#but i've been preparing these drawings since last year

[tp2-byes]

°˖✧ 新年好! · Xīn Nián Hǎo! · Happy New Year! ✧˖°

Bonus:

[the-orange-tabby-cat]

Wednesday

joel miller x fem!reader

Summary of the fic: For the last 5 years, every Wednesday you watched a handsome man walk by your street with a lilac bouquet in hands. Except he doesn't stroll on your street this Wednesday, he shows up at your grief support group. 🐾

read on AO3 | masterlist | previous chapter Warnings: No outbreak AU, Grief and its implications, Reader lost her mom, Reader's mom has a name (but no physical description), Group therapy, Grief support group, Parent grief, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Fluff, No use of y/n Word count of the chapter: 3,7k

A/N: For the longest time I've thought "What if Joel lost Sarah anyway?" and this became the answer to this question. I have no clue about how big this series will be, but I do know I want to explore grief and loss with these two in the most delicate way possible. Hope you enjoy it 🐾

I. LILAC

Coffee. Sketchbook. Balcony. Five years of waking up early on Wednesdays, grabbing a cup of coffee, and sitting near the railings to wait for him. Like a clock, at 8 am sharp he appears by the street corner with a lilac bouquet under his arm. 

His strong profile will be the only thing in your vision for a few minutes as he walks by. You drew it so many times that you could do it with your eyes closed. The man will walk by at a steady pace without looking around (brows deeply furrowed in a “don’t fuck with me” kind of sign), focused on his way down the street.

Tall, dark hair and a patchy beard with a square jaw… He is dreamy, but also out of reach. Where is he going? Why the lilacs? Are they for a woman, his wife maybe? Every Wednesday at 8 am, never a minute late, both he and you.

As you took a sip of your coffee, you glanced over the watch marking 7:58 am, he would be here any minute. You prepared the table in expectancy, what outfit would he be wearing today? You hoped for the green shirt, but the blue one wouldn’t be as bad.

7:59 am. His hair is a little overgrown now, but you like the way his curls frame his face. The broadness of his shoulders and how tall he looks next to the other pedestrians. You aren’t sure of the color of his eyes from afar, maybe green or brown.

8:01 am and no signal of him. This is a first. Maybe you mistook the day of the week, check your phone, and… No, Wednesday still. You squirm in your seat, impatiently looking for him. 8:07 am, he never got so late. Should you keep waiting? You don’t even know his name.

At 8:30 am you give up. A wave of melancholy fills the air. Oh god, be for fucking real, are you really sad because a strange man and his stupid lilacs didn’t walk down your street?

“Don’t forget: 9 am at the gate”, you reread your grandpa's text. 

You couldn’t be able to forget it, but deep down wish you could avoid it. Cemeteries aren’t your thing, the constant reminder of the death surrounding you. However, they are Grandpa’s way of dealing with it and who are you to judge?

The sketchbook is opened at the last page you drew, with the man staring in front of him fully angered. How did you end up with over 200+ drawings of a man you never met? The doctor said finding a hobby would help and so you did: drawing. “You see what no one else sees”, your mom used to say and you decided to take a test. Too bad your eyes landed on a strange man walking down the street, holding on tightly to a lilac bouquet. Even worse he had been doing the same path for five years right in front of your balcony.  The only things in your sketchbook are his face, his hands, and the bouquet. This is your third one since you kept running out of pages.

As you put the sketchbook away, your mind drifted away to your mother’s (possible) commentary. “Don’t be silly, he will come by later, I’m sure something happened” and she, most likely, would be right. She was always right. 8:50 am and with your chest tightened from “talking” to her inside your mind, your feet landed at the cemetery’s gate.

“No flowers? Really? Who raised you, pigs?”, your grandpa said narrowing his eyes at you.

He, of course, was an impeccable mess in his hat, black coat, thin-framed glasses that gave him a Bond villainesque look. In his rugged hands a white rose bouquet, carefully made and held by.

“If I remember right, and I do remember it, we are talking about the same woman who said that flowers are for the living, not the dead.” He rolled his eyes in response but in good fun. “Why the flowers then?”

“My biggest mistake was to raise a woman a little too avant-garde, wasn’t it? C’mon, we don’t have the whole day,” he deep sighed while showing you the way. 

You knew the path, but your feet seemed to avoid getting there, that’s why you followed Grandpa’s steps in the hope of not turning around and leave. It was a little ritualistic if you were honest: Grandpa would have some kind of gift in his hands that he would leave at the tombstone, and you would pretend to do not care as you deeply cared about it. She wasn’t there anymore, she hadn’t been for a long time.

Behind his glasses, you could see a lost man driven by grief. His hands shaking as he cleaned her name at the tombstone, the gaze avoiding yours. He would always wear black on cemetery days, as if the time never passed and it was the first visit yet.

“Want to go first?” He asked, you sighed in response. “Don’t know why I still ask.”

“It’s… Fine. You know she was a Buddhist, right? She believed in reincarnation. I feel a little silly talking to her,” you confessed while chewing the lip corners.

“Oh, trust me: I knew her the same amount as you, maybe even more. She was my daughter, for fuck’s sake.” Startled, you looked at him in shock at the rare occasion he would curse. Shit. “I’m not here because of her beliefs or lifestyle. Do you quote her inside your head? Because I do too, I too remember every small detail of her. I’m here because it’s how I tell myself she isn’t fully gone. So sorry if I’m too old-fashioned and feel like talking a few words at my daughter's tombstone with my grandaughter who, honestly? Could show a little more love towards her right now. I want to talk with her like we used to at the kitchen table on Sundays, I want to bring her flowers just like I did on her birthday and there is no Buddha, Allah, or a flying horse that can stop me. Now, can you open your fucking mouth and say something nice to your mom about your week?”

Silence took the space for a second before you simply replied with, “Better?”

“Yes, a lot. Thank you for asking, now go on, please.” He adjusted his hat and cleared his throat. You hummed, getting a little courage to look directly at the tombstone.

“Hum. I got a new couch last week, a velvety green one. A little too sexy, if I might, but you would probably say I need something sexy to attract someone even sexier. Am I rambling?” You asked, raising your eyes from the stone, but he made a motion for you to continue it. “Let me think, oh, the cat hunted a pigeon. It was somewhat disgusting because of the amount of feathers in my apartment…”

“Did the pigeon survive?” He asked, in his eyes with a slight curiosity.

“Yes, but by a thread. It was her cat, a little savage just like her!”

The conversation went on easily after it. Grandpa had found some old notebooks of your mom, including one with a cake recipe he would later send to you. You wouldn’t tell him, it did feel better not because you were speaking to her, but because you could watch him relax in his uptight perpetual state. In the blink of an eye, your mind wandered to the strange man and if he ever relaxed like that.

Grief is a strange thing. It took a little encouragement from your therapist and the need to move on, but you had started to go to weekly meetings of a grief support group at the local church (the only thing that made you enter that space). The first months were awkward, you went but avoided it at the same time. Slowly, it grew on you. Five years of not missing a single Wednesday, even on vacation.

Your grandpa tried once, but it just wasn’t for him. He didn’t want to move on or find a meaning for it, he needed to feel his grief as second skin. You needed it to stop suffocating you, to scream and shout about that weight in the hope of someone taking it from your back.

This Wednesday wasn’t any different. You entered the church's back door with some cookies in hand, even if you were well aware that most people couldn’t eat as they exposed their pain, it was more of a sweet gesture than a necessity. The white walls and the cross in front of you completed the scenario.

“Cookies? You never eat anything,” Henry questioned while taking a bite. His dark eyes staring suspiciously at you.

“My grandpa found an old cookie recipe from my mom. How does it taste?” You replied as you watched him bite. You couldn’t bear to try it first, too anxious about it.

“Your mom was definitely a writer, not a chef. Taste like an old sock.” His face contorted as he spat out the cookie. Well, you tried something new.

“Yeah, no wonder I survived out of Lucky Charms and BTLs.” Henry laughed as you let go of your shoulder’s tension a bit.

The grief support group had grown and shrunk over the years. Sometimes people would feel good enough to leave the support, those were the lucky ones: grief was a period of their life, not an everyday thing. In other cases, they would get too depressed and leave before making some actual change in their being. You, unfortunately, were addicted to bond with the pain part of it.

Well, you and them. Henry was the first you met, totally wrecked after losing his little brother, Sam, to leukemia. He almost left college due to the weight of grief but kept it together, you even went to his graduation a few years back. 

Tess came later. First, her kid died and then, in a stroke of bad luck, she found out she had a terminal disease that would, eventually, kill her. She wasn’t there to deal with the death of others, but her own. She was slowly dying and it was scary as shit. Not that you would know it from the outside, she had more strength (both physically and mentally) than most.

Frank was the group leader, conducting the discussion and creating the safe spaces. Everything you had said while hugging him, no matter how bad, never came back to hunt you. Which was odd on its own, but even odder considering his grumpy husband, Bill, was the exact opposite. Everything you did said in Bill’s direction came back to hunt you right after it came out of your mouth.

People come and go, but you stay there. Grabbing your regular place at the circle, putting the name tag on your shirt, and drinking some water just in case you cry. Except today you have someone new seated across you.

His strong nose and patchy beard hint someone you do know. His square jaw tensed up, brows deeply furrowed in a “don’t talk to me, I want to go home” that you could draw with eyes closed. The name tag reads “Joel”. You were right, his eyes are brown.

It feels weird to look at him without a pen and paper in hand, but it feels just right to see his features up close. Tess brings him coffee - black, you noticed - and gives him an eye silently saying “Don’t fuck it up”.

The meeting starts, Frank asks who is there for the first time. Joel and a woman, Hannah, raise their hands.

“It’s tradition to introduce ourselves at our first meeting. You don’t need to tell the details of why you are here or who you are, just simple information that people can distinguish you from the rest of the group.” Frank explains to a tired Joel, who sighs in response while Hannah overshares who she is.

Of course he doesn’t want to be there. Nobody wants to. You wish you could leave every time you cross the door, but know that the moment the meeting starts to develop you will want to continue in that deep state of pouring your heart out.

“I’m Joel, my friend Tess convinced me to come. That’s it.” He simply states, loud and straight. You catch Frank laughing.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to push you a little on it. Why did you accept to come here?” Joel furrows even deeper at the provocation.

“I didn’t. She trapped me.” Tess raises her very blonde eyebrows at him, who snaps. “You did trap me. Call me saying it was an emergency, I go to your house expecting the worst and you lock me inside there until the time to come here after I said I wouldn’t go to a grief support group.”

“See? He is an asshole, he needs this.” She answers Frank, making sure he gets her points. Your mom was right, something had happened to him.

“So, Joel, why are you here still?” Frank subtly asks.

“I beg your pardon?” Joel’s eyes are softer now, getting caught off guard. He doesn’t have any argument for it.

“Yes Joel, why are you still here? I’m not trapping you in this char, nobody is holding you down.” Tess retorts her mouth in his direction, that scoffs and looks around the room. When his eyes look into yours, you smile coyly unable to retain yourself.

“Sir, please continue.” Accepting defeat, Joel crosses his arms around his chest, fully ignoring Tess's triumphant smile.

“You are free to leave at any point, no need to tell us why. But I guarantee that if you stay, you might learn we aren’t that bad.” Frank nods in his direction, gaining a hard sigh. “Let’s start. Before every meeting, we say out loud the names of those who have gone to allow ourselves to think about them without shame, remorse, or guilt. You know the drill, Henry?”

“Sam,” Henry says firmly.

“Abigail,” you speak loudly.

Another silly little gesture, but you do allow yourself to think about her after it. Every single time. It’s almost as if the weight of her, the one that you carry around all day and pretend isn’t there suffocating you, comes to sit by you, not on you. 

“Teresa,” Tess points at her.

“Sarah,” Joel almost murmurs looking at the ground. His hands are fidgeting, his mind in another place. 

You have been there, you know how strange it is to say it for the first time out loud after a while, sounds forbidden and partly awkward. You aren’t supposed to say it to strangers, it’s sacred just for you, and yet, here you are saying it to whoever wants to share this pain with you.

You wonder if Sarah liked lilac flowers.

Some people speak about how they dealt with grief during the week until Frank asks you how the cemetery visit went. The group knows that meeting your grandpa there gives you a chill up the spine.

“I think I forget that he is allowed to grieve as he needs. I know all these little parts of her, how she lived her life. I’m quick to fight because she isn’t here to defend herself. I’m not even sure she would like for me to defend the memory of who she is… Sorry, was. Of who she was.” You swallow dryly, trying to ignore the miswording. “He bought her flowers. She always said that flowers were for the living, not the dead, and yet, he bought her a bouquet. I got frustrated, felt like he was trying to put her in a box of who he wanted her to be.

“He put me in my place quickly, even said fuck.” Henry makes some noise in surprise, you nod agreeing. “Exactly, it dawned on me: the flowers are for him, not for her. Just like his grief and how he needs to express it is only for himself, not for me to judge. I think he misses her more than he tells me. If I could go back in time, I would have implored him to cremate her and stop this nonsense of going to her grave, checking her tombstone, giving her damn flowers.”

“Maybe the flowers are his way of saying out loud that he cares too. She was his daughter before being your mother.” Joel speaks out loud, getting your full attention. His arms are still crossed, but now his eyes are lost in thought, almost as if he didn’t want you to hear it.

“Maybe. I just wish he allowed himself to stop pretending she is still here. I want to think of her without feeling guilty that she isn’t. He is too busy missing her to notice that I’m missing him.” You answer locking eyes with Joel, who chews the corners of his mouth, once again deep in thought.

“Maybe he doesn’t know how to do it, need help.” His voice soft, just like his eyes.

“Maybe.” You give in, feeling that Joel isn’t speaking about your grandpa. You swallow as you remember the lilacs.

The meeting runs smoothly. The group finishes by drinking coffee before parting ways. Frank is chatting by the corner with Joel, who is running a hand by the nape of his neck. Curiosity gets the best of you and, before you can stop, you question Tess.

“Who is Sarah?”

“A million-dollar question, huh?” She teases as she sips her sugary coffee. Henry looks between you two, waiting for a response. “You both haven’t heard from me, I’ll deny til death that I’ve ever said it. His daughter, she died a few years back. He hasn’t been the same since. That motherfucker goes to her grave every fucking Wednesday.”

“He visits her every Wednesday?” The number of drawings of Joel walking down your street early in the morning with a lilac bouquet makes more sense. His face, his fast speed, how he ignored everyone that walked by, how he never noticed you at your balcony.

“Yes, she died on a Wednesday, he relives that event every week since.”

Frank walks in your direction, Joel right behind him looking everywhere, except your face. If he only knew how much you have looked at his face before.

“I recall you haven’t been a mentor yet, right?” Frank starts and you nod, curious about where he is going. “Amazing! You’ll have your first newbie. Joel, you’re in good hands.”

He leaves before you can say anything, whether yes or no. Fuck. Joel is confused as well, still looking like he would rather leave. You open your mouth and go grab your phone.

“Sooooo… How was your first meeting?” Flipping through your phone until find your own number isn’t a good move to show that you are smart, trustful and worthy but right now you only want to avoid his brown eyes.

“Pass.” You blink at him. “I won’t keep chit-chatting. Cut to the chase.”

“Oh damn, I thought you had softened a little with time.” He fights the urge to roll his eyes and you smirk at him, reading him like a book. “I’ll give you my number in case you need someone to talk to. And yes, you can call me anytime you want to. And no, I won’t get your number. You come to me or I won’t come to you.”

That entertains him a little. It was the first rule of your mentor, she made sure you would look for her and not the other way so you could understand when and what triggered you. Joel just nods as he saves your contact.

“When did you first contact your mentor?” He questions, sounding genuine in his curiosity.

“Diet Coke, couldn’t drink.” The furrowed brows are back, so you continue. “My mom would mostly only drink Diet Coke, after she passed away I would buy canes just to open and hear the sizzling. Couldn’t drink otherwise would vomit from stress. It was really hot and I craved one, made that call and drank it.”

“And you drank the whole thing?” His soft eyes are back and you feel a little foolish for thinking that he could have green eyes, not when the dark brown suits him so much.

“Yes and vomited right away. Still, it was worth the shot.” You smile and for a fraction of time, he smiles too.

He doesn’t call right after and neither shows up at the grief support group. You still draw him, but from memory, the last time you watched as he strolled your street it was three months ago. Something about his grief seems too personal and you feel awkward invading that space, instead, every Wednesday at 8 am you find another thing to do. It isn’t as easy as it sounds, ignoring his handsome profile and the lilacs on his hands, but you allow his privacy. 

The only reminder of your favorite habit is the sketchbook at the table and the fresh lilacs decorating your balcony.

Time goes by slowly and too fast, the weight of your mom still at your back as the life surrounding you goes on its course. You almost forget about him until a Wednesday morning, 8 am sharp, your phone chimes and you pick up at the first beep.

“I can’t eat pancakes. I hate pancakes, but she loved it.” He softly says and you stop everything to listen.

“You made from scratch or store-bought?” You phrased it like it is an important question. He hums back on the phone.

“Store-bought, don’t know how to make the batch. She straight up bought only the mix.”

“Would you eat with her, despite not liking it?” Your hand slides the paper, creating his silhouette line after line.

“Yes.” He simply answered, as if it was the most common question in the world.

“What are you waiting for? Take a bite.” 

And he does. The chewing sound from the other side fills the phone, your hand keeps drawing him in his overgrown hair, almost as if you could see the scene right before your eyes.

“So, was it worthed?” You ask looking at the draw as he finishes his plate.

“Still taste disgusting.” He soft replies after a second, you snort and he laughs. The sound is the most delicious thing you’ve ever heard. next chapter

[17caratssi]

My darling, honey pt 2 ; Jeon Wonwoo

part 1 is here!

You had been married to your teenage crush for three years and it was a wondrous journey added to the fact you just learned that you'd swallowed a watermelon seed.

Wonwoo was still working his ass off during the weekend and after he returned, you began preparing some light breakfast for him.

While he waited at the suffice dining table and stared at your back, he repeatedly expressed his regret as he was unable to spend the weekend together.

"It's fine. We have a lot of time together, don't dwell on it," you reassured albeit knowing he won't feel any better. Wonwoo became one with the silence and you were already used to it. He never spoke unless it was about you or something you asked for his opinion.

You finished with the cooking and he did the plating. Last night, he worked for only four hours but since he was called in the dawn, he felt sleepy quite a bit and you were the opposite.

As you both were eating, he looked at you oddly. You ceased to stop and raised an eyebrow, indicating your curiosity. "Are you done? Just leave the plate and go resume your sleep,"

Wonwoo shook his head and held your hand. Perhaps his palm was radiating so much warmth, you leaned forward in the coziness. "Hun, do you have something to tell me?" you asked.

Presented with ambivalence, Wonwoo took a minute to reply. He thought deeply before saying, "Don't you think I've been resting a lot these days?"

You could tell he was dourly asking. You have read it somewhere that if the husband loves his wife so dearly, he will experience early pregnancy fatigue rather than the wife. Thinking about how it related to his situation, you grinned.

Wonwoo smiled as if he was entranced by your reaction. He gave a gentle rub on your cheek and patted the back of your hand. He then told you to go upstairs and rest as he helped with the dishes.

You didn't refuse and went as he directed. There was nothing in your brain than the thought of how you should tell Wonwoo about your pregnancy.

While you pondered, he already completed the chore and got himself ready for the shower. Wonwoo looked bushed and you pitied him. After he came out from the wet, you beckoned him to the bed. Since he had changed his clothes inside, he didn't waste any time and ambled to you.

"I have something to tell you,"

Wonwoo hauled your whole body and answered. "Yes?" he was feeling cold and decreased the gap between your bodies. Seeing how comfy he appeared, on impulse, you straddled him and laid on top.

He took a different hint and whispered. "You want it?" Wonwoo asked with apparent lust. You let his hands explore your back but when he was getting dangerously near to your sensitive area, you grabbed his wrist and put a halt to it.

"We can't. Someone will see," you said. Attentively, Wonwoo kissed your neck and mumbled. "The outside? I'll draw the curtain," he sounded titillated and you honestly underestimated your own self-control. It was such a turn-on to see him inflamed but your conscience rushed in.

"No. Not outside but here," you brought his hand to your belly and reposed. Wonwoo didn't quite catch the periphrastic way you were telling but once he realized, the sparkling bright eyes shone even more brilliantly.

"Is it what I think it is?" he asked softly, almost audible. His palm smoothed around your belly and he looked at it. Wonwoo didn't need to ask twice as you clarified his question in a single nod.

You and Wonwoo had waited for 3 years and were confronted with many thrown doubts regarding your fertility. It wasn't something anyone can forget and take it lightly and so you began seeing specialists every few months to check on your body.

At first, Wonwoo did argue with you about it and at one point, you gave him a cold shoulder for a week. He wasn't easy to be persuaded but one day, he followed you for your regular check-up. On the way back, you requested to ride the bus instead. You two came by taxi and Wonwoo has no problem granting your wish.

After you picked your seat, Wonwoo got to his and sat quietly. You were having mixed feelings about today and leaned against your husband. "Are you alright?"

Wonwoo's response was fast but did not answer the question. He kissed your temple and said. "Let me know if you're going to your appointment next time. We'll go together," his mellow voice sang sorrow. You looked up to see his face and there hidden a hint of sadness in his beautiful eyes.

The journey home was blue that day, he knew his love for you was deep but not as much as the worries within.

Wonwoo was used to your prank and all but this news would never be one of them. After many attempts and tears, you two were gifted with a sunny revelation. He let out a light-hearted laugh and announced. "You're pregnant,"

"Y/N, you're pregnant!"

Wonwoo continued to have couvade episodes until the second trimester came by. Your belly swelled later than most women you knew. They told you it was normal for your bump to be small and even your husband assured you there was nothing to fret about.

Once it got bigger, you felt shy to stand bare naked in front of Wonwoo. You even made a fuss when he wanted to shower with you. "No, it's ugly. You will hate it,"

You only earned his grimace and a company for the bath. Wonwoo hissed as he smeared the shower gel over your body. His dissatisfaction was then voiced out, "How can you say this hideous? I'm the hideous one,"

You glared at him and covered his mouth. "Don't say that. It'll make it sound like I don't have a taste for marrying an ugly man," and that had Wonwoo cracked, you followed suit.

Out of blue, you felt something poking behind you. You flicked his head and pinched his waist. Flustered, you sheepishly exposed him. "Why are you getting hard?"

"Ignore that. You're just too sexy and I'm a pervert,"

"Yeah, a pervert," you chuckled with your hands fondling him already.

You and Wonwoo didn't have extensive exercise the whole pregnancy, fear if you'll get hurt. However, one night, you woke him up wanting to do it. He did it so gently that you squirmed around and begged him.

"Go harder.."

"No, honey. You're near due,"

Wonwoo had a hard time practicing abstinence in your later weeks. He hadn't done it for almost a month and he thank God for not testing him too much. Seeing how seductive you acted that night, he went out of his principle and pleased you.

He was feeling bliss all over but you were his priority. He felt the familiar sensation inside you and he smiled. "Come for me," he knew it won't take him long to bring you an orgasm. He kissed your neck and thrust a few times more before he had you ended.

Panting, you loosened your arms around his torso and asked. "Did you come? Don't lie to me,"

Wonwoo was about to tell a lie when you added. He didn't dare to ejaculate inside after he learned that semen can cause contractions. He then flashed an apologetic smile at you. "I can use my hand,"

Wonwoo never used his hands and you've long known. That hurt your heart even more. You pushed him off and got up to wash.

Whether you were pregnant or not, Wonwoo wasn't close to tranquil if you were in the bathroom for a long period. He knocked on the door for the third time and asked if you needed any help but you chose to not answer.

After a while, you finished and silently left the bathroom. The sky was still dark and your husband wasn't in the bed. "Wonwoo?" you called him, slow-voiced.

Where did he go? Is he mad when I threw tantrum just now? You felt conflicted. He rarely let you sleep alone when he's home and now he did. Rather than furious, you wanted to see him.

But even after the nth time of calling him from the room, he still didn't reply. The after-sex effect kicked in and you began to yawn. No sign of Wonwoo getting into bed and you retired soon.

As soon as you hit the pillow, you couldn't open your eyes anymore. Having no desire to resist the sleepiness, you fell asleep and Wonwoo returned home to a sleeping wife.

He put the bag of condoms in the cabinet and properly snuggled against you on the bed. He had taken a shower downstairs before going out but he was afraid you'd wake up to his smell. It happened before and you had him slept on the floor the entire week.

Wonwoo stared at you as you fell deeper into slumber and fixed your position. Your round belly looked adorable and he recalled the moments when you cried because your swollen feet hurt.

He had hurried home that evening and massaged your legs with his uniform on. "Hubby," you sniffed, wanting his attention.

"Yes?"

Your face poker and you stayed silent for a good five minutes until you broke out of character. "I love you," you confessed out of nowhere.

With your nose running with a snort, Wonwoo laughed and hugged you. "Honey, if you keep being like this, I don't know how to survive,"

Wonwoo had lost count of how many times had he rushed home because you called him crying. He was always worried even though he may have an idea of what was happening.

Little things that you do to gain his attention basked him in elation. His love for you has grown impassioned and somehow anticipates the baby to come into this world of his and yours.

Before it reached dawn, Wonwoo was first to feel the wet bed and woke up. In a daze, he didn't quickly stir you but rather checked the ceiling.

However, it was your moaning had his head turned to you, full attention. "The baby- I think the baby's coming," you winced as you spoke. He can tell from your labored breathing that it must hurt.

Fortunately, you had been reminding him to get the maternity bag ready in his car. You were around his arms as he carried your weight to the car and placed you gently in the backseat.

As he drove to the emergency department, you told him you can bear the pain but he wasn't buying. Wonwoo got out and called for a team to attend to you. They instantly brought all the necessary equipment to the vehicle and performed the procedure.

Wonwoo was guided to the registration counter and while you were pushed into the waiting hall, the only thing that kept you conscious at the moment was his arrival.

You wanted him to be by your side so badly and if you suddenly had an emergency labor without him, you honestly would cry.

Perhaps, the baby wished to see his parents immediately, you were out into labor just several hours after that, and Wonwoo was permitted into the room.

The entire process was both scary and exciting for you. On one hand, you fret if you are drained out of energy while pushing the baby out but on the other, your husband was very collected about the whole situation.

"Honey, we can see the head already. Just a little push and we're going to meet our child,"

"I know you can. Grip my hand tighter as you push,"

You didn't know what was along his sentence that moved you but tears ran down your face and you made your last exertion in his presence.

The loud wailing was an end to your suffering. Wonwoo stayed with you and only when the midwives called to cut the umbilical cord he came about.

Days after you had the little one downright changed but Wonwoo never stopped giving his unreserved attention to both of you. He would promptly take care of the child in the middle of the night since you'd had it in the morning when he was out to work.

It was a challenging period as it was Wonwoo's first experience as a father. He took a lot of advice from his parents and other people and in the blink of an eye, the child is now two years old.

At first, many said that the baby took your features but he seemed to be the carbon copy of his father. His first word was 'mummy' but all he called now was 'daddy'.

"Daddy, pick me,"

"Daddy, toys,"

Daddy here, daddy there. You couldn't help but feel bitter inside. You and Wonwoo did spend equal time with your son but his blatant preference made you green. But maybe part of him inherited from how clingy you were to your husband. “He’s just like you, Y/N,”

He gifted a peck on your jaw and smiled softly. Suddenly, a voice from the little one chimed in. “Mummy, no!” and cause a rupture of laughter from the adults. You teased him by giving his favorite person more kisses. “Daddy’s mine,”

Wonwoo will never have this memory faded. He’s glad that you confessed to him that day.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

If you like this story, you might as well check out the others here !

[scuderiasundays]

time after time

summary: years of yearning ending in a fiery release 🧨 written with lennon stella's cover of "time after time" (one of my all-time favorites) on repeat!

words: 1315

a/n: those b/w milan photos gave me the final push i needed to get this out into the world! the first time i've written anything this long so i would appreciate any and all feedback 🫶🏼

September 2012

"I bet you could convince my mom to let me go." It was a picturesque night in Madrid as the words slipped out of his mouth. Gathered around a table adorned with colorful tapas, Carlos and his friends celebrated his and Y/N’s birthdays over Gambas al Ajillo and pints of Estrella Galicia. Sat across from Carlos was Y/N, his best friend who he had grown up alongside. The aspiring Formula 1 driver had been away for months, leaving behind his beloved hometown. Tonight, their tight-knit group had unanimously agreed to refrain from discussing anything related to motorsport, but Carlos couldn't help but come up with hypothetical situations that ended in successfully persuading his mother to allow him to race in Macau, a city an astonishing 10,497 kilometers away.

Would Y/N ever gather the strength to say no to those velvety brown eyes? The evening had quickly gone by, and Carlos and Y/N bid farewell to their friends, commencing their walk back to the Sainz residence. “Mama, look who I’ve brought home.” Reyes’ face lit up upon Y/N’s arrival at the front door. If ever a motherly instinct surged within Reyes, it was when she witnessed the two little ones growing up, sensing deep down they were destined to end up together. Reyes had been like a second mother to Y/N and had always gotten her a birthday gift of her choosing. “So, what shall it be this year?” Reyes beamed. “I want to use this year’s wish for Carlos, if that’s alright. He’s worked tirelessly this season and it would kill me if he didn’t get to race in Macau.”

“Carlitos put you up to this, no?” Reyes chuckled. Drawing Y/N into a warm embrace, she assured Y/N that Carlos could race at the Macau Grand Prix, so long as he stopped pressuring his best friend to speak on his behalf. To make up for her son’s foolishness, Reyes allowed Y/N to blow out the candles on the birthday cake she’d made for Carlos since she had virtually used up her birthday wish on him. Y/N closed her eyes, silently praying that this would be the year Carlos would come to his senses and realize she’s been madly in love with him this whole time.

July 2020

"You're not coming to Mallorca this summer?" Y/N could sense Carlos’ frustration seeping through the phone. It wasn't that she didn't want to go, of course she did. Summers in Mallorca were pure bliss. The refreshing gazpacho Reyes prepared, the laughter-filled board game sessions with Carlos' grandfather, and the exhilarating late-night padel matches with Carlos, Ana, and Blanca. There was cause for additional celebration this summer as Carlos had made it through the treacherous F1 silly season unscathed, securing a seat at McLaren. However, a mixture of the demands of residency and an unspoken truth kept Y/N from wanting to spend even a single moment with the man she had termed “Summer Carlos.”

Summer Carlos was carefree, bronzed, and exuded warmth. Summer Carlos was the Carlos who had drunkenly kissed her three summers ago, leaving her heartbroken when he acted as though nothing had happened the following day. The memory still stung, and Y/N wasn't sure if she was ready to face those emotions once again.

July 2022

Caco, Carlos' older cousin, had graciously invited Y/N to join them at the Silverstone Grand Prix. After managing to secure a weekend off from work, Y/N was euphoric escaping the sterile confines of the hospital. As she walked into the motorhome, a mix of emotions swirled within her. It had been months since she had last seen her best friend. Her job kept her tethered to the emergency room, while Formula 1 had taken Carlos across the globe.

The initial words that escaped Carlos' lips were, "You look pale, like you could use some Mallorcan sun." Y/N couldn't decipher whether he genuinely wanted her there or not. The uncertainty lingered, leaving her unsure of where they stood after all this time apart.

Eager to avoid being in anyone's way, especially Carlos', Y/N decided to take a stroll around the paddock. Lost in her thoughts, she ran into Lando, Carlos' former teammate, who recognized her immediately and approached with a friendly smile. "How've you been, Y/N? We miss you over at McLaren.” Y/N had tended to Lando after his Eau Rouge crash during qualifying in 2021, forging a close bond between them.

A faint smile appeared on Y/N's face as she replied, "Maybe I'll seek refuge at McLaren's hospitality this weekend since it seems like Carlos doesn't want me here." Lando chuckled in his characteristic way, the sound putting Y/N at ease. "You and I both know the man is terrible at expressing his feelings. He's probably just yearning for you because you've been too busy saving lives. Trust me," Lando reassured her. "I'm running late for a meeting, but I'll catch up with you later, okay?"

Y/N's mind was filled with curiosity, trying to make sense of Lando's words. Carlos pining for her? It seemed impossible, given their history and the distance that had grown between them. Yet, a flicker of hope ignited within her, and she couldn't help but wonder if there was more to Carlos' aloofness than she had initially assumed.

Y/N's phone buzzed, and her heart skipped a beat as she read Carlos' message: "You and me in my driver's room now." Her hands shook as she knocked on the door, waiting for his response. "Come in," he replied, and as she entered, she couldn't help but notice how he made the fiery Ferrari red his own.

"You can't just waltz back into my life whenever you feel like it, Y/N. Race weekends are sacred to me, and you showing up out of nowhere is a distraction. It's not like you even care about me or my career anyways. When was the last time you watched a race, hmm? Dr. Y/N is always too busy at the hospital."

Y/N wouldn't allow Carlos to lash out at her like this, not after all the sacrifices she had made. Countless sleepless nights on call, choosing to stay awake to watch Carlos race in distant cities. Collecting every article featuring him since his karting days, carefully preserving them in a special scrapbook. Being there for him in his darkest moments, answering late-night calls when the pressure almost crushed him.

"You can't push me away that easily. We both know I've always been there for you, to the point where I didn’t even know who I truly was when you reached Formula 1 and left Madrid," Y/N said. "I only bury myself in my work to avoid facing the emptiness that hangs over the city when you’re not around."

Carlos felt a pang of pain as he witnessed his best friend break down in front of his eyes. Had he truly misunderstood everything all along? Y/N's words pierced through his heart. "I’m all yours. I always have been," she said, her tears dampening her sleeves.

In an attempt to console her, Carlos whispered softly, "Don't cry, princesa. Mama will kill me if she finds out I made you so upset."

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle through her tears. “Well, go out and win this race for me, and I'll promise not to snitch.”

“For you, anything,” he said.

“And for the first time in Formula 1, Carlos Sainz is victorious! He wins the British Grand Prix!” The electrifying announcement filled the air as Y/N ran from the garage to the podium. As Carlos emerged from the car, his eyes searched for one face in particular. With both hands, he gently caressed Y/N's face. Without hesitation, he pressed his lips against hers, years of longing exploding in a passionate release. The two of them radiated a golden glow, as if destiny herself had brought them together, time after time.

[nightprompts]

&. 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 (𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧) 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

( dialogue prompts taken from episodes 1 & 2 ( "romance dawn" & "the man in the straw hat" ) of the netflix live action one piece series. feel free to edit and change as you seem fit. )

❛ do you have any last words? ❜

❛ the sea's been calling. well, not exactly calling, because i pretty much can't swim, but you get the idea. ❜

❛ so what do you say? are you with me? ❜

❛ liar! i know zoro must be after me. who else is worthy of his pursuit? ❜

❛ who's the most powerful pirate on the seas? ❜

❛ first things first. do you have any food here? ❜

❛ you don't look like a pirate. ❜

❛ i'm not afraid of getting hurt. and i'll prove it to you. ❜

❛ i don't get it. why would anyone want to be a pirate? ❜

❛ you have the wind on your back, the salty sea air, your loyal crew by your side. you never know what's on the horizon. it's all about being... free. ❜

❛ you should never let anyone tell you what you can't do. ❜

❛ well, remember the name, 'cause i'm gonna be king of the pirates. ❜

❛ people often visit shrines to light candles for those they've lost. who are yours for? ❜

❛ you've been following me for three days. what do you want? ❜

❛ look, i've been practicing what my face is gonna look like on my wanted poster.❜

❛ i've no doubt your mug will be on a wanted poster one day. ❜

❛ all he did was spill a drink on me. ❜

❛ you should've fought back! why didn't you kick his ass? ❜

❛ not everything can be solved with violence. a man needs to be strong, but he also needs to be good. ❜

❛ you're not a real man. you're nothing but a coward. ❜

❛ you ate a devil fruit? ❜

❛ ever since i was a kid, i wanted to protect people that can't protect themselves.❜

❛ if that's what you want, i think you should do it. i'll help you out. ❜

❛ my crew was attacked by pirates. i barely managed to make it out alive. ❜

❛ rice balls. for you. ❜

❛ you shouldn't draw your blade unless you're prepared to use it. ❜

❛ don't kill me, please. my father will give you anything you want. ❜

❛ i'd say you live up to your reputation. ❜

❛ what's up with the third sword? i mean, where does it even go? ❜

❛ what do you say, puppy? do you want to do a trick for me? sit up and beg. ❜

❛ i kill your kind for a living. ❜

❛ i mean it. i don't owe you anything. ❜

❛ you are going to get us both caught if you keep stomping around this place. ❜

❛ that was amazing. admit it. we do make a pretty good team. ❜

❛ so why did you decide to become a thief? ❜

❛ i needed to eat. you do what you have to, to survive. ❜

❛ you're right. nothing is more important than food. ❜

❛ all great fighters call out their finishing moves. ❜

❛ i don't work for you. ❜

❛ i'm sensing a little bit of tension amongst the crew. ❜

❛ before we met, every choice was made for me. but now i'm gonna do what i want to do. ❜

❛ next time we meet, we might be enemies. but for now... we're friends. ❜

❛ i'm feeling so... so piratey. ❜

❛ well, you're gonna end up feeling watery if i have to throw you overboard. i told you i need absolute silence. ❜

❛ don't mess with my hat. ❜

❛ oh, i'm sorry. were we interrupting your beauty sleep? ❜

❛ don't like what you see? look away. ❜

❛ you have a lot of names. i bet everyone in the east blue knows who you are. ❜

❛ are you making fun of my nose? ❜

❛ i know your type. if there's nothing to gain, you're out. ❜

❛ truthfully? i'm kind of hungry. ❜

❛ who are you trying to impress? a lost love? an absent parent? or was it someone that you worshipped? ❜

❛ i used to know a pirate that wore a hat just like this. ❜

❛ for a time, i even thought we were friends. until he betrayed me. just like all the others. ❜

❛ he wanted to keep me out of the spotlight! he wanted to keep my star from shining too brightly! ❜

❛ is that what he did to you? did he betray you, too? ❜

❛ you can slice me and you can dice me, but i'll always put myself back together again. ❜

❛ i've been thinking about you for years. ❜

❛ i know you're upset, but you should eat something. ❜

❛ you're never not hungry. what's going on? ❜

❛ you can spill a drink on me and i'll let it slide, but don't you ever threaten my friends. ❜

❛ you can't make people love you. just like you can't make them smile. ❜

❛ you really think anyone is coming for you? they don't care. and no one is gonna miss you when you're dead. ❜

❛ get lost. ❜

❛ i'm just glad that you're okay. ❜

❛ what was that? i couldn't hear you over all the drowning. ❜

❛ you really don't fear death, do you? ❜

❛ what's the plan? you do have a plan, right? that's your thing, plans. ❜

❛ you want out? you know the price you have to pay. ❜

❛ you want a piece of me? let's see what you got. ❜

❛ i think i'll miss you most of all. ❜

❛ we're gonna be the greatest pirates the world has ever seen. even greater than your crew. ❜

❛ this hat is the most precious thing i own. it means the world to me. and i want you to take it. ❜

❛ when we meet again, you can give it back to me. ❜

❛ is every day gonna be this crazy with you? ❜

❛ if the path to what you want seems too easy, then you're on the wrong path. ❜

[mewtwoandme]

So...a bit of a sad announcement today...I'm hoping this isn't the case, I made an appointment for Wednesday to talk to the vet to get a second opinion, but for those of you who know, I own a bearded dragon, and unfortunately the past few weeks he has been showing the signs of possibly passing away soon...He's 8 years old, gonna be 9 around Christmas if he makes it that far, so for him, he's an old lad. I'm afraid the vet is gonna tell me what I don't want to hear, but honestly, I've been preparing myself for this since he started developing issues last year. Despite that, it's still painful to think about. I've been doing what I can for him in the meantime, doing my best to keep him comfortable, though lately, he has become very unresponsive...Because of this, I have no idea where my mental state is gonna be at for a while, cause, honestly, it's now just a waiting game for the inevitable. This has already been taking a heavy toll on my emotional state, and it's been weighing on me and I've been fluctuating from being okay one day to feeling depressed or crying the next...

As far as the blog/story, I'm not sure if any of my plans are gonna change. As of right now, I don't believe they will. If anything, continuing to draw will provide a necessary distraction for me. As far as Blu arriving in December, I still intend for that to happen. However, I did mention awhile back that he'd probably arrive sometime in January if I was late on it for any reason. So don't be surprised by that happening if my bearded dragon happens to pass away between now and December. Cause I'll likely need some time away to mourn properly. No matter if it's a cat, a dog, a bird, or a reptile. Pets are just as much part of your family as your own flesh and blood relatives, and there's nothing more heartbreaking than knowing you're losing a part of your family. To me, it feels like I'm losing my baby. I know I can't compare losing a reptile to losing a human child, but the similar feelings are still very real.

Of course, I'll update you all whenever it happens, and I'll let you know if I choose to take a break during that time

[lynaferns]

The Forest On The Other Side

Chapter 1: I want to go home.

Ver. [ENGLISH / SPANISH]

A girl gets lost in the forest and finds a misterious gate in the middle of nowhere. At the other side she meets a... very peculiar individual who seems to only want to befriend her and play. Everything seems fine. Until night falls and someone else joins to play...

Again, I appreciate feedback about the english adaptation. English is not my first lenguage and I still mess up sometimes.

This is in some way a more "joyful" story than BIOMáquina, still with its dark themes. I wrote this a year ago. By this I mean I forced myself to get it written down and ended up hating it and burning myself out. A couple of weeks ago I decided to reread it and I though it was pretty ok actually, so I edited it a bit to make it flow better. It used to be written more as a script for the comic I wanted to draw buuuut that didn't happen (cough stressed myself out cough forced myself cough don't force yourself to make content out of a hobby, a hobby is supposed to be for your own fun). I'm not completely satisfied with the final draft but I think is good enough for my first ever fic written.

I originally planned to make it a Y/N thing but that didn't last long. But I keeped the original idea of the first person POV. The Y/N stories I've read has always some narrator telling you what you do insert you in the story. I thought of making the MC the narrator, this way the reader can insert themselves like it's their story or they can read it as if someone else is telling them a story. This is also a bit limiting, since the narration is also the MCs thought process and sometimes I may skip details MC couldn't have seen.

AU, Magical forest, DCA centered, Sun fnaf, Moon fnaf, Elves Sun & Moon, OC, Selfinsert, Character & OC, platonic, friendship, slowburn (kind of), Moon is agresive at first, Moon is also a bit of a gremlin, Protective Sun (I think), OC is a potty mouth, Female Main Character, First person, Angst.

The first post where I showed this AU and my first sketches ideas.

Tumblr archive with all of the art, ideas and anwsered asks.

Youtube Playlist which I'm pretty proud of how it turned out :] It's in a specific order but you can put it on mix.

Note: even though I try to keep things light some things may be triggering for some readers.

CW: Anxiety, Suicide ideation, Implied death, Choking, Non sexual abuse.

Wordcount: 9,700 (It's not rounded, that's literally the number Word tells me it's at lol)

Welp.

Here we are again, in the old village house (yey...). Well, 'I am', my family won't arrive to settle in for another week. They brought me here beforehand a few days ago for organizational reasons. They took a quick look inside before they left to see the state of the house, if it needed any repairs and such, and they headed back to the city. While they finish preparing everything, I take care of the house and text them messages about anything that may be needed for when they return.

We haven't been here in years, the house needs some repairs, and I'm sorry for the spiders, but it could use a deep cleaning. We can't do a deep cleaning but I have been cleaning what I can these last few days, at least so that it looks decent... at first glance.

Well, it's not like anyone is coming to visit.

It's a quiet town, until the kids from the town next door come to make a racket with their bikes. They play in our field, scare away the cats and throw cans around. They are assholes.

Anyways, the people in the village are nice. The adults I mean, the kids I used to play with, I don't get along with them anymore. Some of them aren't kids anymore, we have grown up and are going down different paths. But those who are still kids... they're still interested in the only older kid in the town who listened to them and let them do whatever they wanted, to a certain extent.

I don't want them to come looking for me to go out and play. I've been avoiding them by saying that I'm busy cleaning the house and getting it ready for when my family arrives, but I feel like interacting with them less and less. That's why I'm going out to the woods behind the house to get lost for a while, as always. The kids don't go near the forest so they won't bother me there.

There is an area for tourism and hiking but not many people come, some police cars border the forest from time to time but they never go inside. The reports of missing people in this forest have been coming in for decades, only some lost children have returned but there is no trace of any of the adults who disappeared along with the rest of the children. The areas marked with signs are safe but you can't go out of bounds unless you want to disappear with those people.

And I, who right now am alone and with no one to notice my absence if I go missing, am going to head straight to the forest. Don't you think, I don't want to disappear, I just don't like people and I usually go into the forest but I don't go too far away. As long as I see my house in the distance, I know how to return.

I grab my bag with my sketchbook and pencil case, in case I feel like drawing (probably won't) and step out to the back porch. The outer sliding metal door that protects the inner one is rusty and difficult to open. It would be better to oil it but I don't know when it will be done, considering that the broken railing has had a wooden board tied to it for years. I already sent my mother a message talking about it.

I enter the forest and start walking around. It's hot, of course, it's early summer, but it's quite noticeable after being in the cool inside the brick and stone house. That's the good thing about coming here in summer, the houses are made to stay cold inside and it's great, sometimes I even need to wear a jacket. But outside I'm dying, the trees don't provide enough shade. In fact, some trees are missing. I used to have my routes memorized but time has passed and some paths have changed, some have disappeared and others have formed. I admit that it makes me a little sad... I began to walk absorbed in my thoughts not paying attention to where I was going.

I'm walking away, I should go back. I'm not going to draw anything here anyway, and it's hotter outside than inside so I'm gonna to turn around-

I hear screams and laughter in the distance, the sound of the voices produces me an immediate disgust. It's those kids from the next door village. They must have come to 'investigate' about the disappearances or maybe they don't care and they just came to be idiots-

They're getting closer.

I don't want them to see me. God. Don't let them see me. Anyone but them. They're getting closser. Don't let them see me. I can't go back home now. They're cutting me off. Of all the people who could have found me. It had to be them. No, please. Don't let them see me. I have to go further into the forest, I can't let them see me. They're getting closer. Don't let them see me. I want to leave. I want to leave. I'm getting too far. I want to leave. I don't see my house. I want to leave. I don't see the village. I want to leave. I don't see the kids.

...

...

...

Where am I?

Fuck.

Where am I?

I want to leave.

I want to leave.

I want to leave.

I want to leave.

…

—

Now I'm wandering through the forest. I don't want to go back. I want to get out of here. Even though I'm walking in a straight line I feel like I'm going around in circles, and I'm not going to get out of here now. Great. I'm lost. Now what? People who get lost in this forest don't return, no one has returned except for some children.

...

I'm going to disappear.

...

For now I keep walking until something happens. Maybe there's an animal that kills people who get lost, or maybe it's a group of kidnappers, or maybe I should stop giving myself anxiety and focus on getting out of here. Maybe if I find a field or road, or even the tourist area, I'll be able to get out of here and return bordering the fores-

...

There is... colorful graffitis on the trees. Someone has painted eyes, hands, stars and more on the bark of the trees...

What's this?

I don't know where I've come to, I didn't know this was here, in the middle of nowhere in the forest. The trees have red leaves like in autumn even though summer has just started... The first thing I thought was 'climate change's fault' but there is something that stands out in the middle of this entire flat area and it is disturbing me.

In the center there is a kind of circular gate made of stones supported by roots.

Okay, maybe it doesn't sound aaaaas disturbing as, I don't know, a totem with a human figure being impaled or something, but it's giving me a bad vibe. What is this place? Who built a stone arch in the middle of everything and why?

A bird appears flying from behind me and goes through the gate, but nothing comes out on the other side... wait what? how? The bird has crossed the gate, and disappeared behind the stone arch? ...I had to imagine it, it's not possible that that happened. I approach the arch but not before picking up a rock from the ground and throwing it to the other side of the gate.

It's still there.

…

For some reason the thought of going through the gate makes me uncomfortable, so I go around it.

...

...And the rock? It's not there.

I go back and look from inside the portal.

The rock is there.

...

I look from outside. The rock is not there. I repeat this multiple times. Rock. No rock. Rock. No rock. Rock. No rock... What?

Alright, this is weird, this is VERY weird.

Even though it is clear that this isn't normal, I have to go back, pick up a fallen branch from the ground and pass it through the portal. This time I don't throw it, I've grabbed a branch long enough to see it peek out from the other side of the arch.

...

Welp.

I should be seeing not only the branch, but also my hand sticking out of the side, but I'M NOT SEEING IT. OKAY. OK. ALRIGHT. IT'S CONFIRMED. THIS IS WEIRD.

I'm asleep, right? Or unconscious. I must have passed out from exhaustion from endlessly wandering through the woods and I'm delirious or something. No, wait, it can't be, in my dreams I'm not this aware of what's around me. Where am I?

A breeze begins to pass through the gate. It's getting stronger but not enough to push me. The leaves rise from the ground and float towards the portal, none slipping outside, all entering through the stone arch. Suddenly the breeze that had become wind stops. The leaves fall to the ground.

...

I look back for a moment, as if there was something behind me that could help me make a decision. Grabbing with both hands my bag strap I look back at the portal again. Okay. Alright. This is possibly the death of me. I'm going to cross. I'm going to go to the other side. I'm just one step away from crossing. I wrinkle my face and narrow my eyes before taking the last step.

...

Nothing has happened. Everything seems the same. However, I know it's not the same... Or at least it doesn't feel the same!

Well, I've already crossed. I'm gonna... keep walking, I guess, even though this is scaring me and I don't know if I'll know how to go back. For now I'm moving forward. The red leaves have disappeared several meters ago. It's starting to look like a normal forest, except for the multicolored drawings and handprints that I keep seeing on the trees. In fact, it seems like the trees are taller with every step I take. So high that I can barely see the top. I almost tripped while looking up. Whether this is the same forest I come from, I no longer know.

This was a bad idea. I just hope to find something that'll help me know where I am, a sign or the road if possible.

*cling*

...?

I hit something with my foot. There is a ball attached to a small chain on the ground. Oh, no, wait. *cling diring ding* It's a rusty bell, I think. It doesn't have the typical cross-shaped hole or slot, rather it has several holes in a pattern. It looks like it can be opened.

There's nothing inside.

?

There's nothing? But I could have sworn it had rang. I close it again and shake it.

*...*

Nothing.

I'm going to put it in the bag, it's totally a good idea. I'll think about it later, for now I'm moving on.

—

I've been walking for a while now and throughout this time I had a constant chill on the back of my neck, as if someone had their eyes on me.

*din dirring* I hear a soft tinkling in the distance.

Okay, I'm not alone, awesome, what do I do now? Do I say hi and risk the potential danger finding me? Do I ignore the sound of bells and keep moving? It's very possible that whatever made that sound is watching me right now...

“Hello?” Still nervous, I try to say hello looking around “...” “Is someone there? H-hello?”

“-HEEEEELLO!”

“AAAAAH-!” I cover my mouth with my hands as I turn to look at what the hell has greeted me back. I take a few steps back while I look at the figure of earthy and sunny tones who responded, he seems as surprised as I am, I think (with the scream I made, normal), at least it looks like he's surprised. He wears a two toned wooden mask... it looks like a sun, with a crescent moon on its right... It gives the impression of two faces merged into one... Damn, he is tall, he's almost doubles my size. He appears to have two skin tones dividing him in half, his right side being the lighter and the left darker, especially the arm, which also has a light-colored tattoo of lines representing a sun symbol that covers from the shoulder to the pectoral and to the middle of the bicep. The right arm is covered by a long fingerless glove that reaches to the shoulder and is tied around the chest. He's wearing baggy pants with leaves coming out of the waist and legs, some... cloth boots? with a long toe bending sharply and curving in a geometric swirl with a bell at the tips, a bag hangs from the waistband of his pants and falls below his hips. His chest and neck are tied by ropes decorated with hanging stones, metals and crystals, he wears a pendant that ends in a carved symbol of a crescent moon with rays. Some of the 'sunrays' on his mask have ropes tied between them holding them in place and some metal dangling. Some red ribbons along with bells hang from his wrists.

“um... Helloooooo.” He greets again, this time he lowers his tone of voice. I manage to react, I turn around and walk away. “¡ah- eh- Wait!” Nope, I'm not going to wait and see what he does with me, I'm leaving. “He-! Hey!” Nope. I quicken my pace and try to get lost among the trees, changing direction every time he appears in my vision angle. “Human? Human-! FRIEND. Can I call you friend?!” Nope, nope, nopnop, nop, nop, nope. “Friend! Hey!” God, no, god, god, no, why are you following me? “Look, I know what you're trying to look for...! And believe me, you're not going to find it~!” How are you still following me? Where do you come from? “Hey! Listen! Why don't we do something else besides running in circles!?” Noooooooooo... “There are TONS of other activities we could do! Like... HOLY MOLY, look at this stick! Do you like sticks!?” Leave me aloneee... “You aren't looking at it! Okay, alright, you don't like sticks, erm... what might be of interest to you...” If I don't look at it it doesn't exist. “Could you help me a little here?” I want to leave... “Look, no matter how much you wander around, you won't find the portal-!”

“STOP—! STOP FOLLOWING ME! LEAVE ME ALONE!” The sudden scream startles him again, making him jump in place. He stands completely still looking at me. I'm leaving before he gets angry.

“B-but I- ...okay.” I thought I heard him say before I left him behind.

It seems that this time he's not following me, finally... Although I'm not calm, he could still be following me and simply not be in sight. Anyway, I think I'm coming back? I hope I am. I want to find that portal as soon as possible and go back to the house- what the fu-? “WHY?”

He's there. Right where I left him. Sitting on a rock. Waiting. “...! I haven't moved from the spot!”

“Yeah- but- WHY?”

“Because I knew you were going to come back here!”

“...What?”

“Is what I was trying to tell you! You can't leave! No matter how hard you try to find the portal, it won't appear before you!” The Sunman exclaimed.

“…” I'm just about to turn around. In fact, I'm already turning around.

“N-No, wait! Please don't go!” I stop in my track and look back at him. He gets off the rock he was sitting on but remains squatting, almost at my height, a little below. I move back, keeping my distance. He puts his hands up. “Look, I'm not doing anything! I won't chase you! Just- ...don't go.”

“…”

“L-look, listen, there's no way it's going to show up! Well, not to you at least. But even if you find it back, it won't work! It only works when it wants to work.”

“...” Let's imagine that I trust what he says “Ok... and when does it want to be working?”

“...” “No idea!”

“...”

“...”

I'm about to collapse on the spot. At least he doesn't seem hostile, for now. “...” “Okay... Good... Great...” “...” “FanTAS-tic.”

“...” “You don't seem like it.”

*ಠ_ಠ* I could only look to the side in frustration in response to that. I looked back at him with concern showing on my face and grabbing the strap of my bag with both hands. “And... what... do you plan to do with me?”

He took his hand to the chin of his mask and with the other he held his elbow in a comical thoughtful pose. “MmmmnnDUN know! What do you plan to do?” He asked so nonchalantly. He ended up sitting on the ground crossing his legs. “You have a good while until the portal opens again...!”

“...”

“...”

“...”

He started swaying. The silence has become uncomfortable for a while now, but I can't organize myself on what to say, and I don't know if I trust him. I don't even know if he's human, although something tells me he's not.

“You could wait here.” He suggested, breaking me out of my thoughts. “Or anywhere else, if you want. I would recommend somewhere high like the treetops (for no particular reason)! If you're going to wait... But wouldn't that be really boring?” There was something in his tone of voice... “Being there... at the top of a tree... waiting... alone... with no friends to hang out with (can I call you a friend?). Aaall on your own until the portal opens again.” He looks aside for a moment “...” And back at me again. “With no one to be with you.” He repeats the head motion “...” “alone...” Wow... I wonder what he's implying, ahem. “Wouldn't you want to have someone...? ...Someone...keeping you company?” Yeah, yeah...

“...” I guess... “I-I guess I wouldn't want to be alon-?”

He rises to his knees. “That's what I thought! Do you want me to accompany you? Only if you want! But can I?” He clasped his hands together as if asking a favor.

“um...”

“Can I?Can I?Can I?Can I?Can I?Can I?Can I?” He approaches, dragging his knees on the ground.

I'm starting to miss personal space. “Okay! Okay, alright...”

“REALLY?” He started hopping and jumping around me. “OH, ohoho hO! Great! Oh, there are TONS of things we could do! Like... Like...!” He moves faster, doing bigger and bigger flips and jumps, it almost seems that he is very light, as if the breeze of air lifted him. “We could paint and decorate trees! Or we can also paint on rocks! Or paint leaves! Or paint us! Oh! We can tell stories! I'm very good at making shadows and puppets.” He moves from place to place with each sentence he says. “We can also play something!” It's moving so fast all I can see is the wind and the leaves it stirs up as it moves. “Anything! Whatever you want!” Finally he stopped in front of me half crouched. “What do ya say?! Hmm! Friend!?”

“Don't... call me like that.” Makes me feel awkward.

“Oh...why not-? Oh true, true! How silly, I don't know your name! What do you call yourself, potential friend?”

“...”

“...” “Aren't... you gonna tell me your name?”

I twist the bag strap “Depends...” I must say I'm a little skeptical about this. “Are there any consequences for telling you my name?”

“...Consequences...?”

“Like... I don't know... Mmm-by telling you my name I become your possession and cannot regain my freedom until... certain conditions are met...”

“...”

“...”

“Why- how-? Where did you get that from!?” It did sound a bit stupid when I said it out loud.

“I dunno- that's what they say in old children's stories about elves and fairies!” I just hope the embarrassment isn't showing on my face.

“Really?” I could feel his deadpan expression behind the mask.

I shrugged.

“...” “Okay... Oh, what if I tell you my name first? Will you tell me yours? It's only fair, I'm Sun!”

“...”

“Can I know your name now?” He asked expectantly.

“...How do I know you're not trying to trick me?”

“...” I must be driving him crazy with this “The only thing I can do with your name is treasure it in my memory.” He put his hands together as if he was carefully holding something and brought them to the forehead of the mask. I gave him a distrustful look. It doesn't seem like it made him desist “Please?”

I grip at my worn out bag strap “...” “ Fern...” I ended up murmuring.

“Hmm? Fern? OH, I like it!” “Sounds like FRIEND.” He emphasized the last word by making a gesture like jazz hands, leaning to the side and moving his head closer to me.

“Yeah... I think you are missing a couple of letters.”

He straightened his posture again. “Nope, I don't think so!”

“You're still not my friend.”

“Oooowwwwwnnnnnggghhh” He lowers his head dramatically until it practically touches the ground “nnnnnnngggghh, alright!” And cartwheels to stand up again “So... what will it be?”

“Hm?”

He straightened his posture and puts his arms on his hips “We have plenty of time, ya? What do you wanna to do?”

“I don't know, what do you want to do-?” Bad mistake.

“Come with me!”

“aaAAAAA-!” Before I knew it, he had grabbed my arm and I was being dragged through the woods. We visited several places and he offered me an activity to do in each of them.

—

Sun took me to a place where the trees were full of colorful paint “We practice painting on the trees here!” He said.

“Ah.” That explains the crossed out lines and the repeated imperfect shapes. By the look of it is also where he tests the quality of the paint.

“Do you want us to paint something!?”

“Not really...”

“Oh, would you prefer it to be on a rock?”

“Nah.”

“...And in star leaves-?”

“I don't want to paint, Sun.”

“Oh... Well, I can show you more places!”

“OkayyEEEEEE-” And I'm being dragged away again.

—

He brought me to another area of the forest, the ground here seemed more leveled. Not a single tree was straight, all of them were twisted and even seemed to be hollow. “How about playing something!? Like hide and seek-! No, wait, I can’t let you out of my sight.” He mumbled at the end “And chase?! We can climb a tree and see who reaches the top first! We have a place full of vines and it's perfect for swinging- and jumping from one tree to another-!”

“I don't... really want to move a lot…” With the way he runs without getting tired and me, who doesn't exercise... he would let me dead.

“Oh... well, theeen-”

—

We arrived at a place full of vegetation and humidity. Sun seemed quite excited... “This place is full of insects! We can look for cool bugs!”

“Mmmmmnoooo... I don't want to.” I had to tell him, trying to show as little disinterest as I could.

“You don't like them?” He sounded a little disappointed hearing my reaction.

“No, I do like them, some of them, but I don't like to touch them.” And I'm terrified of them flying into my face.

“Oh, well, it's okay!” He said brushing it off and we moved on to the next stop.

—

“I know that bird!” He stopped us on the way to point at a robin high up on a branch.

“ah.” I said as I removed leaves from my hair and clothes, and checked that I still had my glasses.

“He's a little rascal!”

“...” I think the bird is making us the equivalent of 'mooning'.

—

“Look fish-! Oh, they're gone…” The noise must have scared them away “We can go find more places to look at them if you want!”

“...” “...no, pass...”

“…”

—

“Look at this stick!” Sun had suddenly sprinted past me, picked up something from the ground, and came back just as fast, showing me the stick as if it were a sword.

“oh.” It's a cool stick, must admit it.

“Do you want to look for more sticks!?”

“No...”

“oh...” He looked at the ground in disappointment.

“Why would we go looking for sticks? There are all over the ground.” Specifically, in this area the ground was all sticks. We are literally just stepping on sticks right now. I don't see the ground.

“Variety!” Sun said pointing at the ground with both hands. A branch is heard falling in the distance.

—

“That's a deer!” He pointed at the deer passing nearby. The deer stopped to look at us.

“Yeah, I see.”

“We call 'em Adoquín!”

“...Why is it called Adoquí-?”

*THUMP!*

“…”

The deer smacked itself against a tree when trying to run away. It stands still for a minute, processing the hit, looks at a side and then the other, then runs off again but this time avoiding the tree.

Another *thump!* is heard in the distance.

“...” Alright.

—

“Do you wannaaaa look for pine cones? There will be some fallen around here. Oh! We can also look for mushrooms!”

I keep saying no to everything he suggests and it doesn't look like he's going to run out of ideas to pass the time. In fact, he's very insistent that we do something. I guess at some point I'll have to say yes to something. “...” “...okay...”

“Hmm?! Okay? Okay to what?” His exaggerated surprise offends me but I don't blame him.

“To... I don't know, pine cones?”

“...You don't look very convinced.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“OKAY! On the hunt for pine cones then!” I startle a little at the sudden shout. He makes a pose pointing in a direction, as if he were leading an expedition.

He takes me through the forest looking for pine cones. We aren't finding many, especially me who's not paying any interest. He tries encouraging me to put more effort into it but I keep looking at my boots.

We passed near a shingle river. I find a pebble at my feet and bend down to pick it up and take a better look. It's like a bluish gray, it has some reddish lines in the shape of waves, it feels good to the touch.

I hear the soft tinkling of a bell and feel a shadow fall beside me. “You like pebbles?” Sun is crouched next to me with his arms full of pine cones.

“…” I nod.

We go down to the river and spend some time collecting pebbles with curious shapes or small details of colors, lines, spots, etc. He comes over to show me one every time he finds weird shapes.

“…”

*rin* This time he's hunched over resting his hands on his knees. “You look… a little down.”

“…”

“Hey... we can do something else if you're tired of the pebbles.”

“...” I drop the pebbles I was looking at on the ground.

“...” He turns his gaze from me to the sky. It hasn't gotten late enough to be getting dark, but it's been a while between the walks we've taken (dragging me from here to there), looking for pine cones and then pebbles in the river. He looks back at me. “Oh, I know! Can I take you to one last place? A better place than the ones I've shown you!”

“…” I got up from the ground and waited for him to start leading to follow him.

We enter the increasingly thick forest. The trees are taller and bigger, in fact, I start to see platforms and bridges lying between the trees, I even see small shanties in them.

“Wait here!” He takes a run and jumps onto one of the trees with bridges. He takes three steps running up the tree, with a jump he pushes himself off and climbs with agility until he reaches the platform and climbs on it. “Just a moment!” It can't be seen from here but I can faintly hear some squeaks. I have no idea of what he's doin-

*rush*

“........eh?”

A rope.

A rope has fallen. At the level of my head.

“.......”

What?

…

He said he knew a better place.

No. It can't be this.

“Is it at a good height?! Can you reach it?!” He says...

It can't be.

A better place.

He can't be referring to this.

A better place.

A better place. A better place. A better place. A better place.

“Can you put your foot in?!”

“..........” For some reason what he said throws me off. “WAT-?”

“Can you put your foot in the loop and hold on to the rope so I can pull you up!?”

“..............”

“You can't climb trees, can you?! ...or you can?"

… “...” Oh “....It's...It's too high!”

“Okay!” Squeaks are heard and the rope descends to the ground.

I put my foot into the rope as he told me and hold on to it. “O-okay...!”

“Are you ready!?”

“Yes!”

“Okay!”

He begins to pull up the rope (which doesn't tighten around my foot as it supports my weight) and helps me up to the platform. (That's what it was for, obviously, what else would he want? I'm such an...) “Come on!” He says cheerfully, as always, and takes me over the bridges. “You seem tense... Don't tell me you're afraid of heights!”

“S-something like that... it's nothing.” He tilts his head at that but he says nothing. I have an unpleasant sensation in my throat.

We arrived at a high place with a view of waterfalls, I can't see above the trees. We sat on one of the bridges, resting our arms on the rope that serves as a railing and letting our legs hang off the bridge. I've thought about taking out the sketchbook to draw... but I don't really feel like it right now, so I just quietly observe the landscape. It is a better place, yeah.

…

I feel watched. I turn to look at him ...Of course he was looking at me. I don't even know whether to say something or keep quiet. ...I decide... not to say anything and look to the front.

“You... aren't very talkative, huh.”

“…”

“Not that it's a bad thing! Many people who have come here weren't very talkative at first either.” More people...

“...” “I have… nothing to talk about.” I don't want to talk.

“...” “Well, I do.”

“…”

“If it's okay with you, of course.” He laughed. Although something tells me that he is going to talk anyway.

“…”

“...” “What brings you to the forest?”

“...” Really? “I got lost.”

“Yeah, I already know!” He says between laughs “But what made you get lost?”

“...” “There was a group of kids I didn't want to get close to and I decided to go into the woods to lose them.” He makes a 'hum' sound and looks at me expectantly waiting for me to continue “And... I ended up getting myself lost...”

“...” “Only that?”

“...” “Well, yeah.” What do you mean 'oNlY tHaT'?

“...Mmm...” He places his hand on the chin of the mask.

“...” “What?”

“Nothing!” “...” “You know? You're the first human to visit the forest in a loooong time. For several cycles now…”

“Cycles?”

“Mhm” He nods.

“...What are cycles?”

Sun points to the sky “The turns that the Moon makes in the sky!” He emphasizes by rotating his arm in the air. It's pointing right at the Moon that's visible in the sky.

“Oh...” He uses the lunar cycles to know what day he's in, makes sense. “...” “So no one has been here in a while.”

“That's what I said! Well no, but yes!”

“A-and so the humans who came are still here? Have they been here all this time?”

“Yeah...! Well, no!” He paused. “They're gone!”

“What do you mean they're-?” He didn't let me finish the question.

“They are gone! They 'left'!” It sounded like he had given this answer many times already.

“What do you mean they left-?”

“They 'left'!”

“...” “...You mean...they disappear-?”

“Nope!” “...” “Something like that!” “…” “Mmmore or less…” He hesitated between one answer and another.

It seemed worthless to ask about the missing people. “...okay.” “Can I ask you-?”

“You can ask me anything!” A hint of nervousness escaped his tone.

“...okay. What is this forest?”

“My home! And the home of many other animals.”

“...” “Alright, and... how many are you...? How many of you live here? I mean. You have taken me everywhere and we haven't seen anyone of your…” I make a pointing gesture, spinning my hand around in the air. He can't be human, it doesn't look like he is. “...” “Honestly, I don't know what you are.”

“...” “There's only me... And someone else!” He looks away, as if trying to hide something.

“Oh... and who's that someone?”

“Oh! N-no, don't worry! He’s… just a friend… But it’s not important that you meet him or anything!” He brushes it off making a gesture with his hand. “Uh-um- How about we talk about you!? huh? What things do you like? Earlier, since you said no to everything, I thought you didn't like ANYTHING!” He continued talking without letting me respond. “I didn't know what to do if I ran out of ideas. I started to worry! But at least you're not one of those who spend all day shouting and threatening with a weapon in hand, ahaha...” He let out a nervous laugh.

“Um-”

“Well, you ran away screaming, yes.” He began to gesticulate widely as he complained “Like everyone-! No, not like everyone, some don't run, but those who, apart from running and screaming, attack you...! I mean...!” Something tells me he wasn't going to shut up and I was already half listening. “First they throw rocks at my head, then they insult me and run away. And I have to run after them because I can't just leave a human running around alone! No! I can't! Not in this forest! Anything could happen to them! But they never let me warn them!” He sounded tired. “And when I get them to stop running away from me, they throw things at me again and yell before demanding me to tell them where are they and how to get out of here, and when I explain it, they yell at me even more and accuse me of lying!” He turns to look at me with his hands pointing to his chest. “What reason would I have to lie?!” I don't know if he hasn't noticed or if he's ignoring the deapan I responded with. “UGH! I don't know what to do with those! But anyhow... I'm so glad we found something to do in the end!

“eh?” I snap out of my thoughts. It seems that now he is directing the conversation to me.

“The pebbles!” He sits turning his body towards me, leaving one single leg hanging from the bridge and the other resting on it. He takes out of his pocket some of the pebbles that he had been collecting with me. “I don't know why I assumed you wouldn't want to look for rocks. Maybe because you didn't want to paint them before... You left them back in the river in the end tho, I thought you would keep some.”

“Ah... I don't know. I didn't think I could take them with me.”

“You can keep some of mine!”

“No, it's okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“You suuuuure??” He insist.

“Yeees.”

He puts a pebble very close to my face “Suuuuuuuure?” Each 'u' sounding higher than the last.

“...” I push the pebble away from my face “Yeeeees.”

“mmmh... Okay! But I hope you don't regret it later when you don't have a cool rock like these and think 'Oh man, I could have a cool rock right now!'.” After a bad impression of me, he keeps the rocks in his pants. “So... Besides pebbles, what else do you like? Mm? I haven't been able to deduce much from today.”

“Don't know.”

“What do you mean you don't know!? Oh! Is it a secret?” He approaches and starts to whisper, putting his hands to the mask's mouth “I won't tell anyone, promise.”

“No. I don't know.” I looked to the side. “I can't think of anything... so suddenly.”

“ooow...” He slumps a little over the railing, looking sad.

“…” I hesitate whether to say something or not “...Drawing...”

“Mmm?!” He no longer seems sad.

“And listening to music, I guess.” “It's... all I do... most of the time.”

“Really!? Oh! I also like drawing! And music! But is that really all you do all day? Don't you do other kinds of things? Like reading! Or writting. Don't you go out for a walk or play with your friends?” I wrinkle my face at that last bit and he tilts his head in confusion.

“I don't go out.” “I have comics, but I rarely read.”

“Comics?”

“Um... They are stories but instead of narrating what happens there are drawings and only what the characters say is written.”

“...It's a book with drawings?”

“Yeah, but with a lot of drawings on each page, from start to finish.”

“WOAH.” He sounded perplexed. “That's drawing A LOT.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Ahh, I'd love to see what they look like.” He rested his arm on the railing to hold his head in his hand “Too bad I can't…”

“I didn't bring them anyway.”

“Do you normally carry them around?”

“No, it's just that I didn't bring them to the village with me, I left them at home.”

“...” “Oh!” It seems that something has clicked on him. “You are not from the village.”

“No, I'm from a more urban area. My family used to come to the village every year in the summer, but we stopped coming. Now it seems that we are trying to get back into the habit.” I sighed.

“Why did you stop coming?”

“...That's personal.”

“Oh... okay.” He let a minute of awkward silence pass. “Hey, I can bring some books that I have at home! I think you might be interes-!” He looks away from me to the sunset behind us, the sun is almost gone. “-ted...” I look at the sunset too and then at him with confusion. “...” “...oh...oh-OH, Oh-no!” He stands up abruptly causing the bridge to shake slightly. What could have he seen? “We have to move!” He extends a hand to help me up. “We have to start moving!”

I get up in a hurry on my own, ignoring his hand. “O-okay, to where?”

“Come, run!” Once again he grabs me by the arm and leads me over the bridges between the trees until we reach a tree hut. It's small and dark, it looks like a small shelter. He opens the door and enters “You'll spend the night here, stay inside, do not go out, try to hide well and don't open the windows or doors, okay? Here, there are some blankets. I'll come back later.”

“Wait wait wait! What? What do you mean you'll come back later? What's happening? Why do I have to hide-!?”

“Sssh-ssh-sh” He grabs me and covers my hand with his, his left hand resting on the back of my right hand. He begins to speak in a calmer tone, with a voice that I had not heard him use until now. “It's okay, nothing happens. I have to go, I'll come back, but I can't stay now. You hide, try to rest, I'll be back, I promise.”

“...” I take my hand away from his. “Okay.” “I'll stay, but don't take too long.” Please, I don't want to be here alone.

“Yes. I'll be back.” He affirmed one last time. I watch him run away and disappear among the trees and undergrowth. I enter the small shelter to inspect it.

*TAP TAP TAP* *PLOK* *TAP TAP FOOSSSH! *

…? A noise comes from behind me. I turn around and there's a pebble on the floor.

…

Okay.

I take out my phones flashlight to see better inside the house. There are what appear to be some trunks, small cabinets, and a trapdoor in the floor, It seems that there are corners and blind spots for the windows where the little moonlight that enters through the cracks cannot reach. It's freezing cold and I haven't brought my jacket. I leave the bag on the floor against the wall, I cover myself with the blanket and curl up in a ball in the most hidden corner I can find. I'm tired, I want to sleep, but I can't close my eyes.

…

—

It's been a few hours now.

…

I can't sleep, I simply can't.

…

It doesn't look like he's coming back.

*creek*

…?

*rin*

*tap tap, creek*

Sun?

“S-...” I pause before saying a word, I have the feeling I shouldn't speak. I remain silent and wait.

*tap, tap, tap, creeeeeek, tap*

*rin dirrin*

If it were Sun he would have already let me know it is him. That or he's playing a prank on me which isn't funny, but I'd better stay silent. From the shadow I look at the windows. I notice movement through the cracks, something has just passed through the wall next to me.

*dirriring dirring*

I cover myself more with the blanket, back against the wall, I stay as still as I can, I leave a gap between the blankets and the floor to see. A red glow sneaks through the cracks in the window and scans the room.

…

The glow is gone.

*tap, tap, rin, tap, dirring, tap, tap*

It's on the roof.

…

*tap, tap, tap...*

It moves again.

*rin *

…

It sounded on the other side of the wall.

…

…

“nghehe...”

It laughed. Why did it laugh? Whatever is on the other side of the wall just let out a laugh that made the hairs on the back of my neck and all over my back rise.

…

Oh no.

Oh no no no no no no no no.

I have to move. I have to get out of here. I can't stay here.

*creeek*

It came from the door. It's trying to get in.

*rin*

The trapdoor.

*rin dirring*

Where was the trapdoor?

*creek creeeek*

I crawl across the floor making the minimum noise, carefully feeling the floor, looking for the edge of the door.

*tap tap ring dirring*

…!

I found it. I open it carefully. It's too high. I'm at a very high altitude, I don't know if I'll be able to go down.

*rin, creeek...*

…

Fuck it. I slip through the gap quietly, closing it slowly, but that doesn't stop the door from creaking. I cling to the bark of the tree-

…

I left my bag. If it comes in and see it it'll know for sure that I have been there-

…

It doesn't matter now. I have to focus on getting down from the tree without killing myself. My fingers hurt and I can't put my foot down properly because of the soles of my boots. I feel like I'm going to slip at any moment. Somehow I make it to the ground. Still attached to the tree, I look up at the house. I don't see it-

…

A shadow appears from behind the tree. I press myself against the tree and hold my breath. It's looking for something. When he doesn't seem to look I move to a nearby tree, he moves to another tree, I move to the next, and the next, and the next. We continue like this until I start to get further and further away from him. When I think I've lost him I start running. I hide behind a tree to catch my breath.

…

I slowly peek out from behind the tree.

*rin*

…

It sounded above me.

…

I don't look up, I run.

“nnghehee...” He laughs.

He gives me a few seconds advantage before coming after me. The chase begins.

I run forward as much as I can, I hear his footsteps behind me but I don't look back, there's no time for that. I hear him laughing like a madman as he moves from left to right, from one tree to another, crawling on the ground, trying to confuse me, waiting for me to make the slightest mistake to catch me.

“Ah-” I trip. As soon as I fall to the ground I get up, ripping my stockings and scraping my knees, falling again, my nerves not letting me stand up.

“Nnhehehhehe...” Asshole. He has stopped running, he approaches by walking. I try to keep as much distance as my hands and legs allow me to move. I search desperately with my hand for something on the ground to throw. Finally my hand finds something.

I throw a rock at him “AGH!”

The rock passes by him, flying one or two meters away from him. He hasn't even moved, he didn't move a single muscle to avoid it, he just watches me still from where he is. I hear the nearby *pof* of the rock falling to the ground.

“...”

“...”

…

I get up and run. He grabs my leg and I fall to the ground again. He won't let me get up, every time I try he throws me to the ground. I struggle, I kick, but I don't break free from his grip. He never stops laughing, he is enjoying this. He drags me closer to him, no matter how much I twists, he doesn't let go. “ACKH-!...Hhhh-hh...-hh-h...” He grabs me by the neck, red pupils stared at me, I'm looking straight into his crescent moon mask (or waning, I don't know. Do you think I care right now?). He raises his free hand and his veins begin to glow a platinum color that extends to his fingertips. The hand approaches my face, I don't know what it's going to do to me, I'm scared, I don't want to look. I close my eyes, cover my face with my hands. I wait.

…

…

…?

Nothing's happening. It stopped. Why?

“Mun, nïe.” I hear Sun's voice. I open my hands a little to see what's going on. Indeed, it is Sun, several meters away from us... He looks exhausted. The one with the moon mask stares at him for a moment, until he decides to look at me again while bringing his glowing veiny hand closer. “¡Mun!” The Moonman looks at Sun again “Fehreh.” He seems to speak another language, I don't understand what he says.

“...” “Nïe” For the first time I hear him say something else besides laughing. Even though I can't understand him.

“Fïer pehgïer.” Sun responds.

“...” Moonman remains silent again.

“Bïelïe óubseh góuh...” Sun continues.

“Móu txehb móunsuvïe.” The Moon responds.

“Lïe bóu ¿Sóundïe mïesugïeb fehreh nïe txehtehrlïe?”

…

The air feels tense. Probably because of the hand grabbing my neck.

“¿Zkaóu fuóunbehb txehtóur tkaehnvïe nïe bóueh mehb zkaóu ïesreh rehuh óunsóurrehveh óun leh suóurreh?” Longest sentence I've heard him say so far.

“...” “Fïer óubseh góuh.” “...” “Vóuyehmóu óuntehrdehrmóu vóu óulleh” Sun takes a step forward “Nïe suóunóu fïer zkaóu ehtehkehr ehbu” Another step forward “Nïe sóunóumïeb fïer zkaóu txehtóurlóub... óubsïe” Another step “Óullïeb bïelïe óubsehn... fóurvuvïeb.”

“...” There's no response from the moon man.

“Behkehb tïemïe óub óubïe.”

“...”

…

The hand that grabbed my neck now grabs my shirt and yanks it. I grab his wrist as he pulls me to my feet and drags me to Sun, making me stumble. He throws me against him. Sun catches me before I fall over.

“Ska óubpkaóurhïe óub óun gehnïe.” The moon says something as he walks past. Sun puts a hand on his shoulder before letting him go, there's a pause between the two. The Moonman disappears into the trees. Wind and leaves are heard passing by.

…

He's gone. I feel dizzy. I fall down.

—

…

…

…

A faint light begins to seep through the cracks, illuminating enough to wake me up and make me open my eyes, I look around. I see my bag propped against the wall. I'm at the shelter where Sun left me.

…

My body aches, I have a hard time keeping my eyes open, it feels like I've been sleeping on the hard floor. No, wait, there are some blankets underneath me... It's still too hard to sleep well, either that or as I said, it shouldn't help me at all that everything hurts. After a while of staring at the ceiling I try to sit up. I emphasize trying. With every slight effort a pained moan escapes me.

“Oof...” Hurts.

*creek, tap tap tap tap*

Those wood creaks bring back bad memories from last night (which by the way, I'm alive, wow, I just realized), I can't help but cringe at every noise, I hear footsteps approaching, I try to move but the stinging pain prevents me from it.

*creek... *

The door opens.

Triangular shapes appear through the door followed by orange earth tones. “…Oh…!” “Early bird!” Thank god it's Sun and not the other one, or something worse “I didn't expect you up this early!” He says laughingly.

“ah?”

“How are you feeling?” He walks in. When he sets foot inside I lean back, towards the wall. “...” I don't really know why I did that. Sun stands at the door showing confusion with his usual head tilt. “...Arrr...re you okay, Fern?”

“...” I became tense suddenly. I really don't know still if I can trust him? He hasn't done anything to me yet but that doesn't mean that I can trust him. I don't know if he plans to do something with me like whatever that other one, the moon one, was going to do last night. “...ehh...hhh...h...” I can't get a word out, I'm afraid to ask.

“Mm?”

“...” I don't know what to say to him. My eyes go somewhere else.

…

He enters further into the house, ignoring that I keep my distance from him, leaves a bag he was carrying on the floor and begins to open the windows, letting in the little light of the dawn that is just beginning. He kneels on the floor in front of me with the bag. “Are you hungry?” He opens the bag and takes out an apple “Do you like apples?”

“...”

“No?”

“...”

“Um... I also brought berries... (It's what I had on hand coming here) There are... different types, you can choose” He brings the bag closer to me. I move further away. “uhhh...”

“...” I want to leave.

“You don't like them either...?”

“...” I don't want to eat. I want to leave.

“...”

“*snif... *”

“u-um...!”

“...*snif* *sob*...” I started crying out of nowhere.

“Ahhh...! D-do- don't cry! Ah-I-Um- Ca-can go find other things you might like-!”

I felt ashamed for crying and I put my hands to my face trying to wipe away the tears, but they wouldn't stop coming. “*hic, sniff, snif *” I looked away in an attempt to cover my face. I ended up looking at the floor, letting my hair act as a curtain.

“I can go in a moment!” Sun was already getting up.

“...w-want to leave...” I managed to get a murmur out.

“...W-what? Um...”

“...” *hic, hic *

“O-okay, um... If you aren't hungry... -we can do something else- uh- we can go look for rocks like yesterday in the river!”

“...” I don't want to do anything “...want to leave...”

“O-or we can do something else! Ah-bah-b-b-b- W-won't you like to go draw??! Somewhere, some landscape?! Wherever you want! We can draw together! If you prefer we can look for animals instead of landscapes!”

“...leave...want to...go... *hic, snif *”

“¡D-don't n- uh! ¡L-let's... um- let's not- uh!” He no longer knew how to order his words “H-hey, ¿Why don't we go to-?” He extends his hand towards my arm.

“I want to go home...”

He stops before touching me and removes his hand. “...” “...home?” There is a pause. He remains silent and unmoving. He finally speaks “Do you want…?” His tone became more serious.

“...”

“...to... go see the portal?” I look up slightly, I can't see through the tears and the fogged lenses of my glasses.

“...” I nod my head.

—

…

We didn't walk far until the red began to become visible. He brought me back to the portal. The same plain of red leaves and stone arch in the center of it all, as yesterday.

…

Sun has been quiet the entire time.

He advances towards the portal and stands facing it. He turns. “Come.” He extends his hand towards me. “You can pass through.”

“...”

I advance towards the portal. I stop before crossing. If it doesn't take me back home, what do I do? I don't want to stay.

A breeze begins to come out of the portal. The breeze turns to wind, the leaves rise, they pass through us. It's the same thing that happened yesterday when I went to cross. I turn to face Sun. Motionless, he looks back at me, the leaves pause in the air for a second as if time has stopped, the wind changes. From where the wind and leaves came now they come in, they push me towards the portal. I finally cross it.

…

Am I in the forest I know? I turn to look at Sun who stayed behind in the portal. “...Sun?” He's not there. I look around. He's not here. I've already crossed the portal, he must have left.

I notice a sudden draft pass by me. It's soft, like someone walking past you. I turn towards the forest, I have to start moving, I don't want to be here another minute.

...The air current that I noticed has lifted some leaves, they reach the trees, between them the wind does something strange, it forms a transparent silhouette. It looks like Sun, I can barely see him but I could swear it's him. The wind figure raises its hand and makes a gesture, it wants me to follow it. When I approach it turns around and walks into the forest, leaving a trail of leaves behind it. I follow the trail of the air current. Sometimes it stops to look at me, making sure I'm still following it. The red-leafed trees and the paintings disappear from view the farther we go. We crossed the forest until we arrived at the entrance of the town, near my house. There is no one on the street. If I walked into the house and pretended nothing had happened, officially no one would have noticed my absence.

I'm not one hundred percent sure if the wind figure that guided me is Sun or not, but I should at least thank him for bringing me back.

…

The air current has dissipated before I turn around. I look around, there's no one.

…

…

…

I enter the house, go up to my room and throw the bag on the floor. I go to the bathroom to wash. …I feel something strange in my hands but I couldn't say what. Doesn't matter. I change my clothes and get into bed, the tiredness of the previous night makes my body succumb immediately and I fall asleep instantly.

—

…

…

…

“ah...!” I wake up with my lungs begging for air. I need a moment to calm my breathing. I look at the clock without lifting my head from the pillow.

…

It is 12 midday. I rub my eyes and from my eyes I move to my face. I'm still tired. My body still aches. I stare at the ceiling.

…

My bag. I reach out to pick it up from the floor, making strange positions so as not to get out of bed.

I open it and search in the pockets. The bell. I put the bell to my ear. “...” I shake it.

*rin, diring diring*

“...”

I open it.

…

It's empty.

[pali-writes-atiny-bit]

Star Lost

Pairing: Chan x afab!reader (Y/N)

Summary: Y/N grew up stargazing with her father. In a way it has become a lifeline for her. However, you can't see the stars in Seoul.

WC: 1.1k

Content Warning: Intended for 18+ mature audiences, MDNI! Angst if you really think about it. Brief mention of parental death. Let me know if I missed anything else, I think it's just fluff though.

I imagine you in the night sky You comfort me somewhere Don't matter if you lose everything right now I'm holding out thinking about you I'll go anywhere - Star Lost by Stray Kids

You let out another deep sigh, at least your fifth in the last half hour (not that Chan was counting).

He embraces you, strong arms coming around you from behind. "Y/N, what's wrong, babe?" he whispers.

You lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder as you turn your eyes skyward. "It's been so long since I've seen a proper night sky with stars," you murmur back softly.

You're currently standing on the roof of Chan's dorm building overlooking the city. It's become one of your favorite places since you began dating. The night view of Seoul is beautiful with its shining skyline. But light pollution from the same skyline obscures the natural beauty of the night sky.

You tell him about how you grew up in the countryside and on clear nights it felt like you could see the entire universe unfolding in the sky. You explain how for years your father would lay in the grass with you and point out the various different constellations and asterisms. He would animatedly tell their stories and legends.

Chan listens to you reminisce fondly, but he can hear the sadness creeping into your voice. He draws you closer and presses a kiss into your hair, patiently waiting for you to continue.

You take a shaky breath and explain how although you lost your father to illness many years ago, you never lost his love of the stars. Whenever you felt sad, or overwhelmed in life you could turn to the night sky and imagine him with you. You would speak to him and find comfort in his memory. But here in the city you haven't been able to feel that same comfort.

You can barely finish speaking before you're choking back tears. He gently turns you around so that your face is pressed to his chest and lets you cry, your tears soaking his shirt.

Although you've only been dating a few months, Chan knows that you moved here more than a year ago. It saddens him to know that you've been missing the stars and your father for that long.

His hands idly draw soothing circles on your back and eventually your hiccuping breaths quiet. His soothing touch and the familiar scent of his cologne lulling you to sleep.

As he carries you down from the rooftop and puts you to bed, Chan resolves to take you out of the city for your next date. He smiles as he brushes your hair from your face. He has some planning to do.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ Time skip ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

About a month later, Chan informs you he rented a small cabin for the weekend and tells you to pack a bag with comfortable clothes. Although you're not familiar with the area, you're excited to get out of the city for a couple of days.

You load your bags into the back of his car and get on the road. He's got a big smile on his face while you play music from the passenger seat. You sing along to all your favorites practically vibrating with excitement.

You're in the car for less than two hours when Chan announces you're here and pulls up outside a small but beautiful cabin. You quickly unbuckle your seatbelt and rush outside, breathing in the fresh air. He follows behind with the bags, grinning at your enthusiasm.

You spend about half an hour settling in before heading out to spend the rest of the day hiking in the nearby recreational forest. By the time you return to the cabin, you're tuckered out and turn in for an early sleep.

While you sleep, Chan prepares for the real reason he brought you out here. He takes a large blanket, some pillows and a couple smaller blankets outside to the small grassy clearing near the cabin. He lays out the large blanket on the grass and arranges the pillows. He leaves the smaller blankets neatly folded in case you get cold later.

At around midnight, he wakes you up with a gente shake and a kiss to the forehead. "Y/N, babygirl, wake up, there's something I want to show you."

You blink sleepily and stretch. "What's going on, Channie?" You ask through a yawn.

"Put on a sweatshirt and come outside with me?"

You nod sleepily and hold your arms.

He grins at you before slipping one of his big sweatshirts on you and picking you up. He carries you out to the clearing before setting you down on the blanket.

"Look up, babygirl! Let's say hi to your father."

You lie back on the pillows and look up at the sky before gasping and sitting straight back up. Out here the sky is clear and you can see the universe unfolding before your eyes.

"Channie! You remembered?" You exclaim. Neither of you had ever mentioned that conversation from the rooftop. You didn't expect him to remember and you definitely didn't expect him to plan something like this just for you.

"Of course I did," he says, grabbing your hand. "You mean everything to me, and I wanted to meet your dad."

You lay side by side holding hands as you look up at the stars. You begin speaking as if you were talking to your dad. You tell him about all your stress and worries and you tell him about Channie. About how he's the most perfect boyfriend. About how you think they would have gotten along so well.

Chan stays silent the whole time, but squeezes your hand every now and then.

Eventually you fall silent too, just staring up and the endless expanse above you, and that's when the first star falls.

You gasp and squeal, pointing up at where the streak was. "Channie, did you see?!" You barely finish your question before another streak appears in the sky. Then another.

Chan smiles at you and says "it's the Perseids, let's make some wishes."

You smile back and cup his cheek with your hand. You study the way his eyes seem to reflect the entire universe back at you. You slide your hand into his curls and whisper "I wish you would kiss me."

As he connects his lips to your in a soft kiss you think to yourself that you couldn't possibly wish for a more perfect boyfriend. If he’s by your side, you don’t think you’d ever need to see the stars again. You wish you'll STAY together forever.

You continue kissing under the falling stars until you both fall asleep in each other's arms

Little do you know, Chan made the same wish.

A/N: If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading. I've been lurking, reading everyone's skz fanfics for a while and I finally decided to give writing a try for myself. What a better time to make my first post than on the 6th anniversary of Stay and Skz?

If you have any ideas please drop an ask in the box.

A big thank you to @writingforstraykids for beta reading.

Banners by @cafekitsune

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

Wobbly Hearts AU

Summary: Kai doesn’t like soulmates. He doesn’t want them and he certainly doesn’t need them. High school is hard enough without all the extra stress of soulmarks and finding your soulmates. He decided at a young age he didn’t have time for soulmates and he plans to stick to that decision. Unfortunately, as always, the universe seems to take a lot of joy in messing with him. or Kai struggles with reading and it’s everybody’s problem.

Hi there! Yes it's the very fic I've been yelling about in vague posts and tags the last 6+ months! It's been so long since I've posted anything to ao3 I've forgotten how it works but I'm doing my best! This fic is an AU set in an alternate universe of the LEGO Ninjago Movie (2017) combined with a lot of the characterization and aspects from the original LEGO Ninjago show. It's over 100k so buckle up and prepare for some shenanigans!

the first chapter is UP

sample under cut

Kai got his first soulmarks when he tried to eat a marker.

Tiny, with fumbling fingers, freckles and barely two years old he didn’t remember that day in the slightest. But his parents told the story to him and Nya all the time when they were little. 

It was the little red marker they said that he went for. His mom didn’t notice until he’d pried off the cap and stuck it into his mouth after several unsuccessful attempts that ended in red marker all over his face. She’d gotten it out of his mouth before he could really try to eat it like he’d been meaning to. He'd started crying at the abruptness of his marker being taken away, but those tears dried up fairly quickly after his mom scooped him up. 

His mom laughed that maybe his soulmates wanted him to feel less alone because a blue marker appeared not long after they started to wash off the red.

His first soulmark.

Kai grew up with their scribbled colorful lines on his skin. At first it was the hazardous meaningless lines of a toddler and then, as time progressed, they became more purposeful doodles. They were just another part of life he didn’t fully understand but accepted as fact because his parents simply smiled and spoke over his head of soulmates. He didn’t think he really grasped much of the concept of exactly what a soulmate was until he turned five.

They were someone (or several someones) that could be his favorite person (or people) in the whole wide world if he let them. After Nya was born he argued she was his soulmate because she was his most favorite person in the whole wide world. His dad said it was a different kind of favorite. But Nya was family and that was just as important. 

It wasn’t until he was seven and struggling to learn the alphabet that he realized there was more than one soulmate out there for him.

Words started appearing as they learned how to write, the letters slanted and wobbly and hazardous. He watched their writing change and improve and watched them start to talk to each other. There were two of them. Two soulmates all for him. They talked in the simple words that they could manage. One excitedly scribbled I <3 U when they learned how. Kai had to ask his mom what the lines meant and she explained it with a patient smile. It means I love you.

He was ten and still just drawing doodles while his soulmates spoke of their favorite cartoons and what they had eaten that day. Letters seemed to float around his head and laugh at him as he tried to read what they were saying, frustrated tears biting his eyes and blurring the letters. Seeing him struggle, his mom would let him sit on her lap and read him the words out loud while he rested his head on her shoulder.

Pens and markers felt awkward in his hands. The little doodles he managed never looked as good as the doodles one of his soulmates was always making. Their doodles were of cool stuff, like ninja and dragons and mechs. The doodles were so cool and Kai doodled little hearts and flames around them as best he could to show how much he liked them. But half the time he couldn’t tell the hearts from the fire and explosions, everything so wobbly and awful. He tried to write his name once and it was almost worse than the hearts.

Keep Reading

[cambion-companion]

I mean…if you’re willing I would die to see your take on an angst (with fluffy ending) childhood friends to lovers fic. Lots of mutual pining, misunderstandings, Aemond being passionate and needy.

I just need to have a story of Aemond being devoted to his girl through most of their lives and losing her drives him mad until he cracks and it’s just a passionate outpouring of love. Do you get what I’m saying?

Thanks in advance lol

Part 2 of our Little Women fic! "Not when I've spent my entire life loving you!"

Aemond x reader | angst | fluff | childhood friends to lovers | slow burn to happy ending

Aemond did not attend the dinner that evening.

You picked dismally at your food, ignoring the furtive glances Tomas was sending you across the table.

“It’s the prince, isn’t it.”  Tomas did not speak accusingly, there was no condemnation in his voice, yet you still felt guilt heavy in your chest.

“We’ve been friends since we were children.”  You sighed, pushing the bowl of cold soup away. “He was-is in love with my sister…it’s complicated.”  You set your elbow on the oak table, rubbing your aching temple.

“It seems so.”  Tomas rose, looking briefly down at your distressed posture, a frown tugging his lips down.  “If you ever wish to open up and let me know that part of you, I’ll be here.”

“Tomas, no.  I-” You looked wearily around only to see the back of him retreating from the firelit dining room.  With a groan you sank your head into your hands, pressing your palms to your tired eyes.

Not when I’ve spent my entire life loving you.

You had said those words to his face, admitting aloud what you’d felt for Aemond since the day you met him so long ago.  Breathing new life into a hidden dream you’d abandoned, knowing how he always loved your sister the way you’d wished he would love you.

You remembered when he and you had been alone together, many years ago, when you two were still children, innocent to the machinations of the world…

You were headed back to your hometown on the morrow; a deadly disease was spreading around the city and neighboring towns.  Your parents had sent for you to return home immediately, until the spreading sickness had passed.  Thus, you and Aemond found yourselves cherishing the last of each other’s company for the time being.

The two of you sat together beneath the sweeping branches of a willow, smiling and laughing as you exchanged your usual witty banter.  You fell silent a moment, looking over at the prince with earnest eyes. “I’m afraid to go back home, the people there frighten me.”

Aemond had nodded in understanding, his lilac eyes twinkling in the dappled sunlight. “If they are unkind to you, I’ll come and take you away.”

“Where would we go?”

“Essos?”

The two of you had shared a laugh at the fantastical notion of escaping King’s Landing together.  Your fingers tugged at the long grass upon which you sat. “If I get sick and die, give my sister the green box with doves on it…and you must have my turquoise ring.”

“I’ll see to that.”  Aemond’s face had grown serious as he nodded, he almost looked sorrowful as he watched you.

“I don’t want to die.”  You leaned over, resting your head on his shoulder. “I’ve never even been kissed. I’ve waited my whole life to be kissed, and what if I miss it?”

“Tell you what.”  Aemond said, catching your eye as you rose to look at his face. “I promise to kiss you before you die.”

You smiled gratefully at him, the two of you quickly erupting into a fit of giggles…

You chuckled to yourself, caught in the bright memory of that sunny day, and the promise Aemond had made you in the innocence of childhood.

Reality settled back in, the smile dropping from your face to be replaced by a sad frown.  You sighed, finally rising from your seat and smoothing your skirts before heading upstairs to retire for the evening.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The next day you prepared to practice your craft.  Already you had a nude painting session scheduled in the drawing room of the little house you occupied during the apprenticeship.  You expected your model would be already situated upon the sofa you had carefully arranged before the fireplace; you hurried to braid and pin up your hair before hurrying downstairs.

“Sorry I’m a bit late!”  You bustled into the room you had artfully arranged for the session, your arms laden with supplies.  “I expect you found everything alri-” You gasped loudly, the brushes and papers spilling from your grasp to the carpeted floor.  “You!”

“Me.”  Aemond quirked an eyebrow at you from where he sprawled across the couch, his long hair undone about his face and shoulders.

“I…I did not-! How did you-?  Where?”  You spluttered, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks as you tried valiantly to keep your gaze averted from his very naked body.

“You won’t be struck dead if you look at me, Y/N.”  Aemond drawled, carding his fingers through his hair. “I’ve made use of this tactful silk scarf you left here.”

“Thank the gods for that.”  You breathed, looking through your fingers at Aemond and seeing he had indeed fashioned a loincloth out of the shimmering violet fabric.

“I’m not a degenerate.”  Aemond sniffed, frowning at you.  You noticed he wore no eyepatch, the familiar sapphire gemstone sparkling in the socket of his left eye.

“So you say…”  You remarked, crouching to gather the paint supplies you’d dropped. “Yet somehow I don’t believe you were the one I’m supposed to paint today.”

“Astute as ever, Y/N.”  Aemond shifted lazily, propping himself on an elbow. “No, I caught wind of a weedy looking gentleman elaborating on how he was to be your…nude model and, well, I decided to relieve him of his duties.”

“You didn’t kill him, did you?”  It was a question spoken half in jest, but Aemond still laughed heartily at the seriousness in your voice.

“He’s been taken care of.”  He rolled his eye at your aghast expression. “Of course I didn’t kill him, Y/N.  Now are you going to paint me, or will I grow old and die here upon this sofa?”

“I have half a mind to tip this paint all over your head.”  You seethed, your mood not improving as the prince laughed again.

You busied yourself preparing the canvas, diligently focusing on your task and not looking at him.  Still, you felt his gaze burning into you as you worked.  Finally ready, you met his eye, your heart lurching at the intent expression on his angular face.  “Just hold still.”  You instructed, trying to pretend at an air of professionalism.

“I won’t move a muscle.”  Aemond reclined his arm across the back of the seat.

“You just did.”

You shook your head as you began painting him.  Your practiced eyes studying each feature you translated onto the canvas.  This was certainly not helping your current state of mind and by the sly smirk on Aemond’s face, he knew exactly what he was doing.  You subconsciously bit your bottom lip as you began detailing the features of his body.  His sculpted abdominal muscles, the way they shifted beneath his pale skin giving you pause for a few moments too long.  The length of his legs, his defined collarbones, the planes of his chest.

You yearned to touch him, to reach out and trace the contours of his muscles, the angles of his jaw and cheeks.

“I need a moment.”  You hid your face behind the canvas.  Closing your eyes and breathing deeply, trying to regain your slipping composure.

“Take your time.”  Came Aemond’s soft reply.

“I’m almost done.”  You forced a nonchalant smile onto your face, resuming to paint the finishing touches.

Many long minutes trickled by in heavy silence, Aemond’s eye never leaving your face.  

“There.”  You sat back, sweat beading on your brow, the room had become stifling as the sun rose high in the sky.  “All done.”  Paint covered your hands and inched up the skin of your arms.  Strands of hair fell across your face as you gave Aemond a rather forced smile. “I will leave you to get dressed.”

You didn’t wait for his reply, making a hasty exit to the cooler air of the hallway.  The door swung shut behind you and you braced yourself against the wall, feeling like you’d just ran several miles nonstop.

You collected yourself in time for the door to open once more, a fully clothed Aemond stepping to join you in the hall.  “Care to show me your work?”

You grabbed the canvas carefully from where you’d propped it against the wall, reentering the drawing room to place it back on the pedestal.  Aemond hovered over your shoulder, you heard his breath catch in his throat.

“Is it that bad?”  You looked over your shoulder at him.

His eye was wide, mouth slightly ajar but he was quick to neutralize his expression. “I…it is beautiful.”

You continued watching him look at your depiction of himself.  Aemond’s gaze flicked down to meet yours. “I’m not accustomed to seeing myself as…like this.”  He gestured to the canvas. “You’ve been generous by making my flaws less obvious.”

“Flaws?”  You brow furrowed in genuine confusion. “You don’t have flaws Aemond.”

“Oh, but I do.”

“Not to me.”

He didn’t have a retort to that.  His mouth pressed together in a thin line.

“Why did you come here, Aemond?”  You asked softly.

Still he did not speak, his attention still on the painting you had made of him.

“Aemond.”  You touched his arm lightly.

“It was a moment of reckless hope.”  He murmured.  “I thought…but it doesn’t matter.”

“You know, you could’ve come to dinner last night instead of showing up naked in my drawing room.”  You chortled, your nose scrunching as Aemond tousled your already mussed hair.

“And ruin all the fun?  I think not.”  He laughed with you, his demeanor finally relaxing.

“Will you join us tonight?”  You asked brightly, your smile faded at his morose expression.

“I leave this evening, back to King’s Landing.”

“Oh.”

You felt small, the feeling in your chest twisting painfully as Aemond watched you.

“Well then.”  You said softly.

“This is goodbye.”  He confirmed your fears.

Aemond hesitated a moment before grabbing your hand to place a kiss to your knuckles.  “Be well, my friend.”  He made for the door, only turning back halfway once he reached it. “My best to your betrothed and may you have a…satisfactory union.”

That seemed to be the limit for his well-wishes, spoken through gritted teeth as they were.  You stood looking at him retreat down the hallway, remaining motionless as you heard the front door slam shut.  You stood frozen in the humid sitting room for many minutes after he left, only come back to your senses when you heard Tomas arrive, calling out your name from the entryway.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Rain pelted against your face as you hurried toward the docks, your clothing saturated and heavy with water.  You had made you decision and gods be damned if you let your future slip once more out of reach.

You wiped the rain from your eyes, scanning the area for that familiar figure, the grey skies and the fact everyone wore hooded cloaks making discernment difficult.  

There.

Only one man you knew wore an eyepatch over his left eye and, more importantly, walked with that much of a swagger.  

“Aemond!”  You called, jogging to catch his elbow before he could board the ship.  “Aemond.”  You said his name again as he looked down at your face in confusion and wonder.  

He took you into his arms as you hugged him tightly, your tears mixing with the rain that streaked down your cheeks.  He held you for as long as you needed to regain composure.  You pulled away at last to look up at him.  

“I’m not marrying Tomas.”  You said, your throat still constricted.

“I heard about that.”  Aemond’s voice was soft, understanding.

“And you are under no obligation to do anything or say anything.”  You shook your head, looking at the puddled ground. “I just didn’t love him as I should.”

You breathed out sharply through your mouth.  “So we don’t need to talk about it.  We don’t need to say anything.”  

You next words were cut off as Aemond’s hand cupped your face, guiding you to him as he kissed you tenderly.  The feeling of his plush lips moving against your own sent butterflies fluttering in your chest.

He broke the kiss, measuring your expression with a hooded eye. “I promised I would kiss you before you die, did I not?”

You gasped a half-laugh, half-sob, pulling him into you, your hands at his waist, kissing him again with all the fervor and devotion you could muster.  Aemond held you close, his chest flush with yours, the rain still pattering against your entwined bodies as he kissed you again and again.  As many times and for as long as you would let him.

[woneuntonzz]

what's it like to love ? 𓇢𓆸

anton lee x afab!reader (part 4/5)

• part 1

• part 2

• part 3

• part 5

warnings: cussing!

genre: fluff -`♡´- highschool love

word count: 5.3k words!!

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ description: student athlete!anton x studious class officer!reader | you swore to yourself, to you friends and even to your parents “I'm not one to easily fall.” and you thought you were that tough, not until him of course. [note!!: hiii i'd just like to quickly say that this is my first ever post ever and i'm still a bit insecure with my writing, and english is not my first language so bare with me now 🙏 open for any forms of feedback please do take note that i will take longer to update/respond to anything because of school, thank you!!! ]

[Day 14]

“You seriously aren't dating?” 

It's been over an hour since you've set yourself to finish the very last thing that you needed to complete your grades in Economics. 

You and a couple of your friends were in the library on an early Tuesday morning to finish schoolwork. You've spent the past week taking tests, conducting group presentations, finishing remaining school work, and preparing for the finals which were to be held the next day.

“No —shouldn't you be studying? I heard your class is getting a long test from Mr. Choi later.” you didn't bother drawing your eyes away from what you were doing hoping that they would stop pestering you with the unnecessary questions.

“That's not a problem to me, so stop changing the topic. Tell us what's going on between you and the swimmer guy, you two are always together nowadays 's so hard to miss now.” you stopped and stared at the paper you've been working on, giving Liz a quick glance.

“He likes me.” These words slip past your mouth like it's been resting at the back of your tongue. 

”And?” you sighed at Liz's urges and pursed your lips, trying to find the words to explain everything.

“I haven't reciprocated.” your response was very subtle but your tone indicated hesitance.

“For real? Well, how do you feel about Anton?” Liz's question made everyone take a pause on what they were doing, they were all eyes and ears for you.

“Anton —he's very sweet, and he cares about me, like, a lot. And you know how I've been bothered by him ignoring me for like, months? I just suddenly became interested in befriending him, even just a little bit —but, yeah, that happened. I don't get why it bothered me so much that it got to a point of him confessing out of the blue, does this mean I like him too?” Your eyes lingered on the empty space on the table you occupied.

Your friends exchanged worried looks, unsure of how to help you. 

“I mean, you were mainly worried that he hated you, right?” you weakly nodded at Danielle. “Normally you wouldn't really care about that stuff, at least since last year, so looking at it now it seems like your fixation on Anton must mean something.”

You sighed, averting your eyes from the table and staring on the floor below you as you started to think. Because of something that happened back then, I just stopped caring for anyone with a negative sentiment towards me. I didn't care when that girl I swore to the heavens I loved suddenly stopped caring about me just because of a stupid rumor, I didn't care when people started giving me glares, whispering to themselves when I passed by, I didn't care when I saw the screenshots from group chats that talked shit about me and my friends. I just didn't care, but what made me care for him? —you started to reflect on your feelings and actions for the past year. 

“I'll be fine!” The sudden shift of tone and the smile that sprang forth your lips shocked your friends.

“You sure? We're really worried, you know.” Liz held your free hand and caressed it with her thumb. 

“Yeah, I think I got it.” you heartily smiled at both Liz and Danielle to reassure them.

Danielle went to give you a warm embrace whilst Liz had her arm wrapped around your shoulders, giving you a light squeeze. 

In all honesty, even you didn't know what you meant by "I think I got it.”. What was the next move? Just go with the flow —you repeated in your mind, allowing yourself to be receptive as the next few hours flew by.

————— ୨୧ —————

Anton sat next to you in the classroom with a very few others, those including you who chose to stay back for lunch to finish the workload. 

Both you and Anton were busy with something, with you assisting him every now and then since he had a lot more to work on. 

Despite the very heavy atmosphere brought in by the stress from school, you and Anton appeared to be marveling in your own little world, sifting through paperwork with such radiant expressions embedded on your faces. 

“How should I design this?” Anton held up his unfinished project.

You turned to face him, crossing your legs and holding your chin to imitate enthusiasm. “You know what it needs?”  

“Please don't say Barney the Purple Dinosaur, that… thing… It terrifies me.” Anton shimmied his shoulders to express his supposed fear.

“WHAT? He's cute!” you pressed on him, making him breathe out a laugh.

“So you're saying Barney looks like you?” your eyebrows nearly touched from what he had just said.

“Excuse me? Do I look purple to you?” you jabbed at him with 'threatening' eyes. 

“No, what I mean is, if he's really cute as you claim, he should at least resemble you.” Anton calmly explained.

His zealous explanation made you chortle. He was immersed in your laughter, your voice, your eyes that disappeared as you chortled on, and the corners of your lips that rose higher and higher, because of him.

“Oh, so I'm your basis for what you classify as cute?” you breathlessly spoke, still trying to recover from your disoriented state.

“Well, yeah! look at you…” he cupped your face in his hands, gently squishing your cheeks.

His eyes went from your lips to your eyes after you had gone completely quiet. Your eyes meet each other, stuck perfectly as if binded by glue. He delved into the pools of your eyes, trying to capture what it is you're trying to tell him with your stare.

“Anton.” Your serene voice made Anton blink.

“Yeah?” he whispered back.

“Can you give me a little more time?” he breathes in after hearing your question, but you spoke again before he could utter a response. “To think about… us.”

Your face was still in his hands. He started softly brushing his thumb against the skin of your cheeks. “Of course. I'm sorry, am I moving too fast?”

“No.” but I'm falling too fast —you were only able to finish your sentence in your mind, still afraid to admit your feelings.

You were still quite unsure. You were still afraid that things would end up the same way it did for you past 'relationships', you were already thinking about the plausible downfall before anything had even started.

————— ୨୧ —————

The bell rang, students scurried out of the building, being chased by the obligation to study for the exams tomorrow day. 

“Don't message me tonight okay? Both you and I have A LOT to study.” you iterate to the guy walking beside you.

“Yep. I'll be crying over chemistry… if you even cared.” you playfully rolled your eyes at his humorous cry.

When you stepped out of the school gates, you were expecting him to wave goodbye and walk the other way, but then after being about a meter away from school, you stopped in your tracks.

“Why are you still with me? isn't your house the other way?” you furrowed your brows as you looked at him.

“You're crazy for real, my house is literally in the same direction as yours, keep walking luv.” Anton placed his hand on the area below the back of your neck, lightly pushing you to continue your steps.

“Wait, really? you've always walked the other way…” at this point you were just questioning everything and you already had a lot on your mind considering the exams.

“I visit the record store nearby before going home.” you simply nodded at Anton for his clarification.

“Why?” you asked to which he shrugged.

“I like it there. It's peaceful, it's vintage, the music is fire, and the owner is very nice.” it was true that he often visited that place before he went home, but not everyday, what wasn't a fact is that his home is actually in the same direction as yours. “I can take you there some time when you're free.”

“I'd love that.” you utter, smiling to yourself, keeping your eyes on the vamp of your shoes.

You two kept walking till you reached the gates to your house and the sun was just about to fall.

“I never knew you lived just right ahead.” you were unlocking the gate when the words fell off your lips. 

“Are there no people inside to open the gate for you?” you swung the gate open and looked at Anton whose eyes lingered on your bedroom window on the second storey of the house.

“My dad's abroad, my mom's at work.” you shake your head away from the gloomy thoughts, smiling up at Anton. 

He smiled back, subtly biting down on his bottom lip. 

“Get home safely Tonii.” there was a glint in Anton's eyes when they enlarged in a modicum. 

“Uh —Oh, yeah, you too.” Your laughter filled his ears and soon enough he cracked up as well.

“What do you mean 'you too'?” At this point, you're just breathing out your words. “I'm literally at home right now!”

“You never know, Barney might be right behind the door to kidnap you…” Anton eyed the door of your house, his actions gave you the creeps and the thought that an intruder might actually be inside your house waiting for you flashes in your mind.

“Ow!” you hit Anton's chest, but still, he laughed. 

“Go home! you didn't have to give me anxiety you know!” Anton chuckled once again looking down on you who was looking up at him and pointing at his face, acting menacing in jest.

“Go inside your house first, what will happen then if I left and Barney ends up kidnapping and eating you alive huh?” you both had pursed lips in an attempt to suppress a laugh.

“Okay, okay. I'll go in.” When the two of you finally calmed yourselves down, you walked to the doorstep of your house.

You had the door wide open, just enough for Anton to catch a glimpse of your humble home. You stood by the door, already inside the house. “Message me when you get home, will you?” you asked eagerly, just loud enough for Anton to hear you despite the distance.

“I will.” Anton replied, matching your volume.

He waved at you as a smile crept up to his face. 

His smile somehow caused you to feel some kind of current coursing through your entire body. You had to defy the urge to just walk right back to Anton to make him feel what you felt as your eyes traced the curve that gradually formed on his lips.

He kept his smile as he started to slowly disappear from your sight. You were so smitten that you failed to notice that he walked back to the direction where you came from. 

————— ୨୧ —————

About an hour has passed, and the message you'd been waiting for since you've had yourself settled at your study table is yet to come. 

You've been flipping over your notes, sequentially staring at every word delineated with different color variations of highlights. 

Maybe he forgot, he must've gotten really tired… —you began to think of a thousand reasons why he hasn't messaged you yet. You exhaled heavily, laying your head on your forearm resting on your study table. You shifted your head to the side and eyed your phone. You were pondering on just grabbing it and asking him where he was and why hasn't he messaged you yet. 

You sat up with both hands at the sides of your head. After a few minutes of resisting and a long blink, you finally gave in.

Anton just got off the bus when he felt his phone vibrating in his hands. His eyes went bulging out of its socket when he saw your name.

Anton couldn't help but beam at the little nickname you gave him but he quickly gathered his thoughts and gulped, glancing at the quiet street of their neighborhood. He couldn't stand making up a nonsensical excuse that you'll eventually dissect within seconds, he didn't want you to think that he doesn't really care or that he forgot, that he got too tired. It wouldn't make sense for him not to speak or be with you even if he's exhausted to the core, he could only be in repose with you after all.

A downturned smile formed on Anton's lips. He made great effort every time he intended to flirt with you, and he was aware when you flirted back, he just wasn't certain if you meant any of them. He surely meant every endearment, often masking them with his little quips. He didn't want to think you were just frivolling with him and he's quite abashed with even having to take a second to think about it.

He felt his phone vibrate in his hands again, this time you were calling. He picked up almost immediately, and you were met with the ceiling of his room.

“Nice wall.” you uttered.

“It's the ceiling.” he was chuckling out of frame 

He had his phone set up on his desk and you could see his medals and trophies at the background, and his cello. You were eager to ask him about his cello, ask him to play you something, and maybe even teach you. You cleared your throat as you cleared out your thoughts.  

Anton sat down on his desk chair facing his phone —facing you.

“Where are the others?” Anton asked as he watched you blurt down what you were studying.

“Oh, they backed out.” your tone was nonchalant and your head hung low, pouring all your attention to blurting, or at least you were trying to.

“Really?” he was almost laughing and you heard it, making your left brow rise.

“Mhmm~” you hummed back.

“You sure it's not because you wanted to talk to me?” Anton's tone sent shivers down your spine. 

He sounded calmer, and a lot more alluding, so much so that you had to stop and stare at your notebook for a while to calm your mind and give it some space to process what to reply.

“Maybe —Well, yeah, I guess, but I called you to study.” your voice took after his making him feel assured. 

Despite the soporific air in his room which he inhaled, he was wide awake, wanting to just hear you talk on and on and on again. His yearnings were answered not long after.

“And I guess I wanted to… hear your voice —again.” your figure remained placid in his eyes, but deep inside, your heart pounded like a whole planet of people marching together. 

“Really?” somehow his voice became a lot lower, while still having a comforting and peaceful cadence.

“Mhmm~” your hum, this time, was a lot more mellow. It filled his ears and it got stuck in his head like a song that he almost hummed too.

“Everything about you is so, so beautiful.” your heartbeat persisted.

You looked up to your phone to see him, and there he was, giving you the same smile he left you as he stood by the gates of your home. How could you not smile back? in a matter of seconds, you shied away from his stare, looking back down on the paper that you've almost forsaken. 

“Hey —uh —let's have this talk some other time. There's still a lot to study, especially for you.” Anton could hear the frailty trying to break out of your voice.

He chuckled spurring your attempts to calm your heart down to fall short. “Okay, lovely.”

Your head fell right onto your desk, producing a loud thud.

“Y/n? you okay?” your sudden action stunned him.

“Yeah, yeah, i'm fine! let's just study, please!” you pleaded as you lifted your head back up.

You just had no idea that his heartbeat was in sync with yours. He just wanted to be by your side again. He didn't want the call to end just yet, he loved hearing your voice, but at the same time he couldn't wait for the next day to come so he could admire you closely and marvel in your presence.

————— ୨୧ —————

[Day 17]

Finals have come to an end. Some tests were easier than others, but you were confident, you were gonna be in the Top 5 of the ranks. You felt particularly good during those 3 days of absolute mind torture. Within those 3 nights, you and Anton have been having your study calls. You would both study the whole time, while also fighting to make the other blush more than yourselves. 

It's a cloudy Sunday morning, you could tell it was cloudy since the sun has yet to peek at you at the time it normally would. You had just woken up from a good night's sleep and felt very relaxed that you had nothing to worry about anymore. No pending schoolworks, no group projects and presentations, no more quizzes and exams, and most importantly, no more school for a few short months. 

Once that long awaited break greets you and pats you on the back, all you'll have to do is brace yourself for your senior year, your final year. You've been thinking really hard on what course to take and all you've ever been is nothing but unsure even with the pressure of having only a year left to figure it out.

You got your phone from your bedside table, and without checking it, you headed downstairs. 

“Hey, hun', your grandpa asked if you wanted to come over and visit, we'll only be there till dinner.” your mom asked as she eyed your figure that slowly descended from the stairs. “Your grandpa is having some visitors if you don't mind.”

You lightly smiled at your mom and nodded. 

It's been a while since you've paid a visit to your grandfather's haven —as you'd like to call it. He owned a huge flower field, filled with flowers that he and his family adored. Your grandfather loved seeing people with mouths hang open, admiring the beauty, the work, and the thought put into this field. He could've capitalized on it, but he didn't. He made a gateway and a stone path through the field, and anyone could go in and out. He always watched, to make sure that no one would ruin his beloved flowers, but for the most part he just wanted to see the appreciative nature of mankind towards such beautiful beings.

In the car ride to your grandpa's, your mom would ask you about everything that's been happening for the past few months. It's been quite a while since the two of you had an actual conversation. It was a great relief that your mom missed you as much as you missed her, where every night when you hear the sound of her parking the car in the garage, you couldn't bring yourself to get up anymore and greet her. It would be too late in the night for you to be up and it would worry her, so you would just lay there and you would see her with only the moonlight shining down on her, and she would caress your hair and leave once she's assured that you've been sleeping well.

After some catching up with your mom, you finally arrived at your grandpa's. He welcomed the two of you with a warm and wide smile spread across his face. He smelled like a pie of mixed fruits, which could only mean one thing. 

“These visitors, they want to buy my field.” both you and your mom went wide-eyed from his words.

“You said yes?” your mom's hand reached for her dad's forearm, keeping it there.

“Well, not yet.” your grandfather scratched the back of his neck when your mom let out a loud sigh.

“Well, grandpa, if you can refuse it, you definitely should. That's your gift for grandma for her last birthday, and she's looking over it from the heavens. Who knows what these visitors would do with these fields. They might clear out all the flowers and build a factory for all we know!” your grandpa looked at you with contrite eyes.

“I know, I know, but they've really been pushing me for almost 8 months now! I was hoping we could talk it out through dinner.” you had so much trust in your grandfather, and you knew he could resolve this, you knew he would never give up the field, even for his own life. “And maybe you'd like their son too.”

The worry painted on your face was diminished within seconds. 

“Dad!” your mom lightly hit his shoulder with the hand that used to rest on his forearm.

“What?” your grandpa seemed to be a little too indifferent with the situation he'd put you in and it made you a bit upset.

“Did you set her up with the son!?” your mom had a firm grip on his shoulder now, slightly shaking him as she spoke.

“I guess so.” your mom sighed even heavier than earlier. “Their son is a good guy! He's a bit timid, but he was tall! really tall… and I believe he plays basketball —or was it football? I can't really remember, but—”

“It's fine.” you blurted out, arms crossed and gloomy eyes pinned to the floor. 

“I'm sorry my little tulip. I shouldn't have. You don't have to, okay? I'll try my best to convince them with my words and cooking alone, and if it doesn't work, then, I don't really know what to do —but you can just settle, okay?” your grandpa placed a hand on top of your head and gave it a gentle pat.

You could only nod and give him a weak smile. You loved the field, it's the only fragment of your grandmother that you'll be able to keep till your last breath. When you were born, it's been over a decade since your grandmother had passed. You had never been in her presence, but in the fields, you could catch a glimpse of her amidst the clouds, smiling down at you.

Before you knew it, the night would fall. You made sure you looked proper, still staying true to your words that you were not there to impress anybody. 

You helped your mom with setting up the dining table. When the bottom of the glass pitcher you held touched the table, you heard your grandpa say “Welcome Mr. and Mrs. Lee! —oh, and hello to you too young man!”.

You sighed, but then you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned your head and was met with your mom's reassuring smile. “Nothing's going to be sold, and no one's going to be forced into anything, okay?” she says softly, before making her way into the living room to greet the guests as well.

Her words made you feel at ease, the heavy feelings that slowly weighed down on you started to dwindle.

Put away the cloth you used to handle the pitcher, and you could hear your mom, grandpa and the guests coming into the kitchen. 

“Oh, and that's my granddaughter Y/n. She's very smart, and she can sing too!” you suppress a laugh from hearing your grandpa's proud tone.

You turned around, and your mind went spiraling. It seemed out of the blue, a very peculiar instance. Perhaps this was entirely by chance as this was never a part of your wishes and prayers. 

“Y/n y/s/n?” you tensely nod at who you could only guess as the mother of the family. 

“You know my granddaughter?” your grandfather tilted himself to the side out of curiosity.

“Hmm, yes. We know her very well. She's known for being one of the top students in their school, in fact, she's helped our son a lot with his schoolworks since he had a lot to catch up on.” the mom gave you a warm smile after her sentence.

“Our son is very thankful. We hear your name quite a lot and we've really been wanting to meet you.” This time, it was the dad who spoke.

Your lips quivered. You're just simply at a loss for words. 

Everyone was sitting on the dining table, and there he was, sitting across from you. 

“Oh, I thought you were a basketball player because of how tall you are! good for you! I feel like being a swimmer is a lot cooler!” your grandfather would excitedly exclaim somewhere in the adults' conversation.

You and him never bothered to join in unless you were asked. 

Once again, being in your own little world, when the adults had gone to the living room to talk, the two of you went to the flower fields.

“This place is surreal.” you barely believe that you were hearing the same mellow voice that you could never seem to get off your head again after a while.

“Yeah? just imagine how it would look under the light of day.” you crouched down to touch one of zinnias. 

You felt his lofty figure crouch down next to you. 

“I missed you, you know. My parents tricked me into coming here. I just said I wanted to see this field, but when we got close they told me they wanted me to meet the field owner's daughter. It was like they were implying that I get no bitches.” you couldn't help but laugh at him.

You turned yourself around and carefully sat yourself on the stone path with your knees bent towards your body. You could feel some of the flowers tickling your back making you giggle softly as you looked into his eyes.

“I missed you too Tonii.” he gave you a smile as bright as the moon above.

You both looked up to the sky and admired the stars, and the crescent moon. 

“It was so cloudy this morning. I can't believe this sight would be possible.” your voice was very gentle, still admiring the night sky.

Anton looked into your shimmering eyes. He could see the reflection of the moon greeting him. It was telling him something. He was so mesmerized by you that he wouldn't even realize that you were already staring back at him.

“It's kind of funny, you know? it's like the universe was taunting us, telling us we're gonna meet another romance that was not each other, but in the end it's still us.” you tilted your head, trying to see through Anton's entrancing gaze.

“I like you too Anton.”

Despite the cold air of the night, heat traveled throughout your entire body as you watched his eyes grow larger.

“Am I hearing things? Y/n? Y/n are you there?” you released a hearty laugh and hit his chest playfully.

You allowed your hand to rest there, and you could feel his rapid heartbeat that went at the same pace as yours. It wouldn't take long until you were both staring into each other again, and at the same time, at the same speed, your eyes would shift to each other's lips, and they would meet eventually. You wrapped your arms around his neck when he had placed a hand to support your back as he leaned in closer, and closer.

“Y/n? Anton? Where are you?” you two would hurriedly stand up from where you were when you heard your grandpa's calls.

You glanced at each other's flushed faces before a flashlight shone right onto your faces.

“Oh, there you are. Well, Anton and his parents will be leaving now.” Your grandpa gave Anton a big smile, signaling with his hands for Anton to come back to the house.

You walked back side by side with your hands latched onto one another. 

You two were met with silent stares when you entered the house with linked hands. You two would let go from each other and Anton would go stand next to his parents.

“We'd like to thank you for the wonderful meal, we really do appreciate it.” Anton's mom shook hands with your grandfather, and would give your mom a hug.

She went up to you and hugged you as well, a little bit longer than you expected. 

————— ୨୧ —————

When you got home, you had asked Anton if you could give him a call since your time earlier was cut short. He immediately said yes and you two would be on facetime again, this time with no books or notebooks, not seated at your desks. You were both just lying on your beds with your phones in hand. 

“Wait, you like me too?” Anton had been asking the same question for the past 6 minutes

“Yes!” you laughed.

He just couldn't believe it. You couldn't believe him either. You've been thinking about it ever since day 1, it was just now when you realized that you did feel the same.

“Are we like g-f and b-f now?” he places a hand over his mouth acting like a shy toddler.

“Ew, don't say it like that!” He ended up laughing too.

“Okay!” his laughter would fall to an abrupt stop and it would go silent for a while that you almost asked him if he was still there. “But seriously, what are we?”

“Well, we feel the same. Couples become couples because of reciprocated feelings. Now put two and two together.” you made little hand gestures as you spoke, and he just smiled, but deep inside he was awestruck, still finding everything unbelievable.

“We're… we're together now holy shit.” you couldn't help a gasp from escaping your mouth. You've never heard him cuss so heavily before, it sounded harmless —well of course, he's Anton— but it was so foreign to you that you just bursted out laughing.

The two of you talked and laughed throughout the night, and when the clock ticked at 12, you two had to say goodbye.

“Good night Tonii.” you yawned, making Anton expel a chuckle. “Can't you stop laughing at everything?”

“I should be the one saying that to you, but anyways, I just think you're so adorable, leave me alone.” his last words were muffled as he hid the bottom half of his face under the covers. “Good night lovely. See you again tomorrow.”

Tomorrow was another day, and a very great one as it turns out. Suddenly you two weren't hiding the fact that you two would hold hands and were always just centimeters away from touching noses. Your friends and Anton's alike didn't seem to be surprised at all, they were more likely relieved that the two of you finally came to a conclusion to what they thought shouldn't take too long. After all, the painfully obvious mutual feelings you shared were so strong that your friends and he would have distorted faces by the end of observing you two. But now, the clock is finally set.

“So you're saying, your grandfather spent almost a half of his life on that flower field, and it would be his final and greatest gift to your grandma?” you hummed an affirmation at Anton's query. “Woah.”

“The commitment made me believe that there is indeed true love.” you said in a very dramatic tone, looking off into the distance. 

“I can do that for you too.” he took great offense from you laughing at his face. “I'm not kidding!”

“I mean, it,'s not that I don't think you can or would, you don't really have to. There's a lot more ways you can express your feelings, my grandpa just happens to be a very hard-working man who appreciates the smallest of the small things in life.” Anton just loved it when you got so immersed with explaining.

“It's love.” he blurts out.

“Yeah. Love.” 

Love drives us to do the unthinkable, the perceptively impossible. Love is complex, but you would know it when you feel it, you would know when you've found it. And it is when love is exchanged unconditionally that life begins to finally be as fulfilling as they claim it to be in books and movies.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

[project-reaper]

Moving forward into 2024!

I haven’t really had a proper chance to say Happy New Years, so this will have to suffice, with a little breakdown of what’s been going on and what’s to come!

WHAT I'VE BEEN UP TO

I’ve been spending the better part of the last year working on new projects and endeavors. Both with Time Gate and outside of it. From vendoring at markets and working expo’s for the first time to working on art pieces completely outside of Time Gate, 2023 was a hell of a year and it makes me all the more hyped for 2024. That said, I’ve been carrying a weight with me through 2023 that’s made it difficult to enjoy it to the fullest - the weight of knowing that [AFTERBIRTH] is still on hiatus.

This isn’t the longest hiatus that I’ve been on, but it’s certainly starting to approach the record and I wanna get it back on track. Like getting back in shape after spending an entire winter hibernating and eating nothing but junk food, getting back into drawing [AFTERBIRTH] on a schedule is gonna be a process of rebuilding good habits and learning what I can do better to keep those habits alive and well.

The fortunate side to taking hiatuses is that it always does give me a new sense of perspective. In this case, I learned that I put myself through a lot at the start of [AFTERBIRTH]’s production. Like, way more than I realized. At the time I thought I was super capable - and I am! - but now in hindsight I can recognize it wasn’t healthy or sustainable for me to manage that sort of output all on my own. I’m still grinding away at comics like I always do with those other projects I’ve mentioned, but it’s still nothing near the amount of work I put myself through just to meet my own deadlines with [AFTERBIRTH]. I also have this thing called help now in the form of a background artist who’s been working with me on those other projects, which has been an amazing and enriching experience.

Having that time away from [AFTERBIRTH] not only gave me the breathing room I needed to recuperate from the burnout I got myself into, but also got me out of the routines I had stuck myself into, which has given me some new tricks and skills that I’m really hyped to bring back into Time Gate with me.

This does, in a way, mean that I’ve had to really reflect on Time Gate, a lot. It’s a project I’ve been writing since I was a kid, and drawing as a webcomic since I was around 18-19. It’s changed a lot in that time, but I’m finding while a lot of those changes have been reflected in the comic as it is, there are still so many more I want to make - because like the comic, I’ve changed a lot, too, both as an artist and as a person, and considering Time Gate’s always been a sort of personal extension of myself, I no longer resonate with a lot of parts of it that I’ve since outgrown. It’s not so much that I want to hide or take for granted those parts of it that are ‘uglier’, but I want the writing and art to be expressed in the best way it can be because at the end of the day, I’m trying to tell a coherent story that’s enjoyable to read and experience. I’m also the sort of person who learns best by just getting their hands dirty and learning what not to do, and boy, have I spent a lot of years doing just that through Time Gate.

GOING FORWARD

So, going forward, I’ve adjusted my schedule with my other projects to accommodate the time I need to both get back into Time Gate: [AFTERBIRTH] as well as prepare for the upcoming convention season. I’ve got a bunch of plans for this year’s markets with new ideas for prints and stickers and other goodies that I’m really excited to make! And I just, overall, want to pull myself out of the burnout funk. You can’t force recovery to happen on your own time but there does come a point where you gotta start taking steps otherwise you get stagnant, and I feel like that’s where I’ve been the last few months.

AFTERBIRTH FORMAT CHANGE

[AFTERBIRTH]’s format will be changing back to page format in its second season. Vertical format works for some projects and stories, but not for Time Gate. It’s been fun, but part of learning what I’m best at is learning what I’m not best at and the vertical format is too limiting for what I want to do with Time Gate in the future. Color will still be remaining!

REAPER RECOMPILED

I will also be working on the Recompiled editions of Reaper. These will predominantly be the first few volumes redrawn and rewritten to accommodate a tighter story down the road. I know, I know, “don’t get trapped redrawing/rewriting stuff”, but I feel the changes that I wanna make are so necessary that they’re part of what’s holding me back from continuing with [AFTERBIRTH] into Thread of Fate and beyond. There are a lot of really silly and otherwise unnecessary writing decisions I made back during Reaper that I currently feel aren’t working for what I’m trying to accomplish in its sequels, and let’s face it, I wrote it almost ten years ago when I was still very much learning, so it’s due for an upgrade. It'll be the last time too, because it'll be putting us on Loop 9999 and remember what Matty said about surpassing 9999-

This will be something I’ll be picking at slowly but surely. When it’s ready I’ll basically be replacing the old pages and updating any new mirror sites with only the new version (I’m currently planning on trying out NamiComi and Lemoon and of course I'll be continuing to post on ComicFury and GlobalComix).

THE BIG GREEN ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM-

All of that will basically be working towards my biggest step - getting the flying fuck off Webtoons. Because let me tell you, I've basically spent the last two years like this:

Y’all know that I’m not really one to roll over and take shit from massive platforms, and Webtoons is no exception. I’ve been posting to it since 2016 and I’m very very much done with it; just like with Tapas it’s no longer the site it used to be and there’s fresh competition entering the market that I’d rather put my focus on. At the very least, I want my independence back, if I’m gonna be stuck having to market and network my own work anyways I’d much rather be doing it for my own site or platforms that aren’t constantly undercutting its creators by removing core features and not implementing necessary ones. I as well as many others have been doing our own investigating into Webtoons and we’re basically feeling like canaries in the mineshaft right now, picking up on some massive warning signs that we want to get ahead of. The worst that can happen is that I pull the same stats I pull on Webtoons somewhere else, what a tragedy that would be LMAO

LIVESTREAMING

And then of course there are my livestreams. Like learning the hard way that I shouldn’t have been drawing [AFTERBIRTH] on such a strict schedule, I’ve learned that streaming on the schedule I used to be streaming on just ain’t for me. Call it the ADHD but I’d much rather stream when I have something to legitimately talk about or showcase rather than force myself to stream even on days when I’m really not feeling up to talking. And I’d like to get back into doing actual video editing content, whether it’s speedpaints or gaming videos or commentary stuff, whatever have you. Now that I have a proper PC rig that’s actually built to do heavy duty stuff, the possibilities of what I can create are a LOT more vast and I wanna take full advantage of them!

That said, if you wanna see an example of what the streams will look like when we return, check out this lil’ time lapse demo:

Definitely couldn't do that on my old setup! It might not be regular streaming like before, but it’ll damn well be higher quality and more fun to watch haha

WELL THAT WAS A BIG WALL OF TEXT WASN'T IT

So yeah! That was a lot of words but I hope it clears up everything that's been happening on my end. Thanks for following along with my work all these years, whether it’s Time Gate or my lil’ secret projects or my streams, through all the ups and the downs. Long-term projects like these may take their toll but there’s so much joy in seeing them change and grow over time, and I want to fully embrace and reflect that growth as best as I can through what I bring you guys.

Thank you all so much, let’s make 2024 a good year <3

[idontlikeem]

i'd like to talk about grieving, a little bit. as in the past, discussions of death and cancer below the cut, don't read if this will hurt you, etc....i'm having a bad day and i just need to stream of consciousness for a little bit. sorry.

so my mom died. if you've read my personal posts before or whatever, you probably figured that out. it happened on thursday february 15th around noon. luckily we had a bit of notice that it was coming, so i was able to drive down the saturday prior and spend time with her—three full days where she was pretty much still herself, and part of a fourth.

it's been a really hard month. like, obviously. but i think a part of me still wasn't quite ready for it. i don't know how.

my mom was first diagnosed with breast cancer in fall 2011. she had a mastectomy and went through chemo, and that was hard and scary, but it was i think technically considered stage one—a tumor that was definitely growing fast, but it hadn't spread out of the area, like not to her lymph nodes or anything, and with the treatment she went almost ten years totally symptom-free. right at the start of the pandemic, the cancer came back, but this time it was already stage four, and it was in her abdomen and uterus and intestines.

there was a time when we weren't sure she'd live more than a year. endometrial and other reproductive cancers aren't 'sexy' like breast cancer is, they're not widely studied and there aren't a lot of treatment options. when she had breast cancer i hated 'save the boobies' campaigns (and please never donate to susan komen), but now that my family has lived with another type of cancer that doesn't have tits as a draw, i hate them even more.

my mom made it four years, pretty much, since the first diagnosis. she did chemo, and radiation, and went on medication trials, and put her body through hell to try and fight it. she lived longer than i think any of us thought she would.

the problem with that is how long i've been existing in a state of grief.

i've had years to prepare for this. i've thought about it literally thousands of times—how i'd feel, how i'd tell people, what i'd do after. i pictured it, because i was trying to plan. i was trying to get myself ready.

turns out pre-grieving isn't real. turns out you can't get this pain out of the way by experiencing it in advance. much to my chagrin. i'm not sure there was a way to avoid it, though. so here i am, with four years of grief behind me, and not one second of it has made what's going on now any easier.

some days i forget. every time i'm on twitter or instagram, there are posts i want to send her, and then i don't know what to do with myself. for all that my relationship with her had its hard times, she was my mom, she was my best friend. i love her more than anything and i don't know what to do with myself now that she's gone.

i've been sort of just surviving for the last four weeks. my apartment is a mess, i'm barely leaving, i haven't been good at responding to people. so today i thought i'd at least clean up a little. i'd gone to target a day or two before i drove down to my parents', and i figured i would start with those bags, because they were just sitting there.

i'd forgotten that i bought valentine's day cards for my whole family that i wanted to send. one for each of my brothers, one for my dad, one for my mom. i never sent them, obviously, i didn't even bring them with me. i burst into tears when i pulled them out of the bag, and i've been crying pretty much all day since then. i'm never going to pick out a card for my mom ever again.

i also have a notes app file sitting on my phone. she wrote each of us letters, and my dad sent them out to us, but i haven't been able to open mine yet. it's the last new thing she'll ever say to me. how could i possibly be ready for that? how do i know when the right time to read that will be?

one thing my mom wanted was to die at home. she didn't want it to be in a hospital, and i get it. she spent a month in the hospital after christmas, and god knows how much time cumulatively over the last four years. the fact that she was able to push to get home is something i don't understand, because she was so sick—but she did it somehow. she was able to die in her bed.

and i was with her. like. i wasn't just at home, i was with her.

something they don't tell you about having someone die is you have to start arranging stuff before it actually happens. when we woke up on the 15th, we knew it was only a matter of time—her eyes weren't all the way open and her breath was labored, and she couldn't talk, although at first she still tried to say stuff. we sat there with her and kept her company and talked to her. hospice came by around 11 or 11:30, i don't even remember, and said that based on whatever measurements or readings they take (pupils? breathing? i don't know), it would be between 4-8 hours, and he recommended that my dad call the funeral home. because you have to do that first.

so my youngest brother was driving down from where he lives, my middle brother was in his room, my dad was in his room on the phone, and i stayed with her, because....well, of course, right? and i was just kind of talking, and crying, but trying not to...i don't know, beg her to stay? ask for more time? the nurse said she could still hear, they're pretty sure that hearing and understanding what's being said is the last thing to go, and i didn't want her to feel bad or guilty, or to hurt herself in an effort to stay longer even though there's nothing more that i've ever wanted in my life.

so i told her, you know, we'll be okay. it's going to be unbearably sad, and it's going to suck, but all the stuff we did as a family with her—we'll still do it. and we'll be okay. and there's nothing more important to us than her not hurting anymore, not being miserable and stuck and just...not herself. all that matters to us right now is her, and she didn't have to worry about us, because we'd be okay.

and she took in a breath. there was a pause. she took in another one. and she stopped. that was it.

i didn't even realize at first, not right the second it happened. the hospice booklet had talked about a 'death rattle', about how it happens almost all the time, but that it's more distressing for the people with the person dying than them, that they're not in pain. how the fuck would they know that, i'm not sure i believe it, but...it's what i was expecting. that didn't happen, though. she just stopped breathing.

the amount of guilt i felt for my dad being out of the room...i don't know if that will ever leave me. he said it was ok, because he was having to deal with stuff, and he'd spent a lot of time with her and it was fine, but jesus. how do i not feel like i stole that from him?

i've felt like a shell ever since. i'm back where i live, and i'm getting up and going to work and taking care of my dog and trying to stay connected to life, but...i don't know.

how is it that she's gone? how is this possible? how am i supposed to go the rest of my life without her?

i had four years to get ready for this, and i wasn't. i don't think there's any way i really could have been, but still. it doesn't seem fair that it was so hard for so long, and for NOTHING. nothing is easier now.

i'm sick of feeling sad, and hurt. i feel like i should be over it or something? i don't know, maybe just less actively affected? it's been a month. people's parents die all the time, right?

what am i supposed to do?

[batneko]

Can you believe I've been drawing the Undead Kingdom AU for three years? I sure can't!

But since I actually remembered in time to prepare something this year, I present to you an AU of an AU:

Squire Beauto

(in which Amai never gave in to the curse, never reinvented himself, and yet finds himself on a remarkably similar path) rated: T for swearing and innuendo words: 12,317 tw: bullying, light bdsm, religious baggage

"Come on, Dogface! We're burning daylight!"

This was not, in fact, true. The sun hadn't even fully crested the horizon, and the one the knights called "Dogface" had been up since long before. He ate, bathed, and dressed alone, then woke the young squire to serve breakfast to the knights and pack up the camp.

Now he finished loading the last pack on the last horse, hitched his own bag over his shoulders, and followed the rest of the group. Unnoticed, the crows followed him.

The tallest knight (a bit shorter than Dogface without his boots) shifted his armor as he walked. “You left my straps too loose again. We're not all as porky as you, Dogface.”

The other two knights chuckled, though both of them looked heavier than Dogface. Fighting in full armor took a lot of brute strength, and most knights tended on the stocky side. The fact that Dogface was being singled out for his weight said far more about the speaker than it did the target.

There was a pause of several seconds. Dogface wore an old-fashioned bucket helmet that completely covered his head. No expression could be seen, and when he spoke there was nothing but polite subservience in his voice. “I see. I won’t do that next time.”

They kept walking, the crows kept following, and Psykos kept watch through their eyes.

“They're all the way from R Kingdom,” Psykos said, keeping her eyes on her crystal. “You can tell by the accent, bunch of hicks.”

“Why would knights from R Kingdom come here?” Fubuki asked, leaning over her shoulder. Her hand was cool even through the fabric of Psykos' dress.

“The usual,” Psykos said. But she added, quietly, “They prayed before their meal.”

“Oh.”

More than one religion decried the undead as unholy. Only a few decided that meant all undead should be unilaterally wiped out. Psykos would have expected more hymns and solemnity if that was what this group was really after, but she was sure they wouldn't have traveled so far without believing they were on a mission from their god.

“Will you sing for us, Squire Beauto?” the young squire asked. So that was the older one's name. Now she could stop thinking of him by that ridiculous nickname.

“Yeah, Dogface,” the tallest knight said. “Give us a song.”

If he chose a hymn, Psykos would stop observing now and rally the army.

Beauto didn't audibly sigh, but his shoulders (already stooped) rose and then slumped. After a moment, his voice came from behind the helmet.

Not a hymn. A ballad. One of those old ones about jealousy and betrayal and murder. Squire Beauto sang with a strong clear voice – a tenor, unless Psykos missed her guess – and he was good. Ballads weren't designed to strain a singer's talents, but he nailed every note. Psykos would have paid money for this.

“They brought a bard?” Fubuki asked. She couldn't see through the crystal as well as Psykos could, but the sound carried.

“No, that's a squire.”

“He missed his calling, then.” She straightened up. “Shame if we'll have to kill him.”

“I know.”

***

They reached the castle shortly before noon. There had been one stop for rest and food an hour earlier, but "rest" applied only to the knights, of course. Beauto and Atama were expected to serve them just like always. As soon as Beauto sat down for a moment he had Sir Kakato barking at him, "Come on Dogface, don't be so lazy!"

It was always the same. If he sat, he was lazy. If he ate in front of others, he was a glutton. If he slipped up even slightly in keeping himself and his clothes spotlessly clean, he was a slob.

It was better now, with the helmet, but the knights still knew. Kakato still knew.

So Beauto was tired and hungry and ready to kill someone when he arrived at the castle of the undead king. It was almost disappointing when there was no one to try and stop them.

"Doesn't look like much," Sir Onaka said.

Beauto didn't agree, but he knew what he meant. "I doubt this was the main palace," Beauto said. "I think that got destroyed when the last prince cursed the country."

Onaka stared at him for a few seconds, and Beauto added, "Sir."

Kakato clicked his tongue. "Mind your manners, squire," he said. "Your behavior reflects on me, remember?"

All the more reason to ignore propriety, Beauto thought, but it wasn't true. Nobody had ever blamed Beauto's behavior on anyone but himself. He even got blamed for things he'd been nowhere near. He even got blamed for getting attacked.

“I know, Sir Kakato,” Beauto said. “I will be mindful.”

They entered the castle by the front doors. There may have been a side or back entrance once, but the ground around the castle had risen up in jagged points, blocking off all but the face of the building. It wasn't built to be defensible but it certainly was now.

The entry hall was wide, tiled in cracked slate covered with random carpets. Sir Onaka drifted to the side and pulled aside a curtain, whistling at the painting behind it.

It was a hunting scene, deer running across green hills. No part of the country looked like that now.

"Gold frame," Onaka said.

"Look at this," Sir Tsume called from the other side.

She'd found a small table with a basket full of flowers and a vase waiting to be filled. The staff must have fled without finishing their tasks when they heard knights were coming.

Sir Tsume picked up the vase. "Porcelain," she said, tapping it with a fingernail, "the good stuff."

The three knights exchanged glances. Beauto did his best to ignore them.

"Let's split up," Tsume said. "Do a little… scouting."

Beauto was instantly disappointed; Tsume had the most level head among the three of them, and he'd been hoping she'd stop the others if they suggested the same thing.

"Works for me," Kakato said, grinning.

"Figure out what to grab on the way out, and we'll meet up at the throne room."

"I'll take the squires, you two stick together?"

"Works for me," Tsume said, and Onaka nodded.

Beauto said nothing. What was the point?

When the group found a doorway they made the split; Kakato in the lead, Squire Atama sticking close to him, and Beauto with his hand on his sword hilt bringing up the rear. They walked for some time without encountering any people, living or dead. Occasionally they heard footsteps fading into the distance, occasionally they encountered a locked door, but mostly it was hallway after hallway.

They must have chosen the wrong direction, because the doors themselves got less and less ornate the further they walked. These were the areas where the servants traveled, the part of the castle where work got done.

Beauto was intimately familiar.

“Nothing,” Kakato said, and spat on the floor.

It was stone tile, with mismatched carpet runners in the center of each hall. If his spittle had hit the carpet Beauto may very well have slugged him, damn the consequences.

“Let’s go back,” Kakato said, and Beauto followed without a word.

They took a different path this time, back into the palatial part of the palace. Here, the carpets were coordinated and embroidered - though Beauto noticed they seemed very worn. Old, then. Cleaned so often their colors had faded and fibers had begun to wear away.

The wall hangings (and there were many) were newer. In a large building like this there were often drafts no matter how many fires were lit, and thick fabric trapped heat. It helped that they were beautiful, rich velvet, made from silk in the old style unless Beauto missed his guess. He found himself reaching out as they passed to touch a particularly charming drape embossed with stylized wheat, only remembering to pull his hand back a moment before his fingers reached the fabric. He was always lectured when he dared to put his hands on anything expensive. As if he would dirty it by his very presence.

Funny. If the kingdom was full of undead, why did they work so hard to keep the castle warm?

A scream ripped through the air, and Beauto had his sword half-pulled before he’d fully turned. Kakato was only a second behind him, shoving him aside as he sprang into action.

Except… there was nothing there. No one, living or dead. Just Beauto and Kakato.

Just Beauto and Kakato.

“Sir, where’s Atama?” Beauto said.

“What?” Kakato’s head whipped back and forth. “I thought you were watching him!”

“I-” He’d been distracted. Lost in thought and dreams of luxury. “I didn’t-”

“Fuck,” Kakato said. Vulgar as ever. “Well it’s too late for him. Let’s find the others and kill that monster they call a king. That’ll be a fitting tribute to Squire Atama.”

“He’s not dead,” Beauto said through gritted teeth. “Not until we’ve seen a body.”

“He’s a goner, Dogface! There’s no point!”

Beauto snapped his sword back into its sheath. “I’m going to have a look.”

“Fine, it’s your funeral.” Kakato waved one hand as he turned. “We’ll get all the glory for wiping out that monstrosity, and you’ll lose whatever chance you had of finally getting knighted.”

Beauto stopped.

He clenched his fists, his jaw, his whole body so tight he was certain he was trembling. Right now it was just the two of them. If he were to beat Kakato to a pulp - or less - no one would ever know it was Beauto. It would be blamed on the undead, doing what everyone expected of them.

He heard the clank of Kakato’s armored boots walking away, unbothered, probably barely even remembering what he’d said. He certainly didn’t seem to think about any of it before he spoke. He couldn’t know how much it rankled, every single day, to serve a knight a year younger than him.

Beauto stepped forward, in the direction of the scream.

Atama wasn’t far. Almost as soon as Beauto set foot in the last servant’s hallway they’d left, the boy ran straight into him. He came away with a scratch on his chin from Beauto’s old layered plate armor, but otherwise seemed unharmed.

“What’s wrong?” Beauto asked. “What happened?”

“There was a skull!”

Beauto stared at him. He was grateful every day for the helmet that hid his face, but never moreso when he was sure he couldn’t keep his expression neutral.

“That’s all?” Beauto said. “This castle is overrun with undead, of course there are skulls lying around.”

“It wasn’t lying around, it was on a stake!” Atama said. “I just- I just turned a corner and there it was!”

“Probably marking a room where they keep bodies for resurrection or something,” Beauto said. “Seriously, that was enough to make you scream? Weren’t you already prepared to face things like that once you heard where we were going?”

“Well, I was, but…” Good, at least he wasn’t panicking anymore. “This place just looks so… normal, you know? It looks like the castle back home.” He frowned a little. “But they have nicer stuff than we do.”

“It’s easy to have nice things when you have no qualms about robbing graves,” Beauto said. “Come on, let’s find the others. Sir Kakato was afraid you might be dead.”

A small lie, a white lie, but it didn’t count because Atama didn’t look like he believed it for a second.

They walked side-by-side this time. Beauto enjoyed feeling like a reliable senior squire for the few minutes it took to find their way back, and then he led the way with his mood sinking step by step. It was easy to find the throne room - just like Atama said, this castle was very much like the one back home. And besides, a throne room should never be difficult to find. The whole point was showing off the liege’s splendor.

Even if it wasn’t easy, they would have found it quickly. The sounds of fighting and swearing echoed down the halls.

Both squires took off running, passing through the massive double doors and into the empty space. Beauto felt cold the moment he stepped inside. For a split second he thought it was dark magic, but then he noticed the room lacked carpets or drapes aside from two on the dais that held the throne itself. It was wide open, all stone, not even furniture aside from that single tall chair.

And in front of him, locked in combat with Sir Kakato, was the undead king.

He was about average height (Beauto noted the click-clack of heeled boots and amended that) a little under average height, with the cropped short hair of a soldier and the shadowed eyes of an insomniac. If it wasn't for the bloodless pallor of his skin Beauto would have taken him for a living human, and a rather handsome one at that. He certainly didn't dress like a king. Then again, maybe the knights had caught him in the middle of changing. Beauto couldn't think of another reason his shirt would be half-buttoned like that.

He fought wielding a massive sword, hardly more than a slab of metal with a handle, and he moved far more gracefully than someone encumbered by such a weight should. Unnatural strength, no need to rest or fear muscle strain, a being that existed outside human limitations.

As Beauto watched, the undead king brought his sword down so hard it cracked the blade of Kakato’s, then swept the knight’s legs out from under him with a kick. One-handed, the king picked up Kakato by the straps on the back of his armor and tossed him on top of the other two knights, already lying prone on the floor.

Beauto shrugged off his pack and threw it to the side before drawing his sword. It was smaller than the king’s; a hand-and-a-half sword, a “bastard” sword as Kakato liked to remind him. Lighter than a broadsword but stronger than a short sword. Against an unarmored human Beauto would always have the advantage.

“Take care of them,” Beauto snapped at Atama. “I’ll take care of him.”

He was surprised to see the undead king smirk as Beauto charged him. “Cocky, aren’t we?” the king said.

They met, blades crashing together. The weight was intense, just as Beauto had been afraid of, but he was a better fighter than Kakato. With the king’s attention on his sword, Beauto leaned back and kicked the man square in the gut.

Even with unnatural strength, a body reacted to that. The king made an undignified noise as his breath escaped him, and stumbled backward, giving Beauto just enough time to swing again and cut deep into the side of his neck.

Blood burst from the wound, spurting over the king’s ridiculous ornamental shoulder armor, turning into a fountain as Beauto pulled his sword free. For perhaps a tenth of a second Beauto thought he might have won, but the blood stopped as quickly as it started, and aside from the fresh coat of red the king’s neck looked good as new two-tenths of a second later.

“Damn,” Beauto muttered.

“What did you expect?” the king said with a laugh.

He had… a nice laugh, actually. Deep, warm, with the merest hint of gravel to it.

“I’ll just have to keep trying,” Beauto said.

They clashed again, blade hitting blade, Beauto grateful for his armor more than once, and the king only taking a split second to recover every time Beauto hit one of his openings. When you healed that quickly you must not need to learn to guard your vitals. Beauto was almost jealous.

It only went on for a few minutes. Real fights were like that, not like the theater where actors both in the duel and observing it could deliver full monologues while wooden swords knocked together. A real fight was quick, and messy, and you didn’t have time to think of anything other than not getting stabbed in the liver. That was why knights trained for years to be able to battle on instinct instead of thinking about every move.

Beauto wasn’t a knight, but he’d trained more than any of them. And he’d been getting into fights (that is to say, preventing himself from being beaten) for even longer.

He felt himself slip, and he saw the king’s massive sword swing into his cone of vision, and all he had time to think was -

Why couldn’t it be my face?

The sword hit his side, where the layered armor didn’t cover, and the shock of pain sent him stumbling. It didn’t feel like he’d been cut, but he was wounded now, and the king would easily be able to take advantage of that. The fight was as good as over.

As he shifted the weight of his sword to his other side, he heard a creak of what sounded like door hinges.

It was foolish, but he couldn’t stop himself from looking. Beauto saw the double doors pulling shut, Kakato on one side and Tsume on the other. When Kakato saw Beauto’s head turned in their direction, he smiled suddenly and shouted, “You got this Dogface!”

Then the doors were shut, with all three knights and one squire on the other side of them.

“What?” Beauto said. It couldn’t be. They couldn’t have really just abandoned him, could they? Anyway, what idiot would make doors to a throne room that locked from the outside?

He ran to them and pulled on the handles, the wood creaking but refusing to open. It felt not just locked, but barred.

“What…” Beauto said again. “What idiot makes doors to a throne room that lock from the outside?”

“Oh, we put that in after we took over,” the undead king said, conversationally. “For, y’know, this type of thing.”

Beauto glared at him, though he knew he couldn’t see it. “Trapping people?”

He grinned. Something about it made Beauto’s chest feel tight in the way usually only novels did.

“Yes,” the undead king said. “Trapping prey.”

He was bluffing, Beauto realized immediately. He hadn't killed any of the knights, and Beauto hadn't even been cut by a direct blow from his sword. But the knights wouldn't have known that, not even Sir Tsume. They locked him in here with an undead thing, believing that it would kill him.

"They took my bag…" Beauto realized. He'd dropped it inside the doors, and now it was gone.

They'd left him to die and made sure to salvage his part of their supplies.

“Wow, seriously?" Beauto heard the king say. "What assholes. You need better friends, sir knight."

"Wrong on all counts," Beauto said through gritted teeth.

"How so?"

"I'm not a knight, I'm a squire," he said. "And they are not my friends."

"A squire?" the king repeated. "Aren't they usually- You're not one of those super tall teenagers, are you?"

"I'm twenty-four!" Beauto said, letting his exasperation bleed into his voice. What was the point in hiding it now? It was that same thought that led him to admit, "I was this tall by the time I became a squire, though."

He was sure that was the only reason he was finally chosen. It was embarrassing to have a page the size of a grown man, especially since guests kept assuming he was a footman or guard. The seneschal must have bullied Sir Hana into it. He was a senior knight, he barely needed any help anyway, but once he'd gotten used to looking at Beauto he did actually bother to teach him. Beauto would always be grateful to him for that.

“You're probably telling the truth,” the king said, thoughtfully. “That's too specific of a number to be a lie.”

“If I was lying I'd tell you I was thirty,” Beauto said.

The king laughed, a more genuine one this time. “But that's weird, isn't it?” the king said. “Aren't most squires teenagers?”

“Not all,” Beauto muttered.

“Apparently not. What did you do that they won’t make you-”

Beauto turned, sword in hand, and charged once more at the undead king.

The man barely managed to block his strike. That big blade of his almost worked better as a shield than a weapon, but if Beauto had him on the defensive that was a good thing. He'd caught his breath, and he knew now that the king didn't want him dead. There was no reason not to fight until he couldn't move.

He took advantage of his greater speed, especially now that he didn't have to worry about leaving openings. The king could do little more than dodge and attempt to block Beauto's relentless assault. An assault he didn't want to end too quickly. When would he ever get another chance like this? To fight to his heart's content, to hurt someone as much as he wanted with no consequence?

He kept his attacks to the king's extremities. A slash on the arm, a deep cut on the thigh, watching the king's face as he flinched each time, though never for long. Beauto actually managed to cut through a finger, though the leather of the king's glove held enough that Beauto could see the flesh knit back together.

Beauto drove him back, toward the dais where his throne sat. As expected, the king tripped on the first step, and that was enough for Beauto to knock the sword out of his hand, kick his feet out from under him, and pin him to the floor with a boot on his back.

For a moment Beauto didn't move. Neither did the king, though his breath came in wheezes. Beauto knew, from experience, that it was difficult to get out of this position. If the one stepping on you used any weight at all (and Beauto did) you couldn't just roll out from under them. It was hard to grab onto something in the middle of your own back, and what would you do with it if you could? Not to mention the pressure compressing your lungs and making it difficult to breathe.

Beauto brought his sword down, hovered the blade next to the king's face, and pressed the tip against his cheek until he turned it enough to look up at him.

“What are you going to do?” the king said. He was flushed from exertion, making him look more alive. “Cutting my head off won't kill me. Stabbing me in the heart won't even slow me down.”

“I've got no reason to kill you, but I've got nothing left to lose either.” Without shifting his weight, Beauto carefully sheathed his sword. “We're both stuck here until your people or mine open that door.”

Then he bent forward and retrieved the knife he kept tucked into his boot. He couldn't help grinning at the way the king's eyes widened when he saw the flash of metal.

“You are at my mercy, your highness,” Beauto said, keeping his voice cool despite the way his heart was pounding. “And I am not a merciful man.”

The king bit his lip. Beauto had been expecting the blood to drain from his face, but if anything he flushed a little more.

“Okay,” the king said, “but you can't get mad if I get a boner about it.”

Beauto startled, and instinct had him press his heel harder into the king's back to keep him in place. The king let out a breathless noise that didn't sound entirely like pain.

“What?” Beauto said. His voice was low, in that way that usually made people recoil from him. He cleared his throat to try again, but the king was smiling.

“Does it ruin it for you if I enjoy it too?” he said. “Sorry to say I'm actually desperate enough that almost anything you do with that knife is going to be fun for me.”

Beauto brandished the knife again, a glint of light off the blade seeming to reflect in the king's eye. “You like this?”

“Knifeplay's not my favorite but I do like it, yeah.”

Beauto swallowed.

He shouldn't ask, but... he couldn't stop himself.

“What's your favorite, then?”

The smile widened into a grin. “I like it hands-on. I like hair-pulling, slapping, choking. Mostly I just wanna be picked up and used like a toy.”

Beauto had to swallow again. He almost dropped his knife, he wanted so badly to immediately try something from off the king's list.

But he couldn't. This wasn't an invitation, it was a conversation. One in which he currently had all the power. The novels he read (they were easy to find, though the quality was a crapshoot. His best luck had been at the brothels Sir Kakato thought it was funny to drag him to – they often had erotica lying around for inspiration. Since none of the entertainers wanted to meet his eyes, it was easy for Beauto to tuck himself into a corner of the lounge and read while he waited) often crossed that type of line, but he knew they were fantasies. This... this kind of arrangement, it had to be negotiated beforehand.

“How did you know?” Beauto asked, quietly.

“That you’re into this too?”

Beauto nodded.

“The way you fought. You dragged it out, you hurt me instead of disarming me. You were enjoying yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” Beauto said.

“Don’t be sorry for having fun. I was too.”

“No, I… I’m sorry for taking my anger out on you, instead of the people that deserve it.”

“Apology accepted.” The king shifted beneath his boot. “Now that that’s in the open, how about letting me up?” He grinned again. “Or don’t, and do that thing with your heel again.”

He couldn’t have stopped himself. Not even with a blade to his throat. Beauto pressed the heel of his boot against the king’s back, digging the edge into his spine, and the king gave a soft gasp.

Dear god, Beauto had never been this turned on in his life.

“What’s your name, anyway?” the king asked, still breathless, a little teasing. Was this… flirtation? It was a tone that Beauto had heard before but never caused.

“Beauto,” he said. “What’s yours? Everyone only ever seems to call you ‘the undead king.’”

The flirtation (if that’s what it was) quickly disappeared. “That’s because I don’t have one. I was numbered, not named.”

Beauto barely managed a “Wh?” sound.

“They call me the undead king for a reason. I’m not exactly dead, but I’m certainly not a human. I was made in a lab by a necromancer. I’m nothing but an experiment that happens to be able to walk and talk.”

Immediately Beauto pulled his foot off the king’s back and stepped away. The king was frowning as he sat up. He had hooded eyes that exaggerated the expression, like red coals peering out of the shadow of his brow. If Beauto hadn’t already seen through him he may have been afraid.

“Disturbing, isn’t it?” the king said.

“This person made you but never bothered to name you?” Beauto said. “Of course that’s disturbing!”

The king looked surprised, for some reason. The frown fell away and he blinked up at Beauto. “Isn’t it?” he said, distantly.

“What a piece of shit,” Beauto said firmly.

“He was,” the king agreed. “Still is, probably.”

“He’s still alive?”

“Not if I ever see him again.”

Beauto nodded. He had enough practice in his helmet that the bottom of the face shield no longer clanked against his chest plate when he did. “They say the best revenge is living well, but what’s the point if you can’t rub it in their faces? Drag him before your throne and order your knights to kill him, let him see you’ve got loyalty and respect. Let him die knowing what a fool he was.”

The king’s eyes were slightly widened, but he was smiling again. “Is that a fantasy you’ve had?”

Beauto tilted his head. “No?” he asked, confused by the question. It was just logical, wasn’t it?

“No?”

“No, it’s not. Why?”

The king laughed, shaking his head. “You know, I think I like you Squire Beauto. I really do.”

Behind his helmet, Beauto smiled.

“Speaking of which…” The king, still sitting on the floor, leaned back against the bottom step of his dais. He smiled up at Beauto, something like heat in those strange red eyes of his.

His body was relaxed, his posture casual, and as Beauto looked at him he - without looking like was doing anything other than getting more comfortable - spread his thighs.

The king wore his trousers very tight.

“Did you want to step on me again?” he asked. “Or… something else, maybe?”

Beauto swallowed. His heart was pounding, his blood rushing so loudly he almost couldn’t hear his own response.

“That's... an option?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Beauto, knowing he must look like an idiot, pointed at his chest. “Me?”

“Yes,” the king said. He didn't roll his eyes, which Beauto took as a good sign he meant it.

“I’m your enemy. I was sent here to kill you as a monster. And you'd... lay with me?”

“Absolutely,” the king said. “My standards are not high right now.” He hesitated, and added, “Do you think I’m a monster?”

“No…” Beauto said, though he was sure the king heard the doubt in it.

The church taught that the undead were not truly the dead come back to life, but demons inhabiting their bodies. Putting them down was the righteous thing to do. And though Beauto didn’t believe anymore, not really (a loving god wouldn’t allow children to be cursed before they were even conceived), it was difficult to forget something you had known as a “fact” for most of your life.

“Maybe,” Beauto admitted. “But my standards aren't high either.”

The king laughed, and reached out a hand to beckon him. Beauto took a step forward. And another. And, gently, pressed his boot against the king's thigh, forcing his legs even farther apart.

“What are you going to do to me?” the king practically purred.

Beauto had never heard that actually done before. He'd read it in novels, seen actors on the stage try it, but he'd never heard it in a voice that wasn't performing. This... right now...

This was real. This was happening. He might really, really, lose his virginity. Beauto had all but given it up for a lost cause – no one would want him with this face, and his body wasn't much to speak of either. And if he managed to survive until he didn't have this face any more, what were the chances merely being average-looking would find him a partner either? At least he could hire company then.

But right now... someone wanted him. Someone hadn't seen his face, and Beauto was fairly sure he could bluff his way through this encounter without having to remove his helmet. If the king actually preferred to be treated like an object, keeping a barrier between them shouldn't be that big of a deal.

It could happen. It could work.

Trying to hide his trembling, Beauto pulled off one glove and leaned forward to grab a fistful of the king's hair. The smile never budged.

“I want you,” Beauto said. He meant it to be the beginning of a sentence, but nothing came to mind. He was so excited he was feeling light-headed.

“You've got me, baby,” the king said. As Beauto tugged at his hair, the king's eyelids fluttered in pleasure and he let out a soft moan.

Holy shit, was it normal to get dizzy when all your blood rushed to your dick? Some of those novels had been pretty stimulating, but he'd never felt like this. The strength was even going out of his fingers with how hard it hit him.

No, wait.

Beauto stumbled, putting both feet back on the floor, hoping it would keep him upright. His vision slid sideways and he saw the king, brow wrinkled in concern, reach out for him.

He hit the ground on his already-injured side, and then everything went black.

***

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Her king had grabbed Psykos by the shoulders and was shaking her. Considering she was a witch and quite a bit older than him, the responsible thing to do here would be to remain calm and allow him to get his aggression out before asking why he felt it.

Instead, Psykos kicked his shin until he let go.

“Ow!”

“Ow first! What do you mean what's wrong with me?”

“Why did you have to cast a sleep spell on the room? Why couldn't you just leave well enough alone?”

“You were in there with one of those asshole knights!” Psykos gestured at the now-open doors to the throne room, where the enchanted knight was laying on the floor, right next to the dais.

“So what? You could have come in the side door to check first!” The servant doors were used by everyone now that the castle inhabitants lived communally, but people who didn't live there never considered there might be an entrance that wasn't huge and extravagant.

“Why? This is standard procedure.”

“I know, but-”

“You're immune to most magic, so if I cast a sleep spell everyone falls over until we can run damage control.”

“I know, but-”

“But what? I shouldn't do what I've done a dozen times? I shouldn't try to help you?”

“Help me?” the king repeated. “You just coc-”

He stopped. His eyes looked off to her side, and about two feet down.

“Co... cost me a chance to get along with somebody!”

Psykos glanced back, and confirmed that Isamu was standing there ready to help. He gave her a confused smile when she met his eyes, and she patted his shoulder.

“It's okay Isamu, we're just talking. Did you get the prisoners situated?”

“Yes, they're in that wine cellar that we emptied out because the king is trying to quit drinking.” Isamu smiled at him so brightly it even hurt Psykos to look at. “We're really proud of you for doing that!”

“Yes we are,” Psykos agreed. “See? We show our appreciation when you do things.”

The king took a breath, then slowly reached up and pressed his fingers to his temples. “Reminding me of all the wine we threw away is not helping...”

“Sorry,” Psykos said.

“Sorry,” Isamu said.

"But," Psykos continued, "did you really want to get along with somebody like that? Somebody who came to kill you?"

"Not the first time," the king said, and tapped two fingers on the side of his neck. Psykos scowled and made sure her collar was tugged up high enough to cover last night's bite mark.

"Trust me, I was watching them, those knights are assholes."

"He's not a knight," the king said.

Psykos looked, closer this time, at the figure laying on the floor. He was wearing only partial armor, an old-fashioned breastplate made of layered metal plates, and an even older bucket helmet. And he was on his back, flat, with his arms straight at his sides. Very unlikely he'd fallen that way naturally. The king must have repositioned him.

"The squire," she said. "The one they called-" She cut herself off. What was his real name? "Bureau?"

"Beauto," the king said.

"Beauto. Right. He was…" He was the one they were all being assholes to. "He seemed all right."

"And you just knocked him out right when things were getting good." The king rubbed his hands over his head, curling his fingers into his hair. "Shit, he's going to think it was a trap. Think I was buying time, not…"

"It's my fault," Psykos said quickly. "I'll apologize and explain everything if you want."

The king looked up.

"The spell will last about an hour, let's put him in a guest room so he knows he's not a prisoner as soon as he wakes up."

"You think?" the king said.

He looked so hopeful. This was more than just a cockblock situation, the king really liked this guy.

"I'm sure," Psykos said.

After all, she'd seen his face. He couldn't have a line of prospective lovers knocking down his door. If a king - undead or not - was interested in him, Beauto would be a fool to say no.

***

Beauto woke in bed. For a moment he was disoriented, feeling like he'd been dreaming something completely ridiculous. He reached out for his helmet, like he did every morning he spent in the barracks, hiding his face as quickly as possible before any of the younger squires woke up.

His hand met nothing but more bedding. Soft, plush mattress, smooth fabric. This was not his bed.

The castle. The king.

Beauto jolted upright. The curtains in the room were open, sunlight streaming in, unimpeded by either curtains or the face shield of Beauto's helmet.

"Shit!" He covered as much of his face as he could with one hand and fumbled for the edge of the bed. Who took it? Why? The king hadn't seen, had he?

"Oh hey, you're awake!" The king stood up from a chair in the corner. He was smiling, nearly as bright as the sun, looking Beauto right in the eye.

Beauto threw himself backward and covered himself with the sheet.

"What's wrong?" he heard the king ask.

"Why?" Beauto demanded. "Why did you take my helmet, why?"

He could feel himself choking up. This was foolish, it was just sex, he'd known it was never going to happen for him.

"Why? Why?"

Why did he feel like crying? Why did this upset him so much?

"Okay, okay," he heard the king moving around the room. "I wasn't supposed to, I guess? I'm sorry. Is this a religious thing, or…"

"Why would you do it?" Beauto said. Begged. "I don't understand, why couldn't you just- just- Why?"

"You were knocked out, we wanted to make you more comfortable while you had to lay there."

"We?" Beauto repeated. "Who else saw?"

"Uh, a couple of guards? Hana and- Shit, I can never remember Ami's dad's name."

"Three people saw me? You saw my face?"

"I'm really sorry, I didn't know I wasn't supposed to."

Beauto could see the shadow of him moving, between the sheet and the window. The king was close, too close. What did he want? He couldn't want what he'd wanted before.

"Here's your helmet," the king said, his shadow holding something out.

Beauto stuck one hand out of the blanket, and when metal touched his fingers he whisked the heavy object under the covers with him to safety.

Only once he was sure he was hidden did Beauto pull the sheets off his head.

"Where's the rest of my armor?" His clothes were intact, only his armor and boots had been removed. Ugh. Undressed like a doll.

"Over here." 

Through the eye slits in the helmet, Beauto saw the king gesture at the same corner where he'd been sitting. There was an armor stand there, a real one, looking naked without more than the random pieces Beauto was permitted to wear.

He turned away from the king, making sure his tunic hem was pulled down and his trousers were pulled up before climbing out of the opposite side of the bed.

"Do I have permission to leave?" Beauto asked, trying his best to maintain what dignity he had. His voice was still shaky and thick with snot.

"You're not a prisoner," the king said, sadly. Of course he'd be disappointed. "I'd like it if you stayed as a guest, but that's entirely up to you. No hard feelings here, I promise."

Beauto didn't believe it but he didn't dare call it out. He hadn't lied, the king had never asked to see his face, but realizing he'd nearly slept with someone who looked like Beauto must have felt like dodging a cannon ball.

"What happened to my… traveling party?"

"They were caught trying to loot the castle. The rule around here is that anyone's allowed to challenge me to a fight, the rest of the residents and staff will get out of the way, but stealing isn't something we can tolerate."

"At least let me take Squire Atama," Beauto said. "He's only fifteen, he hasn't had a chance to know better."

"What?" the king said. He shook his head. "You can take all of them, we don't want them, I just meant my political advisor cast a sleep spell on them and tossed them in the wine cellar."

Beauto blinked. He hadn't quite shed any tears, but his eyes still felt tired. "Your… political advisor?"

"She's pretty good at manipulating people so it was as good a title as any. But she's a witch if that's what you mean."

"Why the wine cellar?"

"We don't have dungeons or anything. It's an enclosed room with nothing in it at the moment, and the only door is at the top of a narrow staircase so we've got the advantage if they try to break out."

"You don't have dungeons," Beauto said, flatly.

"No. I think this castle used to be a fancy hunting lodge."

"What do you do with all the other knights that try to kill you?"

"They usually fight themselves into exhaustion and then we toss 'em out."

Beauto shook his head. No wonder so many rumors had spread about this damned kingdom and the "monster" that ruled it. They kept letting their enemies survive! Let them leave humiliated and carrying a grudge!

"I'll tell them we lost," Beauto said. "I… won't tell anyone about what-" No, the king wouldn't even want Beauto to acknowledge what had almost happened. "I'll go," he said, quietly. "I won't come back. The knights won't talk about me when they tell this story, they never do. No one will ever know I was here."

Beauto had been standing there with his face turned down, no desire to see the look at the king's expression when Beauto alluded to their near-tryst. Would it be anger? Disgust? Fear? He'd gotten all three before, and in every combination.

"I'm sorry," the king said. "It wasn't a trick, I swear. I didn't want Psykos to knock you out."

"I know." But he must be glad for it now. He'd probably give her a raise.

“You can ask her yourself!”

“There's no need.”

“Can you tell me why people shouldn't see your face? Or is it a personal thing.”

In surprise, Beauto looked up at him. The king's expression was… confused. Concerned. Not a trace of disgust.

“Why would I want anyone to see it?”

“Because… it's your face?” The king's brow squiggled like one of those flat-faced dogs.

“And now that you've seen it, do you still want to bed me?”

“Yes?” the king said.

“You see? That's why-” Beauto stopped. “What did you say?”

“I- I said yes?” the king said. “I wanted you when as far as I knew you had no face, why would seeing you make me feel different?”

He tilted his head, as if Beauto were an abstract painting he was trying to figure out. Beauto was very glad he wasn't being seen at the moment, because his mouth was opening and closing like a goldfish as he tried to process what he'd just heard.

Yes. The king said yes. He still wanted him.

It couldn't be possible.

“That can't be possible,” Beauto muttered aloud.

The king's expression changed, smoothed out, his eyes widening. “You really believe that,” he said. He shook his head. “Holy shit, who hurt you?”

Beauto gave a mirthless huff of laughter. “Everyone?”

Over two decades of memories hit Beauto all at once, and he sunk back down onto the edge of the bed.

“Everyone,” he said again. “No one has ever seen my face and not been put off by it.”

He heard the king's voice behind him, and felt the bed sink as he sat on the other side. “Really? I mean... it's not that I don't believe you, it's just... Are you sure?”

Beauto would be angry if it was anyone else, but there was nothing to gain for the king to jerk him around like this. Nothing but sick sadistic pleasure, and Beauto knew what that looked like from both sides. This wasn't bullying, this was ignorance.

“You said it yourself, didn't you? You asked what I'd done that I still haven't been made a knight. The answer is... be born like this.” Beauto smiled to himself. He had to smile, or he'd start screaming. “I've been a squire longer than I was a page, now, but that was a long time too. No knight wanted the ugly kid to strap on their armor for them.”

“But... but that's...”

Beauto turned. His helmet slits weren't wide enough that he could see the king unless he pulled one leg up on the bed and brought his whole body sideways. He was surprised to see the king had done the same, leaning toward him across the mattress.

“The knights... Well, you heard them. You know what they call me.”

“They're assholes,” the king said. “Who cares what they think?”

“Everyone thinks it. When you look like me, people are happy to jump to the worst conclusions.” Beauto had to avert his gaze again. "And… they're not entirely wrong. You know what I am. What I like."

“Nobody gets to choose what they're turned on by,” the king said. “Being an asshole is a choice. Every time.”

“You make it sound so simple,” Beauto said.

“It should be simple! It shouldn't have to be hard to expect basic human decency!”

Beauto looked up, and saw the king wince.

“Sorry… I think I'm projecting a little here.”

“Ah.” Of course, someone visibly undead would have faced even worse than Beauto ever had. And the king had been made this way, he said. He was never an ordinary human.

But it rankled, somehow. Being compared to something that never should have expected to be accepted. Beauto was a victim of a generations-old curse, he wasn't a monster like the king.

He said none of this out loud, having learned a long time ago that thoughts like that would never be rewarded.

“You’re right,” Beauto said. That was usually a safe bet, although he’d already forgotten what they were talking about.

“Damn right I’m right,” the king said, full of confidence. And then added, “What were we talking about?”

In spite of everything, Beauto laughed.

The king smiled at him, all warm eyes and soft lips. It still felt like Beauto would be thrown out of this bedroom at any moment, but he couldn’t help enjoying the view.

“You have an amazing voice, you know that?” the king said suddenly.

“Yes,” Beauto said, bluntly. That was the one thing he’d refuse to accept insults about. “I’m a singer. I was in the church choir for all of my childhood, and I’d have liked to do it for a living, but I was… gently discouraged from following that path.”

The king shook his head. “It’s the world’s loss.”

Beauto smiled. “Well… maybe in six years.”

“What’s in six years? Are you on a squiring contract?”

“That’s not a thing,” Beauto laughed. “No, it’s the deadline for the curse. That’s why I look like this, my bloodline is cursed.”

The king blinked a couple times, and his wispy brows drew together in confusion. “You’re cursed?”

“I think- I hope that’s why people react the way they do. That it’s magic and not human nature making them turn against me as soon as they get a look.” Beauto sighed. “But I doubt it.”

“We can solve that!” The king sat up straight and clapped his hands together. “I have a witch!”

Beauto did not succeed in stopping the king from calling his “political advisor” into the bedroom. Nor did he stop the woman (she looked mid-twenties but mages could sometimes extend their lives through unethical means, and her clothes were several decades out of date) from rattling off half of a rehearsed apology before the king stopped her.

“I explained all that,” he said. “He's cursed, Psykos.”

The king had at least had the foresight to move them to chairs, but there were only two in the room and the king had - of all things - elected to perch on the tea table between them instead of calling for a third. It was strange, but having him there as a buffer made Beauto feel more at ease.

“How so?” the woman, Psykos, asked.

The king turned to Beauto, waiting for him to explain, and Beauto allowed himself a sigh. He'd explained this so many times in his life that he'd gotten bored. How could you sum up a lifetime of suffering in a few sentences?

“It's my whole family. The firstborn is always born hideously ugly, no matter what their parents looked like. At twenty we gain shapeshifting powers, but if we use them we'll die in ten years.”

“Well that's some bullshit,” the woman said, as if Beauto had described something no more serious than a rude encounter at the pub.

“I’ve managed to hold out for four years, two months, and thirteen days.”

“Let's see,” the woman said.

She reached out for Beauto’s hand, and he automatically flinched back.

“I'm sorry,” she said, more gently. “If it's on your bloodline I'll need to touch you to get an idea. If I can see your face it'll be even easier, since that's that part it affects the most.”

Beauto didn’t move. Her words made sense, but he hadn’t willingly taken his helmet off in front of another human in over three years. Why would he, when all it did was destroy any favorable impressions they might have?

She wouldn’t be able to break the curse. No one could, no one had, not in at least three generations of searching. The king might not mind Beauto’s face, but the king was undead. Maybe the curse didn’t affect him in the same way.

“If it makes a difference, I’ve already seen you without that thing,” the woman said.

Beauto shrunk back further. The king said that he and two guards saw him, but he hadn’t said anything about this witch.

“When? Why?” Beauto demanded.

“I can see through the eyes of some animals, so it’s part of my job to keep an eye on any new visitors to the area. Your traveling party was suspicious, and I checked in on you several times over the last few days. I saw you getting ready before the others woke up.”

Beauto winced.

“I saw the way they treated you,” she added.

The ever-familiar anger began to well up within him. Of course she had. Of course. It was bad enough he’d been exposed literally, why not figuratively as well? At this point he could strip and feel less naked.

Fuck it.

Beauto pulled his helmet off and threw it across the room. He heard it bounce off the bed frame and rattle along the floor, coming to a rest just out of the corner of his eye. He glared at the woman’s face, and saw, just as he’d expected, shock and disgust twist her features.

“Oh that is nasty,” she said.

“I told you!” Beauto snapped. He tried to get up, but the king leaned over and grabbed his hand.

“No, come on baby, hear her out.”

“Why?” he said.

“That’s not what she meant.” The king turned to her and hissed, “It’s not, is it?”

“No!” the woman said, raising her hands quickly. “I just haven’t seen a death curse that detailed before.”

Beauto felt his brow furrow, before remembering his bare face and trying to compose himself. “Yes, I said it was deadly.”

“Not deadly,” the woman said. “A death curse. Meaning it was powered by death.”

Beauto sunk back in his seat. “Someone… killed someone to curse my family?”

“Maybe,” she said. “But that’s difficult as hell. This looks to me more like the caster died.”

“H… how?”

“Hard to say whether it was suicide or they were already dying. But either way, this is what they did with their last breath.”

Beauto shook his head. Whatever was showing on his face, it made the king take his hand.

“What did my ancestor do to this person?”

“Whatever it was, it wasn’t worth dooming their whole family,” the woman said. “Don’t dwell on it.”

“No, I…” Beauto covered his mouth with his free hand.

He could picture it. A handsome bully, tormenting someone for their looks until that person felt they couldn’t go on. But they’d get their revenge, oh yes, they would make that bastard pay. They would make his grandchildren pay. None of them would ever forget what it was like to be the easy target.

He’d do the same thing in their place.

“Don’t dwell on it,” the king repeated, softly.

“I’m not,” Beauto lied.

“I can try to break it,” the woman said. “But this kind of magic is thorny. It’ll take me years to unravel, maybe a decade or more.”

Slowly, Beauto raised his head. “But you can do it?”

“I can, if you can wait that long.”

Years… He had six years left before the curse broke on its own, but if he could shorten that even a day he would go for it. And if it was longer, then… Then it wouldn’t matter, really. But if she could break it for him, she could break it for others.

“I don’t intend to have children, but I’d certainly like to remove the possibility of passing it on, just in case.”

“You don’t want kids?” the king said. There was just a bit too much interest in his tone.

“I didn’t think anyone would ever want me for a partner, so I haven’t considered it,” Beauto said.

“You have any experience with ‘em?”

“Kids? Yes, I have three younger half-siblings. We’re not close but we got along well enough.”

They were the only people - the only ones before the king - who had never been disgusted by him. They’d known Beauto for their entire lives, so perhaps that canceled it out.

The king nodded, as if filing that information away.

Beauto felt the corner of his mouth begin to rise. “Don’t tell me you’re considering a relationship with me. We’ve known each other for an hour.”

“Hey, it’s just good to know! If you hated kids I’d know not to get attached.”

“You’re undead, can you even father children?”

“Hell if I know,” the king said. “But I’ve already more or less adopted one and I’m not ruling it out for the future.”

Across the table, the woman cleared her throat. “So… Are you considering staying then, Sir Beauto?”

Beauto flinched. “Squire. I’m a squire.”

A moment later, her words filtered in.

“Wait, what?”

“Come on, Psykos,” the king said. Beauto noted he was blushing, a little bit of life once again returning to his bloodless cheeks. “That’s a lot to ask.”

“I thought you liked him.”

“I- I do, but you can’t ask a guy to move in on the first date. Even if it’s just an invitation to join the kingdom, what if he thinks-”

“Yes,” Beauto said.

What did he have waiting for him back home? Six more years of humiliation, a king who expected three knights to overthrow an army of undead, a family who would rather forget he’d been born. His little siblings would only miss the solstice presents he brought them and his mother refused to talk about her first marriage at all. He only went to church anymore because knights were expected to be faithful, and he had to be better than perfect if he ever wanted that title. Why keep it up? Why keep fighting for respect he’d never get?

He would never have to see or speak to that damn Sir Kakato again.

“You want to stay?” the king said, sounding surprised, but happily so.

“I do,” Beauto said. “Though preferably not as a kept man. I think you’ll be disappointed by my skills anyway, I was bluffing earlier, I’m a virgin.”

“That was bluffing?” the king said, even more surprised this time. “Damn, you’ve got a natural talent then.”

“Okay I’m leaving,” the woman said, smoothly rising from her chair. “You boys have fun, I’ll have Isamu draw up the citizenship papers.”

“Yeah yeah.” The king waved her off, not taking his eyes off Beauto’s face.

His bare, helmet-less face.

Nervously, Beauto reached up and tried to straighten his hair. It was a futile effort, as always, not to mention the helmet making it worse. There would be weird creases and split ends and sometimes it got tousled so much it looked like a bird’s nest.

But despite looking like that, neither the king nor his advisor had shown any disgust. Beauto thought Psykos had, at first, but the rest of the conversation she was looking at him dead-on with nary a blink. Did they… really not care?

“Wait,” Beauto said as the woman reached for the door handle. “The curse. Did- can you see how it works?”

“Yes,” the woman said. She tapped the frame of her glasses. “I’ve got these enchanted, otherwise I’d need a blood sample. Why?”

“People have been treating me like…” Beauto trailed off. “Well, like you saw. It’s been like that all my life. I wanted to know, is it- is it the curse? Does it make me look inhuman? Does it cause people to be repulsed by me?”

He dared to look up as he waited for her answer, and he hated how much pity he saw in her eyes. “No. I’m sorry, Sir Beauto, the curse is purely physical. It seems like you’ve just spent your life surrounded by assholes.”

Beauto pressed his lips together, and nodded. “That’s what I thought. Thank you.”

It was what he’d thought, but not what he’d hoped.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Psykos said. “Goodnight.”

It was late afternoon, judging by the light coming through the windows, but the king’s advisor expected they would be occupied for the rest of the day.

Beauto swallowed.

The door shut, the king looked at Beauto expectantly, and Beauto found himself saying what he was thinking for the first time in years.

“I hate people.”

“Oh.”

“Everyone I’ve ever met.”

“Okay.”

“My life changed so much after I started wearing my helmet. I got it on my first mission outside the country, and everything was different. People didn't shy away from me, shop clerks actually greeted me...”

“They didn't before?” the king exclaimed.

“I don't know if... I'm frightening, maybe? I look like people think a thug should look. That, or... maybe they can tell I hate them. All of them.”

“You've got the right to,” the king said.

“I hoped it was the curse. I didn’t believe it, but I hoped. Now that I know for sure… I really hate them.”

“I’m sorry you went through that,” the king said. He’d still been holding Beauto’s hand this whole time, and now he squeezed it.

“Even my own grandfather. He was a preacher, and in his sermons he used to use me as an example of hardships his family faced. Say that god sent me to test them.”

“What the fuck,” the king said softly.

“I actually didn't mind that. I think I thought it gave me purpose.”

“Seriously, what the fuck?”

“I don’t feel that way anymore, don’t worry.”

“Good, because… Good.” The king shook his head and squeezed a little harder. “R Kingdom’s dinky, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s even smaller than here.”

“I hate to say it, but if everyone you've spent time with knew you your whole life, already thought of you as a target, maybe it was the location that was the problem?”

“Maybe,” Beauto said. “It’s a nice thought. But if I am going to stay here, I… I’d prefer to keep wearing my helmet.” He glanced at the king, who met his eyes without hesitation. “At least in public.”

“We can get you a new one. Hell, if you don’t mind armor that was died in, we can get you one for every day of the week.”

The old helmet had probably belonged to a dead knight too. “As long as it’s been boiled clean.”

“Then you’re staying?” the king asked, hope and warmth in his voice.

He kept asking that. Almost as if the king expected to be left behind at any moment.

A thought occurred, and Beauto nearly smiled. “I want to stay, and I want to spend the night with you if you’ll let me.”

“Hell yes.”

“But I’m still a little worried about my traveling party. If they think you’ve killed me, they might hold a grudge.”

“Okay,” the king said. “So you want to see them off?”

“Yes,” Beauto said. “I would very much like to see them off.”

Mid-morning, the three knights and one squire were dragged back to the throne room. The king waited on his throne, flanked on one side by his witch (now decked out in even-older-looking clothes, though the black dye had held strong), and on the other by a knight in full plate armor (with a black finish that had been hastily applied and still smelled faintly of chemicals).

Beauto thought to himself, standing on the dias, that looking through the visor slits of his new helmet at Sir Kakato cowering on the ground was very nearly as satisfying as last night had been. Whatever their treatment during their visit to the wine cellar, the knights now looked thoroughly dejected.

But not scared. Not yet. At least one of them was smart enough to know they’d be dead already if the undead king wanted to kill them, and would have explained it to the others. So they were beaten, but not broken.

“You come to my castle,” the king said, slowly. “You try to kill me. You spit on my floor. You steal my things.”

The knights didn’t say a word, though Atama looked at Sir Onaka as if expecting something. Kakato fixed his eyes on the floor and hunched in on himself, trying to look smaller. Like all bullies, he turned into a coward when faced with someone he genuinely could not beat.

“You are all very lucky. Luckier than you can imagine,” the king said. “Because despite your best efforts, I’m having a good day.” Beauto could hear the smile in his voice, and he was sure it was a wicked one. “So I’ll be letting you go on your way, with bodies and belongings intact.”

Relief washed across the whole party’s faces. But Atama glanced at Sir Onaka again, and then the other two, and finally spoke up.

“Um, sire, is it… May I ask what happened to our other companion? Squire Beauto?”

“Ah, yes.” The king smiled again. “He kept me very well entertained.”

Atama went pale. Beauto almost felt bad about it, but even the boy had looked down on him. Assumed the worst, like everyone else. Bragged about the fact he would surely reach a knighthood before “Dogface.”

But he was only fifteen, and Beauto remembered being fifteen. He couldn’t be too angry. The boy still had time to grow.

“Is he…” Atama swallowed. “Sire. What can I tell his family?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” The king glanced at Beauto. “Tell them his adventure stopped here.”

Under his helmet, Beauto chuckled.

The king sat up and clapped, and two undead soldiers brought the knights’ supplies into the throne room, dumping it all unceremoniously on the floor.

“Take what’s yours,” the king said, and the knights and Atama quickly scrambled to their feet.

They picked up their packs, loading bags onto already-encumbered shoulders. Atama must have helped all three back into their armor that morning. He’d tightened Kakato’s straps too much and the knight’s clothing was bunching around it. He would be uncomfortable all day.

Beauto smiled.

The king leaned over, and whispered, “Which one?”

“Blue,” Beauto said. His bag was the largest by far.

The king raised his voice. “I said, take what’s yours.” He snapped his fingers and pointed, and Beauto strode forward to snatch his bag from Atama’s arms as if following the order, and not that they’d discussed this beforehand.

Atama skittered away from him in fear. “I just- I thought-”

“It is ours!” Kakato exclaimed. Of course he found his tongue when trying to steal something. “If my squire is dead, his belongings belong to m- us!”

Beauto ignored him, keeping a tight grip on the straps with one hand, and letting the other rest on his sword hilt.

“And our maps are in there, and most of our cooking stuff!”

“Give them the maps,” the king said. “We want them to be able to find their way out.”

Beauto nodded, enjoying the way his new helmet fit so well he didn’t have to worry about it sliding. He pulled the maps from the side pocket and handed them over to Atama. Kakato couldn’t read one and the other two wouldn’t take orders from each other, not even if it was just directions.

He turned, planning to hand the bag off to one of the soldiers, when behind him he heard Kakato say -

“Dogface?”

Maybe it was the sword. Beauto hadn’t replaced it along with the armor, he still had his hand-and-a-half sword sheathed at his hip. Maybe it was body language, and Kakato actually had paid enough attention to his squire over the last year to learn the way he moved. Or maybe it was that the black knight hadn’t needed to ask where the maps were in such an overstuffed traveling pack.

Whatever it was that gave him away, Beauto was caught.

Fuck it.

He took his hand off his sword and backhanded Kakato across the face, hard enough to send him sprawling. One of the undead soldiers stepped forward and took Beauto’s bag, leaving him with both hands free to grab Kakato by his breastplate and haul him to his feet. There was a red mark on his cheek and a shallow scratch that wasn’t even bleeding, but Kakato was wide-eyed and panting with shock.

“If I ever hear that name out of your mouth again,” Beauto hissed, “I will see to it your jaw needs to be wired shut. Understand?”

Kakato gaped at him, mouth hanging open like a fool. After a second he seemed to realize the irony of this, and snapped it shut.

Beauto let go of him, making sure to shove him just enough that he stumbled into Onaka, who moved out of the way rather than steady his fellow knight.

“Go,” the king said, his voice raised to carry. “Leave my kingdom while I’m still in a good mood. If any of you have half the brains of your former squire, you’ll never return.”

The knights didn’t wait on propriety, moving as soon as the door was open and already beginning to nudge each other and whisper in the hallway outside. Beauto saw Atama glance back, stunned, his eyes fixed on Beauto’s black helmet.

Beauto said nothing. Whatever conclusions Atama decided to draw were his own business.

The doors shut, the king sighed and slumped in his throne, and then one of the soldiers looked at Beauto and asked if he was okay.

Beauto nodded.

“Did he call you that all the time? What an asshole.”

Beauto nodded again, and let out a sigh of his own. “It’s over now.”

“Yeah, that’s right, forget about them,” the soldier agreed firmly.

Beauto would have to learn his name. He seemed nice, and if Beauto was going to stay he would need to get along with others. And a man with a gaping hole where his nose ought to be had no room to judge Beauto for his looks.

Maybe that was why the king and Psykos hadn’t reacted much. Being surrounded by walking corpses surely gave you a much higher tolerance for unpleasant visages.

The click-clack of two pairs of heels heralded the people in question. Beauto and the soldiers snapped to attention in unison.

“I hate that,” the king said. “Psykos, I hate it when they do that.”

“I know you do,” she said, soothingly. “All right, I’ve got to go keep an eye on those assholes to make sure they leave the country and don’t set any fields on fire on the way out.” She glanced at Beauto. “Want me to have the crows shit on them?”

“No,” Beauto said. “Atama would be the one to have to clean it off.”

“Fair enough.” She waved as she flounced off, wavy hair flowing behind her.

How did she make it look like that? Was it magic or could Beauto actually do something about his rat’s nest?

The soldiers trooped off as well, returning to their usual duties. They still had their army training, but the way they spoke to Beauto and each other was far more relaxed than the soldiers Beauto knew from home.

His old home, that is.

Now alone in the throne room, Beauto followed the king back to his throne. He glanced around, making sure he hadn’t missed someone, and turned away from the doors before lifting his visor.

“Are you okay with this?” the king asked.

“It was my idea, my king.”

“Yeah but… you could have gone further.”

“Would you have let me?” Beauto asked, with a smile.

“If you thought they needed killing, I’d trust your judgment.”

“That’s a mistake. I think I’m less merciful than you are, sire.”

The king tilted his head and looked up at Beauto. His eyes were blood red, but already Beauto found the color more fascinating than disturbing.

“But you didn’t do it,” the king said. “You let them go, you didn’t even beat the shit out of that one guy.”

“I couldn’t do that,” Beauto said. “I’m a knight, and you’re my liege. My behavior reflects on you.”

The king smiled. He was so handsome that if Beauto hadn’t spent the entire previous night defiling him, it would have been hard not to hate him.

“Does it?” he said softly.

“Of course. This is my home now. Even if we tire of each other, it will still be my duty to protect this kingdom and its king. And that includes our reputation.”

The king crooked a finger, beckoning Beauto closer. “You can guard my reputation,” he said warmly, “as long as you keep calling me a slut in private.”

“You are a slut,” Beauto said. “It’s not slander if it’s the truth.” He put his hand on the arm of the throne and leaned over the king’s body, lowering his voice to a near whisper. “But only I’m allowed to say it.”

The king’s eyes lit up, and he tilted his head back, welcoming Beauto as he went in for a kiss.

A few days ago Beauto thought he would die a squire and a virgin, and now he could kiss a king whenever he liked. If this was a dream he hoped he never woke up.

The door slammed open and Beauto jumped back, pulling his visor down over his face. The young boy Beauto had seen in passing this morning ran across the room without waiting for permission, and stuffed a stack of papers into the bewildered king’s arms.

“Horses!” he said, as if that explained anything. “I gotta go, the sables got out!”

“How the- Isamu!”

The boy kept running, out the side door behind the drapes.

“Isamu!”

As that door too slammed shut behind their visitor, the king sunk down in his throne and groaned.

“Is it always like this?” Beauto asked, amused.

The king grumbled something incoherent.

“Do you want help?”

Wordlessly, the king held out the papers for Beauto to take.

It turned out to be a list of items they needed to get the stables resupplied. No part of the list actually mentioned horses, but Beauto had done most kinds of chores around a castle before and he knew what went where.

“I’ll take care of it,” Beauto said.

“Wait, really? Can you?”

“Sure, this is simple. Why did the boy give it to you instead of the stablemaster?”

“We don’t have one of those.”

“The castle seneschal then.”

“Isamu is the seneschal.”

Beauto was quiet for a moment as a lot of things he’d noticed began to make sense. Though the castle was large and they’d gone to effort to make it comfortable for all the inhabitants, and everyone respected the king and his authority, no one seemed particularly organized. Even the armory had been unlocked and unguarded when Beauto went to pick out his new armor.

“You need me,” Beauto said.

“I do,” the king agreed, no hint of innuendo in his voice for once. The situation may be even more dire than Beauto suspected. “Oh gods, I really do.”

Taking that as blanket permission to act on his behalf, Beauto set out. With his new armor and his old sword and a long night’s worth of aches and bruises that he wouldn’t have given up for the world. For now his job was just shopping and scrounging, but he was trusted now, truly trusted. Piece by piece Beauto would take the power that trust gave him and turn this kingdom into something to be proud of.

He hummed as he walked the halls, an old ballad about love and loss and the faithful getting their just rewards.

Beauto was a traitor, technically, but right now he felt very rewarded indeed.

[ask-the-bone-boys]

ATBB's Future

Hiiii y'all, its uh. been a minute huh

Now that it's been a bit over a year since I put this blog on hiatus, a loootta stuff has happened and changed and i've been doing a loootttta thinking!

Looking back on it, like really really looking, my biggest reason for the hiatus was that at some point the blog just kinda became more of a chore than something I wanted to work on for fun. Ask blogs are a lot of work, even when you're just using talking portraits rather than drawing out every individual answer, and with how much ask culture on tumblr has died out over the years there just wasn't really enough payoff to make it feel worthwhile to keep burning myself out.

I think it's a really good thing I stopped it when I did, because having to deal with all that in my senior year of high school would have been a nightmare. I've actually just finished up my first semester of college now, and there's no way in hell I would've been able to keep up at any rate! With all of this in mind, I've gained a newer perspective about how to approach things going forward.

I'm still really attached to this story. With how much time I've spent thinking about it and developing it in my head, I can't let it go, even if the blog isn't really working out anymore. I keep thinking of different ways I could fix the decisions I made early on, as well as the super cool directions I could take it in in the future, and I just. I GOTTA.

So, I've decided to reboot it entirely as a fic series!

This means that, unfortunately, there won't be nearly as much artwork to accompany it, but it's far more likely for the story to actually progress! Writing is way less draining for me and once I get going I can do it much quicker than art anyway, even though I do still sorta wish I had the spoons to just turn it into a full-blown webcomic instead haha

This DOES mean that updates won't be nearly as linear as they were here, seeing as right now I've mostly been working on backstory fics that took place before the blog's main story, but that can at least give you guys more context for how the characters interact with each other! I'll also state that while I do write faster than I draw, I still do it a hell of a lot less, so updates will still probably be pretty infrequent. But at least they'll happen at all, right?

As for the state of this blog itself, obviously I'm going to leave it up! I still love looking back on the old interactions you guys had with my characters and your reactions to certain plot points (your reactions to Fluff tagging along with the rest of the group were my favorite by far) and I think it would actually kill me to erase them. I'll be posting the fic updates here too, just like I did for Self Hatred!

And even if it's not going to be an ask blog anymore, because of how much I still miss that kind of interaction with you guys, I think I want to do a sort of "last hurrah" event, to finally send off the asking format with some good vibes.

You see, there's a character I made up around this time of year two years ago. He's a pretty cool guy, but he doesn't actually show up until a specific turning point later in the story. I've been excited for you guys to talk to him since the day I made him, but a little bummed lately that you may not ever get the chance. I still need to get a lot of stuff prepared, so I'm not quite ready to announce or start anything just yet, but there's a reason I waited until my winter break to start thinking about this seriously.

I think you guys would really like to meet him.

But anyway, that's about all I wanted to say for now! This is a very long post already so it's time I start wrapping it up. As always, thank you all so much for sticking with me, even though I really haven't been consistent through the years. I hope this change doesn't come as too much of a disappointment, and that you'll keep sticking around for the reboot!

[ivy-diaries]

‎ ⁎ ‎ ‎ 𓍼 ‎ ‎ ๋ ‎ ◜ &.&. THE IVY INCIDENT ep 1. ◞ ‎ ... ‎ ‎

The intro plays, and Ivy appears on the screen smiling and leaning into the mic to speak. “Hello guys, welcome to my new podcast, 'The Ivy Incident!!’ This has been in the works ever since I stepped into the dive podcast studio when I came here to film the kpop daebak show with Eric so it's soo exciting to finally show you guys this project!” she laughs as the other staff there are heard clapping.

Laughing, she continues "so in this podcast, I invite my friends from the industry and we just you know, talk and share stories! It's a lot similar to Eric's but mine is more personal if you will because all these people are very very close to me and I've known them for a pretty long time! This episode is just gonna be me cuz this is like an introduction for all the first-time listeners who don't know who I am!" “So I heard Diane has some questions prepared for me, so let's get into it!” 

“let's start with the basics, yeah? Who is Ivy Jennifer James?” Diane asks her. 

“Oh we’re going back to the beginning okay! So as you’ve already mentioned, my name is ivy jennifer james. I was born in New Castle, Australia where I lived till I was five and then I moved to the US where again I lived for five years before moving to Korea when I was eleven. And in korea, i signed with bighit entertainment and when i was asked if i was ready to debut when i was 14 i think? I was like imma do it. So i debuted at 14 under both jype and bighit and the rest is history! And i'm here today hehe”

“What motivated you to pursue a career as a solo artist?”

“Hmm i think ever since i got into bighit, i've always wanted to be a soloist? I'm not really sure why but I always saw myself as a soloist for some reason. Even till now, if you ask my dad he’d say that i was born to do this” ivy laughs and continues “i think ever since i was little ive wanted to something in the field of music and performance”

“Was being a kpop idol your first choice?”

“It was actually! I mean keeping in mind that i started this since i was a literal child, it actually was my first choice. The kids at school did tease me for this but look at me now” ivy chuckles

“Who are your music inspirations?”

“That's a great question and I was literally talking to Jun about this this morning! I dont have one specific inspiration but i think i draw inspiration from any and all artists! I've been pretty inspired by the Beatles and Rolling Stone pretty recently and obviously, Taylor Swift is one of my biggest inspirations out there.” 

“Are you a sweet or savory type of person?”

“It honestly depends on my mood if i'm being honest” she laughs hard “now, im craving something savory! I'd kill for some fries right now oh man you’ve perked up my cravings now diane!!”

“What's the last song you listened to?”

Ivy laughs hard and almost tears up laughing “this is actually so funny oh my god the last song i listened to is actually a helium ingested cover of let me love you by justin bieber which yeonjun sung for me yesterday after a party we went to and let me tell you, it was soo funny!!”

“According to you, tell me 3 flaws and 3 qualities about yourself”

“Ooh, three qualities of mine would be, one, I think I'm kind I guess? Second, I'm somewhat responsible, and third and finally, I think I'm a human sized golden retriever because I'm very bubbly and very smiley smiley most of the time! And three flaws of mine are, one, i’m a big overthinker, i just rethink about every single choice or word of mine a little too much. Second, my moods are based on the weather…”

Ivy laughs at the look on Diane's face “yea.. My mood everyday kinda depends on how good the weather is.. That's why I'm not as fond of the rain because it makes me kind of depressed and I just shut myself off most of the time. Third, im a bit of a perfectionist so i expect any and all things to be a little too perfect.. If its not what i expect it to be, i just leave that and will not ever touch on it again and i know i should change these things and i am trying so.. yeah “

“okay, something similar but three things you like and three things you dislike”

 “I don't like these types of questions!!” she laughs “it makes me think too much to give an answer!! But anyways… hmm three things i like are, one, my husband” she giggles as a small blush is seen on her cheek “well it's true!! I wouldn't have married him if I didn't like him would I?” she giggles “second, i really love what i do so, my career and third, my loved ones! I love my friends and family because they've stuck with me through thick and thin and I'm really grateful for that!” she smiles and gives the camera a little hand heart

“three things i hate are.. Hmm lets see… one, people who do not value privacy. I've said this multiple times and i'll say this again but I do love my fans.. I love them a lot and I wouldn't be here without them. But there are some people who claim that they are fans but do unhinged stuff to get close to me. And like that's why I've sued some people for not valuing my privacy. I got hate for it but honestly I don't care when the privacy and the lives of the people i love are at stake."

"Second, coming back to a slightly normal side, I absolutely hate the smell of fish. I don't know if it's cuz im vegetarian but I always throw up whenever I smell it and third, coming back to a more serious side, I hate the fact that most people on the internet feel like it's their right to comment on us as celebrities or idols or as performers. It's so irritating that they don't even feel sorry for what they say. They don't know how much we over think it and it slowly becomes an insecurity that takes years to wear off.”

“Okay this is your second to last question and the question is, For listeners who may not have heard your music before, can you recommend a few songs that best represent your sound and artistic vision?”

“That is a really good question, oh my god! So I think my discography is quite diverse and I have a lot of songs for different kinds of people who like different things. So the top three songs that i’d recommend to people are, one, vengeance as its called. There's no explanation for that song but I loved making it and loved singing it so that's the first song and second, I have a song called lovers in the night  that i co wrote with seori which I absolutely loved and we had a great time writing the song. And third I think is, my whole album called “for us.”  which i wrote with yeonjun and its songs dedicated for each other and hence called for us!”

“Okay… last question, can you give us any hints of the upcoming guests you have here?” Diane asks, smiling knowingly. Ivy giggles and wiggles her fingers across the camera

“Well I guess I can.. But most of my friends have not given me exact dates of their free schedule so even i’m not really sure on whos coming” she laughs at herself “so that's all i can tell you now because that's just all i know so” she just shrugs as she smiles.

“That's it for this episode and I hope you guys enjoyed this. I'm so excited for all the things we have in store for you guys and I hope you look forward to it!! So this has been ivy so far and thank you for listening to the ivy incident! Have a good day or good night bye!!”

⋆ ivy taglist ˒ @stealanity @alixnsuperstxr @riikiblr @skz-libby @escapetheash (lmk if u wanna be added or removed)

⋆ priya says ˒ so this is not proofread so read at ur own risk lol <33 but if you've come this far,, please reblog with the bow emoji (🎀) so I know that readers are interactive and writers get the credit they deserve!! so lmk who you want to see on ivys podcast and any feedback tbh!! Happy reading!!