#and the fact that I fear for my life going into a cub foods or a movie theater or a fucking HOSPITAL

[lyanro]

I don’t want to live in this world lolllllll

[muichiroslover]

Heyo could I request a ban x reader

Where ban and y/n first started dating before elaine so when elaine got into the picture she was a little jealous of their relationship and would try and break them up. And so one day ban and y/n got into an argument, the next day y/n and all of her stuff was gone. Elaine thinking it was a perfect time to take ban tries to comfort him but all he can think about is y/n. So eventually he finds y/n and apologizes in which y/n forgives him.

HAPPY ENDINGG

(Srry If its 2 long u don't have to do it if u dont want 2) (also I do not hate elaine xD)

Hi hi!! Yes I love this idea I love me some angst with happy ending 👀 I hope this is to your liking butterscotch!! <33 enjoy (●’◡’●)ﾉ♥︎♥︎

(Sorry it’s a little late ☹︎)

Pairings: Ban x reader

Warnings: Mentions of blood and wounds (not bad)

Genre: Angst with happy ending

_______________________________________________

You and ban had been a couple for as long as you could remember, at first it was kind of hard to approach him when you guys first met but when you guys had warmed up to each other you guys were absolutely inseparable

You guys did everything together and you were so well known your couple name around towns were “The bandit couple”

As you guys explored the world one night Ban brought up news about this drink that could give you immortality, using the sly line

“Then we can be together forever”

To which you laughed and hit him playfully, but he was entirely serious, you sighed and ended up agreeing to your adventurous boyfriends plan, if it wasn’t real at least you guys would have a fun time

So you guys began your journey to the fairy kings forest, when you guys had finally got to the tree you looked up and groaned

“That’s a huge tree, do we have to climb it?” You ask and he snorts as he already begins getting his hands and legs ready to climb

“You don’t have to, you can wait down here” he says smugly and you glare at the back of his head

“No I’m coming, I might as well see it through” you mutter annoyed to which he laughed

“That’s my girl” he says and you look away in embarrassment, feeling flustered at the comment which almost sent the blue haired man flying off the tree in amusement

As you guys climbed and finally made it to the top a girl, a little one at that looked at you both with a straight face as she puts her hand up and a huge wind blows you guys off

You scream in fear as you get blown far back and far above the ground, Ban grits and teeth and clicks his tongue as he grabs you as you guys start falling and takes the impact

You quickly got off of him and looked at him, tears almost in your eyes

“Oh my god! Ban! Ban I’m so sorry I didn’t mean for you to take the impact! Ban!! Ban-“ you frantically said to the man on the ground who’s eyes were closed

“If you keep calling my name out like that it’d be plain bullying if I didn’t wake up” he groans as he slowly sits up and you quickly hug him to which he chuckles and embraces you back

“Alright let’s try again” he says and your eyes widen slightly

“But ban-“ you begin and he just looks at you with his normal goofy smile you can never turn down, you sigh, deeply may I add and look at him

“Okay..I trust you” you say and he grins even wider as he grabs your hand and stands up as you guys started running towards the tree

The same thing happened a few times, it hurt, a lot but Ban never let you get too injured, always taking the impact of the fall even if you tried to fight with his grip in the air

The last time you guys got up there Ban grabbed his weapon and your eyes widen slightly thinking he was gonna attack the little girl

But he manipulated his staff and instead grabbed the cub with his weapon, You gasped as you two got quickly bounded by trees and the girl took the cup from Bans hand

The girl stands in front of you guys seemingly doing something then she lets us both go, Ban started explaining why you guys wanted immortality and those of such, You didn’t expect him to tell her his whole life’s story but

“Well shes too strong Y/n, let’s just go back” he says smiling at you as he holds out his hand, you smile lightly and nod as you grab it and you both head back down the tree

You guys were camping near the tree those days you were climbing it, you decided you’d stay another week since the fairy kings forest is actually quite pretty and you wanted to explore a bit before leaving since this opportunity may never come again

One night as you laid asleep in your sleeping bag you felt moving, you opened your eyes groggily to see your boyfriend quietly leaving the tent, you thought nothing of it, maybe he was going to pee or he was extra hungry or there was something dangerous nearby

Ignoring it you let yourself fall back into a deep slumber

But as the days and nights continued he kept sneaking out, you started getting suspicious so on the 4th night he snuck out you waited a little bit pretending you were sleeping and after a few minutes you slowly crept out of the tent

You looked around whispering your boyfriends name, this could be a huge misunderstanding after all

You went all around the forest and no sight of Ban

You went back to the tent and looked in, maybe you missed him?? But nope he wasn’t in there

You finally stopped in front of the tree and looked up, remembering the girl that resided there, logically speaking she was older then both of us since fairy’s live longer

“He didn’t” you whisper, you didn’t want to think, no you absolutely were wrong, must be seeing the wrong picture

Your boyfriend of years and hardships is not sneaking out at night to meet up with another girl, no it sounds absurd even thinking about it

‘I’ll just climb and check and I’ll be wrong, I’ll take the wind blow’ you think nodding your head reassuring yourself

You start climbing up the tree as quietly as possible, when you finally made it up and peaked up your mouth fell agape as you saw Ban and the girl chatting and laughing, all close

It surprised you so much that you lost grip on the tree and fell back, you rolled down the tree as if it was a hill, your limbs flying to and fro as you finally hit the bottom

You groaned quietly in pain

“What was that?” Ban says as he stops his conversation with Elaine hearing a soft thump

Elaine looks to the side

“ I didn’t hear anything?” She says and Ban shrugs as they continue to talk

You on the other hand shakily get up as you look at yourself, your arm was bleeding but you don’t know from where, your left ankle was sprained for sure, and your back was killing you it probably had a horrible bruise forming

A tear slipped out as you limped to the tent, you sat down as you grabbed bandages and started cleaning your wounds, the blood was coming from a gash just below your shoulder, probably from a sharp branch

You put a stick in your mouth as you took a deep breath, you grabbed some of Bans alcohol and poured it over the cut, you bit down harshly on the stick but no scream made it through, tears can’t say the same though

You spit out the stick as you breathed hard, every breath of air seeming like you haven’t had oxygen for a while, you take a bandage and wrap it around your arm securely

Usually you would make herbs for wounds and etc, but your hands were shaky, mind a daze and eyes blurry from tears

You wrapped up your sprained ankle and just let your back be in pain because there wasn’t much you could do about the pain back there

You sat silently in the tent waiting for your boyfriend to arrive, he did not arrive till the morning, about an hour and a half before you would usually wake up

When he opened the tent and saw you staring blankly at his empty sleeping bag he went to you and was about to touch your shoulder to ask you what was wrong but you jerked back

He was surprised as you looked at him, your eyes puffy, a huge sign you were crying

“Y/n what-“

“Where were you last night Ban?” You ask and he goes silent

“No in fact where were you the past 4 nights??” You ask and he sighs

“Y/n I just went out to explore and hunt, the foods not gonna come to us-“

You scoff, tears forming up, if he’s lying then is it true that he..

“You’re lying Ban, you’re lying to me” you grit out and he looks at you a little confused but mostly surprised

“What?”

“You were up there in that tree with that girl..” you say dangerously quiet and he sighs his head falling as he realizes he’s been caught and it looks totally wrong too

“Y/n..” he begins and you shake your head

“No no dont Y/n me, why did you lie and why were you sneaking out?!” You shout

“Y/n we were just talking I swear, I lied because I didn’t know how you would react-“

“HOW I WOULD REACT? HOW WOULD YOU REACT IF I WAS SNEAKING OFF LATE AT NIGHT AND MEETING UP WITH SOME GUY BAN?? HUH??!” You ask pushing him back but you wince as the wound near your shoulder moves

Ban notices this then notices the bandage on your arm and ankle

“Y/n what happened?” He asks quickly as he pulls your ankle into his palm to examine it, but you pull it back quickly

“You’re not even answering me, I-I can’t believe this, I can’t.” You say as you lay down in your sleeping bag, you were extremely tired from staying up the whole night already

You laid on the opposite side you usually lay on because of the wound on your other shoulder and thankfully it was the side not facing Ban

You guys didn’t speak for the whole day and when night came you woke up only to see Ban gone

“Y-You’re kidding” you whisper, you quickly get out, you run to the tree as you go up the route you began to remember with your mind at this point

You climbed up skillfully fast ignoring the roaring pain in both your ankle and shoulder, you peaked up and not to your surprise you see Ban and Elaine speaking under the oh so romantic fairy lights

With no sound you climbed back down, you walked to your tent and went in, grabbing your bag you grabbed your herbs, bandages, clothes and canned foods, leaving some for Ban even in your mood

You rolled up your sleeping bag and dig the dirt under as you grabbed your bag of coins, you and Ban always hid your money in case of any intruders, you guys were bandits after all

You take your money and put it in your bag as you get out the tent and leave

Ban returned back in the morning, he had asked Elaine what he should do to fix things and what a girl usually would like in this type of situation, you guys had never fought so bad to the point you didn’t speak the whole entire day

He was scared you were actually done with him, he had a few picked flowers in his hand and he took a deep breath as he opened the tent

But his eyes widen when he sees your stuff gone and your sleeping bag rolled up, he drops the flowers as he looks around frantically

“Y/N?? Y/N WHERE ARE YOU?!” He yelled, he ran everywhere around the forest looking for you, but you were no where in sight

By the time night fell he still couldn’t find you and it felt like his whole world was collapsing in front of him, he couldn’t think and he couldn’t even yell anymore bc he was sure he lost his voice by how loud and long he was screaming your name

He quickly wiped a tear that rolled down his cheek as he quickly climbed the tree, Elaine looked over at him worriedly

“You didn’t come at our usual time I was worried” she said and looks away blushing slightly

“She left Elaine! She left and I can’t find her anywhere” he says as he falls onto his knees and the tears finally come out

“She left me Elaine I-“ he says hoarsely

Elaine frowns sadly as she goes over and hugs him

“Well Ban...maybe she wasn’t the right one..there’s other people who can make you happy” she says

“Her injuries, she had bandages on her right arm and an injury on her ankle as well! She can get really hurt out there I have to find her” he cried

“Ban she left you, maybe it’s time to move on” Elaine says hintfully and lets go of Ban as she flies to the cup, she gives it to Ban and smiles at him

“Really?” He asks and she nods blushing a bit, he drank it slowly and when Elaine wasn’t looking he poured some inside of a glass bottle

“Ban I like-“ Elaine begins but Ban gets up

“I’m sorry Elaine I think this is the last time you’ll be seeing me, I checked every inch of the forest last night so that means Y/n has left the forest, I’m gonna be leaving as soon as I make it to the tent and get my stuff” he says to the girl who’s face falls in despair

“W-What wait but Ban she-“ she began

“She left? She had a good reason, if I was in her position I’d be upset too I can’t blame her” he says running a hand through his hair

“B-BUT SHE-SHE” Elaine tries to plead but stops when she sees Ban smile at her

“No matter what she did or does, she’s the only one my heart races for, in life or in death Y/n is my one true love so...wherever she goes I’ll chase her” he says and with that he jumps off the tree

Elaine falls to her knees as she watches the spot Ban once stood in, her head falling down as tears fell on to the tree

Ban had gotten to the tent and began packing all his stuff he got his money bag from under his sleeping , though he wonders where you hid yours and leaves

He travels for towns and towns looking for you, he had finally found you but much to his dismay you got captured since you were injured and were in a pretty tight situation as you were on death row

He watched as you and other prison mates were in a yard just doing your own things, you were laying on a bench staring at the sky

“Pssst”

You look up quickly and look around not seeing anyone, you were about to lay back down

“Pssst Y/n!”

You look around again noticing the familiar voice

“I must be going crazy” you mutter as you hold your forehead

“You’re not! Look over here!”

You slowly look to the side of the fence you were near and your eyes slowly landed on a bush, soon blue hair popped up from behind the bush and Ban gave you that grin of his

“Ban!” You say, a smile on your face, but you quickly replace it by a scowl and look away from him

He smiles slightly at that

“Y/n come on look at me” he whispers and you begrudgingly look over at him and he smiles, causing you to get flustered and your scowl to shake trying not to smile

“What are you doing here, you better hurry up and escape before they catch you too” you whisper not looking at him, instead watching the guards

He laughs

“As if I would leave you in a jail cell, come on let’s go” he says and you look at him stupidly

“Let’s go? No thanks death row isn’t that bad” you say coldly and he sighs

“Fine, guess we have to do this the hard way” he says shrugging

“HEY GUARDS” He shouts and your eyes widen as you sit up and block him with your body as the guards and inmates look at you

“UHH YEAH GUARDS, UHM YOUR ZIPPERS DOWN” you say and cringe deeply when the guards both look down and one coughs as he zips up his zipper, the inmates laughing

When everything died down you looked at Ban deadly

“Are you crazy?” You whisper

“Crazy for you”

Your mouth closes as you try to not blush but it’s inevitable as your brows unfurrow and a small smile takes over

“There’s that smile I love” he says and you roll your eyes as you huff slightly

“You better explain, I’m not giving you another chance so don’t you lie to me” you say and he nods quickly like a dog, you can basically see the tail behind him wagging

“Now step back babe, you’re boyfriends here to save you” he says smugly and you roll your eyes as you back up

He takes out his staff and in a swift motion breaks the fence, the guards all look over

“HEY” one shouts and you gasp as Ban quickly scoops you up and starts running

“It’s okay! I’ll take this bandit off your hands!” He shouts amused as he runs, he runs into a forest and does many turns eventually losing the guards who had to return back before any other inmates escaped

He puts you down lightly and you cross your arms to which he snorts

“I can run you know” you say and he shakes his head as he leans down and takes out a jar of green stuff

“They’re not as good as yours but they should do” he says and he gently takes your leg as he pulls up the inmate suit and sees your swollen ankle

“Tch stupid guards didn’t even treat it” he mutters as he takes some of the green cream and slowly and gently rubs it over your ankle

You can’t lie this felt really good but

“The first night I went up to try to plead for the youth drink” he says and you look at him

“The second night I went up to try and bribe for the youth drink”

“The third night I spoke to her, I tried to get to know her so she can see we have no bad intentions but one night wasn’t enough”

“The 4th night she had decent trust in me, so we continued talking”

He sighed as he started wrapping the bandage around your ankle softly, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Ban this gentle

“And the 5th night?” You ask and he looks to the side, you noticed a slight blush

“The 5th night I asked advice on what I should do to make you forgive me..” he mutters and your mouth falls agape slightly, it slowly forms into a small smile

“I’m sorry for not letting you explain..” you say and he shakes his head

“No, I can see how this looked from your perspective” he says as he rolls up your sleeves and switches the old bloodied bandages on your arm

You chuckle softly

“So I guess we can’t be together forever” you say sighing and as he rubs the herb cream on your bruised back he raises his eyebrow and pulls out a glass bottle with pink liquid

“Sorry but you’re not escaping me so easily” he says and you gasp as you grab the bottle and look at it

“This is really it??” You say looking back at him and he nods proudly

You slowly open it and drink it, but you didn’t feel that different

“Did it work?” You ask and he shrugs to which you deadpan

That day you both held hand as you jumped off a cliff, when you landed you guys sat up as you laughed and high fived, it worked

After a few months both you and Ban were caught purposely cause life began to get boring, you both sat in the same cell, after 33 executions you both are still alive in confinement

“I win” you say as you cross an all three X’s on the tic tac toe you made on the dirt in the ground

“You’re cheating” Ban replies and you laugh

Soon the door blows open and you two looked over to see a short man with blonde hair, you both smiled as Meliodas smiled back at you two

“Glad to see you two are still lovebirds”

[melusinah]

There's this rare event I got once while playing as the king of Corsica and Sardinia.

It all started long ago,years before....

My king, King Albano the III, was mad. Not quite "elect a horse to be chancellor" mad but quite insane still. It was plain to see, what with his odd ravings and the fact that he would strip naked and howl at the moon in the middle of a dinner with his courtiers... It didn't instill any hope in his underlings that His Majesty was in his right mind.

Now, don't think this made him a bad king. His people loved him, he doted on his children and stayed faithful to his wife through the years (except for the bastard but he found the boy and claimed it as his own, since he alleged it came from a rose bush fae he slept with, so who really knows). He made odd laws, like No Pants Allowed, which passed in the year 993, stating nobody should be restricted by life force sucking pants, thus making them illegal. But he did love and defend his homeland with righteous and furious anger, making the whole nudist thing a little easier to deal with.

One day, years ago, he decided to ride out into the countryside and hunt as he did when his country was at peace finallly. He came across a bear who was quite aggressive. Fearing his life, he nocked an arrow and sent it through the beasts skull, felling it. Though he couldn't have guessed that she had a single cub crying out nearby. Feeling his guilty sin deep in his heart, he quickly dismounted his horse and scooped the baby beast into his arms, rocking it, whispering that he would now take care of his new son. He vowed this to God and the cub's mother, not a day would go by where this baby felt neglected.

So he rode back to the castle to tell his wife. Nobody is sure if anyone told him this was just a bear cub, or maybe the king would throw a fit if anyone tried to doubt the bear's legitimacy, but it stayed there nonetheless. It ate dinner with the court and the human children the king later had, wore custom tailored clothing, to which the king stated his son was "a little cubby but some weight never hurt anybody", and even had its own bedchamber.

As the bear's 16th birthday drew near the king woke in the night to the sound of an awful snoring. He knew which room it came from so he tried to write it off as his son just growing into a man and shoved a pillow over his ears. Months later he would notice all of his honey was eaten! How would he eat his breakfast without it? The distraught cook told the king of a thief in the night who would break open and eat honey straight from the jars! What's worse is the burglar only left clumps of fur behind...what a mystery....

That wasn't it, his dear son was beginning to grow hairy. He knew some people could be extremely hairy but this was a little much. He began to wonder what could be wrong....

The king sought fit to have portraits of his loved ones made and had become furious upon finding the damned painter had given his son a horrible huge, comical nose! The nerve!

His son's 16th birthday approached quickly and the king had a party set up just for him. At the birthday feast he made sure to break out only the finest wines he had saved over the years and brought in famous cooks to prepare meals. There were jugglers, jesters, beautiful dancing women, music playing. It was fun! And his son seemed to be in great spirits, stuffing his face with all the food on the table. Then, in what can only be described as a moment of brief clarity, he set down his wine glass and stared at his son. He stood suddenly, slamming his hands on the table, startling the courtiers.

"is that a fucking bear? Has he always been a bear?!"

Nobody knew what to say. Then the king's eyes darkened as the memory of the bear's mother and her death came back and he slumped back in his chair. He never mentioned it again, nor did anyone else dare to either. This was his son. His hairy bear son.

And that's how bears and horses came to run all of Corsica by the year 1300.

[art-of-love-and-war]

Hi I hope your requests are still open if they can I request a one shot for masamune where the mc is pregnant but she is kinda afraid to tell him him being his spirited and wild self thinking that he might not like to have a baby yet but masamune finds out some how something like that maybe like a angst with I happy ending

New adventures

Pairing: Date Masamune x Reader

Rating: PG 13(?) (Just because there’s some spice mentioned, but nothing explicit)

Word count:  1,400 words

Warning/s: Pregnancy themes, very slight angst

Notes: Hello everybody! Please remember that my inbox is always open if anyone would like to request something!

Thank you for this request, it’s been a really long time since I’ve played Masamune’s route so trying to remember how is he like romantically was kind of a fun challenge to me

How would you tell him? It had to be soon or else, he’d have to find out on his own in the bad and un-pretty way, which included the nausea that you were forcing to hide, the fatigue, the moodiness.

New adventures

Your hands were shaking as you took a deep breath, trying to conjure enough courage to touch your body, blood turning to ice inside your veins.

How could you possibly be so dumb to not worry about this…kind of situation? And yet, you had been able to forget it somehow during your long nights of passion with Masamune.

You had been trying to convince yourself that your period was late this month due to the stress that your routine put you under and not just because you were—you shook your head.

This wasn’t something you could hide from Masamune, not when the child you were carrying was his.

The love you professed to Masamune was not a lie, and, in your times, it wouldn’t be weird for a couple to have a child before getting married formally, but the mere implication of having a child now, when you were still unmarried and this child would be born without the wonders of modern medicine frightened you.

But the thought that weighed you down was if Masamune wanted to have children.

Talking about children with him was a weird occurrence; he had told you that he’d like to have them with you after a time when you were already settled down and the political situation had gotten better. And that happened to not be the case.

Recently, you and he had been working nonstop, after a not-so-small conflict broke in by the border of the territory, and winter approaching didn’t make things any easier.

The situation itself was not a good one, combined with the fact that you and Masamune had barely seen each other in the last couple of weeks.

You wouldn’t be able to hide it any longer and it was more evident now, as you looked at yourself in the mirror after your bath.

You could say that your body was the same, but you knew yourself too well to notice the smallest bump in your belly starting to show. You laughed to yourself helplessly, thinking that you looked more bloated than pregnant, but then you imagined yourself a few months later with a big and round belly.

There was no turning back, even if you wished you could have been more prepared.

As you dressed and laid in bed, the only thought that now occupied your mind was that your fast-paced, adventurous, and wild boyfriend might not be ready to completely settle down.

It was not a pleasant thought to have.

***

Masamune sighed heavily, running his fingers through his hair in exhaustion when he slid the door open to his room, finding that the futon was already occupied by the most adorable of kittens –sorry Shogetsu--.

He smiled at your sleeping form, figuring that you were too; exhausted from working in your endless winter commissions and that you couldn’t wait for him awake this time.

He didn’t blame you, and he made a mental note to himself to try to make up with you for the lost time, seeing that lately, you both had been so busy and without time to see and talk to each other for more than a minute.

Masamune, as he started to undress to change into his sleeping robes, was already planning to make your favorite warm foods, maybe you could dine together and watch the snowfall from the sky, hug you close to his body and kiss the life out of you to make up for being so busy and to make you relax as you were always pressuring yourself with work.

He slipped into the futon as quietly as possible, trying to not wake you up, and he was glad when you didn’t, and yet he hummed thoughtfully.

Someone as hardworking as you would always be awake the first hour in the morning, ready to put yourself to work, yet you had been waking up so late and sleeping so soundly, more so than normal. It was…odd.

And he wrapped his arms around you, bringing you against his body to keep you warm during the night, missing your touch and you to nuzzle him.

He fell asleep with a couple of questions crossing his mind, trying to decipher if the whispers among maids were true and several more things he needed to think of and discuss with you in the morning.

***

You woke up with the pleasant sensation of calloused fingers caressing your hair away from your face; you blinked once, twice, adjusting your sight to the pale light of the cold morning.

“Masamune?” You asked, sitting up and trying not to wince with the sudden and uncomfortable feel of your robe against your sore breasts. “What time is it?”

“Good morning, kitten.” He smiled at you, gently cupping your face in his hands to take a good look at you in your sleepy form. “I think we both slept in later than normal.”

You tried to stretch, but your body wouldn’t cooperate, as usual, whimpering while stretching your arms over your head. “Goodness, I feel sore everywhere” you whined, lying back down to rest.

Masamune reached with his hand and rubbed your shoulder, “You’ve been working too much lately… Have you seen a doctor? I wouldn’t want you to fall ill during winter.”

You forced a smile, reaching to take his hand in yours. “I swear I’m okay, tiger.”

How would you tell him? It had to be soon or, he would have to find out on his own in the un-pretty way, which included nausea that you were forced to hide, the fatigue, the moodiness.

You watched as Masamune stood up, reaching for the kettle that he’d probably warmed up before you woke up.

“Kitten,” he poured the hot tea over the cups, brows furrowed deep in thought, “Are you sure you aren’t under the weather? Women pains?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, looking away for a moment.

So he had noticed something was off.

You had to sit up again when he offered you the warm cup; the scent of tea made your nausea back off for the moment, giving you relief and warmth as you sipped on the warm liquid.

“Well…”

You saw a dangerous glint in his eye, a teasing-yet-knowing smirk curving his lips.

“I’ve heard some rumors with the castle staff, you know?” He let out a light-hearted chuckle.

You gulped, stopping mid-sip and feeling the bile rise to your throat again in horror. “Rumors about what?”

Masamune leaned close to you, and in a swift movement, he stole a chaste kiss from your lips, making you gasp at the sudden action.

“Masamune?”

“I was thinking…Tadamune if they are a boy, Iroha if they are a girl!”

“Masamune!” You yelled, trying to quiet him as he kept rambling and rambling about names until your cries and begs were overpowered by his joyous laughter.

This time, he stole another kiss, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I never let anything slip, kitten. You should know me by now!”

“But I thought…-I mean we have never talked about this. I don’t know if we are ready. I don’t know if I am ready.”

There it was.

It was not that you doubted Masamune; you even admired him for keeping his cool yet throwing himself head-first into every challenge and battle that crossed his path. It was more that you didn’t want to admit that you were scared of going through this, fear of not being strong enough, or prepared enough.

This time, you felt Masamune’s embrace, strong arms wrapping around your body, a kiss against your brow to make you feel reassured.

“We’ve gone through worse. You’ve shown me you are strong. I think we are more than ready for this…And you and I? Having a little cub?--”

“Shogetsu is going to be mad if he hears you.”

“Shogetsu is my golden boy, hush. But it makes me happy. I want to be there with you, I want to love you and our child for as long as my heartbeats.”

You looked into his eye, knowing that he spoke nothing but the truth. Reaching to caress his face with your hand, you broke into a giggle, feeling your tears flowing from your eyes as you threw yourself to him, not intending to let him go.

If you had him, you were ready for this new adventure

[funtimebunnyblog]

Okay so first off, I love bears! 😭 they’re so cute! I would have one as a pet if I could. How do you think the pillarmen would react to their s/o finding a bear and immediately becoming friends with it? Doesn’t matter that it’s literally a wild animal. It saw s/o and was like “this is my friend now” and it follows her everywhere. But the bear is “submissive” to her. It doesn’t attack at all and does that thing where it shows it’s belly to her all the time. The bear likes the pillar men, but not as much as it loves s/o.

Ahhh! My dear Anon, this is is such a sweet idea! 🥰🥰🥰 I have the very same feelings about keeping a Fox as a Pet ❤ I very much would if I could! 😌

This started out as a few simple headcanons buuuuut~... 😅 I got carried away and turned it into a full fic! 😘😇 Please “bear” with me and enjoy! 🐻🐻🐻

The Pillarmen’s s/o brings Home a Bear...  (A bit of a long fic; Under the cut for length!)

(I’ll stop making bear puns from this point on, I swear! I just couldn’t pass up the chance to use this picture. in any case... Please do not attempt anything that your read here with a real life Bear or any woodland creature that is dangerous for that matter! If you happen to find a lost little Bear in your travels, do the responsible thing and contact a forestry! ~FunBun)

  "What," Your head snapped up as someone spoke from behind; your eyes trailing up a most familiar muscular torso to eventually meet the disapproving gaze of Kars looming over you. The Pillarman's eyes were wide and his face unreadable, "is that?"

There you were, sitting on the front porch which was not an abnormal occurrence as this was your house and you did as you pleased...

Except for, of course, the fact that you were cradling a LIVING BABY BEAR in your lap and hand-feeding it a peanut butter sandwich!

"...A Friend." You said after a long moment, blinking up at the behemoth of a man. The Cub in your arms grasped at your hand with two huge chubby-toed paws as you pushed the last chunky bit of sandwich into its awaiting mouth; happily chewing away as if it didn't have a bother in the world.

Kars let out a long sigh, his barreled chest heaving as he reached up to pinch the space between his painted eyes with a forefinger and thumb.

"Why?" He questioned.

It was really the only thing he could say in that moment as thousands of questions rolled through his head like flotsam and jetsam. The Pillarmen struggled to keep a hold on himself, trying to give you the benefit of the doubt first before giving you the scolding he so wanted to.

He and the others knew very well you loved animals, which pleased the Pillarmen as they were Men who valued nature and precious life; Kars was no exception. They were most especially aware of your specific fixation on Bears but Kars never so much as gave the love for the creature a second thought.

However, right now, while you held a living Bear in your lap he was beginning to wish he had thought to tell you not to do something as foolish as take one in.

"Hey! I didn't do anything!" You defended yourself, allowing the Bear Cub you cradled to lick the remnants of the gooey sandwich from your fingers. You know exactly what he was thinking; he thought you deliberately went out and took the Bear!

Really, you hadn't done anything! Well... not this time anyways.

It all started when you had gone out for your morning walk in the woods, you happened to enjoy the crisp Spring air this time of year and it was a good way to get out of the house for a bit and away from the noise of the Four Pillarmen you adored that were living with you.

It was only when you were halfway down your usual route when you realized there was a little black Bear Cub following right behind you.

At first, you had feared the worst. Normally where there was a baby, there was a Mother not very far behind and despite your love for Bears you REALLY didn't want to have an encounter an angry Mother Bear that was searching for her lost baby and happened to think you were the one that took it. You did your best to avoid the baby Bear, walking fast and pretending not to notice it in hopes that it would simply give up tailing you eventually and go on its own way back to where it came from, despite the tugging of your heartstrings.

After some time of attempted avoid and evade the Cub didn't leave your side, ambling close at your heals and beginning to cry out for your attention. It became obvious to you it was all alone and even more obvious that it was hungry; as soon as it saw you it thought to remedy both those things.

Always having a big heart, you just couldn't bring yourself to leave the poor thing all alone out in the woods; especially not when it was clinging to your leg and looking up at you with those big honeyed eyes pleadingly...

You weren't supposed to get caught. You had planned to keep him a secret for at least a little while.

You had lead the baby back to the house and left it outside to its own devices on the doorstep for just a moment. Meanwhile you slipped into the kitchen to make, not one, but two peanut butter sandwiches to feed it. You really didn't have anything else to give it, you hadn't been expecting to feed a hungry little Bear anytime soon and there was nothing in it that would hurt the Cub anyways as it was mostly protein.

Your early return from your walk had gone unnoticed by the others (at least at first).

Thankfully, Santana hadn't been in the kitchen raiding the fridge like he normally did this time of morning and had been in the Livingroom with Esidisi instead, too invested in the video game they were playing to hear you come in.

Wamuu was out back chopping up more firewood to burn, as the nights were still very cold; the Warrior too far away to hear you and unable to see you with the house in the way.

Kars was supposed to be up in his study, up to his elbows in papers and practically dead to the world but of course (just when you wanted him to be working for once) he wasn't.

Somehow, he just always knew when something was amiss.

"Peanut followed me here," you explained, peering down at the squirming black fuzz ball in your lap that was still happily licking the peanut butter from its chops.

Kars clicked his tongue, "Peanut?"

He seemed even more displeased you had already named it; if you named something, it became hard to lose it. That was a rule many people followed through ancient times.

You let out a shaky laugh, ignoring the chunky paws inarticulately grasping at your clothes as a little pink tongue darted out from a tiny chestnut muzzle, dampening the glistening black button at the very tip.

Peanut was giving you a thorough sniff, making sure that he had consumed all of the delicious food you had brought him and that he hadn't missed a single morsel.

"It fits." You told him, smiling pathetically as you shrugged your shoulders.

Ruby eyes drifted down to the little creature squirming in your lap for more than a beat before he let out another sigh; this time it didn't sound as stern and disapproving as the first but it still sent a shiver down your spine. His lips pulled into a sympathetic frown as he closed the distance between you two, crouching at your side.

"Dear one," he spoke, using the tone he typically reserved for when he was trying to comfort you or give you some advice. "We cannot keep Peanut."

Immediately, you felt your heart quiver at his words; the pulse of the muscle stopped all together as you looked up at him. His eyes, normally the epitome of inhuman and predatory, now softened.

You knew very well he would have this talk with you, albeit much sooner than you anticipated originally, but it didn't change the fact it was making your heart clench painfully in your chest.

"Why?" You questioned. Now it was all you could really say in that moment as everything else that tried to come out got jumbled up in your throat.

You really didn't need to ask such a question however, as you already knew the answer.

"My sunshine, he's a wild Animal; a predator. He may be a small creature now but Cubs like Peanut grow very quickly indeed." He explained gently, wrapping one muscular arm around you. "And as he grows, his appetite will grow; you won't be able to feed him simple sandwiches forever."

Your lips scrunched up as you peered down at the now quiescent black ball of fuzz cradled in your arms. Peanut, his belly now full and all the peanut butter thoroughly cleaned from his paws and face, had closed his eyes and was slowly falling down into a most comfortable mid-morning nap.

He was so cute; so damn cute you wanted to cry. A hand absentmindedly reached up to grasp one of his paws, your thumb tracing over the squishy pads of his feet and feeling the sharp little claws sprouting from the chubby toes like thorns from a rose.

All your life you loved Bears, no matter the kind; Panda Bears, Koala Bears, Grizzly Bears, Sun Bears, Polar Bears, even Black Bears like Peanut... and now here you were, holding one in your very own arms! Hugging it close to your body like one would an everyday Teddy Bear! A real life Bear had just waddled up to you in the forest, clinging to you as if appointing you as its new Mother and caregiver, cuddling in your arms like a loving pet and cooing as you fed it an icky-sticky delight.

It was a dream come true... and now Kars was asking you to wake up and cast it aside.

"But--... But--..." the quivering of your lip made it hard to find a foothold in this dispute.

"And there is also the matter of his behavior." Kars continued softly, one massive palm gently rubbing up and down your back as he spoke. "Bears can grow to be very territorial and temperamental creatures. Their maximum strength can out lift 10 Men and their maximum speed is faster than any vehicle you can drive."

By now your eyes were watering, the fuzzy spot in your arms no longer seemed so very fuzzy as the world around you blurred behind tears.

Kars, of course, was making sense as he always did and you didn't like it one bit.

The living God's frown only deepened as the glistening of the water pooling in your eyes caught his. Truly, he hated to see you cry. Seeing tears in your eyes was something that made him weak in places he never felt such weakness prior to falling in love with you... but your safety was in jeopardy; and that was something he, nor the other Pillarmen who loved you and dotted on you, didn't want to risk over one creature.

"We have to put him back where he belongs." He said; though his words still carried that softness it was undoubtedly an order not to be refused.

"Oh Kars," you sniffed, your nose crinkling as tears began to fall. "I can't do it!"

You turned more fully towards him, presenting the sleepy Cub; practically thrusting him into the Pillarman's arms.

"Just look at him!" You cried. "He's so small and he's all alone! I don't know what happened to his Mother but she's gone and... and..."

One massive hand found your cheek as the tears came harder, a calloused thumb swiping the raging rivers aside.

"Please Kars... I can't give him up... what if he--?...." you wimpered, unable to finish that thought. You were fully aware you had already lost for today as he shook his head sadly.

Your tears did nothing to sway him when he knew what he had to do.

His free hand slipped under the sleeping Cub, Peanut did little more than fill his palm, scooping him up and cradling him close to his chest as he stood.

Your arms had never felt more empty.

"I'm sorry, Beloved. It has to be done." He told you as you stared up at him with a crestfallen and teary gaze. "Chances are, his natural instincts will kick in and he will learn to take care of himself despite the absence of his Mother. Abandoned Cubs are more common than you think. Peanut needs to go back to the woods."

That was all that could be said, the Pillarman disappeared in one blinding flash; taking the Bear Cub with him.

You were left there sitting on the porch, scrubbing at your cheeks with the sleeve of your sweater until the sensitive skin was raw in the cool Spring morning air. You managed to pull yourself together enough to not raise suspicion and headed back inside to make some coffee.

The morning passed quietly, when Kars made his eventual return to the house (sans Bear in hand) you didn't even look him in the eye.

You didn't deny that Kars had done the right thing, Peanut was in fact a wild Animal and belonged to the wilderness, but you still felt strangely bitter over it. So inexplicably angry it almost felt childish as you couldn't stop yourself from glaring at his back as he passed the kitchen table.

More time passed, your only half-drunk mug of coffee had long gone cold and your grief for the little Bear you knew that was left all alone somewhere in the woods had managed to ebb somewhat. You were just about to get up to go get a start on some chores when all of a sudden, Wamuu came through the door.

"Shoo! Shoo!" The massive Pillarman swiped his hand as he backed himself through the door, "Go on! Go back to your Home, small one."

You tilted your head, watching the unusual display. "What's wrong?"

The blonde turned his head to look at you with a frown. "I was trying to finish up my morning task when a Bear came out of the woods." He explained, finally closing the door with a sigh. Your gasp went unnoticed as he peered through the window of the door, his frown only etching deeper. "It's too small to be a juvenile. Just a Cub. I did not want to find out if there was a Mother lingering so I came back to the House. However, it seems to have decided to follow me..."

The Warrior blinked as you were suddenly out of your seat, squeezing past him to squish against the window of the door to see for yourself.

"Peanut!" You cried, your heart fluttering in your chest as you too caught sight of the little round ink blot sitting dejectedly on the porch.

Wamuu barely had a chance to react let alone intervene as you yanked open the door again, the sounds of the crying Bear hitting your ears.

It was Peanut alright, every feature similar right down to the whiskers of his muzzle. The Bear was plopped down on his rear, feet sticking out under him like he were a simple Teddy Bear sitting on the shelf of a toy store, and staring up at the door he knew you were behind. The squeaky wailing of the Cub fell silent as soon as he caught sight of you and realized he was no longer all alone, it seemed that he missed you just as much as you had him.

Wamuu stared in disbelief, watching with wide eyes as the little Bear rolled onto his back to reveal his soft tummy and stubby paws to you.

"Peanut?" The blonde questioned, one thick eyebrow raising as he looked between you both.

This was a wild Animal and yet you greeted it like some sort of pet!

As your leaned down to give a loving rub to the exposed tummy of the Bear, cooing at it as contentment spread across its features. You intended to recount this mornings full story to ease Wamuu's obvious confusion, however, you didn't so much as get the chance to get a word out before Kars was standing in the room.

He had just been about to head upstairs and absorb himself in his work, when he caught a snippet of what was happening in the kitchen. The Pillarman's crimson eyes wide as he approached, needing to see what was happening for himself.

"Look Kars!" You beamed, grinning up at both gawking Pillarmen as the Bear grasped at your petting hand, playfully trying to gum on your fingers with blunt little teeth. "Peanut came back!"

Kars all but shared in your glee, the pinching of his brows and the drooping of his lips gave away his irritation.

He had dropped Peanut off safely somewhere in the woods, not far from your usual walking path. When he had left, the Cub had still been sound asleep, completely none the wiser to being left behind, and the Pillarman had honestly thought that would be that.

It would seem the creature had imprinted on you more than he anticipated and it only added on to his previous fears.

"I'm afraid I'm in need of an explanation, my Lord..." Wamuu spoke up, tearing his gaze away from you and the Bear Cub you were most happily playing with.

Kars swooped in, taking the Cub away from you for the 2nd time that morning, much like an Eagle dropping from the sky to snatch up a mouse. Peanut pawed at his hardened chest, becoming squirmy in the massive mans hold as he let out a couple of little grunts.

It was as if the Bear knew exactly what Kars intended to do.

"I'll explain it to you in full when I return, Wamuu." He sighed as he begun carrying the squirming woodland creature away from the House towards the woods where he deemed it rightfully belonged.

You waved at the baby Bear as it watched you from over one muscled shoulder with those big honeyed eyes, feeling a little disheartened again but the fact that the Cub came looking for you still made a sweet warmth bloom in your chest.

It would be far from the last time any of you saw Peanut.

Late morning turned to afternoon and the day bloomed into something warm and lovely, like a watered down Summer day. Linens and towels came straight from the washing machine and were headed for the clothesline to dry in the sweet air.

There was absolutely nothing better than falling asleep in bedsheets that had spent all day out on a line in the breeze.

Always happy to help you around the household, Esidisi volunteered to put them out for you as you were already busy doing other things around the house.

He had only turned his back for 2 seconds to hang the first sheet, humming softly to himself as he went, before turning to find a baby Bear making himself at Home in the laundry basket he had carried out. Peanut was rubbing his scent all over the damp linens as he rolled in and pawed at the clean sheets; inevitably dirtying them again.

Esidisi found the whole ordeal hilarious, most especially when he was fed the full story of the morning by you who had come out to see what was taking him so long with his chore.

Kars, on the other hand, didn't find it so very funny.

He especially didn't see the humor in it when he found the two of you playing with Peanut in the yard, entertaining yourselves and the Cub by draping a sheet over him and prying it off like a parachute over and over.

Peanut was taken back to the forest a 3rd time; this time much farther into the woods.

Late afternoon rolled around and Santana finally left the house to go outside; having the sole intention of taking a nap in the fresh air via the hammock that had been recently strung up in the backyard.

Unfortunately, the youngest Pillarman got sidetracked when a little Bear came out of the woodwork and crawled into the hammock with him, mewling and demanding his immediate attention as he was hungry once again.

Kars, the one and only, spirited Peanut away before you and Santana had a chance to make more sandwiches to feed it.

This happened over and over and over again.

It seemed like every time the Pillarman dumped Peanut somewhere, no matter how remote or how far from your Home, the little Bear inevitably found its way back sooner or later; ambling up to you or the others with a mighty hunger and a carefree nature unmatched.

Peanut appeared on the doorstep next morning when you were about to head out for a walk.

Peanut was found digging in the trash bin when Kars was taking out the trash.

Peanut clung to Wamuu's leg as he went out to mow the lawn; the Warrior didn't so much as bat an eye, unhindered, as the Cub held onto his ankle while he worked the mower.

Peanut approached Santana when he was eating chips on the porch; the Pillarmen didn't seem to mind the company nor the fact the Bear ended up upside down in the bag.

Peanut followed you around like you were its one true Mother while you tended the yard and carried out chores.

Peanut sat contently at Esidisi's feet as the man was Barbecuing supper in the evening; the Bear watching him and waiting for supper to be served as if he were the guest of Honor.

Each time, without fail, Kars brought him back to the woods and each time, without fail, Peanut came back.

It was only frustrating him further and further.

Eventually, one quiet and rainy morning Kars went out onto the porch to sit and read; he always enjoyed the sound of rainfall and the fresh earthen smell of a Spring downpour. He had barely been there 5 minutes, not even enough time to get truly immersed in his novel, when suddenly a very wet and cold ball of hair climbed up into his lap, actually making the Pillarman yelp at the shock of the sensation of a freezing cold Cub pressing against his bare skin.

Kars was big and dry and comfortable, like a much bigger and hairless Bear, a place Peanut deemed perfect enough to sit out of the Rain and warm up.

The purple-haired man frowned down at the chubby bundle taking up residence in his lap, Peanut grunted contently as he made himself comfortable. His normally downy soft and dandelion puffed fur was now patterned down and awry, radiating with a dank with a heady, musky Bear smell due to being soaking wet.

It was not at all a pleasant smell to anyone's nose, most especially to a Pillarman's as they were creatures with extra sensitive senses.

Kars, now feeling that this was the final straw, was just about to scoop the creature up into his arms and carry out their usual pick up and drop off routine; this time he intended to take Peanut all the way down river to the farthest side of the forest and leave him there.

He stopped on a dime when two big pools of honey locked onto glimmering rubies.

"Don't look at me like that..." the Pillarman warned, feeling his heart quiver strangely in his chest. The command didn't come out nearly as firm as he intended it to be.

Kars treasured creatures big and small and this creature was so adorable, so small it made his arms itch in ways he hadn't felt since the time he had taken care of the two infants that grew to be Wamuu and Santana. Peanut rolled in his lap, squishing his face against the Pillarman's abs and nuzzling softly; his fur stuck to bare skin in an almost icky way and made his loincloth feel very damp and uncomfortable due to the run off of water.

The Pillarman pursed his lips, forcing himself to bring to mind all the logical points on why this Bear (this nuisance, this danger, this predator) had to go.

Peanut opened his mouth and let out a little yawn and a sneeze, probably just as hungry as he was cold and damp.

Kars' huge hands balled into fists at his sides, his jaw setting tighter and tighter as he felt himself and the walls of his determination crumbling, hating every single millisecond of it before eventually, after an internal struggle that lasted seemingly millennium... he sighed.

Peanut was scooped into his arms and, this time, taken into the House.

☆☆☆

"Really?!" You cried in disbelief, hands going to your mouth as it pulled into an impossibly huge grin.

Esidisi, Wamuu and Santana just sat there, expressions ranging from shock to disbelief of their own.

Surely he couldn't be serious... could he?

Kars let out a long breath, "Yes, dearest." He groaned, still cradling the tiny dampened Bear in the crook of his arm as it clung to his bicep. "We can keep Peanut."

Immediately, to everyone’s amusement but Kars', you were in his lap just as quickly as the Cub had climbed into it. You didn't care one bit that he was a little damp and that some of Peanuts musky stink had rubbed off on him, peppering his face with thousands of kisses as you threw your arms around both the Pillarman and the Cub.

"Oh Kars! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" You squealed between your line of kisses.

Nobody had expected Kars to cave in this matter; they honestly expected this to go on and on for some time until Peanut was forced to be the one to give up on finding his way back to the house.

However, despite the fact all of them were pleased and ready to take on this idea of having an actual living Bear around, there came the next matters to attend to.

The ground rules.

"But he cannot stay inside the house." Kars said, that firm nature of his making its return. Peanut had managed to wriggle out of both of your holds and was now ambling around the Livingroom, sniffing everything and everyone in sight. Esidisi was following him around to ensure he wouldn't break anything or get himself into more trouble while Kars was feeling so generous, smiling indulgently as he scooped him up and presented him to the others.

"Ok." You hummed, that part was only to be expected.

But you wouldn't deny that somewhere in the back of your mind you had fantasized about cuddling up to a giant fuzzy Peanut in bed or on the couch.

Kars took in another deep breath and the atmosphere changed, it was as if the temperature dropped in the room. The mans eyes were serious and his features became even more stonelike than the masks he crafted as he pulled you closer to him in his lap.

"I want you to listen to me, dear one." He began, his voice was low and something akin to fridged; it only sent shivers dancing down your spine. "If Peanut grows to be an aggressive creature or too much a hassle to handle, even if he gives any of us the slightest reason to fear he would harm you in any way, shape or form... we'll have to be rid of him. Permanently."

His words hung in the air, making your stomach sink like a rock falling helplessly to the depths of the ocean. A lump was starting to balloon in your throat.

You knew very well what that meant.

The Pillarmen weren't men who took any form of pleasure out of killing Animals; Kars especially... but you knew that he would not hesitate to do so for your sake. His words spoken to you prior on the porch when you first encountered the Cub rang around quite deafeningly in your head.

"Do I make myself clear?" He asked you, his pupils burned absolute holes into your heart as he held your gaze; not unlike a strict parent after giving the scolding of a lifetime.

The best you could do was nod, praying the day you all feared would never come at all or at least not very soon; the latter was perhaps your best hope.

For now, however, you planned on celebrating the day by making a peanut butter sandwich for the newest, and perhaps hungriest, member of your little Family.

☆☆☆

Time passed, as it did for everything, and Peanut grew and grew. He grew from a small and clumsy little Bear Cub into a bigger and gangly Juvenile Bear by mid Summer.

Sometimes the Bear would disappear at night into the woods, just after supper of course, but there were also times he would just sleep close to the house; most specifically by the front porch. Peanut still followed you around outside as you did anything, always greeting you with a grunt as he flopped onto his back to reveal his belly and were always more than happy to rub it when he did.

His appetite did indeed grow and the simple peanut butter namesake was no longer truly fulfilling to him; nothing more than a sweet morsel to lick up as a treat.

Peanut had to be shown how to properly hunt for himself and that was something you and Esidisi decided to tackle together, taking him down to the river on the hottest days to teach him to to fish for himself. Those days were filled with much laughter on your part where you sat on the bank to watch the Pillarmen wading out in the raging waters with the Bear, hunched forward and making a grab for a slippery and wet flying fish with his hands as they jumped from the water to properly demonstrate.

Eventually, after much trial and error (not to mention Esidisi falling right into the river a handful of times) Peanut was able to catch all the fish he wanted to eat.

Wamuu was a big help in burning off the major energy that came with Peanut growing into an adult Bear. The Warrior often spent hours out in the yard playing with him, going so far as to push and wrestle with the creature, playing simple games like throwing a giant ball around or to even take him on a run through the woods to tire him out.

Sometimes you even tailed behind the pair on your 4 wheeler to get in on the fun and play.

Santana found himself spending his days playing with Peanut too, more often content to help you take care of the beast. You and Santana tried to bath Peanut at least once every 2 weeks to fight against his stinky Bear musk, lathering him up nicely where he sat contently in an old kiddie pool in the yard and hosing him off. Santana would spend a lot of time with Peanut as the Bear napped, scratching his back and finger combing the knots out of his fur; even plucking annoying ticks from the Bears body when he found them.

You found it quite disturbing, and more than a little gross, as to how Santana could hold the bloated insects between his fingers and pop them upon finding them. You swore you could hear the red-head chuckle lowly each time you let out a disgusted gag when he done it.

And Kars, he found himself dotting over and spoiling Peanut with affection just as much as you did.

The Pillarman would deny any claims that he snuck the Bear peanut butter sandwiches between meals or even peanut butter straight from the jar but you knew the truth. It was hard to miss as it seemed Peanut would immediately give Kars a good sniffing upon seeing him, obviously checking for any delicious treats he happened to be keeping concealed.

By late Fall, Peanut was a fully grown Adult Bear.

In fact, he had swollen to such an immense size, he was something of a rival to the Pillarmen; by that time it was something of a relief he was a gentle giant. He was still a wild Animal but he was also a loving pet to you and the 4 Pillarmen.

One day, Peanut stumbled out into the woods and didn't return. Snow came not long after and then the brutal and fridged season of Winter truly begun.

Peanut had disappeared but you knew he wasn't far in the woods, hopefully holed up in a cave and hibernating.

Winter passed slowly, more slowly than it ever had before. As December ticked away to January and eventually February, the others didn't miss how much you missed your Peanut; he was all you could talk about somedays! You weren't the only one who missed him however, not missing the wistful looks passing over the faces of the others upon seeing a segment on Black Bears airing on National Geographic or opening the fridge to find the jar of peanut butter sitting there; untouched and almost begging to be eaten.

March went bye, then April and the snow had long melted away due to the heavy rainfall but still, Peanut did not make his return.

You were seriously starting to worry by this time. What if he hadn't been hibernating all along? What if a Hunter had gotten to him? Or what if... he forgot about you?

The Pillarmen could only console you so much, trying their best not to give you false hope by saying things along the lines of "I'm sure he'll be around!" and make things worse as they really did not know of Peanut's fate either...

It was well over a year since you had first taken in the Cub and now there was no sign of him anywhere.

But just when you were starting to give up all hope of seeing your prized Bear and companion again, you opened the door one morning as you prepared to go on your morning walk to be met with shock.

You just about jumped out of your skin as an earth rattling roar hit your eardrums, sending a jolt of fear striking through your body like lightning and screaming in primal terror at the sight before you. A Black Bear that was larger than life stood on its haunches off the porch, its maw open and its breath showing like hot puffs of steam as it growled out into the cold Spring air; asserting its presence for miles.

For one terrible and too long of a moment, you thought you would be slaughtered on your own doorstep by your most favorite Animal on Earth.

Your terror was short-lived however, as the monstrous beast you feared would devour you whole suddenly flopped onto its back and turned its belly to the sky.

"PEANUT!" You cried, spreading your arms wide as you ran to flop on top of the creature; your friend and pet.

It wasn't long after when all 4 Pillarmen were standing out on the porch, your screech having been heard from inside the house.

"Look Kars!" You beamed, rubbing the gargantuan tummy with a wide grin; eliciting a content grunt from the Bear. "Peanut came back!

Kars could only smile this time and shake his head.

Peanut had come back again, without fail; just as he always done and the Pillarmen were quite happy he was here to stay...

[bored-storyteller]

uh I love your storys about Uta ^^. You write him so good and in character . Could you maybe write a story about him were him and the reader ( human) meeting at an auction like reader was captured and meets Uta there . But maybe they escape the auction house and meet Uta sometime after this again. I`m sorry I love Uta angst and fluff .

Dear anon. I'll tell you, your request inspired me a lot (that's why I did it right away), but I must confess that I'm not really satisfied with the result and I'm sorry (I rewrote it three times). I have to thank my poor summary skills for this defeat, I don't think I managed to really give you what you asked me. Feel free to send me clarifications or a further request for me to remedy!

43- Tokyo Ghoul, Uta x human!reader

“The bird of ill omen and the broken toy”

You are in front of his eyes, huddled in a corner of the cold and dark container. On your knees, tied up, you are the condemned to death ready to face the gallows, or rather you are a delicious dish wrapped in its most beautiful dress to entice the spectators.

"Oh, look here ... what a delightful creature."

You are not the main article, you are not the rare object, yet your smell has brought him there. Uta is not a glutton, but he couldn't resist the temptation to peek at whoever was carrying such an inviting fragrance.

"This is really a shame ..." his voice is sweet, calm, yet ironic and cruel. Yes, it's a shame that he has to give you to some miserly ghoul.

Uta doesn’t usually prefer a certain type of food, he is not delicate or picky, nor does he have problems eating even his similar ones. But he has to admit that while those bright eyes of yours, shining with tears and desperation, look at him, he really would like to be able to eat them. Yes, it is rare for someone to stimulate his appetite in this way, customers really have to thank him for his self-control.

You are so small in his shadow, and even if you tremble, even if you smell of fear, he sees no hope in your eyes.

You know you have no escape. As little as you may be when it comes to ghouls, you know you can't save yourself. You heard them talk.

You would rather die now than continue that torture.

He feels it, and oh, how tempted he is to grant your wish.

He leans over you, he wants to see you well, he wants to hear you. The demonic beak of his mask brushes against you, rubs against your temple like the muzzle of a mother cuddling his cub, or the muzzle of a lion that is playing with his prey.

Maybe, if he had met you in another situation ... maybe ...

No. He doesn't necessarily have to devour you. Nothing is ever said with Uta, even he knows it, he knows himself. Who knows what would have happened if you had met somewhere else. Who knows who you were, elsewhere.

In conclusion, you were both unlucky: you cannot survive, and he cannot be the one to eat you. You have something in common.

"Uta!"

Roma's voice makes its way, muffled by the metal container in which you are locked up - like a ready meal -

"I'm coming!" It's time for him to go on stage, for you it's time for the final bow.

He doesn't tell you anything anymore, he doesn't need to. He will say goodbye to you that same evening, but he feels a little happy that you are among the last items to be exhibited.

He still gives you a look, you, little shaking puppet, sweet broken toy. Who can fix you anymore?

After that, he leaves you behind, abandoned in the cold darkness of your last hours in solitude, as he plunges into the cold light of demons, ready to entertain his fellow men with his affable ways. What a crazy world you are both in.

. . .

Locked in your cold prison, if you could you would cover your ears in a desperate attempt to get away from the announcements and screams, but it's impossible for you. So you wait, trembling in your shell of panic, not knowing what to do. If only you had at least a vain hope, a false chance. If only you could save yourself, for some reason, any reason then yeah, oh, how dear life would be to you thereafter. But you can't even think now.

And you don't even realize that the noises change. The cries of the victims become the cries of the executioners, and the applause becomes breathless footsteps in search of a safe place. But you don't know it, or at least not until they get closer, more distressed. They are probably running away. But who can save you? Who knows you are there? Who can remember you?

And in fact, no one stops, no one frees you, and the footsteps and the screams brush against you and pass you, without bothering to kill or save you. At least you think so.

But as soon as the silence comes, the creaking of the doors opening makes you lift your face, towards the light.

He is there again, and you wonder if that Bird of ill Omen is not your hallucination. With that bizarre suit, that hateful mask, and those ancient letters around his neck that seem ready to strangle him.

He doesn't talk to you. He is simply looking at you, you feel him looking at you, behind that deadly beak. In the silence that surrounds you, whether it is a real silence or created by mutual presence, he suddenly occupies your every thought in those few seconds of eternity. Maybe it's the touch of death that wanders your mind, but suddenly unusual questions arise in you. Who knows who he is, what he does. What does he like and what not ... does he live in the alleys of the city, or maybe, instead, without that mask he pretends to be someone?

He came to take you and devour you. But it almost seems like a strange barrier is keeping him away from you.

And while you are suspended in this limbo of cold resignation, as he came he disappears, and with his disappearance he takes away from you that sad calm that had enveloped you.

The panic returns as someone approaches.

Don't scream. Don't scream. Don't scream.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Clean eyes, a clean face, no mask is looking at you agitated. You don't know how to answer, you don't even know if what you are seeing is true.

“I'm a human, I'm a CCG investigator. Don't worry, it's okay, we'll get you out of here. "

Without your being fully aware of it, you find yourself in warm, safe arms that take you away from hell behind you. You didn't even realize you were crying.

. . .

He recognized your smell right away.

Even if it's been some time since his meeting with you, it's hard to forget something that has affected him so much, especially if it is something that has particularly touched his sensitivity over that of others.

And it's not that Uta is then easily surprised, he is ready to expect anything from that crazy world, yet you manage to upset him without even knowing that he is there.

You are smiling. And that's not the fact, but at the same time it is. You are smiling sweetly, sincerely. Your eyes are clear and bright, and you are listening to someone talking to you about their petty problems without batting an eye.

That night, that night he met you, he came back to eat you. He was not a ghoul who got lost in gluttony, but given the situation he had a particular interest in the statement "carpe diem".

He hadn't, in the end. In the end he just looked at you. It would have been easy to swallow you, but he had left you there. He had told himself that he hadn't made it in time, but who knows what was really going through his head at that moment.

It doesn't matter anymore, however. What's a broken toy like you doing so quietly exposed? How can you smile at people like that, when surely the world around you has crumbled into millions of little bits?

You make him angry, you know? Humans like you, whom the world keeps getting back on their feet despite everything, provoke anger in him.

And you are there, a few steps away from him, and you do not realize that the one who had the task of trampling your life is watching you.

And no matter how much anger he may feel inside of him, he can't help but look at you, as you speak comfortable words to someone, while you give your attention as if you have no problem.

"Uta?" Renji's voice, intent on looking at him from behind the coffee shop counter, makes him look away from you.

"Nh? Ah… ”His gaze falls on his now coffee-stained lap. The stain is almost invisible on the black sweater, but it is damp and warm.

"Don't laugh ... can you give me a towel please?"

"I'm not laughing." Yet Uta could swear that in the serious voice of his trusted friend a note of amusement is audible even to those who do not know him.

Carefully he puts the cup back on the saucer, making sure not to do any further damage.

This then. When was he ever so distracted for a human?

But when he instinctively looks for you, after all that nice little theater, you're not there anymore. The table you occupied is empty.

Only one object remained abandoned on the shiny surface. A book lies alone, the bookmark sticking out in the middle.

It is placed on the side where you sat. Did you leave in such a hurry that you left it there?

It is not that he has a real reason to do it, yet, while he is about to leave :Re, with all the tranquility that characterizes him, he picks up that literary volume in his hands, hiding it inside his jacket. Even that printed paper is imbued with your smell by now.

. . .

You talk to books, apparently. The edges of the pages are filled with thoughts written in pencil. They are all yours, it almost seems like you use the books as your diary, but there is nothing so personal about you. They are just… points of view. The world told by you, depending on the inspiration that the phrases in the book give you.

"It must be difficult to live in a world where you can talk to your food about your favorite book."

When Uta's eyes had settled on that particular phrase, he had closed. For someone else it might have been a stupid phrase, probably, but for him it was like a punch in the stomach.

He doesn't know if you wrote it before or after the accident, but in any case that simple sentence arouses a mixture of emotions that he doesn't really know where to place. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't understand what it meant to be a ghoul in that world, but on the other hand, the utopia in which Renji seems so hoping could be made up of people like you. If only he believed it, Uta could like that world, as long as there was a place in that world for someone like him.

“Excuse me, did you happen to find a book yesterday? I'm afraid I left it here by mistake. " Your cordial voice betrays a note of alarmism as you speak to the young girl. Your hands grip the counter as if it were a rock of salvation, but your feet are ready to run elsewhere, to look somewhere else in case it isn't there.

"Oh ... no, I'm sorry, I haven't seen any books." Touka's voice is sorry, an apologetic tone hovers between her words.

"Oh, damn ... sorry, thanks anyway!" Your words are so hasty, so quick that he doesn't have time to interrupt them.

The bell rings and the door closes with a click.

"You have it, don't you?" Renji never misses anything - or almost -.

"Yeah, it’s better that I give it back to them before they run all over Tokyo on foot."

"How long have you been so thoughtful?"

Uta allows himself to take a last look at the silver-haired ghoul from over his sunglasses, as he prepares to leave the cafe: "I'm always thoughtful."

. . .

The snow has just started to fall. It is light and silent, the parks of the metropolis have not yet begun to turn white.

You would gladly stay and watch the show from the heat of your home, if it weren't for that damn book you forgot somewhere. Oh, you love your books, but they're so good at hiding. You were convinced you left it in the coffee shop!

"Excuse me…"

A cordial voice caresses your eardrums. It's so warm and peaceful, yet a chill shiver stops the blood in your veins.

Turning around, you meet a man dressed in black. He is strange, but it doesn't surprise you, there are a lot of strange people in such a big city, even people who wear sunglasses on a snowy day.

You had already seen him in the cafe, but you didn't dwell on him. Not because he doesn't get your attention, just… it was an instinct.

“I think you were looking for this. I found it yesterday by chance. "

Clear and tapered fingers hand you your much-desired book. On fair skin, intertwining dark patterns form inexplicable designs, at least for you, but you're sure they have a lot to say, don't they?

Slowly you reach out your hand, and hesitantly touch the cover, to resume what you were looking for.

The night of the accident did not disappear. You are scared. You are afraid of death, but even more of pain, of imprisonment. You are afraid of fear itself. However, you are also afraid of not living, of wasting, of losing.

You are in a limbo that does not let you escape, and you can not help but continue your life, savoring every second, waiting for the Bird of ill Omen to come and get you.

So you push back the mistrust again, and a grateful and kind smile goes to the one who helped you, without asking for explanations.

"Thank you very much." Your voice reaches his pierced ears with such unexpected sweetness.

"It was a pleasure." His smile, decorated with the piercing, is barely hinted at, but delicate - reassuring? -

And for endless moments you look at each other, in silence, without speaking and without thinking. And then, as if nothing had happened, the dances between prey and predator begin.

"Can I buy you a coffee?"

. . .

Your eyes look at him shiny, frightened. You are still in a cage, imprisoned by a body that will soon be ready to consume you.

Uta wonders if you really never anticipated this. All the times you've crossed paths, have you really ever been in doubt? Every time you looked at him, every time you smiled at him or laughed at his words, did you never guess the truth? No, maybe you've always known it from the start, broken toys never work too well.

The mask of that evening, like a macabre mockery - both for him and for you - is leaning on the work table, not far from you, looking at you placidly. It’s a coincidence that he pulled it out just in the morning.

Suddenly the images of that day come back between you two, like a dream. The incomprehensible to you tattoo on his neck has a creepy look overwhelmed by the shadows that the soft lights create on the ghoul.

Fear invades you, like a script. Yet, while the Bird of ill Omen looms over you, trapping you in the corner of the room with his arms, your terror is different from what he had already seen in you. Today it is almost more visible, less controlled, as you tremble beneath him.

Maybe it's the surprise of being caught in a trap by someone who – perhaps- you had slowly begun to love – despite everything-, or maybe, simply, inside you a little hope still survives.

Uta's head bends, and the tip of his nose brushes your neck, smelling the coveted perfume that had so attracted him.

If you're so scared, how did you smile all that time? How did you keep going? How did you keep loving that world?

Beside his mask, as a warning of future torment, your dear book lies silent, ready to say goodbye. You lent it to him last time, he asked you for it.

Your smell is as strong, sweet, delicious as ever - so why is his stomach closing up? -

His jaws open, and as delicate as cruel they enclose your fragile neck. In them, the accelerated beats of your heart, still alive, make him tremble.

One bite and you will be nothing but dead flesh, and he hesitates.

He had to kill you before it was too late, right? Uta should know himself well enough, he had to understand right away what was happening inside him.

A sigh, and then his lips pull away, his saliva stops wetting you. He is not hungry, he has already eaten.

He is still upon you, but now he is only looking at you, with his eyes of blood and darkness. You, like a frightened puppy, remain shaking in a corner for a few moments, lost in his pupils. And then, like a crazy lightning bolt, you run away, as you have always run away. You slip under his arms, and as fast as you can you reach the door of the shop.

Uta watches you go, swallows bitter air, and then bows his head, surrendered.

What will happen now? Will you shut up in fear? Will you tell anyone? Only time will tell.

He slowly gets up, his hands caressing each other's tattooed arms, in a distracted gesture of protection, as he approaches the table. His fingers touch it, and then squeeze it, while he looks at the book that is left alone again, without your eyes on it.

And then, suddenly, as if he had woken up from a dream, he notices something: your smell has not vanished.

Turning his view, he sees you. You are still there, or maybe you are back there.

Now it is you who are on the side of the light, and he is in the corner of the cage. The Bird of ill Omen has become the broken toy, left alone among his masks.

"What's up?" No matter the crack inside, Uta always looks so mature, peaceful, even after he has threatened to kill you.

You take a step towards him, but your outstretched arm continues to secure yourself to the door jamb. If you left he wouldn't follow you, you know that right?

"I ... I think I'm crazy, Uta ..." You too realize how much your behavior is against logic, how foolish it is to remain - to search - in your nightmare. But on the other hand, humans ... no, people, when they are desperate, lose the light of reason, and do wrong things. Things the world says are wrong. That world, which claims to be the only one, when it is nothing more than a facade, a corner of something much larger.

"Yes, I think so too." He really thinks so. You have to be crazy to still be there, at least as crazy as he is. "Why are you still here?"

You shrug your shoulders, hugging yourself more out of shyness than out of fear - yeah, you're no longer afraid, it's as if you've run out of batteries.

"I ... as long as I'm alive I can choose, right?" It came out of your lips so naturally that you didn't even realize it was you who uttered that sentence, yet it's a truth so deep, so intense that it has guided you from that damn night to this day.

"And what are you choosing?"

Your eyes cast a fleeting glance outside, at the glimmer of the city, and without hesitation you gently accompany the door to close, imprisoning you. Imprisoning both of you.

Maybe it's a prison, but this time it's really your choice. You are with that Bird of ill Omen, but you are not tied up, you are not thrown to the ground in a cold corner. You are with him, surrounded by works of art that stare at you impassively, but it was you who decided it.

"I choose not to ignore anymore ..." Your fingers intertwine with each other, you play with them as if you need to keep them busy as you approach him. He is waiting for you. "I want to understand."

"How can you understand?" He would like to tell you, but he doesn't say a word, because not even he can understand you. What kind of mask would suit you? Who knows, yet he has learned enough about you that he should be able to think of at least one. But no, you are always there, hoping for something, believing that after all, living is worthwhile.

So he stays there, even when you lean against him. Not a contact, but a fusion. Stomach against stomach, lungs against lungs, heart against heart. Your hands cling to his arms only to hold him closer, and as he looks at your closed eyes he knows you're listening to him. You're trying to feel his every breath, every twitch of him. You want to get inside him, and he lets you do it - isn't that what he wanted too?

The predator and the prey united in a single entity for an eternal instant.

It's all so against the moral and social rules, but what do you care now? You already know he could kill you. And in that world that goes round and round without stopping, a black writing in an ancient language that also goes around a greedy neck could be your starting point for putting the pieces back together. Maybe it's a disease, maybe it's madness, but deep down, why not? Why not go a little further? Better to die than to be afraid to live, right?

"How much confidence ..."

His voice further softened by his whisper makes your previously closed eyelids lift. His nocturnal eyes look at you slightly narrowed, a slight upward crease caresses his lips without even knowing it. It is difficult for Uta to do something without being aware of it.

He is very beautiful. Beautiful and awful.

"Can't I?"

The world out there, the crazy little world is gone.

"Well, why not ... you are my food, after all."

[hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch]

Heather and Heather, after playing loud and obnoxious song: Isn't that relaxing?

Veronica: No. *takes out her clarnet* This is relaxing. *Starts playing a horrible tune*

Heather: Oh no! *Takes a marshmallow* I'll save you, Veronica! *Launches it straight to Veronica's mouth*

Veronica falls back in shock.

Heather: Ronnie, are you okay? Chew, chew. Swallow. Are you feeling better?

Veronica: Better!? I felt perfectly fine, before you launched food in my mouth!

Heather: But i had to! You can't play clarnet badly here in the castle. It might attrackt *Leans closer and whispers* vampires.

Veronica: Vampires? Those vampires, who... DON'T EXIST!

Heather: What are you saying?

Veronica: They don't exist! It's a myth.

Heather: Oh, no, Veronica, vampires are all too real. It says so in Village Daily. *Shows a paper*

Veronica, reading a title: I married a vampire, story of Mia Winters"?

Heather: Yeah and "Fake science monthly".

Veronica: "Vampires and other fairy tales are real"?

Veronica: That's the stupidest thing i ever heard!

Heather: Well, it might be stupid, but it's also dumb.

Heather: Heather is right, Veronica, vampires are no laughing matter. I know a guy, who knew a guy, who knew a guy, who knew a guy, who knew a guy, who knew a guy, who knew a guy, who knew a guy, who knew a guy, who's cousin...

Veronica: You riiiight! I should be more careful. In fact, why don't you tell me all the things i shouldn't do, to keep vampires away.

Heather: Okay, that's easy. First thing, don't play a clarenet.

Veronica: Okay, then what?

Heather: Never wave your flashlights back and forth really fast.

Heather: Flashlights are they natural prey.

Veronica: You're kidding?

Heather: Don't stomp around, they take it as a challenge.

Heather: Yeah.

Veronica, aggresevly taking notes: Go on.

Heather: Never eat cheese.

Veronica: Sliced or cubed?

Heather and Heather quicly whisper discuss it.

Heather: Cubbed, sliced is fine.

Veronica: Yeah, yeah. And?

Heather: Never wear a sombrero...

Heather: ...in a goofy fashion.

Heather: Or a clown shoes.

Heather: Or a hoopskirt.

Heather: And never...

Heather: ...ever...

Heather: ...ever...

Heather: Ah!

Heather and Heather: Screech like a chimpanzee!!!

Veronica: Wow! That's amazing, how many things can set a vampire off.

Heather and Heather, trembling: They're horrible.

Veronica: I suddenly have a feeling, that we all are in great danger.

Heather and Heather: Why?

Veronica: I don't know... *Runs away and comes back, wearing a sombrero, clown shoes, hoolaskirt and holding a plate of cubed cheese and a flashlight* Just a feeling.

Heather: No...

Veronica: *Starts screeching like chimpanze*

Heather and Heather: Veronica, NO!

Veronica: *waves her flashlight and stomps around*

Heather: Heather, what do we do? Vampires for sure will come and eat us.

Heather, taking out a pice of chalk: Don't worry, i'll draw a circle around us.

Heather: Good thinking, that's what Mara told us to do. *Shows Mara's list*

To be protected from evil, draw around you a circle, with chalk. (Don't look it in the eyes).

After drawing a circle, both girls hug each other and shiver in fear.

Veronica: You two are so gulliable! I just did everything, that attracts vampires, and nothing happend. And if vampires do exist, why not a single one show up?

Heather: Maybe because you don't wear sombrero in Goofy-like fashion?

Veronica: Oh, pfft. Sorry, how silly of me. *Slightly tilts her hat* Like this? *Laughs*

A hand reaches and puts hat upside-down.

Heather: No, like that.

Veronica stops laughing, when she hears a low growl. She turns around and sees Bela, Daniella and Cassandra with blood covered mouths. Veronica screams and runs away, as three girls attack her.

Heather, after vampires leave Veronica: Veronica, are you okay?

Veronica: No.

Heather: Quickly, get inside our holly-circle, before they come back.

Heather: Yeah, vampires often attack more then one time.

Veronica: Are you crazy? A chalk circle won't stop these monsters! I'm running for my life!

Heather and Heather: Nooo!

Veronica gets attacked.

Heather: Don't run! Vampires hate that.

Veronica: Thanks for the tip... guess i'll limp away then...

Heather and Heather: Nooo!

Veronica gets attacked.

Heather: They hate limping more, than running!

Veronica: Well, i guess, i'll just then...

Veronica gets attacked.

Heather: I should've warned you about crawling.

Veronica gets attacked.

Veronica: What'd did i do that time.

Heather: I don't know, maybe they just don't like you.

Heather: Pretend to be somebody else!

Heather: Here, draw a circle! *Throws Veronica chalk*

Veronica: Okay.

Veronica gets attacked.

Heather: It was an oval. It has to be a circle!

Veronica, jumps inside Heathers's circle: Move over!

Bela, Cassandra and Daniella surround a circle. They try to get a trio, but can't cross an invisible barrier. So they just growl and glare at girls, but eventualy leave.

Veronica: It... it worked! Girls, you saved my life!

Trio happily cheer.

Heather: Good thing it was just a pack of little baby vampires. This circle would never hold back a big mama vampire.

Veronica: And what attracks her?

Heather: Sound of little baby vampire's attack.

Alcinia leans over three girls, huffing angrily.

Heather: Good thing we all wearing special anti-vampire undergarments. Right, Veronica?

Veronica:

(this is one of the best episodes of spongebob so this is brilliant 😂 and everyone needs to see this)

[hysterialevi]

Hjarta | Chapter 7

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

FIVE DAYS LATER

BJORNHEIMR, THE TEMPLE

Eivor cradled the basket in his hand, meticulously examining its contents to ensure that everything was in order.

At the moment, he was preparing to make an offering to Thor as thanks for their good fortune on the day of the ambush, and had arranged a humble collection of different gifts for the mighty god.

Inside the basket, he had placed a variety of meat, beer, mead, sweets, and a dagger from his own personal armory. Normally, Eivor wasn’t the type to depend entirely on the gods for safety, but considering recent events, he wanted to secure a strong relationship with them in case a tempest were to strike the village. He had no idea if Kjotve was planning any other attacks in addition to the ambush, and he could think of no one better to appeal to other than the Defender of Midgard. 

He just worried that his offering might not have been sufficient. It was a well-known fact that the thunder god enjoyed things in great quantity, and Eivor didn’t have that much to give at the moment. Ingrida always said that no offering was too small, but even then, the man prayed that his gift wouldn’t be considered measly. Things were precarious enough in Bjornheimr as it was; Eivor did not wish to vex the gods as well.

Working his way up the hill, the Wolf-Kissed spread a layer of cloth over the basket’s opening and held it tightly underneath his arm, careful not to disturb its contents.

He could hear the drinks sloshing inside their bottles to the rhythm of his footsteps, and a handful of scattered clinks reached his ears as they softly bumped into each other. Meanwhile, tiny snowflakes began to gather on the fabric lying above, and sunk into the cloth’s neatly-knit threads. They dotted the surface with jeweled specks of ice and clung onto Eivor’s skin, giving him a slight chill. 

The weather wasn’t exactly ideal for spending any time outside -- the snow seemed to be piling up higher than usual today -- but the young man carried on with his plan nonetheless. 

Reaching the top of the hill, Eivor strolled past the charms decorating the sides of the path, only to stop in his tracks when a nearby pair of voices caught his attention.

Up ahead, Eivor saw Ingrida and Sigurd talking with each other underneath the roof of the temple, just barely avoiding the snow that came blowing their way. The prince wore a wary expression on his face and spoke to the seeress about a matter of deep concern, causing a sense of anxiety to swell in Eivor’s chest.

It was fairly clear to the Wolf-Kissed that his friend spent a lot of energy concealing the many troubles in his life, but the fact that he felt the need to reach out to their völva worried him to a significant degree.

He hadn’t seen Sigurd ever since their conversation in the tavern after all, and he was oblivious to any new issues that may have risen during their time apart. It was unusual to see the prince in such a state, and Eivor had to admit that his curiosity was beginning to get the best of him.

He only hoped that Ulfar wasn’t the source of his perturbed nature. The man made his feelings about Sigurd quite plain back in the tavern, and Eivor had never known him as a person to shy away from confrontation. It was a blessing of a trait in most situations, but a hinderance in this one.

“...You’re certain there’s no other explanation?” Sigurd asked, clearly unhappy with the response he got.

Ingrida crossed her arms, reiterating her point. “I will tell you the same thing I told Eivor. I cannot speak in absolutes, for I do not know the gods’ intentions. I can attempt to decipher the messages they convey, but ultimately, it is impossible to offer anything unambiguous.”

The prince let out a troubled sigh. “I... I see.”

“I realize this must be disturbing news, but look at it this way. At least you are prepared now. You have an inkling of what to expect, and sometimes, a mere suspicion can be enough to save one’s life. Obviously, I do not mean to stoke any paranoia within you, but a little caution would be wise.”

Sigurd nodded, taking the woman’s words to heart. “Of course, but you understand if I say this is difficult for me to accept. I don’t doubt your prediction, seeress, but... I just can’t fathom why anyone would--”

The man came to an abrupt pause, stopping mid-sentence when his eyes fell upon Eivor in the distance.

“--Oh,” he said, his voice still laden with unease, “Eivor. I didn’t see you there.”

Ingrida followed Sigurd’s line of sight, smiling in the Wolf-Kissed’s direction. “Ah, hello, little cub.” She eyed the basket in his hands. “Come to make an offering?”

Eivor hugged the object close to his chest, admittedly growing somewhat weary of bearing its weight.

“Yes, seeress. I hoped to thank Thor for our survival in the forest.”

The woman appeared pleased. “An excellent idea. Go on and present your gift to the gods. I will ensure that nothing disturbs it.” Ingrida brought her eyes back to the prince. “As for you, Sigurd, try not to let this revelation suppress you. You are a man of many responsibilities. Your clan needs you to stay focused.”

“...Of course. You’re right.”

“I’m glad you understand.” Ingrida began making her way back inside the temple, strolling through the arch. “This war is nearly over, but the battle has not ceased. Do not surrender just yet. Either of you.”

Shutting the door behind her, the seeress disappeared behind the temple’s walls and returned to her duties, leaving Eivor and Sigurd alone. Meanwhile, the younger man approached his friend and glanced at him in an inquisitive manner, hoping to calm his nerves somewhat.

“Sigurd?” He asked. “Are you alright? A cloud of unrest hangs over you.”

The prince took a moment to gather his thoughts, not wanting to alarm his companion too much. “I’m... I’ll be alright. Don’t worry about me.” He glanced at the basket in his grasp. “What’ve you got there?”

Eivor lifted the cloth. “Just some food and drink for Thor, and a blade as well. I figured I should bring something of great quantity considering our luck that day. What about you? What brings you to the temple? You looked... frightened when I arrived.”

Sigurd sauntered towards the other man, speaking as he walked. “Nothing of immediate urgency. I’ve just been having these strange dreams lately. Visions.”

“Visions? Really? Of what?”

“A wolf.” He answered. “At first, I merely dismissed the dream as a simple nightmare, but it’s been occurring over and over again. In the same way, and in the same order. So, I came to Ingrida for answers.”

Eivor’s interest was hooked. “Tell me about this wolf. What did it do? What did it look like?”

“The wolf was as white as snow,” Sigurd described. “Its eyes split the darkness with a predatory glare, and its stature challenged that of a fully grown man. Its snout and teeth were stained red with the pigment of fresh blood, and hiding behind its features, I... I could almost... recognize someone.”

“Recognize?” Eivor repeated. “What do you mean? This was a wolf, was it not? How could it resemble a human?”

The prince shrugged. “I have no idea, but... I felt it. There was something familiar about the wolf’s face. It was a sensation that I have no proper words to describe.”

The young man tilted his head towards the temple. “And? What did Ingrida have to say about these visions?”

Sigurd was quiet for a second, hesitant to tell the truth.

“...She believes this vision foretells a betrayal.”

Eivor’s eyes widened in surprise. “A betrayal? At whose hands?”

“She doesn’t know, and neither do I. I have no reason to suspect anyone just yet, but somehow, that almost makes it even worse.”

“How did the seeress come to this conclusion?” Eivor questioned. “What makes her believe betrayal is the only answer?”

“Because she had a similar vision,” Sigurd explained. “Ingrida tells me the gods sent her a dream the night before I arrived. Apparently, she saw a man who looked just like me. He bore the same mark upon his neck, and his eyes glowed with a raging fire. The ground beneath him was soaked in blood dripping from the stump of his own arm, and standing behind him was another white wolf, prowling in the shadows.”

A thought crossed Eivor’s mind. “...I suppose that explains why she called you ‘the one who walks with Tyr.’ It also explains why she was skeptical of you when you first met.”

“I suppose it does,” the prince agreed. “But what connection could I possibly have with Tyr? And why me? What makes me so special?”

Eivor shrugged. “I don’t know. You mentioned you used to have dreams about a kingdom constructed of iron when you were a child. Do you think that could be related?”

“...Perhaps? But I don’t see how it would fit into all this. The kingdom I saw looked nothing like any of the places I’ve ever heard about. Not Helheim, and certainly not Valhalla. It likely originates from a place beyond this realm, but the purpose of its existence continues to elude me.”

Sigurd sighed deeply, resting his hands on his hips. “...Forgive me. I don’t mean to dump all of this onto you. You probably have enough on your shoulders.” He switched to a lighter subject, deciding to put his fears to rest for the time-being. 

“How have you been, Eivor? Is your wound feeling any better? I planned to check on you multiple times, but I fear that my duties always got in the way.”

“No worries. It’s just started to heal. Ingrida says it’s going to leave quite a prominent scar in its absence, but well, it’s better than dying.”

A smirk twinkled on Sigurd’s face. “...I like it.”

“Really?”

“Why not? It gives you character. It makes you look like a warrior.”

Eivor chuckled. “That, or a fool who wasn’t able to handle himself in a fight.”

Sigurd’s smile only brightened. “Nonsense. Each scar you bear is a battle that you survived. Wear it with pride.” He patted his friend on the arm. “But enough about that. I was actually planning to visit you after speaking with the seeress.”

The Wolf-Kissed quirked a brow. “What for?”

“I wanted to take you up on your offer. For fishing. I was down at the docks earlier today, and saw some decent-looking fish roaming in the water. Still in the mood for it?”

Eivor nodded, grinning joyously at the man. “Without a doubt. We can find a boat and take it into the fjord. There are plenty of spots I can show you. Just let me finish my offering for Thor first.”

“Of course. I’ll meet you there when you’re ready. In the meantime, I’ll gather some supplies. See you soon.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

THE DOCKS

Pacing eagerly towards the pier, Eivor strolled excitedly through the village with an unusual spring in his step, smiling to himself as he briskly made his way past all the other buildings.

It had been a while since he last got the chance to spend any time with Sigurd, and he imagined that the two of them would have plenty of catching up to do. Even though they hadn’t bumped into each other for the past few days, Eivor always spotted the prince zipping back and forth around Bjornheimr, tending to his never-ending list of duties.

The man always looked so busy. Eivor was well-aware that a prince’s life wasn’t nearly as laid-back as other people expected, but even Sigurd’s schedule seemed to be overflowing with a ludicrous amount of responsibilities. He hardly had any time to even sit down, and the sockets around his eyes had darkened slightly due to a lack of sleep.

Eivor just hoped Sigurd was okay.

Finally arriving at the docks, the Wolf-Kissed came to a halt and gazed at this surroundings, trying to single out the prince’s head of red hair from the crowd. He eventually located the tall man standing at the edge of the pier with a basket and a pair of fishing rods, but to Eivor’s surprise, he wasn’t alone.

Dag seemed to have also joined the party, in spite of the sour expression plastered on his face. He was conversing with Sigurd in an agitated tone, and his brow had crinkled in a manner that displayed obvious annoyance. Strangely enough though, the prince didn’t appear to mirror his temperament. 

Just what was going on?

“Sigurd!” Eivor called out, causing both of them to turn their heads.

“Ah,” Sigurd replied radiantly, “Eivor. There you are. I was just asking Dag if he wanted to join us. I hope that’s not a problem?”

The younger man would’ve been lying if he said he wasn’t somewhat disappointed, but he didn’t have the heard to tell him “no.” He knew Dag was a close friend of Sigurd’s after all, and he didn’t want to interfere. But still... part of him had been looking forward to spending the day with the prince alone.

“No,” Eivor lied, “not at all. He can come if he likes.”

“Great.” Sigurd brought his gaze to Dag. “So, what do you say? Care to go fishing with us?”

To Eivor’s relief, the man refused.

“I appreciate the offer,” Dag said flatly, “but I can’t accept. I have other things to do. You two go on without me.”

“Are you sure?” Sigurd asked, somewhat put off by his friend’s dour mood. “The weather has calmed down since this morning. Now’s the perfect opportunity to take a break. We’ll only be gone for a short while.”

Dag nodded in a dismissive fashion. “Yes, I’m sure. I have many things to take care of, and I’m afraid they cannot wait. Like I said, you two can go without me.”

Sigurd’s eyes dimmed at his friend’s response. “...Well, alright. If you’re certain.”

“I am. Now, if you’ll excuse me...” 

Storming off like a pouty toddler, Dag practically stomped away from the scene and swiftly made himself scarce, leaving Sigurd and Eivor with an uncomfortable silence. The two of them watched in confusion as the man disappeared in the distance, and not too longer after he vanished, they exchanged glances with each other, bewildered by what just happened.

“What was that about?” Eivor asked. “Is something wrong with Dag?”

Sigurd sighed in frustration, reaching down to grab the basket. “You know what? I’ve been asking myself the same thing. Dag’s been acting this way ever since the feast, and I don’t know why. This kind of behavior is unusual for him.”

“Have you talked to him?”

The older man lifted the basket onto his shoulder, walking towards the end of the pier as Eivor followed him from behind.

“Not yet, no. And even if I did, I’m not sure he would give me a straight answer. Dag’s never been the type to open up so easily. I’m just wondering if it’s because of something I did.”

His friend was quiet for a moment. “Does Dag always behave like this?”

Sigurd shook his head. “No, actually. He’s still the same man I know most of the time, but... recently, he’s been going through these random bouts of anger. And they’re always directed at me.”

The prince placed the basket down on a boat waiting beside the pier, carefully stepping onto it as it gently bobbed up and down with the water’s movement.

“I just wish he would talk to me. Dag is a dear friend of mine, and I don’t want anything to be wedged between us. Especially not after hearing Ingrida’s prediction.”

Eivor gave him a sympathetic look. “Try not to let it worry you. I’m sure Dag’s just stressed out from the constant battling with Kjotve. I know we all are. He’ll open up to you when he’s ready.”

Sigurd let out a breath. “...I hope so. I have enough on my plate at the moment. I don’t have time to be running around in circles with Dag. The sooner he opens up, the better.” 

He suddenly glanced up at his companion, deciding to leave the subject alone. “But push that aside. You came here to fish, not to listen to my life problems. Are you ready to go?”

The younger man stepped off the dock and took a seat across from Sigurd, excited for the ride ahead.

“Ready when you are.”

“Wonderful. Thank you for coming with me, by the way, Eivor. I apologize if I seem more stern than usual. I fear that this past week taken a toll on me.”

Eivor took no offense. “There’s no need to apologize. We’re all going through a lot. It’s only normal. Just try to forget about it for now.”

“I’m glad you understand. You seem to be the only one these days. But... you’re right. Today is a day meant for relaxing. Let us not spoil it. Come on, why don’t you show me those fishing spots you mentioned? I’m eager to see them.”

The Wolf-Kissed grabbed the oar and smirked at Sigurd, pushing their boat away from the pier. “As you command, my prince.”

~~~~~~~~~~

BJORNHEIMR, THE FJORD

Venturing deep into the fjord’s divine embrace, Sigurd and Eivor traversed across the water’s glassy surface, steadily gliding along with its rippled waves. They made sure not to put too much distance between them and the village as they did with the waterfall, but even then, the sheer size of the fjord was enough to make them feel as if they had stepped into another world.

All around them, mountains extended into the sky for what seemed like miles, and appeared to kiss the base of the clouds. Their peaks were frosted with fresh snow that floated down from the heavens, and their base remained concealed beneath the ocean, forming a basin fit for the gods themselves.

Meanwhile, a thin curtain of fog draped itself over the mountains’ rugged forms and obscured the landscape waiting ahead, encompassing the world in a layer of mist that stood as a barrier between the two men and the secular village they left behind.

It was the perfect place to clear one’s thoughts, and Eivor could see that Sigurd was already beginning to unwind. The disquieted expression that once hung on his face had vanished, and at the moment, he was currently sitting peacefully on the boat, watching contently as fish poked their fins out from the water’s surface. 

They were completely alone out here, and Eivor wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“So,” the younger man said, “what’ve you been doing these past few days? I haven’t had the chance to talk with you in a while.”

“Oh, nothing too exciting,” Sigurd answered, leaning back in his seat. “I’ve joined your father and Ulfar at the war table quite a few times now, and I’ve also been getting to know Randvi more. It’s difficult to juggle between the two, but things have been going according to plan so far.”

Eivor threw a puzzled look at him. “What about your father? Does he not take part in your conversations in the war room?”

The other man hesitated for a second. “Oh, h-he does, but... well, he’s been occupied lately. Sometimes I take his place.”

Eivor couldn’t deny that he found the response a bit odd, but he decided not to pry any further. “I see. And what about Ulfar? I hope he hasn’t given you any trouble.”

It was Sigurd’s turn to be confused now. “Ulfar? No, none at all. Why would he?”

The Wolf-Kissed sighed sheepishly, unsure of how to explain. He assumed Ulfar would have already expressed his concerns to the prince about his ability to be a leader, but evidently, he was wrong. 

“I, well... I suppose there’s no harm in letting you know. The day you and I went to the tavern, Ulfar stayed for a drink after you left. Initially, he was in a rather foul mood, and it was directed at you. He said you almost got me killed in the forest.”

A look of guilt spread across Sigurd’s face. “...Ah, I see.”

“I spoke with him, though,” Eivor reassured. “I convinced Ulfar it wasn’t your fault, and he told me he’d withhold any further judgement for now. That’s why I asked if he had given you any trouble. I was curious to know if he still harbored these doubts. But don’t let it bother you. Whatever Ulfar does, it’s only to keep me and my siblings safe.”

Sigurd shook his head in disagreement. “No, he’s right. I should’ve been more careful that day. I made a foolish decision, and you nearly paid the price. It’s a good thing you’re a skilled warrior. Otherwise, I’d probably be responsible for your death by now.”

Eivor’s expression sank with pity. “Don’t say that. It’s not your fault what happened in the woods that day. You could’ve run off at the first sign of danger, but instead, you risked your life to save me. And everyone knows it. Even Ingrida.”

“Well, I may not be at fault,” the man conceded, “but I was ill-prepared for such an ordeal. If I’m going to be king someday, I need to be able to protect people. That includes you.” Sigurd shifted his position slightly, sitting more upright. “I promise, Eivor, I won’t endanger you like that again.”

The young man grinned. “I appreciate it, but we’re in the midst of a war. I’m afraid we don’t have much choice. Anything can happen at any time.”

“True, but I’ll still do everything I can to keep you and your people safe.” Sigurd displayed a small smile. “Death may be inevitable, but that’s no reason to let it take us so willingly. That’s why we have shields.”

Eivor chuckled. “I suppose you’re right.”

The two of them trailed off into silence briefly, only for the prince to bring up another topic.

“Hey, speaking of Ulfar, did you hear his report?”

“No.” Eivor said.

“Well, apparently, he and his men found two camps in the woods not too far from where we were attacked. They both belonged to Kjotve.”

“Really? How many men were there?”

Sigurd conjured a rough estimation. “About ten each.”

“Ten?” The Wolf-Kissed repeated in alarm. “That’s nearly two dozen in total. That’s enough men to carry out a small raid.”

“Indeed. We’re lucky Ulfar was able to drive them out before their numbers grew anymore. Thankfully though, he didn’t uncover any plans to attack Bjornheimr. He believes these particular men were just scouts sent here to keep an eye on the village and send information back to Kjotve. Our encounter with them wasn’t coordinated. A few of his people simply decided to take matters into their own hands.”

Eivor found some comfort in that. “Well, that’s a relief, at least. Still, I wonder how Kjotve will respond to this.”

Sigurd raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

“If these men were sending regular reports to Kjotve, he’s going to realize something’s wrong when they come to a sudden stop. He might even send reinforcements.”

The older man couldn’t help but admit he had a point. “Hmm. That does sound likely. I’ll have to warn your father and Ulfar about the possibility of retaliation. We may be preparing for a wedding, but Freya knows that won’t stop Kjotve from spilling blood.”

A shiver traveled down Eivor’s spine. “What if... what if he comes to Bjornheimr? What do you think we’ll do?”

The answer seemed fairly clear to Sigurd. “We’ll fight, of course. What else?”

“No, no,” his friend corrected, “I didn’t quite mean it like that. I just...” Eivor gazed down at his father’s axe, tracing a hand down its grip, “...I’ve spent so many years thinking about how I would take my revenge on Kjotve; for what he did to my parents. I’ve convinced myself that I’d slit his throat without a second thought, but... if he actually shows up, I don’t know if it’ll be that easy. I don’t know what I’ll do.”

A sense of empathy softened Sigurd’s eyes. “It won’t be easy. But whatever happens, make sure you fight for what matters. Ideally, Kjotve will never set foot on your shores, but if he does, fight not for revenge. Fight for the honor your father lost. Only then can you know true peace.”

Eivor stared aimlessly at the water surrounding them, trying to block out the memories of that horrible night. “...I’ll try. Even if it kills me.”

The younger man watched the soothing rhythm of the waves dancing around them and fell into a deep train of thought, only to be pulled out again when Sigurd’s voice reached his ears.

“Hey,” he said gently, leaning closer to his companion, “are you alright, Eivor?”

The Wolf-Kissed blinked a few times, still somewhat lost in his own past. “Yes. I’m fine. It’s just... difficult to think about, you know. My parents were killed over a decade ago, and yet, their words from that night remain fresh in my head. It’s hard to ignore them sometimes.”

“Of course,” Sigurd replied. “I understand.”

“Anyway,” Eivor said, not wishing to dwell on the grim subject any longer, “you mentioned you’ve been seeing Randvi more earlier. How are things going between the two of you?”

“We still don’t know each other that well,” Sigurd confessed, “but she strikes me as a kind woman; an honorable one. I think we can make this marriage work. Although, I must admit... it’s bizarre to think about how she’ll be my wife in only a week from now. The future felt so far away when I first got here, and yet, these past seven days have fleeted by within a heartbeat. It just makes me wonder how fast the wedding will arrive.”

Eivor caught onto his tone. “Are you nervous?”

“Yes, and so is Randvi. But I think we’re both slowly coming to terms with it.” A glint of curiosity formed in the prince’s gaze. “What about you, Eivor? Have you ever considered marriage?”

The man laughed. “Me? No, not really. I’ve had partners in the past, but... nothing serious. It’s difficult to imagine someone marrying me, if I’m being honest.”

Sigurd scoffed. “Psh. Nonsense. Anyone would be lucky to have you as their spouse.”

“You think?”

The older man shrugged. “Why not? You’re compassionate, humorous, handsome, and--” Sigurd suddenly froze in shock, utterly embarrassed by his own words.

Meanwhile, Eivor simply gave him an appreciative smirk, undeniably amused by his slip-up.

“You consider me handsome, do you?” He teased.

Sigurd stammered bashfully and brought a hand to the back of his neck, barely able to hold eye contact with the Wolf-Kissed anymore. “Gods above... erm, f-forgive me, Eivor. I... I didn’t mean to--”

“--It’s alright.” He interrupted. “The truth is, I think you’re handsome too.”

The prince paused at Eivor’s remark, calming down somewhat. “You... do?”

Eivor chuckled, leaning forward in his seat. “Yes, you fool. Who wouldn’t? You’re strong, kind, caring, and you...” the young man caught himself before he could say anything else and stopped mid-sentence, abruptly retreating from his comments as Sigurd watched him quietly.

“...No,” Eivor said, his tone much more sullen now. “I can’t do this.”

Sigurd found himself growing concerned. “What’s wrong?”

The other man sighed in despondency, looking shamefully away from his friend. Eivor assured Ingrida that he wouldn’t allow his emotions to interfere with the upcoming wedding, and yet, he had barely been able to stop himself just now.

His thoughts slipped free from his lips as if they carried a mind of their own, and if it weren’t for the fact that everyone’s safety was depending on this alliance, Eivor had no idea how far he truly would’ve gotten. 

His ability to restrain his desires was already being crippled just after a week of knowing Sigurd, and the looming reality of his feelings was enough to send Eivor into a state of panic and loneliness. 

These next few days were going to be nothing but absolute turmoil for him, and sooner or later, he’d have to accept it. He just didn’t know how.

“Sigurd...” Eivor whispered sorrowfully, “...can I be honest with you?”

The older man nodded. “Of course. What’s going on?”

The Wolf-Kissed looked him directly in the eye, taking a deep breath. “...The truth is, ever since we met at that feast, I’ve been infatuated with you.”

Sigurd’s brow furrowed in shock. “...You have?”

“Yes. Whenever we’re apart, I’m always thinking about when I’ll see you next, or how you’re doing. I care about you, and I worry about your well-being despite being no more than an acquaintance.”

The prince knotted his hands together in thought. “And what about when you’re with me?”

Eivor showed a faint smile to him, but its facade was quickly betrayed by the pain in his gaze. “I feel at peace. I feel like nothing in the world can touch us. I feel a certain way that I’ve never felt before with anyone else, and it... it frightens me sometimes.”

The young man continued. “But I can’t allow these feelings to develop any further. No matter how persistent they may be. We’re both bound by our duties, and yours is to secure an alliance with my clan. The only thing I can provide for you is a distraction that you can’t afford.” Eivor slunk back to his end of the boat, hiding inside the shell that he constantly wore. “...I’m sorry, Sigurd. But our relationship can’t go beyond this.”

Sigurd offered nothing other than silence in return and simply delved into his own thoughts, gazing downwards in a desolate manner. It was clear that he mirrored the same affections that Eivor expressed, but he felt even more reluctant to share them now that he knew about the other man’s views.

It was the burden of being a prince, he supposed. Everyone always told Sigurd that his choices were his own, and yet, he was being forced to repress something that others would’ve been more than happy to admit. His life had been nothing more than one big preparation to rule the kingdom someday, but he felt as if he hardly had any control over his own life.

Still, Sigurd knew Eivor was right, and he knew he couldn’t afford to deviate from the path set out in front of him. The war with Kjotve was much bigger than either of them, and everyone’s safety was depending on this alliance.

“I... understand, Eivor.” He said quietly.

The younger man hung his head low, unable to ignore the guilt settling into his mind. “I’m sorry it has to be like this, Sigurd.”

“Don’t be. What you’re doing is noble. Not everyone would have your restraint.”

Eivor’s mood barely lightened at that. “It doesn’t feel noble. But I know it’s necessary.”

Sigurd nodded solemnly, unsure of what to say anymore. “...Indeed.”

Having had enough of this place, the older man took hold of the oar and stuck it into the water, eager to return to solid land.

“We should starting heading back.” He said abruptly, earning a tilt of the head from Eivor.

“Already? Are you sure? We haven’t even been out for that long.”

“I know, but I fear that my free time is rather limited today. An abundance of tasks awaits me in Bjornheimr, and I’m almost certain that my father will require my presence as well.”

Eivor peered at Sigurd with concern, clearly able to see that he had been affected by their conversation.

“Okay.” He agreed tentatively. “If you’re sure.”

“I am. Come on, I’ll row you back to the village. Just sit back and relax.”

Guiding their boat away from the fjord, Sigurd steadily drove them back to the shoreline without uttering another word as Eivor sat quietly on his side, admittedly feeling somewhat remorseful for having dimmed the mood.

Initially, he had been excited to spend more time with the forlorn prince, but now, he wondered if he had made a mistake. It was no question that a special type of bond connected the two of them, and Eivor mentally scolded himself for allowing it to strengthen even further.

At this point, part of him was considering the idea of severing their relationship. It was difficult enough battling the constant temptation that he felt whenever he was with Sigurd, so Eivor thought that, perhaps, it might’ve been best if he simply eliminated the chance for it to show up again.

There would be no need to practice restraint if the prince avoided him altogether. They would be complete strangers just like before, and Eivor wouldn’t have to worry about clashing with his desires on a daily basis.

But... he knew he wouldn’t be able to do such a thing. He cared about Sigurd too much, despite only having known him for a week. That man housed something special within his heart, and the last thing Eivor wanted was to cast it aside.

Still, he didn’t know how he would proceed from here. Sigurd was aware of his admiration now, and any interactions between them would’ve bred nothing but awkwardness.

They both needed some time to get their thoughts in order, and frankly, Eivor was starting to feel grateful that the other man decided to make such a swift exit. He needed to be alone for a while, and it was evident that Sigurd also had plenty to think about himself.

It was one of those moments where Eivor felt the urge to seek out guidance, and he knew exactly who to get it from. 

He just worried that they would tell him precisely what he didn’t want to hear.

~~~~~~~~~~

BJORNHEIMR, THE DOCKS

“Here we are.” Sigurd announced, letting the boat drift towards the pier as he gazed into the distance. “...And it looks like Dag is waiting for me. Just like I expected.”

Eivor stood up from his seat. “What does he want from you?”

His friend put down the oar and climbed back onto the docks, taking their supplies with him. “Nothing. It’s my father who probably wants something. Dag is merely the messenger. I just hope it’s not what I think it is.”

Walking briskly ahead of the other man, Sigurd strode down the wooden pier and made a beeline straight for Dag as Eivor hurried to his side, abandoning the boat. 

A newfound irritation had worked its way into the prince’s usually serene demeanor, and the Wolf-Kissed wondered if he’d finally learn the reason behind Styrbjorn’s aforementioned absence at the war table.

“Dag,” the redhead called out in a firm tone. “What are you doing here?”

The bulky warrior removed himself from the tree he had been leaning on and approached Sigurd, appearing no more pleased than before.

“The king requests your presence at the longhouse.” He informed. “There’s a problem he needs your help with.”

Sigurd sighed in defeat, plopping the basket down in frustration. “Of course he does. Is it the same ‘problem’ as yesterday?”

Dag nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

The prince shook his head angrily. “That drink-addled fool...! He promised me this wouldn’t be an issue. What is he doing now?”

“He’s waiting for you in his chambers. Same as always. I suggest you hurry. He’s in a worse state than usual.”

Sigurd’s face stiffened with ire. “And it’s no one else’s fault but his. What is that man thinking?” He paused for a second, recomposing himself. “...Thank you for letting me know, Dag. Hopefully, we’ll never have to have this conversation again.”

The raider began strolling away from them, pessimistic about the idea. “Hopefully, but not likely.”

Removing himself from the scene, Dag disappeared once again while Eivor took his place, confused as to what just happened. It was quite obvious to him that Styrbjorn seemed to be at the core of this issue, but he hadn’t the faintest idea what the issue was exactly.

“What’s going on?” Eivor asked. “Is your father safe? Do you need any help?”

Sigurd quickly rejected the offer. “No, no. He’ll be fine. He’s just being an idiot. It’s best if I deal with this alone. Believe me.”

The younger man’s curiosity remained fervent, but he decided not to press anymore. The prince was evidently in a state of heightened exasperation at the moment, and Eivor suspected that any further questions would’ve only earned him more animosity.

“...Alright. If you say so. But don’t hesitate to ask for my aid if you need it.”

“Thank you, Eivor. I appreciate it.”

Forcing himself to relax, Sigurd rubbed his temple out of stress and turned to face Eivor, softening the jagged edge of his voice.

“Forgive me. I don’t mean to be so irate, but things are chaotic enough as it is, and my father is only making things worse. He’s ignoring all of his responsibilities, and piling them on my shoulders instead. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t affecting me.”

Something clicked in Eivor’s head. “So that’s why you’ve been so busy.”

“Yes. That, and a few other things. But those matters are irrelevant right now. The only important thing I have to say is... thank you. For taking the time to come with me today.”

“Of course, Sigurd. You need only ask.”

The older man beamed warmly. “...You truly are a blessing. You know that, Eivor? I genuinely believe you’re the only person I can fully rely on. You’re a man worthy of trust.” He placed his hands on his hips, returning to his usual temperament. “But I’ve idled for long enough. My father’s probably wondering where I am. Feel free to take all the fish we caught. You deserve it for putting up with me today.”

Eivor took the basket in hand, waving goodbye to Sigurd. “Farewell for now, my friend. Take care of yourself. And remember, I’m here if you need me.”

The prince started heading in the direction of the longhouse, returning the wave with one of his own. 

“The same goes to you. I may be busy, but my door’s always open, Wolf-Kissed. I only pray that our next meeting will be under better circumstances. Until then, stay safe. We all need you.”

[achliegh]

Happy

Alright my chickpeas, my little garbanzo beans (Wtf am I even saying) I am here to bring you the “Happy we-did-it Ending”. This one was really difficult for me to write because when it comes to good endings my mind just calls them fake. Which… I mean this is fiction so why can’t it be happy. Sorry if this sucks I tried my best. Please Read at your own risk! This is a triggering fic.

Love, Your Trash Monster

CW/TW: Past Abusive relationship, Anxiety, Depression, Panic Attack, past age difference relationship (Illegal)

Part1 Part2 Part3

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

Besides Luka, I made him up, don’t care for him tho

Leo's leg was bouncing uncontrollably, he and Sirius waited for Coach outside his office, He was grateful for Sirius like he felt indebted to him even though they only talked for maybe a half hour. He runs his hands through his hair for what feels like the millionth time.

“What if he doesn’t believe me?” He didn’t mean to say it out loud but when his captain turned and gave him a soft look, he realized he did. He looked down at his hands in his lap and picked at a bandaid. It was one of the Hello Kitty ones Logan bought on accident. “I mean I have no proof of any of this happening, What if Coach thinks I just dislike Luka for no reason and am trying to ruin his life or something like that… It wouldn’t be the first time an adult hasn’t believed me. I mean, there's that double standard that “Men don’t get sexually abused and if they do they don’t cry about it” it's why I never even told Finn and Lo until a few weeks ago. I didn’t want them to think less of me.” He smiles a little at the bandaid he was messing with and thinks about how lucky he is that his boys still love him. “I’m so lucky”

“I get it.” Sirius looked up just in time to see Arthur walking towards them. He smiles a little and stands with Leo next to him.

They follow Arthur into his office and sit down.

“So, is this about all the concerned people who have been telling me something is wrong with Leo?” His brushy red eyebrow lifts and he crosses his arms leaning back in his chair. “I was also told by a little Russian bird that there was an argument in the locker room between you and Luka. Leo whatever is going on it has a lot of people worried.” He leaned forward and set his hands on the arms of his big office chair. “Leo, you know I treat everyone of my players like my sons.”

Leo takes a shaky breath and clutches his hands together tightly in his lap. Gulping down the fearful frog in his throat he meets Coaches eyes. “ What I'm going to tell you is something I’ve only told to a few people. I don’t have any proof anymore, but I need you to believe me Coach.” He feels Sirius put a hand on his arm as a comforting I’m here motion. He told Arthur and Sirius everything, not leaving out any detail that he was comfortable enough to share. It was everything from the good, loving parts of the relationship that made him sick to his stomach now. To the horribly, hellish parts of the relationship that made him choke on his own tears. Leo didn’t think much of it back then (he was a little preoccupied trying not to break) but he remembered that most of Luka and his friend would film things with Leo because they thought it was funny to see him suffer or to save for later to use as blackmail on anyone in the videos.

“Wait, you said he filmed these things?” Arthur, who had turned white as a ghost and had a furious glint in his eye, started drumming his fingers. “Do you think he would have kept these videos throughout the two years you’ve been apart.?

“I know for a fact he's kept them” They both look at him with wide eyes and a silent invitation to explain. “He would ask me if I wanted to see them… or remake them” Talking about all this as making him feel like he was gonna puke. He had a foul taste in my mouth. Arthur put his head in his hands, he's devastated that he let such a fucking asshole interact with his team. That he let his youngest player suffer like that.

Sirius had stood abruptly from his chair and was pacing behind Leo’s chair with his hand interlocked on the back of his neck. He exhales deeply, seething with anger. How could he let this go on so long, he had picked up on Leos habits because Remus had pointed out how similar the two of them were at times. He feels like he failed as a Captain for not doing something sooner.

“Is there anything we can do, Coach? I mean, can we at least fire him?” He stopped pacing and ran a hand over his face, taking a deep breath as he looked at the young kid next to him. How was he so good at hiding his pain? People would say that Sirius was good at that too but everyone on the team has seen him crack and spiral. Leo was always this calm, collected, cool support. He acted so mature for being so young and it was all clicking in his head. Everything about this 19 year old goalie was formed from the love and support of his family, but also the hate and abuse from a lover. He has experienced more than most people on the same team as him that are older than him.

“We can fire him, and if we do call the police, they can seize his electronics. If he really does still have those videos they could lock him up for CP because you were underage at the time. Nothing is guaranteed though.” He's deep in though, sometime during the processing of everything Leo had told them he had grabbed his laptop and was furiously typing an email to the Lead of the Organization. He hit send and looked up to the two hockey players. “I’m going to talk to Mr. Godic and Luka together. I already had a meeting with Mr. Godric today about next year's fundraisers but this is a more important topic.” he stands up and looks at Leo “Thank you for telling me Nut. That was very brave of you” He smiles weakly and Ruffles Leo’s hair. “If you ever need anything just let me know, okay?” He nods towards Sirius and walks out the door to his meeting.

“We should get you home, your boys are waiting.” He smiles softly as Leo stands and is taken by surprise when Leo pulls him into a tight hug mumbling “thank you” into his shoulder.

Leo was so happy, he felt lighter than he has in the last two years. He gets squeezed by the man he wrapped himself around and laughs wetly. When they pull away they both wipe their eyes and smile at each other. This was a new chapter to both their lives.

Sirius dropped Leo off at home after a stop at a drive through for an ice cream cone (that he may or may not have dropped on Sirius’ floor and got an annoyed glare) he walked in the front door and was talked into a pile of limbs and smothering kisses. He laughed freely and kissed both his boys sweetly and conveyed so much love.

As the Cubs made dinner together and sang to a random playlist. Logan burned half the food and Finn dropped a third of it. Good thing Leo tripled the recipe so they had enough to eat for the night. Putting on a mind numbing cooking show they just waxed poetically about how much they love each other. Around 7:30 pm Leo's phone started vibrating and a picture of Arthur sleeping on the bus with Talker doing a thumbs up flashes on his screen.

“What happened?” He is very anxious about everything that could go wrong, all of that melted away when Arthur shared the news.

“He's been taken down to the station and his phone has been seized. He was angry when confronted and actually tried to take a swing at me before security was called. If this ends up going to court would you be able to, you know, stand trial. I mean telling your coach is one thing but a room of strangers is different. Especially because the media will be all over this case.”

Leo had to think about this, if he didn’t go and testify this case would only air on the local news. Then again, he could change people's lives. He could be a role model for people who are too afraid to tell about their experiences. That's worth more than anything. He may be shamed online but it doesn’t matter. He Needed to do this.

“Yeah, this is something I need to do.”

[ddagent]

Can we have some King Jaime paragraphs?

Of course, Anon! 

He was no longer King Jaime, first of his name. No longer the Golden Lion; no longer, perhaps, even The Kingslayer. He was a shadow; the Stranger with a bloody crown. A cripple. A one-handed man who could barely protect his wife, let alone the whole realm. 

And everyone knew it. 

The first time Jaime ventured out of his chambers since his return to King’s Landing, he saw them whisper. The men who had stared upon him with awe, the women who wished he would entice them into his bed – now they just stared, and whispered, and smiled. He had been broken on the King’s Road; his sword hand, his crown, his whole world taken by a man who had been slain not by Crown soldiers; not by Lannister men. 

No, King Jaime, first of his name, had been saved by his wife. 

“Your–your Grace,” stuttered his squire; a slight boy with a mop of brown hair. Jaime could not recall his name. “A–are you planning to d–dine at your usual spot?” 

Jaime shook his head. “No, boy. No.” 

He took himself back inside, then. Away from the whispers; the stares. Away from everyone. His sweet sister was the first to visit. She didn’t stay long; the absence of the hand that had touched her, loved her, bringing nothing but revulsion upon her delicate features. Cersei’s children – their children – did not visit at all, even though Joffrey had been at Jaime’s heel since he was a boy. His children with his wife did not visit him, either. He was not surprised. Tyrion has visited; Addam, too. But after a while, no one but servants came to see him. And even then, Jaime told them to get out. 

And then, four weeks after his glorious return to the capital, the doors to his chambers opened. “If you’re bringing food, leave it by the door. If you’re bringing anything else, you can get the fuck out.” 

“Charming as ever, I see.” 

Jaime’s head snapped in the direction of the doorway. His wife was framed in the dwindling afternoon sun; her ocean-blue eyes catching the light. He turned away; his face cast in shadow. “Wife.” 

Queen Brienne swallowed. “Husband. The servants tell me you’ve barely been eating. Your squire—”

“—should not be talking to you.”

“Would you rather he talk to your father?” The Hand to the King hadn’t visited his son, either. Jaime bristled at the mention. “Thankfully, Podrick prefers my company to the rest of your family.”

“How delightful, Wife, you’ve finally found someone in Court who can stand you.”

“Other than my children, of course.”  

Jaime’s gaze met Brienne’s. He’d always been...fearful of looking directly into her eyes. They were guileless, and innocent, and he had loathed his reflection in them. He could say that that was what had driven them apart all these years, but in truth, they had never been together. Brienne of Tarth, Northern ward turned rebellion leader, forced to be his Queen to unite the kingdoms. He, the Kingslayer; she, the starlight who had helped save the city. Bound together by vows, hatred, and three blonde cubs with bright blue eyes. 

He sagged back in his chair. “What do you want, Brienne?”

“To see how you are.”

Jaime laughed: the sound strained; his vocal cords unused. “And now you have.” He stood, inelegantly. His clothes, a mere muslin shirt and breeches, hung from his thin frame. He hadn’t shaved in some time; the only thing he’d done was change the bandages on his wrist. Jaime gestured with his right arm, waiting for his dear wife to pull away; run away. 

She did not. “Sit down.” He didn’t move. “I said, sit down.” Brienne shook her head. “Honestly, it’s no wonder where Cat gets it from.” 

As Brienne turned towards a nearby table, Jaime did, in fact, follow her direction. The corners of his mouth twitched at the mention of their eldest daughter. “How are the children?” 

Brienne thumped a basin of water down beside his elbow. "You’ve never cared before.” She folded herself into the seat opposite him. “Cat is fine. She’s avoiding your father; he keeps foisting suitors upon her. That is, however, when he’s not grooming Brynden to replace you as soon as possible.” She swallowed. “Joanna asks after you daily. She’s still young enough to love her father.” 

“I’m sorry, Brienne.” 

“For what? Agreeing to marry me? Loving your sister? Having three bastard children and loving them more than mine?” Brienne sighed, trailed off; instead busying herself with soap and a sharp blade. Yanking his face close to hers, she lathered his cheeks and began to scrape the hair from his face. “I knew you were an oathbreaker when I married you. I should have known you wouldn’t keep your vows to me.” 

Jaime didn’t offer a rebuttal. Just allowed Brienne run the blade over his cheeks; the steel rinsing in the basin. He felt lighter with every stroke, as if it were a sparring match in the yard. Jaime sighed. He would never spar again; never pick up a sword again. But Brienne...she’d slain Locke without a second thought. She was good. Graceless, but good. 

“Back in the woods, you were...I’d never seen you use a sword before.” 

“Well, you were safely tucked away in the Red Keep when I was fighting with Robert and Ned.” The blade glided under his chin; no nicks or scratches. Perhaps he had been too premature in calling her graceless. “I’ve kept at it these last sixteen years or so. There’s a spot overlooking the Blackwater that we go to.” 

“We?” 

Brienne flushed. “Catelyn and I. I taught her myself. She’s good. Better than Brynden. She was made to have a sword in her hand.” 

“You can be un-made.” 

The blade fell from his face. Brienne dabbed a corner of a cloth in the basin and wiped the soap residue from his face. The pads of her fingers ran over the hollow of his cheeks, the roughness of his bottom lip; finishing the job. Her hands then pulled away, only to settle on his right arm. Brienne held him tight. 

“I cannot imagine the pain you are feeling. But I do know you are the most stubborn man I have ever met. You will re-train; you will be good – a damn sight better than most of the men in this city. You will fight, and you will be the Golden Lion once again. And when you are, all I ask is that you set my children and I aside and find a new wife. You will let me and my children return to Tarth.” 

“Brienne—”

“—I’ll train you myself. And you can find someone younger, and prettier, and have babes your family can devour whole. But not my son. Not my daughters.” 

Jaime hesitated, but ultimately nodded. If he could do one thing right by them, it was this. “You have my word, for how little it means to you. When I’m fit again to retake the throne, I’ll set you aside and remarry. You and the children can return...you can go home, Brienne.” 

“Thank you, Husband.” 

"Jaime.” He said as Brienne rose from her seat. It was always Husband or Your Grace; even after the times they’d fucked, there was always a barrier between them. He did not deserve her kindness and he felt no love for her, but he’d like to hear her say it, just once. “My name’s Jaime.” 

“We’ll start tomorrow at sun rise. Jaime.”

Brienne left with a single nod. He watched his wife depart and then stared at the space where his hand should be. He’d lost everything. Cersei couldn’t bear the sight of him; his wife and children were desperate to escape him. But if he could fight again, that would be something. It wouldn’t be much of a life, but it would be something. 

[choco-glow]

Just One Yesterday

“Commander…Master…um…” The scarred man in the dark, hooded robes, his mask laying in his lap, chin resting on his gauntlet, glanced up over his knuckles and quirked an eyebrow, dark eyes bloodshot and exhausted…And the young Jedi gulped. “I um…Master…Master Oteg wishes to speak to you?” He only nodded, waiting for the young man to scamper off, and lifted himself from the chair, stealing another glance back out at the stars. It had become a comfort to see the stars outside the clear bulwark; three long, horrific centuries he’d been held in that prison of body and mind, and yet, the stars had changed little in all that time.

He left his mask hanging on his belt (Mandalore’s mask, a dozen lifetimes ago, made his when he’d fought back the Clans, when he’d first fallen…) and made his silent way through the ship, footfalls as light as the wind on Manaan. The meditation chambers were…oddly comforting, and Revan breathed in the rich scent of the vilian flowers, their crawling vines hanging heavy all about the room. It smelled like Dantooine, like home; Tython had been the ancient home of the Order, long ago, and he’d been there once upon a time as a young Padawan himself in distant, blurred memories, but Dantooine was far stronger in his heart, far fresher in his memory…and stolen moments with his friends, his crew, had made the pastoral planet a home that before, he hadn’t had.

“You are so much stronger than me, and you returned from the dark side. I too can do the same, with your guidance, Master Revan…”

“Maybe you’re smarter than I thought, taking advice from an old man like me…been a long while since I came back home…Don’t make my mistakes, young’un.”

“Kinda nice place, reminds me of Telos, of home…Y’know, you’re the first real friend I’ve had that cared about what happened to Morgana and Dustil…”

“Check it out, Big Z! This place is pretty cool…Let’s go up there! C’mon, Zaalbar, let’s go explore! You can eat later!”

“Arrrghh, rrraagh rrrrrh!” *

“Heh, never thought I’d get a taste for the quiet life, and yet, here we are…aliit ori'shya tal'din, Jetii.” **

”I…know you can’t possibly forgive us for what we’ve done to you…and I won’t make excuses for it. But I’m glad you’re back. I really am…”

“Master Revan Shan.” He blinked, shaking his head free of the voices, long, long dead and gone, and found himself staring down at a very, very familiar face…and he swallowed. This Master Oteg…he could have been a dead ringer for Master Vandar, but Vandar Tokare was dead, betrayed on a far away planet long ago, and a sudden surge of homesickness and sorrow flooded Revan’s heart and mind…And the kindness he felt through the Force, through Oteg’s aura, undid him completely. It pushed away the darkness he felt in his very soul, and he reached for it, for the Master before him.

He collapsed though, tears streaming down his face, and for as small as the older Master was, now Revan was the pupil before him, prostrate with grief and longing. The elfin creature, his wrinkles marking his age, his green eyes soft, laid a gentle, clawed hand on his shoulder and drew him close, comforting the broken man as though he were his own Padawan. “Oh my boy…for all that you’ve a century on me, you’ve been so lost…” He wept, unashamed, three long centuries of death and despair and Vitiate’s claws in his mind, and Revan clung to Oteg through the storm of emotions, until the winds finally faded.

“How…how did you know my surname? No one knew I took Bastila’s name…she wanted it that way, and I didn’t dare risk our babe…All I had of her was the dreams and our dyad, our bond…and even then, I couldn’t look too hard, for fear of him…” He whispered when the sobs eased, when he managed to speak again, his voice hoarse and aching, and Oteg hummed, patting his hair with a gentleness that Revan didn’t feel he deserved…but he accepted it gladly, desperate for any sort of contact. It was a parent’s touch, and he closed his eyes, leaning into it.

“Bastila told me. Well…not in person. Not the way she wanted to. But she did tell me about you…and her love for you.” Revan’s heart ached at that, but he eased back, rubbing the tears off his face and taking a long, deep breath, letting it out with a sigh. “As for the rest…I know what was done to you. What you lost in memory, and in your life. Very many do know the basic facts…and the rest, much like many other legends deep in the galaxy, have myths to lean heavily on. But we in the Jedi, and even a bare handful of Sith, know the truth of who and what you were after the Masters erased your memory…but we don’t know who you were before that. Much…was lost, both accidentally and otherwise.” Revan nodded, lips twisting a little with anger.

“…I have a few memories. Vitiate…well, I won’t say he kept me sane, because he…nothing that was done in that hellish fortress was sane. But there was one Sith, a pureblood, who had no name as we know it, but he knew me. He knew me very well, and he knew how to retrieve memories, even those thought to be erased…and in return for my aid in influencing Vitiate’s mind, he helped me retain my sanity…and regain some of my loss. Not all of it…I don’t know my old name, nor my birthplace, or even my true age. I don’t have a birthday…but I have the memories of the Star Forge, how I got it rebuilt, how I used it…and how I fell.”

“And you have Bastila.” Revan closed his eyes at that, tears burning under his eyelids, and oh, he had Bastila…those memories, the dreams he’d watched over her in, with Scourge’s help, he’d kept from Vitiate, kept everything from the monster in regards to his son, to his heart, to his friends…Carth had lived on, Mission and Zaalbar had survived. Juhani, Canderous, Jolee…Even HK had survived. Teethree…He ached at the loss of the little droid, that night he lost Meetra too, and a touch of the Force soothed his grief, Meetra’s ghost giving him that one last lingering gift yet still.

“…My friends and my love. But…They are gone now, long gone. What can the Council ask of me now? I’m a broken husk of what I once was…” He murmured, meeting Oteg’s eyes once more, though tears still burned down his cheeks, his scars aching as much as his heart. Oteg only smiled, and with a gesture of the Force, brought over a set of tea cups, and a kettle, still steaming from the range nearby.

“For now, they ask me to heal you, as much as you can bear; of heart-wounds as much as the Force-depletion and literal physical wounds you’ve endured too. And they ask you to rest; even with hyperdrives, it’s a long, long way back to Tython.”

“…Not Coruscant?”

“No. For one, the Jedi Temple is still in ruin there, from the war, and for another, I will not allow the Senate to inflict itself on you. Tython is not Dantooine, and sadly we’ve not rebuilt the enclave on Dantooine for many reasons…but it is largely safe, and the Order is many, many more Jedi strong now. There is darkness there…but I trust you. As does the Grandmaster and the rest of the Council.” He blinked at that, and when Oteg offered him the fragrant tea, thankfully not from Dantooine, Revan managed to even sip it a little, rolling the strange, interesting spices on his tongue. It wasn’t the same…but different wasn’t bad, either.

“…I appreciate that. I truly do. For now…the rest…it is very deeply needed. I hope…perhaps I may be allowed to lay out a bedroll here? The vines…remind me of home.” He swallowed the rest of his statement, and Oteg smiled, broadly now.

“I don’t mind in the slightest, but I have a spare bedroom too, with the vines inside as well. You’re welcome to rest there as long as you need to. Dantooine was under my watch for many years, and I grew these vines for much the same reason Bastila did; for the comfort they brought me. The tea is a healing herb from Tython, with a bit of root from my favorite spot on Alderaan to gather flowers and other plants, and will help settle your stomach to handle food that’s more solid than an intravenous line.”

“…Thank you. I suspected I’d be on mush for a while.” Oteg chuckled at Revan’s wryness, and Revan’s lips quirked up, just a little, before he sipped his tea again. The Master shifted away and began puttering about the place, and Revan settled back against the cushions of a rounded lounge seat, tilting his head back and just…breathing. Closing his eyes, with the breeze off the vents, he could just about pretend he was back on the Khoonda Plain, out under the biryan trees, his crew dozing all around him. Canderous snoring, Carth humming softly, Bastila’s soft breathing, her hand just touching his…Jolee’s quiet reading, turning page after page of a well-worn book.

Zaalbar grooming his fur, making the soft little Wookiee noises that one might chitter at a cub, while Mission dozed against Carth’s side with Zaalbar at her back, curled up and breathing so lightly that you couldn’t hear her hardly at all. Juhani practicing her Force manipulation by healing the very earth around her, in apology to her last master and the darkness she’d sought there, and of course, the distant sounds of blaster fire as HK and Teethree hunted for dinner. And Revan, in the center of it all, soaking up the sunshine like a flower that had been buried for far too long, his heart full of light and love, the darkness banished…Another tear slipped over his cheek, and he let it fall, let them all fall, as he gave into the slumber carrying him off into his memories once more.

I love you all so much…I miss you…

A week solid of rest, good food, and healing had brought Revan back to the living nearly completely, and he ignored the hollow ache in his very soul as he stepped off the shuttle onto the first planet he’d seen in three centuries. The Force healing had done wonders for his connection to the ancient power, and already, he could feel the shades of light and dark in the Force on Tython, just as Master Oteg had said. The Rakatans weren’t wrong…I wonder how much of the past the Jedi really know? Because the Rakata Elders had known so, so much…even with as much as was lost, they told me everything…

“Master Revan.” He paused, his mask now hidden behind his breastplate, his hood drawn back despite how it made him feel too visible…and looked up at the man standing before him, a human male with a simple cut to his brown hair and deep lines from what looked to be a near constant frown. He sensed annoyance, no little anger, and a certain amount of frustration at having to greet this particular guest, and Revan smiled, just a little, though there was no humor in it. Let him be angry; he’s not half the fighter I am, for all that I’ve been in stasis for so long, and he damn well knows it.

His lightsabers, saved by Scourge long ago, had been battered and broken, but Oteg had been kind enough to provide him with the tools and crystals to restore them…and Revan had them now on each hip, a purple one…and a red one. He’d hesitated over that crystal for a moment, feeling the weakness in the green, blue, and yellow ones…and finally, he closed his hand around the gem…and felt the Force hurtle through him, tasting the power on his tongue. Perhaps it is too much of a temptation… He hadn’t gotten this far by taking the easy path, though, and he was more than strong enough to handle that power.

Oteg…hadn’t commented on that. Revan found that he was grateful for it. This man, though…Revan bowed, slightly, keeping his attitude to himself for the time being, and opting for aloof and mysterious. There was a darkness here that seeped into the very heart of the Temple; he could sense it, though it was far older than Vitiate, far baser and weaker…but it had survived much in the many, many millennia since the Jedi had left. The ruins at Kaleth are what Oteg warned me about; someone’s been poking where they shouldn’t.

“I am. And you are, Master…?” His tone was perfectly polite, crisp and just a touch of that ‘Alderaanian noble’ air, which had the exact effect Revan intended. He’d had it for years before his fall, and rebuilt it with Carth’s help during their fight against Malek, and after; it served him in good stead now. The man straightened, anger flashing in his blue eyes, and his lips twisted before he spoke again, his voice acidic enough that Revan smiled even more. Bingo. Little prick makes me miss HK all the more. What I wouldn't give for a classic "Meatbags." comment right now.

“Master Jaric Kaedan. This way, if you so please.” He whirled and stomped off, and Revan followed along behind him, his ancient styled robes billowing in a way that seemed to startle the Jedi they passed. Master Kaedan kept a brisk pace, but looked unnerved when he glanced back to find Revan keeping pace with him, hands tucked in a hidden set of pockets, his footfalls just as silent as before on the ship, and Revan’s smirk only grew. Brat. If only he knew the truth…but then, I’ve fallen, and I’m wearing the shadows of what I once was. I suppose I can forgive his anger.

The Padawans and trainees they passed didn’t know what to think of the scarred man in long, tattered black robes; he’d been given the option of clean, more neutral ones from Oteg, but he’d only cleaned his old ones, and pulled them back on, taking comfort in the Star Forge’s armor. Pity my white robes are long gone, because they would have been far better for this, but I don’t want to lose myself yet again, this time in the Jedi once more.

The great room with the enormous Force-driven rotating holocron in the middle was oddly calming, and had Revan a minute to spare, he would have lost himself in watching it, drinking in the healing calmness of the Force that radiated from the enormous dodecahedron. But Kaedan was too fast, and Revan bit back his annoyance, following the impatient man to the Council doors. There, he opened the smaller entrance door, ushering Revan inside…and for the first time in a long time, Revan stopped dead, his mind reeling at the sheer power contained in the room. Oteg really meant it…Atris had betrayed the Jedi, evil bitch that she was, she decimated us…but this…

Hope swelled in his heart, for the first time in…well, centuries, and Revan eagerly stepped forward, feeling his fear and anger melt away, joy making a smile touch his lips as he made his way to the Masters lined up before him…

SLAP.

The blow struck him perfectly from the handsome woman who stepped up to him, her long braids still swinging from the gesture, blue-gray eyes furious, and Revan brought a gloved hand up to his jaw, moving the joint to make sure it wasn’t broken. He studied her, eyes wide, shock freezing him in place, and he swallowed, a sinking feeling in his gut now.

“…You…look awfully familia-”

SLAP. The second slap had a stinging burst of power behind it, and it knocked Revan off his feet, tossing him back with an ease that made his heart absolutely drop into his boots…and he gazed up at his descendant with a gulp, shrinking a little under the gaze all Shan women perfected long before they reached adulthood. He could see where time and DNA had changed the look of her, but those eyes, those eyes were all Bastila’s legacy, and Revan felt another pang for the woman he’d loved so much, and the son he’d never known.

“…Shit.”

“You selfish son of a bitch, you’re damn right I look familiar. I am Grandmaster Satele Shan, of the Jedi Order. And on behalf of my great-grandmother, I deliver this message.” She snarled out, eyes flashing, all sense of calm lost in a sea of anger…and she held up a holocron…no, a Noetikon. A Noetikon that Revan hadn't ever seen before...but he could feel the power stored within it deep in his very soul. Revan’s eyes widened as a figure appeared, all in the soft blue of the hologram…but he knew that face, that body, those eyes anywhere.

“…Bastila?” He whispered, and she gazed down at him, her expression a mixture of sorrow and anger…and reached out a hand to him. He couldn’t take it, knew he couldn’t feel anything…but he reached for her too, his whole being yearning for her.

“Revan…” She murmured, and he choked on a sob, fingers closing on air and light, fighting to keep his composure before all these strangers. Oteg had been safe, had known many of the surviving masters, had even been mentored by Jolee…and he’d known Revan’s true self. These people didn’t. “…you know, I had a whole rant saved up, after all this time, how you abandoned us, how you left me without an explaination, how you were so damned selfish…”

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…I was selfish, I was a selfish bastard, and I deserve everything that I’ve been punished with…but I didn’t want to see you suffer more, and I couldn’t trust the Council…I couldn’t trust anyone but Carth, Jolee, and Juhani to keep you and Vaner safe…and I needed the others to keep each other safe, as best they could, and live the lives they deserved. Atris…I saw what she was becoming…”

“I know.” It was so simple, so poignant a sentence, and he froze, heart in his throat, eyes wide. “In uploading my consciousness to this Noetikon, enough to reason and think, I was also able to listen, to learn…and to understand. I’m still angry with you…but I love you enough to forgive you. You knew just how powerful Vitiate was…even if you didn’t remember entirely, you knew he was coming back. You knew…and you fought back the best way you knew how, but you had us to protect…and you were right. I was in no shape to fight alongside you, and neither was Jolee in his old age. Juhani and Carth gladly would have, and could, but…you were right again there.

“Had they left us, Jolee and I would have been found. Vaner…our little boy, he would have died…But he built a family of his own, and they continued that proud tradition, defying the Order in the one way that mattered to all of us…we chose love. I never regretted that…I never regretted you. I still don’t.” He drank in that forgiveness, those words, and laughed, aching, but real, blessedly real, when she chuckled a little. “I’m still mad, but I got over it pretty well, I think. Our children’s children, however, you’ll have to earn their forgiveness.”

“I…suspected as much. Bastila…I know this isn’t the same as a Force Ghost, nor are you entirely you, as you were…but I love you. I love you, and I am sorry…and I hope, I hope that matters at least a little.” The hologram smiled, soft and sweet…and winked out, leaving Revan to blink up at his descendant, confused and heartbroken…when a soft, ethereal voice filled the room, and it was Satele’s turn, along with the other Council members, to go wide-eyed in shock as they started at something behind him. Revan breathed in the scent of vilian flowers and a touch of leather, his heart leaping now as he slowly stood, turned…and there she was, not the older woman in the hologram, mature and long into her life…

“It always mattered.”

But his Bastila. His beautiful wife, her ponytails a little messy, her old robes shabby from sparring and exploring, her smile blinding in its joy. She was a ghost, that much was certain; the glow made it obvious, and though she had color in her skin and hair now, her clothes were a pale gray…he knew from experience that a ghost could only project so much. But when he wrapped his arms around her, she was firm to the touch, her curves fitting perfectly against his angles, and he buried his face in her shoulder, breathing in the scent of her with a shaky breath.

“Revan…”

“Bastila…”

“I can’t hold this for long…but the power here is enough to give us this.” She whispered, and he brought his head back up, pressing his forehead to hers, hugging her tight.

“It’s enough. It’s enough for me, to see you, hold you…” He murmured back, and they clung to one another. He augmented his power into hers, willing her to stay, just a little longer, and she relaxed in his arms…And it was Master Oteg, wise, good Master Oteg, who ushered the rest out of the Council chambers, letting Revan guide his beloved back to a small loveseat at the rear of the chamber, the two of them curling up together. They spoke of their son, a lifetime of memories that Revan had seen only in her dreams, of their grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, of Tasiele and Satele, and Theron, Satele’s SIS agent son.

Time became meaningless once more for Revan, for Bastila, for both of them, and when words began to fail them…they simply let their hearts say the rest, slow kisses and touches bleeding into one another. But their time was growing short…Revan could feel her slipping back into the Force, feel her strength waning…and when she gazed up at him, the color draining away, her eyes growing sad and weary…Revan kissed her, soft and sweet and lingering.

“It’s alright, love…”

“I have missed you so much…it’s too cruel that we only get this…” She murmured, and he tucked her under his chin, wrapping around her the way she wrapped around his waist and chest, hugging her tightly as he could.

“It is too cruel…but we were never graced with much luck, were we, my heart…” He whispered back, his voice hoarse from the long hours of talking, and the tears.

“…No, we never were. But we had one another…” He smiled at that, and she glanced up, smiling back. Revan touched his forehead to hers again, and Bastila sighed a little, fingers tightening in his robes, his chestplate and back armor long banished to the floor. “I love you, Revan…”

“I love you too, Bastila. It’s alright…you can let go…I’ll follow you soon. I promise. I…there isn’t much of me left, despite what they’ve done to heal me…” He whispered, and she opened her eyes, those gray irises just as captivating as the day they’d met on his flagship, all those long years ago…and when they met again, him fresh off the swoopbike and her fresh out of a fight, the two of them angry and a little in love already.

“…I’ll be here for you. Always.” She murmured, resting one hand on his heart…and with a sigh, she became nothing once again, the warmth of her hand lingering still over his heart, the touch of her lips still on his…and the scent of vilian flowers filling the air. He stared into space for a long, long time…and when he rose again, he buckled on his armor in silence, and with a gesture, opened the doors to allow the other Jedi to come back in. But before he turned…he took out his mask, and stared down at it.

The long lines of red and black, the smoky visor; he’d worn it when he went after the Emperor, after augmenting it with as much tech as he could to keep the monster from infiltrating his mind. But that hadn’t helped him when Meetra was murdered, when Teethree was cut down…and though he hated Scourge for what he’d done, he knew it was on Vitiate’s orders. And he knew too, could sense it, that the Emperor still held power, even now. …I cannot be a Jedi again. Be it my own darkness, or the taint of the Emperor’s mind, there is little of the light left inside me now…and he still lives outside the Force. His power is too much for these young Jedi to handle…But I know it well.

He knew it better than any other, Jedi or Sith, even the Emperor’s Wrath, and he knew too how he could destroy Vitiate. Forever. I suspect I know what they will ask of me…and yet, I have so much more to do. I cannot leave him to continue destroying the galaxy…But I will hear them out. I owe my Bastila, and my descendant, that much.

Revan donned the mask once more, fitting it with ease, and turned, crossing his arms as he planted his feet, his voice deepening as he spoke.

“Grandmaster Shan, I believe you had a task for me…”

[jaeminlore]

The World is Ending and I'm With You

SPINOFF | PLAYLIST (pls listen while you read)

summary: and i won't sleep through this. i survive on the breath you are finished with. words: 6.1k+ category: angst, fluff, suggestive, mark won't stop talking about how he used to be a cub scout warning(s): death, religion mention, death mention, implied sex ohoho i'm getting bold, littering (not from mark bc he's a good boy), unedited a/n: john mayer song that's kind of an easter egg, and a poem at the end by someone called s.b.,,, also you don't have to read the spinoff to read this one :) but it does take place in the same universe/timeline.

You never were one for smoking. Your mother always told you it would increase risk of cancer, and in turn, death. But now the world is ending, and your mom hasn't been home in a few days. So, you smoke.

The convenience store you work at doesn't have many packs left. Your manager has some stupid rule about rationing stock now that delivery truck drivers are quitting at a rapid rate. They don't want to be stuck on the freeway when the meteor hits. Which makes sense to you, but it's all your bitter manager seems to complain about.

You take a pack out from behind the clear screen and extract a stick. You're in the middle of lighting it with a lighter that most certainly isn't yours when a wide-eyed boy appears in front of the counter. He dumps a basket full of snacks onto the register, followed by a plethora of hygienic products.

"You worried we'll run out?" You try to joke. Really, this is a small town, and your store is the biggest one in town (which isn't saying much at all.) It's completely possible.

The boy shrugs. "I'm gonna hit the road before everything goes down. I don't want to be here if a riot starts. Also, I want to find my soulmate."

"Don't we all?" You say, blowing smoke out of your mouth.

The boy coughs and gives you a short glare. "Something to look forward to, at least."

You throw the still-lit cigarette across the store. Part of you hopes it will catch on something and burn the store to the ground. But it goes out on the cold linoleum floor. You look at the boy again. "I'll give you all of this for free if you let me come with you."

(Mark isn't sure why he chooses a road trip in the first place. It's not like his beat up old van can outrun the end of the world. Maybe deep down, he hopes it can.

He also isn't sure why he's let you tag along, save for the fact that he really needs to stock up on food, just in case. And he's also lonely. Maybe talking to someone will calm his restless soul.)

-

Mark has a giant van. There's a mattress in the back, complete with a blanket and pillow. He tosses his groceries in the back and clumsily shoves the key in the ignition. "Are you sure about this? I'm going across the country."

You light another cigarette. Five packs stolen from your store sit in his glove compartment. "We have what? A week left? I have nowhere better to be."

He takes this answer and begins to drive. The radio is staticky, but you can make out the preacher's message of salvation in the last days. You wonder if it gives the boy comfort. It gives you anxiety, so you take a long drag and focus on the weird way the cigarette smoke warms your mouth. "I'm Y/n, by the way."

"I'm Mark." He turns down the radio. "I'm pretty sure my soulmate is in California, based on my tattoo."

"Okay," you say, because you really don't care. You haven't believed in soulmates since your parents got divorced. You throw the cigarette out of the window and try not to think about the way your moon tattoo burns against your collarbones. "Does your tattoo say California or something?"

"No, it's just a sun."

You want to call him dumb. Or stupid. Or an idiot. "California isn't the only place on earth with a sun, you know. And apart from that, it's a huge state. How are you gonna find your soulmate in a week?"

Mark takes an anxious sip of his gas station slushee. "I know it's stupid, okay? But I feel drawn there, so it's my only shot."

You lower the sun visor and grab the pair of aviators that are hooked onto it. "Well I feel drawn to the sea, so let's go to the beach first."

(Mark wants to tell you that he knows he won't find his soulmate. His soulmate is probably dead with the rest of the world that got caught in the atmosphere change. His soulmate is probably farther than California, but for some reason the state is stuck in his mind.

He remembers his aunt's beach house. Solar generators for electricity and water. A familiar place to stay in the end. But for now, he wants to take his chances on the road. He doesn't want to be dormant, and he knows you don't either.)

-

Mark hits Oregon at three in the morning. He nods off once and veers into the side of the highway before you finally convince him to pull over for the night.

He parks at a truck stop and the two of you take showers, using what products you and Mark bought (stole). You use more than you need. Shampoo gets in your eyes.

Your eyes are still burning when you meet up with Mark at the van. He's already asleep, an open bag of chips beside him. He must've been too tired to even eat.

The back of the van is covered in those battery-powered clip-on fans from the mall kiosks. Mark told you earlier that he had bought them on sale. You had asked earlier why he hadn't just stolen them.

He told you he believes in heaven, and doesn't want to hurt his chances of getting there. You told him you don't think good works matter anymore.

You eat the chips and fall asleep beside him, ignoring him as he mumbles random phrases in his sleep.

(Mark lays down on the mattress. The van is hot, even with the windows cracked, even with the cheap fans, so Mark feels his skin beginning to get sticky with sweat. He doesn't want to eat. He doesn't want to sleep. He doesn't want to breathe in this foggy air and think about the inevitable.

He wishes you would just come out of the shower and join him. He waits for what seems like ages, until he's too worn out to keep his eyes open. He falls into a restless sleep, not noticing the way the mattress dips when you join him.)

-

"My dad was a mafia boss," you say, spitting a sunflower seed shell onto the dashboard. The Clash is playing from Mark's radio, and the station wavers in and out as you drive across state lines.

"Really?" You've found that Mark's eyes grow obnoxiously big when he's surprised about something. His mouth forms a little 'o' shape and his voice grows softer. It's adorable, so you make it your mission to surprise him as much as you can. That, and road trips are pretty boring when the world is ending.

"No."

"Come on!" Mark pouts. You can see it in your peripheral vision. "Stop lying to me. I bet your dad doesn't even have a cool job."

"Guess then," you taunt. "By the way, we passed the California-Oregon state line like, five minutes ago."

Mark gasps and rolls down the window, looking back towards the passing highway, as if the sign is going to still be there. "I can't believe I missed it! This could be it. This is where we find our soulmates."

You spit out another shell. "I'm hoping my soulmate's name is Long Beach because that's where I'm going."

"Let's stay together," Mark says. He's biting his thumbnail, eyes towards the empty road in front of him. "I don't know how many more of us will be left."

You want to correct him and say that there are plenty of people left, and yet you know that a lot of people took the pill. Or got sick. Or killed in a raid. Funny, a meteor is scheduled to hit the earth and people decide to leave early. Or they lose their humanity entirely, and take people out with them. Truthfully, there aren't many people left at all.

"Okay," you say. Your eyes stay on his face a little longer than necessary. You take note of his wide, innocent eyes and wonder if he even understands what's happening. Or maybe he just looks like that. But really, all it does is make you want to protect him from the inevitable.

Maybe there's a secret spaceship you can hide him in, and he can start a new, albeit solitary, life on the moon.

You'd never make it to Area 51 in time. That's where they keep the spaceships, right?

(Mark doesn't know how to tell you that he doesn't even care about this stupid soulmate thing. He just doesn't want to be alone. He doesn't want to say that, because it means he has to vocally admit that he is alone. Truly. Not by choice.

He was out of town when his family got the flu. The atmosphere got too much. Whatever sickness killed and left as soon as it came, took them too. And he had to go. He had to get out, as far away from the east coast as he could. So he decided on the west coast. And then he decided on you.)

-

"Let's get our tan on!" You joke. The clouds are heavy and dark above the water. It looks like the sky and the water are becoming one, however slowly or quickly. You grab Mark's elbow and pull him towards the sea.

The waves roar against the silence of the land. There's a family down the ways, barely noticeable under the pier. You watch a seagull fly down towards the family and steal something. The little girl shrieks, but you don't know if it's in excitement or fear.

The beach is distractedly empty. No people — save those already mentioned — are anywhere to be seen. There's debris everywhere: old umbrellas, coolers, and towels are half-buried in the sand.

The tide is coming in higher (something the news channel probably warned about) and for some reason, it makes the world feel incredibly small.

Mark has already got his legs in the water. It's lapping at his clothed jeans, but he doesn't seem to mind. His back is turned to you. He's facing the horizon, still and silent.

You hate to ruin this for him, but as the mood grows more dismal, you want to lighten it.

You sneak up behind Mark and jump on his back. Your weight catches him off guard, and the two of you plummet into the cloudy water. Mark yelps when the water hits his torso. You fall in after him and grip his shoulders. Closing your eyes tight, you hold you breath and lift your face above the surface. "Feel refreshed?"

Mark coughs. He rubs his eyes, wincing when the salt reaches beneath his lids. "Why would you do that?"

"It's fun," you say.

Mark begins swimming into the deep water. He looks a bit like a lost child, doggy paddling in the vast sea. He grins, and his lips are a bit lopsided. You notice his cheeks grow hollow when he smiles. "You scared me, Y/n."

The sentence ends timidly, like he isn't sure if he's allowed to say your name out loud. But you like it. It's hesitant and soft; loud because it's the only word spoken for miles; quiet because it's Mark. You wonder briefly how to get him to say your name again.

The two of you swim until you can't touch the sandy floor below you anymore. Mark holds his own, but you struggle a bit. "They were right about the tide getting stronger."

"Here," Mark swims over to you and wraps his arm around your waist. "Stay close to me."

Something akin to reticence settles against the wall of your skull like the numb reminder that this is all very weird. Mark is a stranger, and you're cross-country with only him. It bothers you that your mind is already growing attached; your heart already growing attracted. This is the last thing you need to happen during your last days on this literal godforsaken earth.

You swim back to the shore first and lie on the sand. It clings to your wet skin. The tide laps at your feet. The sun is going down, and the air feels overwhelmingly muggy. You close your eyes.

(Mark thinks about the waves. He thinks about the frequency of your voice when he splashes you. He thinks of how your smile seems even prettier at this time of day. He thinks about the way you pulled back when he asked you to stay. While he knows this isn't exactly the time to fall for someone, he can't help but feel like he's starting to.

He watches you fall asleep in the sand. Your cheeks are red. Your eyelashes flutter against the tops of your cheeks. Your lips are chapped. Mark finds that he wouldn't mind kissing you. Or just simply being by your side.

For a few solitary moments, he doesn't even think about the end. Just the now.)

-

It feels like you blinked, but when you reopen your eyes you find that time has certainly gone by. Mark is sitting a ways away, stoking a makeshift fire.

"I was a Cub Scout," he says.

"I need a smoke." You go back to the van and pull out a pack and a lighter. Your brain feels fuzzy from having fallen asleep on the beach, and your back itches from the sand that has scratched its way down your shirt. To distract yourself, you lean against the van and take a drag; look up towards the sky.

It's a dark reddish black, some ominous code that the world is definitely coming to an end. Clouds swirl hazily against each other and you can see that a storm seems to be forming over the ocean. Months ago this would've been beautiful. An instagram-worthy shot, a coffee pot topic, and nothing more.

Right now it sends a chill down your spine.

You drop the cigarette and head back to where Mark is sitting. He has some kind of pot out over the fire, and what looks like a can of soup inside. The can itself is tucked neatly in the little box Mark has beside him. You wonder why he cares so much about a planet that's already dead. "Thanks. For, uh dinner."

"Yeah," Mark clears his throat and shifts in the sand. "That's what friends are for."

"We're friends now?" You raise your brow at Mark while he hands you a bowl of soup along with a spoon.

"I sure hope so," Mark quips. "I don't make soup for just anybody."

You laugh at that. Your heart stirs in excitement. Your stomach growls, so you ignore the heaviness in your chest and take a bite of your soup.

That night you fall asleep with a belly full of food and sand down your shorts. It's half-ideal, half-hell, but Mark gives you a hug before the two of you tuck in, so it's okay.

(Mark wants to say that he wishes the two of you were friends a lot sooner, but that would be weird. He's only known you for like, three days. Maybe he's delirious.

But he gives you a hug before you fall asleep anyway. He hopes you can't hear how fast his heart is beating. It's stupid anyway, he thinks.)

-

Four days left. Give or take. You aren't completely sure to be honest, and that brings on an entire onslaught of horror that you've never really felt before. There's something so terrifying about this whole thing. It's like you've knocked on Death's door, and you have no idea when he's actually going to open it.

Mark hides it well. He drives the two of you down to Hollywood Boulevard.

It's trashed. What was once the walk of fame is now defaced with graffiti, food, trash, and what looks like human feces. You throw up in the fake bushes and Mark pats your back while you do.

"Guess I won't get my picture with Kermit the Frog then," you joke.

Mark's eyes suddenly widen. He grabs his backpack straps. "There's a Kermit the Frog star?"

"Yeah," you laugh at Mark's expression. "My aunt was obsessed with The Muppets. She had a laminated picture of the star in her sewing room."

Mark bites his lip and averts his eyes. "I have a Polaroid. Not much film, but we might could get a few pictures."

The stars have to be cleared first. Mark comes up with the idea to sneak into one of the restaurants nearby and using their cleaning supplies. And since you have all day and nothing to lose, you agree.

The thing about a large and empty place like Hollywood Boulevard, is that every shadow feels like a threat. Memories of dystopian movies come flooding through your memories when Mark hands you a giant broom. You wonder if some evil man with a god complex is going to come and kidnap you both.

But the only people the two of you ever see is a man in a small shop that looks like it contains weed.

You and Mark sweep away as much debris as you can, while avoiding anything that came out of a human body. The graffiti covers a lot of the stars, but after a few hours of walking and sweeping, the two of you find it.

"Kermit," Mark breathes a side of relief before laughing out loud. His laugh is stark against the silence.

You join him anyway. "I can't believe we found Kermit! My aunt would be so jealous right now."

"Your aunt sounds weird," Mark says, no real bite to his remark.

"She is," you confirm. "She's up in Maine somewhere. At least, you know, last I heard."

Mark senses the change in tone and drops his backpack to the ground. He pulls out a baby pink Polaroid camera. He points it at you. "Say cheese, Y/n."

There's your name on his tongue again. That sound itself has you beaming as you lean against the brooms long handle and cock your head to the side. The camera clicks.

Mark takes out the picture and shakes it before he looks at it. "Cute," he says casually, then he tucks it in his shirt pocket.

"I want to see it," you say. You hope that if you don't acknowledge the warmth in your cheeks, Mark won't either.

"Too bad." He sticks his tongue out at you. And before you can retort, he squats down beside the star. "Okay, let's get a picture of this bad boy."

You squat down too. You match Mark's peace sign and smile in the direction of the lens. The camera clicks.

Nothing comes out. "Shit," Mark mumbles to himself. "I guess I had a lot less film than I thought."

You're about to apologize, feeling like maybe you should've put up a bigger fight when he offered to take your picture.

Mark seems to read your mind. That, or he's just too nice for his own good. He pats his shirt pocket and gives you a generous smile. "Worth it, though."

The sky is getting progressively darker as the two of you walk around, occasionally pointing at places you would've liked to go, had the circumstances been different.

You both eat from snacks you find in a convenience store. You take the rest and leave it in the truck. "What should we do now?" Mark asks.

The light from the store across the street flickers. You look at the neon leaf and then back to Mark. "Have you ever gotten high?"

(Mark has gotten high before, and he tells you so. What he doesn't tell you is that the picture in his pocket is getting heavier as the seconds pass. What he doesn't tell you is that this picture may be the only evidence left of you in a few days. Maybe it will disappear with the rest of them. Mark briefly wonders if a fireproof box would work against the end of the world, and whatever that entails.

He wants to tell you that he would immortalize you in a million different pictures if he could. He would show the dying world a million different ways to breathe again.

Instead, he only nods his head. "Yeah, but it's always fun to do again.")

-

You're positive it's the fact that you've taken one too many hits of whatever joint that weed guy rolled up for you. 'Said it was his best; he was saving it for something special. Since the world is going to hell, he shared it with you.

And now you're in the bed of Mark's van, wrapped in a blanket, staring at the way Mark's lips wrap around the joint. He has a really pretty mouth, you realize, and you want to say it out loud but something heavier takes hold of your chest and you bury it down with all of your other fears and revelations.

Mark coughs. Puffs of smoke blow out into the hot van, and he winces at the smell. "Didn't the guy say this was the special stuff? Why does it still stink?"

You take the joint from him and package it up, hoping to save it for another day (or maybe you just don't want to get so high that you can't focus on Mark's face.)

Mark scrunches his nose and leans back against the cool window of the van. "We should sleep outside tonight. It's too hot in here."

"Under the stars?" you ask. You feel your heartbeat pick up, but it falls just as quickly, and you settle back into the blankets. "Don't wanna move."

"I'll move you," Mark says, a mere whisper against your right side.

You watch him open the trunk. He hops out. "Come on, Y/n. Take my hand."

His hand is warm and calloused and rough and you want to ask him if he can actually play that guitar in the back of his van or if it's just for show. Mark lets you sit on the concrete of the pier. It's warm beneath your skin. Mark parked the van right against the pier, so the two of you could sleep right next to the edge.

While you hang your legs off of the edge, Mark drags the mattress out and pushes it right up to the railing. "Didn't peg you for a stoner."

You grab the blanket he throws at you and lie down on the mattress. "I'm not," you say, no bark to your words. "You're just better at it than me."

"At smoking?" Mark laughs. "I only took one hit. You took, like, four."

"So?" You pout and refuse to return his stare. Instead you try to focus on the stars, and the way their alignments seem off. You wonder if it's the end of the world, or if it's just the weed. "I wish we had more time."

The candor in your voice causes Mark to finally settle down. He lays down. His shoulder brushes against yours, and when his fingers twitch, his knuckles touch yours. It stirs up a gentle longing in your heart. What might be. What never was. You turn to face Mark. "We haven't found your soulmate, yet."

Mark lets out a shaky breath. Something between a gasp and a sigh. He blinks, looks at you like he's indulging, and blinks again. "I don't know if I want to."

(He knows he doesn't want to. Hasn't for a long time now. But your innocent worry has him thinking. Has him wondering how much a soulmate is worth in the end.

He thinks of how you let your guard down when you're high. He thinks of the jolt of electricity that zips down his arm when your fingers touch his. He thinks of your face, so close to his and yet he's so, so afraid of leaning in. Or letting go. Or scaring you away.

Mark doesn't have to find his soulmate. There's no time, and no lead. He thinks that he'd be disappointed anyway.

At the end of all things, he thinks he'd just rather be with you.)

-

"Where'd you even learn how to siphon gas?" you cough. The air is growing thinner. An estimate of three or four days left, and the air is beginning to fall against the atmosphere like a weighted blanket. Ash and dust rise from the ground, and you keep a bandanna around your nose most of the time.

Mark spits gasoline out of his mouth and shoves the nozzle into his van. "Cub Scouts, remember?"

"Who knew Cub Scouts would prepare you for the end of the world." You kick the van's back tire.

Mark lifts his own red bandanna around his mouth. His jeans are scuffed up from the dirt and grime of the gas station, but the fact that he keeps his shirt tucked in and fastened with a belt is more endearing than it needs to be.

"Too bad I never earned my saving-the-world badge, right?" Mark chuckles. A sad silence follows.

You slip into the passenger seat beside Mark and place your hand over his as soon as it's placed on the gear shift. "What did you want to be? Before the news?"

Mark opens his mouth. Then closes it, laughs to himself and shakes his head. "It's stupid."

"It can't be stupid," you say. "Nothing you like is stupid."

Mark's neck flushes red. "I, uh, want to be a rapper."

"Still?" you whisper.

"Is that pathetic? To pretend the world isn't ending?" Mark lets himself glance at you for a solemn moment.

"I don't think so," you say. "If I've learned anything from you at all, Mark Lee, it's that you're full of hope. That's not pathetic at all."

Mark flips his hand over so that your fingers intertwine with his. "Thanks. You, uh... You've taught me a lot of things too."

"Like what?" You lift your feet onto the dash and squeeze Mark's hand.

"I don't want to say right now."

"Okay." You pull his hand into your lap and run your fingertips over his calloused palms. "Hey, I've been meaning to ask you this, but do you play guitar?"

"Yeah," Mark turns down a neighborhood of beach houses. "Remind me to play for you sometime."

(Mark likes the way you touch him first. He likes that you let him hold your hand. He likes that you pull his hand into your lap. He feels so much peace that for a brief moment, he thinks that if the world were to end right now, off-schedule, he'd be okay with it. He doesn't know how to tell you that you're teaching him to be okay with the end. He doesn't know how to tell you that he finds forever in these small moments with you.)

-

Mark takes you to his aunt's empty beach house and the two of you move your stuff in. He finds the solar generator, and the two of you take showers for what seems like the first time in awhile. You don't feel like wearing anything, welcoming the generated AC. But, out of respect for Mark, you adorn undergarments and a large t-shirt stolen from his "clean" suitcase. (He has a "clean" suitcase and a "dirty" suitcase, which is another thing you really admire about Mark.)

When you come out of the shower, towel around your neck, Mark is sitting on the corner of the bed. His own towel has been thrown over the window-side wicker chair, covering a starfish pillow.

What startles you is the fact that he isn't wearing a shirt; only a pair of black sweatpants. A pair of glasses you've never seen before are perched atop his nose. They slip down every time he looks towards the neck of his guitar. He strums out a sour chord and scrunches his nose. "Ah," he shakes his head at the instrument. "She needs a good tuning."

You're drying your hands with your towel, eyes hazy and focused on the way Mark's bare shoulders tense every time he strums a particularly bad chord.

Mark Lee is really pretty. His black hair is still damp, and a few droplets fall onto his cheeks. "Here," you rush out, not wanting another distraction in his favor. "Let me dry your hair. You'll get a cold."

Mark sets the guitar aside and you stand between his legs. "What song should I play for you?" He closes one eye and peers up at you with a close-lipped smile.

You hum. Toss the towel over his face so he won't notice how warm your face is getting. You dry his hair off with a few massages. "What's the one that makes you most happy?"

"I dunno," Mark says. "I like Come Back To Bed."

"Then sing that one to me." You toss the towel to the floor. For a moment, you wonder what it would feel like to run your hand through his hair. After all, you did just dry his hair, which is kind of an intimate thing already. But maybe touching it would be crossing the line. Maybe reaching out to tuck that stray hair back behind his ear would reveal too much. Unravel what you've been trying not to show.

But the world is ending, so it's time to have courage. You swallow your fear and reach out. When you run your fingers through his soft hair, Mark sighs in content. "That feels nice."

"Y-Yeah?" you say, because anything else would come out as a squeak.

Mark's eyes are closed. He leans into your touch and when your hand trails down the side of his face, behind his ear, he places a kiss against your inner wrist. "Yeah," he says, breath hot on your skin. "I'm... I'm glad I went into that convenience store a few days ago."

"Me too." You sense the mood drifting, so you sit beside Mark and pat his guitar. "Now play me something."

Mark nods, a big dazed. He picks up his guitar and begins to sing to you, and you think his voice sounds like the hope of a new dawn.

(Mark wants to bottle up the color of your blushing cheeks and paint the sky. He wants to hold you close to him and kiss you breathless. He wants to say so much more than he does.)

-

Mark makes eggs. You make waffles. They're both a little burnt, but they're made with love, so it's fine. You eat as much as you can, tired of all the convenience store food. "Thank God for your aunt's well-stocked, solar-powered beach house."

Mark giggles. "You know, she was gonna sell it later this year. She wanted to move to the mountains."

"I'm glad she didn't," you say. "This isn't a bad place for... you know."

Mark blinks. Solemnity drowns his face. "She rented a cabin in the mountains. Didn't want to die in the city she was born in. This was the best place I could think of for the end."

"Do you think it will hurt?" You don't want to ask, because it's such a dismal concern. However, you wonder if you're the only one worried about your last moments.

Mark shakes his head. "I think it will be very quick. Like a sneeze."

(Mark wants to say that he's terrified of a slow death. Or dying before you. Of having to watch you die, or leave you alone in this world. He wants to say that he's scared to death and every step feels like a closer one to the grave.

He thinks of telling you, but what difference would it make?)

-

That night after your shower, you find Mark in the kitchen, washing the dishes. "You don't have to do those, you know."

You wrap your arms around Mark's waist, and as soon as you make contact, he shudders. His body slumps against the sink and he hiccups a sob. "I'm scared, Y/n."

"Mark..." you turn him around as gently as you can and pull him into your embrace. "It's okay. It's going to be okay."

"Times almost up," he chokes. "We don't know if it will happen tonight or tomorrow– and I don't want to leave you."

He lifts his head from your shoulder and presses his forehead against yours. It feels a bit like the way a cat might ask for a scratch. But it feels more like Mark wanting to be as close to you as he can. From here, you can see his wide eyes magnified from tears. He sniffs.

You bump your nose against his and shift your hands up to his shoulders. "Mark, I think I love you. I know it's too soon, but we don't really have much time anyways, so I thought I should tell you. I know now isn't a good time, and I'm probably being extremely selfish for saying it while you're crying–"

"You're not," Mark blurts just before he kisses you.

He holds your face in his hands and pulls you against him. His lips are soft and smooth against your chapped ones and you like the way his breathing gets heavier when you reach up and twirl your fingers through his hair. "I love you too."

His hands shift to your waist. He backs you up until you hit the counter's edge. "Jump," he mumbles against your mouth.

You jump onto the counter and wrap your legs around Mark's middle, pulling him flush against you as you go to kiss him again.

He kisses bites your bottom lip and when you gasp at the pain, he leans back to smirk at you. The look on his face makes you want to either slap him or melt into his touch. You choose the latter, leaning back as his lips begin to trail down your jaw. "I don't ever want to let you go."

"Then don't," you say.

(Mark thinks having sex and making love are two different things. He thinks your pink shorts look really pretty against the color of your skin. He thinks of the sounds you make, and the softness of your stomach. He thinks of purple marks on your thighs and the way you say his name like it's worth something. Like it means something. He thinks of looking into your eyes and telling you that he loves you. He thinks of kissing your lips and your neck and your chest and your hips. He thinks of you trembling against him. He thinks of cleaning you up and pulling his hoodie over your tired form. He thinks of kissing your forehead and falling asleep to the sound of your heart.

He thinks of the stain glass picture his aunt has in her kitchen right above the sink. A poem about the sun and the moon. A picture of the two kissing. The words ring like an anthem in his head. He thinks maybe soulmates always find each other in the end.)

-

It happens in the night. You get up to get a drink of water. Your legs are sore but your heart feels warm.

You take small sips in front of the sink and look out of the window. The clouds are dark and red again, but you're distracted by a little hanging picture suctioned to the pane. It's a stain glass picture, painted gaudy blue and gold. You can see the vivid picture of the sun and the moon, fitting against each other like missing puzzle pieces. There's a poem painted in messy scrawl, but you make out the words easily enough.

Tell me what is more beautiful;

The sky seems to get closer.

How the moon lets the sun shine throughout the day.

The air seems to get warmer.

Or the way the sun lets the moon glimmer at night.

The sky darkens, and you close your eyes. You think of Mark alone in the bed and hope he won't wake. You hope he won't know that he has to go alone. You want to run to him, but you know this is nothing but a second on earth, and you're all out of time.

(Mark wakes up when his skin feels like it's scalding. He sits up and notices that you aren't beside him. You're gone, and he knows it's the end, and he knows he'll never see you again, and the thought claws it's way down his throat and breaks his heart from the inside out. And he's all out of time.)

[popculturebuffet]

Donald Duck: Christmas on Bear Mountain Review!

Happy Birthday Uncle Scrooge! Yes it was 73 years ago that everyone’s favorite stingy adventurous billionaire entered this world. And I only NARROWLY missed it as I only found out this was coming up when looking up various character birthdays during the writing of my review of “The Three Cablleros”. I now have a word document with all the various important duck characters birthdays so this doesn’t happen again, but i’m glad I did my homework as I can celebrate one of my faviorite character’s birthdays.  And Scrooge is one of my favorites. While I relate to donald’s everyman slacker spendthrift was a tad more, I still love this old bastard. He’s badass, quick witted, and earned every bit of his fortune square outside of one moment of weakness. But he has his flaws: He’s horribly cheap, quick to anger, and very dismissive and distrustful of people for good reasons and bad. He’s a complicated, interesting character and one that still works today in the reboot.. if with some slight tweaks to make him less of a greedy monster by modern standards. He’s one of my favorite comic book characters, and one of Disney’s finest, so it only felt right to honor him by going back to his roots with his very first appearance and a story that like him is 73 years old today. It’s also one I had never read until today’s review. So does this storied tale still hold up? How diffrent was Scrooge? and are there any actual bears in the story? Well come along with me as we take a trip up to Bear Mountain and find out.  This story, if you didn’t know, is by Disney Legend and Scrooge Creator Carl Barks, easily the most influential and well known duck artist.. felt like it was worth mentioning since without Carl none of this would be possible and as usual his art is gorgeous and unique to him. On with the show. 

We open with Donald and the Boys depressed, as Christmas looks to be pretty drab. While the boys are sad they don’t have a winter Cabin like everyone else...

Donald is even more bummed he can’t afford dinner or presents as he mentions this to the boys, being flat broke. It’s also a nice character beat that Donald, despite his usual hedonism.. would be just fine, with his depression coming from the fact he can’t even give his boys a proper Christmas let alone presents. It’s a stark adult fear and something that really hits as I find the money to buy Christmas presents for all my friends and family during my current unemployment, though commissions, have been helping. 

But yes i’m doing my first Christmas review before thanksgiving’s even come in. But given the serendipity of Scrooge’s birthday and the fact I wanted to read it at some point before covering the last chapter of life and times anyway, since said story takes place DURING this one. I’ll explain how in a moment. Plus frankly with me already having to do my christmas shopping while I have money, I still feel the spirit of the holiday, so I honestly figure why not. 

But all that aside, the Nephews muse things might be better if their rich Uncle Scrooge would remember them, but probably not. We’ll meet scrooge, if you care to continue, after the cut. 

We then cut to Scrooge’s mansion. Two things to note. The first is that he has a mansion here. Now for us Ducktales fans, it’s not unusual, he lives in one in both series. But being even MORE frugal in the comics meant after this he mostly lived in the money bin to save .. well money. So he dosen’t have the mansion after this and Don Rosa explained it, as he did really most aspects of scrooge’s life, in life and times, having him decide to sell the place after also deciding to reopen the bin. Just a neat fun fact. The other fun fact is that his angry pose and expersion here were later homage in “Last Crash of the Sunchaser!”, in one of Ducktales 2017′s easily most heart pulling moments: the ending of the episode showing Scrooge truly alone once again. It’s also a nice refrence to Life and Times as at this point scrooge was just as miserable and alone according to Rosa’s masterwork, with the boys and Donald coming into his life being the thing that revitalized him. So let’s get on that shall we?  Scrooge is wallowing in his misery, having never had any fun according to himself and thinking maybe giving a present could be fun.. and decides on his Nephew as the one to give it to. But in typical Scrooge fashion instead of just giving his Grandson a gift, he’s going to have to earn it. He sends a letter to the Boys and Donald offering up his cabin, fully stocked with goodies and presents. A bit pricey for who Scrooge would become, and a bit odd to see him not complain.. but it still sets up his character as someone who wants people to WORK for what they get, but can genuinely get behind someone who shows good character, in this case he’s hoping, but Doubting, Donald will end up showing himself to be brave. And it’s STILL more plausible he’d buy luxury items to prove a point to himself, than it was in that one Ducktales comic I reviewed where he spent presumably millions to teach a ten year old a lesson about getting everything you want. Which yes really happened. 

Still not over that one, what the actual hell, let’s move on. Basically if Donald passes the test, he’ll get a real true present and if he doesn’t, well Scrooge will have fun anyway. It is easy to see the difference in character here: While parts that would later become bedrock, his code of honor and his wanting people to EARN things instead of just having them handed to them, as well as him sometimes being a huge dick about that are there, he comes off more as a golden age villain cackling in his lair than the awesome but flawed adventurer we’d all come to know and love. I mean while he’d be no less kind to the Boys and Donald about their poverty later, this time he’s especailly bad tempting them with a nice christmas they couldn’t afford and planning to scare the bejeezus out of them. But I do like seeeing where Scrooge came from, STARTING as a decrepit old bastard and transitioning into the adventurous old bastard we all know and love. I have come to realize I do have a soft spot for characters earlier appearances, seeing what changed, what was there all along, and what was tweaked. It can be a mixed bag: with Marvel for instance sometimes you get Spider-Man, who was starkly anti-social and on the verge of understandably lashing out at the world a LOT in the first few issues, and prone to issues you wouldn’t see in a superhero comic back then. Hulk started out much smarter, greyer and meaner, eventually leading to the Joe Fixit persona being created as a result of this decades later. 

On the other hand some examples are less enjoyable like Sue and Reed Richards, who back at the start were a sexist “panicky female” stereotype and a sexist mentally distant jackass, while Hank Pym and Wasp were again, a sexist mentally distant jackass, and another stereotype this time thinking almost entirely about fashion and boys. All four would go on to be MUCH better characters with age, with the occasional slip up. I bring this up because Scrooge... is still a good character even here. While he’d become even BETTER, he’s not bad at all here, just a bit different is all. 

Back at the plot Scrooge reveals his plan by scaring the shit out of his butler: To dress up as a bear, head up the mountain and scare his nephews to see if any of them have any bravery. While Donald whimpers over the thought of bears and we get an okay gag of him thinking a squireel was one, Scrooge is forced to turn around due to the weather and gives a villain monologue about never having given anyone nothing in his entire life. I swear to god he’s basically Mr. Burns in this one. 

Then again I would also FULLY expect Scrooge to do this to Donald in the barks stories, just maybe not have it be lethal. MAYBE. 

While Scrooge harumphs over his bad luck the boys and Donald enjoy a wonderful sleep. Despite Donald’s fear of bears, which the boys insist are hibernating, accurate, the boys force him to go out and get a Christmas tree by the age old tradition of whining until he does so. After going out back to find a tree to chop down Donald finds dead, ugly looking tree that’s weirdly heavy. To no one’s suprise, and to Donald’s natural luck, there’s a baby bear inside and as Donald gets a nice Christmas eve dinner ready for the boys, though after hearing some rustling he assumes a bear is present.. which it is. A baby bear. Awww. The little guy toddles around, and we get af ew pages of antics, with the boys chasing the bear, donald being a coward, and the bear getting into things and ending up on a rollerskate, which is referenced in life and times. However while the boys eventually find the baby.. it’s MOTHER, angry it’s cub is missing finds them and once Donald finds her, the four naturally hightale it out of there. The bears then eat all their food.. though the boys assume “there goes our presents”. Uh guys.. the presents aren’t gone you just don’t have them right this second. They aren’t showed destroying them or anything just leaning on them slightly. I mean the well stocked pantry and any candy in the presents are toast but there’s still a pretty sweet saxaphone there. Take a look. 

See the most their doing is likely wrinkling some clothes, at worst flattening that skateboard.. or whatever that  Mama Bear is sitting on. I mean I get in the larger sense they can’t get them because bears, but still. Once they pass out the boys send in Donald to get ripped apart by a bear.. er to tie up Mama Bear so they can get the house back, rightly pointing out that they’ll freeze to death anyways.. even though they you know have a car and could just leave. Then again knowing Donald’s luck i’td probably jsut lead to this. 

The boys aren’t slacking though and are going after the cub while Donald passes out in fear next to the bear. Scrooge arrives, but is spooked by the cub and is proud to see his young nephews valiantly chase the bebe, and is impressed by Donald’s seeming bravery, decides, after fleeing in terror which is funny. Not in line with what he’d become but STILL really funny. But anyways he decides to throw them a proper christmas as a reward.  So the next day and, thanks to Don Rosa one part of life and times later, we end on Christmas Day as for the first time in decades, Scrooge basks in the warm glow of family, and is happy probably for the first time in years. He gifts Donald a bear skin, he faints, haw haw haw the end. 

FINAL THOUGHTS: This story holds up extrodinarly well. While some aspects like Scrooge being generous or cowardly don’t jibe with his later character, it’s forgivable since, again, first appearance, and it’s an entertaining story. Granted his plan hasn’t aged well, but it’s still a fun Christmas set story with some good gags and an entertaining villian. While not Scrooge or Donald or Barks finest hour, it’s still a good bit of hollday fun that gave us one of the best characters of all time. And for that, ill be forever greatful.  If you liked this review, you can comission one of your own via my ask box, direct message or discord (technicolormuk#6550), if your more comfortable not doing buisness on here. UPCOMING REVIEWS TO KEEP AN EYE ON THIS SPACE FOR Loud House Coverage: Band Together/ The Other One Ducktales: The First Adventure! Ride of the Three Cablleros: The Three Cablleros Ride Again! 

Until then you can check my backlog on my various pages and remember, there’s always another rainbow. 

[lia-jones]

Growing Together - Chapter Two - No Monkey Business

Victor was awakened by the soft rays of morning sunshine that entered their bedroom through the huge windows. It had been a while since he had slept so long and so much. Since they arrived in  Bali three days ago, they had done nothing but sleep, eat, explore their intimacy and take the occasional dive in the swimming pool. They hadn't even unpacked, since there was no need for clothes. The only thing Victor would put on would be his robe, when he opened the door to the bellhop that brought their meals. During the past few days it was just them and their naked bodies, drowning in their senses, drinking from their love and lust.

If someone told Victor a year ago that he would spend a great part of a week in the nude, disregarding work and doing nothing but having sex and recharging for more sex, he would think they were insane. But if he was to be truly honest, he didn't mind the current situation at all. In fact, he wondered if they could replicate it back at home, maybe one day a week. He had everything he needed and truly enjoyed: good wine, good food, extraordinary weather, and Andrea in his arms, undistracted from the ordeals of the world. Past him would think he would have died of boredom, just laying around doing nothing, but he happily spent his time counting her eyelashes while she slept, or running his fingers gently over her soft skin, making her sigh in her slumber.

Victor was amazed at how much one can discover when sharing stillness with a loved one. They spent nights talking about the most varied things, telling stories of their lives before the other, laughing, drinking and playing, or simply enjoying the view holding hands, sharing a smile or a stolen glance, as they heard the ocean waves crash in the distance. Bali had been an excellent choice for a honeymoon destination. Nature brought in them the peace to fully focus on each other, and they had all the privacy in the world, acting on their hearts contentment.

He rolled over in bed, trying to find her warmth, only to find her place empty. Victor found it rather odd that he hadn’t awakened when she left; he had always been a light sleeper, and his protective instinct would jolt him awake if Andrea moved a little bit out of the ordinary. That's how Victor realized how peaceful he had been for these few days: he was becoming a heavy sleeper. Lifting his head a bit, he looked around through the tulle curtains on the bed, trying to find his loved one. The sound of water splashing outside made him look in that direction, and there he found her, in all her naked glory, swimming in their private infinity pool. That was all the motivation he needed to peel himself off the bed.

"Well, good morning, handsome." She swam to the edge of the pool, noticing him arrive.

"I missed you in bed." He kneeled in front of her, lowering his head for a kiss.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to wake you. You were sleeping so soundly." Her hand ran across his naked chest, the coolness of the water making him shiver slightly.

“You’re wet.” He complained. “I’m going to order breakfast, are you in the mood for something in particular?”

“Just that awesome coffee.” She relaxed her body in the water, making it float. “The rest is up to you.”

“Do a few more laps.” He teased, leaving with a kiss on her forehead. “That’s not a bathtub, you know.”

He couldn’t hear clearly what she said, but he still chuckled, picturing how cute she must have looked all riled up due to his nagging. He ordered a full breakfast with the thing he knew she liked, pancakes, sunny side up eggs, and the local fruits.

“Do you want to go to the monkey cemetery today?” Andrea asked as she happily ate her breakfast.

“Sanctuary.” Victor corrected.

“God, why do I keep saying that?” She sipped her coffee. “Weird.”

“I’m starting to fear for the monkeys.” He joked.

“You’re hilarious.” She threw him a napkin that he easily avoided, chuckling. “I was reading about it earlier, it sounds really mystical. They have three temples of worship there, including one for Shiva. It’s too bad we can’t get in.”

“Since when do you care for Hindu religion?” Victor frowned. “Or any religion at all? Or Shiva?”

“Do you want to go or not?” She pressed, unwilling to reveal her reasons.

“Get ready.” He got up. “I’m asking the resort for a tour guide.”

The tour guide dropped them by the two large stones statues at the entrance of the Ubud Sacred Monkey Forest, but not before making some important recommendations: never look the monkeys in the eye as they may become aggressive, avoid sudden movements if the monkey goes to one’s lap, and never try to pry things out of the monkey’s hands, even if its a personal item. However, Andrea didn’t care much about the monkeys, her interest focused more on the religious culture of the place, and Victor allowed himself to relax a little, knowing that his wife wasn’t interested in trying to pet them.

They walked into the deep of the Forest for a while, monkeys jumping from tree to tree over their heads, until they reached the temple of Shiva. Andrea, who had been extremely talkative the whole time, grew unexpectedly quiet, lost in thought. She sat on a rock, her gaze lost on that temple, as Victor sat in front of her, rummaging his backpack for a water bottle.

“Care to explain the sudden fascination with Shiva?” He asked, uncapping and handing her the bottle.

“Shiva is the god of destruction and renovation.” She simply stated, like it was self-explanatory.

“So?” Victor frowned, annoyed at how vague Andrea could be sometimes.

“Two years ago, I was a completely different person than I am now. I was a fragile woman, recovering from abuse, trying to find my place and purpose in this life. Daniel did more than beat me, he beat me down. He left me for dead, helpless and hopeless. Look where I am now. I am strong and assertive. I built myself a career, got married. I don’t fear life any more.” She paused, turning her gaze from the temple to her husband. “If you knew that some specific god might have aided in such a transformation, wouldn’t you want to thank him?”

“So now you believe in Shiva?”

“I believe that I have changed, for the better. I believe there was indeed a transformation, a renovation of sorts. And I am thankful. To whoever I should be thankful for.” She took a swig of her water, lost in thought again.

“Don’t be too hasty giving all the credit to Shiva. In all fairness, you always had those qualities.” Victor offered with a smile. “Perhaps only now you see them in yourself.”

Immediately, Victor felt something tug the back of his polo, making him freeze. Something was climbing his back. It didn’t take long for him to figure out it was a monkey.

“Don’t move.” Andrea whispered with a smile, watching him closely. “I think you made a new friend.”

Much to Victor’s dismay, this monkey did not come alone. Soon enough, he had three monkeys trying to climb him, tugging the fabric of his pants and his polo, trying to find some food.

“Wow, look at that!” She laughed. “It’s like you are covered in monkey catnip!”

Victor sighed, exasperated.

“Don’t ask me how this happens.” He tilted his head back, trying to avoid getting a monkey’s ass rubbing on his face. “Same happens with cats, I can’t figure out why.” Victor motioned to get up in an attempt to make them leave, but Andrea stopped him.

“No, wait.” She reached for her phone in the pocket of her cargo shorts. “Let me take a picture. I just need to turn this on.”

Victor waited patiently for her to turn on the device, shuddering when the monkey that rested on his shoulder inserted the tip of his tail into his ear.

“You have ten seconds before I get up and shake them off.” Victor warned, disgusted.

But apparently, Andrea was not worried about the picture anymore. She paled slightly, tapping furiously on the screen.

“I have fifteen text messages from Olive asking me to call her back.” She looked at him. “What do you think she wants?”

Before Victor had the chance to answer, one of the monkeys decided that Andrea’s phone was far more interesting than his lap and jumped to the spot next to her, trying to take the phone from her hand.

“What are you doing? No.” She frowned at the cub, taking the phone back absentmindedly. “You can’t have this, it’s not yours.”

Victor’s heart stopped for a moment, expecting a reaction from the animal, but none came. The little monkey scurried away and Victor sighed, getting up slowly, his careful eyes on the monkeys jumping to the ground.

“Put that thing away.” He softly scolded. “You really need to mind your actions he-”

“Aaaaahhh!” Andrea screamed in pain, and Victor turned to her. Apparently, that little monkey’s mother was nearby and jumped from behind her, sinking her teeth in Andrea’s shoulder.

“Don’t move!” Victor ran to her, taking a closer look at her injury, which was now bleeding profusely. “Wait. Let me wash it.”

He emptied the remainder of water in his bottle on Andrea’s shoulder, but to little effect to her wound, that kept stubbornly oozing blood.

“We need to get you to the infirmary.” He stated, frantic, taking Andrea in his arms and bolting to the exit, where the infirmary was located.

“Victor, I can walk! You can put me down, it’s not that bad!” He heard her call.

Even though Victor could hear her voice, he was in no condition to listen. His own heartbeat pounded heavily on his ears as he ran, his mind reeling as he furiously pondered the setbacks and possible solutions of the situation he was facing.

They had received inoculation before the trip, but he foolishly forgot to confirm if rabies was included in the pack, leaving it all in his physician’s hands. There was no way to guarantee that the monkey wasn’t infected, with that or some other disease. Untreated, rabies could kill someone in merely weeks, and Bali was a third world country, with an extremely poor healthcare system, so a vaccine could well not be readily available. And even if Andrea wasn’t infected with rabies, the wound was deep enough and the bleeding considerably profuse to hint damage at a major artery, taking mere minutes for Andrea to bleed to death, which rose the exact same problem as before: they were not in Loveland, where the best doctors were just a phone call away. He would have to get a plane as soon as possible to fly them back, at the risk of becoming a widower right on their honeymoon.

“Victor! Andrea!” He heard the tour guide running towards. “Shit, she got bit?”

“She needs help, she’s bleeding a lot!” Victor took a quick look at her shoulder and back, now drenched with blood, dripping to his arm.

“Come, get in the car, I know a clinic nearby where she can get treated.” The guide led them to the jeep, opening the front passenger door. Victor sat Andrea as the guide opened a water bottle, pouring more water on her wound. He sighed in relief. At least the bleeding had finally stopped.

“See?” He heard his wife’s gentle voice. “I’m ok, it’s not even bleeding anymore. Relax.”

Without a word, and despite Andrea’s protests, Victor unceremoniously transferred her to the back seat and sat beside her, a protective hand around her waist, his other pressing on her wound with some cloth the guide provided, as his lips rested on her temple, wishing it would bring her some comfort. As for him, he would relax when he saw his wife completely safe from harm.

Andrea talked to him the whole way to the clinic, trying to calm him down, but nothing could quiet his worried mind. They weren’t supposed to leave the hotel, maybe only for the occasional stroll, but never take a car and drive for an hour towards the forest. Bali was indeed a paradise, and they went there to enjoy some of the culture, but their intent was to relax, not to venture away.

The clinic looked nice and clean, although very far from Victor’s standards. The doctor carefully analyzed the bite mark, disinfecting it properly. The doctor concluded the wound itself was not dangerous, and certainly not as deep as it looked, and administered a vaccine for rabies. In less than ten minutes they were back in the car, with the recommendation for a lot of rest and fluids, since the vaccine would apparently do more danger than the bite. However, even after the doctor had deemed Andrea would heal properly in the next couple of days, Victor would not be satisfied until the resort physician examined her too.

By the time the doctor left their room with the very same recommendations, Andrea was exhausted. And Victor was worried. And furious.

“I told you it was not that bad.” Andrea tried to appease him, as she laid down on their bed, him sitting beside her. “You were worried for nothing.”

Victor scoffed, but didn’t say a word. He felt the roaring fire of anger inside him, and he was trying his best to keep it in.

“Are you upset?” She spoke again, reaching for his arm. He got up, avoiding her touch. “Victor…”

“I should’ve known better and just stayed in.” He shook his head, feeling his ears grow warmer. “I should’ve known you’d be reckless and do something foolish.”

“Wait.” Her voice was slightly angry, taking offense at his words. “How is this my fault?”

“We had clear instructions.” Victor turned to her and lifted his hand, enumerating the instructions with a show of fingers. “Not to make sudden movements, not to take things from the monkeys, not to make eye contact. You disrespected all three!” His voice became slightly more aggressive, and part of him felt bad for it, but she had been careless. She needed to hear it. “You risked your life out there, and the only reason we are here now is because you got lucky! And for what , Andrea? To read some texts you shouldn’t even be reading in the first place? It’s our honeymoon! Can’t you let go of work even now?”

Victor braced for her angry comeback, but the comeback never came. She simply looked at him with sad eyes, and dove deeper under the comforter.

“You are right, I am sorry, I got distracted.” Her voice was weak and defeated, and that hurt Victor more than any furious retort. “I didn’t reply to any of the texts, and I don’t intend to. I’m sorry I ruined our honeymoon.”

That last sentence was the final slap, the one that ended the discussion. Victor was still furious, but now he was the target of his own rage. At a loss for words, he simply left the room, closing the door behind him, leaving her to rest.

Of course she didn’t mean to get hurt. She was startled by the large incoming of messages, and forgot her surroundings. Besides, one can never predict behavior towards a wild animal. She acted out of instinct.

Regretfully, Victor had been extremely unforgiving towards her. It was rather incomprehensible how he was usually so good and putting aside his feelings when making decisions, while with Andrea he simply couldn’t do it. His heart spoke louder every time, jumbling his thoughts and clouding his judgment, and no matter how hard he would try, it would always get the best of him. Victor sighed and poured himself some whiskey from the bar, hoping it would relax him and clear his mind. Sadly, it was to no avail. The only thing that could soothe him was to know Andrea did not resent him.

After a while, he decided to order dinner, making sure he included his wife’s favorite dishes. After the food arrived and he set the table, he went to the room to wake her up, touching her forehead gently to check her temperature. She slowly opened her eyes and gazed at him sleepily, a neutral expression on her face, instead of the loving one she had for him. Although she didn’t seem to be angry, she was probably still upset.

“Dinner is served.” His hand rested softly on her shoulder, assessing her reaction. “Does it still hurt?”

“No, I mean, It’s a bit tender, but... I’m alright.” She answered with a soft voice, her tone indicating she was open for communication. “It doesn’t hurt that much.”

Andrea got up slowly with his loving hand helping her. He looked into her eyes, the ones that always gave him so much comfort. Without much thought, Victor pulled her into a hug, his silent apology. She hugged him back, leaning her head on his chest.

“Andrea…” He needed to apologize for being so rude. If only there were words that matched his feelings. He simply couldn’t find them.

“I know the man I married.” She smiled at him. “He may be sometimes harsh, and despite his rational ways, he can blow things way out of proportion, but I know he has a good heart, and he means well. I know he loves me and he cares.” She softly brushed his bangs with her fingers. “And I love and care for him too.”

Victor smiled at the love of his life, finally allowing himself to relax. She was safe, and she was his. And it dawned on him that’s exactly what a happy marriage is supposed to be like. Not perfect, but loving, even when one of them shows his ugly side.

“Maybe the monkeys heard me call that place a cemetery, and thought I wanted to kill them all.” She turned to him with a smirk. “They are not taking any monkey business.”

Victor glared at her, unamused.

“Too soon?” She grimaced.

“I’m the one who almost had a heart attack with your monkey business.” He pulled her closer. “So, yes, too soon.”

Victor held Andrea tenderly, feeling grateful for having her safe in his arms. He wondered if there were any deities watching for her at the moment she was hurt and thanked them for the protection. Just in case.

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 9- Burnt Parchment

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

A brief respite for the hermits, they all take the time to rest, train, and learn more. While Xisuma digs through the libraries for information on dark magic, Stress discovers an unnerving note far from home.

____________________________________

Xisuma hums to himself, fingers running along the books. Old leather soft and emblazoned with gilded letters, sharp parchment of scrolls cutting into his skin with new vigor. All kinds of books and tomes and tablets, collected among Joe’s library. It’s a well cared for collection, and Joe prides himself on all the knowledge stowed in his home. 

The only problem is how he sorts his books. Most librarians would use one of many systems developed by scholars, perhaps by genre or author’s last name. But no, Joe used his own strange system, a madness to his method. No matter what the other hermits do to fix his insanity among the stacks, he only shuffles it back. And Xisuma is stuck reading through the strange collection their resident poet has amassed. He blinks away as he reads something he’d rather not, and pulls free an aged scroll, adding it to the collection in his hands. 

Xisuma steps back, turning. His eyes fall across the large black lacquered cabinet settled in the corner of the poet’s home. Distant from everything else, even the azure blue bed that’s covered in half-written poems and spells. Cold metal brushes against X’s fingers as he unconsciously touches the wrought iron key. “Dark magic has to be somewhere in there.” 

He reluctantly opens the banned book cabinet. Joe isn’t a person to ban books just for being controversial. In fact, the poet loves to bring books other libraries wouldn’t dare hold. Knowledge that should be spoken, kept safe. Illegal works against the Council, exposes on guilds, lost history no longer taught in schools. If their island in the Ashioll sea was a sanctuary to the illegal guild, this library was a sanctuary to illegal words. 

But even some knowledge is dangerous in the wrong hands. And if there’s anything X could call dark magic, it’s dangerous in any hand. Only one book among the darkened oak shelves gives him any hint to it’s contents including dark magic. A book about ancient magic. Why is this with the taboo tomes? Xisuma stands, tucking his armful of books close to his chest and donning his mask back on to face the sunlight.

Xisuma is a void wizard. He spends his days staring into the darkness of space, learning from the motions of dark matter and the void between stars. When others look to the light to discover truth, he can see everything beyond space and time, warped by the light others seek. X’s fingers run across a fractured part of his helmet. Where an insignia of a sun surrounded by spiraling void was dented out of existence. He can just barely feel the sharp triangular points of his brother’s symbol nowadays. 

He pulls the mask over his head, and braves the sunshine of his island home. In the distance, he can hear yelling, followed by the sharp clang of metal. The ground rumbles, and out of the corner of X’s vision he sees pillars of stone spire free from the grass. False and Scar are dueling, and Xisuma notices silver coins being passed between TFC and Cub. An easy smile appears beneath X’s mask. TFC was never one to stay holed up in the infirmary long. He’s still pale and weak from the crystal attack, but nothing would stop the guildmaster from being with his family. So long as he’s not using his magic, Xisuma won’t stop him. 

The fading black veins up TFC’s arm reminds Xisuma why he’s researching dark magic. After what happened to their guildmaster, their leader and father figure, Xisuma needs to know why it happened. And how to stop it from hurting any of his family. Ever again. Dirt crunches under his boots as Xisuma walks to the stone tower he calls home. The oldest structure, the first part of the island built up. When him and his brother fled into the mysterious sea, setting up the Order of Hermits. Fitting name, seeing as they’re the only ones brave enough- or stupid enough- to call the odd archapelago home. 

“Sheshwammy!” Keralis’s voice runs across the air like honey, but the magnitude of his voice causes Xisuma to jolt in his boots. A scroll drops, falling open and rolling across the dirt. Xisuma groans, tucking his chin to chase after the runaway parchment. Keralis aids him, scooping up the scroll and tightening the paper around the wooden rod. “Whatcha got there? A little bit of light reading?” 

“I wouldn’t call dark magic ‘light reading’.” Xisuma chuckles, plucking the scroll handed across from him. Keralis’s expression is quite alarmed. 

“Dark magic? Like spooky scary attacking crystal dark magic?” Keralis peers at the books in Xisuma’s hand. “Why are you trying to learn dark magic?”

“I’m not trying to learn it- I’m trying to learn about it. So...so things that happened in Gildara don’t ever happen here. Don’t ever happen to our island.” Keralis nods, nudging Xisuma’s shoulder to show it was all in jest. And the void mage feels like he can breathe. 

“Are you going to hole up in that tower of yours then?” Keralis watches X’s eyes through his visor, the crossed scars over his left eye. “Sheshwammy, come, let’s have some tea in my house! Soak in the sun, it’s good for you!” 

Keralis waves Xisuma to the glass hemisphere, tall grass and undergrowth flourishing in the massive terrarium. A single tree props up the glass from within, and a beehive thick with honey sits like fruit hung low from the tree. Black flecks buzz around among the terrarium, denizens of bugs flying in their habitat. To and from their food and wherever they make home within Keralis’s terrarium. When Keralis first showcased his magic to Xisuma, he admits he was freaked out. To gain magic by consuming bugs seemed...strange. But over time, it was no different than Joe’s poetry magic or Tango’s hellbound spells.

“Hello Suzy. How’s the hive today?” Keralis giggles, giving the fuzzy bee a pat. X stops at the door, watching Keralis file away some of his magical treats for later. “I was just coming to grab some more beetles before fighting Cleo, but this gives me an excuse to not face her now.” 

Xisuma sits down among the grass, the tall blades bending outward like a nest. Green and grey robes spread out, and Xisuma sets his pile of books on Keralis’s green bed. Keralis places a cup of tea in his hand, his friend remembering exactly how much sugar, honey, and milk he likes in his tea. Xisuma’s shoulders untense, remembering why he wanted a guild in the first place.

They weren’t just a team. They were family. They have each other. He’s not the only one worrying about TFC, others are taking good care of him. And they take good care of each other, including X. Xisuma swirls the spoon in his tea, blowing on the steaming drink and raising his head to feel the sun filter through the glass dome. His brother always wanted a family like this, but sometimes the sun shines too bright even for those who rely on it’s light. Every time Xisuma feels the warm rays on his brown hair, he thinks of his brother. 

But he always chases the thoughts out. That wimp left, ran away when things finally started to become real. Xisuma pulls the book on the top of the stack and forces it open. He flips to the page about magic law and illegal magic. 

Keralis peeks over Xisuma’s shoulder, trying to follow the insane speed the void wizard reads at. He doesn’t catch everything he sees, or understands most of what he reads, but the pages do reference the words he fears to be true. “Do you really think someone is practicing dark magic?” 

“I’m sure it’s dark magic. You saw how those husk people acted.” Xisuma picks up a book discarded to the side, pointing to a single paragraph. Hardly more than a line references the process of magic. “Dark magic is illegal for a reason- it steals power, killing the person who it’s stolen from. But none of these books talk about how it happens. There’s no mention of crystals, or the entire land devoid of life. A grey wasteland.” 

“What about this book?” Keralis sits in the grass, pulling up a massive, ancient leather book. “Plirus Mageia.” The bug mage opens the book, dust spouting free of the yellow, torn pages and causing Keralis to cough. 

“Well, it says it’s complete, but does that really mean…” Keralis grins as he discovers dark magic listed in the index, flipping to the page. It’s Xisuma’s turn to peer over Keralis’s shoulder, watching the ancient pages flipping forward, deft fingers searching for the page number listed.  Until they go past it. Keralis frowns, and flips back. And misses again. One by one, they look through the book. All that remains of the chapter on dark magic is ash, pouring into Keralis’s lap when he tips the book forward. “Someone doesn’t want dark magic to get out.” 

“Or someone doesn’t want anyone to know their secret.” Keralis whispers. 

-------------------------------------------

Stress packs the snow tight, pressing rosy pink lips onto the forehead of the snowman. One hand has her icy magic circle pressing against the torso. A little kiss like that sends magic surging through the white snow, each crystal and snowflake imbued with her power. The stone eyes blink and bluster against it’s cold body, and stick arms wiggle to life. “There you go lovely! Go explore! Watch out fer the edge!” 

Stress giggles as the snowman wanders across her icy island home. Just offshore of Eremita, she built her igloo under the cooling respite of an eternal snowcloud. She sits back, closing her eyes and feeling the chill touch of snowflakes falling on her pale cheeks. The cold water tickles her skin, clinging to the warm, fluffy grey fuzz that keeps her comfortable. She loves the cold, because it means she can cozy up in her warm robes, fluffy boots, and thick pants. She doesn’t have to worry about her hair being too long at her neck, or if she has too many blankets- which is never enough in her opinion. She’s known as a blanket thief, and it takes bribery to get them back. 

Snow crunches, the fresh layer depressing onto the white powder beneath it. Stress peeks open her eyes, and notices her new snow friend is waving for her attention, rock mouth mute to call for her. Rigid sticks flap back and forth, until the snowman knows it has her attention. It points a wooden finger down to the icy waters around her island. 

“What is that doin’ here?” Stress questions, standing up. She brushes the snow from her rear, watching the tiny boat rock against the ice chunks. She can only imagine if these enchanted sailboats had little itty bitty sailors, they’d look like massive icebergs, just before a frozen continent at the bow. “I thought these didn’t leave the cities.” 

Stress scoops up the wooden boat, fingers running along the smoldering fabric sail. The edges turn to ash upon her touch, embers eating further into the sail and smoking the wooden ship. It’s in bad shape, and Stress can’t figure out how such a little ship meant for messaging within a city made its way out here. Why is it burned?

She remembers the contents of the boat, pulling off a glove to squeeze her finger into the thin deck. Sure enough, a scroll was being carried by the scorched ship. The snowman at her side reaches for the boat, like a child desiring a toy. It’s wish is granted, Stress ignoring the boat in lieu of opening the parchment. 

It’s burned as well, and whatever edges aren’t black and charred are torn and tattered. On the backside, Stress can see printed letters torn through. It reminds her of when she went to school in Milliara, among the other noble children learning how to be good heirs, passing notes on torn sheets of their notebooks. The twine falls apart in her hand, allowing the burnt parchment to open. 

Stress gasps, letting the letter fall to the snow. She runs to the icy edge of her snowstorm, but the ice rises to meet her feet. Walking across frozen water beneath her shoes, until she’s on solid ground again. She doesn’t slow, doesn’t hesitate. She needs to tell the others what was on the paper. 

The parchment, burnt and soaked with snow, flutters in the warm Ashioll sea air. Blood for ink scrawls out two words. 

HELP DANES

[fuwafuwamedb]

Cursed G Pt 32 (Hakuno, Gilgamesh, Enkidu, Humbaba)

Previous Part:

1 (HakuPOV / GilPOV), 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 

11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20,

 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31

___

Things had grown peaceful in the kingdom of Uruk.

The marriage wasn’t even a major note to his time. He held the whole affair in a few hours’ time, keeping Hakuno on the palace steps as he had planned. They poured the perfumed waters over her, brushing back her hair and allowing him his way.

He found himself curling up against her at night, peppering her in attention as she fell asleep in his arms.

Each night, he found himself pulling tablet after tablet from her hands, telling her to rest and finding that her hands would attempt to grasp those tablets a little longer.

“Let me finish my work.”

“You’re not reading with your eyes closed, you fool. Don’t lie to your king about working.”

The sticking out of her tongue earned her long punishments of his mouth slammed against hers, stealing away his own pleasures from her. Her small whimpers in response, when she gave them, earned her soft touches and low murmurs. In the span of a couple months, they had it down to routines she would break apart.

Just when he thought she would only whimper or throw him attitude, she began to set her tablets aside and climb into his arms more.

Those brown eyes looked up at him in his bed and he found himself pulled beneath her.

He’d been preparing to kill that goddess for attacking what was his. He had been so prepared for severing her head from her shoulders, tossing her head to the god, Enlil and laughing forever and a day about it.

Enkidu was helping him to prepare for the fights to come, they had gone to the Cedar Forest just the other week to look at the perspective slaughter of the fool who held dominion there.

They’d seen the destruction of the bodies of warriors who had gone up against the beast. They knew Humbaba would be quite the foe to defeat.

However, he found himself still turning back and crawling back into bed with Hakuno. He still found himself nipping along her stomach and up to her lips, stealing those for himself instead. He could feel her squirm beneath his touch, her small smile pathetically effective.

Time had come and gone, leaving him with a rounded woman in his bed and a strange restlessness in his spirit. He could feel that something was off with every fiber of his being, but he couldn’t tell what that something was. At times, he found find his attention waning in the audience chamber, his lions curling around him as he sought to understand what was causing this strange feeling within him.

Perhaps it was the lack of war.

Now that he was thinking about it, he had not gone so long without a war or squabble to win. Typically, there would be disputes in relation to perspective wives for him or there would be debates over how to handle the situation of kingdom tensions. His solution had always been more along the lines of being proactive.

“Enkidu.”

The being glanced over to him.

“I think it’s time we go defeat Humbaba, don’t you think?”

The responding smile was all he needed for that. Gilgamesh called forth for Siduri and the advisors, beginning the long list of what would be needed in his absence. Hakuno was still new to their world, still accustoming herself to their language and to the culture. Siduri would be helpful, but he would ensure that the advisors held themselves properly as mouthpieces for the two women in his absence.

Enkidu was practically lounging by the time he was done, their hands teasing at one of the lion cubs and squishing toe beans.

“Enkidu? Are we going or not?”

The being raised a brow at him.

“What?”

“You’re not telling Hakuno of these plans?”

Why would he need to do such a thing as that?

The woman had heard about his thoughts for the Cedar Forest. She’d babbled on about the monster and about her world, to which he had politely stopped listening by admiring the way their child was slightly kicking at her stomach. His child was growing well enough. It wouldn’t be long now.

“Gil… Actually, I’m going to pretend I didn’t ask.” The being shook their head at him and straightened their robes. “So we’re leaving now?”

“We’ll grab food from the kitchens and set off.”

It was easier to simply be gone a few days and then return to Hakuno.

He’d found she was amorous after he did that during the days. He would go to the audience chamber or to the kingdom districts, finding her baubles from time to time and returning only after the sun had set. She would lay there in the center of the bed, her brown hair brushed out and her body bare to his eyes.

There’d be a tongue lashing, which would often lead to grumbling when he laughed or to other things her tongue could do when he decided to humor her.

A couple days away would earn him more than simple chastising though, she’d be all but clawing at him to climb into their bed. She’d have that narrowed gaze and those bright, focused gaze that seared him straight to the soul. He’d probably find himself ridden to the point of exhaustion, bitten and sucked on enough to sport a collection of jewelry in the form of love marks.

The kitchen boys asked him of fear for the beast.

“You do not know how my Hakuno can get when I return late to her bedside. A beast like Humbaba is merely a child in comparison.”

They moved out into the night, weapons strapped to their backs and food safely tucked away.

The winds blew hard at them as they left the kingdom gates, the lights of the palace illuminating the darkness until the hills came between them. They rode the horses that they had taken until the horses could no longer walk.

The hours of the day became longer, the sun scorching at their skin.

The night hours became hauntingly quiet, leaving the sounds of the animals to sound like the shouting of forlorn lovers.

He could feel that sense of foreboding building as they marched across the lands, their skin beginning to crawl with every rainfall and dry with every morning’s mounting heat. There was something wrong with their actions, but there was no time to back down now.

Words had been given.

They were expected dead or with a dead body in arms.

Still…

“Something is wrong,” Gilgamesh found himself telling the being nearby.

“Oh?” The being snickered a little, leaning back on their fallen log and regarding him for a moment. “Are you sure it isn’t just because you’re used to having Hakuno around to cuddle up against?”

“I’m being serious, Enkidu.”

“I am as well.”

The being motioned him back to the campfire, leaning against his side.

“You’re used to her. I’m sure it’s just being away that’s strange.”

“Oh?”

“Well, that and maybe the fact that we’re going to kill that monster attacking people and then utilize these trees for something useful.” Enkidu shrugged. “Just keep a few up to regrow. I want to see the monkeys again when I take your son out to go hunting.”

“Don’t you mean when ‘we’ take my son hunting?”

“Hmm? Oh! Oh. You think Hakuno will let you live after this. That’s so funny. Oh, I’ll tell that joke to little Nanna when he’s out of his ummum. ‘Your father, Gilgamesh, told me this great joke about being able to take you hunting, but failed to realize that he’s been being haunted by some magic that’s been tugging at his person.”

He shoved at the fool. “Enkidu!”

“It’s nothing! Don’t worry about it, Gil. I’m sure she’ll probably get over it after making you her footrest for a few days-“

“We’re bringing her back the beast’s head.”

“UM! GIL! Maybe let’s get her a nice necklace-“

He would bring Humbaba’s head on a stake for her. When she saw it, he’d be in the clear from this magic nonsense. This was for the safety of the people and her.

It was also a way to get more resources for expanding Uruk.

The thought of her being mad didn’t lessen with that plan. Instead, he found himself pacing, his mood darkening further as Enkidu ate at their hunted down food.

“She has no right to be upset,” Gilgamesh growled.

“You left without saying goodbye.”

“Hakuno is fully aware of her duties as my queen. She knows that she will have times where I leave without informing her. The kingdom and safety of our people-“

Enkidu’s look stilled his words.

He glared back at them, but he couldn’t find that train of thought anymore. Whatever he’d been going on about, he knew he was right. Hakuno was no doubt exaggerating the whole ordeal. No doubt it was due to being very heavily pregnant with his son. Or daughter, but he rather doubted that his first child by Hakuno would be a girl.

They set quietly now, the two of them.

He could no more grasp words than he could eat his full fill of the meal. He had Enkidu enjoy themselves before laying down to rest.

Perhaps he should have said goodbye for the time being.

Hakuno was new to their culture. Despite learning of him and learning what life was like for the Uruk people, she knew so very little. There was only so much one could learn about a culture in the span of a couple months.

Had she slept without him around before?

Now that he was thinking about it, he wasn’t sure she’d ever been without him at her side at night. Normally, she lost herself in his embrace before resting.

The head of Humbaba and perhaps a lion cub.

The forest was filled with wildlife. Finding a few more pets for the palace would be a simple matter. Enkidu could help tame the thing before he presented them to Hakuno.

She’d forgive him because he would leave her with no other choice.

After all, her heart was encased and immersed in love for him. All she would be able to do is revel further in her devotion to him.

“Enkidu.”

He nudged the being now, finding that dawn’s light had come to the forest early.

Their feet pattered across the grassy floor of the forest, surpassing snakes and beasts to head for the dark center of this wooded city. They found the beast atop one of the highest cliffsides, its arms ripping and tearing at the body of what had to be one of the acclaimed fighters from the kingdom of Ur.

Their hands took to the rocks, tugging and pulling themselves up the side of the cliffs. He could feel the spurts of red as they came tumbling down the side. They could hear the inhuman sounds of the beast in the distance as it raged and destroyed at the bodies it had collected.

“The head is mine,” Gilgamesh told Enkidu simply.

The lifted themselves up the last of the distance and lunged.

Things felt right.

His blade sang in the air. His adrenaline was pounding in his ears, his eyes focused on blow after blow. He could see Enkidu using the chains to hold the beast back, but they were having their hands full as well. The being knew how to work with a handicap like the chains.

Humbaba gripped the golden chains in hand, swinging Enkidu wildly as Gilgamesh went after them. When he struck a blow, it was only with the beast slamming him with another rainfall of attacks and blows to block or dodge. He could taste blood on his lips. He could see the sun in two places. His senses were ringing or perhaps it was just the sound cutting out on him.

Those piercing eyes looked into his and he saw nothing but a beast to hunt.

This beast stood in the way of going home, of returning to his bed and his woman. He could feel something stab at him, his side piercing with a sudden explosion of warmth and stinging pain, but he didn’t look down.

Drawing in a breath, he opened his eyes and swung fast.

Enkidu had taken the moment to yank on the chains that held themselves to Humbaba’s grasp, yanking the mighty forest protector down. Rather than a blow to the arm, Gilgamesh felt his blade hit the beast’s neck, sliding straight through them with the sickliest sound of death he had ever heard.

The beast trembled, holding at the space where its head once stood. They could see the head rolling off into the grass, a fountain of crimson spilling into the air, coloring at the deep blue skies that hung overhead.

And, with an echoing banging, the beast fell.

Humbaba was dead.

Gilgamesh panted, looking to Enkidu.

“…Gil…Gil!”

Enkidu rushed forward, clambering around the chains and wrapping their arms around him. Their eyes widened at whatever they thought they were seeing.

“Stay with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere, you fool. Grab the head for Hakuno. Let’s go home.”

The being shouted, but he couldn’t hear them well. The pain was worsening. It was a bit hard to concentrate right now.

He wasn’t even sure what was happening, but there was a blur of motion around him whenever he opened his eyes. He could feel the movement of someone running, but he could also feel his conquered foe’s head in his arms.

Hakuno needed this for forgiving him. He’d left her all alone in the ziggurat, lost in his time without him. He would take a few days from the audience chamber and spend them coaxing her into her proper state.

She was like the lionesses after their mate would vanish for too long.

Ah, but she would stay at his side.

That was at least something he could count on.

“We must take him to the temple of Ishtar! She can heal-“

“The goddess would kill him,” Enkidu’s voice growled.

“There are no temples other than hers close to the forest,” another voice argued. “Whatever his qualms may be, he needs healing or he will die. The beast struck him with a deadly poison-“

“Find an apsu!” Enkidu insisted.

Was he dying?

Truly?

It didn’t make sense to die so easily. He was the great king, after all. He had an heir on the way and he had a kingdom of people to rule over. There was no time for him to close his eyes and rest. He had to rise up and he had to walk home. He could take his horse once they returned to the beasts and the selection of soldiers that they’d left the two beasts with.

“He won’t make it to Uruk,” the other voices insisted. “Being of Enki, please… He must go to Ishtar.”

Gilgamesh forced his eyes open, glancing up at his general. The soldiers weren’t far off, already beginning the deforestation of the Cedar Forest.

The moment he returned his gaze to the general, he spat on him.

“Take me to my queen.”

He’d never left Hakuno’s side for long as a cat. He would not do so as a man. 

The goddess, Ishtar, could burn in Ereshkigal’s fires for all he cared.