan’s resolve to end the oppression of his people was truly a good thing is why Meatbun gives him such a peaceful send-off despite the many terrible things he’s done. I mean, it’s not peaceful in-universe, since he’s literally squashed, but it’s a dignified death. He’s not crying, or screaming, or having a Villainous Breakdown over the fact that he has to die. Instead he’s... unhesitant in literally defying cosmic laws so that his people can get to safety, and the text is comparing his actions to that of his mother, who sacrificed her life to give him time to escape. (Off on a tangent, but I cannot help but laugh disbelievingly every time I reread Hua Binan’s death. Like, this man said, “Hey guys, I’m going to fight the demon guardian upholding a law of the universe, hold on a minute.” No consideration, no weighing of options, no nothing. Just “That’s what I’m gonna do then!” I mentioned in another post that despite his villainy I cannot help but respect the sheer audacity that Shi Mei has, and... yeah, I’m going to have to admit that the actions Hua Binan took leading up to his death display that same audacity.)

If I was choosing something to contrast the narrative tone of Hua Binan’s death with, I’d bring up Yagami Light, from Death Note. (I’m sticking to manga canon here, not anime.) He’s absolutely losing his composure, unable to face the fact that he’s been defeated and he has to die, and is crawling all over the ground desperately for a way to save himself. He then proceeds to start begging Ryuk to help him, and goes completely ballistic when Ryuk instead writes his name in his Death Note.

Hua Binan goes in almost the exact opposite fashion; he is not losing his composure, he’s unflinching at the knowledge that these actions mean his own death, and he’s not trying to save himself - he’s giving his life to save the other Butterfly-Boned Beauty Feasts. I mean, he literally keeps holding on despite being in enormous pain to make sure everyone gets through! At no point during his death does the text say or imply that he regrets sacrificing himself for the other Butterfly-Boned Beauty Feasts. I also really like how there is no thought in his mind as he’s being crushed that isn’t related to his people - most notably there’s nothing about Chu Wanning, whom he is supposedly in love with. I think it’s driving in that Hua Binan’s ultimate priority, despite what kind of feelings he might have towards anyone else, has always been his people. Nothing else will ever matter to him as much as his goal to get the Butterfly-Boned Beauty Feasts to safety. (Although, mind you, that’s not necessarily a good thing - just look at all the devastation and death he caused in pursuit of that goal.) And like I said, I think that by giving him a heroic death, Meatbun was respecting that, if nothing else, his determination to stop the suffering of his brutalized people was truly genuine, and truly commendable.

That’s what sets this apart, for me, from the message, “Revolutionaries who want to overturn deep-rooted social injustices will go bad because they are corrupted by the power they have.” Hua Binan is not corrupted by power! His desire to save his people never changes, it’s never gradually distorted into something megalomaniacal the way that “cautionary tales” warn us will happen to revolutionaries. It is not the warping of his goal to end an injustice that makes him a villain - because that remains pure and unchanging, from start to finish. Rather, it’s the amount of innocent people he hurt and killed to achieve that goal. The fact that he perpetuates a cycle of abuse - dehumanization and brutalization is what he and his people suffer, and he responds in kind, by creating and executing a master plan hinged on dehumanizing and brutalizing others. That’s what Meatbun is condemning him for, and that’s why he’s the villain. And I really appreciate that she, in my opinion, makes it very clear that his goal itself was and remains a good thing. As mentioned above, the way I see it, the relative dignity of Hua Binan’s death was an acknowledgement the fact that there was nothing inherently wrong with his desire to save his people, that it was in fact a heroic desire. Because of that nuance, I’m not as put off as I usually am at the idea of the main villain being the member of an oppressed race, and I think Meatbun avoided the “cautionary tale” trope of having a revolutionary seeking justice becoming warped with power. 

[nalu4emily]

The Unexpected Reward - Chapter 15

Summary:  Natsu and Lucy go on a job together, but what they bring home is something neither anticipated. Forced to make a life changing decision, they have to adapt quickly, but that's never easy, especially given the circumstances. As they work together on their toughest adventure yet, they find themselves drawn to one another, in ways they never realised. Nalu/cute/fluff/multi-chapter.

The moon had come out to play by the time the Heartfilia girl finally stirred from her slumber. Casting shadows across the bed she found herself in, she carefully sat herself up and promptly took in the familiar sight of her bedroom. Goosebumps scattered across her skin as the covers fell from her shoulders. Catching a glimpse of herself, she noticed her clothes were not the same borrowed items she'd worn previously, but a slinky night top instead, one that barely covered much of her midriff and a pair of butt-hungry underwear.

Adjusting to the dim glow peering in through the large window, her eyes pored over the room in hope her memories might return should she find what she was searching for, not that she knew what that was, of course. There was something—something important—she knew, but what? It was right there, staring her blankly in the face, so close she could almost touch it…

"Haru!" She yelled, eyes widening when the events of the previous day came flooding back.

In a blind panic, she scrambled to get herself out of the bed, battling with the covers that didn't seem to want to let go. Cursing at them in her haste, she attempted to swing them off of her and felt the frustration rise when she'd accomplished nothing more than nearly tumble out of the bed. Luckily, a single warm hand reached from behind and grabbed her around the wrist, guiding her back onto the mattress just as she was about to face-plant the floor.

"Lucy, what're you doing? You'll wake everyone up with the noise you're making." Natsu's gravelly voice reached her ears from behind.

Turning around, she noted that he had also just woken up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and yawning loudly. She stared long and hard at him, like she was searching for answers to questions of which she'd not asked yet.

"Natsu…" Tilting her head in confusion, she hadn't even noticed him there. "Where's Haru? Is he okay?"

"He's doing just fine; warm and comfy last time I checked." Natsu grinned, trying to ease the worry that was clear in her expression. "Why don't ya come lay down with me? Then you'll be warm and comfy too!"

"But, I-I…" She hesitantly pulled away from the fire mage, who'd been gently coaxing her back into bed, and walked over to the bedroom door. "I need to peek in on him and see for myself, or I'll never get back to sleep."

Truth be told, when she cracked open his bedroom door, little Haru was fast asleep. A milk bottle still hung from his mouth and a little milky drool had trickled onto the mattress. Lucy stood by his crib side for a moment, drinking in the sight of her son sleeping so peacefully after his ordeal. Smoothing a few wispy black strands away from his eyes, she smiled, relief over taking all sense of dread that had reeked havoc on her and relaxed a little.

Yawning herself, Lucy left the baby's room to return to her own, slipping down under the plush covers. A calmness washed over her, allowing sleep to pull her back in. Her peaceful disposition was quickly ruined when she felt a ruffling of the covers. Her eyes pinged open when two very strong arms came to wrap around her middle and draw her into a muscular torso, one she all but melted into.

"See, I told ya he was fine. You worry too much." The fire mage spoke into her hair, smirking as he nuzzled his head against the top of Lucy's.

"It's not that I didn't believe you; I just needed to see for myself and you were right. He is fine—more than fine—he's perfect!" She confirmed, snuggling into Natsu's firm hold, eyes level with his collar bone. "That was some incredible power he dispelled though, don't you think? It was enormous! I definitely wasn't expecting that!"

"You're telling me, it was awesome! He's gonna be so much fun to spar with when he gets older; I can teach him all kinds of cool stuff!" Natsu beamed in his enthusiasm, already making plans for the little boy.

"You want to teach him your magic? But I thought it was too dangerous? If it weren't for Igneel and his plan, you and the others would have dragonized by now." The blonde pointed out, wondering if the man next to her had thought about the consequences of his magic type.

"Yeah, so? He doesn't have to be a dragon slayer to learn fire magic."

"O-Oh… right. Well, what if he doesn't want to learn fire magic? What if he wants to be a celestial mage, like me?" She asked uncertainly, half expecting him to scoff at the idea.

"Then he'll learn celestial magic… duh! Honestly, Luce, I thought you were the smart one here?" Natsu smirked and Lucy simply rolled her eyes back at him, secretly impressed by his answer.

"What about ice-make magic?" She suggested oh-so innocently, grinning to herself as she heard the displeased growl emanate from Natsu's chest.

"Okay, now you're pushing it…"

Lucy chortled, in turn making Natsu do the same. They turned to each other, moss green peered down whilst chocolate brown gazed up, grinning like idiots no less—like best friends did—just the two of them for the first time since the fire mage had returned from his mission.

Lucy was so contented to have him back in her arms again. The same old dragon slayer that brought joy wherever he went and to whomever he met. A truly pure-natured and beautiful person was he, inside and out, that she really didn't know where her life would be without him.

"I've missed you, Natsu, and I'm so glad you're home now, everything feels normal again." She leaned up to gently caress his cheek with her thumb and felt him move closer, his breath now fanning softly against her mouth.

"I've missed you too, Luce, but I thought about ya everyday!" He gently placed his forehead on hers and relished in her wondrous scent, allowing it to seep into his pores and overtake his senses. "That job was such a drag without you there, it's just not the same."

"At least you had Happy to keep you company. How did it go anyway? I never did get to ask you." She asked, feeling guilty for being so distracted at the time.

"You're gonna wish you hadn't either." He shrugged nonchalantly, obviously not interested in talking about it.

"Oh… Like that, huh? My little wake up call was well received then?" The girl smirked, flicking her nose against his.

Hearing his chuckle rumble through his chest sent a shiver down Lucy's spine. She had certainly stirred something within him. The hunger evident from the way he licked his lips. His tongue glided from one curved corner to the other so fluidly, so intentionally, that he appeared almost predatory. With his face so tantalisingly close, she felt her breath mingle with his. The slight quirk of his lips formed into a knowing smirk once she'd surrendered under his fiery gaze.

Pushing forwards, the lustful dragon welded their lips together, pouring three weeks of needy desire into her mouth for her to swallow down. Lapping it up desperately, a tingle ran from her lips straight down to the heated area between her legs, eliciting a small hum from the pleasant sensation.

He flicked and swirled his tongue across hers, reminding her of all the times he'd done that exact action in other, more intimate places to bring her to the brink of ecstasy. The very thought had her clenching her thighs together to calm the arousal that was surely building. But, she had to pull away all too soon, stifling a yawn that'd rudely interrupted them.

"Oops, sorry!" She heard him snigger this time, clearly amused by her body's impeccably shit timing. "What a way to ruin the mood…"

"Nah, you could never do that." He murmured close to her mouth, looking her dead in the eyes as he spoke so huskily. "I'm always in the mood to fuck you."

Nearly choking on her own spit, she hadn't expected him to be so crude. "Natsu…" She blushed, giving him exactly the reaction he wanted. "You're so dirty! It's a shame I'm too tired to teach you a lesson."

"Is that so?" He smirked, grazing his mouth along her jawline, planting open mouthed kisses all the way along it. "Maybe I need to try a little harder then…" The young man whispered into her ear as he sucked on her lobe, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. "Call it, returning the favour."

Using his teeth to nip at her sensitive neck, he deployed his hand to graze languidly down towards her ample chest, lightly brushing over her nipple peeking through the fabric of her top on its journey towards her panties.

"A-And where does your hand think it's going?" She gasped, a vault of electricity shooting down to her groin as he tweaked the erect nipple once more.

"For a little wander…"

His hand delved under her chest and lightly brushed along her curves. Upon settling between her hips, it had one final hurdle to overcome—her panties. He pushed the heel of his palm down into her lower tummy to tuck his fingers inside and slide them deep below the lacy material.

Lucy's eyes flew wide open the moment his heel dug too deeply and unexpectedly shot upright, gasping loudly. Clutching hold of her belly with both hands she looked down at it in shock; a moan of discomfort passed her lips as she felt a wave of nausea hit her straight in the gut.

Her stomach had felt fine not a few moments ago, but now it was twisting and churning unpleasantly. With gritted teeth, she winced, clenching her hands tighter around the tender area in the hopes it might pass.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Natsu asked surprised, sitting up with her to have a closer look. He noticed instantly that her expression was pained and distorted. Her fingers gripped at the hem of her top and seemed to tighten every time her face winced. Was she in pain? Did he hurt her somehow? He didn't remember doing anything to cause such discomfort. "Did I hurt you, Luce?"

"I-It's not yo-" The poor girl covered her mouth with a slight groan, feeling something other than words about to spew out of it.

Natsu placed his hand on her shoulder, feeling her skin begin to warm and moisten under his touch. Honestly, he wasn't all that sure what was wrong or what he could do to help, except to try and offer some sort of comfort. About to ask what he could do for her, the blonde groaned much louder this time and hurried off of the bed, using her legs to push off of it like a slingshot and catapulted out of the door.

"Lucy?!" Natsu exclaimed more urgently, moving quickly to follow after her.

Before he could even reach the bathroom door, the offensive sound of his partner throwing chunks showered his ears. In all the years he'd known Lucy, she'd rarely got sick and he'd very rarely seen her vomit, so this was a new one for him. Unease and, dare he say it, curiosity filled him as he made his way to the bathroom, not fully prepared for the sight that greeted him. The poor blonde was kneeling on the floor, her hunched form hugging the toilet bowl with vomit coating the bottom of it.

Taking the initiative, he knelt down behind her and gathered her hair away from the danger zone. Applying a light pressure, he placed a warm hand on her back and rubbed it in small circles, just like she did for him when he had motion sickness. She continued to puke until there was nothing more to bring up, retching and heaving instead until her ribs and stomach began to ache.

"Ugh! This is so gross… I'm sure this isn't what you meant by repay the favour." Lucy chuckled lightly whilst panting, earning a small half smile from the fire mage.

No, it most definitely wasn't… He'd seen their night going very differently. Not a few minutes ago he had been complete horn dog, now that couldn't be further from the truth.

She leaned herself against Natsu's upper body and placed the back of her sweaty head on his shoulder. Inhaling rapid, shallow breaths through her dry mouth, she closed her strained, watery eyes, knowing the nausea wasn't quite through with her yet.

"Did you eat something funny or what? You don't just throw up like that for no reason." The disconcerted man asked, dragging the clumped, blonde bangs away from her clammy forehead. He was trying to work out just what the heck could be wrong with his sickly girlfriend and what, if anything, they could do to cure it. "Are you in pain, Luce?"

"A-A little… My head is pounding, but it's my stomach that hurts the most. I don't think I've eaten-" The thought of food in that moment twisted her stomach in knots, enough to land her head back in the bowl.

"It's alright, Luce, I gotcha." He quickly gathered her hair again and began running his fingers through the ends, trying to bring her some comfort at least.

She could only describe her stomach pains as something similar to period cramping, but instead of bleeding, it was accompanied by the need to force more and more bile out of her system. With barely enough time to catch her breath in between heaves, her chest had grown tight and heavy causing even more discomfort than before.

The stellar mage didn't know how long she'd spent vomiting in the end; after what'd felt like hours, the nausea finally subsided. A sense of euphoria came over her when she could finally breathe again and Natsu, ever so gently, pulled her back into his chest.

"My chest is so sore!" Hands clasped between her breasts, gulping down as she fought to fill her lungs with needed air.

"I know, you've been at it for a while, Lucy. Do you think you're okay to come back to bed? Some sleep will do you good." She nodded and went to stand. Natsu jumped to his feet first and reached a hand out to carefully bring her up onto unsteady legs. "Take it easy there Luce, you don't wanna make yourself hurl again."

Smiling appreciatively, Lucy grabbed a wash cloth from beside the sink and soaked it with cold water to cool her skin, washing the sweat off in the process. She brushed her teeth and rinsed her mouth out to get rid of the nasty taste that lingered there. Once she felt a little fresher, she straightened herself out and took one last glance in the mirror.

"Do I look different to you?" She asked curiously, staring down at her exposed abdomen, not sure if it was just her eyes playing tricks on her.

"Obviously…" Natsu answered, watching Lucy whip her head around to glare at him, giving him scary Erza vibes. "You're all sicky; you're not gonna look normal after all that!" Then she relaxed again, thankful for Natsu's obliviousness to such matters. "Do you need me to get you anything? Water? A bucket?" He sniggered at the last suggestion, earning a playful smack to the arm by an amused but overly exerted blonde.

"Water would be great, thanks." He was gone in a flash.

With an exaggerated yawn and stretch, her jelly-like legs traipsed back to their bedroom. Perching herself on the edge of the bed, Lucy leaned her head down at her sensitive stomach and stared at it curiously, grazing her hands ever so gently over it to test how far she could push without feeling sick again.

She didn't understand what was wrong with her; why was she so sick? Could it have been something that she'd eaten? Or maybe she'd caught a stomach bug? Whatever it was, it seemed to come in bouts and was made worse when she felt tired or drained, like when she'd used her magic. She'd never felt so sick in her life, the odd cold here and there but that was about it.

In general, Lucy felt that she was pretty healthy, she ate well, looked after her body, stayed well hydrated, so to be struck with an unknown sickness like this had knocked her for six, that was for sure.

"Here ya go, Luce." Natsu said, walking into the room. He passed her the water and watched her swig it down in one. "You must've been thirsty! Are you feeling alright now?"

"I don't really know. It's my stomach; it feels… weird, I guess?" Lucy steadily reached over to place the empty glass down on the bedside, careful not to make any sudden movements that might land her back in the bathroom.

"Hmm… You mean like you can't touch it?" Natsu asked, not really understanding what 'weird' meant in this context but took the initiative to go off what he felt like after vomiting.

"Yeah, kinda. Every time I do, I feel sick again. It's super sensitive right now." She sighed dejectedly and let her head fall lazily onto the pillow, bringing her legs up to get comfortable while Natsu got in beside her. "I hope this feeling goes away soon. Maybe I'll feel better in the morning after some sleep?"

"Maybe. But if you don't, I'll look after ya, so you ain't gotta worry." He said, planting a small peck on her cheek and then turning her face with his fingers to place a longer, more loving kiss on her lips. "G'night, Luce."

"Thanks, Natsu, good night." She felt the warmth from his body envelope hers, comforting her sore muscles as his hand laid carefully on her hip and stroked the exposed skin there, relaxing under his touch.

The young slayer waited for her to fall asleep before relaxing completely, exhaling a large sigh as he took in the events of the previous day. He really did hope that Lucy wasn't coming down with some nasty bug, that's all she needed after dealing with Haru being so poorly. If Natsu was being completely honest with himself, he wasn't sure what to think. From what he'd seen so far, he was sceptical to say the least; was this some unknown ailment? Or something else entirely? He didn't know.

Sure she felt nauseous; was vomiting; complained of headaches and fatigue; which were all indications of illness—he knew that. However, something just felt different about her symptoms compared to other times he'd seen her under the weather, the boy just couldn't figure out what.

Lucy had told him she'd spent the better part of the past week awake all day and night feeling stressed about Haru, which would tire anyone out. He deduced that that might explain her fatigue and headaches, but the nausea and vomiting—that he couldn't explain. Not to mention her sensitive stomach and the cramping. Nor could he decipher why she'd struggled so much when using her magic; a bug wouldn't usually interfere with that.

He was no expert on these sorts of matters, hell, it was rare the hot head ever found himself unwell in the first place, so really, what would he know?

But there was an inkling. A hunch you might say or conception, ironically. In the deep recesses of his boggled, clueless mind, he knew he'd come across this sort of thing before. Not all that often but around town, on jobs, even in the guild hall he'd heard mutterings between fellow members and guild mates alike, he'd just never taken the time to care before now.

Now he kinda wished he had…

With his lack of knowledge, Natsu had no idea what his suspicions meant and whether he was actually on to something or just barking up the wrong tree. His brain, unable to make any sense of it, was beginning to hurt from all of the over thinking he was doing and decided to dismiss the idea completely.

Nestling his head into the back of Lucy's hair, he inhaled deeply, her floral scent invading his nostrils and allowed the tiredness to overcome him. Closing his eyes, the slight pang of disappointment didn't go completely unnoticed before he drifted off to sleep.

"Are you sure you're gonna be okay while I'm gone?" Natsu asked outside the bathroom door, not overly pleased that Lucy had locked him out. Hearing more vomit hit the pan, he cringed and wondered how much longer she was going to be. "Because I don't wanna leave you like this…" He heard the flush go and the water run, then finally the lock on the door clicked and it swung open, revealing a ghostly pale and zombie(ish) looking Lucy, "Luce, you're looking awful!"

"Thanks, Natsu, always the charmer…" She croaked out, throat sore from throwing up her breakfast. She'd been in and out of the bathroom all morning, puking her guts up, looking more and more, as Happy put it, like death warmed up. "I was kinda hoping I'd feel better today, but I just feel like shit…"

"Maybe you just need some more rest? I could always ask Wendy over?" He suggested, forgetting the young girl had left for a mission that morning. "Oh, actually forget that, what about Porlyusica instead?"

"No, please not her! I think she saw enough of us yesterday and I really don't feel like being shouted at today, my head can't take it." That woman could be frightening at the best of times, it was better to avoid her unless absolutely necessary.

"But Luce, you've been in the bathroom all morning, you gotta see someone about it!" Natsu tried to make her see reason, he didn't want to see her sick any more than she wanted to be sick, but Lucy was stubborn.

"I'll wait for Wendy to heal me; I'm sure I can manage until she comes home."

If Lucy was going to have anyone help, she wanted it from Wendy. The sweet, young dragon slayer was always eager to assist anyone and far from being intimidating or dismissive, unlike the old dragon woman. No matter how well versed Porlyusica was in magical ailments and medicines, particularly potions, she had a hot temper and a dislike for humans, so it was best to take her in small doses.

"You never know, I might feel better by then." Lucy smiled at the fire mage in a weak attempt at easing his worry.

"If you say so, Luce." Realising he wasn't getting anywhere, Natsu sighed. He'd have to figure out another way to help her instead.

Once back in the living room, Lucy slumped onto the couch and smiled at the little one playing on the floor with Happy. The sight of Haru finally acting like his usual self again was enough to brighten her up a bit. He'd been perfect all morning—happy, playful and cheeky, just the way she liked him.

"Hey, Lucy, this'll cheer you up!" Happy gestured to the baby, catching both Lucy and Natsu's attention. "Right Haru, just like we practised, say, Mama!"

Haru looked over to Natsu, who was smiling encouragingly at him, and then to Lucy, who was waiting patiently. It was the one word, he'd been reluctant to say since he'd started trying to speak, but Lucy could hope.

"Mama. Go on, you said it earlier." The cat encouraged.

"He did?" Lucy asked, surprised to learn that she'd missed it.

"He sure did!"

The baby looked apprehensive, sucking on his fingers, it seemed he needed a little extra push now that there was an audience. Happy flew over to Lucy and pointed at her, repeating the word again.

With a smile forming on his face, Haru crawled over to Lucy's feet and yelled at the top of his voice, "Mama!" whilst attempting to clamber up onto her lap.

"Yay! You clever boy, you finally said Mama!" Lucy beamed, picking the little one up and supporting him to stand on her lap.

"Good job, little guy!" Natsu grinned, coming to lean over the couch where Lucy was sitting and pretended to high five the baby. "Next we gotta get you saying Happy."

"Yeah, then fish, then fishing, then yummy fish-"

"Naturally…" Lucy hummed sarcastically, rolling her eyes at the cat.

"Anyway, I think we better head off. What do ya say fella?" Natsu said, picking the small boy up from his mother and placing him on his hip. "I think this little guy can come with me to the guild. It'll give you time to rest and me some time to catch up with him."

"Oh, er… okay." She smiled, liking the sound of having a few hours to herself. "That'd be nice."

The young man smiled down at the pale girl and kissed her cheek, gesturing for Happy to follow him as he walked over and opened the front door. "Catch ya later, Luce!" And off he went, locking the door behind him, leaving the blonde in peace.

"Is Lucy gonna be okay on her own?" Happy asked, flying along beside the dragon slayer. "She's really not looking too good."

"She'll be fine, she just needs some rest, that's all. If she needs me, I'm sure Loke will sense it and come looking for me. Lucy's a tough one; she don't need us pandering to her and getting in the way." He dismissed it knowing fully that Lucy's 'sickness' didn't seem to be as simple as that, but alas, this was the best he could do for now.

The journey to the guild was a pleasant one as they strolled leisurely through the busy streets of Magnolia. Entering the bustling main hall, Natsu quickly slipped passed the unknowing mages drinking away at the bar, not wanting to be cornered by one of them, and made his way to the back room where Master Makarov was waiting for him. The old man had asked to see him about something and the fire mage hoped it wasn't about the destruction Haru had left yesterday. Without knocking, the boy with the baby and flying cat walked in, announcing his presence with a bright smile.

"Natsu, there you are! I didn't think you were gonna show." The short man perched himself on the table and gestured for Natsu to sit amongst the piles of papers that made up the man's office. "How's the little one today? I heard he's had a rough time of it recently?"

"Yeah, but he seems back to normal now. Don't ya, bud?" Natsu grinned at Haru, who'd been eyeing the old man's beard since they'd entered the room. The little boy grinned back and began repeating sounds like 'da' and 'ba' as if he were joining in on the conversation.

"Good, I heard about what happened. Magnolia's Mayor has been here all morning giving me an earful about some woodland that had been… decimated, I think he said. You wouldn't know anything about that now, would you, Natsu?" The old man stared at the young man, his brow and lip raised simultaneously whilst waiting for an answer.

"Well, Natsu?" Happy teased, revelling in the slayers fluster, finding it rather funny and in turn making Haru chuckle too.

"Er… I-I don't know what you're talking about… M-Must've been some one else?" Natsu's voice raised in octaves and he began to sweat profusely, not sure what hell awaited him for what his son had done. Was this now going to become a regular occurrence?

"That's what I thought." The Master said, smiling knowingly, a chuckle passing his lips at the state the fire mage was getting himself into and decided that was punishment enough for now. "However, I did mention that should it have been a Fairy Tail mage responsible, I would personally see to it so that it doesn't happen again."

"R-Right… Sure, Gramps." Natsu stuttered, thankful he wasn't going to suffer the consequences because little Haru had destroyed the woodland. It suddenly dawned on the poor dragon slayer that this was, in fact, almost definitely going to become a regular occurrence, he could just feel it in his bones.

The baby, not knowing the trouble he'd caused, had been too focused on the Masters facial hair and was reaching his chubby little hands out to touch it, but with no one paying him any attention, he did the only thing he knew would work—whine. It was a quiet little noise but enough to catch his father's ears.

"What's the matter, little buddy? Whatcha tryin' to reach for?" Natsu asked, following the baby's line of sight, landing on the old man's face. Furrowing his brows, the slayer looked back at the small boy, "You want Gramps' hat? Alright, kiddo."

The fire mage plucked the hat off of the old man's head, much to Makarov's annoyance, and gave it to the ten month old. Although not what he'd originally wanted, Haru settled for the strange item in his hands, sticking the material straight in his mouth and began to suck it, effectively stopping his whimpers.

"You know I expect that returned, without infant dribble on it?" Makarov stared at the clueless dragon slayer and sighed; who was he kidding? He was never going to see that hat again now that Haru had claimed it. "Oh, and before you head off, Natsu, there was another reason for calling you in here. A job has come through asking for you personally again. You're quite popular it seems." The Master gave him the request paper, watching the fire mages eyes light up with excitement.

"Awesome! This one better be cooler than the last one!" Natsu read through it quickly. It appeared to be the typical 'unknown monster raiding my garden, need help!' sort of request, a stupidly easy one by the looks of it. Reaching the bottom of the paper he saw in big bold writing: the reward. A figure so great, his eyes nearly flew out of his skull.

"Whoa! They're offering that much?" Happy exclaimed, not even knowing what to call a number with that many zero's at the end of it.

"Yes, they are willing to pay that much at the request that it is you, Natsu, that attends. Obviously you don't have to go alone, you can take whoever you want with you."

"Wait 'til I show Lucy the reward, she's gonna be so pumped! That money would last us forever!" He exclaimed, beaming with excitement, wanting to run home and show it to her right away.

Then like a ton of bricks hitting him all at once, he remembered.

Lucy…

As if reading his mind, Happy was the first to speak, "But, Lucy, she's not-" He whispered.

"Yeah, I know, Happy." He looked up from the paper and without any hesitation went to hand it back to the Master, a serious face replacing his excited one. "Sorry, Gramps, but I can't do it this time."

"That's not like you, my boy, is something up?" The bearded man asked, concerned for the fire mage. "What's this about Lucy? You can take her if you want, it's up to you."

"No, I don't think I can, Gramps. She's really sick at the moment and I don't know why." Natsu said sombrely, mindlessly stroking the infants back as his eyes faced the floor.

More time away from her and Haru was definitely not something he would consider; who knows how long this job would take? Taking her with him could've been an option if she'd felt up to it, but with her magic being all weird, he wasn't willing to take the risk.

"Yeah, she's been spewing her guts all morning and yesterday she could barely summon any magic without it tiring her out. What kind of illness does that?" Happy blurted out without thinking.

"Is that right? Have you spoken to Porlyusica about it yet?" Makarov asked.

"No… Lucy told me not to…" Natsu sighed, not knowing who else to turn to. "She said she'd wait until Wendy returned, but who knows when that'll be?"

"It'll be about a week before that happens. There are other doctors she could see in the town, but if it's affecting her magic then I doubt they'll be of much use. The only other option is you go to Porlyusica and ask her yourself, Lucy doesn't have to know you've been." Makarov could see it was getting the fire mage down; he'd always been fiercely protective of his friends and particularly Lucy. He absolutely loathed it when he couldn't make her feel better. "I'm sure it'll work itself out, my boy, Lucy's strong enough to get through it, whatever it is."

"Yeah, Natsu! Lucy's beaten worse than some sickness bug before, she'll be fine!" Happy chirped in, his eager expression popping up in front of Natsu's.

"Your right, come on then Happy, let's go. See ya, Gramps." Natsu feigned a smile for the old man and left the room, his lips dropping into a frown the moment the door slammed shut.

It wasn't that he didn't believe them, he knew Lucy could cope, that wasn't the problem. His issue with it all was that it didn't seem to be acting like any ordinary ailment. It affected things that it shouldn't and that made him feel even more incompetent than he already did, but worse than all of that, he felt helpless.

The dragon slayer was desperate to get some answers to what was wrong with his pretty blonde and there was only one way he knew he could do that. If he went to the old woman healer to ask for advise, that would go directly against Lucy's wishes; but on the other hand, could he really sit around and watch her suffer the way she had been?

If she would just let him ask for her like Gramps had suggested, she'd be better in no time. They'd even be able to go on that job together, he knew how Lucy was with money and that was one hell of a reward he'd just passed up.

All this crap was doing his head in, he needed some fresh air, some time alone to think things through before he made any rash decisions. Happy had wanted to stay behind at the guild. Glad the cat could see he needed space, Natsu headed out of the door, ignoring his guild mates shout out to him, they were but a buzzing sound amidst the chaos in his brain. Not up to explaining it all to them, he continued forward, legs guiding him towards the park.

It'd been hours, well, it'd felt like hours since he'd been sat there, in the same spot, entertaining the little one who was playing in the grass. Haru had a way of making everything bright in the dullest of moments. His little face was so cute and his smile so happy, it was hard not to mirror. Seeing the world through the infants eyes was both refreshing and simple, with everything so new and exciting, Natsu found himself getting excited for him. But that usual happy, contented feeling had been duly quashed by everything else on his mind and it was starting to irritate him.

"Whatcha got there? A stick? If that's really what ya wanna play with then go for it, buddy." Natsu chuckled, watching Haru try to pick up a stick twice the size of him was a sight to behold, settling for munching on it instead, spurring Natsu into 'daddy mode'. "I wouldn't go eating that if I were you! That's gotta taste nasty and Mama's not gonna like it if she finds you with splinters in your mouth. Let's chuck it away and find something else to play with, how does that sound?" Natsu took the stick out of the baby's mouth and coaxed it out of his hold. Launching it in a random direction, he'd failed to notice the horror-stricken expression on Haru's face.

It began with a whimper, with his bottom lip jutted out and quivering, a full on wail came next, piercing the poor slayers ears, shocking him and making him wince. "Hey, no, don't cry! Daddy didn't mean to throw your stick away, er…" Struggling to find something to replace it, Natsu whipped his head in every direction, finally settling on giving his scarf.. "Here ya go, that's much better. You can suck on that as much as you want."

"Huh… So you do know how to parent, who'd have thought?" A low male voice mocked from above. Glancing up, Natsu saw none other than the ice-make mage himself standing there, half naked as always, smirking down at him.

"Well, duh! That's because I am one!" Natsu rolled his eyes like Gray was the stupid one.

Huffing at his friends idiocy, Gray ignored him and sat down, greeting little Haru with a smile and a wave. "You're looking much better now little guy, everyone was worried about you yesterday!" Ruffling the baby's thick hair, the young man chuckled, in turn, receiving incoherent babbles back. "Although you on the other hand…" He turned to Natsu, "What're you doing out here by yourself? It ain't like you to want peace and quiet."

"What's that supposed to mean? I like it every now and then; there's nothing weird about that." Natsu had avoided eye contact with the raven haired mage since he'd sat down. He knew he was acting odd, but he just couldn't help it.

"When it comes to you, Flame brain, it's very weird. And you didn't answer my question." Gray knew something was up, regardless of how often they fought, they were very in tune with one another, some would say in a brotherly capacity. "If you're not gonna tell me, I could always guess? And from where I'm standing, it looks like something to do with Lucy, am I right?"

Natsu tsked, pretending not to be impressed by the half-naked man's insightfulness. Gray waited patiently for an answer, a smirk ever present on his face. But he received nothing from the suspiciously quiet Natsu, which, in itself, was his answer. "Right, so it's about Lucy, that's obvious. Did she finally kick you out?"

"What? No, why would she do that?" Confused, the pink haired man turned to his rival and knitted his brows together.

"Alright, well, I thought maybe she'd come to her senses, ya know." Gray cocked his brow up teasingly as he took great enjoyment in seeing the annoyance rise within the fiery tempered slayer. "Well, if it isn't that, then… huh… I got nothing… Just tell me why you're here, Natsu?"

"Well, why're you here, Snowflake? You don't have to be; you could always go bother someone else." Natsu bit back, not wanting this sort of interrogation and especially not from Gray Fullbuster, of all people.

"I could, but they're not as fun to annoy and I have my own reasons for wanting to see you."

The ice mage leaned forward to grab Haru and hold him in his lap, doing that funny baby talk thing and laughing when the infant responded. Natsu watched their small exchange, confused that Gray actually wanted to see him about something other than brawling. Intrigued, he waited for the topless man to start speaking.

"I actually came here to, er… well, apologise for something." He stuttered, placing his hand on the back of his head, whilst looking slightly embarrassed.

Natsu remained quiet, speechless in fact, not sure whether the guy was being serious or if this was some elaborate prank. Gray had never apologised to him before, so this was definitely a peculiar experience for the both of them, one to be cautious of.

"You don't gotta look at me like I've got two heads or somethin', I can be mature to admit when I'm wrong… sometimes." Gray added, not entirely keen on the shocked gawk he was receiving from the fire mage. "It's about yesterday actually. The way I reacted about helping Haru and our fight because of it; he's your son after all and it wasn't my place to say those things. I can't imagine how I made Lucy feel, she was struggling enough already without me making it worse. It was wrong of me to do that, so I'm sorry."

If he was being honest, Natsu had forgotten all about that, putting it to the back of his mind like he did with all of his bickering with Gray, it was the least of his worries at the moment. But the ice mage did have a point, their disagreement had gone beyond the boundaries of their usual rivalry banter, having brought not only Haru into it, but Lucy as well.

"I didn't mean to explode like that, I've kinda had a lot going on and I took it out on you guys." Gray added, his earlier smirk gone and mood now dampened.

Natsu could see the man was troubled; something was bothering his friend deep down under that hard exterior, but was reluctant to say what. He'd been eyeing him carefully; he knew him apologising smelt off and now he just needed to know why?

"Yeah, so quit broodin' and spit it out." Natsu said, not wanting to give away too much that he was concerned for his frenemy, but also completely clueless as to what he might tell him.

Sighing dejectedly, Gray answered, "Natsu, what's it like?" He couldn't bring himself to look at the fire mage, his eyes trained on the infant in his lap.

"What is what like?"

"You know, this." He gestured to the infant playing with his father's scarf, still comfortably sat in the ice mages lap.

"You mean having a kid?" Natsu asked, garnering the attention of said child when he spoke. "It's the best thing ever!" The young father exclaimed with his usual, vibrant enthusiasm, lightening the mood without even meaning too. "Why'd you wanna know?"

At first Gray stayed quiet, not knowing how to answer that question without it all becoming too real for him. He was worried for sure, scared of the unknown, not knowing if he was prepared enough for such a life changing experience, yet now, he really had no choice and it didn't take long for Natsu to cotton on to what was going on.

"Oh! I get it! You're just worried that your kid ain't gonna be as great as mine." Natsu smirked at Gray's dumbstruck expression, chuckling as he turned his attention to Haru briefly, "Did ya hear that kiddo? You're gonna have a new buddy to play with!" Sniggering, Haru gave one of his 'Natsu' grins and decided to crawl his way over and sit in his fathers lap instead.

"Whoa! Hold on a second! I never said that; who said I was having one? Maybe I was just asking out of curiosity?" Gray began fidgeting, his eyes shifting between Natsu's knowing eyes and his smug grin.

"Uh-huh… And if I were to go to Juvia right now…"

"No! Okay, you're right!" Gray panicked, waving his hands to stop Natsu from getting up. "Please don't do that, she didn't want anyone knowing until she felt well enough to return to the guild. She wanted to be there to tell everyone herself. Which is fine but what a pain it's been having to pretend she'd caught some weird bug on her last mission and that's the reason she hasn't shown her face recently."

"Why is she sick?" Natsu asked, curious to find out more. He didn't know a whole lot about what women went through when having a baby, he'd never experienced that with Lucy—they'd skipped that part. "The baby makes her sick?"

"Well, yeah, and a bunch of other stuff. It's like living with a bag of hormones at the moment. One minute she's normal, then she puking her guts out, then she's crying for whatever unknown reason. Honestly, man, I don't know where my head is at right now, I just can't keep up!" Gray sure did look frazzled, now that he had openly said it out loud, his own mood swings and weird behaviour made a bit more sense.

"Hasn't Juvia always been like that? Apart from the blowing chunks bit."

"I guess so, but now she's even crazier."

"Aren't you happy about it though? 'Cause I'm sure Juvia is." The slayer asked, curiously.

"Yeah, sure I am, but I'm terrified too. It's just weird ya know? And with her magic acting up lately, she hasn't been able to go on any jobs with me." Gray shrugged, not seeming too bothered by it.

"Wait, what did you say?" Natsu's mind had gone into overdrive the moment those words left the demon slayers mouth. "The baby… It affects her magic too?!"

"Yeah, it drains her, makes her sick and tired. Although, Porlyusica said that's a symptom that eventually wears off." Gray said, eyeing the dragon slayer as his eyes became like two saucers, a gaping mouth to match. "What? Did I say something?" Not having a clue what was going on, the ice mage stared at his friend, not knowing what he'd said wrong.

"N-No, it's, uh, L-Lucy, she's… I gotta go!" The pink haired boy hopped to his feet and as quick as lightning he was in the distance, yelling his thanks behind him.

"Wait, Natsu! You never told me… what was wrong with Lucy?" Already out of sight by the time Gray had finished speaking, he sighed and shook his head. "That idiot…" He muttered under his breath, ignoring the horrified stares of the people around him as he took himself out of the park, never looking down to see that he'd lost his trousers now too.

[vulpesse-arc]

au verses added  /  updated  /  still in the work  !

♡     ⸻     𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐚𝐮:   a woman with neither past nor future,  she is lamentably part of an ancient lineage of servants and gisaengs who never bothered to fight for a better present,  for a brighter future.  even in the current day,  with naught but few houses still working in the business of entertainment,  that’s where she has grown up and that’s where she will die:  there is no need for humans in the chambers where she dances and sings and performs,  for humans break easily and can never be truly fixed  ;  what is needed is a doll,  one that can be torn apart just as many times as it is necessary to do so,  only to easily put her jagged pieces back together.  but what happens when the doll becomes a monster,  a half-monster  ?  ever since the entity took residence in the depth of her mind,  ahri understood that this was her one and only chance to be more than a fragile little woman wearing garments of silk and velvet:  this was her one and only chance to have others beg at her feet.  and thus,  with a subconscious much too twisted and fragmented to be wholly dominated by the entity,  ahri is slowly learning how to control her monstrous self,  her freshly birthed desires,  her vicinity to the freedom that she has dreamt of for the entirety of her life.     

***   [   i miss my sweet home oc a lot but i don’t think i have time to be on so many blogs at the same time so this felt like the best solution to my love & adoration for this media  !  obviously,  ahri’s monster form revolves around the features of the nine tailed fox:  when she is only partially transformed,  she will have a constantly changing amount of tails and only when she will be wholly transformed,  will she actually resemble the beast of the myths.   ]

♡     ⸻     𝐏𝐒𝐘𝐂𝐇𝐎-𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝐚𝐮:    a criminally asymptomatic woman,  who once foolishly dreamed of becoming a famous pop singer:  unfortunately,  due to the inability of the sibyl system to properly scan and categorize her value and thus decide on a path for her,  ahri soon became an achromatic ghost in a colorful society where everything was strictly and ultimately decided by the artificial mind & heart of the city.  thrown to the side and cruelly shunned by everyone around her,  ahri struggled for many years,  fighting against an impending sense of doom and drowning in an ever-haunting loneliness,  searching for a place in which she could finally be herself,  a place in which her colors could have shone as bright as those of anyone else.  in the end,  she found what she had been looking for in the illegal underground,  where anyone willing to oppose the dictatorship of sibyl gathered.  there,  she started performing for her “comrades”,  donning a fox mask in pursuance of concealing her real identity and focused on gathering as much information about the system as she could  ;  with her knowledge about technology and especially drones / bots,  she built herself a little family of artificial foxes that now serve as spies,  defenders and even hunting beasts.  although she does not have a real purpose in her life,  she is continuously searching for new stimuli and experiences,  intoxicated by the awareness that she can easily avoid the lethal shots of the dominators thanks to her curse,  thanks to her blessing. 

♡     ⸻     𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐚𝐮:   a creature of old,  one that hauntingly lingers in the most ancient of legends and in the most gruesome of tales narrated to naughty children before their bedtime:  ahri is an ancient creature,  a fox who has lived long enough to accumulate an enormous amount of mystical power within herself and who is now capable of freely molding her physical self at will.  her little home,  situated in the heart of an “enchanted” forest,  is rarely treaded ‘pon,  for the inhabitants of the nearby villages have yet to forget and move on from the inhumane screams that sometimes echo throughout the entire land.  in order to earn her favor and hopefully soothe her childishly irritable disposition,  each month the villagers leave jewels and incenses and books and exquisite fabrics in the outskirts of the forest:  truth to be told,  she does appreciate these little offerings a lot.  believed to bring good luck to lovers and dismay to hunters,  it is not too unusual for desperate lovestruck souls to seek for her help,  for the miraculous love potions that she is said to be crafting...  unfortunately,  one may never know which side the fox will take,  nor whether she will be willing to help or not.  despite her desire not to engage with the power plays between the royals and the grisha,  she is not against the idea of lending a hand   /   for the right price,  of course. 

***   [   ahri is ancient and capricious,  someone who has observed the world change from the comfortable safety of her little forest.  despite her innate hostility towards humans,  she is easily intrigued by the desires and goals of others,  especially if they are harbored by peculiar hearts:  the only way not to be eaten by her is indeed this,  to pique her attention.  she could be a valuable ally,  but is it really a good idea to trust a fox  ?   ]

♡     ⸻     𝐈𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐂𝐘𝐂𝐋𝐄 𝐚𝐮:  tba,  because i’m really struggling with this.  on one side,  she could easily be a “werefox”  (  since we canonically have werecats in the novels  )  but i don’t know if this sounds interesting...  or,  maybe she could simply be a spirit who has taken on a humane physical appearance to mingle with mortals  ?  still thinking about this,  might even re-read the books to see if i get any sudden inspiration.  one thing that i might work with is the fact that in the first book,  it is said that “The Spine was one of the only places that King Galbatorix could not call his own. Stories were still told about how half his army disappeared after marching into its ancient forest. A cloud of misfortune and bad luck seemed to hang over it.” so maybe that’s where ahri resides  ?  far from everyone,  in her own little realm,  ready to eat anyone who dares interrupt her peace. 

♡     ⸻     𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐚𝐮:   an ancient and malicious sorcerus hailing from the forgotten kingdom of ashkahi,  ahri has sacrificed her humanity in the name of the moon and his cult in pursuance of earning the abilities to manipulate the hearts and souls of others.  once her beloved home was lamentably eradicated from existence by the falling of the deity’s skull,  she began traveling across the world,  earning riches and breaking hearts and painting her hands in red whenever the situation called for it  ;  left without a purpose and without a hearth to ever come back to,  the soulless woman began to ultimately lose herself,  becoming naught but the selfish and hollow ghost of who she once was.  things,  however,  changed once she was requested to become part of the red church.  even though she currently does not appreciate the ones who rule over the church,  she remains loyal to the murderous cult of the mother...  waiting for something to happen,  for a reason to finally breathe again.

♡     ⸻     𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐚𝐮:   a coordinator with a dark past,  ahri is continuously struggling to find her place in the world.  after leaving floaroma town,  she and her vulpix were scouted by the team galactic with deceitful promises to create together a better future for everyone.  she fought hard and did her very best to blindly obey to every order that she was given but after the first real defeat of their leader,  she ended up abandoning the team out of all-devouring guilt.  in order to try and cleanse her hands from all the crimes that she had naively committed,  she started traveling from one region to the other,  capturing new friends,  strengthening her own mind and slowly growing interested in the world of contests:  rather than relying on violence,  these contests relied on beauty and grace and that felt like the fastest way to move away from all the pain and ache that she had previously caused.  currently, she is pursuing a career as a coordinator and is chasing the dream of spreading the traditions of the pokemon festivals across the other regions, as well  ;  her couple of ninetales has become two of the hardest foes to defeat in the field.

more tba. 

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness Chapter 69

This arc. Arc four is the shortest arc. But it blurs a little bit into three and five so depending on how you want to cut it, it isn’t. But it probably is the shortest. It’s also my favorite I think. Of the arcs I’ve written so far.

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(Ruby PoV)

I brushed a comb through my hair. I wanted to look at least decent for when I saw Jaune again. What? Just because I could bullseye you from a thousand yards doesn't mean I didn't like girly stuff. One of those things was looking nice for my boyfriend when I visited him in a military psychiatric hospital.

I grinned wolfishly at the mirror. I didn't have a lot of hair to comb through like Yang or Weiss but I had enough to drag a brush through and make it look a bit neater. Speaking of Weiss, she came by and leaned at the corner of the wall in the bathroom. Her hair was still down and not up in its braided ponytail. I turned away from the mirror to actually look at her.

"What?" She asked. She looked beautiful with her hair down but she probably wasn't planning on coming to see Jaune like that. It just wasn't in the cards for her.

"You're not coming with me to see Jaune?" I shot back.

"He likes you, remember?"

"He liked you first," I retorted. "All freshman year, remember?"

She sighed. "I don't want to overwhelm him. He's probably going through a lot as it is. He doesn't need whatever is going on with me to add to that." She waved a hand at herself.

"That you like him," I cut through.

"Yes, Ruby. That I like him." She sounded a touch exasperated.

"Don't you want to tell him how you feel?" I asked.

"I-I suppose..."

"Come on. Let me do your hair." I guided her in and sat her down by the bath and ran my fingers against her scalp. She sighed back into my touch and I let a grin stretch my face. I started to do up her enormous plait.

"It's just so confusing."

"No it's not," I said. "The only thing left to see is if you like him back. And you flirted with him occasionally in Mistral."

"In Mistral…" she repeated. "I just don't want to confuse him."

"But what if you don't have the chance to tell him how you feel again. Think about how stressed you were before you told me how you felt."

"Ruby…"

"You don't want to let this opportunity slide by, even if he's stressed out it's not like having you like him will make things worse."

"Easy enough for you to say. You've already slept with him. And I've already kissed you. It's fairly clear we both like you while it's not so clear that he and I would work out."

"I've just slept with him three times."

"Just three times you say. Forgive me. I didn't mean to blow it out of proportion," she said sarcastically.

I kissed her on the lips with a bit of passion before I went back to doing her braid. "It'll be alright."

"And you're okay with all this? Sharing him? Sharing me?"

"Of course." I was raised by Yang and my dad so maybe my view of love was more relaxed than Weiss's. She was raised up here in Atlas where things were more strict. To me, love was love. It was about sharing and being shared. Nothing about this was crazy to me. I liked what I liked what I liked. And I wanted it, too. "You're alright with sharing me with him."

"W-well yes," she agreed.

"Then don't worry about it. You're stressing way too much."

"But what if he says no."

"Why would he say no? He flirted back with you in Mistral if what you told me is true. He had a crush on you first. Even before all that business with Pyrrha happened. So why would he say ‘no?’"

"What if he wants to be monogamous with you. What if he's not poly." Weiss came out and said it. The big humdinger.

"Then why would he have flirted with you in Mistral?" I countered. And I didn’t really blame him for it if he did. I wasn’t mad.

She sat in silence while I did her plait. I bobby pinned it up as I worked my hands through her long beautiful hair. I squealed a little and wanted to squeeze my face into the silky mass.

"We just need to be open with him. He'll understand. I'm fairly certain he won't be upset that another beautiful girl loves him. He'll probably just be like 'I hate myself and I don't deserve it.' He's like that a bit. We just need to shut that down."

"You've thought about this a lot," she accused.

"Not really," I responded. "That's just how he is, he loathes himself, sometimes. And it's how we could be. All together. I love you Weiss. And I love him. What's wrong with that? What's complicated about that?"

"It's just a whole person to be added to the mix. And you weren't ready before."

"But I promised you I would be ready eventually."

"And that's now?"

"Yes. I'm fairly fast, in case you haven't noticed. It helps that I have him back. I was worried about him. He was alone stewing in whatever happened to him for real. He was off dealing with Salem's mind control by himself, even if we didn't know about it yet. But that's over now. We're going to keep him safe, you and me."

"You make it sound so easy. It's not. It's three people. All with their own desires. That's about as complicated as it gets. Plus you have no idea how to help with the mind control piece."

"You're stressing about nothing until we talk to him."

"It has been a long time…"

"Just a month or so," I returned. "That's less time than you spent with him in Mistral."

"You're too excited for this."

"Why wouldn't I be excited? I get to be with both my best friends."

"If he likes me back," Weiss amended.

"You're still worried about that?"

"It's kind of a big hang up, Ruby."

"He likes you. I promise. What's not to like about you?"

"I'm uptight. I worry too much. I'm an overthinker."

"Now you sound like Jaune did before he admitted we were a couple. Maybe I've got a type." I sighed.

"Jaune and I aren't that similar," she protested. "That's kind of what I'm worried about."

"You're both overthinkers. You're both super smart," I disagreed. "You have more in common than you think, Weiss. I think so, at least."

"Really? I always thought he was a bit like you, Ruby."

"Impatient?" I asked.

"Energetic and a touch clumsy," she corrected, a small smile quirking her pink lips.

"Huh," was all I could manage. We sat in relative quiet as I worked for a moment. She hummed back into my touch. She had a lovely singing voice. I could stand to hear it more.

"And now that he's got that real confidence and honesty behind him I always thought he was… well, you know."

"Hot?" I asked. He was a little.

"You see it too, then."

"You should just wait until he kisses you. Now that's hot."

I watched Weiss rub her legs together a little. "And you're alright with that? You'd be onboard with me kissing him."

"For the hundredth time, yes!" I wanted to shake some sense into her. They were both my best friends. I wanted to share them. "It's not so complicated. It's just one more person, like you keep saying."

To be honest the thought of watching Weiss and Jaune kiss was about the hottest thing I'd thought of in a bit. It made me shudder a little.

"We should see how he is first. He might not be in the best place mentally for it."

"But when he's ready we'll snatch him up, you and me."

She wrapped a hand over my neck and turned me to kiss her. Her tongue dove forward a little and I let it into my mouth. I moaned into the kiss. It felt like everything was going to be okay. For the first time in a long time I really felt it.

"Weiss…" I whimpered. "I need to finish your braid…"

"What's the hold up?" She whispered against my lips. "Are you distracted?" She teased me.

I whined a little and clenched at her hair with both hands. She groaned a little as I pulled gently on her platinum threads.

"Maybe a little." I confessed, desperately. "Let me finish!"

She turned back away from me with her face pink. She was breathing hard enough to make her chest heave. For all my sister's teasing about Weiss's modest chest size, I liked it. Her breasts swelled up at me as she panted from our long kiss.

She was only in her morning wear so I thought I could see the tips of her breasts hardened in the early yellow light. I was no better with my heart beating fast, hammering away in my chest at my ribs. The way she made me whine was enormously domineering.

It was so unbelievably attractive.

I desperately tried to remember where my fingers were and finish up her braid. My hands were trembling more than a little. I slowly got my breathing back under control. My face was as red as my cape in the mirror.

It took a moment to get myself under my own command but eventually I succeeded.

A knock came by the open door. I turned to see my older sister. "Yang?" I asked. I put the last tie in Weiss's plait. "Are you coming to see Jaune too?"

"Yeah, Blake and I both are. I talked her into it. Jaune turned himself and the relic in. That counts for something."

"Thank you Yang." Weiss tucked her hair behind her shoulder and stood up. "I was worried that this would divide us."

"Yeah well it still might," Yang said. "Jaune is a criminal now. Plus he was working with Neapolitan. He better have a good reason for that. For both those things. Let's be honest, I want Jaune on our side, his power and strength are awesome, but I don't know if I can trust him. Especially with the mind control stuff."

I sighed and nodded. I was grateful for Yang coming at us honestly. I was willing to bet the reason was good enough for Jaune, but would Yang agree? I wasn't sure.

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Jaune looked good. Tall with little blue diamond piercings like his eyes. His hair was done up in a spiky messy fashion that made him look dashing. His armor was under black clothes and he had a touch of red where Pyrrha's sash was tied to his arm and he had this little half cape to him too that made his silhouette look slick.

None of the others had brought up his outfit change. It hadn't been as important as other topics but it was there and Jaune looked good-enough-to-eat in his git-up. And if I had it my way I would.

He sat down with us just at a table within the hospital behind double locked doors like an airlock. Someone would have to let us out and the double doors ensured that none of the patients could escape, should they try.

"Ruby, Weiss, Blake, Yang." He nodded with a charming smile. "It's good to see you again."

"Jaune." I embraced him deeply. His wide frame wrapped me up easily. I inhaled his familiar smell wildly. Crisp spice and something else, something torched.

I had missed him. It dragged tears from my eyes which I wiped away.

"How are they treating you in here?" Weiss asked.

Jaune waggled a hand. "Eh. About as good as I could reasonably expect considering the liability I constitute. If I meant business, I'm not sure that those doors could stop me."

He'd probably been analyzing the exits. It was instinct for a hunter like him. He was trapped and he knew it. But he was trapped by his own code as much or more so than the actual doors.

"Jaune you have to tell us everything. What happened to you?" I asked. "What happened at Haven?"

"I killed Ren and Nora. Salem made me do it but I still killed them," he confessed. "She then called me to bring the relic to her. I… I know where she is. At all times. It's like an instinct. I can feel her."

"Are they giving you medication for that?" Weiss asked.

"They're trying to bring my psychosis under control. They have no idea how to deal with the Salem stuff."

"But they're related. Salem's causing it," Blake said.

"That's right. I'm skeptical about any treatment they give me. They're giving me all kinds of sedatives to relax me and they've got me on antipsychotics." He leaned back in his seat and kept one arm around me. "Propanalol and Clonazepam to help relax and then something called Asenapine for the delusions and hallucinations."

"Is it working?" Yang asked.

He shook his head. "It's too early to tell."

"But you don't think it will." Blake murmured. "You think what Salem's doing to you can't be cured."

"Right. I'm being mind raped." He had a lazy half smile. He looked consigned.

I flinched a little. And Weiss shuffled slightly in her blue and silver outfit. She rubbed one arm with the other.

"You're not being mind raped." I said. "Right?"

"She sends me nightmares and I have to deal with her hallucinations. She's attacking me all the time. She wants the relic and Ozpin dead again. She’s my head all the time like ‘do it. Kill them. Bring it to me.’ That sort of ominous bullshit. You can only say ‘no’ so many times and so many ways. It's… it's a lot to deal with."

"But you're fighting. You can resist her," Yang said.

"I'm not sure. If I hear her voice again for real I'm afraid I'll have to obey her. That's what happened last time."

"But so long as you don't hear her real voice you're alright. You're safe." I tried to confirm.

"Maybe. It's a struggle to not give in to her whispers. I hear it all the time."

"You said that you were using Marijuana to help with that. Are you still?" Weiss asked.

"They took that away from me. I'm lucky I'm in a hospital and not behind bars."

"You attacked Atlas. Set some prisoners lose when you were Cloud Strife." Yang murmured. "Burned down a building and did worse besides."

"I was working for an information broker in the city. I was looking for the maiden here. I found out that your sister, Weiss, visits the same bunker every day. Ever since Beacon fell. I'm betting the maiden is there, Tyrian brought her up before I killed him."

"She is," Weiss breathed. Blake nudged her. "What? He already knew."

"These are the kinds of secrets we can't share with him just yet. He's a liability," Blake hissed.

"You said Cloud Strife. Is that your alter ego?" I asked. "Would you rather we call you that? It's a pretty name."

"Maybe. Jaune Arc was given to me by Salem or Merlot. I'm really not attached to it. Kind of disgusted by it to be honest."

"We'll support you. Whatever you decide."

"Thank you. And Cloud does have a nice ring to it, let's roll with that," he smiled.

"You were also working with Neapolitan. She attacked me. She tried to kill me," Yang said.

"She wanted revenge against Cinder and I happened to run into her. Our agendas aligned and her powers are useful," Cloud shrugged. "I won't lie, she's a bit of a monster. But then so am I."

"You're not a monster," Weiss murmured.

"No?" He asked. "I've killed people. I've tortured people."

"I've tortured people, well a person," Weiss said. "You're not alone in that."

"And I've killed people. Lots of them." Blake muttered.

"I was made in a laboratory out of Salem's cells by a mad man. Pretty sure I qualify. You should have seen my father's other experiments. I found where I was born, this incubator. Did you know that I'm only four years old? Because I didn't. He grew me until I was almost an adult and then sold me back to Salem then she had me sneak into Beacon. All of my dreams, all of it was fake."

"But you had memories. Remember Shion? Remember your sisters?" I asked.

"Fake," he sighed. "Or wrong. Incomplete. My sisters though are somewhere out there. I couldn't find any notes on them in Merlot's laboratory but Salem mentioned them in Haven. She has my sisters, whoever they really are. I ran into their creator at this other laboratory, this man with a mustache."

"We ran into a group of girls. They were younger than you but their powers were like yours a little," Blake said. "They all had blue eyes and blonde hair. They were after the relic and attacked us in Argus. Could they have been your sisters?"

"Maybe. It's possible. I might recognize them if I saw them. Mother gave me a lot of memories, not all of them were outright wrong, some were merely half-true."

"Mother?" Yang asked.

"Salem. I meant Salem. Damnit." He hit the table with a fist.  I flinched back a little from the loud noise. He seemed oblivious to it. Running a palm through his spiky hair.

"How long are they keeping you here?" I asked.

"Well they did call it a three day hold. And mental patient or not it's nice to be held," he smiled a little. He rubbed his face with his hands. Hard. "Ah. They've got my weapon somewhere. I'd rather you all had it."

"We've got Ren and Nora's weapons, do you want them?" Weiss asked.

"No. Gods no. I don't. I don't deserve them. What did you do with their bodies, if I can ask?"

"We had them cremated." Weiss reached out and took his hand with one of hers. She rubbed gently over the back of his fingers.

He nodded. He was crying a little. "Thanks. For the best, that." He wiped his face again. His cheeks were turning red from it. He wasn't a handsome crier.

I looked over at Yang. She bit her lip and looked away from me. I don't think she felt any anger towards Jaune, or Cloud, rather. I don't think she felt anything other than sorry for him. Blake was rubbing the back of her neck and was gazing at the ground. Her stare had a thousand yards to it.  

I reached over and grabbed Weiss's other hand and she gave me a measured glance. She wasn't sure now was the time. I'd respect that if that was what she wanted. I just didn't want her to regret it.

"Blake, we should go…" Yang was watching us. "Unless you have any more questions for-um Cloud." She fumbled slightly towards the end.

"You don't have magic, do you?" Blake asked.

"Not past my semblance and a bit of dust I've been practicing with. Not that I know of, I should say."

"Then I think I'm out," Blake said. Yang nodded at her. Blake and Yang departed through the double locked doors of the hospital. That left Cloud and the two of us. "See you later, Cloud."

He nodded to them and looked between us. He inhaled a shaking breath.

"We have something we need to tell you…" I said. "Cloud, Weiss and I are together."

He breathed and nodded along. "I see. You like girls, then."

"Not quite. Neither of us do completely," Weiss murmured.

"I don't understand. I'm a dumbass so whatever it is you'd better spell it out for me," he gave me a brave smile. It was weak underneath. He was scared.

"Cloud…" I mumbled. I rather liked it. It was a good name. It was his own and not Salem's. I thought it was an encouraging sign of his independence. A rose by any other name smells just as sweet anyways. "I love Weiss. And I also love you."

"You dumb blonde, you're not stupid." Weiss said to him fondly. "I'm well- I love you too." Weiss finished. "And I love Ruby. I'm not sure if you're poly or open to that…"

"I don't want to lose you," I told him while I held his hand. I let some tears flow. " But I need Weiss as well. I can't do it without her behind me.  So will you give the three of us a try? When you left we kissed and I realized how much I wanted her. I... I need you too though. I told you that at the Golden Saucer. I meant it. I can't choose. Please don't make me choose. "

Cloud leaned back and exhaled. "My heart… from what you started with I thought it was going to be bad news…" he still looked almost scared.

"I take it that this isn't bad news?" Weiss asked. "Don't tell me you're afraid of our wants." She laughed a little but she was desperately watching his face. She wanted to know. She wanted to know what he felt. I did too, but I was less scared.

"No. Its-its fine. I'm open. I'm willing to try, just wait for me to get out of here. Alright? We'll be able to talk more."

"You think they'll let you out and not put you in prison?" I wondered.

"No way. They'll want me out in the field. The things I can do... They'd be foolish to put me away. And no prison could hold me anyways." He smiled weakly at us.

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-WG

[teeztheflag]

Wolf!Ateez Reaction to mating season with their human!mate who doesn’t know they are werewolves

warnings: strong language, smut, dirty talk, oppa kink, unprotected sex, impregnating, bondage, slight possessive behaviour

a/n: again not linked to the other reactions, some of them are wearing contact lenses to hide their changing orbs so their s/o doesn’t recognize

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂ kim hong joong ▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

As Hong Joong was a alpha the mating season really had a strong effect on him linked to the goal to bear strong pups for a future leader. You being his human mate and totally unaware of your boyfriend‘s ability to change into a wolf and being more sensitive wondered why he again avoided you this time of the year. It happened the last two years, too. You just thought it was a phase where he had to work a lot and simply didn’t have much time left, also not sleeping at home but in an apartment closer to his work, much to your dismay.

The problem was, extacly in this time you also felt different. You endured much more mood swings and missed him a lot. Also your craving for that one thing put you on edge. As soon as you tried to give Hong Joong the signals that you wanted to become private with him he immediately resisted your flirting and left with the most hilarious excuses.

Since two weeks Hong Joong thought your heat ended by now and decided to settle in with you again. Late night he worked downstairs in his office when he heard your little moanings. Gripping the papers tight his eyes closed without his intention and he felt the growing bulge in his pants that ached painfully against the material.

Fucking shit.

His body moved on his own when he followed the small sinful sounds upstairs to your shared bedroom. A delicious smell filled the corridor and he stopped in front of the door. Meantime you were shamelessly touching yourself totally unaware of the werewolf behind the door that listened to his mate.

„Fffuckkk, ngahhh... Jooooong!“

It was just too much for him by now, knuckles going white at how strong his grip was on the door handle. He literally threw the door open with so much force that had you jumping up very shocked. Besides the embarrassment of being caught pleasuring yourself something intrigued you definitely more... Hong Joong‘s eyes weren’t their normal color but changed into a deep golden.

„I could only resist this much...“

▂▂▂▂▂▂ park seong hwa ▂▂▂▂▂▂

Seong Hwa has always been a controlled wolf with a high will to protect you at all costs so he also tended to leave you in mating season. It wasn’t a secret that you were probably a little clingy to your tall boyfriend, always happy when he came home or picked you up from somewhere. Your favorite place was in his lap and arms, Seong Hwa would lie if he denied that he didn’t like it, too. Of course you were his little angel and he didn’t want you to be scared of his real nature, well, that’s why he didn’t tell you about it.

Unfortunately mating season was the most painful experience for him within the year, because you being whiny and so desperate cried the whole time he left you alone. He felt bad, his animal instinct telling him he should make you feel better especially because you didn’t know why you felt this way...

It all changed when he he received a call from you that you had hurt yourself and couldn’t move. Seong Hwa immediately panicked at the thought of you being injured and drove to your house as fast as he could.

„Y/N?! Where are you, angel?!“ He searched every room for your form but when he opened the door to your bedroom he knew you tricked him.

„Oppa, I missed you...“ There you were placed on your knees on the fluffy blankets a pink lace lingerie decorating your curves and inviting Seong Hwa to just take you here and now.

„Y/N...“ Oh no, he felt his wolf urging him to do something and closed his eyes to concentrate on anything other than your sweet arousal that was dripping down your thighs. How desperate have you been to be this wet already? He’s such a bad mate...

„Pl - please, I am begging you! Take care of me... I miss you so much and my body is burning it - it‘s almost painful!“

You started sobbing in front of him, this definitely was enough. He took a hold of himself and emerged your form with confident steps.

„I am so sorry, angel... Oppa is never going to leave you like this anymore.“

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂ jeong yun ho ▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

Yun Ho usually was a very happy and positive person in every matters and when it came to your heat he really had his fun. Usually he tried to wear contact lenses in your presence and preferred to only pleasure you the whole season. This way he wasn’t able to lose control so easily because when you were satisfied in your needs his urge to let his wolf take control faltered.

Again this time he didn’t have problems with hiding his secret by to eating you out on the kitchen table when in real you just wanted to prepare the breakfast together. What he definitely didn’t plan were your next words.

„Yun Ho! Oh my gosh, y - you are sooo good in this! Ahhh...“

Of course he was, everytime he used the opportunity to try out new techniques and he enjoyed it maybe a little bit too much waiting for your reactions because of flicking his tongue in another way. And you tasted so good, the best dish for a good morning. Your needy moans and flinches only pushed him further to do his best and let him enjoyingly hum at your sensitive bud.

It was expected that the oral sensation you were receiving couldn’t date you forever... so after feeling your third orgasm coming through you knew something more had to be done.

„Yun Ho, I - I want you...“ His eyes widened at your unsteady statement and he pulled away from your entrance licking his lips off your digits in the process. He looked to the ground an debated.

Come on... only this time! Look at our beautiful girl! She needs our dick!

Stupid wolf, but maybe now the right time was?

„Yun Ho! Please, do something!“

„Shhh, Y/N. You really want this, huh?“ You nodded dizzily at him still feeling the sparklings of your orgsam.

„Huh, then use your words and I will give you everything you want!“

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂ song min gi ▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

To be honest, Min Gi became exceptionally frustrated at mating season. It wasn’t easy for him to refrain his outgoing mate, because you indeed had to endure heat pulsings that were enormous. He already asked his friends about their human mates and how they coped with the situation. But he knew you weren’t like the other girls and needed a special treatment.

To say it bluntly, you became a brat during mating season and Min Gi was clearly sick of holding back to fuck some sense into you. Eventually his wolf was exhausted after some time and Min Gi had to bondage you to the bed because you just didn’t stop grabbing his cock and kissing his neck.

„Why are you like this?! What man let’s his girl hang on when she’s needy? Since three weeks you’re avoiding me! Now let me free and I will just find a guy in a bar tonight!“

Another man touching his mate? How delusional of her. Of course you didn’t really meant it but mates could be easily triggered also if you were human. Your sexual frustration made it to a point where touching yourself wouldn’t help anymore.

„Say that again.“ Min Gi leaned over your sweaty form on the bed and heavy breaths left his mouth. You could swear you saw a slight growth of his teeth but pushed away the thought immediately when he screamed at you.

„SAY THAT AGAIN!“

„Min - I didn’t mean to - “

„Little brat! It’s time to punish you for being so disrespectful!“

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂ kang yeo sang ▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

Yeo Sang was quite shocked his mate turned out to be human knowing exactly what that meant for his primal instincts. He didn’t know how the first season with you would turn out but he didn’t want to hurt you at all costs. Wolves could be quite violent during sex and especially their heat with their partners so he sticked to getting out of your sight everytime he could make out the gorgeous scent of your body like some of the others did with their own human mates. Usually Yeo Sang managed to skillfully change into his wolf and run back to his pack where he would be safe from your eyes. You on the other hand found yourself often searching the house for your missing boyfriend sometimes only finding a quick note from him.

Today you already awakened with sticky clothes to your body exactly knowing it was this strange time of the season again. It happened regularly throughout the year you thought Yeo Sang looked especially cute or even hot, only a little eye blink with his beautiful lashes letting a chill run down your spine.

Watching him deliciously eating his pasta you couldn’t stop thinking about how his lips would feel on your body but you knew he acted different this morning, too, meaning nothing good for your desires...

You carefully stood up pretending to get something from the kitchen when you made a swift move and landed on his lap. He layed down his fork and looked at the wall ignoring you hard.

„Sangie...“

„I am not in the mood.“

He pushed you off and ran to the bathroom and closed the door. You followed him slightly pissed and banged against the door yelling his name and asking what the fuck was wrong with him again. You heard some shuffling and then nothing?

„Yeo Sang? What’s wrong?“ You could’ve swear the window was open so you speeded outside to look for yourself and indeed it was. Your anger raised and so your heat. Something nudged against your leg und you tripped over and screamed fully at the large creature over your form.

„Oh my god! Please don’t eat me!“ You shielded yourself on the ground with your arms in front of you and just hoped it would leave you by. But instead it neared you and whimpered a little bit. You peeked our of your arms and gasped.

„Huh? A wolf?“ Yeo Sang couldn’t just run away when he smelled your heat in the forest and knew it became stronger by making you angry. In this form his wolf had a stronger will and his sense just doubled themselves making it unable to ignore your sweet fragrance and aura.

The bond pushed you to the wolf although you were totally scared but when you looked into his eyes something seemed familiar...

„S - sangie...?“

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂ choi san ▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

San didn’t hold back during mating season because your and his cravings for each other were natural for him. The only thing he was afraid of was the fact one day he had to tell you that he was a werewolf, at least when you would bear your first child for him and someday it would change in front of her eyes.

Anytime you got into heat the two of you nearly never left the house jumping on eachother all the time. He honestly tried to give you hints that he wasn’t like you at all. You just thought he was a beast in bed with all the growling and biting in your neck eyes always watery and mind blissful because of the high pleasure he gave you.

„Y/N! Baby, look at me! I want to see your pretty eyes when I am pumping my pups into you!“ Well, you thought he was kinky. Nothing more...

„Y - you’re wearing contacts lenses t - day? Ahh, fuck, San!“

He pounded endlessly into you holding your knees up with his warm hands in a tight grip. Sweat tickled down his forehead and already wettened his hair. He smirked, grunts leaving his parted lips and licking them at the sight of his mate in front of him. She was totally defenseless in his arms just like he wanted it.

Suddenly he stopped and leaned down to catch her questioning eyes with his.

„Look at me, those are not lenses.“

Just when he thought you would get the hint after some time of thinking and hard breathing passed you lifted one eyebrow.

„Oh shut up little delulu - now continue I was so clooooose!“

Maybe not this time, bro...

▂▂▂▂▂▂ jung woo young ▂▂▂▂▂▂

Woo Young loved your behavior in heat and so did his wolf. You often wear the most sinful lingerie for him and acted like a needy cat for your mate. He didn’t need to smell or feel your changing in demeanor to know mating season began and it definitely was the best time of the year for him. But you, too, didn’t know your boyfriend was unhuman, and he liked to keep it like that. He didn’t really was afraid you would find out but he put so much effort into the relationship to not let you find out about the destined pull it could destroy a lot.

As Woo Young was a quite sneaky and playful boy he found a good solution to let his wolf take control during the sex and to hide his secret. You just thought he had a really dominant phase once or twice a year and already looked forward when the play time came by again.

His best strategy to fuck you at night: turn the lights out and have you screaming his name until you didn’t thought about the marks all over you body the next day again, or at day time: his favorite thing to cuff your wrists and put on a blindfold.

You were to distracted by his sinful touches and praises to think about the fact this felt like a fifty shades scenario and you didn’t need to be embarrassed about your and Woo Young‘s kinky behavior because your boyfriend tended to exaggerate things more like you.

This one night you could remember he seemed to have put on orange looking contact lenses and pretended to be a ‚werewolf‘, it seemed like he put much effort into the costume as he really had something animalistic back then.

„My mate...“

„Oh god, fuck right there Woo Young! Deeper!“

„Tell me you’re mine!“

„I - I am yours Woo! Only yours, forever!“

You screamed out his name multiple times as he skillfully reached and penetrated the sweet spot deep inside you already poking against your womb. Woo Young could only chuckle at your naivety but also was thankful for it. Like this, he could keep his act on a long time without having to miss any little thing of a good mating season.

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂ choi jong ho ▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

It wasn’t surprising Jong Ho received a quite intelligent mate from the moon goddess and he had to admit he enjoyed watching you trying to figure out his unnatural strength and senses also like your own feelings.

It started with telling him you felt a much deeper love like for him like you ever did for your ex-boyfriends before and that she knew he was someone really special for her. The wolve‘s heart swelled at your words and confession but also he felt a little bad for not telling you the truth.

In private he called you his ‚soulmate‘ which you found utterly cute but Jong Ho knew it meant so much more. He wanted to help you to find out for yourself what he was and why you felt so different at mating season living through the most embarrassing cravings that you tried to hide from him.

He didn’t think it would be so hot to see you struggling because of his presence and he was just too good in hiding his own desire from you making everything really hard.

When you sat inside the big library of his and his friend‘s mansion you came across a book about mystic creatures. You blushed at the next words not daring to read any further when suddenly the door sprung open.

Jong Ho smelled your arousal outside in the garden and couldn’t resist to look after what caused your sudden hotness. He stood behind you and read the sinful things you just read on his own. He made a move to put you on his lap and stroked your hair with comforting motions.

„Why don’t you read it out loud?“ You shivered at his husky voice and wished you could get out of this situation.

„Th - the mating season makes both male and female mate craving and earning for the sexual release through their partners and...“

„And?“

„Jong Ho... this cannot be real right?“

A moan left your lips when he pressed a light kiss on your shaking lips and his eyes turned into a rich golden color.

[brideofcthulhu10]

Hey guys I'm gonna be out and about today but before I go out to town I thought I leave you with some little Laddie Headcanons! A special thank you to my co-writer @imlostinsantacarla !

Laddie Headcanons

Unfortunately, Laddie was a part of a home in which a divorce was in the process of being filed. There was an immense amount of tension in the family dynamic whilst his father and mother sought to gain custody of him individually as they were in the midst of a messy breakup. The young child’s grandparents were aiding his father in filing for custody over him as his mother was hell bent on having sole custody without any visitation rights.

It’s well known that Laddie’s face was on a milk carton in the movie, with the word ‘MISSING’ written above it. This is just primarily speculation, of course. However, why else would two parents who didn't care about their child put up missing person’s posters everywhere? It’s certainly obvious that his parents were deeply troubled and affected by their son going missing, in conjunction with being apprehensive over his safety as they had no idea where he was.

Whilst his father was attempting to gain custody of him with his grandparents' help, Laddie’s mother lost him one night whilst on the BoardWalk too busy getting drunk at a bar, which is how and where the boys found him. He was all on his lonesome, wandering the BoardWalk terrified. The sight sincerely pulled on their heart strings. Seeing a little kid lost in the dead of night searching for his mother desperately just did not sit well with them.

Armed with the knowledge that their fellow sister Star was having second thoughts over their lifestyle, David immediately took the initiative to coax Laddie into drinking his blood and turning into one of them. This was not only to provide the child with a home, but also a strategy put in place to keep Star close and have her fully commit to their way of life as vampires. After all, girls love kids, don’t they? Surely her maternal or big sisterly instincts would kick in and provide her with the drive to become a caring figure for the young boy whilst solidifying her place in their group. She’d already agreed to the terms, there was no backing out now!

The other boys come to a conclusion of agreement that this is the best option as they cared about Star immensely, least enough to put up a fight when she was considering leaving, and they could not just let a poor boy stay out on the streets with nothing. There was a high likelihood of him getting kidnapped, murdered or something far, far worse whilst he was out there on his own. So they made the collective decision to take him under their wings and into their home, promising him that he would always remain safe with them.

Graciously, as if it were a match truly made in Heaven, Laddie and Star got on swell. The wee boy clung onto her desperately as she truly did remind him of his own mother and how she once was when she was with his dad. Star also bears a resemblance to his mother physically, ensuring that Laddie would bond with her much easier. The boys could not have been more happier and celebrated their success.

And thus it was settled! The boys took Laddie to the hotel and turned him, buttering him up a little in order over the next several to gain his trust and comfort.

"So, Laddie, you like it here?” David smirked at the young boy sat on the edge of the fountain in the hotel.

“Yeah it’s super cool!” He beamed enthusiastically, dangling his little legs off the edge and swinging them back and forth, they barely even hit the ground.

"Would you stay forever?" David pressed further, blonde brow quirked up in intrigue.

"Can I?!" Laddie exclaimed with an enormous grin plastered on his childish countenance.

"Hell yeah little dude! We even have a pretty, cool big sister for you!" Paul interjected just as happily, patting the tiny guy on the shoulder.

"Really?!"

"Mhm," Dwayne added, "and you can play every night."

"And you can eat as much as you want without getting sick, dude!" Marko declared.

"So, Laddie, what do you say?" David asked, head cocked to the side as he watched the little runts eyes float from face to face.

He sits still for a moment... "Hell yeah!"

The guys cheered excitedly, Marko handing David some fancy looking bottle, who in turn passed it to Laddie. "All you gotta do now, is drink this."

"It smells funny. What is it?"

"Old grape juice."

All the while, when Laddie is missing, his mother is struck with excruciating bouts of grief and shame, and attempts to get herself into a better space. Overcoming the worry and guilt that she feels over losing her son through alcohol, drugs, whatever it was that had caused her to lose her son on the BoardWalk that night, is an incredible challenge. She felt she had let her son down as well as her previous marriage. It only spurs on Laddie’s father to find him and gain total custody of the boy.

Living with four rambunctious teenage boys is a handful in itself, so it’s not a wonder that Laddie swears like a sailor, a terrible habit he picked up from the boys. Yet his one sister attempted profusely to set a better example for him. David and Paul find it hilarious that Laddie has a filthy potty mouth, whereas Dwayne and Star aren’t a fan of his newfound language.

“Hey, watch your language, bud.” Dwayne states sternly, chocolate orbs glowering into Laddie’s smaller ones.

“Pussy!” Paul bursts out in between a false coughing fit.

Laddie truly adores reading comic books frequently. In fact, the Frog brothers knew Laddie far before they knew the Emerson’s, they just didn’t acknowledge the kid all that much since he was far younger than them. This was especially since they were far too engrossed in blabbering about vampires, their investment in their own stuff made it impossible for them to give an ounce of attention to him. In their eyes he was always just the little twerp that stood on his tiptoes at the counter in their parents store, sprinkling dollar bills on top of a fat stack of mad magazine, Batman, and secretly some horror comics stuffed underneath the other ones he’d picked out.

“ 'Scuse me, can I get these," Laddie inquired politely, his eyes peering up at the two brothers behind the counter arguing over what the best way to waste a vampire was.

“Uh, yeah sure kid, whatever.” Alan stated fervently, his eyes still plastered on his brother's brooding gaze.

Edgar stuffed them into a plastic bag without sparing the kid a glance. “$15.75.”

“Okay.” Laddie stated in defeat before scooting over a wadded up ball of a $20 bill onto the counter before collecting his change and leaving with his head hung low.

Laddie is still a sucker for comics and wants new ones on a constant basis, it’s certainly something that aids him in passing the time at the hotel. Yet Paul’s adamant that he isn’t going to pay those dorks at the comic book store a single cent from his pocket. And David is a master at mental illusions, so there is one hell of a team to concoct a way to steal comic books. Neither Paul nor David feel any shame in it. David will create the illusion that Paul is walking by the store, only to actually be stealing a stack of comics to keep the poor kid happy.

Star and her inability to part with her human nature and high morals, is never too thrilled about the entire ordeal of stealing comics for Laddie. Laddie sees nothing wrong with it and only responds with utter enthusiasm at how awesome Paul is because Paul can do whatever he wants! This leads to Laddie following in the footsteps of the other boys, believing that he can both take and have whatever he wants, whenever he wants it no matter if there’s real life consequences involved because he can use his gifts (with training from David) to acquire all of his desires.

It’s also a common occurrence for Laddie to experience homesickness; after all, he misses his parents dearly because even though they weren’t the most astounding or perfection parents, they were still his parents. When this occurs, he’ll often seek out Dwayne or Star for comfort, sitting beside them, perched into their sides. They will attentively listen to him, reminding him of how much they themselves and the other boys love him and how they aren’t going anywhere. They all will be together forever. They’d even let him know that his parents and grandparents still love him too, even if he has a new family now.

Laddie unfortunately had to learn the hard way not to go to David about this specific predicament, because whenever he did, David would unintentionally guilt trip the kid about missing his parents. It wasn’t something he meant to do, it was just that David had never really had a home or a family that cared about him, his world before being a vampire was a dog eat dog world. You had to fend for yourself and choose your family. Even then he’d seen people get chewed out for trusting the wrong folks. So there’s a huge disconnection between the pair when it comes to familial things.

Whereas Marko and Paul will do things that will take Laddie’s mind right off of the down parts of being a missing child. They’ll happily play with him, get him his favorite food, read comics with him, steal said comics from the comic book store, maybe even let him help them tinker on their bikes, blast some gnarly music, you name it! They’re prepared to go all out in helping him feel happier where he is in the present and understand that he has a place with them.

Now, as for Laddie’s tantrums… well, every child has them. Usually they tend to be pretty humorous to Paul, Marko and David- that is until something happens to their precious stuff. To be fair he is an eight year old boy, of course he wants to mess with Paul’s Walkman or Marko’s bike keys! Paul nearly had an aneurysm when he saw Laddie accidentally ripped his mint condition 1965 Playboy Magazine.

"Dude who the fuck- my fuckin- WHAT THE FUCK MAN?!"

Laddie, who had been a bit spoilt from months of pampering from a group of enabling teenagers, showed minimal signs of remorse. "They were ugly anyway, she hand on granny panties or something."

Dwayne had to step in and hold Paul back from wringing the kids neck out like a wet dish towel!  "Dude, Paul he's a kid"

"I will eat you, you little turd!"

Once again, David cracks up frequently until Laddie begins to delve into his stuff also. It all began when he wanted to go for a ride and David being the more lazy member of the group had turned him down, especially in a much firmer tone the second time around. So what did the little shit do? Hide all of their keys to their bikes.

"Dude, where are my fuckin' keys," Paul hissed, digging through the cave like a tornado went through the damn thing. 

"Yours too?" Marko exclaimed his question, settling down the couch he had lifted onto the ground. “Mine vanished.”

David chuckled to himself, that was until he patted his pocket where his precious motorcycle keys had suddenly proved to be void of its contents. "Alright which one of you assholes stole my keys?!"

However that confrontation ignited an inferno of a tantrum from the small boy, who was so used to suddenly getting his way and now he was faced with the harsh reality of being told no. The boys should have really thought twice of enabling an eight year old boy! A fit from a kid can get ugly real quick, yet it’s a whole different story when that kid is an emotional half vampire that flips tables and screams at such a volume and octave that glass cracks. Star tends to primarily be a softer disciplinarian, she isn’t fond of the idea of yelling or smacking him, she’s much too gentle for that. Dwayne on the other hand, while preferring to approach things along the placid route, feels that sometimes it’s a necessary evil- while David just straight up thinks that a good smack on the mouth ought to settle him down.

Laddie is a thorn in their asses when he’s bored out of his mind, and the boys learned rather harshly and swiftly that having a little brother was not as fun as the Brady Bunch had it appear. This kid got into all their stuff, no matter how fool proof they made it, the kid always found a way! He would follow them excessively around the cave like a lost puppy, tell them the same story for HOURS on end, ask far too many questions that Marko would just blank the kid out with his music, only for Laddie to talk even louder! It was more than evident that the child had little concern over the fact that they were killers, he’d still happily pester them until they vamped out. In fact, he went out of his way to do that! The crazy little shit…

Laddie would climb on top of one of the many dust caked couches in the hotel right next to where David was reading and peek over his shoulder to get a noseful of whatever he was focused on. "Whatcha reading?" Laddie asked innocently, chin resting on the blonde vampires shoulder.

"....War and peace." David grumbled irately.

"What's that? It's big! It looks boring! Why are the words so tiny? What's it about? Who's the hero? Who's your favorite hero? Mine's batman! Well, I like Iron Man too but Batman has all the gadgets and stuff, and I like his cape but I guess you don't need a cape to be cool, but I like the cape anyway- I like Superman's cuz it's red, red's my favorite color. What's your favorite color? Well I mean red's super cool- oh but black! Black is really cool, i guess you probably like black too huh? I mean you wear it all the time, but really maybe it's cuz-" he had blabbered all of that out in one go without so much as a breath in between his sentences! And David selfishly wondered what the repercussions were on if he flew the kid onto a random cliff and left him there for several hours. He knew it probably couldn’t be good, but it was worth a try if he was ever going to catch a break and get this book finished! Not to mention the countless times that Paul’s thrown into the mix of things, David can’t stomach it and leaves the room because he can’t handle two obnoxious chatter boxes all at once. Star yelled at him once for hypnotizing Laddie to fall asleep because he wouldn't stop talking about Batman and Robin.

It’s obvious that Laddie tends to ride with Dwayne, and it’s because Dwayne is capable of ensuring that Laddie stays in one piece. If the kid had his way and rode with Paul… let’s just say that Laddie would be smeared road kill! And frankly, none of the other vampires trust Paul with the kid. Last time he rode with Paul, he was nearly flung forward when he went off of a steep ramp. Star almost slapped the smirk straight off of Paul’s face! Even Marko thought it was a bad move of Paul’s. So, it was a collective decision - minus Paul’s whining and bitching, in conjunction with Laddie’s pouting - that Laddie rode with Dwayne from now on.

When the boys were killed off one by one, Laddie was the only one who was saddened by this, because he had formed genuine bonds with his older brothers and even though they weren’t perfect, they’d kept their word to him and kept him safe. He was going to miss Paul and Marko playing with him and teaching him cool stuff about bikes and rock n’ roll. He’d even miss David and the way the man got irritated whenever he flitted about him. But the one he was surely going to miss the most was obviously Dwayne. Dwayne was like the older brother that Laddie had dreamed of ever since he was a kid. Dwayne had taken him under his wing and ensured that no one messed with him. He listened to him whenever he was homesick and was always super patient with him and just all around compassionate. Out of all of the boys, Laddie related to him the most. And now he was gone. Though each boy held a special place in his heart. As he left the Emmerson residence, he didn’t have the stomach to look at their dead bodies as he sniffled on his way out, tears streaming down his face. Although they hadn’t been the best to Star and sometimes weren’t the kindest to him, he knew that they had loved the pair of them and deep down, Laddie would always love them.

After the entire ordeal, Laddie decided he’d set foot on finding his parents again and sadly left Star behind. She reminded him a lot of the boys and she would always have a special place in his heart. Before he left he hugged the life out of her, staining her gypsy purple skirt with his tears as he thanked her for loving him and taking such good care of him. He promised her that he’d never forget her and he hoped she never would forget him. Star was heartbroken but also knew that it was best for Laddie to return to his parents and live his life out normally. She hoped he’d grow up to be everything wonderful in life and she assured him that he would remain important and ever present in her gentle heart. A long way down the line they met each other again and embraced like close siblings that hadn’t seen each other in centuries. They were much older now and wiser.

But back to the present, Laddie stumbled upon his mother on the BoardWalk that night, as though it were a miracle. The woman looked strikingly similar to Star, she was the woman that he had remembered from earlier on in his childhood, and he was truly overcome with joy. He got to see his father again which made him happy also. Although his parents couldn’t work things out, they managed to come to a steady agreement that they would have equal joint custody of Laddie, which was something that made things easier on him to adjust back to ordinary life. However, whilst he was missing, his beloved grandparents passed away, never having lost hope in Laddie being alive and returning home someday. Laddie missed them dearly but he adjusted as best as he could to his brand new life. He was never really the same after being with the boys and Star and losing them all, his parents were aware of the change but Laddie never discussed what had happened to him, only responding in vague statements or exclamations.

Somehow though, he found a way to keep in touch with Star, Michael, Lucy, Sam and the Frog brothers. They were all connected through these twisted and sad chain of events, and his bonds with them only deepened as he got older. Even Though they had remained adrift in life, Star, Sam, Lucy and Michael showed up for Laddie's graduation when he finally got through high school. Even still he remained in Santa Carla up until his graduation dinner out with the Emmersons, Star and even the Frog Brothers had shown up. Wandering for a moment on his own, his pace slowed until he came to a haunting stop.

Just beyond the tilt-a whirl, outside the arcade, he swore, parked on the boardwalk he could see a group of biker boys. As the 80s peeled away into the wild teenage rebellion of the 90s, their styles had altered. A blonde still sported a wild lion's mane, another had messy curls grown out. The platinum blonde one was the first to alert the other three of Laddie's gaze. The four grunge rockers sported bizarrely skeletal motorcycles, laughing with each other, now carrying mischievous smiles. Before he could even confirm the haunting visage of said familiar faces they vanished in a flurry of roaring engines. The last to leave looked at him with dark, haunting brown eyes. He could see under the guy's leather jacket and torn up Nirvana t-shirt jagged scar tissue around each of his limbs faded into bronze skin. They just looked at each other for what felt like a lifetime, and a wave of chills trickled down his back. The raven haired biker smirked at him, no malice in his grin. Only a soft farewell, proud even. And then he was gone. Laddie managed to take a deep breath in, silently turning on his heel to return to Star and Michael at the diner. When he got home he was applying to a few out of city colleges, somewhere away from his past.

[wingedwarren]

city view

@untamedtempest   ||   meme

city view. our muses getting frisky up against a window.

     it had kind of been pure luck she had been home. perfect penthouse place overlooking the city with windows on all sides, so when the light had been on, warren couldn’t help but drop by. a soft landing on her balcony only to find the sliding doors open and music playing inside, so he slipped through the opening and made himself comfortable on ororo’s couch, as if he was always welcome.      it took a few minutes before she came out, hardly surprised at her visitor. asked if he wanted a drink, to which warren of course said yes. oh, and his baby blues followed those long, bare legs, the towel wrapped around ororo ending halfway her buttocks. it had warren’s mouth nearly watering for her. she knew, of course, and offered him a glass of whiskey before she sat down next to him, simply depositing her legs across his lap. one hand came down on her skin to caress it, revel in the smoothness, warm and still a bit damp from the heat of the shower.      they chatted about a few things, how things were, what they’d been up to lately, and her asking a few times how warren was doing and him avoiding answering it like he always did. not that he wasn’t doing well -- he just was never really in a place that could ease the tension that always seemed to bundle up in his back, right between his wings. stress. pains. aches. thoughts. all that bullshit.      a few refills and the mood had lightened significantly, tv on some funny talkshow which they were both entertained by, and ororo had allowed the angel to maneuver her legs a little further apart so his hand could roam the expanse of her inner thighs softly. always so warm there. and she watched him, how his eyes were on the tv but his mind was utterly occupied already by the impending fun he was moving them towards.

     his hand inched up to find her, knuckles dragging through the warm, slick wetness that was waiting there and he almost audibly sucked in a breath, adjusting where he sat because hell, he’d never not be turned on by the idea of a woman’s desire. he didn’t know how anyone in the entire world could not be in awe of it. before he took the next step, he finally met ororo’s gaze, a wordless plea to let him, and the slight smirk on her lips answered it. her expression barely changed when warren slipped a finger inside her, moved it like he’d never felt her like that before, and she parted her legs a little more like an invitation. a second finger and warren’s focus switched from the view she was offering like this, towel keeping nothing a secret, and back to her face to beg for a response. so eager to please.      a soft hum lingered in his throat and that was when ororo squeezed her thighs together to trap his hand, palm tight against her. ‘what do you want to do?’ she asked in a tone that would have warren groveling for anything, begging to kiss every inch of her if she would only let him. and he couldn’t speak, oh so many thoughts running through his mind, every possible option one that brought delight, so his mouth just hung open slightly, a dumb face for a dumb boy. she liked it when he got like that. warren wasn’t the brightest bulb in the bunch to start with, but he had specific skills ororo liked very much.      her leg moved, foot resting against his chest and slowly pushing him away from her until his fingers slipped out. and like that they sat for a while, the only movement being warren glancing at the television to catch snippets of funny videos that made the corners of his mouth quirk upwards, and his hand going up to that same mouth to suck on the fingers that still tasted of the goddess seated across from him. cheeks pink but his ears were red, betraying his lack of composure, and ororo watched him in his quiet desperation, the way his jeans were straining at the fly, how the claws of his wings had popped out of hiding in sheer excitement. he wasn’t that hard to read.      her foot trailed down across his shirt, toes tugging on the hem of it playfully before she pressed them against the denim bulge. instantly she had his full attention, his chest heaving and his eyes dark, pupils blown wide enough to render his iris thin.      ‘get up, warren.’ and he was to his feet.      ‘take off your clothes.’ and he was peeling them away, layer by layer, dumping his things on the floor unceremoniously until he was naked, a little bit awkward without any directions from ororo’s end. there was always something beautifully odd about him when he was naked for display like this, all blond hair, blue eyes and white wings that were all supposed to be markers for his angelic look, but instead it all looked like a complete mockery of it. the way his body was drawn taut like it was carved out of marble, a feast of blemishes and lines and scars, newer injuries that painted blotches of yellow and purple in odd shapes. an artwork, but only one for a select audience. ororo was definitely in that demographic.      she winked him closer with her hand until he was standing right next to her, and her fingers wandered across his skin, stunningly dark in contrast as they felt supple flesh. an inspection, maybe. testing her toy, seeing if he fit her current needs. she left almost nothing untouched, nails digging into the firm curve of his bum approvingly and thumb tracing the one side of the v leading down to his handsome manhood, swollen and blushing in hopes of taunting her into pleasure. his head leaned back when she granted it, but only a few teasing strokes.      ‘very nice,’ she concluded, putting the glass in her hand aside to get to her own feet, eyes shamelessly dragging across warren’s skin before she pursed her lips until he kissed them. ‘towel,’ she purred, lifting her arms so the blond could take it off of her, her expression amused at the way he gasped when she was nude as well. he never failed to bring her back that feeling of divinity.      taking his wrists, she guided his hands along her sides down and then back up until they cupped her breasts, a near-perfect fit that left warren breathless. he didn’t have to ask, just leaned down to let his tongue glide across a hardening nipple before his lips wrapped around it, suckling lightly. the other nipple got the same treatment as well as a sneaky little nip of teeth, having ororo gasp and then chuckle, tugging warren’s head back up by his hair.      ‘be sweet, baby.’ she wasn’t sure if he really processed what she’d said, his eyes half-lidded already, and a soft touch of her fingertip against the slit of his erection told her he wouldn’t make it for very long if she wanted more out of this. so instead of more teasing, she took his hand and walked him over to one of the enormous windows, leaning her back against the cold surface and offering her lover a look that almost made warren squirm, quick to come closer and press his entire body against ororo’s. he wanted to feel every inch of her on his own skin, drink in every sound she made in response to him -- he wanted to be inside her, feel her cum around him.

     hands hooked behind her thighs to hike her up and warren thrust eagerly, missing the mark but whining at the feeling of her heat against his own. ‘don’t miss again, baby, or i’ll find someone who can do it better,’ she whispered against his lips, oh so mean, but it made his next move more calculated, knees bending slightly to hold her up so he could sneak his hand further, using his fingertips to guide himself -- and then he pushed, hard, a little bit of revenge that made ororo let out a sound of delight, letting gravity do its work as she leaned heavily on warren, feet hooked behind his back to squeeze him between her knees, angle her hips.      he was so desperate for it, lips parted to pant against ororo’s neck as she leaned her head back. teeth bit at her, marks obviously pressed into her throat and shoulder, and oh, she loved this -- loved it when warren wasn’t a man anymore like he tended to be. he was usually rough, yes, but a man still, considerate and making sure he didn’t make it hurt in ways that weren’t for those who didn’t like it. but no, this was different. he was clawing at her thighs, wings leaving marks on the window where they kept pushing against it, and the way he rutted against her was nothing short of animalistic. a need to drive himself into that high, establish his masculinity in a way, make ororo feel exactly why she loved his little late-night visits. it hurt a little bit, bruising her in ways she’d feel so intimately later, but she had zero complaints.      ‘good boy.’ the growl in response was exactly what she wanted, the glass behind her suddenly seeming much too fragile for the way warren didn’t just please her, this wasn’t even fucking -- this was some special little category of behaviour unique to him. and it made him last longer, this mindset, which was always a big perk. so when she was roughly shoved over that edge all she could do was stick along for the ride, arms looped tightly around warren’s neck to press him close, feel his tongue slide along her jaw, teeth at her earlobe before she turned her head to catch him for a kiss, sloppy and needy.      he gave no warning before he came except his pace slowing down until he stilled, buried deep inside ororo and his eyes fell closed, mouth open to moan. after a full minute of silence his knees buckled and they sank to the ground together, warren slumping into his lover’s arms and huffing out breaths. she’d need to have that window replaced -- over their heads were scratch marks on the bulletproof glass from the wings’ claws.

     ‘i liked that,’ she hummed against warren’s neck, not in the least bothered by the fact she’d definitely need another shower after that kind of workout. with another soft tug at the back of his hair she made him look at her, his expression a brand of mindless bliss that even she couldn’t help but laugh at. carefully ororo moved him back, god bless the flexibility of this boy’s bones, until he was laying back on the floor, arms sprawled out upwards as if he needed the stretch to let out excess steam. soft hands explored his torso, feeling the stick of sweat on her palms, and she tweaked the jewelry through his nipples for a moment, thinking that they were a lovely addition to him.      ‘look at me,’ ororo whispered, waiting until eyes opened to gaze at her, warren’s arms slowly moving until his hands were on her thighs again, massaging them slowly, letting his thumbs press into the soft fold where her legs met her hips. and she rolled herself against him, the kind of torture that had warren hissing, crying out for mercy without actually stopping her. he got sensitive, always ached a bit afterwards, and she felt way too good now -- warm around him, an easy slide back and forth. she had warren pleading, begging her to please, don’t move, fuck, it’s too much, but she had no desire at all to let him have that. his hands were shaking against her skin, his teeth gnawing at his lip, but she knew damn well he’d let her take anything she wanted from him.      and so she kept going, until warren’s cocky attitude was completely gone and he was only howling her name, easily enslaved to her every demand, eager to be a tool for her to find another orgasm. and his jaw clenched so tight when it came, veins in his neck bulging as he listened to the sweet sounds that dripped from his lady’s lips in ecstasy, feeling her convulse around him, the soft, filthy sounds as she sank up and down a few times and then finally, ultimately let him slip out of her. she hovered over him on her hands and knees to watch the mess she’d made of him, leaning slightly to the side to rest her weight on one hand so she could take one of warren’s, carelessly pushing three of his fingers into the lovely, pulsating hole that was still a little bit open after the rough manhandling warren had performed on her, and they came back covered in his own seed. they weren’t for long, ororo’s tongue expertly cleaning them up under the watchful eye of her willing subject.      ‘thank you,’ he managed to mumble, flustered completely, and with an amused laugh ororo got up, abandoning her darling lover by tossing him the towel she’d used before to clean himself up.

     he’d leave before she returned from the shower.

[bubblesandgutz]

Every Record I Own - Day 622: Jaye Jayle Prisyn

The following is the bio I wrote for Jaye Jayle’s 2020 album, Prisyn.

Evan Patterson has always been a wanderer and an explorer. It’s evident in the constant evolution of his musical projects since his earliest days as a guitarist in left-of-center bands out of Louisville, but it’s best exemplified by the constant creative shifts within the fever-dream blues of his current project Jaye Jayle. Their sophomore album No Trails and Other Unholy Paths was a mission statement of that restless search across barren canvases, a proclamation of turning away from one’s past and marching into the unknown. But with the latest Jaye Jayle album Prisyn, Patterson takes his boldest leap into unknown territories yet, capturing immediate moments in his ever-shifting surroundings with the most basic tool at his disposal—the GarageBand app on an iPhone 8. Instead of his usual backing band, he paired up with Ben Chisholm (White Horse, Revelator, Chelsea Wolfe) as collaborator and producer to create an electronic album completely unlike anything else in his discography.

The project began with a request from couture designer Ashley Rose. The up-and-coming designer proposed that Patterson team up with Chelsea Wolfe and Ben Chisholm to create a soundtrack for one of her upcoming fashion shows. Patterson was in the early stages of a massive eleven-week stretch of touring—starting with a European jaunt with his rekindled band Young Widows, continuing on with Jaye Jayle, and returning to the US to play guitar for Emma Ruth Rundle—and used the extensive downtime in the van to flesh out ideas on his phone. “So I sent the track to Ben and he sent it back the next day with additional instrumentation, sounds, and effects,” Patterson recalls. “It was wild. He suggested we make a whole record that way, and it just took off from there.”

By the end of the three-month tour, Patterson and Chisholm had an LP’s worth of songs waiting for vocal treatments. “I initially wanted it to be an instrumental record called Songs For Iggy because I literally had this dream where I made an instrumental album with that title and Iggy Pop found out about it and sang on it,” Patterson recalls. Pop’s album The Idiot had been an enormous influence on the songwriter in recent years, and it seemed like the proper homage to a fellow sonic explorer. But as time passed and other guest vocalists were proposed, Patterson finally decided that the album would be the next phase, or perhaps even just a strange detour, for Jaye Jayle. “I had no idea what I was gonna sing, how it was gonna go. So I printed out all these poems, stories, and journal entries I’d made on my phone over the course of the year and went into the studio with my friend Warren (Christopher Gray). We’d eventually find things that rhythmically worked, and that’s how all the lyrics and singing happened. It was all gut instinct, improvisational.”

Consequently, Prisyn’s ten tracks are composites of various snapshots of Patterson’s three-month tour, with the music taking shape on one leg of the journey and the lyrical components coming from some other moment on the road. “The vocal approach isn’t meant to be full of hooks and melody,” Patterson notes. “The music is framed almost as a film score for my life. Instead of David Attenborough or William S. Burroughs as a narrator, I used this opportunity to narrate visuals from my reality.” You can hear that commentary quality on songs like “Blueberries,” which came to fruition during a late night drive through a thunderstorm in Atlanta. The white-knuckle experience manifests in the static blasts, ominous bass synth lines, and cascading arpeggios, and in the background you can hear Patterson reading a short story about trading his eyes with a blind man. Meanwhile, the gloomy electric piano lounge vibes on “Guntime” came from some non-descript drive, with lyrics that capture the much more harrowing experience of having a car full of teenagers point an Uzi at the Jaye Jayle tour van as they drove into Paris, creating a strange sense of distance to the event, as if it was viewed in an out-of-body experience. The expanded horizons provided by extensive touring also served as a point of contrast for Patterson’s comparatively conservative hometown of Louisville, which became the muse for “Don’t Blame the Rain.” The track sounds like a drug induced panic attack in a European discotheque, though the lyrics tackle Southern conservatism and Patterson’s efforts to rise above a culture he doesn’t believe in.

But perhaps the most evocative track on the album is “The River Spree.” Patterson crafted the music—an organic mixture of digital contrabass and interweaving drones—while driving across the long barren stretch of Kansas. But the lyrics capture a moment across the Atlantic, when Patterson found himself lost in Berlin late at night, peaking on acid, without a working phone, and without knowing the whereabouts of his bandmates. He charts his journey over the six-minute song with a drug-high ambivalence, recounting a mugging with the same stoicism as breathing in the night air while “thinking about David / thinking about Iggy.” It sounds like Alan Vega singing from an opium den, comfortably numb while recounting some urban nightmare.

“It’s a very odd record,” Patterson says of Prisyn. The album title, a play on the idea of a synthetic prison, alludes to Patterson’s desire for artistic freedom and the album’s conflicted use of addictive technologies, but in the time of the pandemic he also views it as an example of overcoming adversity in desperate times—it’s a record that could have been made under the jail-like confines of quarantine, with Patterson and Chisholm having never been in the same room at the same time. “These songs have a totally different energy, and that’s the exciting thing about making art. Things have to progress. I don’t wanna draw the same picture for the rest of my life. Maybe that keeps you from being a master at it, but being a master isn’t the key to art. It’s having that constant expression, the constant outlet, the constant change.”

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One: Breaking the Curse

Chapter 28:  The Middle of Something

He hadn't hit Moe hard. In truth, he'd been aiming more to disorient him than actually to knock him unconscious. But he was out just long enough for him to tie his hands together in front of his enormous belly. With the final knot, Moe French began to come around. He groaned and blinked his bleary eyes looking around to figure out where he was and what was going on when he realized his hands were tied and finally spotted him. His eyes widened in fear, and he felt pride swell up inside of him at the image. It did make him feel like his old self again. No! Better than his old self! Because this was what he'd always wanted to do to Belle's father after he'd heard the news, he'd always wanted to kill him, to make him afraid, to let him feel the same desperation his own daughter might have felt before she'd been compelled to take her own life. And he didn't need magic to do it…glorious.

"What are you going to do to me?"

Anger reared its head again, tearing through him like a dozen knives at those words. Those words…those exact fucking words. They made his chest constrict and tighten as he recalled a moment in time when he perhaps could have changed the course of history, could have spared Belle's life, and changed the outcome of all this.

So, what are you going to do to me? she'd asked.

Love you, if you'll forgive me…how he wished he'd replied with those words. Instead, he was here, leering over a fat old man, and doing the one thing he hated to do…wish.

He ripped a piece of duct tape from the roll he'd just purchased and placed it over the former King's mouth. "We're going on a little trip," he explained as he moved to the driver's seat. "And once we've arrived, we'll have a nice little chat. Unless, of course, you'd like to tell me where it is before we begin?" He glanced over his shoulder only to see Moe watching him with scared eyes. He neither nodded nor shook his head. Coward. "Didn't think so..."

It finally started to rain while they drove out of town. The once former King made muffled noises the entire way as if he was trying to speak with him, but it was useless with the tape over his mouth. He ignored the moans and groans of his cargo, kept his eyes on the road, and continued to drive to what he had already decided was "the perfect spot" for interrogation. It was a place away from others, a place deep in the woods, a place that Moe French could scream all he liked, but no one would hear him.

His false memories told him that this cabin had been in his family since his Aunt had bought the land. His family had meant to start some sort of vacationing business with it, but they kept one of the better cabins for personal use. He had "memories" of coming up to this place as a child, but the truth was that he'd never been here before. Though he knew the layout, knew all the furniture, knew what was inside every single drawer in the kitchen, he'd never stayed here. Mr. Gold wasn't one to take vacations or time off of any kind. He preferred to be working in town. And so, the cabin had gone unused all these years.

As he pulled into the long driveway for it, he smiled. It was good that he'd finally found a decent use for it.

He shut off the truck's engine and pulled his gun out once more to give it a check. Only then did he lower himself down to the ground and begin his stroll to the back of the van. He had a plan, a good plan. But part of knowing how to plan was assessing the riskiest parts of that plan. Getting Moe into the van had been risky. But getting him from the van to the house…that was riskier.

He was smaller than Moe and obviously less mobile. He could only imagine what it would be like if Moe decided to run into the woods. He'd be lost, obviously, or fall and injure himself, and there would be very little he could do from there on his own. He could call Dove, but he wanted to keep Dove and anyone else away from this situation. If he had to bring someone else in, it wouldn't end the way he wanted it to. He had a gun, if Moe decided to run, then he could shoot, but he didn't want the man dead. If he was dead, then his answers were gone. Maurice was a coward. At least that was his assessment of him in their land. Unwilling to do what was necessary until it was too late, unable to make difficult decisions, even unable to chase after his only daughter once she'd made the decision and the sacrifice for him. The monster hadn't even had the balls to send a soldier to do his dirty work. Maurice was a coward. For his sake, he hoped that Moe would be too.

At the back of the van, he pointed his gun at Moe. "Walk!" he shouted, trying to sound as angry and intimidating as possible. He couldn't shoot him, but he wanted him to think that if he tried anything stupid, he would. He watched as Moe edged himself out of the back of the truck, finally sliding to the ground with a weighted "thud." Then, gun pointed at his back, he ushered the large man to the door and pointed him inside.

"You see, here's the thing…" he explained as he let Moe French into the cabin, "I don't normally let people get away."

He slammed the door, letting Moe jump at the noise. Then he took a look around. He'd never been here in his life, not once in the twenty-eight years Storybrooke had existed…and the cabin smelled like it too. It was musty. The air was damp and stale all at once, in desperate need of a breeze and the smell of rain to clear it out. It was dusty too. Everything in his life was dusty. Odd how he'd never noticed that in his life. It would have driven Belle crazy. Now, the dust mocked him. It made her absence so much more palpable than it had been a few moments ago. And just like that, it was as if he could suddenly see the holes, the places in his life that she belonged but were left unfilled. The library across the street from the shop. The dust all around him. Anger and rage that built inside of him unchecked and unsoothed. Conversations he'd never get to have with anyone. Teacups that were unchipped, meaningless. One of those things he had hope he could fix.

He took the duct tape off of the man's mouth and sat him down on a low bench against the wall, one that would ensure he was always taller and capable of towering over him. Then, against every desire he had, he set the gun down. He had to. He wanted too much to kill the man responsible for the death of the best person he'd ever known, the greatest love he'd ever experienced. He wanted him to die just as she had…but he needed him alive. And looking around this place, seeing and feeling the places she was not, even here, he felt his temper stir. He was smart enough to know that if the gun were on him, it would be too tempting to use it if he frustrated him. For getting him to talk, his cane would do the trick. Annoying and cumbersome as it was, over the years, he'd come to find just how effective a tool it could be.

He grabbed a chair for himself and dragged it over to Mr. French as he whined. "Let me explain, okay? Let me explain."

Explain…explain what, exactly? Why he'd stolen items of value and taken one cup that was both worthless and priceless? Explain why he was alone? Explain why the daughter who had loved him, sacrificed her life for him, had been held against her will in a tower for that sacrifice. How she'd been tortured? How he'd stood by and watched that beautiful light inside of her dim to the point that she felt she had no other choice but to throw herself from the tower and jump to her death? He didn't want to hear it. There was no suitable or acceptable explanation for any of it.

"Oh. Well, that is…fascinating. Truly fascinating!" he exclaimed sarcastically. Then took his cane and pressed it into the man's throat.

Poor Moe gagged. He flinched away from it, brought his hands up to defend himself as best he could, but there wasn't much he could do against him. Not much, but listen and give him his answers. If he couldn't have Belle, he would have her cup back. It was all he had left of her. He'd be damned if he was going to take it away.

"I'm going to let you breathe in a second, and you're going to say two sentences. The first is going to tell me where it is. The second is going to tell me who told you to take it. Do you understand the rules?"

Moe didn't respond. Of course, that could have had something to do with the fact that his cane was pressing down on his windpipe. In that case, he'd take his lack of a response as a response.

"Good. Let's begin."

He pulled the cane from his throat, and Moe French eased, gasping in breath after breath of air. He leaned forward and waited. Two sentences. He hadn't been joking. All he needed to hear were those two sentences, and he'd be content. He'd let the man go, or at least that was what he told himself he'd do. He didn't fear persecution from him! Moe French had just as much of a spine as King Maurice had. He just needed to know where Belle's cup was and if it had been Regina who suggested he take it!

Finally, Moe opened his mouth. "I needed that van..."

"Ah-h-h-h!" he interrupted as anger and excitement mingled inside of him, and he took hold of the cane at the bottom, turning it into an altogether different object. In his pocket he felt his phone vibrate, there was a phone call coming in, but he couldn't be bothered to answer because he was in the middle of something. He didn't know how much he'd wanted Moe French to defy him until just that moment. Now that he had, there were a few lessons he'd been dying to teach him.

"Now, you see, that is not a good first sentence!" he cried before bringing the head of the cane down on him.

Lesson one: pain.

"Ow! Gold! Listen!"

"Tell me where it is!"

Lesson two: reward sacrifice, don't kill it!

"Ow!" he screamed as he hit him again. "Stop!"

"Tell me where it is!"

Lesson three: respect.

"Ow! Stop! It wasn't my fault!"

A shiver ran through his body at those words. "'My fault'? What are you talking about, 'my fault'?"

Fault. He wanted to talk about fault?! Fantastic!

Lesson four: whose fault was it that he was alone? Whose fault was it that they were both alone? That he was the way he was? Whose fault was it that so many in Storybrooke would hold their loved ones close tomorrow night while all he held close was a damaged cup made of porcelain?!

His.

"You shut her out. You had her love, and you shut her out!"

Lesson five: good parenting!

French screamed again as he delivered the blow.

"She's gone. She's gone forever – she's not coming back. And it's your fault!"

Lesson six: kindness.

"Not mine!"

Lesson seven: acceptance!

"You are her father!

Lesson eight: personal property!

"Yours! It's yours!"

Lesson nine: strength.

Lesson ten…love.

He lost track of the number of times he hit him after that, completely forgot to remember what the lessons were supposed to be. The world faded away as he administered blow after blow after blow. He didn't know the words coming out of his mouth. He became numb to the ringing of his phone blended together with the yelps coming out of Maurice when he suddenly felt a hand close over his wrist.

Emma Swan.

"Stop!" she ordered.

He looked at Moe, and suddenly, an image surfaced in his mind, a picture of Belle smiling at him after she'd begged him not to kill Robin Hood, and he hadn't. Calm broke over him like a breeched damn at the memory, and the fire inside of him extinguished. He cooled as he remembered her face, remembered the feel of her when she'd thrown her arms around him and what she'd helped him to feel stirring inside the now empty place in his chest.

He stopped. Belle didn't give him a choice. Neither did the Swan.

[windup-dragoon]

“You’re Not Alone”

Word Count: 1,535  Kiri x Hien  Post ShB / Some Spoilers 

Previously, “Welcome Back” 

Next: Light Upon the Lost

Last: Stand by Me

Doma was beautiful when the blossoms were in full bloom. Bursts of delightful pink that scattered on the breeze, falling as if raindrops around her. Sunshine broke through the branches in dazzling curtains, much like rays of light piercing the surface of the ocean. Alive and warm, dancing and shifting with the current and the wind. 

At her feet, a blanket of fallen blossoms that dusted the stonework of the enclave. She knelt to pluck one, to feel the silk soft petals between her fingertips. If she had been given the means, surely she would have gathered them all in her arms and tossed them over head, to be caught on the wind and set free once more. 

“Kirishimi?” A voice beckoned. 

In response she rose with eyes alight. She knew the voice now. So well, like a tune one simply does not forget. With it stirred a beating in her chest and a tightness in her lungs, excitement. 

Hien was calling for her. 

Yet when mismatched eyes came to rest upon his image there was no smile painted across his lips, or a laugh that echoed. Instead his body pitched forward and brought him to his knees writhing in pain. 

All at once her world shifted. A candle snuffed out. Cerulean blue skies that stretched miles overhead in an instant became heavy with ebony ink. The sun was a fiery eclipse, an eye opening and glaring down upon her. The petals of lost blossoms nothing more than cottony white feathers. 

Ice filled her veins. Her skin felt alive, slithering like serpents and constricting her. The air grew heavy with soot and ash, a familiar scent that made her gag. Carried on the wind she could make out distant cries, women and children alike screaming out for mercy. 

It was Holminster Switch all over again. 

“Hie-!!” A failure of her voice produced bile. Splattered at her feet, like pearls liquefied, the familiar telltale sign of the light and its scourge rotting her from the inside. 

Another try, desperate to call his name. More putrid substance welled on her tongue and spilled over her lips. 

“Kirishimi, why?” Hien’s voice became a whisper against the din of rupturing fires and collapsing buildings. Kirishimi looked up through tear strained eyes, horrified to see the once prince of Doma now tainted by the light; a mess of contorted limbs and twitching wings. 

“All you know how to do is survive...” A whisper at her ear. The voice itself was unfamiliar but it made Kirishimi shiver. Death itself would have been a pleasure to hear instead. 

Fear permeated her body. As if the sickening rot from the light hadn’t been enough. Now her own muscles betrayed her; a mind begging her not to look at the owner of this hushed tone. So delicate it came but felt no less than ice. 

“Others die... but we survive.” 

- - - 

Thunder cracked in the distance. 

Kiri jolted at the sound, having felt as if shaken awake by the din. Panic had her heart pounding in her ears while she gasped for air, no longer choking on the stagnant light that filled her mouth like blood but moments ago. Despite the humidity in the air, thanks to the approaching thunderstorm and a window left open, she couldn’t control the violent shaking in her hands; the ice that skimmed her skin and chilled her to her core. She drew herself close, knees to her chest as a sob croaked in her throat. 

Another dream. A nightmare that haunted her. Tears spilled down the crest of her cheeks, dampening her blanket and getting caught in her lashes. 

She was many things; strong, determined, kind, and cheerful. But alone? When the darkness whispered corrosive taunts and belittled her beneath closed eyes? She was weak, broken, and above all else, scared. The thought of giving her life up for the people of the First hadn’t even been a question at the time, she would have gladly given it and more. Of course it terrified her, she was only mortal, after all. But with death no longer looming over head and a future restored... What then was it that scared her so? 

A knock rasped at the door and suddenly she was made aware of her surroundings. The bedding beneath and around her was unfamiliar but soft and plush, even as it was laid out on the floor. Faint light accompanied with the occasional flash of lightning came in through a window, illuminating just enough of the room around her to tell she was not in Eorzea. 

“Kirishimi, are you awake?” A whisper breathed through the door had the Dragoon feeling light headed. So... She really had run off to Doma? 

With a hand knotting through snowy locks and a sigh at her lips, she returned the whisper. “Yes. Come in.” 

Softly the door peeled back and light poured in, temporarily blinding her as it absorbed the long stretches of shadow and ate the gloom. A gentle, ever so tiny flickering flame of a lit candle, casting dancing shadows across Hien’s features. He closed the door quietly behind him, the paper doors here in Doma so light they hardly made a sound to begin with. 

Greeted with a light smile, twisted as it was by the candles light, Kirishimi swore the ice that pricked her skin had begun to melt. Still, she drew her blankets close and turned her gaze elsewhere. 

He was speechless while he observed the room. The blankets tossed about and twisted around her, the mess of her hair in knots from thrashing, and her shivering frame. The young lord sat himself down by the door where he stood, the candle carefully placed to the side. 

“You look awful.” Hien spoke with the lightest touch of a laugh in his voice; half teasing but honest. 

“How many times do I gotta suffer hearin’ that today?” She groaned, resting her forehead on the tops of her knees. 

“Today?” He repeated in surprise. “Kirishimi... I don’t believe you’ve had visitors today.” To this the woman tilted her head just enough to peer at him through knotted locks. “Well, never mind that for now. How are you fairing?” 

“Said so yerself, I look awful. Sums up how I feel...” Awful felt like a gross understatement. Hideous and vile? More accurate. She felt as though snakes wore her skin and she, nothing more than a grotesque puppet. Although the First had been restored and the Lightwardens vanquished... how much longer would she have to endure this maddening disease of the mind? That every slight creak of her bones or twist of her stomach had her weary the light had returned. The feeling she was still a threat to those around her. Toxic. 

“Kirishimi,” Hien moved to take her hand in his, stretching the small distance between them, but hesitated when she flinched. His voice faltered before he swallowed. “You needn’t explain what took place on your journey, if that is your desire, but please allow me to be of some assistance? I will lend you my ear and shoulder if that is your wish. You need not shy from me.” 

Even in the dim light Kiri saw the glimmer of sorrow in his steady gaze. Had he felt as helpless in this as she was? He endeavored to inspire her once before, at Ghimlyt Dark, with honey sweet words about a favorable future for everyone. But for this? The enormity of all she had gone through, what she and the other Warriors of Darkness, had survived; how did one even begin to provide succor? 

His smile wavered when her response was silence. A roll of distant thunder echoed between them. 

“I- ... Uh, I will let you sleep, then.” Hien’s tone had changed. It made her heart ache. The hand he had so nearly used to reach for her own now searched instead for the candle at his side. 

Then stopped. 

Her hand, calloused as it was, took his and squeezed. He was warm; a strong burning fire in the dead of winter. Kirishimi drew his hand toward herself and pressed her forehead to his knuckles. 

“I don’t wanna hurt anyone,” With her head lowered and hair obscuring her features from his view, Kiri allowed the wrenching feeling in her chest to take control. Her lips quivered on stammered words, tears causing the colors of the room to bleed together. She hiccuped with hushed crying. “But I don’t wanna be alone!” 

The hand she held, damp with tears, moved to cup her cheek. Such heat generated from a simple touch; it felt like fire against her ice kissed flesh. She pressed her cheek into his palm, too afraid to look at the man before her. Vulnerable and broken had never been her forte. It made her feel weak, ill suited to be a Warrior of Light but... It also made her feel human. 

“You are never alone, Kirishimi.” 

With another crash of thunder outside, Hien pulled the Dragoon close, snatching the blanket as an afterthought and drawing it around her still shaking shoulders. Carefully he reached over and snuffed out the candle between his index finger and thumb. 

[moonlightchess]

The Winter Wolves (1)

Eirik and Eija Sturmborn are twins, born to a long local tradition in northernmost Minnesota, of winter wolves and pack wars and family bonds as deep as they are destructive. Things are changing as of late, and worse, not changing at all - they’re adults now, and they have yet to shift into the wolf-skin their wild-bred parents should have passed on to them long ago. Wholly human they remain, albeit strong and hardy and ready to die fighting back the howling rival packs threaded throughout their family’s Gray woods as rumors spread that the Sturmborn twins are never going to make the final change and now is the time to strike, to wipe out the Sturmborn pack entirely so that their dwindling bloodline will finally cease to be a threat in the inevitable statewide pack war that has been simmering for years. 

There’s also the death of their lost brother Sven, years ago, killed in an alpha fight during a wolf run with their parents when the twins were children - as the story goes, anyway. Details are emerging, cults are stirring, and the twins can’t stop dreaming of ravens and death. The Danish Larsen witches to the south who claim Eija’s dearest friend and heart’s desire Sara have no idea that she’s been using her magic to aid the twins in uncovering what really happened to Sven and holding off the Karlsen and Jorgunsson packs for as long as possible. Meanwhile Eirik’s continued clumsy attempts to woo the elegant violinist, the newcomer to Angle Inlet Julian Hassan, are not going well at all. The brutal tragedy and burgeoning madness stirring in their land and their blood are nothing compared to the battlefield of human longing, a truth more evident every day.

“All religion is only ever a desperate search for the freedom and relief of not being held accountable for your own life, your own future, your own actions,” Eirik told his sister once, huffing the words into a cloud of sawdust as he’d hunched over his current project - a kitchen table for upstairs. “The trick is finding the right god to apply to your personal aesthetic, the right doctrine to inspire your vanity and ego. You have to find the god that’s willing to tell you what you want to hear, who looks the way you think god should look. Once you do, of course you’ll die for them. The mass appeal of Christianity lies in how malleable and forgiving it is, and churches and cults alike all feed on growth. That’s why the Buddhists are so welcoming to any ignorant white college student with a “namaste” bath rug, they’ve figured it out. It’s the same reason romance novels with empty, undefined characters always sell the best. People like to see themselves in things, I revere the old gods as much as anyone, but I’m not stupid. We are nothing if not our own egos. It’s the invite-only religions that you ought to keep an eye on.”

Eija had laughed, the inhalation of a lungful of sawdust of no concern to her. They were woodworkers and potters by trade, the Sturmborns. Her own palm was slowly working out a thick pine splinter from a week ago. “So now my brother is a philosopher,” she’d observed, stealing his iron beer stein for a healthy gulp. At eighteen apiece - twins, they - technically the state laws of Minnesota frowned upon such indulgences. But the town of Angle Inlet was also acutely aware of the elective and social power of its enormously Scandinavian population, who poured beer and honey wine out at winter gatherings for everyone present, including their young. Such was their culture, and they’d been raised into responsible sorts. The ale of tonight was a heady, oaky blend with a thick head of caramel foam, heavily scented of smoked apples.

“Hardly, but it’s something I’ve been thinking about.” Eirik lapsed into a comfortable silence without further elaboration, another habit to which they were prone. She eventually retrieved some homework from under their longest work bench, history tonight, and settled cross-legged on the basement’s gritty stone floor while her brother worked. He was sanding the chair smooth by the time she looked up again, rising to his considerable height - both of them quite tall and sturdy like their parents - to tap her on the top of her head. Her nearly-buzzed snow-blonde hair scraped his fingertips like velcro, and she lifted her head without comment. His own was much longer, down just past his shoulders in thick wheat-blond waves. “It’s getting late.” He handed her the last of the beer stein to finish, which she did, bringing it upstairs to wash later.

The house was quiet, still. They hadn’t seen their parents in weeks, which was not unusual. The wolves had come calling in September, as they were wont to do, and Kaspar and Emma Sturmborn had bolted from the house one night at last, howling and wild and tearing at their clothes. They’d returned once or twice before the autumn chill had cracked the damp haze of summer, naked and soaked in blood, flesh scored raw with gore and gashes that healed in a day or two. On the last night of September though, their mother had been snappish and restless at dinner. Their father’s profoundly sexual longing for her had oozed through his attempts at polite conversation, the occasional baring of teeth suggesting that marital relations weren’t the only carnal craving he was experiencing just then. The blood moon had come.

The howling, the clicking of claws on their porch, the soft whuffing and whimpering of the pack had kept the twins up that night, and in the morning their parents had been gone, lost to the woods with the front door swinging open in the slight breeze. Every year the pack came, and every year they stayed away a little longer. But Eija and Eirik knew hunting, knew canning, fermenting, cooking and cleaning. They knew how to make and repair furniture, ceramics, clothes. They knew how to maintain embers in the wood stove to keep the house warm, and they knew how to play chess to keep each other entertained. Every year they were fine whenever their parents returned, and this bred a sense of confident abandonment in Kaspar and Emma. No questions were ever asked, no details ever offered.

The matter of Sven though, was troubling.

Sven had been their brother, once. He’d been tall and thick like them, pale and blond with a strong jaw and ice-colored eyes so light and glittering they were nearly colorless mirrors. He’d turned with their parents early, tumbling around the woods as a pup and laughing at the way his body had shifted so fluidly from yipping gray wolf to boy and back again. Sven had never stopped laughing, in fact - he’d been funny, loud and bright. He hid Eija’s shoes and teased Eirik into putting his hand into a box full of shaving cream to find out the “secret.” His hugs had always been warm and tight, and one day he’d bounded out the door with his parents and the pack to chase the blood moon and he’d never come back.

There had been a hunt, their parents had explained. A fight, an accident, Sven’s blood splashed dark across the trees and snow. He’d never come back from the woods, and they’d never spoken of him again. Eija though, she kept his sweaters at the back of her closet and would occasionally put one on, for bad nights. She still had Eirik at least, who was steady and intelligent without any of Sven’s lively humor but all of his sturdy support and dependability. Their parents would not speak his name, as if to acknowledge that he had once been would invoke some darkness, violate some pact. Still, on the night of the Friggablot every May, after honoring their mother with dinner and gifts, the twins would slip into the wolf-woods to light a sacred fire for their lost Sven. He never found it, no matter where they camped.

Eirik’s nighttime routine was a quiet one, as was Eija’s. They shared a dinner of beef stew and bread, and Eirik brewed them warm root tea as the sun sank. Wordlessly, they washed the dishes side by side with Eija scrubbing and her brother drying, and he pressed his lips to her temple before they separated for the night. “Drom sott,” were his only words, and she smiled faintly, squeezed his hand. Hausblot had already passed and the nights were going brisk and chilly, but their northern blood was ready and she didn’t bother leaving the woodstove lit. Instead, she waited for Eirik to finish his bath before taking command of the upstairs bathroom herself, the scent of his wood-and-mint soap lingering soothingly. 

She’d cleaned and laid out the old furs for her bed the month before, in preparation for northern Minnesota’s half-year deep freeze, but even snuggling down under at least ten pounds of fur and fabric couldn’t lull her to sleep. Normally this was not an issue for her, but a buzz filled her brain that wouldn’t be silenced even as the night wore on. It was around midnight that she finally abandoned all pretense and let her mind find Eirik, who was not in his bed. He was in fact, directly over her head.

The roof of their log home was flat to the east side and angled to the south, with a lip of log rising up around the perimeter that acted as a sufficient barrier to prevent one from rolling off in their sleep. This had led to some years of the twins sleeping on the roof when there was no rain predicted, and she found him up there several minutes later via the ladder hooked to her bedroom window that only asked for a little swinging and dexterity to get there. The air was sharp and cool, the sky swirling dark, the milk-dense moon casting the world in a pearl glow. An icy, pine-sharp breeze bit through her soft pajamas, and she shivered, tiptoeing across weathered roofing to him.

He’d laid out all of his own thick bedding, his pillow, and in his flannel pajama pants and long-sleeved black henley he looked as comfortable as anything indoors. Eija tossed her own pillow, managing to land it just beside his head so that he didn’t stir, but when she crawled into their now-shared nest of furs and blankets he silently slid an arm around her shoulders to draw her close. His heartbeat steadied under her cheek when she rested her head on his chest, the cool air sweeping out toward the woods unable to cut into the warmth of them, and finally she slept.

A cold, gray-soft dawn had broken when she next opened her eyes, the loss of Eirik’s soothing heat abruptly jarring. He was sitting upright beside her, leaning forward a little and peering out toward the woods. She opened her mouth, but before a breath escaped her he silenced her with a raised hand and pointed. “Look.” His voice was a whisper, strange considering that they were at least ten miles from their closest neighbor. The word floated away from his lips on a cloud of steam as it met the frigid air, his breath dissipating even as she obeyed.

The tree line of the woods surrounding their house began after roughly half an acre of wild growth that served as something of a kitchen garden - their parents had taught them how to grow potatoes, carrots, turnips and herbs to sustain them when trips into town became a snow-packed luxury in the winter months. Eirik’s pale eyes were fixed upon the space now, and after a moment of bleary adjustment, Eija came to understand why. A small collection of people were emerging into the burgeoning light, spilling out from the woods like a tiny swarm of rolling bugs out from under a lifted rock. They were all in dark hooded robes obscuring their faces, but their heights suggested men, women, maybe even children.

“What were they doing in our woods?” Eirik’s hand tightened around her forearm, where it had fallen moments before, and he shook his head to silence her. No one had noticed them yet, they were likely too far away. There were at least ten of them, and the way they moved together felt familiar. A rival pack then, maybe the ones who had challenged their father for his alpha position and killed Sven - laughing Sven -years ago. Eija’s teeth bared themselves and she tensed all over, but Eirik was only alert, watching. The group slowly broke apart, crossing their land on silent feet in the earliest possible morning, several heading west toward the Lost River, others east into town. It wasn’t until the last of them was no longer visible that Eirik seemed to exhale, lifting his hand from Eija’s arm.

Something about what they’d seen felt profoundly wrong, despite the robed figures having done nothing particularly threatening. “It wasn’t a blot,” Eirik said quietly. “Hausblot’s done, they’re quite late if they’re observing out there at this point.”

“Erik the Red’s day?”

“Couple of days too early. Maybe. I don’t know.”

They rolled their bedding in silence and carried the piles back into the house through her bedroom window, where Eirik laid them neatly back across their beds. He slept below Eija’s attic room, down the hall from their parents’ empty bedroom. She realized as she was inhaling deeply of the cold forest scents still clinging to her furs that part of her had hoped their parents would be among the strange hooded figures, on their way home from a few months with the pack. But none had crossed the kitchen garden to enter their house, and some natural instinct had held her back from calling out to the group to ask for them.

[clan-sayeed-fic]

Let me earn your trust (Kamilah Sayeed & MC)

Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

Book: Bloodbound (property of Pixelberry Studios) Pairing: Kamilah Sayeed & MC: Amy (I do not own those characters, they're the property of Pixelberry Studios as well) Warnings: angst

Rating: Mature Author's note:  I'm not a native English speaker, I'm sorry for any mistakes (feel free to correct me).

~ 2100 words

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Chapter 13

The next morning was harsh.

Especially for Amy.

Her head was the translation of pain. Her skull, even her brain felt like it could explode from the sore at any time. When she opened her eyes, she realized how hard it was to concentrate her sight while everything around was blending with each other. After the previous night, she was mad at herself for not keeping the curtains closed. The bright light was drilling into her head through her eyes without mercy.

Her muscles were in pain too. She felt like she had run a marathon last night. Legs, back, arms, everything hurt so badly. Let alone the stomach, which was threatening to return its content if she made even one fast move.

Amy tried to lift herself on her elbows.

With no luck.

She fell back on the mattress, letting out a loud sigh.

***

Kamilah was in her office. She was working since it was already afternoon. She tried not to think about what happened at night. It was hard because of the feelings, which kept coming back to her.

Finally, she heard Amy walking out of her room to the bathroom. Kamilah predicted that the girl would feel the consequences of the party. She drunk equally the same amount of alcohol as Lily, and even the newly turned vampire wasn't sober. The human body couldn't handle it very much better.

Amy took a long, cold shower, trying to wake her body up and wash away the alcohol as if it was even possible. Most of all, she couldn't find the courage to face Kamilah yet.

Amy remembered the most general part of the night, surprisingly. Especially the part when Kamilah had arrived.

After some time, she walked out of the bathroom.

When she stepped into the living room, the view made her gasp in disbelieve. Seeing all the mess that they had done together with Lily, it made her feel even worse than before.

"I prepared a black coffee for you," Amy was torn out of her thoughts by Kamilah's voice.

The woman was standing in the kitchen. She wore a long, light beige cardigan. Under it, she had a tank, white top. The trousers she wore were in the color of dark coffee. Amy had never seen her in such a casual outfit before, looking this good.

"Have you seen enough?" Kamilah made her realize that she was standing there this whole time, wordless.

Amy blushed a little, embarrassed. She stayed before this impossibly beautiful woman in her oversized shirt covering her upper body and half of her thighs. Under it, she wore basic shorts.

"Kamilah, I'm..." she finally tried to say something, afraid that her voice would not cooperate, but the woman interrupted.

"Drink the coffee, clean up this mess," she gave orders with a sharp voice." When you do everything, we can talk in my office."

Kamilah made her way to the mentioned room.

Amy's jaw dropped.

Was she invited to her office?

How badly did I mess up this time, Amy thought before getting to work.

***

Amy cleaned up everything. It took her some time, mostly because of her head hurting so bad during gathering empty bottles, which made enormous noise for her ears.

Amy lifted her hand, ready to knock to the doors of Kamilah's office when they suddenly opened by themself.

"Come in," Kamilah said, not showing herself.

Amy gulped and walked inside. She couldn't stop her curiosity and look around to see all those incredible artifacts hanging on the walls.

The room was spacious, different from everything she saw in Kamilah's penthouse and company building so far. It wasn't as modern decorated as the rest of her place for sure. It was way much cozier and made in an old-fashioned style. In the center of the room was Kamilah's desk made from pure wood. By the walls, Amy saw a large wooden bookcase filled with books, folders, and notebooks.

"Sit down," Kamilah said, closing the doors behind Amy's back.

Amy wanted to sit on the chair near the desk. She was prepared for the tough talk.

"I meant on the couch," Kamilah showed the light beige furniture standing near to the bookcase.

"Oh," Amy mumbled and moved there.

Kamilah sat on the other side of the couch, staring into Amy's eyes like she was trying to read her mind.

Amy's body tensed up, and she started to shiver lightly. She sat differently, pulling up one leg, hopeful that it would help to stop the trembling.

Kamilah touched her knee gently, trying to calm Amy's body.

"I don't mean to harm you," her eyes showed sadness and distance.

Amy's brows furrowed. Why was she changing moods like that? Why was she trying to be kind to her? Kamilah removed the hand from her knee, acting insecure.

"Kamilah, I wanted to apologize," Amy tried to not fall apart under the woman's gaze, "I didn't mean this party to go so far. I want you to know, I have never been this drunk in my entire life, it's not like me." She would keep on explaining herself if she wasn't stopped by Kamilah's hand gesture.

"You cleaned it, right?" The woman asked.

"Yeah, I did, of course," Amy answered quickly.

"Then, it's behind," Kamilah said. "I want to clarify what happened after. Amy, I've never intended to take advantage of you."

So that's bothering her so much, Amy realized, shocked.

"Oh my god," Amy buried her face in hands, blushing. "I would never think about it like that," she lifted her gaze with difficulty, feeling ashamed by this talk. "I actually started it. Well, I was drunk... but not unconscious, right?"

"I still should have restrained my desires," Kamilah's eyes found Amy's after she stopped avoiding her gaze.

"Your's..." Amy repeated, swallowing between words nervously, "desires?"

Kamilah tilted her head to one side, making blood burn in Amy's veins.

"Why are you so surprised?" Kamilah asked with her deep voice.

"Uh," Amy's heartbeat increased, "I mean, it's you... and... me. That's so weird." She stood up, and suddenly she felt anger rising inside, "Why are you acting like it's your fault when it's clearly mine?"

Kamilah was sitting in the same place, quite surprised by Amy's change of tone.

"Because you cleaned up your mess," Kamilah started slowly, unknowing how to choose the right words. "And now I'm cleaning mine."

"Oh, so I'm your mess right now?!" Amy almost shouted, not feeling like herself. "Why I thought that you even cared?"

"I don't see the reason to raise your voice," Kamilah was losing patience. "I said that I cared. What I'm saying now is that I need to explain this situation."

Amy brushed her blonde hair with fingers, frustrated.

"You don't understand, do you?" Amy looked into her eyes, hurting, "I need you to be mad at me, about how I broke your rules after you agreed on inviting Lily." Her voice sounded desperate. "What I don't want is you to be angry at yourself for my own decision.''

Amy's attitude changed from confident to vulnerable in the split of a second.

Kamilah sat there for a moment, speechless. Amy's words triggered her mind. They reminded her about information which Adrian shared with her last night.

That it was Amy's decision too, not telling the whole truth.

"Well, I am angry," Kamilah said, reliving her disappointment. "Why would you lie to us?"

That was the most unfortunate moment to pull out this discussion. Kamilah wasn't great at talking at all. And she was even worse when it went to talking with delicate humans.

"What?" Amy was thrown off by this change of subject.

She knew exactly where this conversation was going. And what Amy knew too, was that she would not answer this question at such a moment.

"Who are you for real?" Kamilah stood up, her arms crossed.

"Amy..." the girl felt blood rushing away from her face.

"Stop it," the woman frowned. "I know that's the lie, and I don't think that we deserved these lies after everything." Kamilah was talking in the plural while what she really had in mind were her own hurt feelings.

"After everything?!" Amy yelled, defending herself. Her head spinning, the hangover was not done yet. "You mean, after imprisoning me in here?"

"How dare you," Kamilah's eyes became red from anger. "You could have lived here like it was your life. I gave you a place to sleep, food, work."

"Oh, and you even gave me your time to earn my trust, right?!" This time Amy won in the battle of words, making Kamilah uncertain. "Yeah, you heard me good, these are your own words."

That's when it hit Kamilah. She gulped nervously, losing her previous confidence. The color of her eyes went back to normal.

Kamilah reminded herself when she gave Amy a job of taking care of her schedule. It was at her company during one of those days when they worked together.

She gave her a notebook. The notebook, where she wrote something that she forgot about as soon as Amy moved in. Something that was no longer a task for her.

That she needed to earn her trust.

"Amy, I..." Kamilah didn't know what to say, what could she say anyway at this point?

"I'll make it easier for you," Amy turned around and stormed out of her office, heading to her own room.

Kamilah followed her, stopping outside of the room because the curtains were still opened.

Amy moved quickly, changing her shorts to the full-length jeans. She hid her stuff into the backpack. Since she didn't have much of her own things, it didn't take a lot of time to do so.

After that, she walked past Kamilah, making her way to the elevator.

"What do you think you're doing?" Kamilah couldn't stop her astonishment.

"What does it look like?" Amy answered with a growl.

Kamilah could have done something. She had her vampire speed and strength. It would be a piece of cake for her to grab the girl and imprison her in this penthouse. To manipulate her into staying here. To do to her things that she did to other mortals in her worst time of being the vampire.

But she did nothing.  

Kamilah felt powerless for the first time in her long life. Both: as a mortal and the vampire.

The only thing she was able to do was standing there. And watching how Amy was slowly disappearing from her life.

Or, disappearing just as quickly as she appeared in it.

Amy walked into the elevator and turned around to face the woman this one last time. Words were escaping from her mouth filled with hurt.

"Oh, and by the way, your plan worked on me," her eyes watering before saying out loud the hardest part. "Thinking that I almost fell for you."

With these last words, Amy left Kamilah alone with her thoughts.

The woman stood in front of the elevator doors a long time after.

Not able to make a move.

Her mind was repeating the only question that she could think of at that moment.

What did she say?

***

Amy walked on the pavement, sobbing quietly.

How could she have been so stupid to let Kamilah into her life? For some time, Amy believed that Kamilah might open up to her one day. And the only thing the woman was really interested in was Amy being a Bloodkeeper.

Or actually, only the Bloodkeeper part.

Amy wrapped her arms around, trying to calm herself and stop crying. Damn, she hated crying so much.

That's when the coldness hit her. The wind picked up, lifting her hair. Amy heard a car driving in her direction. It started reducing speed as it got closer to her.

"Do you need a lift?" Amy heard a man's voice asking her.

"No, thank you, I'm good," she answered without looking at the person.

The car outran her and stopped a few meters ahead.

It was not an ordinary car, but a black limousine to be precise.

Amy kept walking, not wanting to show any hesitation. When she lined-up with the limo, the back doors opened, and she recognized the man sitting inside.

"Are you sure? It's freezing outside, and it's in my best interest to keep the citizens safe," he smiled charmingly.

Amy stopped for a moment, rethinking what she should do.

Perhaps the great timing was the most responsible for her decision.

The fact that she was so broken at the moment and needed to talk to someone immediately.

And the voice from the person sitting in the car sounded so tempting in her head.

Screw this, Amy inhaled deeply and got inside the car.

"Will you tell me who broke your heart, my friend?"

Adam put a hand on her shoulder, reassuringly.

Next chapter: 14

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tag list: @onyxgaytrash, @lightning-fury, @scarlet-letter-a0114, @caliseds

[twitchesandstitches]

I am kinda curious to see Tia interact with either Viomira or Ricca Mosley during one of these cycles, and what would happen.

“I heard that Miss Tia wasn’t feeling well,” said Ricca Mosley, walking carefully across the rickety drawbridges connecting the islets of land on the swampy region they’d been called to.

Viomira shook her head, thick hair swishing about on her shoulders. “She gets sick easy, I think, but that’s not the problem.”

Mosley kept going; she was a tall and curvaceous woman, built on broadly the same door-smashing lines as Viomira herself, but unlike the elf woman, she had declined to put on clothing suited towards a swampy region. She was starting to regret it, and struggling to keep the mud from taking a high-heeled shoe right off her foot. “Then, what is?”

“Um.” Viomira blushed deeply. “She goes through… cycles. Like heats. And ruts.”

“You make her sound like a beast.”

“She acts like it, sometimes.” Viomira’s tone was strange and thoughtful, a longing tone at the edges of her words. Her eyelashes fluttered, and her painted lips settled into a soft smile at the thought.

Mosley swallowed. She thought of the… bulk of the horde heroine she insisted on calling Miss Tia in a show of deference (as the mega corp she worked for operated on the lands of Tia’s clan, and thus she was their immediate superior, and she was nothing if not concerned with proper hierarchy, to Tia’s own amusement), and her face colored brightly.

Beside them, the water bubbled and rose. Pink light began to shine, writhing and twisting like longing hands moving towards them.

“We’re just… checking on her,” Viomira said, an urgency in her voice, as if she needed to find her now. And Mosley recalled that Viomira tended to be suddenly unavailable at regular intervals, and suspected that she knew the reason why.

Behind them, the water parted. A massive, humanoid and extremely feminine shape arose, and as an enormous tail curled away and rose up, both women noticed a strong and beguiling smell, and a potent need coursing towards them, a longing hunger crying at them to be sated.

Both women turned, the presence right behind them too intense to ignore.

The sun was filtered through the thick canopy of the forested wetland about them, and it gave a strange quality to the massive body now before them, slowly striding towards them. Skin, as black as latex, shimmered and sparkled faintly where the water sluiced off its massive form. ‘Curvaceous’ was a minor thing for such a tremendous body as this; breasts jiggled faintly in a crude bikini, dipping down nearly to her thighs, so massive that they were their own presence, teardrop-shaped and projecting out nearly as much as the giantess herself was tall.

And she was tall. As she approached, her sheer mass providing its own presence, both the women on the land barely came up to above her knees, overwhelmed by just how huge she was.

Her broad body, a fertile and plump shape made even broader by incredibly massive hips nearly twice as wide as the rest of her, approached with a patient slowness belied by the intensity boiled from the figure. Her black skin was marked by a number of nubby crests and dorsal projections along her back and shoulders, running down a massive tail twisting furiously behind her, all of them venting heat. Barely visible panels in her skin opened up, like biological air conditioners, and continuously pumped out excess plumes of heat as she came closer, so that she was surrounded by an aura of neon lights: pinks and blues, greens and purples, mixing together in a frantic glow as she drew closer, and closer.

They could smell her as she drew closer, and they felt the hunger, the passionate need, swelling out from her as she patiently crawled up the sides of the islet. Enormous thighs, so thick that their powerful muscles were hard to see clenching as they propelled her up, flexed minutely when she stepped upwards.

Her neck was long and thick, serpentine. Her face, framed within a mass of pink tentacles and sheets of pseudo-hair that descended down to the waters, beamed in relief and delight at them. Her eyes looked different, Mosley thought through a haze of intense attraction that made it difficult to think. A bit glazed over, dulled.

Tia came closer. The shorts girding her thighs and massive backside flexed, strained by a massive weight they couldn’t make out. Her smell was potent, alluring, and Mosley swallowed again, wavering on the spot. Oh, oh. She was… gorgeous. She couldn’t shake the sudden idea that Miss Tia would be the ideal father of her children, and a nagging thought came across her; an awareness of her own fertility, her own capability to carry Miss Tia’s offspring or eggs or even her duplicates, however her breeding impulses shook out…

Goodness. The thoughts crossing her mind, at the thought of the approaching monster-woman’s massive breasts and improbably sexual bulk, were so… lewd.

Tia stepped fully onto the land, waves of fertile energy pulsing out from them; both Viomira and Mosley could feel her transformative powers altering them, somehow, though there was no visible change they could see. Inside, their wombs were supercharged, insides subtly altered to most effectively receive Tia’s seed, the speed of gestation increased, their bodies adapting for the likely weight of inhuman levels of pregnancy.

Mosley felt her mouth water and her stance loosen as Tia drew closer, her evident need coursing at them like a siren’s call. Finally a massive foot stopped gently near her, and she looked up the massive shape of a monstrously huge thigh, and she felt an urge to scale it, or hug it, or squeeze herself into the semi-scaly skin just to see how it felt.

“Girls~!” Tia said brightly, leaning down slightly. Her breasts rose above them and descended, and both of them took a step back from the sloshing weights settling into the mud. “You came for me?”

Viomira stepped forward and hugged her, sinking her arms around the closest breast she could find. She nearly vanished into it, it was so soft and squishy. “Oh, I got your message about your annual cycle, and I couldn’t possibly stay away!”

Mosley weakly said, “I… suppose I can understand why…”

Tia turned to look at her, her expression brightening. There was a faint tearing sound. Mosley wondered what it was, and she saw scraps of clothing falling away from Tia’s thighs, torn apart by a monstrous weight.

Hopefully, Tia held her arms out, eyes wide with a desperation, a hopeful longing; it was a strange combination, but Mosley just didn’t have it in her to dismiss it. “Please, oh please let me love you both!”

Carefully, a bit timid, Mosley took one proffered hand; it was big enough to pick up her midsection, the fingers clumsy and suckered, but it was also very soft and gently shaped. Viomira simply swerved herself into the other hand, with an excited need that matched Tia’s, though coming from the opposite side, so to speak. Not to give, but to receive.

With a happy roar, Tia picked them both up. Her hair tentacles extended outwards, wrapping around their bodies, and with her sensitivity ramped up by the influence of Tia’s presence, Mosley moaned softly as the fluid tendril wrapped around the base of her large breasts, curling around her shoulder and into the base of her hair.

Destructive energies flooded out; it was the same power that could unmake castles or annihilate the most fearsome weapons, and it seemed Tia had the destruction of clothing in mind. Their outfits unfolding; fabric dissolved into a mass of threads that fell away, underwear came apart in much the same way, and their buttons and zippers, falling into the muck, made faint splashing noises. The air was cool, but Tia’s body, suddenly pressed so firmly against them as she slid them downwards, was so warm. Viomira panted and slid against Tia’s slick skin, and Mosley’s head spun. Goodness! How could someone’s body be so… perfectly erotic, so monstrously delightful?

Tia turned them about, so that they were both bent over, and so Mosley got only a glimpse of Tia’s current flavor in genitalia; a cluster of tentacles emerging from between her legs. A different kind from her hair tendrils, they were black as the rest of her and enormously thick, some as big across as Tia’s thighs: well over four feet wide, and as some curled out across Mosley’s stomach to brace between her breasts, longer than she was tall.

That was going inside her? A part of her mind not presently addled by lust thought: how?

She swallowed in mingled bewilderment and awe as one such tentacle slithered near her face. The head of it swelled out, though not much compared to the heft of the rest, brightening to green colors and faintly glowing. The whole thing was big enough for her to use as a mattress, and as it pressed against her in examination, she realized it was far softer and flexible than she’d expected. Her body sank into it. It was a lot more pliable than she expected.

Tia’s hair tendrils extended around her and Viomira, gracing their bodies. Up and down they slid, hot and delicate with little loving touches. On their sides, tracing little randomized patterns up to their breasts and onto their bellies. While it was plain that Tia’s desire was to simply rut with wild abandon, she still thought to rev them up.

Tia held them with her hands, gently and the suckers on her fingers and palms pressing at them, kissing at their breasts and arms. Little suppering smooches, pressing deeply and wetly. Viomira and Mosley, almost as a pair, sighed and gasped with each kiss.

It went on; not for long, and the fires were soon set ablaze in the both of them, and Mosley found herself sliding urgently, her body seemingly moving on its own, demanding to be filled.

Tia made a soft roaring noise in response.

Mosley gasped as something massive filled her. Slick and hot, with such suddenness that it was a shock. Genital tentacles, several of them, slid into her, and she made soft noises as the little nubs lining their sides moved against her insides just right to be pleasurable.

Goodness they were so big! They were bigger than she was!

Tia’s hips rose and fell, sliding her tentacles in and out of Viomira and Mosley, squeezing them with greater passion and enthusiasm. In and out; hips slamming up and down, into them.

Mosley’s eyes rolled back into her head as waves of pleasure inhibited conscious thought, and inside her, the tentacles did not ejaculate, but oozed reproductive fluids, pooling deeper into her in ways impossible for more conventional methods. She barely noticed her stomach beginning to swell, but it felt amazing, a slow, lovely burn, a sense of mounting satisfaction.

Tia wasn’t done yet, of course. She cried out, a mix of frustration and longing, and she kept sliding, in and out.

And she continued to do so, for hours.

She established a rhythm. She pulled and pushed the women, as she thrusted with increasingly powerful and deep strokes, grooming and loving them with the softest of touches, all coupled with decidedly inhuman purrs and rumbles. Her breasts swung up and down, blocking out the sunlight for the two women.

Viomira vibrated with delight, her sexual cravings fully awakened by the potent heat of Tia. Her brown belly swelled outwards, reaching towards the ground, roundness surprisingly firm with how packed it was with both reproductive fluids and the distended bulges Tia’s alien genitalia made in her body.

Mosley rode the ones inside her, gripping them tightly with her thighs, letting them drive in and out, sliding even deeper into her and expanding to get even bigger, each swell of growth coupled with an explosion of heat inside her, and her belly packing more into itself.

Both women, in their particular ways, adored what Tia did with them, doing their best to keep up with their loving leviathan; their stamina didn’t last that long, though, and even though Viomira was much more experienced at this, soon enough she simply lay back and rode the tide, and Mosley clung on for dear life, clenching like she was trying to force as much of Tia’s astounding monster-dicks into herself as possible.

There was no thought, for either of them. Just the insatiable pleasure of the moment.

Their bellies grew bigger as the hours went by, and Tia’s lust began to be satisfied.

And when she was done, and she pulled them up into proper cuddles as she lay down, their bellies were massively distended, and firm, already beginning to resolve into a mixture of eggs and chimeric young.

Tia planted heavy kisses on the both of their faces, beaming contentedly.

Mosley and Viomira were already passed out by this point, but subconsciously, they appreciated the gesture.

[meieuys]

And from I, to You

[Summary: It’s the day after the ball—the one where the Prince Charming picks his cinder-bride by her shoe size. Absolute insanity, yes, and Anastasia Tremaine knows of it. But she also knows a lot more other things, such as her gone-mad mother and the thoughts of oh-so-silent Drizella, her older sister. Holding the only slipper in existence, Anastasia also knows who the shoe fits exactly, but since when was she a good girl?]

It would not fit.

The glass slipper just wasn’t right.

It didn’t seem like it’d be a matter—at the time.

Now, Ana had chosen to help Mother slice Drizella’s heels off to fit.

“It’s only a little, Anastasia. Help your sister. Now.”

She was always helping. Surprised no one when she gave a curt nod, soon retreating to her room. The silent walls welcomed no one when she entered. Hadn’t this been Cinderella’s room before Mother took over? Even now, the room rejected her, as the slipper did.

The glass slipper was fortunately larger than her foot, so  she hadn’t had to slice her heel to fit.

Perhaps Drizella’s heel would be the finishing touch, and she would go live with the prince after all; abandoning her mother and her duties, helping no one no more. Well perhaps she could help the prince, after all, she had a many ideas of how to be the perfect princess. Balls, curtsies, you could name whatever it was, and Ana would be there. She was the helper—the only helper around these parts. Even then, as it was, rejected her too.

The happy memories with little Drizella and sane mother seemed to coerce her back into the depths of her both internal and external cocoon. She let out a short, deprecative chuckle. Ana was out of it, that or more. Thinking about it, she reached a conclusion. If Drizella had just let her be oh-so-nice to Cinderella at least once more, she thought, maybe she would spare a thought of whisking them away from Mother once and for all.

Alas, Drizella would never allow that, with her enormous pride, and so-so, ruling out fleeing to another continent. Plus—if it was possible to reach heights of peak intoxication before dropping dead, it would not hinder Mother before she walked up and bashed both Ana’s and Drizella’s skulls with her leather slipper. The poets speak about it, but experience is never the best teacher.

And if you’d ask her how she knew the slipper would fit on Cinderella’s dainty feet, she would’ve mumbled an incorrigible set of words and slumped on her prep-table, as she did now. Occurrences fit of insanity always seemed to happen to Cinderella. Drizella had joked of it being some kind of curse following the time Cinderella’s cursed birds had bit her nose, but Ana knew it was more.

Ana considered shattering the glass slipper—watching the pieces break into completely immeasurable shards of her glass and glass, thorough. She hoped it might help her, but it wouldn’t, really. She stared at the slipper in her grip, the familiar sound of glass cracking.

Mother often got violent with Cinderella, and sometimes, Ana would pause outside Cinderella’s door, hoping she was alright and well. It was just her inner desire—to make sure that even with the chaos and their desire not to let any of it change, they would at the least be alive to relish it.

She remembered the time Cinderella caught her, her face bruised and tired. In Ana’s hands were several bandages, and she placed them down. They stared at each other for a long time before resuming to their duties, fractures of both their words hesitant to make the step. Cinderella had signalled to speak first.

Ana remembered a short conversation they had, where Cinderella relayed her fears and wants. It seemed like they weren’t from separate worlds, just two girls, having a chat despite their differences.

Cinderella had talked and talked, oh-so-long, desperate for Ana to listen. It seemed like she was concerned with her own significance in the eye of it all. Mother’s violent tendencies would definitely impact any sane person’s health, but it had completely pushed Cinderella to a conclusion where she felt like she didn’t understand why she was there, then and why. Her father was dead, her mother was dead, and her stepsisters treated her as close to horse-dung as possible. And horse-dung just... stank.

But one of her stepsisters was there, listening intently, so she had toned the abrasiveness of her words. Still, it stung. Under normal circumstances, Ana wouldn’t have condoned her actions toward Cinderella, but she had no excuse. She could speak days of what Cinderella really meant under her subtle glances and rushed words, but Cinderella had tried to be acceptable towards her. Cinderella had isolated her identity from the world under the pain, and she really did not seem to attempt speak of herself as in the ways of any normal person.

To her, she was lowly and confused, and it was integrated oh-so-deep. She had lost everything. She blamed herself for everything. For... every single of the things. Ana could see how withdrawn she was from both the world, and her true self, and it disgusted her so much she felt direly uncomfortable in her own skin. Why had she let this happen? She ached and ached to reach out to Cinderella and help her realise that she just understood, to tell her how much she cared for her wellbeing and safety, and how much she resented and realised how much her actions hurt Cinderella. But ultimately, she could not. She didn’t know why, but she knew how much it felt—and she hated it.

Anastasia hated every fibre in her being. It was not pleasant. She had the flesh, but her body would not call it hers. She despised herself, and even Mother and Drizella were not to be free from her seemingly endless refusal-to-blame.

Years of Mother’s and Drizella’s repression could not be erased by one simple girl. Ana knew that, oh-so. She tried. Cinderella got more dependent on Ana as the times went and passed, aching for the instability that Ana seemed to emanate. Ana’s complex feelings and the overwhelming betrayal she could’ve caused her sense of morality to fluctuate wildly, and along with her muddled blame, continuing to bring out the absolute worst in her.Cinderella should not have wanted that discord so strongly that she did. It was the only thing she had, but it wasn’t... right. It wasn’t just, and to that, it wasn’t right. Cinderella deserved better. She did.

Weeks of mood swings and migraines had, of course, alerted Mother and Drizella, and one evening, while strolling through the garden, Mother had noticed the two girls chatting. It had been the last straw. For some reason unknown to man, she exploded. There was to be a ball to display eligible girls for the prince, and even though Ana found it quite distasteful, she agreed to go. If she was some kind of runner-up, at least it would be bountiful news. It upset Cinderella when Mother ordered her not to go, among other things, and Ana was pleasantly surprised to see that she wasn’t the slightest bit bothered by it after.

Nevertheless, it wasn’t a competition.

Ana sighed, stepping out from her room. It seemed like everything wasn’t going right. The prince had been with a seemingly ghost throughout the ball, never pausing to entertain another noble lady. Her thin, small frame glided through the corridors, stopping at the stairs. Mother had already shattered the other shoe. Who was to say they had another replica at their disposal? She closed her eyes and pursed her lips.

Cinderella’s calloused fingers shook her out of her thoughts, her hand resting on Ana’s bare shoulders. She didn’t say a word. Cinderella didn’t have to. Ana... knew. Her eyes had inevitably found hers at the ball. Poets would argue it was because of their common insanities. Ana didn’t know of any poets. Still, Ana forced herself to turn away from the inevitable. Now, it faced her on all sides.

Ana handed her the slipper, but Cinderella’s hands didn’t leave her shoulder. Her mind drifted. Sometimes, she didn’t think. Her mind was blank, and her eyes only focused on the girl before her.

“And from I, to you,” Ana smiled, her words hazy. “Be alright, cinder-girl.” 

“Am I fine in thinking you would not want to come with me?” Cinderella inquired. There was no malice, no silently laced words. There was only Cinderella.

And she knew that by leaving everything Ana ever wanted—someone to truly love her as her, and not by obligation—there was no second “Oh, have you been faring well?” This was the end.

“Yes. I’ve realised some things,” she sighed, a sad smile on her face. “Half of those, I have no idea what are. But I understand the thoughts behind those things. Mother—Drizella—I can’t leave them.” 

“I know. Will you stay?” The word hanged in the air, but Cinderella refused to say them. Ana smiled, the edges of her eyes crinkling.

“Forever...? I need to, Cinder. I’m not so sure it’s a question. They’ll run themselves mad. Mother probably would, at least.”

They shared a chuckle. Setting the slipper down, Cinderella hugged Ana, squeezing her tight. She attempted one, but the air felt too heavy for any goodbyes. Instead, she waved awkwardly and set downstairs for her prince.

She deserved him, after all. Ana wasn’t so sure if he did, though. She laughed at the thought. Clutching the banister, Cinderella turned one last time.

“Thank you.” 

Turning to their duties, they both returned to their worlds. As different or similar they might’ve been, none mattered now. It was the end, and that was true and true. 

• i wanted to integrate some character personality stuff i learned of recently,, but... i was too lazy to do anything since i wanted to focus on the characters, and not the setting, so i... did something.

• it is rushed, yes, and in the—as some published writers like to call it 😔—the horrible rough draft phase. there is no plot, as many as my works are going to be. i do not confine myself to pains of plot elements till the third date draft :D

• i really really love character psych!! that’s it!! (disclaimer: if the writing does not meet up to your standards i’m an amateur writer, so you can go ahead and tell me  “oh iu, this stuff is really good omfg!! you should publish it!!!”) ;D

• not all of this is actually right. since i barely focused on some other aspects i choose to focus on one part of my characters, and not everything, so there will obviously be some lack. i also loooove minimalistic writing and will shorten sentences like crazy and have many people weirded out because of it but i just like to play around (there’s not a lot of it since my auto correct kept being trash) also it’s not spell checked

• don’t own any of these characters, they belong to disney. i just wrote the wrote! ty for reading