#and the yellow top... its fated

[cowes]

two bad bitches doing insane, evil shit the night they died.

[savrr]

Arjuna . Dhanañjaya (धनञ्जय) – one who conquered wealth and gold .

[sock-kaleidoscope]

OMG I MEANT TO POST THIS AGES AGO

au spoilers under cut (chap 2/3)

[moonlight-prose]

a request, if i may, of praising old man logan as he filfthly eats you out and it makes him combust the more you praise him? okay running away again

speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life

a/n: look at him taking off his glasses in absolute shock of this ask- no okay does old man logan have a praise kink? i would raise it higher and say every version of logan has a massive praise kink. this is a man who wants to know he's doing good in life. his love language is acts of service so he might get to hear a pretty thank you. also i'm not sorry for how feral this got. i have no explanation.

summary: he knew he loved you when your words begin to piece his heart back together. he knew he loved you when he flourishes at your praise. he knew he loved you when nothing in this world could matter but the sound of your voice telling him you love him too.

word count: 3k+

pairing: old man!logan x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, oral (f receiving), praise kink, logan is obsessed, dirty talk via reader, he is so pretty when he blushes, manhandling, cumplay, cumeating, overstimulation, crying, he's needy in this one, angst, tortured soul of an old man, reverence, religious trauma + greek mythology hints.

He can feel the strings of fate pull tight around his broken heart. In a failed attempt to draw him back together. To piece together an organ that barely beat for him anymore. He might have felt it once, before it broke. Before it gnarled itself like the branches of a dying tree, one half twisting away from the other in a desperate attempt of survival.

He deemed it a useless part of his body until you came along. You with your smile that held enough cloying sweetness to choke him as he stood helpless. Silently begging for you to say his name. To bring him back to life.

Whatever horrors that plagued his mind—endless nightmares that promised nothing but anguish—suddenly came crashing to a halt at the sight of you. So pretty in your denim jeans and velvet top. An angel seated in the center of a bar that held more filth than you deserved to be near. Logan couldn’t fathom that luck struck him this hard.

Not when death had already claimed his soul; notched yet another tally in the endless wall of people that came before.

He felt the dirt pack under his nails as he clawed his way out of the grave he put himself in. Years spent alone—a man lost to the ravages of time—had turned him bitter. With rough edges and biting words that stung far more than he intended. How could he believe he deserved to live after he contributed so much to the endless pool of blood that tainted his soul? How was he allowed such softness after biting off bits of brutality his whole life?

Logan was pretty sure he survived on borrowed time that had already run out. He could feel death breathe down his neck as the days went on. A reminder that what little of his life remained would be spent suffering. And he found that accepting it was easier than battling against the will of God, or whoever toyed with his lifeline.

It was far easier to die than find a reason to live.

Until you said his name.

Softly. Sweetly. Reverence wrapped in a tight grasp of need.

You brought him back from the edge—took his hand and refused to take no for an answer. You and the safety of your touch; the promise in your kiss. You dragged him into a life he didn’t earn; one that almost tasted too sweet—too sour.

After near a decade of being buried beneath the dirt, he felt himself collapse above ground and suck in his first real gasp of fresh air. Alive, once more. Hell spit him out with a vow of love and who was he to argue against it.

His fingers dug into your plush thighs, tugging them open to see what lay between. He marveled at their softness, eyes wide and awestruck at the sight of you spread beneath him. You practically glowed in the dim light of the bedside table. Yellow, musty, yet angelic when it caressed your body with its heavenly touch.

He wondered if this was real life; your nails digging sharply into his shoulders gave him the answer.

"Logan," you sighed, voice high with need.

The strings pulled taught. A vice like hold that drew him to you.

Maybe that's what this unutterable feeling was. The gnawing pit at the bottom of his heart. A greed he'd never indulged before—too afraid of what it might ask for next. He wasn't a man who asked for much. Rather someone that found himself far too content with nothing. But tonight he found his lips forming the words of a false prayer that his mother taught him as a child.

Hail the angel in his bed. Hail every good fucking thing you brought into his life.

His teeth sunk into your thigh, body jolting at your responding moan. Fingers dug into his hair, tugging at the mussed locks with a high pitched whine. You were a needy little thing, but Logan found he desperately wanted to be needed.

He smiled laving his tongue over the tender spot, working his way up to where you dripped for him.

So slick. So perfect.

Saliva filled his mouth. "What do ya want baby?"

Your chest heaved; he could feel the heat of your body under his palms. "Your m-mouth Logan."

His eyes trailed along your brow covered in a sheen of sweat. The room was thick with the humid air of the outside world. But that didn't deter him from craving your skin near his. The pressure of your thighs around his head a welcome weight. If he sunk his teeth in where the curve of your leg met your hip he knew he could draw out that soft choking noise he longed to hear on days spent driving alone.

If he had his way he'd crawl into you to seek your serenity straight from the source. He'd never divulge about the ache that chewed him up on the inside, but Logan wondered if you knew. Could you tell how much he craved you? How much he couldn't live without you.

When your glittering eyes met his, the resolve he spent years building cracked like glass. You peered into him as if he was a stained glass window. A god you were more than happy to worship.

"You want me to lick this pretty pussy?" Fuck, he sounded drunk off your taste already.

His mouth hovered over your throbbing clit, your scent now filling his senses. Overwhelming him with what he wanted most. But he needed to hear it. The lilt of your begging; the soft echo of your need that washed over him like soothing river water.

He couldn't live without it.

"Yes," you sobbed, thigh twitching.

The string sliced his heart open, blood pooling onto the white bed sheets. Oh what a sweet death your love made. Oh...what a bittersweet way to go.

He'd die right now if you asked him to. Hand over his heart on a silver platter if you so wished it. Maybe that made him far too gone for his own good, but Logan couldn't remember a time in his life where he got this. Safety. The hope of love burning far too bright and far too hot for him to fly near it.

Yet there he was. Icarus happily soaring in your sun like glow.

"I got ya honey," he murmured. "Gonna take care of what's mine."

You nodded frantically—tears welling up in your eyes. "You take care of me Logan."

The breath in his chest stuttered, eyes dark as the words fell past your swollen lips. He wanted to explain why his cock twitched against his stomach. Why he now leaked into the sheet with heavy panted breaths. But every time he came up short with the words needed to form an answer.

"Yeah I do sweetheart," he breathed. "Don't I?"

"Uh-huh."

"Take care of what belongs to me."

There was no warning when his hands dragged you closer with a rough tug, mouth closing over your clit with a desperate suck. A cry wrenched from your mouth, sparks sharply traveling down your spine. He licked through your slick with a growl. Hands an unbreakable press against your thighs.

The sight of your body bowed, mouth open for small gasped breaths that never came, snapped something in his mind. He was an old man. Well past his years. But the taste of your pussy along his tongue brought back a ferocity he often tamped down in his younger age. He felt the feral want claw at his chest, and answered it with a broken snarl.

Swallowing down every drop you gave him, he plunged his tongue into your entrance, thrusting messily until a smear of your shiny slick began to coat his mouth. It covered his cheeks and clung to the hair of his beard. He'd clean it out later, taste you on his tongue until he was aching for another go. But for now he was preoccupied with the way you cried for him.

"Oh fuck!" Your thighs trembled over his shoulders, hips canting down to drag yourself along his tongue. "So good."

He shuddered, eyes rolling back at the sound of your praise. You caught it within seconds, lips pulling into a breathless smile that left him gasping for air. His teeth nipped at your thigh briefly as his hips ground into the mattress below.

"You like that baby?" you breathed, thumb smearing your own slick against his cheek.

Something hot washed over his body. A needy sick and twisted ache that he'd never indulged in before. He wanted to be a good man to you; longed to be needed. And fuck if you didn't give him everything.

You were his walking wet dream. His future handed off and wrapped in a neat little bow.

"L-Love your tongue Logan-" A high gasp tore from your throat when he dived back in. Slurping at your clit with a heady moan as you dragged him closer. "Taking care of me so well."

His hips canted down into the bed, fucking his cock along the warmth of his stomach, as you gushed into his mouth again. Eyes zeroed in on your face, pupils dilated as he growled into your flesh. You no longer could see the man you loved, but the feral side he tamped down during the day. The animal he longed to release in your presence.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum."

His arms looped around your thighs and with a sharp yank, he had his face buried deep enough to suffocate himself. You sobbed an incoherent version of his name. Nails clawed at his shoulders, but Logan could feel the pulse of your clit under his tongue.

He sucked it into his mouth with a grunt, rolling it along his tongue as you trembled with the oncoming shocks of an orgasm that threatened to destroy you.

Tears dripped down your cheeks and Logan felt the satisfying part of his heart begin to stitch itself back together. The strings were tight enough to numb his pain. To quell the flare of agony.

That used to be all he knew, all he counted on most days. When there was nothing left and he'd propped the shovel in the dirt—his grave open and waiting—he stumbled right into your arms. He found his reason for living.

Heat curled around his spine as you shook with the impending orgasm—the stimulation on your clit practically debilitating. He grunted into your soaked flesh, eyes narrowed as he chased the release that pulled his stomach taut. But this wasn't for him to indulge in; this wasn't his pleasure.

So with a throaty moan you felt reverberate along your body, he scraped his teeth along your clit and watched as your body went stiff.

"Logan!" you cried, fingers scrambling for purchase on any part of him you could reach.

You gushed into his awaiting mouth, praises of it's so good, you're so good falling upon his ears like the whimpered prayers of a devout worshiper thanking your god.

"Taste so fuckin' good," he mumbled, drunk on what you gave him.

He didn't care that you were jolting with each pass of his tongue along your pussy. He didn't care that you were shocked with overstimulation, small broken cries of his name muffled by the press of your thighs against his ears. He licked at you until he couldn't breathe. Buried his tongue into your twitching entrance and sucked out your cum with a happy hum.

"P-Please." You tugged at his hair, pulling him off you with a sob. "I-I can't anymore Logan."

"'M not fuckin' finished," he said, eyes glazed and face coated in your slick.

You made a mess of his face. The light catching along where you spilled into his mouth and along his throat. And still he wanted more. He'd spend hours between your thighs, burning your skin with his beard, if it meant he could divulge in your sweetness.

"It hurts-"

A grunt rumbled in his chest, his arms tugging you back even as your feet kicked along his back. "Just one more honey. Yeah?"

You shook your head. "B-But-"

"Thought you said it was good."

"It is."

"Then lemme be good for you." He wanted to tell you that the world went quiet between your thighs. That all his grief, all his pain, lessened when you sobbed his name.

He wanted to show you the string that looped his heart to yours—the only thing keeping him alive—and thank you for bringing him back from the dead. But words weren't his forte. Violence had become the only tenderness he knew and you didn't deserve the rough edges of an old man. You should have more.

But when you let him touch you like this—caress your skin and lick between your folds—he felt as if he was a man who finally was worthy of someone as precious as you. He could pretend he didn't bear the brunt of a fucked up soul.

The weight on his chest lifted when your tear filled gaze met his and you nodded. Small, barely there, but it was enough for him to seal his mouth back over you with a ragged moan. Your body shook as his tongue slid through the seam of your pussy. The tip nudging against your clit—careful to draw the pleasure from your body slowly.

He didn't want to give you pain. His heart wouldn't survive that. But he was a broken man; someone who begged for more even as his teeth sunk into what was already given.

You were his meal. His sacrament in the midnight hours until dawn broke across the darkened sky. You were the other half of his soul.

How could he not indulge in your sweetened tang until his tongue went stiff?

"I love you," you sighed, eyes rolled back when he sucked at your pussy, a wet low moan echoing in the air. "My p-perfect husband."

The cold press of his wedding band against your thigh drove him over the edge. You weren't officially married. Didn't have the backyard wedding with a preacher to match. But Logan had placed a ring on your finger near a year ago, sliding one over his own with the vow of forever cemented in his words.

Even if that didn't mean much in the eyes of a god who abandoned him near a century ago.

"Oh-"

Your head tipped back, mouth dropping open as his fingers dipped into your wet heat. Thrusting lazily until he found the spongey patch along your walls—driving the pad of his middle finger into it with a needy moan.

He knew it wouldn't take long for you to fly off the edge of a second release. That didn't make watching you climb to that peak any less satisfying. The sight appeased his soul. It gave him a chance to breathe; let him know that after so much bad—after so much pain—he could do something good. He could bring you to the edge of pleasure and drag you over again and again.

He could finally be the man you believed he was.

Not the animal they created.

"C'mon," he muttered. Eyes fixed on the shape of your breasts as your body curved off the bed. Hips dragging along his face with a stunted cry.

A wail bounced off the walls, piercing his eardrums with the symphony of your cries. His fingers rapidly pumped into you with a squelch that had heat burning his cheeks—lips pulling your throbbing clit into his mouth as you broke. The climax slammed into you; battering your already swollen pussy.

Logan could feel his cock swell at the sight.

"Fuckin' perfect," he grunted, teeth bared as he clambered to his knees and wrapped his fist soaked in your slick around his leaking cock. "'M gonna cum sweetheart."

Your eyes fluttered open, fingers digging into his thigh. "Please. Wanna see it baby. Look so pretty when you cum Logan."

His chest tightened, body shaking while you watched in rapture as he fucked his fist rapidly. He wouldn't fucking last, could feel the burning consume his body, but something held him back. The string around his heart yanked him away from the edge, tearing a cry from his throat when his frustration peaked.

You could see it—the glimmer of need in his dark eyes. This wasn't the first time he longed for your words. It certainly wouldn't be the last.

So you spread your legs and sat up slowly—arms wrapping around his shoulders to bring his lips down to yours. A soft moan was muffled by your mouth; the peak of his release within reach. He could practically feel the tips of his fingers graze it.

"Cover my pussy baby," you mumbled into his mouth. "Be good for me and mark what's yours."

The growl came from the very bottom of his chest when he finally came. Your name was a bitten out snarl pressed to your mouth in an open mouth kiss as he spurted over his knuckles. He pumped his cock to milk every drop; eyes fixed on the way it covered the swollen lips of your pussy. Dripping down to your entrance that fluttered at the sight of his sweaty and crimson tinged face.

"I fuckin' love ya honey," he murmured, hand cupping your chin to drag your lips back to his. "Best thing that's happened in my life is you."

You smiled, thumbs pressing to his cheeks. "Love you too Logan."

Clutching you close, he felt the string go loose. The breath finally rushing back into his lungs at the sight of your eyes glowing with the kind of light that brought him back to the first day The night he met you in that shitty bar—alcohol the only thing on his mind until he saw you.

The night you spoke his name over his covered grave and dragged him back to life with a smile.

[youryanderedaddy]

Summary: You're a princess locked in a tower and guarded by a big, scary dragon. But is he as scary as it seems? tw: female reader, deceit, manipulation, murder (not reader), stockholm syndrome(?) My ko - fi <3

As the youngest princess, you'd always known you would end up like this. In some far off land with little to your name other than some jewels, stuck in a tower just like your mother had been before she got married to a foreign lord, and finally allowed to re-join society. It was such a cliche it was funny at first, but now you just felt like screaming at the top of your lungs from boredom.

At first you didn't feel the unknown presence. The tall man was lurking in the shadows, as if part of the ancient building. You could smell the herbs in the air around him - the minthy fragrance trailing long after he had retired to his chambers. Then little by little you started to recognise him - in certain shades of sunlight, in the back of mirrors, in the tiny lizards crawling at the corners of the stone walls. But nothing could prepare you for that first morning when you saw him - really saw him.

You had woken up early, startled by noise reminiscent of that a bird makes during flight - but multiplied tenfold. You had looked through the window with a weak, fluttering heart. And then you saw his true form - massive yellow wings covered in what looked like pure gold burning brightly in the sky. Long, hard body made of sun - kissed flakes; so sharp they could be used as arrows. And a thin, curled tail drawing circles around your tower.

One of his empty moonlit eyes turned towards you, and it was all over. He immediately dissapeared into thin air, the only evidence of his existence being miles of thick gray smoke. But you weren't going to let the only living creature around run away so easily.

"I saw you!" You screamed long before you could even begin thinking of proper etiquette. Ladylike behavior be damned, you were dying of loneliness in this stupid tower. "Please..." You begged, voice hoarse and desperate from weeks of forced silence. "Come here." You continued ruefully, playing with your hair, chest riddled with anxiety - after all you hadn't spoken to a human being in so long.

You heard a long, almost pained sigh, which made you turn around. You were greeted by a tall brooding figure. It wore the face of a man, but its long golden hair and broad, muscular shoulders pointed to something a lot less human and a lot more devine. He must have been twice your size - trully intimating in all his shining glory. Even in his human form his skin seemed to glow just like his sharp almond - shaped black orbs, constricted in his yellow pupils.

"I'm always here, Your Highness." You remember his exact words simply because you were taken aback by how soft his voice was - just like fine silk. It wasn't the voice of a dragon, but the voice of an angel. "You just never see me." He added with what you then assumed was a hint of playfulness, but now recognised as annoyance. With that he leaned against the wall, crossing his hands together.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Many months passed since that fateful day. You slowly got to know your new companion - or perhaps, guardian. You learnt that many called him Cain after the fallen son* - once a strong soldier of the Lohemian Kingdom, his injuries had made it impossible to keep fighting. That's how your father found him - abandoned by his brothers, lying in a mudded puddle of his own blood. The rest was history.

He didn't speak very much - but he never left your questions unanswered.

"Cain..." You'd call out with practised uncertainty. Even so far removed from your peers, you still couldn't escape the twisted societal ideals of propriety. You could never be too eager to speak to a man - even if he wasn't fully human. "Is that your real name?" You wondered, genuinely curious. You slowly looked away from the book you were holding and towards your friend, the book long forgotten. The dragon was sitting in the other corner of the room. Despite all the time you had spent together so far, he was still hesitant to come near you. There was a certain stiffness in his strong shoulders - as well as his jaw.

"Princess..." The man mumbled softly, your heart aching by the sheer tenderness of the term. Usually you'd pay it no mind as it was your right from birth, your title - but titles didn't matter here. There was no place for status or riches between those four intimate walls that always felt small despite the spacious squares. "Don't you know curiousity got the cat's tongue?" He responded with a crooked smile that didn't quite reach his eyes - even his smiles were serious and stoic.

"You have it all wrong." You huffed, standing up from your comfortable chair just to make a big, dramatic gesture with your hands. "It's curiosity killed the cat." You stated confidently, waving your finger at the dragon. He let out a soundless chuckle and averted his gaze away from you. He still couldn't get over the fact that you weren't afraid of him.

"Whatever my Princess says, goes." Cain teased, eyes narrowing further - now they looked like two pitch black slits. He tuck one disobedient lock of gold behind his pointy ear, making the glass beads of his earring jingle in tone. "Just don't say I didn't warn you." He whispered with slight condescension, toying with the dancing little crystals. "My name is Kaajin, if you must know. I doubt you can spell it. It's in Lohemian." He suddenly stared at you as if in a challenge. "Does this change anything? Anything at all."

You shook your head - of course no. There was little your protector could do to make your feelings change; not when you had been so terribly alone without him. Not when he looked at you as if you were precious - breakable, yet precious.

************************************************************************

The days went by slowly. There was nothing there to help pass the time - just your voice and his voice blending together in the echo of the tower. Again and again and again.

"Entertain me." You asked authoritatively, looking at your friend from down below while you were sitting on the ground. You were bored - so very bored. "I don't remember ever signing up to be your personal jester, my Princess." Cain, no, Kaajin replied succinctly, showing off two pointy fangs - and you couldn't help recalling the story of the Sleeping Beauty and the spindle that sent her into deep, eternal slubmer. You wondered how his teeth would feel against your finger - and your throat. Whether they'd tire you or save you with the kiss of true love.

"Please?" You asked sweetly, just the way he liked - just like you had done that cold winter day in December when you first met face to face. It seemed to work, because soon after that you could feel him move through the room with a tired step - ever so dramatic, closing in on you. "Sure." The dragon breathed in your ear, enjoying the way the flesh quickly reddened with emotion. He reached behind the sensitive shell and slowly waved his fingers just short of your nose. In his hand just milimeters from you was hanging a thin silver chain with a little red rose dangling down. "Here. Have fun." He let it slip past his slender fingers and you swiftly reached to catch it before it could break in thousand pieces.

"What am I supposed to do with it?" You asked, puzzled - still looking at the delicate bracelet and the way it seemed to come alive under direct sunlight. "I am not a child." You suddenly puffed, stuffing it into the pocket of your long skirts. Kaajin only clicked his tongue, gently tugging at your wrist until you took it out of your pocket. "Don't be so ungrateful." His strict yet plush voice took you out of your little outburst, and you finally looked up. His eyes were measuring you up, scanning for any hidden movement - any secret emotion. "I am a dragon, remember? We tend to be awfuly protective of our things."

Your eyes filled with curiosity once again. "You mean your jewels?" He nodded rhytmically, trying to keep his composure at the mention of his old, forgotten customs. "I've read some stories about dragon kings stealing piles of golden coins and locking them away for all eternity. "You chuckled to yourself. "Like they could ever use them." Even after all those years you still found the thought amusing. Humans spent their youth slaving away so they could waste the money gained once they were old and wise. Dragons, on the other hand, were satisfied with holding onto wealth and jewels and all those shiny human things - with little understanding of the subejctive value they held in the human world.

"Yes. It's true indeed. Dragons-" Your guard nodded yet again, now somewhat uneasy. "We take good care of our..." He averted his eyes far away from you. "treasures." He finished stiffly, gaze basically burning the ground. "So you shouldn't take my gift lightly. You should wear it with pride. And perhaps in time you'd find another use for it, too." The man explained, a slight blush spreading across his usually high, cold cheeks.

You smiled gingerly, kissing your fingers around the chain before pressing it to your chest - close to your heart.

"I shall cherish it forever, then." You exclaimed, feeling warm inside. You were uncertain as to why, but your stomach was spinning wildly, as if filled with bubbles. "But you still owe me some fun." You giggled, running to start the old phonograph in the corner of the room. It was your favourite thing in the whole world - which didn't mean a lot up here, but it was enough to make your legs move on their own.

As you danced to Vaarlen's famous spring waltz, the air seemed lighter and the cramped hall just slightly more grandiose. It was easier to breathe. You extended your hand towards your dragon, asking him to join.

"You know I don't dance, princess." He grunted, his mood souring. He never told you why he hated it so much, but the man was never too fond of music. Still, you decided to try again. "Oh, come on. Just this once." He didn't seem convinced. "Let me teach you as a thank you gift. I'm serious." You tapped your chest playfully. The man rolled his eyes, then gently took your hand in his. You almost broke into a giddy giggle - for the first time since your family locked you up in the rotten tower you felt happy.

And he always gave into you.

So you two danced, both lost to the music and your own racing thoughts. Kaajin kept his distance, but his hold was strong onto your wrist - unrelenting, like he never wanted to let go. Your body twisted and turned, perfectly synced to the chords, blind to the pass of time. You only realized it had become evening once your back hit the window - it was dark outside. Yet another day gone. Yet another day lost.

"Kaajin..." You could feel the tears burning at your wet lashes before you could stop yourself. You had promised yourself not to think about it anymore - not today, or ever for that matter, but it was impossible once you were faced with the Creator of All. The Master of everything, of everyone - time. How could you ever pretend otherwise?

"Do you think-" You bit the inside of your cheek, your hands fighting the guilt as you let go of his. "Do you think my father would ever let me go into the outside world?"

The guard gulped dry, taking a step back to give you space.

"I-" He took a deep breath, gaining the courage to look at you. "I don't know. The war is still going. Your kingdom has lost many brave men and women. Even the strongest soldiers are starting to capitulate." He couldn't bear to look at your pretty face all messed up by the pain and sorrow, but it was for the best.

"I understand." You muttered, turning your back to him - curling back into yourself. You felt his arms wrap around you, and you remained quiet - neither fighting it, nor embracing it. "Don't cry, my princess." The man whispered. "No matter what happens, I will always be by your side." He meant it. You knew it by now, and that only made it all the more tragic. "I swear on my life." You believed him, you had no reason not to - he was the only one you had left.

As for your father, he couldn't really give a proper order now, Kaajin thought. After all, dead men tell no tales.

[slytherizz]

Playing God - Auror!Sebastian x Dark!MC

Tags/Warnings: 18+ | Non-Con | explicit sexual content | Dark!MC | Polyjuice Sex

All tags can be found on Ao3

Word count: 6.4k

Summary: Decorated Auror, Sebastian Sallow had not anticipated how his life would diverge so sharply from the woman he once loved, the most wanted and notorious witch in Britain. Or how their paths would continue to cross - their fates still bound together.

A/N This fic has been living in my WIPs for about 6 months...I wanted to reverse the dynamic of my longer fic with Sebastian being the Auror this time and in doing such explore some darker themes. Short multi-chapter that will probably end up being three chapters at most.

She was pretty enough he supposed in a homely sort of way. 

Petite, with neat shoulder-length hair that brushed against narrow shoulders and, a soft bow to her overly thin top lip. But her dress was old-fashioned, a severe high-neck buttoned almost to her chin, ruffled layers of her underskirts impractical and lumpy. Layers upon layers, of an unflattering shade of yellow washed out her otherwise pleasant features. 

Compared to the other witches that would frequent such a seedy establishment with their low necklines and light skirts, she would be considered dowdy. 

If it wasn't for her eyes. Keen and alert as if beneath the sheep-like exterior lurked something dangerous. He most likely would have overlooked her too.

To even the keenest observer it wouldn't look like Sebastian had any particular tastes when it came to women or men. Much to his displeasure, the qualities that drew him in were rarely mere aesthetic. 

Barked laughter like an ill-tempered hound. The smell of mallowsweet. Aromatic and earthy. Teeth pressed lightly into a bottom lip like they held all the cards in a game no one else knew they were playing. Until they spread the winning hand. Smile so wide it unnerved, bore too many teeth.

Tonight, it was keen and dangerous eyes that reminded him of her. 

They shared no other similarities and from what Sebastian could discern from her well-manicured nails, and unblemished skin, bar a pale line around her finger where he supposed an engagement ring would usually sit - this was no fighter. 

This was a proper young lady - who had wandered onto the wrong side of town looking for a sensible amount of trouble as her wedding day, most likely to some equally wellbred suitor, loomed over her like a dark cloud.

As if Sebastian were screaming his thoughts at her across the crowded tavern, those sharp eyes flicked their attention to him. Raked over the thinning patches of his civilian cloak, the shadow across his jaw, the dark circles under his eyes he'd given up glamouring. After years they were as much a staple of his face as the freckles on his nose. 

The marks of a man who hadn't enough time to shave let alone visit a tailor, a man who would scarcely have enough time to ask her too many intrusive questions. 

She smiled. Jarring was the only way Sebastian could describe how her face seemed to split horizontally across its centre. Neither half quite belonged to the other. The demure and polite curl of her lips was offset by the razor-edged scrutiny of her darkened gaze. Predatory. Hungry. In a way that made his mouth go dry and cool sweat beads on the back of his neck.

Ice clinked against the side of his glass as Sebastian knocked back the remaining dregs of whiskey. Disguising the way his lip twitched at the corners under the weight of her eyes. Amber liquid burned his throat was nothing compared to the heat prickling across his skin.

Sebastian held up two fingers to indicate to the Barmaid over the raucous patrons of the pub. She placed a second glass on the bar filling them both with a more than generous pour. 

"Cheers," Sebastian said, placing the coins into her hand, a little extra for her trouble as he always did. The barmaid smiled brightly, flushed and preening, over a few extra sickles as if he'd declared some great love for her. Though he supposed generosity was not a trait of many that frequented the Ogre's Arms. She leaned a little further over the bar than was strictly necessary, her fingers linger too long against his palm as he hands over his sickles. 

Sebastian did not miss the way that the strangers' eyes tracked the interaction. As swift and deliberately as he had been trained to be with every motion, he slipped his hand from the barmaid's grasp deftly hooking his fingers into the rim of the grotesquely full tumblers as he spun on his heels.

Whatever the poor girl had been about to say faltered in her throat. Crackling out of life like a dying gramophone. He really should have felt some sympathy for the poor girl. 

She'd made her fondness for him quite obvious over the years. Despite how Sebastian would sidle out the door with what must seem like any witch but her. Too worried about any kind of arrangement that would ask for more than he was willing, or able, to give. Nor did he wish to find a new hole to drown himself in. 

And regretfully - her gentle honeyed voice and hopeful doe eyes that delivered longing glances had never stirred anything inside of Sebastian. As much as on some nights he wished they would. 

Sebastian weaved through the sparse gathering around the bar of the more rambunctious patrons. Turning a blind eye, to the corner booth and the two witches poorly disguising their face under their dramatic hoods, exchanging money, a rather suspicious-looking sack at their feet which gave a periodic shudder and what looked like spines protruding from the burlap. It may be his job to investigate suspicious behaviour such as this but- he'd rather not have to explain to his sergeant exactly what he was doing in this pub in the first place.

Approaching her solitary table nestled in the corner, she inclined her chin up towards him. Smug. Sloped oak beams cast a thick shadow, and candlelight flickering against her cheekbones made her features waxy like an oil painting against a grimy canvas. 

"May I?"

She tilted her head, as though she expected nothing else but was amused by his gesture nonetheless."Only because you brought a bribe." 

Sebastian hooked the heel of his boot around the chair leg pulling out further. Placed the two glasses on the table as he sat, careful not to spill any against the oak surface. Not that it would be such a shame if it did. Cheap whiskey from a smudged glass was hardly a waste. 

Sebastian tipped his glass to her in toast, she did not feign even the slightest interest in her glass or his hollow act of chivalry. 

"I haven't seen you here before," Sebastian said. 

Flexing her fingers, she admired those well-polished nails. "No. I don't suppose you would have."

West Country. Quaint. As out of place amongst the sea of London accents as her dress was from this decade. Confirming a very important fact for Sebastian she was certainly not from around here. For the best. 

"This doesn't seem like the place for such a nice young lady such as yourself."

Chin resting on the back of her delicate hand. A feline grin spread across her face, as she lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Nor the place for well respected Ministry men." 

Tension seized Sebastian's shoulders. Unnerved by her perception, his eyes darted across the sea of faces. He'd left the scarlet cloak with the gold badge adorning his lapels in his flat long before he'd made apparated to the bottom of Knockturn Alley. Places like these didn't take too kindly to rozzers scrambling their clientele. Nor would he want it to become common knowledge at the Ministry that he frequented grimy drinking holes on his off hours. He was certain she'd been alone but that prickle of unease had his hand reaching towards his wand.  

She caught his arm swiftly, delicate fingers folded up the cuff of his cloak. Ministry insignia branded into the tan leather strap that secured his wand to his forearm. 

Chuckling breathily to himself, Sebastian felt the tension ebb as, just as swiftly, she turned down the sleeve. "Half the people here carry their wand tucked up their sleeve. You have a keen eye, to have spotted that mark from halfway across the room, lass. Do you make it a habit of checking if every man who approaches you is an Auror?"

Sharp eyes glinted with mischief. "Only the ones that interest me."

"Must be my lucky day." He leaned in closer, bitter whiskey breath disturbed a loose curl around her ear as he whispered. "Unless there's a reason you have to be on such high alert for authority I should know about?"

"Do I look like the kind of woman who would have much trouble with the law?"

He cast his eyes down, at her unblemished hands. Free of callouses and scar tissue, the tight restrictiveness of her bodice ill-suited for battle, her polite disarming smile - even those eyes, so reminiscent but not quite right. Despising the remorseful pang in his chest. Nothing like her. 

"Well if that's the case this," he gestured around the damp crooked hole masquerading as a tavern. "Certainly isn't the place for you." 

"Nor you. Unless the requirements for holding such an esteemed post has gone severely downhill and they let swindlers and murderers into their ranks." He almost winced at the sting of the insult she unwittingly delivered. 

"Perhaps lurking around in dingey bars with terrible whiskey isn't suited to either of us. Perhaps, upstanding members of society that we are, should go somewhere we can feel more…relaxed."

"And where exactly is there such a place for me?" Most women would have covered that glaring tan line on her finger, under gloved hands or glamour, but she seemed to flaunt it as she ghosted it across his knuckles;  an invitation.

Sebastian's grin widened. "I have a few ideas."

"I don't have much time. So you better make every minute count."

***

Sebastian unlocked his front door with a snap of his fingers. Gestured her inside, his hand pressed into the small of her back. She inclined her head towards him, a smirk playing on her lips at the hollow politeness of his gesture. Knowing full well his intention of inviting her back to his flat was far from gentlemanly. 

Exaggerated skirts shifted as she stepped inside. Soft lamp lights scattered around his living room sparked to life in welcome illuminating the small living area. Her formal attire looked out of place; more suited for high tea than the sparsely filled space Sebastian inhabited. 

Files strewn across the long velvet settee, scattered teacups and candles burned down to the wick littered every available surface. He knew the larder would be just as barren save for some tea bags and a half-empty bottle of gin the department had cobbled together to purchase for his promotion. He didn't even like gin. The presence of female company always seemed to highlight just how every inch of his flat screamed bachelor.  

Sebastian shrugged off his cloak, hooking it on the back of the door. Never once taking his eyes off her. Odd little creature that she was. Against the faint moonlight that trickled in from the arched window on the far wall, her face cloaked in darkness, she cast a dramatic silhouette. 

Not quite her. No. But her dress despite its bulk could not disguise the dip of her waist, an alluring swell to her chest. With her face masked from view, he felt his drink-fogged mind teeter dangerously on an edge he would not let it wander past. 

She'd bent down, and pinched the corner of a piece of parchment he'd discarded the previous night between her thumb and forefinger. Sebastian slipped his wand from the holster. With a flick, the paper pried itself free to rejoin the rest which were shuffling themselves back into their file before shooting across the room into the waiting drawer of his bureau. The gold lock clicked shut, locking them securely away with an audible snap. 

Her head whipped around, her chin jutted out in irritation, and her eyes narrowed slightly into a glare. Sebastian shrugged, as he unbuckled the holster on his arm, placing it on the narrow kitchen island. "Classified information. I'm sure you understand."  

Sebastian couldn't have nosy witches trawling through his case files. He'd seen plenty of Aurors sacked for lesser sins. And reporters from the Prophet certainly weren't above seduction tactics to get their stories. That knowledge did nothing however to stop the tingle that spread down his spine that the defiant look in her eye ignited in him. 

"I suppose." She shrugged, a forced display of indifference. Before proceeding to further inspect his residence. Striding about like she owned the place and Sebastian was merely some troublesome tenant. 

The cramped flat he'd started renting in London straight out of Hogwarts could hardly be considered a home. Sebastian never planned to make it one. Or stay for as long as he did. Merely a stepping stone, at the start of his career. Close to the Ministry, so he could collapse after a long day. 

Eat. Sleep. Breath. Work. 

That desperate desire to prove himself more than what he'd been. Never satisfied with his lot in life. By the grace of Merlin, he'd been given a second chance to make himself a man - his parents, his sister, that he could be proud of. 

He had planned to settle down eventually. Fix the decaying bones of his parents' old house on the hill with her by his side. Both were now a faded, hopeless dream. Sebastian's life had rarely gone to plan.

Tracing a finger across the well-worn spines on his overstuffed bookshelf she pondered each title with interest. "Quite the collection you have. Some rather questionable titles you have here for a man of your profession."

"Special Ministry approval. They're charmed to be bound to my place of residence - before you get any ideas. Can never be too prepared in my line of work. Knowledge of magic of a more…delicate nature can be the difference between life and death."

Strictly speaking, this was not a lie. Any Auror worth his salt would have at least half the books in Sebastian's collection on curse-breaking, dark magic and deadly creatures. Admittedly, his robust library wasn't necessary for his career nor was all of it purely academic interest. 

Eyewitness accounts of skinwalkers he'd picked up on a short trip to America, liaising with the MACUSA on their rising troll problem. Journals, written in the maddening scrawl of a witch who'd fancied herself a revolutionary scholar. Wanted to test the corruption dark magic had on the soul. Daft bugger used herself to test her theories. Now all that was left of her was crammed into a bachelor's bookcase.

Smallest in number and size, a thin collection of children's stories and a letter correspondence from crackpot conspiracists. He'd been too late to salvage anything that remained of Miriam Fig's research and this pitiful array was all that he'd discovered over the years with any reference to Ancient Magic. A small house fire could destroy what Sebastian could only assume was the largest collated materials on the subject.

It had been foolish to try to love her, but perhaps more still to hunt the vengeful wraith. 

"Well read. Good career. Seems you are a rather eligible bachelor-"

Sebastian smiled moving closer towards her. "I'm not bad to look at either."

"Despite your proclivity for skulking around dingey bars. It's unusual to find a man such as yourself…unattached."

"What can I say - I'm married to my work. Not much time for anything else; not many witches would put up with the lifestyle long-term. Never been interested in marriage." 

Liar. 

She looked up at him through dark lashes, from how those sharp eyes stripped him back until he was raw and exposed - she scented his dishonesty. "Sounds like a lonely life." 

"Depends on who you ask."

Sebastian leaned heavily on the shelf above her head, elbow brushing against well-loved spines. His calloused palm slipped around her waist, running up her side. Felt the curved bones of her corset under his thumb. Leaning in closer still, enough that his breath disturbed the loose curls around her temples. Her lips parted, tongue dancing along her bottom lip as she tilted her chin up towards him like a cat basking in a warm breeze. 

She didn't waiver. Not a single flicker of hesitation in those sharp, piercing eyes. For a moment, Sebastian pitied the man who intended to marry her. But not enough to stop him from capturing her lips. 

Tasting the tang of cheap whiskey in their mingled breath. Not a slither of remorse as her delicate hands found the nape of Sebastian's neck. Used chestnut curls to pull him closer to kiss him more deeply. Their breath was little more than stolen gasps for air and an opportunity for her tongue to seize and slip past parted lips. 

Sebastian crowded her further against the bookshelf. Held tighter to the bunched fabric of her skirts, hands fumbling desperately to feel the shape it disguised. Frustrated by the garment, his lips left her mouth. Travelled down to her jaw, her breathing hitched, head tipped back to thunk against the shelf as Sebastian nipped and sucked at the column of her throat. A little too sharply. But she only pressed into him further. Blood and bruises bloomed wild across her skin as his teeth grazed along her heightened pulse. 

He knew what it was like to try to ensnare creatures such as this. How they bit when cornered. Fool that he was, he desired to tame them, change their nature; almost as much as he craved to be bitten.

Maybe that was why he held her so firmly in his grasp. Petticoats balled in his fists, as he pressed himself awkwardly against her. Her dainty form didn't quite fit the stocky mould of his own. 

Not that anyone witch or woman had since. 

Not that she seemed to care. She pulled Sebastian in like he alone was hers to drink from. Like he belonged to her and she would bend and break him to fit her. Some part of him prayed she succeeded. He'd snap every bone in his body, boil down his sinew in the hope that when at last he healed - he would fit another. 

Sebastian pressed his mouth into the crook of her shoulder and burrowed his face, inhaling deeply, as he mouthed at her skin. Soft and supple as an over-ripe peach. Desperately, pathetically trying and failing to make himself fit. But the bridge of his nose bumped harshly against her clavicle and his back ached from stooping. 

He'd never melted into anyone since her. No matter how many times he tried with countless trysts with all the ways they reminded him of her in their laughs, smiles, and eyes - they were not her.

Pained groan against her shoulder. Cloth ripped as he tore past her outdated petticoats and the silk of her undergarments. Desperate hands kneaded at her bare flesh. Thigh. Hip. The curve of her arse. Every inch of her skin grew hot, flushed under his touch. If Sebastian had been in his right mind not addled, by drink and frustration he would have handed it to her; for such a wellbred lady, she did not startle easily or cringe from his working hands. With a strung-out whine, she simply displaced the torn fabric so Sebastian's knee pressed between her thighs could provide her with more friction.

Sebastian sank to his knees, hooking her thigh around his broad shoulder. Balanced precariously, her back pressed against the stacks and her leg suspended quivering. Heel dug between his shoulder blades as she sought stability. Her limbs were lean…soft. Delicate like a lamb. No coiled muscle battle worn and firm disguised under her skirts.  

That did not stop Sebastian from groaning against the sparse hair as he nestled himself between her thighs. Her muscles clenched tighter. Not with apprehension. No. With blinding unhindered desire. Whining breathlessly, as she urged him to fulfil his role, drop any pretence to do what they came here for. This was no budding romance. And there was no time to pretend otherwise. 

Sebastian's tongue darted out teasing the tip through her folds. Eagerly seeking out her bundle of nerves to curl his tongue under her hood. Satisfied, a mewl passed her lips to at last have Sebastian where she desired him most. Hips bucked and writhed with every broad stroke and teasing lick against her soaking entrance. Brown tresses tangled harshly in her grip, those neatly filed nails scratching encouragingly against his scalp. 

Her taste was unfamiliar on Sebastian's tongue, but he only lapped at her more fervently. Desperate. As if he savoured enough of her desire for him - he could burn away the memories of sweeter nectars.

Bunching her skirt closer to her stomach, Sebastian's view of her was unobstructed. The collar pulled open where she'd made swift work of the buttons of her high neckline; they hung like loosely strung pearls cascading down her chest which heaved with every breath. Breasts dimpled against the restrictive tightly laced corset.

Sebastian's eyes flicked up to meet hers. Not the right shape or hue but that intensity to them. Storm raging across a riptide, Sebastian, vulnerable in their depth. He could drown in them and would do so gladly.

Blood rushed south, and Sebastian groaned low, pained. He sucked on her clit, coaxing more slick to coat his lips and chin. Hoping beyond hope that her eyes locked on his would flutter closed in pleasure. Her mouth was ajar, each drawn-out moan growing louder as she approached her peak. Clever calculating gaze fixed on Sebastian. He knew he was exactly where she wanted him. Prey to her predator. His cock strained and achingly hard because of it.

Her back arched against the stacks, toes curling against the centre of his back, legs shook with the strain to hold herself upright. Sebastian was relentless. He devoured the quivering nub, tongue teasing as he sucked. Her passionate cry was unrestrained, legs threatening to buckle bringing her down like a house of cards as she collapsed over the edge. Aftershock of pleasure rolled over her, he kept a firm grip on her hip as she rested more heavily against him. His desire for her is confusing and just as precarious. 

Sebastian unhooked her leg from his shoulder, palms running along the backs of her calves. She was still propped up feebly holding herself against the bookcase. Pads of her fingers clutching pathetically at the shelves with the ball of her heel holding purchase on the floor. 

Orgasm ebbing, softening her predatory edge. A smirk played at Sebastian's lips as he looked up at her once polished appearance now dishevelled. Rattling, with a lust-drunk gaze that defiant chin hanging slightly ajar as she greedily gulped down air. 

She narrowed her eyes at his smug expression and gathered her composure before slipping her ruined dress from her shoulders letting it puddle at her feet. Nail digging under his chin as she beckoned Sebastian upwards, pulling him in. 

It made Sebastian's heart beat wildly against his chest. A caged canary faced with a falcon. 

Teeth grazed his bottom lip, tongue seeking his own. Sebastian's clothes fell away easily from his broad frame. His shirt was discarded, followed by breeches which tangled around his ankles as they fumbled towards the settee. Muffled grunts into her mouth every time her palm grazed his cock, hard and throbbing, through his undergarments. Sebastian moved to lie her swiftly across the settee. One hand pressed into the small of her back the other tangled in amongst the pins now falling loose from her hair.

 

Inexplicably, she moved faster than Sebastian thought she was capable of. Leg hooked around his ankle like a snake pulling him off balance. Backs of his knees connected with the settee as his legs buckled and Sebastian collapsed bodily onto cushions. Rarely with his extensive training did anyone get the jump on him. 

Her lips curled as she observed the way his enlarged head twitched against his belly more eagerly. "Now, I think it's my turn." Laces from her corset pulled loose, she let the camisole shift to the floor with it. "-And you looked far too pretty beneath me."

As she straddled his lap, Sebastian spluttered on his groan and the intoxicating sensation of her wet centre against his shaft. Her palms were flat, braced against his chest, nails scratching at the coarse hairs that grew there. Every inch of her soft, naked flesh pressed against him. His hands settled on the curve of her hips, sliding along her flushed skin with hands that seemed too large. 

She really was quite pretty. Sebastian just wished the parts that didn't remind him of her made his heart race as much as the ones that did. 

She caught his lips, fingers cupped against his jaw, her mouth moving against his. Teeth and tongue. Hot breath came out in short dulcet pants as she greedily tasted the remnants of her arousal on his lips.

Her hand snaked down between them, taking Sebastian's throbbing length in her hand. He hissed, as her thumb smoothed over the leaking slit, aligning him with her entrance. Eyelashes fluttered a satisfied sigh, as she sank down, taking him inside of her. Dainty as she may appear, she appeared to relish the stretch to accommodate his size, almost as much as he did. So tight she gripped his cock, it almost sent him hurtling over the edge. 

Barely giving herself time to adjust before she canted her hips. Weight shifting so she could slide up his shaft until only the head of his cock remained before sinking back down onto Sebastian's girth more demandingly. Needy grunts reverberated in Sebastian's chest as he matched her frantic desperate pace. Forehead braced on her chest as he bucked his hips into her tight core. Pebbled nipple caught between his lips, her head thrown back in a wanton moan as Sebastian ever so gently grazed the peak with his teeth. 

Sebastian closed his eyes. Whiskey fog coupled with the godly feel of her clenched around him, he relaxed into her eager pace. Inhibitions lowered, his mind straying to the well-worn path he rarely let himself tread. 

Face striking contorted in ecstasy; a savage beauty like lightning striking the ocean. Mallowsweet scent; that soothed like a botanist's herbal balm. How perfectly her body wrapped around his own as if by design. Sebastian's teeth pressed hard against his tongue as her name danced upon it. With his eyes closed, hands held back - that shameful part of him could pretend it was her. 

"Sebastian," the witch moaned. He didn't remember giving her his name. Nor asking hers. The voice he heard was not that polite West Country lilt but one conjured from Hades - his divine pleasure and punishment. 

Can't let it be her. 

Sebastian forced his eyes open, to look at the woman from the bar. Her neat hair, narrow shoulders and thin top lip. Only to find the lines separating fantasy from reality blurred and contorted. His stomach lurched. 

Maybe he'd had more to drink than he thought. 

Whiskey had crowded and garbled his senses as well as his inhibitions. Sebastian's vision was merely blurred. She looked like her. Not just in her eyes but the sloping curve of her neck, the arch of her nose, her hair longer and tangling against the neat pins that had once held it back. 

It's all the whiskey. 

If he could bring himself to look away from her face for even one moment he would see the room spinning. But he couldn't look away. 

Those keen eyes bore into him, locked with his own and he swore they changed colour. The fire that had been smouldering within sparked, roaring, melting her irises into that familiar hue. 

He didn't just have to squeeze his eyes shut to see her and pretend it was her impossibly tight walls clenching around him with every thrust. 

There she was. 

"You," Sebastian spluttered, disbelief tight in his chest. "No. No- It can't be you. This can't be happening." Who cares if he sounded mad? His mind was spiralled and scrambled, desperate to bring back the visage of the woman from the bar and right himself. This face; her face didn't waver. She rolled her hips once more, bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she cast her gaze down. Over her breasts and the faded scar that curled under the left from the crucio, he'd administered. Firm muscles of her legs earned from years of battle. Calloused hands of someone who knew little of comfort. All were once again her own. 

Sebastian's world was spiralling, tipping on its axis. Tension in every muscle in his body. Still as beautiful as she was in his nightmares, even the ones where she tore out his heart. She clicked her tongue, amused then smiled. So wide, it bore too many teeth.

Fucking exquisite. Sebastian despised the way his heart faltered in his chest. 

"Pity. I guess the kneazle's out of the bag," she purred, teeth raking sharp across his earlobe. So sharp it shocked his spiral back into sickening clarity like ice in his veins. 

Like a shot, Sebastian wrapped his hand hard around her throat forcing her face away from him. Thumb pressed harshly into the corner of her jaw with his iron grip on her windpipe. Any sane woman would tremble to have his large hand like a vice around her throat in anger. Cower, under the venom in his eyes.

But she was far from sane; perhaps never had been. She gasped involuntarily choking around where his fingers so deeply pressed into her flesh, but the smile on her lips never faltered despite how he could feel the hammer of her blood against his fingertips.

"You should know I don't share," she wheezed. It wasn't the polite West Country drawl she'd adopted at the bar - but that feminine purr he knew far too well. Velvety, like a caress that sent shivers down his spine; and if it were possible simultaneously made his blood run cold and his cock impossibly stiffer where it was sheathed deep within her. She whimpered approvingly, hot breath ghosting his freckled cheeks.

"Fuck- how did you-" Choking on his groan as she expertly rolled her hips, grinding on his cock. Evil, manipulative witch. She knew exactly how to turn practically every rational thought in Sebastian's brain to smoke. 

"Polyjuice. She was pretty don't you think? You seemed to like fucking her while it lasted. Maybe not as much as that curvy redhead from a few months ago...I had bruises on my thighs for weeks."

Somewhere deep in his psyche, Sebastian knew he should push her off. Bind her. Gag her. Put as much distance between himself and her and the mixed-up way she made him feel. Preferably in a cell in the deepest part of Azkaban the Ministry had long ago allocated for her when they signed the warrant for her arrest. At that moment, over the cacophony screaming through his head the only coherent thought was how to keep her desperately bouncing on his cock. 

"I thought it was my turn to have some unsanctioned fun." 

No - rose, bubbled and died in his throat. Caught somewhere amongst the shameful rasping groan as she began to rhythmically rock her hips. Never quite releasing her entirely, but Sebastian's grip on her throat loosened as his muscles slackened in shameful pleasure. 

Using every bit of her newfound leash, she leaned forward to kiss him. Sin, like ambrosia on his tongue. Lips slotted against him, they moved in perfect harmony to a melody he wished had never been composed on his bones. 

She wrapped around him as if the wild thing that she had always been had sprouted from the earth, and curled her tendrils around him. Or rather, like a constant wave beating against him she'd worn his surface. It was a marvel he hadn't crumbled into her sooner. 

"You're mine you know," she cooed, her breath hot against his ear.

"I am not," Sebastian spat. But try as he might to deny it, curse her until his final breath - his words rang hollow. And he loathes himself all the more for it. She was not his any longer, but something else. Twisted by cruelty and power that simply wore the face of the woman he once loved. 

Shame stirred in his gut; desire coursed through his blood. 

"Denying it doesn't make it any less true. You know me blind. When my face is not my own. Fate has bound us, Sebastian. Just as I would know you in any life."

Sebastian gritted his teeth, cheek pressed against her sternum. Fingers digging into her shoulder blades, as he pounded his cock up into her harder, faster. If he was stronger, he would not be prey to her illicit designs for him - but he was not. She keened, greedy to take all he could give her. Consume him entirely if she could. Sebastian closed his eyes and cursed himself for being weak.

Vision narrowing, Sebastian groaned, low and pitiful into the curve of her neck. Ashamed of what he knew was coming. "I hate you," he cursed. Repeated it like a mantra, his lips against her sweat-salted skin as if he could transcribe the words onto her flesh.

Deep plunges into her warmth growing erratic as Sebastian's coil tightens. Her body clenched, tightening around him, with every thrust teased against her sweet spot coaxing more slick onto his cock. His punishing words merely rolled off her curves like water off a duck's back. 

"S-Sebastian," her hoarse cry pierced through his resolve. Sebastian bit into her neck trying and failing to hold back from the precipice of the inevitable. Unwilling to surrender any more of himself to her. It only served to send her hurtling over the cliff. His cock buried deep inside of her, her head thrown back, cunt quivering as her climax broke. Orgasm, wracked through her in waves. Engulfing Sebastian's every sense. 

Fire and Brimstone. Gentle breezes and mallowsweet. 

Beauty. Terror. 

Rhythm faltering, Sebastian's hips spluttered as that mounting coil finally snapped. Her name on his lips, her scent on his skin. Everything that remained of Sebastian Sallow was consumed entirely by her. He came hard - with a broken pathetic whine that forced itself from his body as he spilt inside of her.

It was no little death - it was all-consuming. A part of him would never come back from. Another piece of his soul surrendered along with what was left of his dignity. 

Sebastian fought for breath. Unforgiving waters filled his chest, ice seized his joints, heart thundered as dark edges clouded his vision, threatening to drown out the light and sound. Choking on his saliva he wheezed, shoulders heaved forward violently. Fresh tears pricked in his eyes. 

She shushed his soothingly, thumb tracing idle patterns on his skin with a sickening gentleness that curdled his stomach. He whined pathetically against her chest but she only gripped him harder. Fingers carded through his hair as she hummed a sweet tune peppering kisses to the crown of his chestnut hair. 

Perhaps, in another life, he had the strength to overcome the guilt and sickness now seizing his bones. In another, perhaps there was no deception to be ashamed of. 

He wasn't sure how long they sat entwined, soft cock still inside her, his spend leaking onto his thighs matting in the hair. When at last Sebastian's violent sobbing eased he felt the enchantment stretch across his body, taunt ropes strapped his arms to his sides, and bound his ankles. A chaste kiss against his temple as she slid from his lap.

Sebastian watched her and tried to pretend for a second, that he was not bound, she was not mad and hips swaying hypnotically as she pranced naked around their flat as she did every Sunday evening. Not his. Theirs. Another life, unstained by dark magic where she was still his. 

Fussing with her dress, eyebrows pinched together, frowning as she examined the shredded yellow gown. She sighed, holding the unlaced corset over her breasts, gathering up the remnants to haul them to the kitchen island. She found his wand, with its emerald and onyx handle, the one that had belonged to his paternal great-grandfather. Back and forth she toyed with it in her hands. 

"Put that down." A feeble attempt at a threat from a man bound, naked, cheeks streaked with stale tears. Tight from salt they felt stretched like a drum. 

"You ruined my dress," she pouted. "The least you can do is help me fix it."

Traitorously, Sebastian's wand didn't so much as shudder in retaliation. It obeyed her easily, stitching up the splintered seams, her corset tightened, cinching at her waist. Her hairpins reorganised themselves. She looked almost like her old self, the girl she'd been at school, with a spark of fire in her eyes that mirrored his own. 

"Before you go running off to the next little witch who bats her eyelashes at you, Bash. Try to remember - I don't share." She placed his wand back on the counter and slipped a canteen from her purse. She drank deeply. Gagging, hand smacking into her chest to keep down whatever foul liquid it contained.

If Sebastian had still been drunk the way her face bubbled like stew on a boil would have turned his stomach. Her lips thinned, her hair shrunk back into her scalp, her scars paled and her muscles softened. The woman from the Pub returned, exactly as he'd met her. It did nothing to quell the sickness churning in his gut. 

"Au revoir mon amour." She was gone as quickly as she came, but her presence lingered like a gaping, festering wound. 

Sebastian sat in the dark. Hatred for her that he cultivated in public and the private yearning he tended to as it grew like persistent weeds in his garden he tended had given way to emptiness. A void that for a time he was content to let swallow him whole as he stared at the cracks in his floor. Mourning the woman he'd loved. But most he mourned for himself, for all she took from him. 

Shadows inched across the floor as dawn eventually broke. Long after the bindings had dissolved. Sebastian hadn't slept or moved for hours and his joints stiff, groaned as he got to his feet. He trudged to his bathroom and ran the water until it was scalding. Intent on scrubbing his skin raw. As if she could un-touch him. 

[perfectlyoongi]

ROOMMATE!JIN who went to your room just to recite some poem in the most dramatic way. there were several times when Jin would suddenly open the door to your room and start talking — no — star shouting a poem he had found on the internet. with overly flamboyant hand gestures and ever-rising and falling tone of voice, Jin brought the poems to life in the most eccentric way he could. poems of love, of loss, of oranges, no matter what soul the poem had, the truth is that Jin would always represent all its words. ending without waiting for your applause, Jin bowed and left your room without saying a word, always leaving you with a smile on your lips that lasted the rest of the day. “oh cruel fate that took you from me, but brought me to… no, wait, i was wrong. fate… brought… oh, okay, i know. let’s go from the top.”

ROOMMATE!JIN who has a color system on his bedroom door. yellow socks: Jin was sleeping in just his boxers. red sock: Jin was taking a nap. blue sock: Jin was playing. purple sock: Jin was working. white sock: you could go into Jin’s room. the list continued through so many colors and prints that you had to beg Jin to put the caption on his bedroom door. it was a small system that Jin created when the two of you first met; he was too shy to explain that there were times when he needed silence; so, Jin started wearing his different socks to show you his availability, becoming a constant detail in your home. “i already updated the caption so you don’t wake me up again. pay attention that you have blue and blue with blue. they are two different socks, okay?”

ROOMMATE!JIN who gets ready to sleep with you every night. when you decided that you had already lived all day, you would go to Jin’s room, knocking on the door three times and then walking to the bathroom. in no time, Jin was at your side, with a towel on his head, ready to wash his face and teeth in your company. you and Jin would decompress together at the end of the day, finding between the soap and toothpaste a complicity that grew with each of your rituals. exchanging plans for the next day and stories that happened that day, you and Jin were getting ready in an instant to go to bed, leaving the bathroom at the same time, saying goodbye with a small wink and a see you tomorrow. “i thought you had already forgotten me. today is late. is everything fine? did something happen?”

ROOMMATE!JIN who lights a candle whenever you have an important day. a meeting, an exam, a doctor’s appointment, it didn’t matter what was going to happen; if you had an important day for you that has been making you anxious since the beginning of the week, Jin would light a small green candle to wish you good luck. whether it was cold or very hot, Jin would go to his window sill, light the candle and say a few words in the hope of catching the attention of whatever god is in charge of protecting you. “may you be safe this day. your exam will be successful and you will not have any problems with your car inspection. today everything will be fine. today the world is on your side.”

ROOMMATE!JIN who bakes cakes with you where one of you can’t see and the other can’t talk. it was a disaster. a complete disaster. but oh, how fun it was. at the end of each attempt, you and Jin spent more time tidying up the kitchen than cooking itself, but that didn’t make any impression on you. for long minutes, you and Jin only knew how to communicate through shouts, gestures and laughter and there was no better moment in your lives than cooking together. the cake could often turn out bad, burning from time to time, not rising almost every time, but it wasn’t for the cake that you did that challenge. all you and Jin wanted was a moment of your own that couldn’t be stolen by the world — for small minutes, you and Jin were happy. “this time it’s you who doesn’t see and you will understand what i suffered last time. i’ll let you know that i’m not going to tell you whether you chose flour or sugar. good luck trying to do something decent.”

ROOMMATE!JIN who sits on the floor of your room whenever he’s bored. for a man who wanted so much and did so much, being bored was dangerous for Jin. seeing the minutes passing without having any activity to do drove Jin crazy. so when these more monotonous moments started to afflict him, Jin just went to your room and sat on the floor sometimes next to your bed, sometimes next to your desk, it all depended on where you were. and for a long time, until Jin found something to do, he would sit there, watching you work or listening to your stories. you were already used to this peculiarity of Jin, so much so that whenever you saw him sitting next to you, it was your habit to take your hand to his head and start playing with his hair. they were calm moments, something that both you and Jin cherished, especially in that house of yours that seemed to attract chaos. “the day seems so long… tell me a story. make me forget the monotony of living.”

ROOMMATE!JIN who declares himself to you when you were putting down the halloween decorations. another holiday spent, another few laughs exchanged, another story shared. when Jin held the box and followed you around the house taking out the various bats and ghosts, something took over him. for some reason, in that banality, Jin had a suffocating need to declare himself to you. could it be the spirits of the stars that placed a curse on Jin? or did Jin simply see the trigger of his heart in your smile? Jin never received an answer. he just spoke. at that moment, as equal as any other, Jin declared himself to you. “we’ve lived together long enough for me to know that you’re someone i always want in my life. because i like you, you know? i really like you.”

[servantofthefates]

The Spokes of the Wheel of Fortune

Life is a wheel. Sometimes you are on top. Sometimes you are not. The Wheel of Fortune says, “It is time you get back on top again.”

MEANINGS

Windfall

The money you have been praying for is finally on the way. You have waited this long. Hold on for one more day.

Luck

Fortuna, the Lady of Luck, is smiling down upon you. Whatever wish you have at the moment is sure to come true.

Destiny

An event, good or bad, is about to unfold. One that is a part of your fate and cannot be stopped or put on hold.

SYMBOLS

The Fixed Signs

The man is Aquarius. The eagle, Scorpio. The lion, Leo. The bull, Taurus. At their best, the Fixed signs are the strongest. Whatever is coming your way will have an impact that will forever stay.

The Wheel

Depicted is the wheel of a cart, not of a car. That is why it is slow. Whatever is about to come into your life has been making its way to you for some time, but may continue to take a while.

The Color Orange

The wheel is traditionally a shade of bright or light orange. This color foreshadows thrilling moments. Its tinge of yellow represents gladness. Its touch of red predicts excitement.

SITUATIONS

Finances and Career

A long-awaited promotion. A job offer from your dream company. A large increase in salary.

Love and Romance

The arrival of your soulmate, or of a marriage proposal. Or the circumstances needed so you can finally be wedded.

Health and Wellbeing

If you are unwell, you are recovering slowly but surely, and will one day be again completely healthy.

[whyyouacknsocraycray]

Miquella Failed to Ascend to Godhood: the promised essay

I made a small post about this a few days ago, but I am only falling further into this rabbit hole of a theory. I don't care what the card says when you finally kill Promised Consort Radahn. Miquella was never a god of a new order, but accidentally became a lord of the old order.

Part 1: Imagery

This thought first came to me because Miquella on Radahn's back looks a lot like Serosh on Godfrey's back.

Miquella and Serosh are both more like spirits divested of flesh, though Serosh may still have some sort of physical presence given that Godfrey could kill him. Even Miquella's hair, extra long from how it appears in his cutscene, takes on a lion's mane appearance for Radahn.

The fighting styles of both Radahn and Godfrey also change depending on the presence of the other's soul. Radahn can use Miquella's light along with his gravity and blood attacks, and Godfrey's style completely changes without Serosh. He forgoes his great axe, his armor, and even his name to become his true self, Hoarah Loux.

Part 2: Vows

There are several parallels between Radahn and Godfrey that speak to Miquella's choice as part of a repeating cycle, no matter how much Miquella believes he is breaking away from that cycle. Radahn idolized Godfrey and became a great warrior

In another parallel between Radahn, Miquella, and Godfrey, the word "vow" appears in an item description of the Godfrey icon:

Godfrey was a ferocious warrior. When he vowed to become a lord, he took the Beast Regent Serosh upon on his back to suppress the ceaseless lust for battle that raged within.

We hear a lot of talk about a vow between Miquella and Radahn, though it is never clear exactly what was promised between them. I believe Radahn wanted to be Elden Lord, much like Godfrey was. Perhaps he knew he'd need some sort of advisor to calm his desires for war, and Miquella would be part of that balance. But of course, Miquella wanted to be a god, not just an advisor.

Lord brother. I'm going to be a god. If we honour our part of the vow, promise me you'll be my consort. I'll make the world a gentler place.

The wording... talking about a vow already being made and asking for another promise on top of it, implies that the vow was made before Miquella declared he was going to be a god. Perhaps this was at the beginning of the Shattering, or when Miquella first learned he was an Empyrean. Miquella is changing the original agreement in this scene, another reason why Radahn fought Malenia instead of accepting a place at Miquella's side.

Part 3: The Secret Rite and Miquella's outer god

We only know one line from the secret rite:

"A lord will usher in a god's return, and the lord's soul will require a vessel."

We are led to believe by Ansbach that the soul Miquella wants is Radahn's, and the vessel is Mohg. But while Ansbach believes this to be true, it's never confirmed that Radahn's soul is present. He doesn't speak, but only displays his and Mohg's powers. Pieces of Radahn without the rot and pieces of Mohg combined into one body.

There is also Radahn's uncharacteristic collapse after fighting us in phase 1. He seems to glow red and yellow as Miquella returns, picking him up and supplying him with more power. It's highly possible that it is Miquella's soul that attached itself to Radahn's frankenstein-ed corpse rather than ascending to godhood.

We also know nothing about the outer god that is attached to Miquella, but it is likely closely related to his flesh. Much like how Malenia's curse was one of the flesh, being the outer god of rot. Whatever god would have allowed Miquella to ascend as a god and its vessel, that connection may have been broken as Miquella divested himself of his flesh and fate.

Marika, who had a physical form, didn't ascend alone. She was chosen by the Elden Beast to be a vessel for the Elden Ring. But Miquella's circlet of light doesn't appear to be an outer god, instead reading:

This circle was to be the very foundation upon which Miquella's age of compassion would be built, should it have ever come to pass.

The age couldn't have come to pass, as there was no divinity behind. Miquella divested himself of it.

But... does that make Serosh the actual first Elden Lord, not Godfrey? Sort of. The man known as "Godfrey" is a combination of Serosh and Hoarah Loux, two souls working together in one vessel. Hence when Serosh is destroyed, only Hoarah Loux remains.

Part 4: Miquella always fails

I've seen a few posts and videos talk about Miquella's curse being that everything he does never leaves nascency. Unalloyed gold, the Haligtree... all start out working well but ultimately come up short of success.

Becoming a god in the Lands Between seems to require tying the self to some outer cosmic power. Marika houses the Elden Ring, and Ranni embraces her Dark Moon. It is why St. Trina warns us that godhood would be a prison, as becoming a god would require him to be attached to the very outer god that cursed him. But trying to remove the curse is also what causes him to fail at godhood, as there is no cosmic power to allow his ascension.

Miquella tried to become a god of a new order. Instead, he became a regent/lord to something... possibly the Elden Ring, possibly to something unknown.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

I wish you'd write a fic where Tom Bennett calls out his sister for naming her baby after his beloved canary

lmao a tidbit for you, Erin, my love...

"Alright, so where is she then? My niece?" Tom asks, rolling the filterless cigarettes between two fingers, lips twitching in agitation, eager to change the subject.

"Vera's over there," Lois nods towards the corner.

His eyebrows raise in surprise. Tom had left his canary in the care of his dad when he'd returned to Manchester, following the battle of the River Plate. He had expected her to have suffered the same fate as Douglas after their house was bombed. The idea that she's survived makes him grin; a tiny, yellow beacon of light in so much darkness.

However, as he turns to look, seeing only a cot with a sleeping baby in it, his grin fades, replaced a look of confusion as his brow furrows. He turns back to Lois, eyes narrowed.

"That's a baby..."

"Yeah, she is," Lois replies as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, "she's not even a year old yet."

Tom scoffs, chucking his cigarette down on the table, shifting in his seat to face his sister fully. "No, what I mean is, Vera was my canary. Tell me you haven't called your baby the same bloody thing?!"

A grin spreads across Lois's face, her eyes twinkling as she places a hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing. "Oh god, I didn't even realise..."

He tuts, lips pursing in irritation. "Course you didn't. Well, no bets on what that thing's gonna lay. I'm going out for a fag."

Rising from his seat, he plucks the unlit cigarette from the table top, and heads towards the door. He pauses as Lois calls out to him.

"Don't you want to hold her?"

"Yeah, I will once you've changed its nappy."

[floydsglasses]

𝙑𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙂𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙚-Jake "Hangman" Seresin (A Quiet Place AU)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x AFAB OC/Piper

SUMMARY: The world outside is in ruins, human being's are almost extinct, silence is now the key to survival. A family's seemingly happy existence in a bleak world is shattered by monsters.

Tags: Mention of blood/wounds, post apocalyptic setting, use of ASL, Alien creatures. Established Relationship, Implied Smut, (sorry) A LOT OF Angst, Swearing, Fluff, Parenting, self defense k!lling, child endangerment, men being creepy to a woman, first aid

A/N HOLY SHIT THIS IS LONG! Im telling you guy's that you wont hurt my feeling's if you dont read because I wouldn't

WORD COUNT: 9,103

⏁⏁⏁

THEIR QUIET FARMHOUSE almost seemed untouched from the horror’s of the world outside its fenceline. The both of them had talked about leading a quiet life, staying on farms raising animals and crops. Waking up to the sunshine each day and ending the day with a family meal, and falling asleep to the sound of wildlife. 

She was so sure that their late night talk would never happen. Not with the lives they lead, her working shift’s as a nurse, her hour’s never being consistent. And him almost always being on leave or another country away from her. Did not help when she took the fateful test that two pink lines showed up. 

Before the both of them did everything they could to spend time with their little girl, Piper would take every weekend off for her. Even though she and Jake were not married they would give each other day’s with her. Then day one of the end of normal happened, and they had to now fight to protect their little girl from harm more than ever. 

Today was their weekly supply run. Usually consisted of one of them staying behind and the other heavily armed packing as much as they can. Things were a little different, she had never brought Alice with her on a run, she knew she couldn't hide her from the world forever, they both knew. 

She gently pulls down a can of carrots from the supermarket shelves.  She looked down at the list in her hand, she had already gotten most of what she needed, she was bent on trying to find Alice something soft, and non noise making for her to play. The sound of her crayons scraping the floor catche’s her attention. 

Her lips formed a soft smile. She bent down to a height of five year’s height. Her green eyes look up at her mother. Almost the spitting image of herself with the exception of her father’s eyes and grin. 

“Good Job.” Piper signed to her, she grinned. She had been teaching her simple ASL thing’s when she was three, two years later she knows almost fifty word’s to sign, almost more than her own father. 

She picks up her yellow crayon beginning to fill in the sun she drew in the corner tile. A home drawn with dark blue, in the top a purple cartoon plane with a stick figure with yellow hair. 

“That’s you.” The little girl point’s at the stick figures with her auburn hair fiery orange. She drags her finger to the other corner.

Tapping a purple cartoon plane with a stick figure with yellow hair. “And that’s daddy.” She signed. 

“I love it.” She signed with a smile. She envied how innocent she was in their bleak world, she was always grinning and running around their home. Piper gets to her feet leaving her to her 100 crayola pack. 

It was hard to find activities to preoccupy the five year old, one’s that were silent the least. She still tried to educate her as much as she could, teaching her basic reading and which animal’s were which, one’s she would never see sadly. 

The little girl had been too young to recall the trip to the zoo the two of them had taken. 

She touches her braid, pulling her windbreaker close to herself. The calendar she kept read was the end of February and soon March would be approaching. She furrowed her brow, where the hell is he? She thinks.

She had given him the simple task of collecting anything that seemed edible, and batteries. It was a miracle that they even got a generator, much less a place to hold up. 

Her friend had bought the place and planned to make it a functioning farm; he had let her stay there till everything ‘blew over’, she wished he had been right. 

“Jake?” She signed, she shook her head. He can't even see you signing, she reminds herself.

Her heart dropped to her stomach at the flash of a brown jacket. She held her chest panting as she collected herself. He held his mouth, stifling his chuckle.

“Don't do that.” She scolded him, her eye’s hardened with irritation. He smirked his million dollar smirk. 

“I'm sorry.” He start’s off, his motion’s quick. He’s been learning, she thinks through her annoyance.

“I just like seeing your squirm.” The blonde teased. 

She shook her head, trying to contain her smirk. Even in a world where everything had gone silent, somehow it didn't silence him.  

“I hate when you do that.” She scolded him. He shrugged his shoulders.

“Well I love when you do that.” He says, leaning closer to her face. She sighed, she quietly cleared her throat stepping back. 

“What did you find?” She asks him. He turned around, stealthy removing five can’s from his bag, a bottle of jack daniel’s, a lighter and seasons. 

She furrowed her brow picking up the whiskey. She raised a brow at his shopping choice.

“Really?” She signed. He smirked mischievous, she shook her head, 

“How about this?” He challenged, she furrowed her brow, putting her hand on her hips.  He reached inside of his bag slowly pulling something.

His hand grips a small tanned stuffed animal, its beady black eyes stare at her, its hair frizzy with a mane that rounded its entire head and tail, fake white fang’s sewn into the side of its muzzle. 

Her frown slowly morphed into a warm smile. “This make it better?” Jake ask’s. She leaned her head sideways. 

“Maybe.” Piper signed, he smirked at her. He knew the world was starting to take its toll on her.

Night’s weren't easy, she would wake in cold sweat, panting trying to let out a scream, she knew she couldn't. 

“This keep me from sleeping on the couch?” He wondered, she shrugged her shoulders, stepping forward.

“No bet on that flyboy.” She teased him. He held his chest in dramatic fashion.

“Ouch.” He mouthed, she shook her head wrapping her arms around his neck pulling him closer to her. 

His green eyes studied her as she gazed into his. His hair had grown out in the two years of their new world, before he had it well groomed to meet the standard’s of the Navy, his face no longer clean, his blonde beard now similar to a cowboy of spaghetti western. She couldn't complain though, she liked how he looked. She just wished he would keep up with the hygiene.

“You need a shave.” Piper signed. He scoffed at her signals. “Are you gonna do it for me?” He asks with a smirk.

“Who else would.” She joked. He shook his head pecking the auburn hair girl on the lips, she smiled. The sound of a quiet gagging noise causes the two to pull away from each other. At the end of the isle stood Alice, pointing at her tongue at their physical affection. 

The two adults smiled at each other. She removes her arms from around his neck, walking over to the little girl.

“Are you finished drawing?” She asked her. She nodded her head, with a toothy grin.

“Get your stuff, don't go far okay.” She asked her. She patted her on her polka dotted puffer coat.

Piper looked back at the blonde man, looking down at her feet sadly then at him.

“Pack this all up.” She order’s, he mocks her. 

She rounded up smaller thing’s into her bag. The walk back to their home was going to be a long one, she had made sure to find duct tape for her tom’s. Jake had given her tip’s on how to not attract the creature’s attention. 

The three begin to exit the rundown pharmacy. Piper adjusted her beanie, tucking bit’s of her braid into the edge’s. Jake grunted bending down picking up the five year old little girl, placing her on his hip as they started their long walk back. Strolling past the abandoned building’s of what used to be the surrounding small town near San Diego.

⏁⏁⏁

SHE SCRUBBED AWAY in the water at the dishes, one of her humane chore’s that she used to enjoy most of the time became a dreaded one. To keep thing’s silent in their household, she had to wash them in water in the sink. They did have running water, which they only ran for their shower’s,for their dishe’s they stuck to fetching it from a well five miles from the property. 

She adjusted her ponytail, wiping the sweat from her forehead.  A hand gently set a cup deep into the water, she whipped her head.

“Sorry.” He signed with thin lined smirk.

“It’s okay.” Piper reassured him, she didn't have the energy to be mad. He looked down at the dirty soapy water, she huffed running her green sponge through the lukewarm water. 

“Stop.” He signs. 

She furrowed her brow. “Why?” She asks him. His lip’s formed a thin line. “Because I want to.” He tells her, she raised a brow. 

“I want to help.” He sign’s to her mouthing the words. 

She sighed, handing over the green sponge, he smirked as she leaned on the kitchen island. She looked over to the living room, Alice sat on the floor, playing quietly with her doll’s near a gas lantern that illuminated her area with an orange glow. 

The sun outside had set, the sky filled with dark clouds and the star’s painted the night. Silent, like always, not for the occasional bird chirping, too high for the creature’s to kill, she guessed. He placed the final plate down on the towel. 

He turned around leaning on the sink, She stared off deep in thought. He stands in front of the auburn hair woman.

“Are you okay?” He asked. 

She shakes her head. “No.” Piper admit’s, her shoulders tensed as she leaned off the island.  His brows furrowed. 

“What’s on your mind?” He asked worriedly.  She licked her lip’s crossing her arms. 

“I saw those symbol’s again.” She signed to him, he raised a brow. 

“Where?” Jake asked her, she sighed heavily. 

“Back of the grocery store.” She tells him. She knew there were rumor’s on the radio of a group killing people they deem too loud for the new world. They had gained the nickname ‘The Bandits’, over parts of the town she would see on wall’s initials, SDB, written in dark brown ink or what she thought was ink. 

“They're getting closer to us.” She state’s, his eyes softened at her worry.

“They don't know we are here.” He reassures her, she shakes her head. 

“But what if they do.” She says, her brown eye’s beginning to welt over with tears in the corners. He shakes his head, stepping closer to her, taking her hands. 

“They don't.” He signed with one hand, she gulped looking him in his eyes.

“If they find out we are here–they will do something bad.” Piper admits to him, she looked over into the living room where her daughter sat playing, unaware of their conversation. 

She looks back to him. “What if they try to..hurt her.” She stumbled over her signing. He shook his head. 

“We won't let that happen.”  Jake reasure’s her. 

“Nothing else matters to me more than her.” Piper tells him. Her heart skipped a beat, she could see the fear flash for a moment in his face. 

“If something happened to her, I couldn't live with myself.” She signed. 

“I'm not gonna let them find us.” He swears, his fist balled as he signed to her. “And if they do.” He inhales deeply. 

“They will regret fucking with the wrong family.” The blonde stated. Her frown slowly turned to a soft smile. 

“What?” He signed, she covered her mouth, muffling her soft chuckle. “You sound like your old self, Flyboy.” She wrap’s one arm on his shoulder bringing him into an embrace. He smirks against her shoulder. 

She brings her nose into his black shirt that clung to him. She thought it was strange how the world had to end to bring them closer, more than the day their daughter was born. She had barely seen him when he was in the Navy, he was always busy. 

A loud crash brings them out of their embrace. Jake’s head snapped in the sound’s direction, seeing the flame’s from the gas lamp starting to spread, he quickly ran grabbing the dark blanket, throwing it on top of the fire, patting down extinguishing it.

The young girl looked up at him, her eyes widened as the silence filled the room again. Piper’s heart skipped a beat as it began to race, she didn't dare to move as she anticipated the sound of the inhumane roar’s hell bent on ending their disrupters. Jake slowly gets to his knees, quietly as possible. 

Silence, dead silence. Piper glanced at her daughter, her eye’s widening as she looked to her father.He lightly got to his feet, looking all around at the farmhouse ceiling. His shoulders relaxed,He shook his head turning around. 

BANG!.  

She flinched, her heart dropping to her stomach. He brings his finger to his lips, signaling her to be quiet. Alice’s breath shake’s as her eye’s darted between her parent’s, her mother stood frozen with her mouth parted, her father slowly making his way to the window. 

He leaned his head close to the cool glass. He looked to the roof, he looked down at the ground.

Cries of a wild dog interrupted the silence, the brown and tan coyote scampered away knocking down trash. The couple let out a breath of relief, Alice ran on her tiptoes to her mother’s side, wrapping her arms around her tightly. 

Her eye’s fell, as she looked down at her as she stroked her strawberry blonde hair. She wanted to whisper in her daughter’s ear that she was okay, that the monster’s were not gonna come back, that she was safe. Speaking was a grace that she had for three years of life, now it was all gone. 

⏁⏁⏁

GENTLY SHE walked down the stairs, the watch on her wrist reading half past ten o’clock. She ran her hand through her hair, messy with wave’s from being in a braid for so long. She clung to the oversized plaid shirt that engulfed her figure, his clothes some of the time made up most of her wardrobe.

She slowly walked to the sliding door’s of the basement bathroom, it somehow being an almost safe room for them to be in, the rushing of the shower water drowning out their voice.

The air smelt of cedarwood filled in nostrils as she stood leaned on the doorway. The steam from the shower still lingering as she watched him apply aftershave. His beard now reduced to a stubble, his hair though remained untouched. He wiped the condensation from the mirror with his fist, her silhouette casted onto the hickory wall’s.

He smirked softly, facing her. A towel wrapped around his neck, only clothes remaining on him being his black sleep shorts. “What are you doing up?” He wonder’s.

She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. “Couldn't sleep.” She signs to him, he nods his head.

“How is she?” He ask’s, she sighed.

“Fine I think..at least what you could be in this place.” She tells him.

He looked her up and down, she wore a dark gray shirt with US NAVY written in bold font, and striped sleep shorts, paired with his red plaid shirt that she once swore she would return to him. He smiled softly.

“What?” She signed to him, her lip’s forming a thin line and smiled. He runs his fingers across the front of his face in clockwise motion, his fingers and thumb end at his chin. Beautiful, Her face grew beet red.

He shook his head, still smiling. “Nothing.” He says. She nodded her head at his secretiveness, he sighed, opening a draw, pulling out black and blue hair dress scissors. He motion’s them to her.

“I’ll do it.” She tells him. She quietly slid the door behind her shut, closing it with a rag in the way. The auburn hair woman, sit’s behind on the leather bench with her legs. He held up his finger for her to wait.

He leaned over, reaching in pulling the handle for the water, purposely setting it to cold. He sits on the floor with his back to her, leaning back into her. She gently takes her fingers through his hair, finding the dead end’s to cut off.

She carefully snipped off bit’s onto the violet towel.

“You know you could do this yourself.” Piper speak’s up softly, he chuckled.“Why would I do that?" He ask's her.

"You do it so much better.” Jake admit’s, his tone haughty. She rolled her eye’s playfullying as she continued to work away.

“Sure Flyboy.” She teased him, he smiled fondly at his nickname.

“You know you really should manage this hair better.” She joked, he shrugged.

“Don't know if you know darling but the world has ended.” He reminded her, and she shook her head again.

“I don't think these alien asshole’s care how pretty you are.” He joked, she smiled at his cockiness.

She raised a brow. “Did you just call yourself pretty?” Piper jested, he patted her leg making her laugh softly.

“Shut up.” He says, smiling.

She sighed sadly, she continued to trim away at his hair. Memories of the world before had started to wash over her. She longed for the day’s of them together on the beach under the sun, laughing and teasing each other. Or when she had first met him, a bad night in the ER sent her to the Hard Deck, dying for a drink. Next thing she knew, someone had sent a whiskey neat, she looked up from her glass locking eye’s with probably the most handsome she had ever seen, straight from GQ magazine cover. Things stayed that way for awhile before she got the confidence to say ‘Hello’, and the rest is history.

“Are you still taking her tomorrow?” He ask’s her, his tone lacking any loftiness. She sighed as she cut his wet hair.

“I am, she deserves it.” Piper tells him.

“Are you sure?” He ask’s.

“Yes, she needs the chance to be a kid, I remember loving the beach when I was her age.” She recall’s. “We didn't have what she does remember.” He point’s out.

“It doesn't matter, okay, I want her to be happy.” She proclaims. He nod’s his head, he sighed looking down at the floor.

“I know you do, and I want that it’s just.” He stops him mid-sentence. She furrowed her brow, he gulp’s.

“I know you don't care what happens to you.” He continues.

“But I do.” He admit’s, her heart skipped a beat in her chest. His vulnerability came in moment’s of them finally being able to speak with one another. She knew he hated not being able to talk, talking was how he won her over, how they got the sweet little girl who slept soundly upstairs.

“I just want you….I want you both to be safe.” He admit’s somberly. She sighed, reaching her hand down, he raised his hand lacing his finger’s with her’s. The ambience of the running water filling the room.

“You're not gonna lose us.” She whispers in his ear.

"You're not gonna lose me." She promised.

His grip on her hand tightened as he blinked away the tears he knew were fighting to escape. She sighed against the side of his head, the tiredness weighing heavy on her body. If things could stay this way forever she would accept in a heartbeat,peace with him and her daughter.

She inhales deeply as she sits back up, counting to cut at his hair. “When are you y’all leaving?” He asks breaking the ice, she clears her throat.

“Some time after lunch.” Piper tells him. “Beach is about a one hour walk.” She says she takes a handful of the end’s of his hair, trimming around the edge of ear’s.

She had experience cutting her own hair, not being able to afford a salon during college.

“Hope you make it back before it rain’s.” Jake say’s. She furrowed her brow.

“It’s not gonna rain.” Piper state’s, snipping the scissor’s loud,he scoffed. “Yeah it is.” He declares, she shook her head.

“And how do you know this?” Piper wonder’s, he sits up straighter. “I can smell it.” He tells her, she rolls her eyes playfully.

“Don't give me that southern superpower thing.” She joke’s. He rolled his eyes at her teasing.

“You can't smell rain.” She chuckled.

“Yeah I can, tell me a time when I was wrong.” He challenged, and she bit her lip.

“When you were on leave when we first started dating you said it was gonna storm.” Piper recall’s, he smirked.

“And?” His tone condescending. “And it was dry all week.” She state’s, he rolls his eyes.

“No it wasn't.” He says offended. She shrugged his shoulders.

“You want to question me while I have a sharp object in my hand.” She threatened, she clicked the scissor’s close with a snip.

He put his hand’s up in surrender. She smirked at her own victory, she trimmed around the last bit of his long hair, getting it down to a short easy to brush cut.

She runs her finger’s through, getting rid of the extra bit’s she missed.

He moaned softly at the feeling of fingers through his hair. She removed the towel from around his neck shaking out into the trash. She brings her arms wrapping them around his neck and torso.

She ran her cold hand down his chest, he shuddered as goosebumps ran down each part of his body. He held onto her arms leaning his head back against her leg, looking up at her.

Her nails grazed across his skin as she brought her hand to his cheek. She inhaled deeply as she began moving her lips against his.

She felt his eye lashes tickle her chin. Kissing him upside down was not ideal, though she had to admit it was very hot. His fingers caressed her face. She exhaled as he pulled away, his breath peppering her mouth.

He rolled over onto his knees. She barely had time to catch her own breath as his mouth met her's. She closed her eyes as she ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer.

His hand trailed down her waist, thumbing the edge of her shirt. The butterflies in her stomach went crazy as his calloused fingers grazed under her bare skin. She shivered.

He slowly pushed her back to the wall, her leg uncrossing, placing one leg around his waist. He ran his hand up her thigh, his fingers playing with the elastic of her sleep shorts.

She opened her eyes as it clicked in her head. "Jake." She says breathless, pulling away.

He kept his mouth busy as he peppering kisses down neck. She bit her lip stifling the moan that dared to escape her.

"Jake." She speaks up. He finally pulled away looking up at her, his eyes meeting her's.

"What?" He whispered. She sighed looking away at the water that still ran, she would deal with the mess later.

She looked back at him. "The noise." Piper whispers back. He shook his head.

"I can be quick, if you can" He promises, his southern drawl coming out. Her heart skipped a beat, she nodded, both of them continuing what they had started.

⏁⏁⏁

THE MUD SQUISHED under her shoe’s, her grip on Alice's hand not letting up with each step they took. Piper had taken protection with them, a knife that Jake had given her for her birthday last year, carving her initials into the leather of her holster.  And a pistol, she knew there was a chance she wasn't going to use it because of the noise, but she knew with the bandit’s becoming a looming threat she couldnt be too careful. 

Alice sighed bored as they passed more tree’s, they had stuck to the hiking path laid down for them by the park service, nothing entertaining for the five year old to really look at. Talking wasn't an option for them. Piper could hear the cry of bird’s growing louder,the crashing of waves more prevalent as they walked. 

Before the world had ended, she had taken her to the beach plenty of time’s, only she wasn't old enough to remember it all.

Piper had grown up in Vermont, not even close enough to the ocean, she could recall when she first got to the beach, being twenty four and finally finishing nursing school it felt like she could take on anything that she drove straight into the freezing water.

The both of them come to a stop. She smiled softly overlooking the rocky cliff as the ocean wave’s crashed loudly below them. She turned to the strawberry blonde little girl, her jaw agape as she stared out to the shoreline. 

“What do you think?” Piper signs to her daughter, she smiles at her mother.

“It's cool.” She says, nodding her head. She turned her head to the path stairs leading down. She looked back at her.

“Want it to get cooler?” She asked her, she nodded her head, with a flick of her fingers she gestured for her to follow her. 

The wind whipped against her hair, throwing her braid all over. The cloud’s in the sky slowly turned gray as they walked down the cobble step’s. She was happy that the railing had not given way to the elements yet, as she hopped down after the last step, turning around and extending her hand for her daughter to take. 

“Careful.” Piper signed with one hand. The strawberry blonde girl slowly got onto the rocky path. 

The both of them in slow pace getting closer to the water that pulled in and out with a loud roar. She takes her back pack off, setting it on the dry sand, Alice following her lead. She puts her hand in front of daughter. 

“Wait.” Piper speak’s up. Her green eyes widened in fear as she whipped her head all around. She gets on her knees in the sand getting to her daughter’s height, placing a hand on her shoulder. 

She points at the ocean. “This is loud, they don't like it.” She explains to the frightened young girl. 

“You don't have to be afraid, you are safe here.” Piper reassured, her voice soft as she looked her up and down. The wind kissing her cheek, she looked out at the ocean to her mother.

“Let’s get these shoe’s off.” She says, velcroing her neon purple straps, sitting them next to their backpack’s.

She unzips her own jacket tossing it to the side, Alice slid her polka dot jacket off onto her jacket. 

Piper kicked off her tom’s, rolling up her pant leg to her knees. The two of them looked at each, she grinned as she picked her up by her arm’s running through the freezing water that stung at their legs.  She laughed loudly as she spun around with her daughter, her heart pounding with excitement.

“Think fast!” Piper exclaimed as she flung water on her, she squealed, flinging the foam from the wave’s at her. She yelped in surprise at her return fire. 

She looked up at the sky, the spring air cooled her as she extended her arms, taking in the moment of clarity. 

Alice wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist, she sighed deeply as she place her hand on her shoulders holding her closely, the wave’s of the ocean pulling in and out around them as they remained in an embrace. 

The two of them did all they could to enjoy their time on the beach. Alice constantly challenged her to a race to the rock’s and back, Piper didn't have to bother with letting her win as the young girl was much faster than she had expected. She went around the sand looking for sea shell’s for the both of them. 

“Would daddy like this one?” Alice wonder’s holding up a gray and blue scallop seashell, she smiled.

“He would love it.” She tells her, she laughed as she stuffed her jean pocket. Piper imagined them filled to the brim. 

The one good day she could give her meant more than anything. She knew that the young girl couldn't have the childhood that either of parents had.

Running around in the grass and hanging out during the summer with friend’s. Staying out past curfew to be scolded, playing on the playground and seeing how high she could climb to see over the city. 

She sat at the edge of the shoreline, using a toothpick she had brought along to draw in the damp sand.

She drug the sharp wood across the top, letting her hand decide the picture she wanted. Alice sat criss crossed quietly digging in the sand.

Piper’s eyes widened as she suddenly remembered. She walked over to her backpack, unzipping it. She walked back over, sitting in front of the strawberry blonde girl. 

“I got you something.” She says, she looked up, excitement in her emerald eyes. “What is it?!” She asked curiously with her toothy grin. 

“Close your eyes.” She tells her, her shoulders slumped annoyed.

“Why?!” She groaned. 

“Just do it.” She says. She rolled her eyes as she told her. 

“No peeking.” Piper state’s, she brought her little hands covering her face. She pulling the object out from behind her back, she gently removed her hand’s from her petite face, placing a soft brown toy in the palms. 

“Open.”Her green eyes fluttered, her grin widened as she looked at the fluffy mane of the cuddly stuffed toy.

“For me?” She wondered. 

“Yes, it's your’s.” She confirmed. She squealed in excitement as she held the toy close to herself in embrace. Her heart ached at her joy, she spun around on her heel’s landing on her knees in the sand. 

“Thank you Thank you!” She gushed. She wrapped her arms around her neck, she gasped in surprise, she bring’s a hand to her back holding her closely. Alice’s shoulder’s tensed up as she slumped against her mother.

She pulled away as she thumbed the of the snout of the lion, its beady black eyes staring up at her.

“Ally?” She say’s warmly.She doesn't answer, playing with the wet sand. Her green eyes softened.

“What’s the matter?” Piper asked in concern. 

“I’m sorry.” Alice say’s fiddling with a small sand castle. She furrowed her brow confused. “For what, baby?” She wonder’s. 

“The monster’s found us last night.” Alice admit’s, Piper shook her head, the five year old girl looked down at her bare feet.

“No it's not your fault.” She tells her warmly, she sits her toothpick down. 

“I made a noise..” She stammered as a tear rolled down her cheek. She shook her head. The woman slide’s over the sand, bringing her young girl into an embrace.  

“Alice, it wasn't your fault.” Piper whisper’s into her ear, softly stroking her hair.

“Don't blame yourself for anything like that, not ever.” Her voice was smooth, she pulled away placing her hand on her daughter’s shoulders. 

“This world is a scary place.”She tells the little girl. Her green eyes glistened with tears at the edges. She shakes her head gulping.

“But you are so..so much bigger and braver than it.” She stammered. 

“You are so brave Ally, and you are so strong.” She brings her hand’s to her face, gently cupping her cheek. Her pink little lip’s form a thin line smile, Piper’s used her thumb brushing a strand of hair away from her face. 

“We should go.” Piper say’s getting to her feet,the cloud’s above grew darker, puffing up with each end. The sound of rumbling above in the darkness.

“Mommy.” She spoke up.

She turned her head at her, “Someone’s watching us.” she pointed. Her brown eyes widened in fear looking at the ridge.

The shadow of a stranger peeked through the fog that had begun to roll in with the storm above. 

“Alice.” Her voice stern with the five year old, she looked back at her.

“Grab your things, right now.” She ordered, she furrowed. 

“Why? Who is that?” The little girl wonder’s. Her brown eye’s stare down the stranger on the hill.

“No one good.” She answered. She hustled around grabbing her bag’s, pulling her jacket back on. 

Piper didn't waste any time with grabbing her daughter’s hand, her pace in walking faster then her own daughter. She held her hand on the little girl , she knew that anyone who wasn't her boyfriend or was someone she once considered friend was a danger to them. The alien’s were a concern but they weren't what scared her. 

Drop lits began to drizzle onto her coat, the dirt slowly turning into mud with each step they took. She eyed the tree’s on each side, scanning for danger’s each direction. Maybe she was being paranoid, and that she was wrong about the bandit’s. 

Thunder rumbled above them, Alice’s grip on her mother’s finger tightened at the sound. Should have left earlier, she thinks. Alice hated storm’s, Piper found it ironic as the night she was born a typhoon struck the coast of Southern California.

A storm so dangerous that it flooded most of the valley leaving so much debris, and destruction that it was like a wonderland. 

She panted as she continued to speed walk through the pines. Piper used one hand to pull her hood over her head. CLICK.

She stop’s dead in track’s extending her palm in front of her daughter. 

Her brown eyes drifted down to her ankle, a thin line of metal pushed right against her, hooked up to a tree. She didn't dare to move to find out what it was rigged too. She gulped looking down at the strawberry blonde girl at her waist, she shook her head. 

“Don't move.” Piper mouthed, her eye’s fearfully looking at her, nodding at her order’s.

The squishing of mud under feet catches her attention, she looks up seeing two men wearing black clothes and bandanas hiding their faces from them.

They smirked sinisterly at her, eyeing the young woman and the little girl. The blue bandana pulled out a knife from his pocket, shiver’s run down her spine seeing the dried brown on the blade.

Hair’s on her neck stood to attention as she felt the hot breath of another person breathing behind her. She lifted her hand’s up surrender to the stranger’s, the lack of sunlight couldn't help her determine how many were behind her. 

“Which one do you want?” The red bandana sign’s to the blue one, she guessed one of them was the leader of their group.

Red’s eye’s trailed over to the auburn hair woman, looking at her buttoned up henley shirt, the clothing around his mouth moving in a circular motion. 

“I like redheads.” He signs, her blood ran cold at their signing. Her eyes darted to her right, another man with a black bandana stood next to her.

Her chest heaved up and down as her heart began to race. 

She wasn't sure what they would do to her, but to her daughter she could get an awful image. There were no more law’s or legal systems, a perfect world for sick people like these men. 

“Take the big one to the hill.” Blue order’s, red’s brow’s furrowed looking at the little girl next to her.

Red bandana looked Alice up and down, he stepped up to her, getting down to her height. Her green eyes flooded with tears at the strange man. 

His dirty hand took the lion toy out of her hand’s. Piper’s hand shook with rage seeing his dirty nail’s touching the toy hand picked for her daughter from the man she loved. She knew what to do now. 

“This one is mine.” Blue signed, her little face shook frightened. 

Piper stepped forward with a click of the trip wire, a collection of bottle’s tied together collapsed down with a loud clunk, the men’s eyes widened at the sound. Piper growled as she plunged her knife into the jugular of the black bandana. 

“Run!” Piper whispered to Alice, she grunted as her feet kicked up mud running away. The auburn hair woman swung her fist into the face of the blue bandana before she ran alongside her daughter. 

The two of them panting as they jumped over bit’s of twig’s and green’s, sticking to the path they had followed and the one they had created. Piper looked over her shoulder, the shadow’s of the tree’s of people following right not far behind. 

Piper grunted, grabbing Alice’s shoulders, holding her closely in a bridal style.

Alice’s strawberry blonde hair whipped against her face, the rain had started to become less of drizzle and more of a sprinkle. She looked down at her feet, her footprints in the mud clear with each step. 

She duck’s behind a tree, setting her little girl down. She panted with her back against the tree as her mother set her backpack down on the ground. 

“You need to run!” Piper signed frantically. She shook her head. “No!” Alice signed. 

“Stay on the path, find your daddy.” Piper declared. Her green eye’s bore into her dark brown eyes. “No.” She repeated. 

“You have to run, or they will find you.” She orders her, she shakes her little head.  “I can't leave you.” She signed her lip quivering. 

“I cant– “Alice Seresin.” She whispered and interrupted her,  she held her face. She took a deep breath. 

“You are so brave..and sp strong, and I need you to do this.” She whispered. 

Fear flashing over her face. Tears falling from eye, twig’s snap her heart racing faster. She brought her lip’s to her forehead, inhaling her scent. She pulled away admiring her daughter one last time. 

“I love you so much.” Piper’s voice breaking,She pulled away admiring her daughter one last time. She sniffled, taking a deep breath.

“Now..RUN!” She ordered. Her hair whipped in the wind as she darted away from her mother. Piper gulped as her throat tightened. She removes her knife from her holster, huffing as she turned around marching through the tree

⏁⏁⏁

THE MEN STOOD PANTING. Blue bandana stepped forward looking at the three remaining men. He kicked the dirt in anger, pacing back and forth over the cliff that overlooked the beach.

“Where did the big one go?” Red whisper’s. Blue shook his head. “Who gives a fuck!” He signs. The three men flinched at his anger, he throws his cap off his head.

“The little one, get me the little one!” Blue order’s pointing his finger at the red bandana, he nodded his head turning around following the path. The two remaining men looked at their leader, he ran a hand through his greasy hair.

“What are you gonna do with her when you get her?” Yellow bandana wonder’s, he shook his head.

“That’s for me to know.” He tells him.

“What about the big one, are we gonna auction her?” Purple bandana asks. He rolled his eyes at his question.

“Fuck her, she killed one of our own.” Blue say’s, shaking his head.

“She could be more useful than the little one.” Yellow point’s out. Blue grabs him by the neck holding him tightly.

“I dont fucking want her..get me the little one.” He whispers in his ear’s.

A gurgling sound interrupts both men. They snapped their head’s seeing purple grabbing at his throat as blood drenched his coat as he fell to the ground. With a grunt she removed her blade, she stood up looking at both men. Her eyes burned with anger at the blue bandana.

She pointed her knife at him. “You.” She signed.

Yellow eyes the woman, he charged at her, he swung his fist at her. She huffed dodging it, hooking her arm under his, he groaned in pain at the fiery hot pain of the knife plunging into his shoulder blade.

She knee’s his gut shoving him onto the ground. Blue smirked at her, slowly clapping silently at her. She vibrated with anger at his mockery.

“Now what?” he signed.

“You die.” Piper signed. He smirked at her threat, he stepped forward in a challenging manner. “Are you sure about that?” He questioned. She grunted, swinging her blade.

He jumped back, she huffed, swinging her fist in his direction, missing again. She groaned as fiery pain spread across her face, the impact of his punch disorienting her. The rain began to become heavier as the two of them fought.

She grunt’s locking his head in hold, punching him in the gut repeatedly. He grunted in effort pulling at her raincoat, removing it from her entirely. Shegasped as he pulled himself out of her hold, shoving her into the mud. Blue bandana spit’s out blood onto the ground.

“Bitch.” He grumbled, she wiped her nose as the copper taste filled her mouth. She pat’s her holster looking for her knife, her eyes widened as she couldn't feel the ebony handle.

“Shit.” She mouthed. She flip’s onto her feet, she rushed at him tackling him with the full force her body could muster, their body’s slammed onto the cold rock wet rocks.

Piper cough’s holding her rib cage, his grimy hands shoving her face onto the concrete.Anger boiled inside of her at the feeling of his nail’s digging into her cheeks.

“Fucking die already.” He grumbled, the pressure on her back becoming heavier. On the ground a reflection from an object shined her way. She shouts failing her legs in each direction, he exclaimed frustrated.

She reached out her hand for the shiny object, she gasped for air as her rib cage began to feel smaller. Her wet finger’s lace through the handle hole, she pulled it closer to herself. In effort she rolled shoulder’s spinning around.

He cried out in pain, cupping his cheek as blood began to seep out. She stood on her feet looking at the man. She shook herself off as the adrenaline pumped through her body. He yells as he runs at her, she yelps moving out of the way.

Piper turned around only to be met with a blow to the face. Her back smacked the rock’, closer and closer to the edge the both of them dualed, her knife dropped to the ground with a clink as the man got on top of her gripping her wrist.

“You just giving up, sweet thing.” His voice sneered at her, his hand slowly trailing to the button of her henley shirt, he groaned closing his eyes as his dirty fingernails pulled away the clothing separating the piece. She grunted against his weight.

He mumbled as he leaned his head back as he countied to work on the top of her shirt. Thunder cracked above her making her heart skip a beat, she turned her head, her blade laid only an inch away from her. Without hesitation her hand gripped the handle as she brought it to chest.

He gasped loudly, falling back onto the ground. Piper yelped as she crawled onto him, cutting through him with multiple blow’s, each time letting out a yell of rage. He gurgled, coughing up blood onto her face.

An inhuman cry pulled her out of her trance. She snapped her head watching the tree’s pull apart as they got closer. She pushed herself out of the way.

⏁⏁⏁

ALICE PANTED as she kept running along the pathway, her sketcher’s covered in the mud as the rain began to get heavier. The farmhouse laid in plain sight as she got closer to the fence line, only a few more step’s.

Thunder rumbled loudly, she flinched at the sound but countied to run. She had stopped only twice to catch her breath, she couldn't let her mother down, she need to find her father, to safety.

Her strawberry blonde hair bit’s were sticking to her wet cheek’s. She held her hand at her hips as she stopped finally at the white fence. On the porch, her father sat on the swing, the rain pouring as he took in the sound’s.

Her mother’s word’s sound in her head, they don't like loud sounds, water was loud at the beach, maybe it’s loud now.

“Dadd-!” Her voice interrupted as a hand clamped down on her mouth. She struggled against the person that drugged her, her screams muffled as she desperately cried for her father.

“Quiet!” The voice snapped, she grunted elbowing her kidnapper in the gut, she bit into the finger of the stranger hard. He shouted in pain as he let go of her.

“Little brat!” He grumbled.

The man cladded in red is brought to the ground. Alice gasped in surprise as a blonde man held him to the ground, making repeated blows to the face. He turned looking over his shoulder at her.

“Alice, go!” Jake order’s, she nodded her head sprinting away. His green eyes darkened as he held the man by his shirt. Rain poured down on the both of them, soaking his black long sleeve shirt.

“Who the fuck are you?!” He questioned in fury, the man smirked up at him. He shouts as she punches him. “Who are you!?” He demanded once again.

He doesn't answer. Jake growls' shoving his head against the ground. “Where’s my wife?!” He demand’s.

The man gripped the handle of his blade pulling out. Jake gripped the man’s wrist redirecting his aim, he held one hand over his mouth as he stabbed him in the gut. His cries of agony muffled by him.

“Tell me where she is?!” Jake ordered. His teeth turned red as his smirk widened at his violence. His nose scrunched up as he twisted the blade.

“Tell me!” He fumed.He coughed, spitting blood straight up at him.

“Dead..silent..like us like you will be.” He gurgled through his attempts to laugh. Jake shook his head.

“Just you.” He declares. He coughed once more as his breath slowly became a wheeze before he finally exhaled. Jake wiped his face with the back of his hand, throwing off the blood onto the ground.

He got to his feet, he grunted as he ran back to the house. His boot’s heavy on the wood as he got inside the house.

“Daddy!” A small voice exclaimed.

she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, thunder rumbling louder outside. He sighed in relief, getting to his knees wrapping his arms around the little girl.

“Thank god you're okay.” He whispered into her ear, He panted, breathing heavily. Holding her as close to him as he could. Her wet hair draped across his neck, her little face wet from tears and rain.

“Alice.” He speaks up, her breath shake’s as he pulls away, he holds her shoulders gently.

“Are you hurt, did he hurt you?” He ask’s her, she shakes her head.

He brushed back a piece of her wet hair.” Alice.” He say’s softly, her green eye’s meet his.

“Where’s mommy?” He wonder’s. She began to pant looking at the screen door, his heart fell to his stomach. He blinked as the color drained from his face.

“Oh god..oh god.” He pant’s.He gets to his feet, only being stopped by a small hand gripping his.

“Don't go!” She exclaimed. He glanced between his daughter and the door. “Please.” She pleaded.

He inhaled deeply. “I won't.” He promised. He runs a hand through his hair, collecting his thoughts.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Jake sniff’s, taking her small hand in his leading her downstairs.

Alice’s expression remained bleak, the once happy five year old who had so much to show the world driven into silence. Not even her father playing with her in the bathtub, making funny noises, brought her out.

Jake didn't want to admit to himself but knew she had experienced something awful.

He pulled her blanket over her, staying next to her as she slowly fell asleep. The storm outside didn't settle down even as she slumped against his chest. Many things were running through his mind, like what had happened when he wasn't with them, why did these bastard’s come for his family, and where is his wife.

He slowly got out of the small twin size bed, placing the purple starry comforter back over her. Sleepy soundly, he walked out of the room quietly shutting the door behind him.

His breath shake’s as he walks down the steps to the living room.

He looked around the farmhouse, the fireplace cracking and popping, the rumble of thunder outside disrupting the coziness of the home. It felt empty, he felt empty, half of his heart was gone. It was his fault, he let her leave when he knew the danger of the world was the monster’s.

Not the monster’s who hunt for sport at just the sound of a twig snapping, the real monster’s who got the sick pleasure of destroying the lives of others.

He bends down on the floorboard, sliding away the board feeling around the cabinet below for the old wood handle. He grunt’s slowfully removing the remington rifle from the space, he opened the barrel to see it was still fully loaded since he found it.

The former pilot stand’s up, in a steady pace outside to the front porch.

Lightning cracks across the sky as the rain continues its rage against the earth. In one hand he held the gun in the other, the Jack Daniel's he was scolded for finding, he sits on the wooden chair.

Staring at the dirt road paved with sand to silence their step’s. Keeping her safe was all he had now, he wasn't gonna let anyone or anything take what he had left. Thunder rumbled across the setting spring sky, his finger on the trigger ready.

A snap of a branch bring’s him out, he stood to attention, cocking the gun. His breathing steady as his heart raced in his ears. His eyes trained on the dark road, a silhouette stumbled his way. Their hair is braided, wet and tangled. He could make out the shadow of a blade in their hand, and in the other a stuffed animal.

They limped closer, the lamp on the wood post illuminating a yellow and orange hue on their face. His green eyes widened in realization, he dropped the gun in a dash towards her.

She gasped in shock at the sudden impact of his embrace. The knife fell from her hand’s, her free one around his neck.

Piper’s chest heaved up and down, shivering from the cold. Salty tear’s mix with the earthy water that fell on them. He whispered in her ear a mixture of apologies.

“You were right.” She breathed out, he furrowed his brow. “Right about what?” He ask’s, his green eyes watered over.

“It rained.” She chuckled weakly, he shook his head, his laugh vibrating against her shoulder. “I hate that.” She admit’s with a small smile.

“You love it.” Jake whispered, she nodded against him.

"Get me inside, please.” Piper pleaded with him. He complied with her order’s, latching his arm’s under her as she went limp in exhaustion.

⏁⏁⏁

SHE SAT on her side of their bed, her damp hair draped over her gray tank top. Her body shivered even with his jacket on her, her shirt had become less of a beige color and more of dirty brown from the blood. 

“This is gonna sting.” He tells her, she wasn't used to being patched up, she usually did the first aid. He dabbed the alcohol soaked rag against her split knuckle. She could feel the multiple bruises growing on her body, and she knew for sure when thing’s cooled down she was more than likely gonna be sick. 

She grit her teeth. “Fuck.” Piper swear’s, the thunderstorm allowed them to talk, she was thankful for once for him to be right about the rain. 

He smirked. “Threw a hell of a punch.” Jake commented, her lips formed a thin line.

She tried not to think about what had happened. 

“Yeah, and got a bruised rib to add to it.” She chuckled weakly, he pulled out a bandage from her first aid bag. His calloused hands maneuvered with the roll, beginning to wrap the cloth around her hand. “I taught you well.” Piper say’s, he smirked.

“I'm a quick learner.” He reminds her, she sighed leaning her head back. 

“I don't doubt that Flyboy.” Her voice raspy, she sniffed. She gazed at his face, dried blood at the edge of nose, and furrowed her brow.

“Are you okay?” She ask’s. 

His green eyes looked up at her. “Are you really asking me that?” Jake wonder’s, her hand caressed his face, warm to the touch. 

“Did they fucking find you?” Piper demand’s from him, he looks down continuing to clean her up. 

“Jake.” She says, he blink’s looking back at her. She reached down, groaning as she pulled out alcohol wipes beginning to dab away the crimson. 

“You shouldn't be doing this for me.” He says. She shook her head. “Too bad, I am.” She says, holding his cheek with one hand. “Piper.” He says, she shook her head. “Doesn't seem broken.” She tells him. 

“Pip-”You should be careful wiping around here though.” She interrupts, he take’s both of his hands, removing her hand’s from his face, looking at her. 

“Please stop.” He pleaded with her, she exhaled in exhaustion. “I’m sorry.” Piper whisper’s, she leaned her forehead against. 

“God, I'm so tired.” She breathed out. She inhaled his scent as she hugged him.  “It’s okay.” He whispers as he wraps his arm around her as she closes her eye’s, her head slumped against his shoulder. Her skin was cold and damp as he lowered her back into their bed. He holds her close to him, not letting her go. The storm outside begins to die down becoming a drizzle, he leaned over her body, turning off the gas lamp that lit the entire room. 

A/N: HOLY..I Have no word's how did I pull this off this week.

NO PRESSURE Tagged: @cowboysandpilots @bobfloydssunnies @sugarcoated-lame @sorchathered @fairyheart @senawashere @swiftsgirlfriend @nouis-bum @pinkdaisies9285 @mamachasesmayhem @senawashere @cottagecori

[billietherock]

There was no Weirdmageddon (Pt2)

By Billietherock

Chapter 1 (part 1) - Stanford Pines

Stanford Pines is a scientist living alone in Gravity Falls, Oregon. This statement seems inconsequential, stating a name and a place. If I were to even go into greater detail, like mentioning how he was in his late 20s, and he was very intelligent, so intelligent in fact that he bordered on the edge of insanity. That one false thought in the wrong direction would tip him into a spiral, that wouldn’t matter. His stubbornness, passion for what he loves, and awkward mannerisms don’t matter.

What matters is that he is Stanford Pines, and his fate is to bring a demon into the small town of Gravity Falls.

And based on his all-nighters, he may have begun to figure this out, his eyes so delirious from lack of sleep that his numbers and calculations started to blend together but this, this is the exact mindset that the demon is looking for.

The demon known as Bill Cipher started to enter Stanford’s dreams, tempting him with answers to his questions and what’s more his theories. At this point, Stanford has been communing with the demon for a while now, to the point where he can see Bill’s shape when he closes his eyes. A yellow triangle with one massive eye and gangly black limbs, arms way too long for the rest of his body. Ford’s eyes even began to sting since, as his assistant has pointed out, sometimes Bill likes to hang around in his head for a little to long.

At this point, the demon will take over Ford’s mind, after a deal is made in the mind space. Ford and his twin brother Stanley would activate a machine, one that Bill has tricked him into building. Ford would spend the better part of his life in a dimension of nightmares, only being freed by his grand niece and nephew. His grand niece would be tricked by Bill into kickstarting the apocalypse and at this point, most of the Pines family would be dead. This would be the day that a decision would be made. This is the fate the universe intends.

For now, Stanford takes a rare break, drinking black coffee on the porch of the small cabin watching as the sun hangs in the sky, unknown to him, the universe hangs in the balance, and Ford holds the final stone.

Stanford rubs the bridge of his nose, right where his glasses sit, even when taking a well-deserved break he feels his work calling to him. It makes it so that he’s hardly able to relax at all. Even the sun seems to be mocking him as the last of its golden rays starts to dip behind the trees. There was never enough time in the day to do everything he wanted to do.

Ford takes a final sip of the lukewarm coffee before pouring the rest out in the grass. He throws the mug on a nearby coffee table with a few other dirty dishes on top. Finally, he grabs his lab coat, hanging on a hook right before the gaping darkness that was the door to his lab.

As he made his way down, he could hear a familiar rustling, his assistant, Fiddleford Mcgucket. He was humming a song that was popular on the radio, tapping his finger lightly as he was analyzing the data from the last time Ford communed with Bill. Normally Stanford would start his own work before the humming almost immediately became too much for him. Then it was either an offhand comment or an irritated grunt and he would stop, but not much more than that.

This time Stanford didn’t mind the humming, he was doing his work elsewhere. In a back room away from most of the technology, Stanford stepped into the ritual room. Runes were etched on the floor, candles were placed in a circle and a single pillow sat ominously in the center. Stuff like this was why Stanford was called insane by most of the science community, there was almost nothing scientific about this, save for a machine in the corner of the room. But in a place like this, the machine stood out like a sore thumb.

Stanford paid no mind to this however, he walked with diligence as he kneels to each of the candles, lighting them one by one to make his connection to Bill stronger. Each candle lit gave Ford a shot of pain in his head, from right behind his eyes it would shoot down his spine, but this was the pain he was more used to.

After the last candle was lit, he sits himself in the middle of the ritual Circle and closes his eyes.

Outside the very last golden ray of the sun dips behind the horizon.

(Thanks for those giving me support! Once again this is a fan project and I hope you enjoy the rest as it comes out. Sorry for an Grammar or spelling mistakes)

[ltwilliammowett]

In door no. 22 we return to the Netherlands and visit another VOC ship. Namely the VOC Amsterdam

VOC Amsterdam by Ashu Mathura 2014

More about her here:

The Amsterdam embarked on its first and last voyage from the Dutch island of Texel to the East Indies in 1749, after two attempts had failed - unsuccessfully due to adverse winds. But nothing went as it should. Not only did the 203-strong crew on board have to contend with a series of violent storms, but a mutiny apparently broke out in between. To make matters worse, many crew members had already died of yellow fever, but it was probably the plague after all, whereupon the sailors began to drink excessively to prevent them from dying too.

The Amsterdam's fate was grim indeed when she lost her rudder on entering Pevensey Bay harbour, leaving her defenceless against the merciless storm. Captain Klump, desperate to save his precious cargo, dropped anchor on the coast of Bulverhythe where, remarkably, much of the keel remains to this day.

At the lowest of spring tides, the ship’s ribs are exposed, and she emerges from her peaty sand grave. From top to bottom the wreck in 1969, below in 1984 and then 2021. She is still in good condition.

A replica of the ship was built in the Netherlands between 1985 and 1990 by around 400 volunteers according to the plans of the original Amsterdam, but is historically incorrect in many respects. The craftsmen used iroko wood for the hull and orientated themselves on shipbuilding techniques of the 18th century.

However, some modifications had to be made due to modern shipbuilding regulations: In addition to using tropical wood instead of oak for the hull and decks, the deck height was adjusted so that you can stand almost upright. The frames were also glued together and the ladders were replaced by stairs. The ship was transferred to Amsterdam and is moored here near the Amsterdam Maritime Museum; it can be visited as a museum ship.

[operationtimeguard]

the unknown lore

Olivia's master's thesis was on urban legends and their origins. She believed they shared similarities with traditional folklore and picked one to illustrate her point. The Unknown was believed to be a mysterious evil so heinous that investigating it almost immediately invited death. At least that was how the story went. And there were many stories. One story was of a woman in Greenville who disappeared without a trace on stage in front of a room full of witnesses. Her friend disappeared weeks later while trying to investigate what happened. The police were stumped. They had no clues or leads, and that mystery created the perfect storm for amplifying and spreading an urban legend.

Instead of going back home for spring break, Olivia headed to Greenville to investigate. She drove to the second-cheapest motel in town and began to set up in a small room that smelled of cigarette smoke, mold, and booze. She turned one wall into a kind of evidence board. She taped up articles and various theories on similar disappearances attributed to The Unknown throughout the country. She made connections with red string and yellow thumbtacks. Anyone walking into the motel room would think she had lost her mind.

There were many theories as to The Unknown's origin. Some said it was a malevolent entity conjured long ago by an ancient cult. Others believed it to be an alien that escaped from Area 51. Legend was it thrived in darkness and stole the voices of those it consumed so as to lure others to their doom.

The first newspaper articles Olivia found referenced a disappearance at a séance held in the 1800s. In the late 1950s, several college students mysteriously disappeared from a movie theater. Witnesses saw them go inside. Some remembered seeing them in their seats. But when the lights came up, they were gone. No one saw them leave. No trace of them was ever found. A projectionist claimed to have heard voices in the empty darkness of the theater later that night. But when he turned on the lights, no one was there. Then in the 1960s a group of teens disappeared while exploring an abandoned hospital believed to be haunted.

Stories and speculation arose to explain these mystifying disappearances. Some talked about a top-secret government research program run by the Office of Strategic Services in the 1950s. Project Apple-Pie. Mind control experiments using hallucinogenic drugs. Most of the records were destroyed in the '70s, but witnesses claim that experiments were performed on unsuspecting civilians in various settings and locations throughout the country, including movie theaters, hospitals and universities. Many believed these unethical experiments opened doorways to other dimensions which allowed evil things to enter the World.

Olivia wrote observations to pin to her evidence board. The Unknown dwells in darkness and can mimic its victims. Was it an evil entity? An extraterrestrial? A failed government experiment? Or just a garden variety serial killer allergic to publicity? She wanted to prove The Unknown was nothing more than modern-day folklore. And that investigation led here to this night, to this place, to this shabby motel room.

Yet she couldn't help but notice that the disappearances in Greenville included one detail the other stories didn't. The fog. And she half-remembered another urban legend with a thick, unnatural fog that somehow made people disappear. Maybe, she mused, the Greenville disappearances didn't relate to The Unknown but some other darkness.

For a moment Olivia wondered what would happen if one urban legend encountered another. She laughed at the idea and tempted fate by sketching a picture of what she thought The Unknown might look like. Then she pinned the sketch right in the middle of her evidence board, laughed nervously and waited to be consumed by The Unknown for having tried to define it. Anxiously, she stared at the windows and front door for seconds that turned to minutes and minutes that turned to hours.

But nothing happened.

Now it was after 2AM and Olivia was exhausted as she examined the articles and sipped cold coffee. So, when she first heard the whisper, she wondered if she imagined it.

"Olivia…

It seemed to come from the bathroom.

"Help.”

The lights in the room flickered.

"Who's there?"

Olivia stared with wide eyes at the closed door of the bathroom. Her mind was

playing tricks on her. Or-

Her friends had shown up to prank her.

"Ariella? Sean? Stop messing around…”

The lights continued to flicker as she edged closer to the bathroom. Fear spread in long waves through her, and a terrible realization bloomed within her that The Unknown was behind the bathroom door, was preparing to make her pay for her hubris. Something began to whisper her name again. But then the voice rose, cracked, and distorted in sudden panic as if the brooding creature behind the door were under attack.

An unknown horror filled Olivia's heart and left room for nothing else. She breathed deeply as cold sweat beaded on her forehead. She placed her hand on the doorknob. The lights turned off, but she could still hear the strangely inhuman cries. Then the lights turned back on, and she could see a strange black fog seeping through the bottom of the door.

Hesitantly, Olivia creaked the door open to see a bulky shape with frenzied tentacles being pulled into a thick mass of fog, vanishing slowly into the darkness like a dying shadow. The shrieking stopped suddenly, neighbors banged on the wall to turn down the TV, and Olivia stared intently at the black abyss that yawned before her. She wasn't sure what to do. Part of her wanted to run. But the other part wanted to know more. And as she considered what to do next, dozens of voices began to call out to her with promises of the unknown and the impossible and of unearthly things beyond human experience.

[respectthepetty]

Because when a color demon is summoned by @negrowhat and @mggsttn's post, I show up!

Top 5 - Color-Coded Storytelling in BLs

Y'all already know what number one is, but let's pretend you don't. Instead follow me on this journey into BLs that gave the best color-coded storytelling. In order to be considered for this list:

The story had to integrate the colors into multiple aspects of the series: wardrobe, lighting, accessories, setting, etc.

The colors had to be meaningful to the plot.

The narrative did not explicitly state what the colors meant.

The color coding had to be consistent and featured in each episode.

The series has to be finished.

So let's begin!

Honorable Mention: Oh No! Here Comes Trouble

This isn't a BL (yet it's queer, so anyone who says it isn't can argue with the ghosts), but that damn red thread of fate had me and Yiyong messed up all season! The appearance of the color red in the series was less of an alarm, and more of a signal that every single moment was connected. All those single red threads that Yiyong and his unlikely crime-solving buddies weaved each episode came together at the last minute not only to solve the crime, but to stitch Yiyong together and bring him back from the edge of death because the true message of the show about fate and dying was how connection is what makes life worth living.

#5 - Moonlight Chicken

Director Aof and Cinematographer Rath never miss, but this particular story being told in this series through the symbolism and lighting depicting moon vs. sun, coldness vs. warmth, dislike vs. love, and so much more was phenomenal. Watch the scene of Li Meng holding a crying Heart in Heart's cold, blue, dark room then witness the two kissing in Li Meng's warm, orange-ish, bright living room or watch the hatred and blue melting off of Alan as he begins to find love again and you'll understand that the color coding in this show wasn't just a simple red versus blue dynamic. This was the work of PROFESSIONALS. This color coding was like tiramisu made by the best Italian chef; it had layers and was effing delicious!

#4 - My Beautiful Man

This show did several visual devices oh-so-well. We got Hira always being lower than Kiyoi. We got the duck. We got Hira capturing Kiyoi with his camera instead of being present with him. We got traditional colors but with that Japanese twist. And all of the elements worked together to give us an elite visual story. Hira was blue. Kiyoi was white. Hira was the loyal and reserved servant. Kiyoi was a god. Yet this was the point of contention between the two. Kiyoi wasn't a heavenly being. He was a human boy devoid of love. He wanted Hira to love him, not worship him. He wanted Hira to stand with him, not lower himself. He wanted Hira to live with him, not through him. So we saw Kiyoi struggle with his color when he didn't feel stable in their relationship, but once Hira made it clear that he loved Kiyoi, Kiyoi never shined brighter.

#3 - My Love Mix-Up

Nobody does colors like Japan. It color codes its ties. It leans into the religious aspect of the light versus dark color scheme. It invents new ways to color-code and is always evolving . . . like Aoki's orange color did in this series. Our disaster bisexual started the series with a muted color and as he discovered he liked a boy and not the girl he originally was crushing on, his color started to emerge. At first it was a soft yellow, but by the end, it was a vibrant orange. Ida was a solid blue, so watching Aoki's feeling deepen for him was electric each time the blue lighting lingered on his face until it overwhelmed him. Oh, and that color exchange is the best that has ever been done!

#2 - Semantic Error

This show tricked us. Jae Young played us the way he played Sang Woo, yet Jae Young's true colors were revealed as the boys spent more time with each other because isn't that the entire point of color coding? Seeing people's true colors without having to be told? Jae Young started off as red solely because quiet and introverted Blue Boy Sang Woo HATED red. That was it! That was the entire reason Jae Young became red. He just wanted to piss off Sang Woo. But as the boys worked together and Jae Young's personality shown through, Sang Woo realized Jae Young wasn't the devil he made him out to be and was actually a pretty chill Green Guy who he wanted to hug longer than two weeks.

#1 - Big Dragon

The only reason 82% of the crowd decided to watch this show was because of the visual above. Let that sink in. This one visual piqued y'alls interest enough to watch a show about a guy drugging someone to have sex with him and blackmail him with the tape of it so he could *looks at notes* get the girl? A girl?! And the guy who was drugged, almost sexually assaulted, and blackmailed was *checks notes again* HE WAS IN TO IT?!

Y'all hated this show. I loved it. Y'all think it was ridiculous. I love it. Y'all are rolling your eyes right now. I will always love it because it understood the assignment! I can't keep repeating the same points over and over, but here I go again:

Everything was color coded!

And it all supported the story. It never distracted from the story. It never became its own story. It was laced into the story. It did exactly what visual rhetoric is supposed to - show don't tell.

And it showed me when Yai opened his heart to Mangkorn.

And how Mangkorn's love transformed Yai.

It showed me that Yai's sister was his only source of light living in that isolated house.

It showed me the warmth Yai felt from Mangkorn's mom.

And it showed me that no matter how much he protested, Yai was deep in love.

And to think it all started here.

And ended up here.

That's the power of color coding and remarkable visuals.

It makes you see the beauty is in the details.

[kookblurx]

1920 - jjk [ chpt 6. ]

→ SUMMARY: a photo of a beautiful smiling boy; an old tree in your grandparents garden ... and a feeling of sadness. all those things are connected to each other ...

→ GENRE: time travel au; changing fate au; rencarnation au; university au; death; sickness; historical setting; trigger topics; smut; dirty talk; switching between present and the past.

→ chapt. 5 / chapt. 7

→ RATING: 18+

→ NOTE: HUGE DISCLAIMER, this story plays in a fantasy setting. the world YN lives in doesnt exist, neither jungkooks. so please dont mention anything just because its not historically correct. this is piece of art. so yes, jungkook wears armor like a knight and no there are no guns in his time period. thanks.

JUNGKOOK MASTERLIST ♡.°₊ˎ PLAYLIST FOR THIS CHAPTER

The Present

a grunt escaped your lips as the sun peeked through the half open yellow curtains. squinting one of your eyes, sun only became more brightly with each second. a bit clumsy you tried to reach the digital clock on the top of your nightstand. while doing so your phone got knocked on the ground, for the time being this wasnt something which bothered you. another grunt left your lips as the clock showed 8am in the morning, it was still too early to be awake. the events from last night werent present in your mind as you climbed up onto your bed. surrounded by your fluffy blanket, you cuddled deeper into the mattress. as soon as your eyes finally gave in to your tired body something shifted beside you. you didnt even had the time to turn your body around as someone grabbed your right wrist. with a strong pull, your body was turned onto your bed. automatically your eyes widened as you looked into the face of a young man who was hovering over your body. still sleepy you couldnt tell who this man was and how he got into your room.

"its really bold of you to sneak into the bed of a man like this"

his voice was husky as the corner of his lips curled up into a small smile. you heard that voice before, that soft voice. the back of your neck grew hotter as your eyes try to make sense out of this situation. slowly they travelled down on the man's body, as they reached his abdomen and you finally saw the bandages, everything clicked. last night came back into your mind as you looked back into his face. there it was, the cut on his cheek.

"I-I didnt mean to ... wait this is actually my-!"

jungkook still had his smirk on his face as he moved closer to you. one of his hands cupped your cheek before he rubbed with his thumb over your ear a bit. right now you could die out of embarrassement. the back of your neck grew hotter with each inch he came closer to you. by now you were even able to feel his breath on your skin.

"Ugh ..." escaped from your lips as your whole body twitched.

no guy ever touched you like this, at least not on your ears. while you were wiggling underneath him, jungkook clearly enjoyed the few. his thumb travelled down from your ear to your neck.

"You are really cute ... i should thank you properly for saving me yesterday" so he knew who you were, he wasnt playing around.

you were to embarrassed to even move or pushing him away. with every inch he moved closer your whole face heated up more. you surely must look like a tomato right now. before his lips could touch yours the phone on the ground suddenly started ringing. that was the moment when you regained your senses back. with a strong push you managed to get rid of jungkooks body as he fell to your right side onto the bed. but before you were able to grab your phone from the ground, Kook grabbed your wrist again. this time he pushed you behind his back as he had one of your scissors in his hand.

"Stay back Y/N! Whatever this thing is .. i wont let it harm you!" you couldnt see his face but he sounded serious.

of course he would be worried .. jungkook never saw a smartphone before, let alone ever heard of one. with a soft chuckle you placed your hand onto his wrist before you slowly remove the scissors.

"dont worry, it wont harm me ... or you. See?" as you moved over to the edge of the bed you took the phone into your hands.

jungkook widened his eyes as you were pressing something. as you finally held it to your ear he came closer. of course on the other line was none other than jimin:

"hey jimin, what is it?" "hey ... i just wanted to check if .. last night was a dream or if hes still with you?" "well, i wish it would had been a dream but he's here and healthy as it seems ..." ".... can i come over?" "sure. you will be more of a help than i am ... you know more about his family and stuff. might be helpful" "got it. see you later"

after you hung up jungkook still looked at you like you were some kind of alien. unfortunately you didnt had the time to explain to him what that phone was. it was probably better for him if you were planning to send him back. who knows what such knowledge would cause in the past.

putting the phone away on the nightstand you finally was faced with a bigger challenge: how on earth should you hide him from your grandparents.

"is ... everything okay?" jungkook sounded worried as he moved closer to you, to the edge of the bed.

it was really suprising how he wasnt confused about this new place. suddenly you remembered that he lived here, in this same mansion. maybe this place wasnt too strange to him.

"let me ask you something ... do you know where we are?" your head turned into his direction.

"... hm ... i would say we are in my mansion ... i looked out the window earlier and saw the tree but ... " for a moment his eyes looked around your room "i guess ... im not really home?"

it nearly broke your heard because of his last sentence. thats right, he was home but at the same time he wasnt. with a sigh you stood up from your bed and walked over to the closet. luckily your grandpa stored some of his "old clothes" in your closet, so you wouldnt need to steal from him. hopeful that they would fit Jungkook you chose a pair of jeans and a basic black Tshirt. of course he was wary of the pants and the shirt. jungkook was a knight and only wore linen clothes. with your help he managed to change his clothes without opening his wound again. even helping him to get dressed was embarrassing because of the stuff that happened earlier.

you couldnt ignore how well build his body was and how his biceps flexed while putting on the shirt. but that wasnt enough. the pants fitted just fine, the shirt on the other hand was too small and flattered his tiny waist too well. gulping you rushed over to the door, making sure that your grandparents werent near. in the meantime you scolded yourself for acting like a damn teenager in front of a grown ass man. yes, he was good looking but that wasnt a reason to crush on him like this.

"w-wait here for a moment okay?"

after jungkook nodded you slipped out of your room and down the stairs. the foyer was empty so you made your way into the kitchen. no one there, good. after checking the big garage you finally came to the conclusion that your grandparents must be away at the moment. with fast steps you ran back into your room, ordering jungkook to follow you down into the library. even if they would came back, that was your space. while you were here they would never disturb you by walking in.

Inside the Library:

"woah ... this is huge! ... but wait, normally it shouldnt have this much of books" jungkook walked around the various shelves as he raised an eyebrow. "can you ... maybe tell me what is going on here?"

you this question would come up sooner or later but you would have preferred it when Jimin was here. with another sigh you sat onto the ground were some of the papers were still scattered around you. slowly you picked one of them up. it showed his photo, all smiling. it was this damn photo which ruined everything. you just wanted to jump to the moment were this photo was taken. instead you ended up on a battlefield. curious jungkook sat down beside you and snatched the paper out of your hand.

"hey! wait!" you wanted to get it back but to no avail.

jungkook's face grew serious as he studied the paper "... those are ... informations about me. where do you got all these?"

"thats ... okay listen. this might be crazy but i brought you here .. this isnt 1920 ... you are in my timeline and ...here you are already ..-"

"dead."

the word sounded so bitter that it gave you a sting inside of your heart. at the same time you prayed that this revelation wouldnt change something drastically in his timeline. before you could reach out your hand, something got thrown against the balcony window. this must be jimin. leaving jungkook with the papers you ran over to the window to open it. outside you helped Jimin climb up again but as he managed to stand on solid ground again, he didnt walk inside. instead he grabbed your arm, looking at jungkook who was still reading through the various papers

"its really him huh? fuck ... i dont know how you managed that but i think we are in big trouble ..."

"you dont need to tell me that ... im already trying to find a way to bring him back as soon as possible .. but for now its good you are here" slowly you pushed jimin inside before closing the doors.

"huh? why? you mentioned something similiar over the phone earlier"

"its ... Park Jimin is you ancestor and he was Jungkook's best friend. you two look really alike and share the same name ..."

"ah i see .. you want to give him some comfort huh?"

you nodded as you watched how jimin walked over to the confused looking jungkook. as he tapped him on the shoulder a jolt went through jungkook's body. to your suprise he immediately hugged Jimin. expecting that jimin would refuse that hug you were more suprised as he hugged kook back. the scene in front of you was really sweet but at the same time your mind drifted back to earlier as kook ran his fingers down your neck. your cheeks began to burn again as you shaked your head. this wasnt the time to think about such things.

the moment you sat back down next to the guys, jimin already explained to jungkook that he isnt really the jimin he was looking for. somehow jungkook seemed to understand this much.

"so ... that must mean jimin found a nice girl and had a family with her huh?" a smile spread across jungkook's face

"uh yeah you could say that" jimin on the other hand rubbed over his neck, slightly nervous.

"what about me? are there any ...great grandkids or something from me? do i find a wife for myself!"

jungkook seemed so excited as he looked at the both of you. at the same time jimin and you could only look at each other. the fact that jungkook's family tree ended with him, made your heart feel heavy. you didnt want to tell him the truth. that he needed to die without every finding love.

"jungkook listen you-"

as jimin started to speak he suddenly froze mid sentence. confused you waved with one hand in front of his face but there was no reaction at all. this could only mean one thing. the fairy was back. suprisingly jungkook wasnt frozen and looked as confused as you.

a book got knocked from the shelve as the fairy revealed herself. her blonde hair was messy and strands of it fell into her face. quickly you stood up just to take her into your hands

"oh god what happened ... you look horrible"

"we ... we have a big problem ... HUGE PROBLEM .... " the fairy was completely out of breath.

jungkook also finally stood up from his place and walked closer to the two of you "what happened?" compared to your shaky voice, his was more serious.

slowly the fairy finally lifted her face "we are doomed .."

"what do you mean! talk to me finally!" carefully you shaked the fairy in your hands a bit

"its .. its jimin"

Taglist:

@junecat18 @hellbornsworld @stupendouscookiehumanmug