#done all that much. i nearly burnt myself out before i even started drawing ME (THE POINT OF THE ASSIGNMENT)

[britneyshakespeare]

drawing just eats up my fucking time man

[sidekey-the-cynical]

I haven't been drawing much

I'd hope I would've done more than what I've done in the last few weeks, months, heck YEARS. I'm an artist by heart, but when it mattered most I choked. I was an animation and illustration student. Until I failed a mid program review;

Now I'm just second rate; BFA > BA

Well Alright Fine, people tell me not to be so pessimistic, especially while I disparage my art, but things just haven't felt same since then. It's been nearly 1 year and half by now. Can't Let go.

What do you even do as a "Design Studies" major focused in Animation and Illustration anyways— Half ass animation and half ass design at the same time?

I'd been meaning to post consistently on here and there; somewhere you know. Just to have something out there.

I might as well post some art if I'm gunna type for a while. I usually just sulk about art whenever I talk about art nowadays. I like art, I'm sure all artists who hate art do. We're burnt out? We're lazy? We're just jealous of other people's art?

I don't wanna blame adhd when I'm not even diagnosed, so {"everything I think makes me a terrible person"} it is—

I wish I could've kept up with myself during college, things could be so much better off if I had just tried harder and believed that I could do it. Just one step at a time. But I couldn't do it, the way it is simply is that my art is mid. OK FINE. I just can't make good art fast enough to compete.

My art being bad isn't why I am met with failure. My undiagnosed and unmedicated adhd isn't it either. I know exactly what my failure point is the more I look back..

I am insecure.

That is what's been stopping my hand. That's why it physically hurts to draw now. It's all in my head, that is why I am so stiff on the line art and so tense at the brush. Grant it, might be a product of the shame from adhd and previous failures. Might be the pressure to do well and compete with my peers. Might just be because I'm lazy, or maybe at my core I don't wanna do art as a job?

Doesn't that just sound so pathetic? "If you really were passionate, you wouldn't give up so easily would you?" Not that anyone has said that to me, directly.

Honestly I just thought it was cool to ignore all the quarantine mental health tips during covid times.

Yeah I probably should've exercised more and kept busy then, but I really just slept and watched anime all day and almost failed high school. I was simply too cool to be taking care of myself, so now I suck at being a good student cause honestly, I'm a bit too cool to start taking care of myself aren't I?

No one's perfect, might as well cut my losses and stop being so "cool". I got some work to do before I end up being more of a perma-burnt out failed artist.

God I hate that I know in like 5 years I'm gunna read this and hate my trying too hard to be self aware self. I can't believe it was worse when I was younger. And I'm probably not even that self aware anyways.

I wonder if I'm still good at art. All these example I posted are from about 2 years about when I was still in my old major. I couldn't do this daily for my sketchbooks cause I couldn't even do my sketchbook daily. Bad time management and all. Paralyzed by fear of failure, I couldn't finish work sometimes. It's embarrassing, I wanted to go into art, why couldn't I want it as strongly now that I have to do it for college?

I wonder if after so long now I'm a bit worse. Of course I doodle here and there, but I think I have to have gotten worse now that I'm out of practice. My new major uses all the fundamentals of my old majors, so now all I have left is history classes and not much practicing drawing or animating.

So that's why...

I'd hope I would've done more than what I've done in the last few weeks.

I had all the time, but I'm burnt out since for years now. I'm gunna try to fix this, trust me— Someone trust me, I can fix this right?

[tobesolonely]

apartment 41

hi y’all! this is my very VERY late submission for @meetmeinfleetwood​ ‘s “To Lovers” challenge (thank u miss sadie for even still accepting this LOL) but here is some good ol fashioned strangers to lovers with the line, “will you stay the night?” . :D enjoy everyone!

warnings: mentions of alcohol, intoxication, smut :)

word count: ~5.2k

my ko-fi! thank you :)

There were many things you loved about living on your own. You loved that your apartment was always clean. You loved that at the end of a long day, you could come back and brood in peace. You loved walking around in nothing but your underwear without the fear of anyone seeing you. You did things when you wanted, how you wanted. As a self-proclaimed introvert, there was nothing you loved more than living by yourself.

However, during slightly inconvenient moments like these, you wished you had someone else in the apartment with you.

You swore you’d been trying to get your favorite jar of pasta sauce open for at least the past ten minutes. It had been a long day at work, and at the moment all you wanted to do was heat the entire jar of sauce, boil a bunch of pasta, and call it a night. You were growing beyond frustrated–– you even contemplated just breaking the jar open. Ultimately, you decided against it lest you be met with a mouthful of glass.

Feeling defeated, you pick up your phone in frustration and hurriedly punch in your father’s number. The phone rings twice before he answers. “Hello? What’s up, hun?”

“Dad, what should I do if I can’t get this jar open? Like, it’s seriously glued shut,” you set it down on the counter probably a little too hard considering it was a glass jar. “I’m so hungry.”

“Did you try running it under hot water?”

You did.

“Hm. Try getting a good grip on it with a dish towel or something?”

Of course, you did.

“Well, I’m not driving over there just to open a jar for you,” your dad pauses. “You have neighbors, don’t you? Why don’t you knock on one of their doors?”

“Isn’t that weird?”

“No weirder than asking to borrow a cup of sugar.”

You thank your dad for the suggestion and hang up with him shortly after. He was right. You just needed someone to quickly open the jar for you and then you’d be back in your apartment, secluded from society until the next morning when you went into work. Besides, you’d been in your apartment for roughly three months now and you didn’t have a relationship with any of your neighbors. You figured now was as good a time as any to at least meet the person who lived directly across from you.

You slide on your slippers and clear the few steps it takes to reach your neighbor’s door. A faded ‘41’ was on their door, and a cheeky mat that read, ‘Did you call first?’ was at your feet.

You tried racking your brain for any memory of what your neighbor may look like, but you were drawing a blank. You were more to yourself than you initially thought you were and made a silent vow to become more social from this point on. You situate the jar of pasta sauce under your arm before placing two firm knocks against the door. Moments later, the door is flung open and you’re met with the smell of something delicious cooking, and a handsome, tall man donning a dirty apron.

“Hi, is everything alright?” he has a concerned look on his face as he looks over the top of your head and into your apartment.

“I— This is a little embarrassing,” you mumble, feeling your body grow warm. “I live by myself and I’ve been trying to get this jar of pasta sauce open for at least twenty minutes and I can’t. Do you think you can?”

His mouth slowly turns upwards into a smile before finally nodding, reaching out his hand to grab the jar of pasta sauce from you. “It’s pasta night at your place too, hmm?” His tongue is poked out of the corner of his mouth as he focuses on the task at hand.

“Yeah,” you reply. “I’m just gonna heat up the entire jar of sauce, boil some spaghetti noodles, and call it a night.”

The pop! of the jar causes you to jump slightly. “That doesn’t sound like very good pasta.”

You retrieve the pasta sauce from him, quietly thanking him. “It gets the job done.”

Your neighbor hums in agreement. “‘M sure it does. If you ever wanna taste some really good pasta though, y’know where I’ll be.”

“I do,” you nod. “Well, thank you again. I’ll let you go back to making your pasta sauce that is just way better than mine.”

He lets out a loud laugh. “I appreciate it. It wasn’t any problem at all, I’m here most evenings if you ever need help opening anything else, uh…” He trails off.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N. Beautiful name. I’m Harry, by the way.”

You look down at the dirty hallway carpet, a wide smile on your face. “Thank you, Harry. It was nice to finally meet you, by the way.”

“You too. Have a good night.”

You give him one more smile before turning on your heels and walking back inside your apartment, gently shutting the door. You quickly look out the peephole and catch him just as he’s closing his door, a dimpled-grin on his face.

It was Friday night when you finally got the chance to speak with him again. You were sitting on your kitchen stool nursing a glass of wine and waiting for your frozen pizza to heat in the oven when you heard someone coming down the hallway. As you had been doing all week since your interaction with Harry, you set your glass of wine down and shuffle over to your peephole, eyes scanning the small amount of hallway that was visible.

Harry comes into view seconds later, four overflowing bags of groceries precariously balanced along the length of his arms.

“Fuck.” You hear him mutter to himself. He attempts to reach in his pocket for his keys but once he realizes he can’t do so without setting at least one bag of groceries down, he lets out a loud huff in what you assume to be annoyance. You scuttle to your shoe rack and slip your shoes on before quickly flinging your door open.

“Hi! Need help?”

Harry jumps and you both watch as the contents of the bag he was getting ready to set down spill at his feet. “Now I do,” he’s already picking his groceries off the floor. “You scared the shit out of me. Also, were you watching me?”

Your face grows warm. “I heard someone coming down the hallway so I wanted to see who it was.”

“Oh, really?” Harry questions, pausing to look up at you. “You came out of your place so quickly, felt like I was bein’ watched or something.”

You know he’s teasing you but you can’t help but feel a little embarrassed that he caught onto what you were doing so quickly. Instead of dignifying his statement with an answer, you bend down and begin helping him pick up his spilled groceries. His hand grazes yours lightly as you both reach for a can of black beans, now slightly dented. It lingers for a moment before he retracts it to retrieve a different item. A quick, side-eyed glance reveals that his cheeks are tinged red.

“What are you making for dinner?” You ask him, standing up and dusting off the knees of your leggings.

“Uh, veggie chili. S’one of my favorites–– hey, is something burning?”

Your eyes widen and you abruptly turn away from Harry without so much as a goodbye, hurrying toward your kitchen that was starting to grow foggy from smoke produced by your oven. You were so preoccupied with helping Harry gather up his spilled groceries that you had totally forgotten you had a frozen pizza in the oven and if the smell was any indication of its current state, it was most likely inedible at this point.

Reaching for the oven mitt you kept next to the knives on the counter, you open the oven and fan the smoke out of your face, holding back a gag from the burnt smell. Your fire alarm immediately goes off once you open the oven and Harry appears a second later, a concerned look on his face. He looks around for your smoke detector and once he sees it he stands on his tiptoes to turn it off. You set your now blackened pizza on top of the oven and turn on the microwave fan. Harry’s already opening windows around your apartment, fanning the air with a throw pillow from your couch.

“Thanks,” you mumble, a wave of embarrassment washing over your body. You feared that Harry probably thought you were the most incompetent person on this planet–– first, you couldn’t get a jar open, and now here you are nearly setting your apartment on fire. “Guess I should’ve set a timer, huh?”

“Yeah, ‘spose you should’ve,” he replies. “It’s okay, though. ‘M about to get started on dinner, you can join me? If you’d like, that is. Maybe you’ll have a new recipe so you can stop eatin’ all this frozen shit.”

“Leave my frozen foods out of this,” you playfully scold him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Thank you for the invite though, that would be great, actually. I’m gonna get this cleaned up and then I’ll be right over?”

“Sounds good,” he neatly situates your pillow back on the couch. “I’ll see you in a bit, Y/N. Door will be unlocked.”

Once Harry’s gone, you move into action, quickly tossing the pizza into the trashcan before running to your bathroom. You try to remember if you brushed your teeth earlier that day but you can’t, so you brush them again just to be safe. You hastily examine yourself in the mirror before deciding you weren’t going to do anything more, not wanting to come off as trying too hard. You were almost one hundred percent certain Harry was just being neighborly–– nothing indicated that he found you attractive, so you didn’t want to make it too obvious that you found him to be the most stunning man you’ve ever seen in your life.

Locking your door, you clear the distance from your welcome mat to his in five steps flat, and take a deep breath before letting yourself in.

It didn’t take long for you to realize that Harry had more skill in the kitchen than an everyday home-chef did. He all but floated around the room, chopping with ease and finesse. The two of you had settled into a comfortable silence as he worked and you watched. Billy Joel played softly over his Bluetooth speaker, and he’d occasionally stop what he was doing to take a sip of his wine and look over his shoulder at you, almost as if he was checking if you were still there because you were being so quiet.

Your head was starting to grow fuzzy as you finished your third glass of wine that night, so you make the (responsible) decision to cut yourself off for the night. “Can I have a glass of water?”

“Course y’can,” he replies quietly, not stopping what he was doing. “Give me just a second and I’ll get ya––”

“Oh, I can get it myself. Just tell me where the cups are.”

Harry stops chopping and turns completely to face you, an amused look on his face. “You’re plastered, aren’t ya?”

“No? Why do you think that?”

Harry laughs. “You can’t hear yourself stumblin’ over your words, but I can. Jus’ stay right there and I’ll get your water. You want ice?”

“How do you know how to cook so well?”

“Culinary school,” he responds coolly. “Ice?”

You’re not sure if you are as drunk as Harry says you are, but you were currently finding the fact that Harry went to culinary school the coolest thing ever. “A chef? No way! What kind of chef?”

“I’m a Sous Chef. Gonna give ya a bit of ice.”

“I can’t believe I live across from a chef! No wonder you were giving me shit for eating canned pasta sauce,” you take the glass of water from Harry’s outstretched hand, thanking him. “Even your water tastes better than mine!”

“I think you’re just pissed, Y/N,” Harry responds, eyes crinkled from smiling. “Do y’like cooked carrots?” Your nose wrinkles in response to Harry’s question and he mutters something about how he’ll leave them out before turning back towards the stove to check on his food.

“How old are you, Harry?”

“Just turned twenty-seven. Yourself?”

“I’m twenty-four!” You exclaim, a little too excited. “Where are you from?”

He turns to look at you, eyebrow raised. “England. What gave it away?”

“Your accent.”

He hums, a small smirk on his lips. “Where are you from?”

“I’m from here. Just moved back home from my college town but didn’t wanna move back in with my parents, so here I am.”

“No roommates, you said?”

“Nope,” you pop the ‘p’, taking a big gulp of water. “You don’t either, do you? I just realized I haven’t heard or seen anyone else since I’ve been here.”

“I do not. I had a roommate when I first moved in but he ended up gettin’ engaged and moving in with his fiancée, so it’s just me for now. I think I like livin’ on my own better, though.” You watch as Harry reaches into his cabinet and retrieves two bowls and starts spooning your dinner into them. He sets the bowl in front of you and hands you a spoon, nodding at you to try it.

You bring a spoonful up to your mouth, blowing a few times before shoving it into your mouth. Your eyes widen at the amazing flavor that fills your mouth, and your eyes diverge to his. “This is incredible!”

Harry looks down at his bowl of food, a shy grin on his face. “Thanks, Y/N. Glad you like it.” He grabs his glass of wine from behind him and moves around to the other side of the island to sit next to you.

“Are you a vegetarian?” You ask, mouth full.

“Somewhat. I’m a pescatarian,” he shovels a spoonful of the chili into his mouth. “More wine?”

“I better not,” you reply, mind still fuzzy from all you’ve drunk throughout the night. “This is seriously so good, Harry. You’re cute, you can cook, you’re nice… you’re like, a triple threat!”

“Callin’ me cute?”

“C’mon, you know you are,” you answer boldly. “I’m just stating the obvious.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” he takes a sip of wine. “You’re a pretty big looker yourself.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“You flirted with me first.”

“So what if I did?”

Harry lets out a quiet scoff, going back to eating his food. After a moment he says, “I wouldn’t mind.” You smile to yourself and continue eating, bringing the bowl up to your lips and tipping your head back so you could get every last drop of Harry’s veggie chili. He gets up to get another helping of food as you get up to place your bowl in the sink, lifting your sleeves to wash it.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says as he brushes past you, going back to where he was previously seated. “I’ll clean up later. Do y’want some dessert?”

“I think I will take some more wine,” you grab the bottle from the center of the island along with your glass, pouring a generous amount. “This is good. Nothing like the cheap bottles I get from Target.”

“I’m glad you like it. Thought I’d pull this one out tonight, always pairs well with dishes like this…” He trails off. “Anyway, yeah. Glad y’like it.”

You and Harry finish off the bottle of wine no more than thirty minutes later, having by now situated yourselves on his couch. He turned something onto the television (you think it was Iron Chef), but neither one of you were paying any attention to it. Harry was asking about what you studied in college, how you like your current career and your favorite things to do in your free time. You were asking him about England, his family back home, and why he chose to go to culinary school.

He has a way about him that captivates you— just completely pulls you in— and you never want to stop listening to him speak. Harry leans close to you when you talk, almost as if you’re telling him a secret that he doesn’t want to miss out on.

“I think ‘m jus’ as drunk as you are now,” Harry whispers, letting out an adorable giggle. “Goin’ into work tomorrow is gonna be a proper pain.”

“No one told you to try and outdrink me!” You yell, tucking your knees under your bottom. “Now we’re both drunk, what good does that do?”

“Think it’s more fun this way, don’t you?” Harry lets out a little burp, his face flushing. “Wanna help me clean the kitchen?”

“What happened to cleaning it later?” You stand up from the couch, wobbling slightly before catching your balance.

“Well, I didn’t think we’d get drunk off our arses and sit here talkin’ til one in the mornin’, did you?” He stands up as well, his hand moving to rest on the small of your back as he scooches past you.

“There’s no way it’s that late,” you retort, checking the time on your phone. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to overextend my stay. I’ll help you clean this place up and then get going.”

Harry swats a hand in front of his face, shaking his head. “Overextend your stay? Of course y’didn’t, more than happy to have you here. Do you wanna wash or dry?”

“I’ll wash since I don’t know where anything goes.” You move to the sink and roll up your sleeves, moving the small number of dishes in the sink all to one side so you can fill the other side with water. Silence falls over you again as you clean the dishes from dinner and soon enough you’re done, drying your hands on your t-shirt.

“Thank you, Y/N. We make a good team, huh? Got that done quickly, didn’t we?” He folds the dishtowel in half neatly and hangs it over the handle of his oven.

“Yeah,” you yawn, slipping on your shoes that had been discarded earlier in the night by the door. “I’ll get out your hair and let you get to bed, then. Thank you for having me over and for cooking that delicious dinner, I enjoyed it. I owe you.”

“If it’s frozen food, don’t worry about it,” he jokes, moving to open the door for you. “If you want to cook me something, though…”

“How about I take you out for dinner? I stay out of the kitchen, and you’ll get something edible and halfway decent. A win-win?”

Harry laughs. “‘M lookin’ forward to it. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“I couldn’t decide between Italian or sushi but since you’re a pescetarian, I figured sushi was our best bet.”

Harry looks away from the menu and at you, clearing his throat before speaking. “That was really thoughtful. Surprised you remembered considering how loaded you were.”

“For the last time, I was not that drunk,” you defend yourself, gently kicking his calf from underneath the table. “By the end of the night, you had way more than me!”

“Maybe so,” he replies nonchalantly, looking back at the menu. “Let’s not forget who can handle their alcohol better, though.”

You let out an indignant hmph, and get to scouring the menu yourself. You didn’t eat sushi very often so you figured you’d probably just get whatever Harry got.

“Let’s do sake bombs.”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Sake bombs? Are you tryin’ to get me drunk again?”

“They’re fun! Just one?”

Harry shakes his head at you and grins before waving over the waitress, asking her politely for two sake bombs. She comes back a few minutes later with the alcohol and chopsticks balanced precariously on a tray, setting them in front of you and Harry respectively.

The waitress stands back and says, “Ichi… ni… san… sake bomb!” The two of you pound the table until your shot glasses fall into the cup and then you throw your heads back, chugging down the cocktail. When you finally finish chugging your drink and look back up at Harry, he’s staring at his watch as if he’s been waiting for you to finish for ages.

“Oh, you’re finally done? I was startin’ to grow old,” he teases, taking a sip of his water. “Do you know what you wanna order?”

“You’re annoying,” you reply, narrowing your eyes at him. “But I’m gonna get whatever you get.”

“Really? You don’t have any preferences?”

You shake your head. “I don’t eat sushi very often so I honestly don’t know what I should get. I’ll try anything, though.”

“You really did pick this place just for me, didn’t you?” He has a teasing tone to his voice, but his gaze has softened.

“I told you I owed you, didn’t I?”

At this, Harry just gives you a small smirk and signals the waitress over once again to order for the both of you. While you wait for your food to come, you fall into easy conversation with Harry again. It seems like you can talk about anything under the sun with him–– no topic was off-limits, and nothing was awkward. He had to have been one of the most interesting people you’ve ever met in your life. He was well-traveled, knew several languages, and loved to sing and write music in his spare time. Although you felt your own life was rather boring in comparison to his, he made you feel just as accomplished and interesting as he was.

“That was good,” he tells you after you’ve both finished eating, wiping his mouth with his napkin and slouching in his chair slightly. “Think ‘m gonna need to unbutton my pants here in a second.”

“Me too,” you answer with a laugh, making eye contact with the waitress. You mouth, ‘check, please’ and she nods, reappearing at your table with the check. As you’re digging in your purse to pull out your wallet, Harry reaches over and grabs the check before you can even look at it. He reaches in his pants pocket for his wallet and slides his card in before you’ve even looked back up.

“What are you doing?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Did you forget that I’m the one that owes you?” He shrugs.

“You can make it up to me another way. Don’t worry about it,” his voice is low and gravelly. The waitress comes back to collect the check from Harry and after he receives his receipt, he reaches into his wallet to place a cash tip for her on the table. “Ready to get home?”

Home. You know he only worded it that way because you live directly across from him, but you would like going “home home” with Harry, at least for tonight. There was no denying the sexual tension between the two of you was electric–– anyone who was paying attention to the two of you could probably sense it. You wordlessly nod and follow Harry out of the restaurant, intertwining your fingers with his when he holds his hand back for you to grab.

He stands on the curb and expertly hauls a cab, opening the door and gesturing your in ahead of him. Harry’s hand moves to rest on your leg as he makes small-talk with the taxi driver, asking him if he was having a busy night and how much longer he thought he’d be out for. Harry pays the cab fare and wishes the driver a good rest of his night before all but dragging you out of the taxi.

“What’s got you in such a rush?” You ask Harry, a teasing

“Oh? Did I misread the situation? I thought–– this is embarrassing, never mind…” his tight grip loosens on your hand but you pull him back into you, laughing at how adorable he was.

“Harry! I’m joking, I know what’s going on,” you rub your thumb across the top of his. “I was just messing with you.” You see him visibly let out a sigh of relief.

“Don’t mess with me like that, Y/N!” You’re still standing outside of your apartment complex in the dark, as close to one another as you can be without completely melting into each other. He releases his hand from your tight grip and places it gently on your face instead. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

“Please,” you reply breathlessly, standing on your toes. Harry cranes his neck to meet your lips and presses them to yours softly, pulling back only when the both of you are near gasping for air.

“Was that nice?” He asks, thumb caressing your face. Your noses are pressed together and you just nod, still too breathless to speak. “Maybe we can take this inside, then?”

Once inside Harry’s apartment, he nearly rips off the new shirt you bought specifically for your date with him, discarding it by his door.

“Careful with that,” you mutter, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I just got that today. Tag is still onnit.”

You feel Harry laugh into the side of your neck, walking your backward towards his couch. “I’ll cover the cost if it’s ruined then, how’s tha’?”

Harry sucks harshly on your neck, causing you to let out a low moan. “I guess that’s fine.”

“That’s fine?” Harry mocks you, guiding you onto the coach. You hum in agreement as you sink further down into the couch, letting out a sigh of bliss as he peppered kisses along your breast.

Your movements are needy— desperate. Neither one of you were trying to hide how badly you wanted to fuck the other. Harry smashing his lips onto yours once more, his breath warm and tongue salty from all the sushi he had earlier consumed. He attempts to pull his own shirt from his body while not breaking the kiss, and you let out a satisfied hum when he succeeds. Now you’re both shirtless and the only thing stopping you from fucking each other proper is being still fully clothed on your bottom halves.

“Can we get these off?” You ask, tugging at your own bottoms. Harry helps you pull down your tight jeans, struggling slightly to get them off your sweaty legs. Once your jeans are off your underwear follows immediately after, carelessly strewn around the room like the rest of your clothing.

“Y/N…” Harry hungrily takes the sight of your body in, eyes darkening with lust. “You might be the death of me, did ya know that?”

“I do now.”

He sucks on his index and middle fingers and lowers them down to your core, slipping them inside you with ease. You hadn’t realized how wet you were until Harry was knuckles deep, curling his fingers tantalizingly slow inside of you. “Do ya?”

You bite down hard on your lip, nodding at Harry’s rhetorical question. “Obviously.”

He flips the two of you over, so that you’re now straddling him and he’s laying below you. “Take what you want, then–– oh wait, condom?” You nod and move as Harry digs around in his pants, pulling out his wallet.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys that keeps a condom in their wallet.”

He rips it open with his teeth in one swift motion and unbuckles his pants, giving himself a couple of quick strokes before sliding it on. “What if I am? Was quick and effective, wasn’t it?” He rests his hands on your hips and pulls you back on top of him, connecting his lips with yours again. “Now you can take what you want.”

Your hands move up to grip Harry’s shoulders as you slowly sink onto him, wincing at the stretch and burn an unfamiliar partner sometimes brings. You make eye contact with Harry as you take a moment to adjust to his size, noting how his grip on your hips gets even tighter.

“S’big,” you mutter, rolling your hips slightly. Below you, Harry squeezes his eyes shut. “So big.”

“Tell me how badly you want it.”

“You already know. Don’t feel like being teased.”

Harry juts his hips up to meet you slamming down onto him, groaning out loudly from the pleasure the added motion brings. At one point he situates himself so he’s sitting straight up, using his left hand as a support for him to rest back on while his right hand is tweaking at your nipples. He’s letting out a slew of curse words, letting you know it felt just as good for him as it did for you.

“Ridin’ m’cock so good,” he says under his breath, bringing the hand that was playing with your nipples to rest in between your legs. Whenever you slam back onto him you feel him not only deep in the pit of your stomach but also on your clit, bringing you maximum pleasure. “Don’t be so quiet, let me know when ‘m makin’ you feel good, love.”

“I’m already close,” you admit, feeling a bit embarrassed at how it took Harry doing next to nothing to work an orgasm out of you. Well, not literally–– but it felt like it. “Feel s’good inside me, you’re so big.”

Harry lets out a low moan from your words, throwing his head back in pleasure. It hits the arm of his couch with a quiet thump but his pace doesn’t falter in the slightest. “You’re gonna make me cum if ya keep strokin’ my ego like that.”

“You asked for it,” you reply, changing your move from riding to grinding as you were starting to grow fatigued. “I’m close.” You remove your hands from his shoulders and let them roam the expanse of your body, wanting nothing more than to receive maximum pleasure.

“Can feel ya squeezin’ ‘round me,” Harry says, taking his lip in between his teeth. “Know you’re about to come, pet.”

"Harry..." you warn, your movements growing more desperate and sloppy. You weren't normally a selfish lover but your head was so clouded from pleasure, all you could think about at the moment was your release. Harry leans his head back on the couch again and now uses his two free hands to bring you to orgasm–– one is rubbing circles on your clit and the other one is gripping at your breasts as you use your last bit of strength to swivel your hips on him.

You're coming undone not ten seconds later, loudly moaning out the man's name who laid under you. You don't slow your movements, knowing he was right behind you.

"Y/N, fuck, 'm gonna come-" he lets out a low, guttural moan, coming immediately after announcing it.

The sounds of you trying to steady your breathing are the only sounds that fills the room as you both come down from your respective highs. Harry runs his hands along your bare body, eyes hooded from the orgasm that just wracked his body. As you’re beginning to uncurl yourself from Harry, he grabs your hand, pulling you back down.

“Will you stay the night?”

You didn’t know what sleeping with Harry meant for your relationship going forward, but you were glad you knocked on Apartment 41. 

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Let’s Get Away

Summary: It’s due time for Natasha to take a break.

Genre: Fluff

Request: Yes / No

Word Count: 3,899

“ty mne ne doveryayesh’?” - “do you trust me?”

* * * * * *

The other side of the bed is cold when you wake up, void of the body that had been keeping you warm at night.

Sleepy eyes scan the room and even though you know she’s gone again, you still feel disappointed to find her combat suit missing from the closet. 

Knowing that your worry for her isn’t going to allow you to go back to sleep, you toss the covers away from your body and trudge out of bed. After brushing your teeth, you grab the first aid kit and head to the common room.

Two and a half cups of tea and a partially burnt bagel later, you hear the tell tale sound of Natasha coming home. 

Not only does FRIDAY announce her arrival, Natasha herself lets out a pain induced groan.

Having known your fiancé for more than ten years, you can even hear the difference in her footsteps, the way her feet shuffle across the floor instead of her usually confident strut. She’s exhausted, bruised and beaten, but not in the least bit ready to admit to needing a break. 

It’s dead silent between the two of you. 

Natasha was really hoping you’d still be asleep, most nights she’d been able to slip back into bed without you noticing, until you saw the fresh scars and bruises in the morning. 

Tonight is different though, and she can tell. In the way you quietly rise from the couch and walk over to her, the way you sigh when taking her hand in yours and seeing her newly bruised knuckles, the way you aren’t able to look her in the eyes even after you’ve pulled her to sit down and start to tend to her wounds.

Every touch is soft, some could say overly delicate. You touch her as if one wrong brush of the alcohol soaked cotton will hurt her or break her completely. You know it won’t, she’s the Black Widow for Christ sake, she’s had far worse injuries than these and her pain tolerance is high, that doesn’t stop you from being gentle with her.

Even though the atmosphere is tense, Natasha can’t help but to remember that this is exactly how you were with her when you’d begun to develop feelings for her. 

Being a medic at S.H.I.E.L.D since before she was recruited meant you weren’t new to dealing with the injuries of the agents that came through. When she was brought to you the first time, with a gunshot wound to her thigh, you were the perfect picture of calm, cool, and collected. While you weren’t aggressive or rough with her, there was a noticeable difference in her first visit and how you would later treat her.

Despite her incredible skill, Natasha ended up taking a lot of trips to the med bay, all of which lead to you two getting closer. Which in turn lead to the development of your feelings for each other. Each one, she felt you becoming softer with her, she started to see the worry in your eyes when she would come in. There was something about the way you treated her as if she wasn’t invincible that drew her to you, she was always the badass Black Widow to majority of the people she knew, it was a breath of fresh air to have someone treat her like she’s just Natasha. 

Natasha sighs heavily,“ I’m sorry.” She mumbles, but you hear it in the quiet of the compound. 

For a moment she thinks you’re pissed at her, what with the lack of a quick reply. In reality you’re just focusing on pulling the tiny shard of glass out of her knuckle, cleaning, and wrapping it. 

Once you’re done, you set everything you’d used to the side, opting out of painkillers since it won’t do much to her enhanced dna anyway. 

“What exactly are you apologizing for?” You ask softly, finally looking up into her eyes. It surprises you to see the amount of guilt in her eyes that you do. A frown forms on your face. 

“I-” she swallows, breathing heavily,“ I don’t mean to worry you so much.” That guilt in her eyes mixes with a troubled expression and it breaks your heart. 

“Then why keep going out there?” You turn to face her completely, legs folding as you play with your fingers.“ If you keep it up the NYPD are gonna be out of jobs.” You try to tease, hoping a little joke will take that look off her face.

God you hate seeing anything other than a smile on her face.

Natasha shakes her head and the tears that spring into her eyes after her prolonged silence takes your breath away.“ I don’t know what I am outside of being an Avenger,” she confesses. When a tear escapes, you reach up and swipe it away, leaving your thumb there to caress her cheek.“ There’s always been a mission, a threat, a purpose.”

Listening to the way she says it, you know what she actually means to say. She had a purpose. The fact that the Avengers dismantling has left her feeling so lost wasn’t something you knew. It affected her hugely. Tony and Clint both stepping away to be with their families, Thor switching over to the Guardians, Bruce going back to do whatever he had been doing after Thanos’ snap, and Steve choosing to go back to be with Peggy only to return and pass the Captain America mantle to Sam.

If you were in Natasha’s position there’s no way you wouldn’t be affected by that. Everyone was moving on, everyone seemed to have their purpose outside of the Avengers, everyone left her behind. 

You take a deep breath, tilting your head to catch her eyes,“ not knowing what to do is hard,” you see her shoulders drop at your words, as if she’s relieved to hear that you understand.“ But it doesn’t mean you don’t know who you are.”

That makes her freeze, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Her head tilts to draw her gaze from the floor to your face.

“Nat, honey, you were an Avenger. And I know what that means to you. But being an Avenger was only part of who you are.” A gentle smile forms on your lips at just the thought of how extraordinary this woman is.“ You’re a loyal friend, an incredible aunt, a hero,” she chuckles softly at that,“ and you are the most amazing fiancé.”

Soft green eyes bore into yours, tears brimming her eyes again but for a different reason all together.“ I love you so much.” She says, turning to press a kiss to your palm. 

Pulling your hand away, you open your arms to her and she happily obliges to your invitation for a cuddle. A grunt of pain escapes her when she twists to lay between your legs, her body freezing up for a second, before she nearly slumps into you. 

Her back presses into your front, your arms circling her waist. You press a soft, lingering kiss to her temple and she laces her fingers with yours, taking in a deep calming breath. 

“The last few years have been hectic, and even before all of that, it seemed like we never slowed down,” you tighten your hold on her,“ but right now, we don’t have those kinds of threats looming over our heads.”

“You’re saying I should stop.” 

With a frown, you shake your head and lean over to look her in the eye,“ no, god no. I told you, a hero is part of who you are. What kind of fiancé would I be if I told you to stop doing what you were meant to do? Not a very good one right?” She answers with a nod and a chuckle.“ nor would I be a good fiancé if I let you keep going without telling you to take a break.”

As if her body picks up on that phrase alone, a long, loud, yawn leaves her lips. You can’t help but smile at how cute she looks, her nose all scrunched, eyes shut. The second the yawn ends she blinks back the tired tears and snuggles closer. 

She says something but it’s muffled by another yawn and by the time that one ends, her eyes are shut, and she’s fast asleep. 

* * * * * *

When Natasha wakes up in the morning, she’s in bed and she’s alone. 

The emptiness of the space beside her does something to her heart and she can’t help but wonder if you got this feeling whenever you woke up and she was gone. 

Some of that guilt from last night creeps back up and she groans, turning to bury her face into your pillow. While your scent usually calms her down, now it only serves in reminding her of just how dumb she feels. 

You’ve always been the most understanding and loving with her, more than anyone she’s known. Just like last night proved, you’ve always known that saving people even though it put her in danger was what she was meant to do. You knew how important it was for her to clean her ledger, you even understood when she went to Russia for months to shut down the Red Room and make amends with her family. 

The second she came back you didn’t have to ask if she’d done what she set out to do, you could just tell and it translated through the following days. You took even greater care of her just to ensure that she was truly okay both physically and emotionally.

After all of that, after all you’ve done for her, she’s still making you worry by throwing herself into danger she doesn’t have to be involved in. Somehow you even understand that.

This time she groans, squeezing the pillow as frustrated tears pool in her eyes. 

“That does not sound like someone who’s having a good morning.” Your teasing voice hits Natasha’s ears and through her frustration she can’t help but roll her eyes. Then moving to sit up, resting her back against the headboard.“ Wh-what’s wrong? Does something hurt?”

You rush to her side, hands and eyes instantly starting to roam her body for any signs of injury worse than what you found last night. 

“I-I’m fine, physically.” That just makes your frown deepen.“ I just realized I’m the worst fiancé in the world.”

Figuring this has to do with last night, you climb over her legs and sit beside her.“ As your fiancé I think I’m the one to determine whether that’s true or not.” She raises an eyebrow at you and you know to drop all the teasing.“ Okay okay. Why do you feel that you’re the worst?”

“Aren’t you tired of me?” She turns to look at you directly.“ I’ve always been in danger and you’ve understood and now I’ve been blatantly throwing myself head first into danger and yet you still understand?”

You cock your head to the side with love in your eyes.“ I’m far from tired of you Romanoff. Am I fond of the idea of you being beaten up and shot at, no. But I love you and I know you’re more than capable of handling yourself. And I’m going to worry about you because that comes with loving you. You could work with puppies, or babies, or I don’t know what a safe job is, either way, I’d still worry about you.”

A sigh falls from her lips,“ that makes me feel a little better.”

“I know how you can make it up to me.” Hopeful eyes look back at you.“ Get your cute little ass out of bed, get ready, and meet me out front.” You smack a kiss to her cheek before hopping out of bed, leaving Natasha to watch you nearly bounce away in excitement. 

Curiosity is the main driving force in Natasha’s actions. She does in fact get out of bed, taking a much needed hot shower afterwards and changing into a pair black stretch pants and one of your sweatshirts.

The last thing she’s expecting when she meets you outside is to find you leaning against a very new looking silver sports car. It being a convertible allows her to see the red leather interior. 

“Is that my sweater?” You ask, brows pinched together with a finger pointed at her chest. 

“We’re getting married medovyy, what's yours is mine.” A sweet smile hits her lips. You weren’t going to ask her to change anyway cause you love seeing her in your clothes, but had you been considering it, that smile would’ve done you in.

Humming, you shake your head,“ that aside. Let’s go.” You reach back to grab the handle and pull the door open for your fiancé. 

“Go where?” She takes a hesitant step forward.

You smirk, reaching up to cup her cheek and ghost your lips over hers,“ ty mne ne doveryayesh'?” You whisper.

Dammit she’s a sucker for you speaking Russian. Had she known when you started learning in your first years of dating that it would become a weakness, she would’ve stopped you. You already had a hold on her, that just made it tighter.

It’s why she nods, seemingly in a trance. Only easing into the seat after you’ve given her a proper kiss.

The door shuts after her and you round the car, jumping over the door and into the driver’s seat. You look over at her,“ I’ve always wanted to do that.” You say giddily, before clicking your seatbelt into place.

With a shake of her head, she puts her seatbelt on as well, and gets comfortable in her seat.

“The final destination is a surprise, but you can know that we’re going to that little diner you love so much in Greenwich.”

She can’t help but smile at you. She couldn’t get more lucky if she tried. 

“One last thing,” you reach across her lap to the glove compartment, pulling it open and retrieving two pairs of sunglasses. Setting them in your lap, you lean towards her and reach up, fingers deftly combing the braid from her hair, and then you slip the glasses onto her face. 

Winking at her, you slip your own pair on and start the car. It purrs to life and right before you pull away from the compound, you flick the radio on. 

The quiet that settles over the two of you is full of contentment. Music plays softly as Natasha holds your free hand in hers, fingers occasionally playing with the engagement ring on your finger. 

That feeling remains as you open the door for her and escort her into the diner. You let her slide into the booth first and she takes your hand and tugs you down into the seat beside her. 

An amused smile plays on your lips that makes the redhead give you a look, her eyebrow raised at you.“ What?” She asks.

“Nothing I just-” you chuckle shortly,“ I remember a time when you’d only let me sit across from you. I could hold your hand but sitting next to you, that was a no. Wasn’t until a year after we made things official that you let me sit next to you. I couldn’t help but wonder if that meant I was special.”

Her finger presses into the side of your jaw and she gently turns your head to face her,“ you are special. Especially to me.” And then she kisses you so sweetly you think it might give you a cavity. 

Your breakfast date passes with flirty remarks, quietly spoken affections, and soft kisses between bites of food and sips of tea and coffee. After which you settle the bill and head back out to the convertible. 

The next destination is unknown to Natasha but, unlike usual, she finds herself excited about the unknown. It’s an odd feeling but she welcomes it, letting herself feel free of worrying about what’s next. And you revel in seeing her like that. 

Sending an occasional glance in her direction just to watch her long red tresses flow with the wind, to smile softly at the way she shuts her eyes and let’s the breeze caress her skin, and to chuckle when her hand raises to create a wave against the wind. 

More than ten years you’ve known her, majority of which you’ve had the privilege of calling her yours. If there’s one thing being with her has taught you, through every obstacle you two faced together be it arguing about if tea was better than coffee to the many many life threatening missions she’s been on, it’s that moments like these were precious. 

There’s never any way of telling when the next world or universe threatening event will occur, if it’ll be the one to take Natasha away from you, so it became abundantly important that you get these chances to bask in being with her. 

Your thoughts lead you to subconsciously taking her hand in yours, raising it to press your lips against the back.

Natasha smiles. She swears your lips feel like rose petals. Nothing compares to your kisses. 

“I love you,” you say blissfully. 

Nothing except that.

“I love you too,” she squeezes your hand. 

The look of excitement that lights across your face makes her eyebrows raise. It’s not the same as the usual look you get when hearing her say those words, your expression is usually softer. Which is why she follows your line of sight when you look away from her.

Her eyes are met with the view of a beautiful lake house and she quickly snaps her gaze back to you. 

“You’ve given the NYPD a break these past couple of months, I think you’re in need of one.” A wink finishes your statement and she surges forward, hands on your face to pull you into a searing kiss. It expresses her love for you more than words ever could.

With the cutest most beautiful smile you’ve ever laid eyes on, she throws her door open and excitedly tells you to come on. And you’re more than happy to follow. 

Leaving the bags you secretly packed in the trunk, you accept Natasha’s outstretched hand, and allow her to guide you around the grounds. 

The view of the lake and everything beyond looks even better than the pictures let on. For a last minute trip to Jersey, this was considerably good.

Despite how tempting it is to stroll down the dock and hold Natasha in your arms like the clichés you read about, you save that for later, instead following the still curiously excited redhead towards the house. 

In one action you scoop your fiancé up into your arms after having unlocked the back door. Her arms wrap around your neck and she raises her eyebrows at you in question.

“Figured I could get some practice.” Your teasing tone is back, your words bringing a coy smile to her lips.

“Are you still excited?” She asks as you step into the house, careful to not bang her head on the door.“ I know we’ve pushed it off a few times.” 

You gingerly set her down.

Postponing the wedding was never due to a lack of wanting to be married. 

The first plan was thrown out the window when Lagos happened and the team fell apart. Neither of you were sure about getting married while on the run, your family no longer around. But you’d found yourselves in the city of love, completely taken by the atmosphere, and decided that there was no need to wait. Then Thanos came. Losing half of your family to his homicidal plan hit you both incredibly hard.

Three and a half years it took for you both to realize that maybe you couldn’t get everyone back, which also made you appreciate that through everything you’ve always had each other. While there was nothing you could do about the past, you had a say over your present and you wanted to spend as much of that as wives as you could. Only for Scott Lang to show up in the midst of planning with the idea of the Time Heist.

All of that happened, you got everyone back and were blessed with your family again. So when things settled you both got back to planning. A year and six months after the final battle against Thanos, where Thor “went for the head”, you were finally a mere two months away from making the woman that is the love of your life your wife. 

“Am I excited to become a Romanoff?” Your question trails off with a pondering gaze to the ceiling. Natasha’s eyebrows pinch together at your need to think about it and seeing her frown makes you laugh.“ After three failed attempts I think it’s safe to say I’m pretty damn excited.”

The redhead smacks your arm in annoyance at your constantly playful behavior and you wrap your arms around her waist, laughing once again.“ You’re incorrigible.”

“Oh absolutely,” you wink,“ but I think that’s one of the many things you love about me.”

Her eyes narrow and her lips press together in a thin line, a hum of uncertainty leaving her lips. That makes your jaw drop and this time Natasha laughs. When she raises a brow at you, you nod in understanding. 

A beat of silence passes before you both set off to do something, Natasha offering to make tea and you go to grab the luggage from the car. Taking both straight to the bedroom before going back to join Natasha. 

She raises the cup of tea to her lips, eyes focused on the view outside the window. You slip behind her and wrap your arms around her waist, resting your chin on her shoulder and looking out the window as well. 

You know something’s on her mind but you’d learned a long time ago to let her open up herself as opposed to prying.

“Do you think everyone will be able to make it?” She finally speaks up.

Biting your lip in thought, you take a deep breath,“ I think everyone is going to try their best to be here but things come up. Everyone has RSVP'd so they want to be there that’s for sure.” You’re taken aback when you turn and find those green eyes staring back at you.

The most intense emotions swirl in those angel eyes.

“I know I keep saying it but, I love you, so much.” Her free hand raises to rest on your cheek. 

“And I, you my love.”

Adjusting herself back into your hold completely, she returns her gaze to the lake.“ Thank you for this trip as well.”

“I figured if I brought you out here I could get lucky.” 

That statement seems to be the straw that breaks the camel's back. Natasha slips from your grasp and heads towards the back door.“ Wait no, I’m sorry. I meant to say that I did it cause I love you and I wanted to spend time with you!” You call after her, only for her to continue to walk away. 

For the rest of this trip, Natasha knows you’re going to continue to be a pain in her ass but she also knows that for every annoying and teasing comment, there are ten times as many affirmations of love and whispers of sweet nothings. 

You whisked her away to give her the break she so greatly needs and deserves and you plan to make sure she enjoys it in full.

* * * * * *

Taglist: @owloftheshadows

[cudan2]

We’re Only Human

Spring Break Shadowing Part 4

Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Word Count: 2,040

Summary: It’s the last day of shadowing with Dr. Cullen, but you’ve come to realize a little more about how you feel towards him. Cue crushes and a little bit of chaos along the way.

A/N: I finished the semester and can actually dedicate time to writing this again because instead of being on spring break, I’m now on winter break. I also chopped this part in half because it was probably going to be over 6,000 words otherwise and that’s just a lot compared to the previous ones. Bear with me, guys. Another note - I’m thinking about posting this on Ao3 but will rewrite it because I don’t know what I was thinking when I wrote this in present tense lol. 

Anyways, this is #8 on my headcanon list.

Masterlist

XXX

You don’t know how it happened, but time is on your side and you’re running early this morning. The sun has just risen and casts a warm glow across the hospital as you make you way to the Starbucks, determined to be the one to buy Doctor Cullen his drink for once.

Meeting him here every morning has become a tradition, a tradition that involves him getting you breakfast every day you’ve shadowed him this week. The two of you would chat about various topics while walking to where ever he had to be next. Sometimes you would prod his brain with more medical-related questions, occasionally he would tell stories from his past, but regardless, his every word had you captivated.

Alright, perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to finally admit that you may or may not have developed a tiny crush on Doctor Cullen. To be fair though, this is your last day shadowing him and it’s not like you’re ever going to see him again anyways. You feel a pang of disappointment at the thought, but it soon disappears when Emily greets you at the counter.  

“Hi, Y/N! Where’s the doctor today?”

“I was running early today, so I figured I’d grab both of our drinks.” You place your order and ask the barista what Doctor Cullen’s “usual” was.

“Oh that?” she laughs. “He gets boiling water. It’s a little weird, but I just assumed he makes tea with it.”

Boiling... water? You think back to the last several days and try to remember what Doctor Cullen even did with his drink. He definitely never made tea with it. In fact, you don’t think he’s ever taken a sip out of the cup before throwing it away.

“Then I’ll be adding a grande boiled water to my order,” you tell Emily and thank her before she moves on to the next person in line.

You wait to the side for your food and see Jaime standing there too. He’s wearing a backpack and a faded college sweatshirt thrown over his scrubs, and you’re reminded of how many years left of school you have before you can even call yourself a doctor. You wave to him, and he pulls an earbud out from his ear with a sleepy smile.

“Hey, what’s up?” he greets you.

“Nothing much, just grabbing something to eat before the day starts. I’m surprised to see you here though. What happened to morning rounds?”

Jaime lets out what you can only discern as a mix between a hollowed laugh and a groan and tells you about forgetting his coffee at home. “Don’t even get me started on this morning. My car died on me, so I had to get an Uber. Lo and behold, there weren’t any Ubers around either, so ya boy eventually took not just a taxi, but a taxi and the train. By the time I got here, I realized my coffee was still on the counter at home, and so now I’m here.”

Damn, and you thought mornings were rough for you.

“Sorry to hear that! Did you get in trouble for being late?”

“I called Doctor Cullen myself and told him what was happening. He was so understanding, god bless, so I’m in the clear for now.

At the mention of the doctor, your thoughts instantly go back to blond tresses and a brilliant smile you already know you’ll miss when you leave the hospital for the last time today.

“Yeah, he’s pretty great, isn’t he?” you say a little too dreamily. Jaime gives you a knowing look and you rein it back in, hoping you haven’t exposed yourself already.

“You know, I think he’s going to miss you the most when you leave.” You don’t even get the chance to react when Jaime continues on, “Don’t get me wrong, Lily and I will definitely miss having you around, but the man really took a liking to you a lot faster than he did with us.”

“What do you mean?”

“He always kept us at an arm’s length before you came around. All of that personal stuff you get out of him would have taken him weeks to tell us before, and that’s if we’re lucky. He just seems more comfortable around you,” Jaime shrugs. His coffee is then called out, cutting off anything he wanted to say next. “That’s my cue. I’ll see you later!”

You take a moment to mull over what Jaime said. From your perspective, Doctor Cullen has treated you exactly the same way he does with everyone else. You don’t dare to over think what Jaime could be saying – over thinking never leads to anything good. And yet, the damage is done. The seed has been planted and now you can’t help but wonder about what made you stand out to the doctor.

Your own order is called, and you’re pulled from your thoughts with the smell of warm food.

Now armed with two beverages and a pastry bag sandwiched between your fingers, you make your way to a nearby table to wait for Doctor Cullen. Your wait is soon cut short though, as you see him walking towards you out of your peripheral vision. The clouds shift and the sun shines through the windows again. Its golden rays pass over the doctor, and for a second, you swear you could see him shimmering in the sunlight.

You squint strangely and blink a few times. Get it together, you tell yourself. Over thinking is clearly playing some weird psychological tricks on your eyes, and you still needed to be on your A-game.

“Hey you,” he flashes that familiar smile once more when reaching the table you are settled at. “You’re early today.”

“I am. It even gave me the chance to get you your water.” You hand him the cup with a smirk, having made sure to put a sleeve on it earlier because unlike Doctor Cullen, you actually have hands that hold the risk of being burnt.

“Ah, I see Emily has divulged one of my secrets with you. Thank you, Y/N, you really didn’t have to.”

“It’s nothing,” you insist. Seriously, water is free at Starbucks. “Think of it as a small thank you present. It’s the least I could do for the amazing surgeon that let me follow him around for the week.”

“Hmm, I think you may have meant the amazing, extremely kind, highly skilled, and not to mention, quite dashing–”

“Okay! No need to flatter yourself,” you laugh, trying your best to refrain from rolling your eyes. In all honesty, you can’t describe him any better. Add in attractive, intelligent, compassionate, way too humble sometimes, and it would be the perfect recipe to recreate another Doctor Cullen.

From there on, your daily routine at the hospital continues without a hitch. It’s a morning filled with back to back surgeries and question after question thrown at you from the doctor. There is no doubt that he is keeping you on your toes – literally and figuratively. You have to admit though, you are pretty proud of yourself for being able to answer the majority of his questions.

Your feet swing aimlessly while you spin around in a padded chair in Doctor Cullen’s office. Your laptop is open on his desk, displaying a blank document that’s meant to be your personal statement. It has been a little over an hour since he left you here to attend a mandatory meeting and you are starting to get antsy.

Aside from several stacks of files and other various papers, the desk lacks the small trinkets you would expect to see. As a matter of fact, the office itself is surprisingly void of anything personal. There aren’t any pictures of family, friends, pets, not even of a possible wife. There are no decorations on the wall either, and if it weren’t for the leather briefcase leaning against the side of the desk, you’d never believe this office belonged to him. No wonder he spends as much time as possible outside of this dismal room.

As you continue spinning in the chair, you bring up a paper fortune teller made earlier from a sticky note. You choose a color, two subsequent numbers, and flip open the flap to reveal the fortune.

Brunch date with Dr. Cullen.

The things you do to kill time. Your friends would never let you live this down if they could see you now.

Just as you’re about to go another round with the fortune teller, the door opens and Doctor Cullen walks in. The fortune teller goes flying out of your hands and onto the floor next to you as you jump in surprise and halt the spinning.

“Sorry about the wait, Y/N. I’m afraid the meeting took longer than expected,” he says, his words laced with a hint of bitterness. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice you nearly jumping out of your skin. Not wanting to draw attention to the fortune teller on the floor, you leave it there for now and start packing up your stuff.

“I presume you found a way to entertain yourself?”

“Kind of? I tried starting my personal statement again. It’s really not coming together,” you laugh dryly. Too preoccupied with turning off your laptop and putting it away, you don’t notice that Doctor Cullen walking around to the head of the desk where you are until it’s too late.

Oh crap, the fortune teller. Of course, he just has to notice it too and picks it up with a curious expression. You look up, and he’s standing there with it in his hand.

“Did you make this?”

You leap up from the chair and snatch it out of his hand before he can examine it any closer. There is no way in hell you’re letting him open it.

“Uh, yeah... It’s just something we used to make in elementary school – nothing special!” You try to play it off as cool as possible and slip the fortune teller into the small trash can underneath his desk. “So what’s next on the schedule?”

He takes a moment before answering you. You see his eyes study the way your fingers nervously fidgets with a loose thread on your shirt. He seemingly brushes off the interaction that occurred and responds, “Pre-op. I believe this one will be much different than the others you’ve observed this week.”

“What’s different about it?” you ask. Doctor Cullen starts to leave and holds the door open for you.

“You’ll see.” You don’t have to look at him to know he’s smirking.

He shuts the door and you start walking towards to the surgical department when a hand abruptly pulls you back just a little too hard. You trip over your own feet in the process and in some miraculous, but also really unlucky, sadistic, cruel-of-the-universe sort of way, land in Doctor Cullen’s arms. Goosebumps form up your arms where he’s holding you, and you can’t tell whether it’s from the temperature difference or the fact that your face is only an inch away from his chest.

You are absolutely mortified to say the least. Heat begins crawling up your cheeks and if there was a witness, they would have seen you quite literally jump out of the doctor’s arms.  

“I’m so sorry, Doctor Cullen! I didn’t mean to trip and fall and–”

“No, no, please, Y/N. It was of no fault of yours. I admit, I wholly underestimated the extent of my strength in that moment.” You stare at him, still dismayed at what happened, but it seems you aren’t the only one feeling like a deer in the headlights. “Can you find it in yourself to forgive me?” he asks, smiling meekly.

“It’s fine, these things happen. We’re only human after all, right?”

“...Right.” There’s a moment of silence that goes on for longer than you prefer, and you can’t help but feel like you’re the punchline of some inside joke. You don’t dwell on it though. There’s really only so much social embarrassment you can handle in one day. “Now, if there aren’t any more near-accidents,” he points in the opposite direction and says, “we’re headed to the children’s hospital.”

Oh.

[sanktaleksander]

What about, the prompt number three for Brank? *Puppy eyes*

I’m sorry this took forever but I really loved writing this even when I wasn’t making much progress. I hope you enjoy it!

Brank + 3. touching foreheads

Read on ao3

Billy hated hospitals. He hated everything about them, from all the people always coming and going, the oppressive and glaring fluorescent lights overhead to the constant lack of quiet, be it from the sounds of beeping machines or humming equipment or just the constant sound of conversation. Even the smell, so bracingly potent in its cleanliness seemed to put him on edge. It probably didn’t bother most people, but everything about this place made Billy uncomfortable and ill at ease from the moment he knew he’d have to go inside. Places like this, any clinical setting really, reminded him too much of his past, especially around the time he’d found his mother, practically on life support after she’d nearly drugged herself into oblivion one too many times. The place she was in now still made him uncomfortable, as though he could smell the scent of people’s suffering just from entering the building. Just one more reason he preferred not to see her.

Today though, today he was here for a different reason and if it had been for any other reason, he probably wouldn’t have come simply to avoid stepping foot in another hospital. But he wasn’t here for a friend or even a family member, he was here for someone far more important than either of those designations. 

Billy had taken care of everything personally as soon as he’d been given word. He’d made sure the room was the biggest and best available, had only the best staff on duty with more just a call away if need be and he was sure he could have a jet waiting and ready in under 30 minutes if shit suddenly decided to hit the fan, which Billy always assumed it would even if it never really did. It was the soldier in him he supposed, always having to be prepared for the worst case scenario. He’d learned a long time ago that it paid to have all your bases covered and he was definitely a man with the means to do exactly that.

The ride in the elevator was excruciating, both because of such an enclosed space and the length of time it took to move up several floors even though in actuality it probably wasn’t any time at all. Mostly though, it was because of the series of knots that had formed in the pit of Billy’s stomach, starting the second he got the call. After that, he’d started ringing contact after contact to get everything in place here before ultimately making the trip here himself.

Finally, Billy reached the correct floor and found it blessedly less crowded and a bit quieter, mostly because Billy had demanded the best and was willing to fork over the cash for a bit of privacy. Still, his heart sped up as he made his way down the hall, his expensive Louis Vuitton’s echoing against the tile with every step. 

There was a rather broad man in a black suit standing in front of the door at the end of the hall. His arms were crossed over his chest and his gaze steely. If he was listening to the chatter he was surely hearing from his earpiece, it registered no change in his expression. Billy didn’t have to say a word, the man knew who he was just from sight alone and immediately stepped aside, opening the door and allowing Billy to enter before closing it once he was inside. 

The room was silent except for the steady sounds of the machines that were inescapable in a hospital. It was a rather large space for a hospital room, with an oversized couch and several chairs, some decent wallpaper, and windows that overlooked the city. 

“You didn’t have to do all this.”

Billy had avoided looking at the man sitting in the hospital bed until then, exhaling a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding when he finally managed a look. His eyes landed on the other man’s face, saw the myriad of cuts on his body, some deep enough to require stitches while others were simply bandaged. Not that Billy could see most of his body, just his face, and arms, the rest covered by a gown and the thin blanket that had been placed over him. Still, Billy could see the beginnings of bruises along with other abrasions. He worried about the injuries that he knew he couldn’t see.

It took a moment for him to find his voice as he took everything in. “It’s you. For anyone else, I wouldn’t have but you’re not anyone else.” 

“So I’m royalty now, huh?” Frank’s voice sounded rough and more than a bit tired, but just the sound of it made Billy’s heart beat faster, even as he remained rooted to the spot, still taking in the state of the other man. Leave it to Frank to try and make light of his current situation.

Billy sighed softly then, taking a step toward the bed. “You act like I should’ve done nothing.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal, Bill. Whatever happens to me isn’t your fault.”

“But you could’ve died!” Billy burst out, drawing back a second later, trying not to let his emotions get the better of him. “We’re all going to die sooner or later. You’re still making more out of this than you should be.” Frank insisted. Billy let out a noise of disgust. “Oh spare me that bullshit. Just because we’re all going to kick it one day doesn’t mean we should just act like we have no control over our lives. We shouldn’t just let shit happen as it may, paying no mind to our own safety, just asking for the universe to come and off us.” He shook his head before meeting Frank’s gaze. “Is that what you want? Do you have some sort of fucking death wish that you haven’t told me about?”

Frank scoffed. “You know it’s not like that. I do what I do because I have to, because nobody else will. You know it’s a little more dangerous than some office job.”

“I do but you’re not an untrained idiot who decided to do this for his own jollies either! Would it really be so hard to be a little more careful? Every day I wake up and wonder if this is the day I’m gonna get a call that someone found your maimed corpse in some burnt out warehouse!” Billy was trying so hard to rein in his feelings but this was Frank and nobody else got to him quite like he did and it didn’t help that Frank didn’t seem to understand why Billy would go to such lengths just to make sure he was okay. 

“And so what if I end up dead, Bill? You’d be fine, you’ve got everything anyone could possibly want and if you don’t, you’re more than capable of paying someone to get what you want. The whole fucking world is in the palm of your hand. Compared to all that, why do I even matter?” Frank asked him, watching Billy with almost curious eyes, unused to seeing the other man this way. For a long moment Billy stood silent. His gaze had moved from Frank to somewhere on the floor, but it soon returned to his face and Frank wasn’t sure he quite understood the emotion he saw playing in Billy’s eyes when everything about him was normally so guarded. 

“Don’t you get it?” Billy finally asked him. “Don’t you understand that without you, I’ve got nothing? No family, no friends, or at least none that matter anyway. I’ve got the money and the high powered job and everything that comes with that but none of that matters if you’re not here. How am I just supposed to fucking go on without you, huh? How am I supposed to move on and act like everything is okay knowing damn well I’m never gonna see you again?!” Billy demanded, his voice rising as he began to pace, not knowing what else to do with himself. 

Frank found himself unsure of what to say. It hurt him to see Billy like this, to see him so clearly unhappy when he was usually so calm and practically unflappable in any situation. When they’d been overseas, he’d been a lethal sniper because of his ability to remain in control at all times besides having a perfect shot. He was even like that when they were deep in a firefight. Billy could handle anything. Frank couldn’t remember a time when he’d seen him like this. 

“Bill...I-I don’t…” He couldn’t seem to find the right words.

Billy had crossed to the other side of the room where the windows were, now leaning his hands against the ledge beneath the glass, his eyes trained on the view of the city outside.

“Sometimes...Sometimes I think about trying to convince you to go away with me, to give up all of this, this life you’ve chosen. I think about convincing you to let me take you away from here, off to anywhere in the world that we could want to go as long as it got us out of here and I’d never have to worry about losing you again. We could just disappear, never have to worry about anything anymore. I don’t care about where we’d end up, as long as we’re together.” Billy sighed heavily then, shoulders sagging. “But I know there’s no point in asking. I know I could never get you to agree to it. I may not be able to live without you, but that doesn’t mean you feel the same way about me.”

Frank had never heard Billy speak like that, never understood just how much he cared, not really. He’d always done such a good job of hiding his emotions, but perhaps this time had been one close call too many for Billy. 

“Bill, fuck, I’m sorry. I guess I didn’t realize how you felt. I’m so used to not caring too much about my own survival that I assumed if I was gone, maybe you would be sad, but that it wouldn’t mean nearly as much as it clearly would.” He swallowed, finding a lump had formed in his throat. “But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be lost without you.” Frank managed, his voice much softer now. “I know how important you are to me but I don’t think I’ve been showing it, not nearly enough. I didn’t realize how my own disregard for myself would affect you.” 

Frank’s eyes stayed on the other man as he remained in place by the window, not saying a word. He couldn’t help worrying that Billy wouldn’t say anything else and that he would simply walk out. Frank didn’t want that, didn’t want there to be this tension between them. 

“Bill? Will you come over here? Please? So I can stop looking at your back?” 

For a long moment, Billy still didn’t move. But eventually, he straightened and turned, approaching the bed. Frank recognized the expression on Billy’s face, one he was very much familiar with, the calm, cold look of detachment Billy kept up around nearly everyone and almost all the time. Frank was one of the few people around which he could let that mask disappear and allowed himself to really feel things, but usually only if they were alone. Frank didn’t take offense to Billy refusing to do that now, knowing that the coldness was just his response to his control slipping earlier. It was a defense mechanism for Billy, one he relied on, a sort of self-preservation against rejection or unwanted pain, something he’d been forced to learn from years of being used and having his wants disregarded by people he thought he could trust. He didn’t know how else to handle emotionally charged situations where feelings mattered more than anything else. For Billy, he’d much rather storm a fortified bunker than try to navigate his own feelings. 

Frank wasn’t quite like that, but he understood well enough and he honestly wasn’t much better considering the emotion of his that he was most familiar with was rage. 

But the good thing was that he was also one of the few people who could coax Billy into letting his guard down after he’d thrown every wall back up. It wasn’t always easy, but it seemed Billy responded to him in ways he just didn’t with other people. 

Frank pushed himself up in the bed so he was sitting better, so he could try and get Billy to meet his gaze. “You mean everything to me, you know that?” It wasn’t easy for him to say these things out loud, but they needed to be said and at least they were alone. “I never say it and I clearly don’t show it enough but you’re all I’ve got, Bill. I know I’d never make it if you were gone but I never realized that you would feel the same way about me.” He exhaled a deep sigh, looking down at his hands, the knuckles wrapped up as they’d been split and bloody when he came in. “You’re the only one who even remotely understands the shit that goes on in my head. I don’t have to act like I’m something I’m not with you. You don’t look at me the way some people do, like I’m a ticking bomb they don’t know how to defuse. You’re the only person I know that won’t let me down…” He looked up, surprised when he found Billy’s eyes on him. 

The look in Billy’s eyes was unreadable, those dark eyes revealing little though Frank felt like Billy was studying every bit of him, as though he were peering into Frank himself, picking up on all the things the other man had left unsaid. 

Frank didn’t move when Billy stepped closer, didn’t shy away when the other man carefully reached to touch his cheek despite having several cuts on that part of his face. He didn’t care honestly, he wasn’t afraid of Billy in any sense, but he definitely wasn’t going to pull away now, not when he saw the way Billy’s expression changed. Those eyes were no longer distant, instead, they were now watching Frank in a way he couldn’t quite describe, though he found this look familiar. He’d seen glimpses of it when Billy thought Frank hadn’t been paying attention, only for it to disappear as soon as he realized that Frank had noticed. Frank wasn’t entirely sure what it meant, but he didn’t look away, leaning into Billy’s hand as the man’s thumb brushed over his cheek. Billy so rarely gave out affection, not that Frank was much different, but it was even rarer that Frank received affection nowadays from anyone so he relished it while he could, the look in Billy’s eyes making him feel things he thought he’d long since left behind.

Frank had been so caught up in trying to piece together the thoughts going on behind Billy’s expression that he didn’t even register when the other man moved, not until Billy was already kissing him, almost hesitant at first. For a moment Frank froze, his surprise immobilizing him until his brain came back online and he registered just how good all this felt, from the warmth of Bill’s lips against his own, how unbelievably soft those lips were, to the hands that were now framing his face, cradling his cheeks with the utmost care. 

Frank hadn’t kissed anyone in a long time, enough that he couldn’t even pinpoint the last time in his mind, but he couldn’t recall any of his past experiences making him feel like this, that despite his multitude of injuries, all he could feel was how good kissing Billy felt. 

His bandaged hands reached forward, grabbing handfuls of Billy’s suit to try and tug him closer as he leaned in, kissing Billy back, not expecting the swell of emotion that rose up inside. It felt this was something he’d been waiting to happen for years, like Frank’s whole world suddenly made sense in a way it never had before. 

When they parted, Billy didn’t go far, resting their heads together as his thumbs continued to stroke over Frank’s cheeks. “You’re it for me, Frankie. If you’re gone, then I might as well go with you. If you’re not here, then nothing else really matters.” 

Those words hit Frank especially hard, the look on Billy’s face that he’d been trying to understand beginning to make a lot more sense. “I’m not going anywhere.” He promised softly, reaching up to gather Billy’s hands in his own, pressing his lips to the other man’s knuckles. “I won’t do that to you, Bill, I’m not gonna leave you.” He leaned up and Billy didn’t hesitate, meeting him in the middle to kiss him again as Frank squeezed his hands. 

For a moment they remained that way, neither in much hurry to move. But when they did separate, Frank briefly worried that Billy would change his mind and act as though none of that had just happened. But much the opposite happened.

Billy slipped out of his suit jacket and for a second Frank didn’t understand why, not until the other man returned to the side of the bed and Frank quickly understood what he was silently asking for, even if Billy couldn’t bring himself to voice the words. This wasn’t unusual either, they always seemed to be on the same page about almost everything. 

Frank carefully shifted himself on the bed, moving his body to one side in order to leave enough room for the other man’s long frame. It wasn’t easy and it took a good bit for both of them to get comfortable, minding the wires and tubes attached to Frank as well as his numerous injuries. But soon Billy was tucked under Frank’s chin, a careful arm secured across his torso, his head resting so he could hear the other man’s heart beat. 

Frank wrapped an arm around Billy, nuzzling his nose into the softness of his hair before pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Billy responded by lifting his head to press a kiss beneath the curve of Frank’s jaw. 

“You don’t ever have to be without me if you don’t want to be, okay?” Frank’s fingers traced down over Billy’s arm. “I’m yours if you’ll have me.” 

“Yeah?” Billy responded, “You sure about that?” 

“More sure than I’ve been about anything in quite a long time.” Frank tightened his hold on Billy, tugging him impossibly closer. “I know what I’m asking for, Bill. I know you and I know everything that comes along with you. But you know me too and you know all the bullshit I’ve got hanging on me, always going on inside my head. If you can accept all that and take me anyway, then I know I can do the same for you. I just wish I’d made this decision a long time ago.” 

Billy said nothing for several minutes, listening to Frank’s heart and the steady sound of his breathing. He’d avoided shit like this for years, refusing to let anyone get close enough to be with him like this unless it was some sort of fling and those never lasted long. He’d always moved on eventually. But Frank was different. Frank had been his one constant since they’d met and he was the only person to look every horrible thing about Billy straight in the face and not flinch, not even a little. And if they were going to get to have more moments like this, then wasn’t that all he’d ever wanted all along? No one had ever touched him like this, wanted him like this. If Frank wanted him, would it really be so bad to let Frank have him when he wanted Frank just the same?

This time when Billy lifted his head, he made sure he met Frank’s gaze, looking into those brown eyes that he had always found so welcoming whenever they were on him. “You and me, huh? This mean you’re gonna propose too?”

Frank’s face broke out in a smile at that, one that made his laugh lines come out and his eyes light up. “Whatever you want, sweetheart. I’d be content to spend the rest of my life making you happy.” 

Billy had to kiss him again when he said that, sure this would be just one of many more to come. And as he once again made himself comfortable in Frank’s arms, Billy found himself at ease inside a hospital for the first time in his life. Funny how being with that right person could change things completely.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

I’m Always Curious Part Six

Previous Part | Next Part |  Masterlist Notes: Not beta-read. Caladega Canyon and Sandblossom are made up places lol I hope everyone is well :) Summary: There were no mandates against using the lightspeed breakaway factor to go back and observe places in other times, but it was unlikely that we were asked to do as such. 

There was an air of excitement around the ship. After dropping the Anil crew off at Starbase 389, a mission had come down from Starfleet high command that we were to head back to Earth. This was an order that sent shock waves through the bridge, right down to engineering. There were no mandates against using the lightspeed breakaway factor to go back and observe places in other times, but it was unlikely that we were asked to do as such. I hadn’t expected a call up to the Captain’s ready room for a briefing, but I was there, wedged between Thaleh and Nahn. “We’ve been ordered to go back to observe Earth in the year 1868,” The Captain informed us from where he was standing at the head of the table, “It was the last year in the 19th century that the Leonid meteors made an appearance. They want us to get a look at it, then slingshot to 1899 for comparison, confirm the conditions and why they didn’t make a reappearance.” “I assume this has to do with the increased Leonid activity around Earth recently?” Spock asked. “You assume correctly, Mr. Spock,” The Captain nodded to him, “We’ve been directed to observe this phenomenon from the ground and from the ship, so an away team and I will be beaming down to the surface to observe.” Why the hell was I there? “We need people that know the era, and can embed convincingly on the off-chance we encounter anyone.” Ah. In our many conversations, in one of the instances wherein the Captain had mentioned horses, I’d let it slip that as a child, I’d had a slight Wild West obsession. The Captain had caught my eye as he’d said it, as if he’d read my mind and heard my question. “We’ll be arriving at Earth in forty-eight minutes. Get prepared. Dismissed,” He added, nodding to us. --

Number One sent a note to me PADD to reconvene in the Captain’s ready room once I was ready to beam down. I’d arrived first and was looking out of the window as I fiddled with my clothing. I’d been provided with a few options and had chosen a pair of pants, a pale pink button-down, and a sturdy dark grey wool jacket; the boots I’d been chosen to use were my own - older and scuffed, the laces slightly frayed. I turned to see the Captain walk in as I straightened my jacket sleeve. “Is the wardrobe up to snuff?” He asked. “You’re going to have to define ‘up to snuff’,” I said critically, looking down at myself. It was clear that they’d opted for clothing we’d be able to move around in. “Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t entirely uncommon for women to wear pants on the frontier, but if we wind up in a town somehow, I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw some crinolines... Then again, maybe not, that was a more mainstream style, I don’t know how quickly it would’ve carried out West...” I had dipped into rambling, and I only noted in when I turned back to Pike and found him leaning against the wall with an amused smile. “... The wardrobe is fine,” I said after a moment, wishing I’d started and stopped with that, “Who else is beaming down?” “Number One and Connolly,” Pike said. I nodded, glancing over at the Captain. He looked like a clean-cut cowboy - a button down under a black waistcoat, dark pants not dissimilar to his uniform pants, but a looser cut. All he was missing was the hat. I let my eyes drift up to the Captain’s face to find him watching me, and I felt my face flush hot. I couldn’t bring myself to look away, though; he wasn’t looking away, either. And he wasn’t frowning, or staring me down because I’d just been watching him. He was just... Looking. My gaze was drawn away when the doors whooshed open and Number One and Connolly stepped inside. The plan was to beam down around dusk, set up our observation site, take our recordings and beam back up. “Let’s go,” the Captain spoke up, drawing our attention. -- We’d staked out on the edge of Caladega Canyon. Number One and I had set up the equipment while Pike and Connolly had started a fire for warmth. It was already cool, and the sun hadn’t even fully set yet. I knew from the maps that there was a town a few miles north of us, and I was itching to go, but I knew that that wasn’t a possibility. We had our orders, we would get the readings and beam back up to the ship.  I lowered myself to sit beside the fire, folding my legs and gazing up at the sky. As much as I loved being in space, there was just something different about getting to look about it from a planet’s surface. “Are you cold?” Pike asked. I shook my head, despite the fact that I’d just tightened my collar around my neck. “I‘m fine,” I said, smiling. “Glad to hear it, because we heard from the Enterprise and we may be camping out overnight. The proximity of the Leonids is interfering with our transporters,“ Number One said, approaching us. “Looks like a picked a good coat,” I commented. “Good thing we didn’t have any crinoline,” Pike added. I snorted, unable to help it, and quickly averted my eyes as Number One gave me a look. -- Once our readings were complete, we chose to take watches in shifts. I went first, then Connolly, then Number One, and Pike would take it last. Every shift would check in with the Enterprise to monitor the transporter situation; as soon as we were clear, we’d alert the others. When I woke up, the sky was still dark. The fire was nearly burnt down to its embers; I was a bit chilly, but that was nothing a hot shower and a cup of coffee wouldn’t shake. I looked around, spotting Pike at the edge of our little clearing, sitting on the ground and facing the canyon. I propped myself up on my elbows, glancing between Number One and Connolly. They were sound asleep. I pushed myself off of the ground, walking over to where Pike was and sitting down beside him. “Sleep alright?” He asked, smiling at me. “About as well one can on a desert floor, yeah,” I nodded. Pike chuckled. “If we’d been a little more prepared we could’ve brought down a few blankets and made it much more comfortable,” He commented. I hummed, drawing my knees up to my chest. “Are you cold?” Pike asked, a little more knowing this time. I just shook my head. There was a pause before Pike muttered, “Liar.” I turned to look at him, face a mask of shock, and he laughed. I shushed him, glancing back at the other two to make sure they hadn’t woken up at his outburst. When I was satisfied that they’d remained asleep, I turned back around, shaking my head at Pike, who was still grinning. “We could go into town and grab something,” Pike offered. “We don’t have any money,” I pointed out. “Well, we could go into town and look,” He countered. I smiled at him, unable to help it. “As curious as I am, we have a job to do down here,” I pointed out. Pike nodded, conceding. “We do...But we did it. When are we ever going to be here again?” He asked. I lowered my eyes before I turned to look out over the canyon, considering. He had a point, but going into town felt like inviting trouble. “Let’s just...See what we hear about beaming back up,” I offered. Pike nodded beside me. “Diplomatic,” He commented. I shrugged. “There are too many unknowns. I wouldn’t feel comfortable going into town unless we knew we had a reasonable exit strategy.” “Tell me what you know about the town,” Pike requested. I frowned, turning to look at him. “What makes you think I know anything about it?” I asked. He fixed me with a knowing smile. “Call it a hunch.” I turned my eyes to the sky, recalling what I’d read about the town before I’d made my way to meet with the others in the ready room. “Sandblossom started as a silver mining camp. It went through a population boom about seven years ago, but it’s starting to dwindle now. It’ll be a veritable ghost town by 1872. Railroad doesn’t come out this way, and there’s a pretty bad mine collapse in the future,” I frowned, “It just can’t sustain.” Pike hummed thoughtfully beside me. We were quiet for a little while, watching the sky begin to lighten. I wrapped my arms around myself as a strong wind pushed over the mouth of the canyon. “Here,” Pike began to take his jacket off, but I shook my head, arguing, “Don’t. Honestly, I’m fine. It’s just a little chilly-- And if you catch a chill, Dr. Boyce’ll have all our heads when we beam back up.” Pike shrugged the jacket back on, his face thoughtful before he scooched a little closer. “Body heat works just as well,” he pointed out. I nodded a little bit as his thigh pressed against mine. “That’s true,” I muttered. Pike’s arm wrapped around my shoulders, tentative. “Is this alright?” He asked quietly. I nodded, and his hold grew more firm, pressing me into his side. I leaned into him almost unthinkingly; as soon as I’d realized what I’d done, the logical part of me told said to lean away, apologize. But I was already warmer, and Pike wasn’t pushing me away; instead his hand was rubbing over my shoulder to create a little additional warmth. I hesitated before I rested my head on his shoulder. “Is this alright?” I asked. “Of course,” He answered. Of course. As if this was totally normal, as if we did this all the time. “Tell you what,” Pike said quietly, “Once we get transporter capability, I’ll see if we’re able to go into town for a bit.” “What for?” I asked. “Just to have a look around.” I tipped my head up to look at Pike. “Curiosity killed the cat, Captain.” He smiled. “Satisfaction brought it back, Lieutenant.”

[jaembby]

three course meals

Pairing: (SF9) Jaeyoon x f reader

warnings: none

words: 1.6k

prompt: hi~! 😳can i request a fic featuring sf9 jaeyoon please? (◕‿◕ )the plot is he is doing his "I can do it" live series. this time he is challenged to cook the recipe from his gf (let's say it's a 3 course meal) and then his gf is telling all the cooking step through a phone call. in the end of the live broadcast, his gf come visits him to try the meal that he made.stay healthy, stay happy and have a great day~ 🥺🥰🧡

requested: yes! by @jsnyoung

a/n: i’m really tired right now so i haven’t proof read this yet. maybe i’ll do it in the morning. the writing is probably going to be shitty because i’ve rushed it a bit and am literally about to fall asleep but if it’s too bad, when i proof read it, i’ll fix some bits up! sorry for the wait @jsnyoung but thank you for requesting!!

-----

“What do you guys think I’m doing today?” Jaeyoon asks his fans as he waits for your call. Today, Jaeyoon is getting you, his girlfriend, to help with his “I can do it” live series. He’s going to cook a three-course meal of your choice with you guiding him through the phone. What he doesn’t know, however, is that you’re planning on getting him to make one of the courses the same meal that you and him had ordered on your first date.

“’Are you going to make something?’ Good question! As a matter of fact, yes, I am making something! And hopefully it turns out okay... if not, blame y/n!” Jaeyoon laughs as he reads comments, awaiting your phone call.

“ ‘When are you going to start? What are you going to make?’ Well... honestly, I’m not even sure what I’m going to make. Today, y/n is going to tell me what to make over the phone so I’ll start as soon as she calls!” Jaeyoon smiles at the camera as he awaits your call. ring He picks up on the first ring, eager to get started. 

“Angel you’re going on speaker and I’m live, okay? I mean you already know that but I’m just reminding you.” Jaeyoon says quietly into the phone before turning back to the camera and introducing you. “Fantasy, as some of you probably know, this is my girlfriend. Y/n say hi to Fantasy!” 

“Hi” You say happily as you get a recipe for what Jaeyoon is going to make. “Today, our Jaeyoon is going to make a three-course meal! With the hepl of yours truly, of course.” Jaeyoon laughs into the phone at your statement as he questions you on what it is that he’s actually meant to be making.

“I’m glad you asked, Jae. Well, for the appetizer, it’s a chicken salad. It’s easy enough so you shouldn’t need too much guidance, or at least, I hope not.” You tease him. Jaeyoon starts getting what he needs from the fridge and cupboard as you read out the comments. “ ‘Jaeyoon should cook for Fantasy!’ ‘y/n should be in his lives more!’ ‘Eat well!’ Thank you for the last one! Also yes, Jaeyoon should totally cook for you guys and feature me in his lives more often!” “Nuh-uh, princess! You’ll take all my fans away!” You laugh at this as you jokingly tell him that he might be right before instructing him on what to put in the salad and how much.

Soon enough, Jaeyoon’s finished with the first course and puts it in the fridge for later. “Angel, what’s next?” He asks you just as you get a recipe up for the next meal. “Well, my dear boyfriend, I’m sure you’d be familiar with this one. If you remember what we had on our first date, that is!” You say excitedly into the phone as you tell him what he needs. “Okay... I’m sure Jae already knows what he’s making but Fantasy, in case you haven’t guessed already, it’s a creamy tuscan chicken! We actually had this on our first date so it’s pretty special for him to make this.” “Here we go again... y/n being hopelessly romantic!” Jaeyoon laughs as he begins to season the chicken. “Jaeyoon! Look, your fans think it’s cute!” It’s as if Jaeyoon can hear your pout over the phone as you complain about him calling you hopelessly romantic. “Angel, don’t worry, I think it’s cute too!” “I know” You giggle. 

Jaeyoon heats the oil in the pan and starts placing the chicken in. “You know, I’m doing pretty good. If I do say so myself!” Jaeyoon smiles proudly at the camera. “Oh! I should tell Fantasy about that one time you nearly burnt the FNC building down!” You say with a smirk, although no one could see it. “Will you ever stop teasing me for it?” “Nope!” You say as he flips the chicken over. “Look, all of your fans want to know what happened! Can I tell them? Please?” You ask. “Fine!” He draws out the syllables. “I mean you were going to anyway, weren’t you?” “Yeah I was!” You laugh at the slight redness on your boyfriends cheeks.

“Well, one day I was over at the dorm hanging out with Jae and the guys and he decided to make ramen! Now, he’s not a bad cook, considering he’s only ever used recipes. Anyways, we all decided to watch a movie. It was about half way through when Jaeyoon decided he wanted to make the ramen so he got up and did that. He’d left the ramen in the water for a bit and came back to see what was happening as he let it cook. Jae  must have lost track of time because all of a sudden, Chani comes in and asks “Hyung, what’s that smell?” We all turned towards the kitchen as we saw smoke and Jae realized what he’s done. It was so funny! All of a sudden, Youngbin, Zuho, Jaeyoon and Rowoon all rushed to the kitchen while Dawon recorded and Inseong, Taeyang, Hwiyoung, Chani and myself burst out laughing. It turns out the ramen had been left for too long and had caught on fire so Youngbin, Zuho and Rowoon had to put it out. It’s safe to say that Rowoon sticks to cooking in the dorms now. Hey Jae, ask Dawon if he still has the video!” You laugh at the memory as you read the comments on Jaeyoon’s live. Fantasy all find it funny, too.

Jaeyoon’s already added the garlic, onions, tomatoes and spinach into the mix and is now putting the cream, salt and pepper into it. “Well it looks like I’m a much better cook now since there’s no fire this time! Y/n, do you know what you want me to make for dessert? I’m nearly done with this, angel.” Jaeyoon says as he adds the last ingredients - parmesan cheese and parsley - and stirs the mixture before mixing it one last time and putting the creamy chicken into the oven so it stays warm.

“As a matter of fact, I do know what to make next! How does Brownies sound?” You laugh as you see his face light up on the live. “Sounds perfect!” Jaeyoon says as he gets everything he needs to make them. You and him have made brownies together so many times that it’s just muscle memory now. The recipe is implanted in both of your heads. You smile while watching his live as he starts making them without needing any instructions.

 “We have to make brownies when you come over again, y/n. It’s our thing.” Jaeyoon says as he pops them into the oven and turns back to the live, smiling as he starts reading comments. “ ‘Jaeyoon how are you?’ ‘What have you eaten today?’ ‘What’s everyone else doing?’ Okay firstly, I’m good, how about you? Second, I’ve had a few snacks but when these brownies are done, y/n should be here and we’ll eat them together. Speaking of which, y/n, you can get off the phone now and come over! Third, honestly I’m not sure what everyone else is doing. I think they’re just relaxing.” After Jaeyoon finishes what he was saying, you quickly tell him that you’re heading over now before getting into your car and driving over to the dorms.

“Boo!” 

“Y/N! You scared me!”

“Yeah that was the whole point!” You laugh as Jae calms his heartbeat.

“You clear the bench and I’ll get the brownies out, Jae.” You call out to him, already making your way over to the oven.

“Well thank you so much for joining me for another episode of “I can do it” today, Fantasy! I’ll feature y/n in lives more if you want? As it turns out, I’m a pretty good cook. We’d better get going now before the food gets cold! Bye bye Fantasy! Goodnight or morning! See you later!” And with that, your boyfriend ends the live.

“Jae, I’ve got to admit, this all looks amazing! Let’s eat!” You say as you portion the food. Jaeyoon brings the plates over to the living room where he places the food on a table and moves couch pillows out of the way so the two of you can sit there.

“Why are we eating on the couch today? I thought Bin didn’t want us to make it messy.” You ask, bringing extra napkins in case anything spills.

“Well, angel, I want to cuddle while we eat brownies and sitting at the kitchen table’s not really ideal in that scenario, is it? Besides, it’s comfy here.” Jaeyoon smiles up at you as he puts the salad bowl and two forks between you. You smile up at him as you eat the salad he made, proud of your boyfriend’s cooking skills... even if this is just a salad. Soon enough you’ve both finished and are onto the second of the three courses.

“Jae is amazing!” You say as you take a bite of the creamy chicken. It really does taste good. Now you’re even prouder of him! You’ve both moved onto dessert now and Jaeyoon moves the plate of brownies to the side before patting the space next to him.

“Come here, angel.” He says with a pout. You move closer to your boyfriend and lean on him as he wraps his arms around your frame. The two of you stay like that for a while, finding comfort in each other’s warmth and taking in the faint smell of brownies and him. 

“Thanks for helping me today, princess. You’re an amazing instructor” Jaeyoon giggles, his voice calming and soft like honey.

“You’re welcome, baby! You’re an amazing cook.” You retort with a smile and small giggle as a content sigh leaves your lips, and Jaeyoon pulls you closer, the both of you staying in this position and eventually falling asleep to the sound of the other’s heartbeat. 

[hello-mojo]

[Ok so the following is a story, (Rise Above This was was a working title) I was working on this completely on my own and I was quite excited about it. I actually had tried to plot out the progression and main plot points, and a few other notes for things I needed to look up and research to mesh the timelines a bit better. I hadn't gotten around to it though and now... well I don't know if I'll ever bring myself to write fanfiction anymore. I loved this story premise though and had such Hope's for it... ah well. The first chapter was completed but there was supposed to be so much more.. Frances having accidental magic and then getting sick and Healer Harry to save her... ah well. If you like the fic let me know, if you want to adopt it, comment.

Oh one other thing... not all the songs are actually nirvana songs, there's a pearl jam song used too but I was looking for songs in the right genre that seemed to work for the plot. It's all fair in fanfic right?

Anyhooty... I doubt I'll post the stories that were completed on my main profile as I orphaned them and they can still be viewedon archive just look up my old. Penname CagedNTorn.

For unfinished stuff I had oh let's see... 3 different charlie/Draco fics I was working on, one that was all but complete... I had a draco/spike crossover fic, plus there was the sailormooon/Harry Potter crossover... that was actually a Drarry fic too, there were a bunch of things that I'll likely never finish. So I'll post them by and by.

Do let me know if there's a better place to post the plot bunnies that are up for grabs.

Now I've blathered enough so here's the first chapter of Rise that can be adopted if someone is interested in finishing it.]

Rise Above This

Draco was backstage at the place he was playing that night.  He sat tuning his guitar wearing ripped jeans and a white long sleeve thermal t-shirt with thumb holes burnt in and also a mohair sweater he was particularly comfortable in.   Western Washington state was wet and cold pretty much all the time.  

This didn't really bother the English man though as England had similar weather.   He'd grown his hair out and had it cut shaggy and it hung in his eyes perpetually now but he didn't care.  It drove his mother nuts whenever she came to visit.  

Narcissa still hadn't quite gotten the hang of blending in with muggles but she was getting better.   She was sitting nearby chattering about her trip to France.   She was wearing faded bluejeans and a fitted corset top that she'd bought in paris.  She also had a posh cashmere sweater on where most of the kids were wearing flannel and converse sneakers, just like Draco. 

She had her long blonde hair pulled up into a ponytail.   Draco smiled at her as she nattered-on about wines and the latest runway fashions.  At least he still had her.  Pansy was floating around somewhere too, probably flirting with someone.   

"I just don't understand why you have to look so scruffy though darling.   You have such a lovely face!  Can't you at least comb your hair back?"  Narcissa was saying.   Draco rolled his eyes at her but gave her a shit-eating grin.  

"Because I like looking scruffy.  It pisses off the establishment.  Even if it didn't, I'd still do it.  Hiding myself away is comfortable."  Draco said, handing his guitar to a stagehand.  

"Besides, this grungy war refugee look suits him.  He's ridiculously hot."  Pansy stated with a grin as she sidled up to accompany Narcissa out front to watch the show.  Draco could already hear the crowd cheering as the lights went down.  Draco and the 2 other blokes, 1 squib and one muggleborn, all cast outs of the wizarding world lined up off stage.   They formed a circle and everyone put a hand in and they shook them, clapped and cried out their chant.    

"Music and ass, gas or grass.  We're here for a good time, not here for a long time.   Lets do this!"  Draco led the chant the guys all cheered and then took the stage.  Dave went first and started a drum beat, Krist was next and began the base-line.  Then Draco, carrying his electric guitar, went to the mic.  He never looked at the audience.   He wasn't here for them,  not really.  He was here for himself.   Because he had something to say.  Even if no one really understood him or interpreted his messages clearly.  

"Come as you are, as you were

As I want you to be

As a friend, as a friend

As an old enemy

Take your time, hurry up

Choice is yours, don't be late

Take a rest as a friend

As an old memoria."   

He strummed the chords and sang the song not really looking at anyone.  He was trying quite unsuccessfully not to think about a certain messy haired brunette.   

After the war he'd had every single door slammed in his face.  Even the most menial of jobs wouldn't hire him.  Potter had kept his word and put in a good word for him and his mother but the blonde on stage really didn't know why he'd bothered.   No one in the Wizarding world wanted him or any other Slytherin around.   Dave was a muggleborn Slytherin in the year below Draco and had also been chased out.  

"Take your time, hurry up

Choice is yours, don't be late

Take a rest as a friend

As an old memory."  

It was hard not to think of Potter when he sang this song because it was about him, at least mostly.  There was always a thinly veiled anti establishment opinion mixed in. The fans loved it though and he didn't really mind.  It’s not like Harry would ever show up and hear it.  He was too busy still saving the world,  having babies and whatever else it was that heros did.  Not Draco.  His long shaggy hair hung in his face as he sang the chorus, and shook his head.  Just one word.  Memory.   His best and worst thing.  His respite and the source of his nightmares.  

He finished off the song and they hit a heavy chord progression into the next song.  

"Load up on guns, bring your friends

It's fun to lose and to pretend

She's over bored and self assured

Oh no, I know a dirty word"  

The kids surged forward jumping up and down and shaking their heads as they raised their fists in the air and sang along.  

Draco had worked with Dave to put his thoughts on the war into muggle terms.  He thought they'd done pretty good honestly.  Even if they hadn't,  the teenagers in Seattle and California couldn't get enough.   He screamed the chorus and the kids screamed it with him.  

"With the lights out, it's less dangerous

Here we are now, entertain us

I feel stupid and contagious

Here we are now, entertain us

A mulatto

An albino

A mosquito

My libido

Yeah, hey, yay"  

Five years ago Draco had left the wizarding world and his mother behind.  Narcissa was more than able to take care of herself.   Draco wasn't concerned about her in that respect.   His father had been a lot of things but stupid had never been one of them.  Misguided certainly,  but not stupid.   

Luscious had moved money around in various accounts all over the world.  He'd taken Draco with him on nearly all of his business trips.  Draco had had many private tutors growing up and could speak French, English, Russian and German fluently.  He could read in several languages.  His father had insisted.  Draco learned to balance a ledger when most kids were learning to ride a bicycle.   

When the ministry had seized their accounts in Gringotts,  they hadn't even seized a tenth of the true fortune.   Draco hadn't needed to work.  He'd wanted to.  However no one would let him.  So he'd packed a duffle bag of casual clothes,  taken his muggle id and cards and left for America.  He'd covered his accent fairly well he thought, and if he came off sounding like a stoned southerner at times… no one pointed it out.  

He met Dave hanging around kings cross station panhandling.   The two 18 year olds decided to strike out together.   Draco and Dave were sitting together at some boardwalk in Seattle, Washington when Draco flipped his skateboard and saw a kid playing guitar near-by.   He'd been hooked from the first chord.  He'd bought them instruments and they taught themselves to play.  

"I think you'll all know this next one."  

Draco hit the distinctive chords and the kids in the audience squealed with delight.  This was more personal,  more singing than the growly screaming.   More about his feelings than anything else.   He hid in his hair not seeing anyone.   In his mind he tried to be back in that skatepark with scraped knees, just him and Dave.  

"What else should I be?

All apologies

What else should I say?

Everyone is gay

What else should I write?

I don't have the right

What else should I be?

All apologies."

He sang the words not looking at his mother, not caring about her reaction to that statement.   He'd forgotten she hadn’t heard this particular song before.   Well she had to find out sooner or later he supposed.   

"I wish I was like you

Easily amused

Find my nest of salt

Everything is my fault

I'll take all the blame

Aqua seafoam shame

Sunburn, freezer burn

Choking on the ashes of her enemy."  

Draco finished the song and the kids were crying out various songs they wanted to hear while cheering and clapping.  Draco loved it.  He lived for it.  They only had one more song to play.  It would end the show on a high note before the next band took the stage.  The next song he was about to play was about a lot of things.  Various parts of the war, Tom Riddles beginnings, the discrimination in the Wizarding world,  his own parents a bit.   In hindsight, Draco realized that he likely should have adjusted the set list a bit when he'd found out his mother was coming to the show.  'Too late to do anything about it now.' He thought to himself.   Maybe they'd finally have a real conversation for a change.  He set his guitar in a stand nearby and took a deep breath.  

"At home

Drawing pictures

Of mountain tops

With him on top

Lemon yellow sun

Arms raised in a V

And the dead lay in pools of maroon below."  

He shook his head, hiding in his hair and not seeing anyone.   Only Dave and Krist, only his guitar.   The kids screamed and jumped and sang along.  Draco thrashed around stage with them, just the microphone cord wrapped around his hand.  

"Daddy didn't give attention

Oh, to the fact that mommy didn't care

King Tommy the Wicked

Ruled his world

Tommy spoke in class today

Tommy spoke in class today" 

The guys backed him up intermittently on the chorus and the base thumped throughout the song, a steady heartbeat.  Draco couldn’t let himself worry about hurting his mother's feelings.   He sang what he needed to say.  He knew nothing was ever simple.  There were at least two sides to every story and a variety of contributing factors.   

"Clearly I remember

Pickin' on the boy

Seemed a harmless little fuck

But we unleashed a snake

Gnashed his teeth

And bit the recess lady's breast."

Draco knew the words painted a vivid picture.   He didn't care.   Maybe people would learn that bullying others for shit beyond their control was stupid and had far reaching consequences.   There were certainly a few chapters in his story that he'd like to rewrite.   

"How could I forget

And he hit me with a surprise left

My jaw left hurting

Dropped wide open

Just like the day

Oh, like the day I heard."  

There was no possible way he could make up for some of the shit he'd done.  He knew that.  He tried to just pass on the lessons.  Hoping that if he could even reach just one person,  it'd be worth it.  Exile in the muggle world.  They weren't so bad really.   Their fashions were quite fun, and much more functional than robes.  He missed making potions, doing magic.  It was a particular skill set that he was good at.  There was no place in the muggle world for magic.  He had to be even more careful now that they were getting really famous.   People were always watching him.  Hiding in the bushes, trying to sneak into his hotel room, everyone wanted pictures of him to sell to the press.  He couldn't risk anyone seeing him perform magic.  He did little things like casting stasis charms or heating up a hot beverage,  or casting a cooling charm on himself and the guy's.  He knew his mind was spiraling away from the uncomfortable conversation with his mother that he was anticipating after this.  

"Daddy didn't give affection, no!

And the boy was something that mommy wouldn't wear

King Tommy The Wicked

Ruled his world

Try to erase this (try to erase this)

From the blackboard." 

He knew his parents had loved him.  They had been very cold, and reserved in all things though.  His mother could be formidable when she wanted to be and his father was doting yet terrifying.   That was something about Tom Riddle's life that Draco had been able to understand.   Feeling alone, as if no one cared, no one understood you.  He knew how cruel kids could be,  because he had been the one leading the mockery in his day.  

He'd never once thought about what it might feel like on the other side of it.  Until he'd been on the receiving end of such mockery, ridicule and unfairness did he begin to re-think his actions as a snotty young man.  The crowd was going wild.  

Draco stood as the lights came up and he bowed with the guys.  They all smiled and waved to their fans.   Off stage, he saw his mother standing with Pansy.  Narcissa looked a mixture of hurt, worried and angry.  A reporter from MTV was there, shoving a microphone in his face.  Draco smiled his small smile,  just a turning up of the corners of his mouth really.   He answered all of the questions asked in a rare and rather lengthy interview,  glad for the temporary reprieve from his mother for the moment.   

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a familiar set of green eyes and messy black hair, accompanied by none other than Hermione Granger and a regular. Analese Taylor was no stranger to Draco. She had been a fan since the band's boardwalk skate park days. Now that they were famous, she was their number one fan. The way Granger was clutching her arms, the strong resemblance between the two women, Draco could slap himself for not realizing what was so familiar about the girl. She had to be related to Granger, no other explanation.

Before he could really panic about the three familiar faces another familiar set of arms was thrown around his knees and a very delighted

"Daddy!" Rang through the room as his daughter Frances threw her arms around him. Draco glanced around for his soon to be ex wife. He spotted her nearby with arms crossed, looking furious. He sighed deeply as he scooped his daughter into his arms. The child was his whole world outside of his music. Draco glanced back towards Potter and Granger as his wife stormed over as the press and other onlookers were cleared out by Pansy.

[mhdiaries]

Classroom Cleo de Nile & Ghoulia Yelps Mad Science Class Journal

Today was the dreaded “Choosing of Partners for Group Projects” although it could just be me that dreads it. I guess it is because there always seems to be a fight to see who gets to be my partner. I suppose that is an arrogant thing to write but it is true. In some ways it is flattering in other ways, not so much. Even Manny Taur goes out of his way to be nice to me. He is not exactly good at it, but he does try. Mr. Hackington decided this year to try and mitigate the chaos by putting all our names into a skull and drawing them out two at a time. There was some complaining about this new development until he finally said, “You get what you gets and you don’t pitch a fit!” My parents used to tell me that when I was a little ghoul, well probably not the way Mr. Hackington said it but he got his point across. Regardless, at least it keeps me from having to say “yes” to one classmate and “no” to the rest. 

Cleo complained the loudest about the new system until our names got pulled as partners... sigh... I love Cleo and she is my beast friend ever but I was really hoping for... well it does not matter. He got paired up with Frankie and I am sure they will do just fine. Normally having Cleo as a partner means... it means the extra credit work I usually do when I am working on a project by myself seems to be enough for both of us to an “A”. Cleo’s main functions include reminding me to do things I have already done and calling Deuce to bring us lunch or lattes. Not that I complain too much about that, and Deuce does have a way of keeping Cleo focused. She also insists on giving the final presentation, which usually goes well since she does command attention. This time though our assignment is to research the Science of Perfume, and then our final project will be to create our very own fragrance. I must say that I was completely surprised by Cleo’s enthusiasm for the project. I am not sure whether to be excited or frightened by this development. 

Finally a project worthy of my royal attention! I must say on past projects I have allowed Ghoulia to do the dragon’s share of the work but this is something I can really get my bandages wrapped around. When we still lived in Egypt, before “the difficulties”, one of my jobs was to oversee the royal perfumers. Nefera used to tell me that it was a job reserved for “a princess who would never become queen” but I didn’t care. While Nefera was in some dreadfully boring meeting about how much grain would be harvested for the year or where to build the next royal monument, I would go down and meet the trade caravans. They would be loaded with spices, oils and exotic flowers from the South and East, and the air was always filled with their fragrance. The royal perfumers and I would choose the best of everything to be had, then they would take the ingredients back to their perfumery and work their magic. I always wanted to join them as they cooked, ground and mixed the different ingredients to make perfume and scented oils, but this was looked upon as a task beneath a princess, so I could only watch. Now that I have a chance to get my hands dirty, so to speak, I can’t wait to get started. 

I have been pleasantly surprised by Cleo’s contributions to our project. She has really taken the dragon by the horns and unlike past projects together, I have had to “run” to keep up with her. Her enthusiasm and deadication to the project are quite refreshing and she has filled my in box with recipes and suggestions. So for the first time in, well, ever, I am feeling like the “weak link” in an academic setting. I find myself not entirely liking it, which makes me feel just a tiny bit selfish and unneeded. Yes, I know that this is completely illogical, but what if it becomes a habit? Will I lose my place in the group if my brainpower is no longer needed?... #DepressingThought

Ghoulia seems to be off her game lately. Usually she’s the zombie equivalent to a ball of energy when it comes to these projects, but lately she’s gone completely passive on me. It’s starting to scare me, and not in a good way. I admit to being more than a bit self-absorbed, but I can always tell when something is really wrong with one of my friends. I asked her what was wrong, and she said she was fine. I know better than to press her on it, or she’ll just retreat into her brain’s fortress of solitude and not come out for days. I suppose I’ll just wait until she’s ready to talk, but I really want her input. She’s my beast friend, and I want us to have fun together on this project. 

I told my mom I did not feel well today and stayed home from school. It was not a lie, but it was not because of a physical ailment, either. Cleo called me several times, but I chose not to answer my iCoffin. I mostly stayed in bed and then I thought maybe I really was getting sick since I did not feel like eating and could not generate enough excitement to read the newest issue of Dead Fast. Apparently my absence was noted, and the cavalry descended on my house after school. I heard the doorbell ring and then I heard the front door open. The voices of Cleo, Frankie, Lagoona, Draculaura and Clawdeen all called out to my mother, “We’re here!” I could smell the aroma of baking cookies drifting out of the kitchen - I thought she gave in to my request to stay home a little too easily. They all headed to the kitchen except for Cleo. I heard her heading down the hall toward my room - I knew it was Cleo because she has a very distinctive gait. She got to my door, knocked once and walked in. “All right, ghoul friend, what, in the name of Bast’s cats is going on with you?” I said nothing was wrong with me but Cleo was in one of her “royal moods”, and I could tell by the tone in her voice that she was going to pester me until I gave her an answer, so I did. I told her how I felt about my role on the project and how I was afraid that my intellectual abilities were the only reason that she and the rest of the ghouls wanted me around. Cleo just stood there staring at me with the strangest look in her eyes.

For a moment I could not decide if she was on the verge of being angry or sad. Then she simply spun on a heel, stepped to my door and yelled down the hall, “Ghoulia’s room - NOW!” The ghouls got to my room in a blink albeit with mouths full of freshly baked cookies. Cleo pointed at Frankie whose mouth seemed to be less full of cookie than the others, “Quickly, when you think of Ghoulia what’s the first thing that comes to mind?” Frankie sparked and said, “She’s kind and helpful!” Then Lagoona said I was “trustworthy and sincere”, Draculaura said I was “funny and sweet” and Clawdeen said I was “brave and determined.” Finally Cleo looked at me and said, “Notice anything in those descriptions that was missing?” I hung my head, a little embarrassed and a lot encouraged. “Now we are going back to the kitchen to eat more cookies, you could join us if you’re feeling up to it... oh and you better be in class tomorrow. We have a lot of work to do.” It turns out that my mother’s cookies are a miracle cure. Who knew? 

Now that Ghoulia is out of her funk, we’ve been able to make some progress. I found several trunks at home filled with jars of oils, extracts and spices. Nearly all of them are still labeled. Probably should be careful with the ones that are not... I seem to remember some were rather volatile when mixed with certain other ingredients. Unfortunately, I could not find any of my old recipes, so this will truly require real experimentation. 

Experiment Notes

Batch #1

Top notes of leather - old gym shoe leather - with a sweaty angst-like finish. It is a smell reminiscent of the odor that emanates from the boys’ locker room after summer football practices. FAIL

Batch #2

Complex floral notes of troll cabbage and broccoli with none too subtle undertones on burnt microwave popcorn. It was quite... breathtaking and also Mr. Hackington’s favorite. FAIL

Batch #3

It smelled like cheese at first then spoiled milk. Disgusting. FAIL

Batch #4 

A frightfully woodsy scent, mysterious yet approachable and our favorite by far. It also hardened in the beaker like cement. We may have discovered a way to create scented construction material but as a perfume - FAIL

Batch #5

Eau de Pit of Goblin Arm. FAIL

Batch #6

Two words - wet werewolf. FAIL

Batch #8

We used an unmarked bottle from Cleo’s collection. It was an odorless black elixir but when we mixed it with vanilla, juniper berry and patchouli oil it opened a portal to another dimension that sucked in half of our experiments before we could put a stopper in the beaker. Cleo blamed the patchouli. FAIL

BATCH #13

Lovely top, middle and base notes - check.

Accentuates rather than overopowers - check, check

Would we wear it ourselves? - check, check, check

Perfection!

Final Grade - A+

Best. Lab project. Ever.

[randomguywithwords]

As The Dust Settles: Chapter 22 (Geten X Dabi Slowburn)

Chapter 22: Lost Memories

AO3 Link

Previous Chapters: 21, 20, 19, 18, 17, 16, 15, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

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On Friday, Dabi found himself surrounded by four figures, recognising only one by his still-long silver hair like strands of moonlight, his hardened, battle-scarred face and calm expression. 

“This is a nice reunion. I can’t say I remember all of you – mostly because I don’t care to do so, but if Nine let you guys into his special club, you guys are likely decent.” Dabi smirked, eyeing each of them in turn. 

The rightmost one, an imposing wolf-man gave a growl. “Decent? I’ll show you decent.”

“Chimera,” Nine, to his left, spoke softly. To Dabi’s surprise, the subordinate huffed and stayed silent. Turning back to face Dabi, Nine said, “It has indeed been a while. You understand the logistics of this experiment?”

“Shigaraki put me to it, of course I do.” 

“Then let us proceed.” Nine stepped towards him, while his minions tensed up. 

“Nine, are you sure about this?” The skinny man directed a glare towards Dabi. Dabi didn’t need that to tell him they were suspicious of him. 

“I’ll be in safe hands. We will meet at the location I’ve given you all. Take care, friends.” Nine gave a wave of dismissal, and with some reluctance, the remaining three departed in silence. 

“Alright, let’s go.” Dabi pocketed his hands and began leaving the forest clearing, heading back towards Deika City. He heard Nine’s footsteps behind him. 

“Your demeanour has certainly shifted. What happened to the old Vengeance?”

“Who?”

“You, obviously.”

Dabi racked his brain, but the name didn’t ring a bell. “Well, I don’t call myself that horrible name now.”

“I’ve heard. Numerous cases of burnt corpses or piles of ashes, blue flames. They call you Dabi now. I thought it was peculiar, but it made sense when I could no longer contact your old mentor.” 

“Your squadmate.” Dabi corrected, the fact returning to his memories. As Nine’s voice entered his head, it hummed in resonance with old recollections where he had met the man in his teenagehood. He now recalled the one encounter, out of the few, where Dabi had first seen that calm, controlled countenance contort with rage, born from the ideology he stole. 

“It confused me initially. I wondered why a man you respected and perhaps even cared for would be subject to your flames. The possibilities ranged from hallucinogens to collateral damage. But no.” Nine murmured. “You killed Dabi intentionally, didn’t you?”

Dabi was silent for three seconds, the air cold as winter storms. “You were right,” Touya said. “He left me for dead, but I escaped, and then...yeah.”

Nine sighed. “How poetic. To die by his partner’s hands, as he let his squad die all those years ago. But that brings me to my other question.”

They were drawing near to civilization, weaving through pine trees and stepping over brooks. 

“Why take his name?” 

“Figure it out yourself,” Dabi said with a forceful tone of finality. “We’re almost reaching the place.” 

To his credit, Nine dropped the subject. Perhaps he did so because he needed what Shigaraki had to offer. Antagonising Dabi wouldn’t be smart.

They were reaching one of the tunnels that led to the Liberation Front’s assembly square, now empty. It was empty, likely only watched by Skeptic’s surveillance. But a few raised eyebrows is all it would draw; Skeptic was too cowardly to question Dabi’s tasks or Shigaraki’s plans. 

“Here?” Dabi heard disgust in Nine’s tone as the musty air rushed out of the opening doors. 

“Can’t let anyone see us. This is good.” Dabi shut the doors behind them. Tapping his earpiece, he said, “We’re good, Doc.”

“I’ve been waiting for a while now,” Ujiko huffed on the other end of the line. “Give me a second.”

“Have a safe trip, Nine, I’ll see you on Monday.” Dabi waved, concealing a grin. 

Nine gave a nod, before Ujiko’s teleportation took hold of his form, and Nine’s body disappeared within the swampy goo. 

Dabi leaned against the wall, feeling more memories return of the other Dabi. The first Dabi. Did I ever know his name? I don’t think he, nor Nine, ever told me. Special forces… all that secrecy. 

He felt his fire ignite on his arm out of instinct. He willed it to die, and instead, let the past engulf him. 

––––––––––

“What’s your name, kid?” 

“Touya.” I rubbed my hands out of instinct. What time is it? How long did I sleep?

“Quirk?”

“I can shoot fire.” 

“Was it you back there? The fire at that mall in the afternoon?” 

“No,” I lied. 

The stranger cocked his head. “I ain’t gonna report you to the police, kid. I’m not exactly on best terms with them myself.” 

“Are you…” The word on the tip of my tongue was like a matchstick to a fuse. 

“A villain?” He scoffed. “I just fixed you up and gave you a place to sleep for the night. Do I look like one?” 

I looked him up and down. Grey coat, green goggles on his forehead, a cigarette in his hand. “No,” I said. 

“Well, your perception needs some work.” He leaned back on the creaky folding chair. “Officially, I’m considered one, but unlike the thugs in alleys like this, I have standards. And I don’t take kids hostage, even if you’re Endeavour’s kid.” 

I backed away, my back slamming against the mouldy bricks. “How did you —“ 

“Please, a fire quirk, and recent sightings of Endeavour at the same mall that was set on fire? Don’t play dumb with me.” 

“That was his doing,” I argued. 

He took a puff and clucked his tongue. “Now you’re blaming it on your dad? Not very filial.” 

“I hate my dad.” The venom coursed through every word I spat out, which seemed to startle even the stranger.

“Hm, some spirit in you. Well, take that bravado and run off now, why don’t you?” 

“What?” 

He quirked his eyebrow. “You heard me, shoo.” 

“But…” My head drooped. “I’ve nowhere to go. I’m running away.”

“Well, you should have thought of a plan before setting fire to a mall, using that as an escape, and nearly choking to death in the flames you made.” Every word in that sentence made my skin shudder. 

I was desperate, I wanted to say, but desperation would only paint me as prey in the underbelly of society, my next stage of hell that the gods were benevolent enough to throw me into.  

“I can help you,” I decided to say, raising my head, mustering the drops of defiance in myself.

The man snorted. “How exactly does a 13 year old kid benefit me? I don’t do teams, boy.” 

“What if I beat you in a fight?” I clenched my fists, which still stung from the wounds. 

He scanned my form and the guise of confidence on my face. “Oh, so you were trained by Endeavour. I thought you were one of those prissy boys enjoying a rich life.”

My face drained of heat and colour. How did he know?

“Look, I’m not a smart guy, but I’m smarter than you. I can make my own assumptions, one of which is that I’d win you in a fight. No contest.”

“I…” My voice trailed off.

“How about this?” The man said, throwing his cigarette behind him. “You know hide and seek?” 

I frowned. “Yes. It’s a childish game.”

“I don’t think so. I think it’s one of the best strategies for its simplicity. Let’s play that game. Give me a minute, then go to the nearby park. It’s midnight, no one will see you. And if you get caught by a stray policeman, I’m not saving you again. Anyway, if you can find me, I’ll let you in. Got it?” 

I gulped, hoping this wasn’t dangerous for myself, but considering how I’d be unconscious for a couple of hours and he hadn’t done anything, I felt a sense of trust in this stranger. 

“Ok, tha – thank you. How long do I have?”

“60 seconds. Start counting.” With that, he left the alley. 

1...2...3

Ten seconds in, I wondered if he was simply leaving me as a twisted joke. How far could he run in a minute? What was his quirk anyway? 

Twenty seconds in, I contemplated scrounging this hideout for whatever I could find and running from him, but the guilt of betraying his hospitality stopped me. 

Thirty seconds in, in a moment of panic, I thought he was going to turn me in. What if people died in the fire? I would be held responsible, wouldn’t I? What if everything he said about himself being a villain was a lie?

The minute felt stretched into eternity with the unceasing torrent of worries flooding my mind. But after being frozen in one spot throughout, I heard myself say 60. Taking a deep breath, I got up and left the hideout, entering the cold night. 

––––––––––

Dabi heard the door groan open. He opened his eyes to see a familiar form, shrouded by a recognizable parka hood.

“You?” Dabi frowned. “What are you doing here?”

Geten’s form went rigid, like a burglar who had been caught by a flashlight. 

“I thought...there was a meeting,” She said. 

“And you chose to enter by this tunnel?” His tone was acidly amused. 

Geten didn’t reply for a couple of seconds. “Yes.” 

Dabi sighed. “For a lieutenant, you’re shit at lying. You were following me, weren’t you? Why would you enter an empty place where you know your entrance would be heard so goddamn clearly?” 

“You were in there for a while. I thought,” She caught herself, but relented. “I thought something happened to you. That man. He looked dangerous.”

Dabi’s breath was stuck in his throat. It was his turn to be stunned. “I was fine, alright. I’m just thinking. So, how much did you hear?” He folded his arms in annoyance, but he found it suddenly difficult to muster anger against her.

“Next to nothing, apart from your farewell. What are you doing when the Festival starts?” 

“I’ll be there during the Festival. Don’t worry.” Dabi figured Twice could simply generate a copy of him. Technically, it was the truth. 

“You’re a liar.” The emotion in her words took him aback, as if that really struck a painful chord in her. “You wouldn’t sound so reassuring. What’s going on?” 

Ugh. Shigaraki won’t be happy if I told her. 

“I’m not going to divulge this to anyone. I’ve no intention to, anyway,” She added.

“It’s just a side task, okay? You can handle the regiment just fine.”

Geten was quiet, then she spoke, “Can we continue this somewhere else?”

“Why?”

“Wouldn’t want to make the amateur mistake you did when speaking to that man.” She gestured around them. 

Ah. Dabi had an idea what she intended to say. “If you say so. Where’s a good place?” 

But Geten responded only by opening the door and motioned for him to follow. 

[slashingdisneypasta]

Feeling kinda dumb asking this tbh. Not sure if you even watched TVD, but in case you did, you know how Bonnie uses Expression Magic which is considered extreamly dark and powerful form of magic (I mean, she literally destroyed hell!) do you mind writing Freddy x victim!reader oneshot where he mets a witch who also practices Expression and is extreamly powerfull? He tries to kill her at first obviously

Omg, this one started out so light hearted but oh my god.

Don't feel dumb!! Its a good ask!! I do watch TVD, and I hope you like this ^^ 

~~~

I wake up the same way I have for the past 3 weeks. With messy hair, slashes through my favourite pyjama shirt and a finger in my hand- well, it isn’t always a finger. Sometimes its an ear, a portion of his ugly sweater, his hat, once even his eyeball. You get the picture though. Unimpressed, I watch the finger turn to gunky, dirty dust. Then promptly get up and tiredly get out the vacuum cleaner to clean up the mess.

Once I’m done, I put the vacuum back in its cupboard down the hall, which at this point I could totally do just from muscle memory and no other senses due to how often this month I’ve ripped something of Freddy’s back out into the real world in my attempt to take him out and kill him off the clean way.

But, I take a deep breath and let it out, exhausted and resigned, as I pull on pants and search through my closet for a shirt to wear out today. I guess I’m going to have to do it the hard way.

Finally, I discard the ruined shirt and wrench on a clean, yellow t-shirt and leave my house.

___TIME SKIP___

“Hey, Bernard,” I beam towards the grassy haired barista. The café’s basically empty, apart from a group of teenagers watching Netflix and Disney plus on their laptops and phone sin the far corner, so I think we’re fine to talk. He looks up from the mug he was drying out, sees my expression and promptly scoffs. Immediately he starts down the bar, past the glass case with all the sweets inside including a delicious jelly slice with lavender for safety that I get when I come here for breakfast, rounds it, and comes all the way to stand very close to me. He holds up his pointer finger between us sternly, almost mad and I focus instead on his hair rather then his face. It really is grassy- not because he’s been playing footy which he likely was before he came to work and not just because its green. Its messy, and multiple shades of different, environmental green. Representing his element.

“Don’t you dare.”

I sigh, and roll my eyes as I sit down in a bar stool, successfully putting space between us as he doesn’t move. “Its kind of a dire situation.”

“A demon?” He doesn’t look at all like it would change his mind on the subject of my using magic if it were a demon. Which it is.

“Yes.”

“What kind?”

“The kind that draws strength from attention, lets move on.” Again, I roll my eyes. Not at Bernard though, this time its Freddy. Yes, he totally is that kind of demon. Not even just because he needs people to believe he exists to work. He’s just an attention whore.

Bernard crosses his arms and rolls his shoulders back, more than expressing his parents’ shared fire element. And, also, his cranky streak. “You will not use magic.”

“I’ve tried doing it the easy way. I’ll be safe, I promise.”

“I’m not worried about you, I’m worried about your neighbours, and the rest of the known universe if you fuck up. Actually, scratch that. Unknown universe, too.”

“I’m not asking you for permission anyway. Just- come on, gimmie the book.” I hold out my hand, looking around for where he could possibly be hiding it. Cupboards? Behind the cupboards? Has he digitised it? He just continues to glower, and its so forceful that I lower my hand and pout. He’s always been the scary cousin in our family.

“Oh, you so are asking me for permission. You don’t know where the book is!” He sneers, and I deadpan deeply at his immaturity.

“Look, Ber, we’re grown adults. Grown! Ass! Adults! I can make my own decisions, now- where is the book?”

“No!”

“Gimmie!”

“I’m older than you, and I say no!”

“Berrrrrrrr- Oh hi Boyd.” I pause in glaring at my Bernard to look at his brother, Boyd walk by from the upstairs apartment, clipping the vizor attachment to his glasses as he’s going out. He looks boredly at me smiling at him and keeps going to the door with an old-fashioned bell fixed to the top.

“You’re here for the grimoire?” He asks, opening the door and turning over his shoulder, and I nod sweetly- he’s sure to be more helpful! “Yeah, Bernard lost it. Hid it so well even he cant find it anymore. Now, I have a date.” He leaves the, now very tense and cold café with a curt, “Later.”

Slowly… I turn to Bernard. He is now avoiding eyecontact. He misplaced… our families… century old… grimoire??! “Find. It.”

Having a change of heart, he heads behind the counter again with a lowered head. “Oof, I’m on it.”

It must take hours, before I give up looking alongside him and sit down to take a rest. The teenagers have gone by now, and Bernard turned the ‘Open’ sign on the front window around to say ‘Closed’. I don’t know how it happened, but at some point, I rest my head on the bench and the exhaustion from not getting full rest for weeks catches up to me, and I fall asleep.

“Back so soon?”

I jump. “Gah!” Turning around to where the voice came from and I see Freddy- clearly, not in a creative mood because otherwise he wouldn’t have appeared so quick. “Why are you here?!”

“This is my domain, sweetheart.” Freddy explains, something I already knew and he knows I already know and I groan.

“It’s the middle of the day! Can’t I have this one moment to sleep in peace??” A wide smile spreads across his face, and I slouch over. Course not. Oh god, I am so tired. Another yell escapes me though, exhaustion making me incredibly jumpy, when suddenly he appears beside me. Physical form and everything, I can feel the fuzz of his sweater on my arm. “Don’t touch me.” I flash him a glare, not daring him. Definitely not daring him- he’ll take it. Just telling him to back the fuck off because I’m tired not only from his unfaltering ability to keep me busy and working, even when I’m asleep, and also now because my dear older, moronic cousin has lost our grimoire which was entrusted to him, which I need to get rid of Freddy, in order to sleep and actually feel rested!

Oh, my goodddddd, I would do almost anything right now to dream about stupid normal stuff like flying, or running from an encroaching car, or falling. Even falling, which wakes you up. At least I can fall right back to sleep.

“Okay, now, see, if you tell me that, I’ll just wanna do the opposite! ~” The clawed glove nears my face and my right eye twitches, but I stand still there with my arms crossed and glare at it. The rusty, nearly black metal nearing my eyes, reflecting the sharp, gross grin on Freddy’s burnt face.

“So, its opposite day then?” I ask, humouring him because what else are you going to do? When he gets bored, he’s even more dangerous.

“Yep!” Visibly, the stripe sin his sweater switch places so its green and red, and not red and green. He thinks he’s funny.

And, clearly I’m exhausted otherwise I never would’ve fallen for that. “Then please touch me Fredrick.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, raucous laughter escapes him, and he holds his belly as he doubles over and laughs. I groan and dig the heels of my hands into my eyes. I need to wake up. “Out of all the obnoxious murderers out there… “I got the worst of the lot.

“Yep, you got me. Now, let’s stop fucking around shall we? Let’s get to the good stuff!”

“Oh no.” I half groan, half whine in dread and fear. Suddenly, the fact that I fell asleep feels like stupidest move ever- at any time, he might kill me. Its just blind luck that he hasn’t felt like ending the game so far. But he could at any time, including this time.

Freddy disappears again, and I whip around to look for him. My heart starts to beat thunderously in my chest because nothing good has ever occurred when Freddy disappears. I’ve been shot, I’ve been crushed under a stone slab, I’ve been choked with 80’s twisted telephone phone cables- I’ve even been kissed. And every time, I get closer to dying. I lose oxygen, I lose blood, I lose morale. Every time I get hurt, Freddy takes me closer to death then before and I think I’m actually gone this time. He’s bored, I’m not enough anymore, the torture is over.

Which is both a relief and even more horrifying then anything else. Tears cluster in my eyes as time goes by and nothing happens. I just see the boiler room around me, everything tinted red and everything damp and shiny with grease and rust. I don’t want to die.

Suddenly, smoke starts to fill the room. Until I can’t see anything at all except the white in front of me and my hand if I would raise it, but I don’t. I just stay very still, afraid of what’s about to happen. “Fr-Freddy?” I call, weak and disappointing myself. I’m a fucking witch… but that doesn’t really mean much in this world. Not without the spell that I need from the grimoire that’s nowhere to be found. I’m a witch, and I’ve raised to think that means something, means I’m a force to reckoned with, but here I am being reckoned with and I’m useless.

The ground underneath me starts to vibrate, and the smoke slowly starts to clear.

I squint, but I can’t see much through the remaining smoke and the tears shielding my eyes except a bright light.

The vibrating gets worse, and I look down and notice that the smoke has cleared enough at the point to see what beneath my feet, and the realisation of what’s there makes fear swarm throughout every crevice of my being. Mind, body and soul.

Train tracks.

My head snaps up again to see the light, a train, barrelling closer and closer to me. It’s so loud now that I’ve realised, I’m about get his by a fucking steam train, that my ears pop and protest to the pain of it all. The train gets closer and there’s Freddy. The fucker. Wearing a conductor’s uniform and hanging out the side of the driver’s compartment. He grins and waives.

I try to use rational sense and move out of the way, but rope shoots out of the earth between the tracks and twists tightly over my shoes. I try to wrench my feet out of my shoes, panicking now as the train tracks are practically jumping, but the ripe starts to climb… higher and higher up and around my legs and my hip and my arms, until I can’t move at all. It’s so tight I can’t barely even breath- not that I’ll need to for much longer.

I brace myself, and squeeze my eyes shut against the now blinding, all-encompassing brightness of the trains light. And then the train hits-

“FOUND IT!”

I’m wrenched suddenly, and violently from my sleep on the counter and straighten up so vigorously that I nearly slip right off the bar stool. There’s drool on the bench from my sleep, my cheek feels stiff from resting on it for a while, and whip around to look at Bernard who’s standing beside me now with the leather bound, yellow paged book that he’s found. I snatch it from his fingers, dropping it on the bench and start frantically looking through it, eyes still filled with tears and now they start falling. I slap a hand over my mouth, stifling the heavy sob that racks my back and shoulders and mouth from the shock and horror of what just nearly happened. I can still see fuzzy blue dots in my vision from the light, and my nose tingles because the train just touched. It smelled like smoke and coal and that’s still in my nose. Theirs white scrapes on my wrists from the rough rope.

“Y/N,” Bernard touches my arm and I don’t push him off, but I don’t respond, either. I barely notice him, too preoccupied with looking for the right spell. I need this to be over, that can’t happen to me again! I’m not brave enough for it. Another terrible sob forces its way from my chest and I feel half like curling into my cousins chest and crying my heart out and half like killing that bastard Freddy. Wrenching his entire nasty existence from unwritten history and tearing it so it will never be salvaged again.

The second half wins, as I go back through the book backwards, and this time find the spell. “Ow-Okay.”

“Y/N, take a moment- “

“No,” I snap. I nearly got h i t, by a t r a i n. A monstrous thing the same colour as Freddy’s blades. Bernard can’t understand that, but I sure as fuck can. Stammering, but sure, I start to recite the incantation under my breath. Slowly it gets louder, as words start to become harder to say and I need concentrate more. Latin mixes together into one big word, and its har don the best of days but when there’s expression magic involved, it takes an army. More.

And I am that, right now.

Bernard looks around as wind, not coming from an open door or window, starts picking up in this room and rushes to shut the curtains and block the rest of the world from seeing in. Napkins go flying, then the chairs topple over, and then finally the wind is so strong that coffee maker rips from the wall and smashes into the glass sweets case.

I don’t see it, because I’m still following the words in the book, but I hear it. But only just, over the terrible wind screaming through my ears. Finally, the spell reaches its peak and the air in front of Bernard and me, who has gotten back to where I am, opens up. Like someone took a knife and tore literally through the fabric of space and time and magic, revealing the familiar boiler room.

The words start to speak on their own. Whispering in the wind and my lips don’t even have to move, so I let Bernard take the book. Its all so chaotic, I don’t know how I know what to do. But I reach forward and just, lightly touch the hole and its like the magic knows exactly what I want.

Dirty dust, like what Freddy turns into when you bring out of a piece of him from the dream world that I’ve been vacuuming for the past weeks appears, connects together into the shape of a man and then twists together slowly, disturbingly like vines until it isn’t dust and vines anymore. Its burnt flesh and knitted, red and green cotton.

And he looks mad. “You bitch.” Is all he manages to say, but it’s got so much hatred and fury in it that I nearly get scared. I feel it creeped into my bones and organ in my chest.

But then I remember. This is my world.

And I don’t want him in it. “Get out.” I spit, and just like the world seems to crash. Eliminating an existence -anything. Much less a person, - is a lot of work and a big deal. It shouldn’t be possible at all, and I believe that. But I believe it like some who believe murder shouldn’t be possible.

But it is and sometimes it happens, in dire situations.

It feels like I’m being torn on the inside, and scraped clean on the outside- punishment, for doing such a thing. Something to make the world balanced for this.

And Freddy warps like The Scream or a computer glitch. Half of him gong up and the other half going down. Its horrifying sight and I’m in so much pain, but I make my eyes stay open.

And then everything goes black.

___TIME SKIP: A Week___

The whole week has gone by like dream. Not a Freddy dream. Not even a happy dream. Just, like its unreal. I don’t feel much, except a slow, soft blankness like when you’re totally out of it in class after a really, really bad day.

Its not particularly a bad feeling, not compared to the horrors I endured before. Its just like I need to rest, after I used so much power, and feeling so much in general.

Oh, and I have. I’ve been sleeping all the time. Day and night. It’s been uninterrupted and nearly… empty, feeling. Bizarly, I’m well aware now when I’m asleep that I’m dreaming. I’m lucid. Like when Freddy would be there, but without him. Its not exactly restful, but still. It’s better than the nightmares.

Right now, I’m going to sleep. Feeling tiredness expand and unconsciousness take over.

Immediately, I nearly jolt right awake again from fear. Nearly. But his hand grips onto my arm before I can.

Freddy’s right in front of me, smiling sharp like a much madder, pissed off the Cheshire cat. “Heya again sweetheart.” His voice sounds too real. His touch feels to real. This cant be- “It took a fucking lot. Pulled a few strings, don’t know how. Don’t ask. But I’m back. Don’t worry though, I’m not about to kill you. That was a real neat trick you pulled… “I jump, and whimper when the a blade on his glove touches my cheek, and he leans much closer.

“So, we have a lot to talk about.”

You didn’t think you could rid of this Slasher, did you?

[naughtynutboy]

i feel like no matter how hard i try or how well things might be going, i'll never be able to sustain an online fandom presence for more than a few months tops before i relapse back into my cycle of not doing anything. this blog is a perfect example of that and i hate it to my core

don't get me wrong, i love this blog and everyone who decided to follow it as well as the sanders sides fandom as a whole, this whole thing has brought me the most amount of joy from an online space i have ever had in my 10+ years of being on the internet. but i feel like i just don't deserve it, you know?

back in the Glory Days of this blog, absolutely! in that short period of june/july/august of 2019 where i was drawing fanart nearly every day, getting involved in the fandom, talking to people, making friends and just generally Living It Up, it was genuinely one of the best periods of my life

i've had terrible social anxiety for as long as i can remember and you would think the anonymity of the internet would alleviate some of that, but nope, not for me! i've always dreamed of being a part of a community and having a circle of online friends to talk to but i was always too scared to actually reach out and do it. until i made this blog, and i actually started talking to some people! it was amazing! i couldn't believe i missed out on all of that and just stood to the sidelines for most of my life! it was the most positivity i've ever gotten for any of my artwork as well, and i still look back on some of my posts to see all the sweet comments and keysmashes in the notes when i need uplifting

but now i feel like i just threw all of that away and i'll never be able to get back to that point in my life. i know everyone gets burnt out and taking breaks is okay, but my issue isn't burn-out. i just switch interests so fast that i can't possibly keep a consistent prescence in pretty much anything

i can pin-point the exact moment when this blog went down-hill and that was when school started up for me in the fall. i was surprised i even managed to last the whole summer, and as soon as school started i could just Feel my interest in sanders sides slipping from me. i didn't want it to go, i wanted sooo bad for it to stay so i could keep posting, keep drawing, keep talking to fandom friends because those are all things that i love to do. but it was like my mind just forgot about all of that and next thing i know i didn't draw anything for nearly 6 months.

i still have unanswered asks in my inbox from when i was taking drawing requests to celebrate 1,000 followers. in fact, i think i only answered/drew one in total. that shit HAUNTS me to this day and i feel so bad. i know they are free requests and i don't have to draw anything if i don't want to, and hell i'm sure a majority of those people who sent requests have forgotten by now or would be totally understanding, but it's a pattern for me. this has happened so many times in my life with things i'm interested in to the point that i don't even know what i'm actually passionate about. i don't know if i actually even like to draw or if it's just a passing hyperfixation that shows up every once in a while. i don't know if i like to write or if i was just hyperfixated on writing for a brief time in the past.

i just want to be active. i don't want this blog to end up like my mineblr. i want to be a Cool Blog with Funny Jokes And Quips that you see on your dash everyday because i follow so many other blogs like that that i look up to. i don't want to be an abandoned ass blog with 1,000+ followers that just goes to waste because my stupid little peanut brain has all the attention span of a goldfish and all the motivation of a rock. i have so many ideas for things to draw, things to write, and i know i can do it because i've done it before and it felt so good. but i know it will all come crashing down in a few months when i inevitably lose interest and then stop posting. how do i stop that from happening.

idk but here's my closing thoughts: i'm sorry for being inconsistent in pretty much everything i do, i'm sorry for all the things i get excited about and commit myself to doing that never get done, and i'm sorry for going inactive for months at a time. this started off not sad but now im sad because i just keep remembering how shit was last summer and how i want that again. also sorry to anyone i've ever talked to one-on-one that i just stopped talking to, i remember all of you and feel really bad for constantly going off the radar. maybe this summer it'll be better but who can say anymore

[eachainn]

The Sun in its Heaven (Wangxian Week Day 4: Chains)

Author’s Note: More of the 12 Kingdoms AU, because I cannot help myself. Warnings for depictions of animal abuse of sentient and mythological animals.

---

Ash coated the inside of his mouth as the fire in the library raged, but that was a distant worry. Lan Wangji passed the books in his arms to the nearest disciple, not bothering to turn to see them scuttle off. There were still others that he needed to retrieve. The most valuable had gone with his brother, wherever Lan Xichen had rushed off to at the start of the attack, but there were still others.

He shuddered before ducking his shoulder to rush inside again. Distantly, he could hear the cries warning him back, but he paid them no attention. The fire was the better alternative to the battle that was raging with enough blood to make his head spin. As least the fire and deadened his nose enough that he couldn’t smell it.

Lan Wangji stumbled through the flames, glancing around as he tried desperately to prioritize. There were too many books to save them all, but there were a few important ones that needed to come out; the music and cultivation manuals especially.

He lunged for the nearest bookshelf, skimming the titles as best he could through the smoke. Lan Wangji grabbed at the books and scrolls, tucking them into his sleeves and into his robes before loading up his arms. If there had been time, and more people free to help, then he could have found carry sacks to sling over him and they could have taken entire shelves out in trips, but he only had his cousin who had been assigned the tending of the riboku tree.

His heart thudded loud at the thought, his whole body shaking. The tree was just in the next courtyard, and just as in danger. Lan Wangji didn’t know if anyone had soaked the trunk down to try and prevent the spread of fire to the tree itself and the ranka that hung on the branches.

He turned to look out the window, past the smoking remains of the magnolia tree, but the smoke was too thick for him to see the riboku.

The ash sat heavy on the back of his tongue. He was the Lan kirin, it was his duty to assist the sect. The riboku was perhaps more important than the books.

Lan Wangji gave the library one last desperate glance before rushing out. He had done what he could do, now there were other duties to attend.

He stumbled out into the open, passing his armful of books to Lan Keji. His cousin stumbled away to the riboku courtyard, Lan Wangji trailing after him.

Lan Keji darted over to one of the chests that held the equipment to tend to the tree, stuffing books into the already overstuffed chest. Lan Wangji watched him work with a nod. It was the best they could do on short notice, and the Wens would surely not bother with the chests when they could safely assume what was in them.

He strode over to place the last of the books in the chest, having to lean on it a bit to get it to close. Lan Keji fumbled with the latch before snapping it shut. His cousin heaved a sigh and then rushed to the tree, drawing his sword. He settled into place, Lan Wangji watching his sword shake. He was sure that his hands wouldn’t be as steady either, but that wouldn’t matter.

He shrugged out of his outer robe, pausing long enough to dip it in the bucket of water that was nearby before adding it to the layers of wet blankets that had been wrapped around the trunk of the riboku. Lan Keji had been busy in between his frantic trips into the library.

Lan Wangji sighed, brushing his fingers over the robe. The spellwork in it would help as well, at least for a little while, but that didn’t help his growing sense of unease.

He fiddled with the ties on the rest of his robes, relieved that his cousin had turned away to mimic him, it made shifting forms much easier when no one was watching.

The robes fluttered to the ground as his forelegs settled on the ground, Lan Wangji shaking himself to rid himself of the last of them. He pivoted as they did, picking them up in his mouth and trotting over to the bucket. He dropped them in, turning with them still dripping to lay them over the tree. They were better served there than on the ground to be trampled over.

Lan Keji was quick to rearranged them, his gaze darting over to him a few times before he scrambled back into position.

Lan Wangji turned his head, pricking his ears as he listened. He could hear the clang of swords, but the only thing he could smell was the fire and smoke. There was a strange weakness in his knees. It could have been the smoke inhalation, but the sensation was growing worse. It was a struggle to keep from inhaling deeply to try and clear his lungs, it wouldn’t help the situation at all.

He shifted in place, trying to place himself to the best advantage. The Wens might not shrink from attacking the Cloud Recesses, but he was a kirin. They wouldn’t hurt him, and he could buy the riboku more time.

The sound of fighting got louder, Lan Wangji feeling himself starting to shake more. It wasn’t fear, or at least not completely. It was something else, something that was flooding him with nothing but dread.

He stumbled to the side, his vision spinning for a moment.

“Lan Wangji?”

He turned his head towards his cousin. It took him a moment to pick him out amid the blurring in his vision and the smoke. Lan Keji was just a white shape, and then suddenly there were more of them.

It took him far too long to realize that the others were in red. Then there was a flash of something bright, a sword, and Lan Keji was crumpling to the ground.

Lan Wangji screamed and nearly fell with him. He braced himself at the last minute, standing splay-legged as the rest of the Wens rushed in.

He shook his head and lowered his horn, knowing that it was an empty threat. It wasn’t sharp, nor would he be able to stand the blood. As it was, he was shaking badly from the smell of the blood coming from Lan Keji.

He snorted, trying to gather himself to focus, but the Wens kept moving, so he had to keep swinging his head to follow them. It meant that he was stumbling around as he tried to keep his balance, but he could at least keep all the Wens in his line of sight and away from the riboku.

“Ah, so there is one valiant defender.” The sound of the voice made him raise his head, that enough to have one foreleg starting to buckle. Lan Wangji locked his knee to keep it from happening, turning his head to try and focus on the person who spoke.

It didn’t take long to pick him out of the red blurs, he was standing on the walkway, the rest of the Wens clearing the way for him. Lan Wangji saw the gleam of a sword as the man approached.

He lifted his head, ignoring the way that every part of him seemed to be shaking. Another wave of that horrible something rushed through him, his skin shivering like he could toss it off, but it kept breaking over him.

Lan Wangji stepped back until he could feel his back legs against the riboku tree. It was hardly a better position, but at least it was keeping him upright. It was easier to look defiant when he didn’t have to hold most of his weight. Lan Wangji still pinned his ears for good measure.

That seemed to amuse the Wen more than anything, because he laughed and stepped into the courtyard. “It would be easier if you just moved.”

“You will not touch the tree.”

“And you’ll stop me?” The Wen stepped close enough for Lan Wangji to see his face out of the swirling mess that was the rest of his vision. It took him a moment to place the face, Lan Wangji lifting his head a bit higher.

Wen Xu didn’t seem to notice or care. He walked closer, hovering just out of range as he started to circle the tree. Lan Wangji lunged forward when Wen Xu reached for one of the ranka, the motion turning into a stumble. Wen Xu laughed, taking a step back to get out of range again before reaching up at patting the nearest fruit.

Lan Wangji felt rage rise up the back of his throat, but he held it back. “Get back.”

Wen Xu hummed, giving the ranka one last pat before finally stepping away. Lan Wangji was quick to rush over to the ranka, nosing it to be sure that it was alright even as he cocked his ear. He could hear Wen Xu laughing, which made him want to bare his teeth and lunge, but it was more important to stay close to the tree.

“Lan Wangji, this is a cleansing.” The words made his blood run cold, Lan Wangji turning his head as Wen Xu paced in front of him. The man just smiled and reached up like he would touch another ranka. Wen Xu pulled his hand back at the last minute, his fingers lingering just beneath the fruit. “They have done nothing wrong, although I am surprised that the Emperor of the Heavens would allow this of the Lans. Especially you, if what I have heard of your parents are true.”

Lan Wangji bared his teeth then, belatedly remembering himself. But Wen Xu had already seen it. The man smiled and walked away from the tree, passing close to Lan Wangji.

“Our lesson is not for them, because they will be properly educated and taken care of, because the Lans will remember this.”

Lan Wangji glanced back to the wavering flames. It would be hard to forget when the Cloud Recesses were practically burnt to the ground and so many members of the sect had been killed. There was an uneasy curl in his stomach that came with the thought, because Lan Wangji was sure that he knew the exact number.

“Guard the tree!” Wen Xu gestured to his men, Lan Wangji watching warily as the Wen cultivators started forming a cordon around the riboku. His attention was briefly grabbed by the sight of Lan Keji stirring on the ground, his cousin reaching weakly for his sword before slumping again.

Lan Wangji swayed in his direction before stopping. It would endanger his cousin more if he tried to help him now. For whatever reason, Wen Xu was feeling magnanimous, which worried him.

Wen Xu watched the arrangement of his soldiers before nodding. “Send someone to tell the Lans that we are holding their riboku. Any more resistance and we burn the tree.”

Lan Wangji lunged forward at the order, his horn catching on Wen Xu’s sleeve as the man moved. He thought he heard Wen Xu laugh, but he was too busy tossing his head to rid his horn of it. The scrap of silk slid over one eye, Lan Wangji shaking his head hard to get it to flutter away.

He turned, already stumbling into a charge before he had pinpointed Wen Xu. It wasn’t hard to adjust, the man was standing still, his sword sheathed.

Lan Wangji didn’t bother to slow, ready to shoulder Wen Xu to the ground and trample him as soon as he was down. But Wen Xu was faster.

He swept his sword out, fouling Lan Wangji’s forelegs and sending him tumbling to the ground.

Lan Wangji swallowed back a squeal of surprise, focusing on trying to get his hooves back under him. He pushed his forelegs up, shifting his weight back to pull his hindlegs under him when Wen Xu stepped close. Lan Wangji twisted his head around to snap at him, but Wen Xu was out of range and already swinging his sheathed sword.

The scabbard made contact with his hindleg with all the force a cultivator could muster behind it. Lan Wangji heard his cannon bone snap a bare moment before the pain kicked in.

He went down with a scream, kicking out wildly. Each kick pain the pain in his leg worse, like the bone was breaking through his skin. Lan Wangji lifted his head to see the damage, his relief at seeing no shine of white bone was cut short by the sight and scent of blood.

The world spun around him, Lan Wangji slumping to the ground as he tried to breathe. Each breath was filled with ash and blood, which made him shudder. He was very aware of the wound that Lan Keji had as well as his own leg oozing blood, The Wen cultivators were covered in it too, a heady mix that kept him on his side and shaking even as Wen Xu leaned over him.

The man tutted, reaching out to pet his neck. Lan Wangji pinned his ears and tried to move away, but Wen Xu reached out to grab the forehead ribbon that was still tangled in his mane. He gave it a tug, the sight of the ribbon in someone else’s hands more than the tug enough to get Lan Wangji to go still.

He trembled as he looked up at Wen Xu, the need to run waring with the need to snap and kick as Wen Xu pulled the ribbon tight as he leaned in.

“It’s clear that some Lans might need more reeducation than others. This sort of behavior will not be allowed. Kirin kneel before their betters.”

Lan Wangji bared his teeth, jerking in surprise when the reaction was immediately followed by Wen Xu bringing the scabbard down across his side. It wasn’t hard enough to break bone, but the shock of it made him jolt.

Somewhere between the pain and surprise, Wen Xu pulled the ribbon out of his mane. Lan Wangji stared in horror as the man played with it for a moment before bending over to loop the ribbon around his muzzle. Wen Xu gave the ribbon a tug, seeming to find it suitable because he stood up and turned away. “You, find the stables and get the bridle. We’re taking the kirin for indoctrination.”

Lan Wangji heard the soldier run off, the clatter of his boots soon lost in the haze of blood and ash that took over all of his senses.

---

“Kneel!”

Lan Wangji braced himself as best as he could, leaning more heavily to the left as he practically sat back on his haunches. His right hindleg was a constant throb of pain, which meant that he could ignore it. He’d had the long trip to Qishan to get used to it, and used to how to handle it.

He could heal in increments, never enough to fully heal the break, that would mean being allowed to rest, but enough to walk on it. By the end of the day, it was back to being too painful to stand on. But, by then, he was allowed the mercy of rest.

A jerk on the rope brought his attention back to the Wen standing in front of him. The man looked nervous and ready to run. Lan Wangji was sure that if he lunged or looked threatening enough then the man would break, but then he would be stuck with however Wen Chao found to hold the rope, and he might not get as lucky the next time. The man holding Jin Zixun’s rope seemed to delight in tugging hard, so the Jin kirin’s mouth was a mess of blood-flecked foam.

Lan Wangji glanced to the side, not expecting Jin Zixun to respond. The golden kirin’s eyes were white-walled, but his gaze was distance as he practically sat down to resist the pull of the rope. Jin Zixun didn’t flinch or look away when Wang Lingjiao came over to stroke her hand over his muzzle, the woman careful to avoid the bloody foam.

Wen Chao was quick to scramble after his mistress, sliding his arm around her waist. “Do you want this one?”

Wang Lingjiao giggled, leaning her head back on his shoulder. “He looks like spun gold.”

“Yes, like an actual qilin instead of a horse with a stick in their forehead.” Wen Chao looked happy about his comparison. “I think he would suit you well.”

“What about the others?”

Lan Wangji struggled to keep his ears from pricking or showing any signs of interest. He hadn’t been told what would happen to him, none of them had. The three of them had just trickled in as the rest of the requested sect disciples had come in. As soon as all of them were there, the torture had started.

Although, from the tone of things Lan Wangji could guess at the rest. The Wen sect’s riboku hadn’t produced a kirin’s ranka in generations, and they had gathered all three of the kirin in the Nightless City. It didn’t take a leap of logic to see what they were trying to do.

He worked his jaw subtly, regretting it a moment later when the spikes on the bit dug into his mouth and tongue. His nostrils flared at the scent and taste of blood, that little just enough to make him wobble. Lan Wangji felt the pressure on the rope give a bit, the man allowing him the chance to kneel. But that was impossible for many reasons. Lan Wangji tried to ignore the flash of memory that brought him Wei Wuxian’s smile. This was not a place for something like that, even if it did give him the strength to brace himself a little better.

The man at the end of the rope didn’t notice, the rope hanging slack between them. It was a relief that he didn’t have to fight as much, but that was bound to change.

He flicked his gaze over to where Wen Chao and Wang Lingjiao were still admiring Jin Zixun, seemingly blind to the splotches of darker color that were appearing on his coat as he sweated. Wen Chao was just grinning at the kirin. “One is for my father, the other is for my brother.”

“And you don’t get one?”

Wen Chao laughed. “Ah, Jiaojiao, you’ll have one.”

“But-”

“Besides, I’ve heard that the qilin on Mount Hou is nearly full grown and will be looking for candidates. What candidate could be better than the son of the chief cultivator?”

Wang Lingjiao made a sound of agreement that made Lan Wangji pin his ears. It was a ridiculous plan, one that wouldn’t work, but he didn’t think that voicing that would make any difference. A qilin, even one just grown to maturity, would be able to see that Wen Chao was not the right choice.

Then again, there had been that one qilin who had chosen a demon as his king, so maybe Wen Chao had a chance. Or at least a few years before the will of heaven struck him down, but that would be enough.

One evening had been enough to destroy his home.

Lan Wangji tensed, tempted to take a step back. The rope was slack and there was every chance that he could run, although to where he didn’t know. He would be caught before he got back to the Cloud Recesses, and he would be leaving the rest of the Lan disciples in the hands of the Wens. If he did that, he might as well leave them to die.

He shivered, although his attention was quickly distracted by a scream from his left.

The sound made him go still, Lan Wangji feeling ever muscle tense like he was getting ready to run, but the bite of the bit held him in place.

He could only watch as Nie Huaisang toppled to the ground. The man holding his rope kept it taught so Nie Huaisang’s head was held up long after the rest of him fell.

For a moment, Lan Wangji was sure that the other kirin was dead. Nie Huaisang was too still, his coat had gone from mousey grey to black with his sweat, and the foam around his muzzle had gone completely red. It looked to be too much for a kirin. But then his side rose shakily before he exhaled, the man finally allowing the rope to go slack enough so his head dropped all the way down.

Lan Wangji fought the urge to sidle away from the scent of blood, because there was no escape from it. He couldn’t stop his skin from shivering. It just made everything worse, because he could feel the places where it caught and was wet with sweat. Some of it was old, from when he had first been taken, but there would be more come the end of the day, because he was not about to kneel, not when none of them had proven themselves.

Wen Chao stormed past, Lan Wangji half expecting him to stop and stare at him, but the man was intent on Nie Huaisang. Wen Chao stared down at the kirin before aiming a kick that went wide. He stumbled after the kick, obviously fuming for a moment before gesturing towards some of the cultivators standing by. “You! Drag him back to the stables! Don’t bother doing anything, just leave him!”

The cultivators rushed to follow his commands, already muttering to themselves about how best to haul a kirin back. One even dared to voice the question about the most respectful way, which had Wen Chao rounding on him.

“Don’t bother! They’re not divine creatures! They’re just prayers that got lucky! Now move him!”

The cultivators bowed their heads and got to work. Lan Wangji would have watched, but Wen Chao strode past, pausing just long enough to reach up and yank on the rope.

His eyes went wide as the spikes dug into his tongue, Lan Wangji stumbling a few steps forward before he stopped himself. He didn’t even come close to falling on his knees, but Wen Chao grinned like he had.

“There, hold him tight. We want him to be seriously thinking about his choices and where his loyalty lies.”

Lan Wangji tipped his muzzle up a fraction, but he didn’t dare to speak because of the bit. His loyalty was only owed to his sect, and the one he chose as his companion.

He only owed it to Wei Wuxian.

Lan Wangji swallowed hard as the thought lingered. It was not an easy one to chase away, not with the demands on him. None of the Wens shone with the same sun despite their sigil.

For a moment, he was tempted to lean into the pressure, just for punishment for his own wandering thoughts. But there was no point when the man holding the rope was taking up the slack and trying to haul him forward.

Lan Wangji took a deep breath, setting his hooves firmly into the ground to continue resisting the pressure.

---

Wei Wuxian placed a hand on the door, giving the sparse room that he and the other disciples from the Jiang sect had been given a quick look.

Everyone was asleep, exhausted from the day of doing whatever chore that Wen Chao had come up with. There had been a brief reprieve for a few hours when Wen Chao had disappeared on some important errand on his own, but that had only served to make Wei Wuxian more suspicious.

All of the sect heirs had been called to the Nightless City, but Nie Huaisang and Lan Wangji were missing. If it had just been the two of them, Wei Wuxian would have assumed that they had escaped the Wen net, but Jin Zixun was absent too. Two missing kirin was strange, but three posed new questions, and ones that he wanted solved. Jiang Cheng had made it perfectly clear that it wasn’t his business, which just meant that it was his problem.

He eased the door open, feeling it rattle under his hand. Wei Wuxian ducked his head out to check the space in front of the dorm that they had been allowed. Considering the state of it, any Wens on guard duty would easily mistake any creaks for the buildings shifting themselves. Wei Wuxian patted the doorframe, noticing how it bent inward slightly with the light pressure. He huffed, keeping his voice low. “When were these built? When Wen Mao was sect leader?”

There was no answer, especially from behind him, which was good. Wei Wuxian shot one last glance over his shoulder before stepping out of the door and manhandling it back into place. It made far more noise going back into place, but maybe exhaustion kept the others in bed. He frowned back at the door before turning on his heel and striding away.

The dorm was a roof over their heads, and one that didn’t look like it would leak. And, despite where they were, it was safe. The Wens seemed more inclined to stick to the edges of where they were than bother the disciples. Wei Wuxina was glad of that, because it meant that he could sneak away.

“Now, if I were Wen Chao, where would I hide the kirin?”

“You give him too much credit.”

Wei Wuxian jumped at the voice, spinning around even as he reached for where Suibian should be, but wasn’t anymore. His fingers flexed over his empty side, still seeking the sword as he stared at the three cultivators that were coming around the side of the dorm. He narrowed his eyes as he saw the gold of the Jin robes, groaning when he saw Jin Zixuan.

Of all the people he could have run into, only Wen Chao would have been less welcome.

He gaze flicked to the Nie and Lan cultivators that were following Jin Zixuan, surprised to see the two of them together. It seemed like the sects would have stuck to themselves, like Jiang Cheng was urging him to do. And yet, here they were, even the Lan who looked too pale to be upright. Wei Wuxian looked at the way that he clutched his arm gingerly and close to his body. He was surprised that the Lan had made it through the day with that arm considering all the mindless chores that had been set to them. Or maybe the others had looked after him. It made sense.

Wei Wuxian turned his attention back to Jin Zixuan. “Why are you out here?”

Jin Zixuan tipped his chin up slightly. “Jin Zixun is my cousin and I haven’t seen him. The others are worried as well. My question is, why is someone from the Jiang sect looking for the kirin?”

“I can’t look for a friend?” He shot a look at the Nie cultivator.

The woman wavered for a moment before nodding. “Nie Hauisang was always around him and Jiang Wanyin.”

“So Nie-xiong is here.”

The woman gritted her teeth and nodded. “He arrived with us and then was separated. We thought that it was something to do with sect heirs until…” She trailed off, tipping her head towards where Jin Zixuan was standing.

If Jin Zixuan nodded. “It was the same with Jin Zixun.”

“Lan Wangji too.”

“He’s here!” Wei Wuxian remembered at the last moment to keep his voice down, his heart pounding. He had heard rumors drifting through the others that the Cloud Recesses had been attacked. He had imagined that the Lans had sent their kirin away instead of subjecting him to battle. That wouldn’t stop him from feeling the deaths, but it would keep him away from the blood. “Where did they catch him?”

“He didn’t run.” The Lan cultivator spoke slowly, his gaze never lifting from the ground.

Wei Wuxian didn’t know what that sent a cold spike of fear through him, but he at least knew why it annoyed him. He huffed and turned on his heel. “How like Lan Zhan.”

He thought he heard the Lan cultivator make some kind of noise of protest, but he ignored it, focused on scanning the cluster of ramshackle houses. “Well, they wouldn’t be too close to here, or else we could talk. So where is the last place we would look for a kirin? The last, simple place?”

Jin Zixuan looked thoughtful for a moment before turning to gesture at where the Nie cultivators were housed. “I saw a stable over there when we were coming in. It’s close enough to the rest of us so they aren’t honored guests, but far enough that we can’t communicate easily.”

Wei Wuxian turned in the direction Jin Zixuan gestured, grinning to himself. It must be just outside the group of dorms they were in, which meant sneaking past the Wens. He was more than willing to offer them a little bit of the same humiliation that they had been dealing out. They may have to be more subtle than he liked, but there would be plenty to do to make them uneasy. If they did that, then it was unlikely that it would be traced back to them, just unlucky guards.

He took a step forward, grunting in annoyance as he felt a hand drop onto his shoulder. Wei Wuxian twisted around, frowning at the Nie disciple. She didn’t look too pleased herself. She jerked her hand back, shaking her head. “Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m not. You want to know where the kirin are, so let’s find them.”

“Quietly.” She stressed the word hard, glaring at him before turning on her heel and striding away. The Lan trailed after her, Wei Wuxian watching as he kept adjusting the position of his shoulder.

He eyed the Lan’s white robes before looking over at Jin Zixuan, giving into the way the man’s presence set him on edge. “The two of you are going to stand out.”

“I’m not going to get caught.” Jin Zixuan brushed him aside easily, Wei Wuxian sticking his tongue out at the man’s retreating back.

It was not what he wanted to do, but getting into a brawl wouldn’t help any of them, and he’d had enough of Jiang Cheng’s pointed reminders to keep out of trouble. If there was anyone who knew when to get in and out of trouble, it was him.

Wei Wuxian glared at Jin Zixuan’s back before taking off after him at a jog. It helped a little that Jin Zixuan sidestepped away from him, but it made him want to chase after him and try to get another punch in, but the white of the Lan’s robe kept catching his attention.

He gritted his teeth, tucking that urge away. There were many ways that Jin Zixuan could be humiliated to pay back every bit that he paid to his shijie while the Wen put them to stupid tasks. Right now, the kirin were priority.

Wei Wuxian sped up to try and catch up with the others, content to leave Jin Zixuan on his own, but the man seemed perfectly happy to keep up. At least they would have some kind of distraction if they ran into guards, because Wei Wuxian was sure that Jin Zixuan wouldn’t be moved again. He had lost his sword and temporarily misplaced the Jin kirin, anything more just might break him, which might be interesting to watch.

He rubbed at his nose to hide his smile, keeping an eye out for the Wen guards.

Much to his surprise, there were none. Their way was clear to the edge of the buildings.

Wei Wuxian pressed himself back in the shadows beside the Lan, watching as the man tried his best to blend in, all the while looking apologetic. Wei Wuxian huffed and turned his attention to the open space.

There was a dirt path that led up towards what he assumed was the edge of the Nightless City. About halfway down he could see guards moving by distant fire and torchlight.

He huffed to cover up a laugh, shaking his head. Everything about this was badly organized, or just overconfidence. There was every chance that they could sneak out, if they were quiet enough. The urge to attempt was strong, just to say he could do it. Wei Wuxian quickly curbed the thought. He had been warned many times over to behave himself and step carefully. It wasn’t just him that he was putting on the line this time, it was the disciples with him and Lotus Pier. After all, the Wens had burned down the Cloud Recesses for less.

Wei Wuxian reached out for the person nearest to him, abruptly changing his mind when he was faced with the Lan’s injured shoulder. Instead, he rocked to the side and bumped into Jin Zixuan, pleased when the man looked disgusted. Wei Wuxian just tipped his head in the direction of the guards “It’s easy tonight.”

“But for how long?” The Nie cultivator looked back at them, raising her eyebrow. “Where’s that stable?”

Jin Zixuan stepped out from around them, gesturing for them to follow. It would have been easier if he had told them, just in case the Wens remembered themselves. Instead he could only grumble under his breath as Jin Zixuan led them at a brisk jog into the darkness.

The ground in Qishan wasn’t even, Wei Wuxian finding himself hopping awkwardly in places to get around rocks, sometimes nearly tripping as he tried to avoid the worst of it. The others were no better. The Lan had to lunge forward to grab onto Jin Zixuan before he fell onto his face. Jin Zixuan was quick to jerk himself free, brushing off his robe like something had gotten onto it. Then he nodded off to one side. “Down there.”

“How far?”

“I didn’t see.” Jin Zixuan snapped. “That’s just where they led him.”

The Nie cultivator gave the distant guards one last glance before shrugging. “It’s better than nothing. They wouldn’t put their horses too far, not if they wanted to control us efficiently.”

“Are they?”

The woman huffed. “Nothing about this is efficient.”

Wei Wuxian found that he agreed with her. Madam Yu had kept Lotus Pier running in good order, but this would have infuriated her. The guards were too far away to be useful, and it was too easy to get this far.

He shrugged and jogged after her. It didn’t matter for now, because it was a way out if they needed it.

They didn’t follow a clear path, more of a trail through jagged rocks. Wei Wuxian was sure that he would have missed the stables in the dark, because he was expecting a proper building, not something that looked like it had been rescued from falling apart. Some repairs must have been done, just enough to make it so anything in there wouldn’t escape easily.

As they got closer, Wei Wuxian could hear the shuffling of something moving and faint muttering. He tipped his head to the side, trying to place the voice when he was shoved aside by Jin Zixuan.

He bit back a shout, but he still reached out like he would grab him. Jin Zixuan was out of reach, already opening the door.

The door didn’t open as such, it slouched outward, nearly falling on Jin Zixuan before he managed to catch it and jam it back into some sort of place. It rattled slightly on its track, Wei Wuxian looking back over his shoulder. It didn’t matter that the guards were too far away. Now that they had found something, he didn’t want to be stopped.

Jin Zixuan shoved at the door a few more times, just managing to get it where it wasn’t in danger of falling out before he slipped in. There was a flicker of light as he lit up a talisman, and then the muttering stopped, quickly turning into a near shout.

“No. No, no, no. NO!”

“Quiet!” The Nie girl rushed in, Wei Wuxian rushing after her. He went still as soon was he was out of the doorway, squinting as the Lan came in after him and activated his own talisman. It wasn’t much light, but it was enough.

The barn wasn’t too much better on the inside than the outside. There were stalls falling apart and entire walls that sagged. But those only held his attention for a moment. The light from the talismans played over something golden moving in one of the fixed stalls. Jin Zixuan blocked most of his view, but that he was frantically trying to work the door at the front of the stall told Wei Wuxian all he needed. They had found the kirin.

He left Jin Zixuan to his cousin, Jin Zixun’s protests rising again before Jin Zixuan started to hush him. Whatever conversation was going on between the two of them Wei Wuxian didn’t want to know.

He moved over to the next stall over, having to peer in to see what was in it. Wei Wuxian started at the bulky shadow before he realized what he was looking at. “Fuck.”

The hiss was more than enough to bring the other two rushing over. The Nie cultivator took one look at the kirin lying in the straw before she was vaulting over the door, not bothering to try and yank it open.  She dropped down beside the kirin, checking him over and muttering to herself.

Wei Wuxian watched her work, only startled out of his staring when the Lan shoved the light talisman to him. The light flickered a bit before Wei Wuxian started nudging spiritual energy into it, then the flared back to life. The Lan gave him a nod and bustled off back outside, pausing only long enough to snatch a bucket from where it had been thrown. Wei Wuxian could see why now that there was more light.

Nie Huaisang was covered in dried sweat and a bloody foam. Every once and a while he saw the kirin twitch, the only sign that he was alive. Wei Wuxian looked back towards where he could hear Jin Zixuan and Jin Zixun talking. If Nie Huaisang was like this, then the Jin kirin was bound to be in a similar state. As would Lan Zhan.

He turned away, barely hearing the Nie cultivator curse as the light went away. He saw light flare in the stall out of the corner of his eye, but he was intent in checking the rest of the barn. If the other two were here, then it would make sense that Lan Wangji would be with them.

The next two stalls were empty wrecks, but the second to last one had a newer wall.

Wei Wuxian walked over to the door, leaning in.

At first, he didn’t see Lan Wangji, it was only when he lifted the talisman that he saw the kirin tied to the back wall.  The kirin blinked in the light as he turned, Wei Wuxian feeling rage roll through him at the sight of the bridle on Lan Wangji’s head.

Kirin were not horses, nor were they beasts of burden. They were cousins to the divine qilin, given to the sects to guide them. Wei Wuxian had seen the hopes of every person to came to the Lotus Pier riboku in the hopes that one of the ranka was a kirin’s. They had been disappointed, but the prayers remained, as did the awe.

This was sacrilege.

He shoved his shoulder into the door, feeling it give a bit too much, but Wei Wuxian ignored it. He left it hanging open as he strode over to pull the reins free of the board that they had been tied to. He reached for the bridle, only for Lan Wangji to step back and shake his head.

The kirin worked his mouth, Wei Wuxian sucking in a quick breath when he heard a bit clank. That was another unimaginable thing, which meant that he had to adjust his thinking quickly, and be relieved that the Jiang sect kirin had passed while Uncle Jiang was young. They wouldn’t have had to deal with humiliation and disrespect like this.

He flexed the fingers of his free hand. “I can take it off.”

Lan Wangji stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. The metal pieces rattled; Lan Wangji quick to still. Wei Wuxian saw his ears twitch, struck by how strange that was before he focused again on the important part.

He took a step forward, relieved when Lan Wangji didn’t keep retreating. It was only when he reached his hand out that Lan Wangji backed away some more.

Wei Wuxian huffed, dropping his hand. “But we’re so close.”

It was a bit of a relief that Lan Wangji gave him one of his normal blank looks before turning away. He limped across the stall, Wei Wuxian wincing at the sight of it. He was used to Lan Wangji’s stately walk, like the next step wouldn’t actually hit the ground and he would just keep going. This was too grounded, too mortal. Wei Wuxian could almost believe that he was just a horse that had cultivated to a high level, just like some of the stories had said that kirin had come from. Or maybe it was the reincarnated soul of a king, come back to find his true love like the Lans told it.

Whatever it was, it was wrong to see Lan Wangji looking so ordinary.

He stepped forward, watching Lan Wangji’s legs. It was hard to tell much with the black fur covering his legs, Wei Wuxian could only pick out which leg it was. He was tempted to reach down and touch, to see the extent of the injury, but a normal horse wouldn’t allow it. Beyond that, Lan Wangji wouldn’t allow that.

Wei Wuxian groaned and leaned against the wall, looking back in the direction of the others. He thought he heard one of them mutter, but then there was the sound of footsteps. Wei Wuxian sidled down the wall to peer over the door, nodding at the Lan as he saw the man hauling in a bucket full of water. “Good, we can wipe them down.”

“And have someone notice?”

Wei Wuxian leaned out further with a frown, even though he knew that he wouldn’t see the Nie cultivator. “You want to leave them like this?”

“No.” Her voice was soft, but then it came back with the same strength as before. “But we can’t get rid of all of it. Then they’ll set a better guard.”

That didn’t sound any better. Wei Wuxian heaved himself slightly over the door, It didn’t help him see the Nie cultivator, but the Lan one was sliding the bucket into the stall with Jin Zixuan before he was searching for another bucket. Wei Wuxian was tempted to help him, but he had barely gotten over the door proper before he felt something grab at his collar. The hold wasn’t for long, but the jingle that he heard was enough.

“Wei Ying.”

His name didn’t sound right in Lan Wangji’s mouth, clunky and cut off in all the wrong ways. It still got him to turn, watching as Lan Wangji dropped his head again. He stared at the kirin, taking in the sweat that was still crusting on him, and the way that Lan Wangji shook, probably from the effort of being upright on a bad leg. Wei Wuxian shifted towards it, stopping when Lan Wangji took another step back.

He stared at the kirin before running his hands through his hair, messing it up. “Fine. Fine. We’ll do it your way.”

He couldn’t tell if Lan Wangji was happier about it, his head just dropped. Wei Wuxian wiped his hands against his robes, fighting the urge to just pull the bridle off. That would probably deemed equally as obvious. But he could do something about the dried blood around Lan Wangji’s mouth. His leg might have to be left to the Lan, because it might be allowed. He would just press the Lan about it later, just to be sure of what had happened. And it would give a better picture to present to Jiang Cheng. Wei Wuxian knew that the other disciples would be as furious as he was, but it might make Jiang Cheng cling all the harder to them remaining far away from the other sects.

The Jiang sect didn’t have a kirin. Yet. There were plenty of ranka on the riboku and plenty of time.

Wei Wuxian grunted as he hopped over the door, hearing Lan Wangji make a soft noise of disapproval, but he ignored it. The Lan was struggling in with another bucket of water, and Wei Wuxian was sure that they didn’t have all night to get the kirin almost comfortable. He shot one last look over his shoulder at where Lan Wangji was drooping again before striding towards where the Lan was struggling with another bucket.

---

Gentle hands touched his head, making him jerk it back. Lan Wangji thought he heard someone shush him, making the inconsequential sounds that all humans made to animals. It was an insult, because he was not just another animal. He was a kirin. To be treated this way was not to be borne.

Some small part of his mind, one part not dazed by the scent of resentment and blood, whispered that there was no need to show such affront. He had already sunk so low as to be wearing a bridle in the first place.

Lan Wangji shook his head, the jingle of the buckles on the bridle making his skin shiver. It was not something that he would ever choose to wear, and it was against the rules. It was excess adornment, and it made too much noise.

A touch to the cheekpiece of the bridle made him jerk his head up, all thoughts of remaining silent disappearing when the spiked bit jammed into his mouth, breaking open old wounds and tearing them wider. The taste of blood arrested him, making him tremble in place.

It was too much. The Xuanwu had killed, and he could still smell the blood of the Wens that it had dragged under. Then there were the injuries that had happened in the fight between the Wen cultivators and those they held captive. Then there was his own broken leg. The whole leg sat wrong, and was bleeding from where the Xuanwu had bit him. Worse still was the human with him, who smelled of blood and burning flesh. It made him want to run.

Lan Wangji scrambled to get to his feet, needing to get away from the blood and resentful energy that was threatening to choke him, but his leg wouldn’t hold his weight. Still, away on three legs was better than remaining.

He struggled up again, screaming in defiance when he felt a weight settling on his shoulders. The human was straddling him, an insult that could not be borne.

Lan Wangji threw his head back, trying to shake them off or scratch them with his horn. Most humans would avoid it, because he was a sacred animal, even from the lower tiers. What he didn’t expect was the human to grab his forelock in one hand and the base of his jaw in the other, holding his head immobile.

He shorted and tried to move, bumping his neck against the human’s knees. The human clamped down there, a tug on his forelock making him go still as much as the low growl that the human gave.

“Lan Zhan, stay still.”

He followed the order, trembling as the human let go of his forelock. Lan Wangji could feel the human messing around with the bridle. There was a jingle and some of the tension in the bridle released.

He tried to jerk forward as he felt the bridle slip over his ears, stopped just as much by it knocking against his horn as by the human throwing his weight on his neck.

The human seemed happy to remain there, shifting the bridle this way and that before reaching further down to tear at the buckles.

He shook as the leather fell around his face, brushing against his eyes before falling away to land on the floor. It should have been enough to make the bridle fall away completely, but the human must have been keeping the tension up. He could feel the different pieces press against the side of his face as the human scurried around to his front.

The urge to run came back as the human slid from his neck, but he didn’t move.

The human seemed to take that as permission, playing with his mouth and lifting his lips. Lan Wangji snorted, about to pull his head away when the human jammed his thumbs into the corners of his mouth, pressing back even as they slid over his wolf teeth. He was tempted to close down against the indignity, but the steady pressure left his mouth open, his jaw moving as he struggled against it to close.

“Keep your mouth open, I need to see what I’m doing.”

He snorted, in response, earning another push for his pains.

“It’s in deep in places, I can’t just rip it out. So, stay open, and don’t bite my hand off.”

Lan Wangji barely processed the words before the pressure on his left side disappeared. Then he felt fingers moving in his mouth, and he had to fight not to bite down. He had tried before, after he was taken to the Nightless City, but he had gotten struck for it. The shock of it had been enough to hold him still, but he wished that he would have tried again because he could have prevented them putting the bit in place.

He flicked as he felt one of the spikes work loose, the human working quickly as he wiggled the bit free. Inch by inch the tension in the bridle slid free, the bit dropping down until it was resting against his front teeth. It tapped against them a few times before the human finally eased it free.

Lan Wangji snapped his mouth shut as soon as the bit and fingers were out of his mouth, working his jaw from side to side before opening and shutting his mouth. He could feel the bright shocks of pain from where the spikes had duck into his mouth, but he could move freely again, without restriction. Lan Wangji tossed his head a few times, just to be sure of his range of motion before letting his chin drop to his chest.

He took deep, shaking breaths, some of the horror leaving. The bit and the bridle were gone, but that was a small improvement on the situation. There was still so much blood and resentment that it was hard to think.

Lan Wangji shuffled his legs under him, still deciding if he should try to get up and run when something landed over his withers. He turned his head to look, having to blink a few times to come back to himself enough to realize what it was.

A black outer robe had been thrown across him. He caught the scent of burning fabric and flesh from it, which made him want to pin his ears and throw it away. But it was warm and comforting where everything else had been misery. Lan Wangji nudged the robe gently, almost tempted to tug it into place when he heard movement.

He pricked his ears, staring into the semi-darkness at someone crouched over a bunch of thin sticks. “Wei Ying?”

Wei Wuxian paused, looking back at him with a smile that seemed a bit forced. “Go ahead and borrow it. It may be a bit short but it’ll cover the important parts. It will be easier to work on your leg if you’re human. I know how those are supposed to look at least.”

He stared at Wei Wuxian for a moment more, earning an impatient flap of Wei Wuxian’s hand. “I won’t look, I promise. Unless you want me to.”

“Shameless.” The word felt strange in his mouth, less annunciated and more spilled out.

Wei Wuxian didn’t seem to notice. He just laughed and bent over the sticks again. “Ok, ok. Working on the fire. Won’t look, I promise.”

Lan Wangji watched Wei Wuxian a moment longer just in case, and tried to bat down the impatient part of him that wanted Wei Wuxian to watch.

---

Lan Wangji shivered in the cold of the cave. That was one of its many sins, but the scent of blood and resentment had been around him for so long that he barely noticed. He couldn’t remember what it felt like to not be a moment away from running as far and fast as he could, or having his head feel muddied with nausea. He had already thrown up what little the Wens had allowed them to eat, and there was nothing left. It was a waste of energy, although what he should be conserving it for, he didn’t know. They were trapped with a thin hope of getting out.

He pushed himself upright from where he had been slumping against the wall, looking over at where Wei Wuxian was slumped against the wall.

He licked his lips, his tongue feeling large and ungainly. Neither of them had drunk much, not with the Xuanwu and human bodies rotting in the pool. They might have to make a choice about that soon. Or he would have too, Wei Wuxian was too wracked by fever to be thinking.

Lan Wangji swayed where he was, glancing up towards the path that rescue would come down, if it came at all. He allowed himself an unknown matter of minutes to stare before shifting on his knees to face Wei Wuxian.

If help was coming, it was still inbound, and there was no knowing how long it would take for them to be reached. Or help would never come, and the two of them would be left.

Lan Wangji swallowed back the instinctual burst of fear. He had known what would happen if he stayed, but he hadn’t been able to turn away, despite all of his instincts telling him to run. This cave was no place for a kirin, but the thought of leaving was far worse. He would have given up too much if he had done that.

He shifted in place before coming to his decision. This was not something to be left unsaid, not even when it would come to nothing.

He reached out to touch Wei Wuxian’s leg, giving it a shake.

He had to shake Wei Wuxian again to get him to make a sound, the man lifting his head with a hoarse, “Lan Zhan?”

Lan Wangji only waited long enough to be sure that Wei Wuxian was watching before giving into the bright sunlight aura that had called to him and demanded this of him since he had seen Wei Wuxian on the wall of the Cloud Recesses.

He bowed deep, pressing his forehead against the damp of the cave floor. “I swear to never desert my place by your side.”

It was easier to breathe after getting the words out, but the silence that fell after brought its own horror.

Lan Wangji wanted to look up to see if Wei Wuxian was still awake, still alive, but he wasn’t sure that it would be allowed..

His breath rushed out of him when he felt a hand pat at his head. Lan Wangji wasn’t sure that it was the proper acceptance, but he moved under the motion and the words that his chosen spoke.

“Lan Zhan, get up here and off the floor. It’s dirty.”

He huffed, biting back the comment that the whole cave with filthy. It was not an argument worth having.

He heaved himself back to the wall, carefully ignoring the way his body shook with the effort. That was a worry for later, if there was one.

Lan Wangji sighed and settled back against the wall, going back to his watch as Wei Wuxian’s breathing evened out into sleep again.

---

Qilin – a noble and holy creature that chooses the ruler of the secular kingdoms, born from Mount Hou, generally more dragon-like than their kirin cousins possessing manes, beards and scales along their back. Very graceful and deer-like more than horse-like which cloven hooves and antlers rather than a single horn. Generally come in gold or black. Basically, more like the mythical qilin more than the Twelve Kingdoms version.

Kirin – a creature born from a ranka, often from the same tree that humans are born from, do not chose the rulers of kingdoms but instead herald the rise of a great person or sect, although they tend to be born into sects, they are less powerful than their qilin cousins and often rely on cultivation to expand their lifespan to continue to watch over their sect, generally born one per sect and, if there are two in a sect, the older one is bound to die within a few years, more horse-like and having one horn.

ranka – the egg-fruit that people are born from

Riboku – the three that humans, and domesticated animals are grown from, will rarely develop a kirin ranka if in the presence of cultivation

[thatbookishasiangirl]

Are We Still Dreaming?

“Elliot, wake up.” 

I am drifting somewhere in between the vast, ever-expanding space of the waking world and deep, unrelenting slumber when I feel your lips press against the back of my neck, drawing me gently out of my sleep. My eyelashes flutter lightly as a smile pulls across my lips, my nose wrinkles and I draw the sheets over my eyes, murmuring under my breath that I need ten more minutes. Just ten more minutes. Every tender, careful touch igniting sparks of little fires across my skin. Another kiss on my shoulder and  then the sharp, deliciously painful jolt that comes from a tiny nip of the teeth. I roll over and attempt to glare at you to convey my false annoyance, but I am aware that my expression is one of unabashed adoration. 

“What do you want, Connor?” I ask. 

You lean forward and press your lips to the tip of my nose. “It’s time to get to work,” you whisper. 

“You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?” I grumble, shoving half-heartedly at your chest. “Don’t you remember? The editor doesn’t need those revisions until next month. It’s May 2nd. I’ve got plenty of time.” 

“I remember that you put things off, and you put things off, and you continue to put them off until there’s one weekend left and you’re up all night panicking because you haven’t even started yet.” I roll my eyes. “And you put yourself through all this unnecessary stress when it could have been avoided by simply getting a head start.” 

I flop onto my back. The piss colored wallpaper above is peeling and flaking and the old ceiling fan rocks back and forth as it spins rapidly, threatening to come down on us both at any moment. Crushing us. Well, I think, to hell with it, if it happens it happens. I throw my arm over my eyes, knowing that you are right. Not wanting to admit it, this project is taking its toll. Everything happened so fast. On New Year’s Eve, completely and utterly shit faced, I stumbled down the street to the nearest mail bin and had shoved the thick manila envelope containing my thirty page novel proposal, addressed to my editor Lucy, and the very next morning I got an email from her declaring that this would be my most successful creation yet. 

“You always do this,” you say, not unkindly.

“I know,” I grouse. 

You wrap your fingers around my wrist and move it away from my face. You smile and brush a piece of stray hair off of my forehead. “You haven’t written something new since 2015. It’s been five years. The people are dying for your next bestseller.” 

I inhale sharply and reach for your hand, interlocking our fingers. “Will you make me something to eat?” I ask. 

“Avocado toast with crispy bacon?” you muse. 

“You know me so well,” I say, bringing your hand to my lips and kissing each knuckle in turn, before I lift my other hand and cup the side of your face bringing your mouth to mine. “Do you really want me to get to work?” I murmur against your lips. 

You laugh, your deep, beautiful laugh, reverberating through my whole body, sending chills down my spine. I could listen to your laugh forever. “Come off it,” you say, pushing my chest. 

“Connor…” I whine. 

“Elliot,” you say teasingly. 

You push back the sheets, exposing us both to the cold, and you swing your legs over the side of the bed. There is a soft thud as your feet land on the floor and you stand there in nothing but your questionably tight black underwear and you stretch your arms over your head. You look over your shoulder and grin, showing each and every one of your frustratingly perfect teeth. 

“What?” I say. 

“Nothing,” you reply, shrugging with just one shoulder as you grab one of our pillows and throw it at me. I catch it in both hands. “It’s supposed to be nice out today,” you say. “Maybe you can work outside.” 

I’m rolling my eyes again but by then your back is to me and you are walking out the door. For a moment I just lay there on my back, listening to the clatter of pots and pans as you move through our kitchen. I know you are right. With a deep sigh, I get out of bed. I walk to our shared dresser. It’s small, coming up to the chest of my tall body and there are visible signs of wear, like the peeling wood on the legs, but it was cheap and we didn’t have that much clothing anyway. I shrug on a dark gray hoodie with my alma mater’s logo across the chest and a pair of old baggy sweatpants. 

You wolf whistle as I emerge from our bedroom. “Looking hot, babe,” you say. 

I flip you off. “Do you think Stephen King writes in a suit and tie?” I question. “I would bet you real, actual physical money that he doesn’t.” 

You turn towards me, smirking.  “Let’s call him up and ask,” you say. 

“Shut up,” I retort. “Don’t be a smartass” 

“What was that expression again? Dress for the job you want?” 

I raise an eyebrow. “The job I want is to be able to work from home dressed in whatever the fuck I want because no one is going to see me.” 

“Oh, but I see you. Don’t you want to impress me?” When I glare at you in response, you chuckle and raise both of your hands. Your head quirks to the side in the subconscious, curious way it does from time to time. “In all seriousness, and for the record because I know you keep a record in the back of that brilliant head of yours, you would look good in anything. Hell, you could pull off a potato sack.” 

“Shut up,” I say again. 

“What, it’s true? Am I supposed to lie to you?” You place a hand over your heart with mock offense. “Because lying goes directly against my code of honor and if you’re asking me to lie, then that might be a deal breaker.” 

“You’re full of shit,” I laugh. 

And there’s your smile again. “Get to work!” you exclaim. 

I press the side of my hand to my forehead and salute. “Yes, sir,” I say.

My laptop is resting where I left it last night, open and sitting on the couch in a sea of blankets, empty soda cans, and snack wrappers. It was the result of not hours of hard work, but procrastination fueled Netflix binging; a result of you not being there to force me to be productive. You had been out catching up with some old friends from college. I grab my laptop and my cell phone and walk out onto our balcony. We are lucky enough that our apartment has one. It’s small and there is barely enough room for the pair of fold out chairs we have, but it’s better than nothing. And hey, you’re right, it is nice out. The sky is blue and the air warm. 

I open my laptop and go to the document. I stare at the screen. The text cursor blinks mockingly at me through the glass. All that vast white page. The blank space. The blank space that I need to fill. I take a deep breath and press my fingers onto the keyboard. I’ve been writing, or attempting to write, for about twenty minutes when you step out onto the balcony. 

“Here you go,” you say, handing me my plate. 

“Thanks.” I put the plate down at my feet and take your face in my hands, kissing you with intention. 

You kiss back, but for not nearly long enough. “Work,” you say. “Eat and work. I know how you can get on an empty stomach. You can take a break in an hour.” 

I nod in agreement. “Thanks again,” I say. 

You walk back inside, leaving the sliding door open. I pick up a piece of bacon.  It’s burnt. You burnt the bacon. It’s never happened before. 

I take a bite and it crunches and crumbles in my mouth. Several arms lengths away there is another apartment complex and another shoebox balcony. Through the sliding glass door I see the elderly couple who have been living in Boston long before we moved in across the way. The woman is standing at the sink, hand washing dishes. Her motions are slow and careful. She stares determinedly down at her hands, as if the dishes and the water and suds are her lifeline. If she were to stop washing those dishes then everything would unspool; her fragile bones would collapse and her skin would cave in on itself. I watch as she lifts a vibrant green plate in her hands, moving it around clockwise as she scrubbs every inch of the round surface. 

The old woman’s hands shake and her long silver hair falls over her face as she bends her head further over the sink. Her shoulders rise and fall and I realize that she is crying. The plate slips from her hands, splashing in the water filled sink, sending suds everywhere. Her husband appears soon after, hugging her from behind and rubbing his hands up and down her arms, whispering something into her ear. She spins around and collapses into his arms. I can hear her sobs through the glass and it’s entirely too much. 

I place my computer on the floor and stand, stepping back into the apartment. You are rummaging through the cabinets and when I come back inside, you stand straight with our largest mixing bowl in your hands.

“How would you feel if I made some chocolate chip cookies?” you ask. 

“Breakfast and now cookies,” I say. “You’re on a roll.” 

You smile and shrug. “I watched some Chopped on my phone after you fell asleep. I’ve got the cooking bug.” 

I can’t help myself. “I’m surprised you could stay awake after last night. I was beat,” I say, smirking and crossing my arms over my chest. The porcelain pale skin of your cheeks turns bright red and I know my words have had the intended effect. “I would love cookies.” 

You duck your head for a moment, staring into the bowl, and god, you’re so cute when you’re embarrassed. “Great,” you say. “And you can have as many as you want.” You raise your head again. “But only after you’ve finished at least one chapter.”

I groan. “But the cookies will be cold by the time I’m done.” 

“And they’ll still be perfectly edible.” 

“Oh but, Connor,” I say and I walk closer to you until we are only a foot apart. “Don’t you know that the prime eating time for a chocolate chip cookie is exactly two minutes after they come out of the oven?” 

You snort, but you are still smiling at me and I can tell that you want to throw that bowl aside and kiss me. More than kiss me. But you’re a good boyfriend. You won’t distract me no matter how much your fingers twitch with the overwhelming desire to reach out and touch me. I know that this is how you are feeling because I am feeling the exact same way. Our emotions, our desires, our every whims have always fallen perfectly in sync. I swear sometimes, that I can read your mind. I anticipate your needs and you anticipate mine. Your breath stutters when you are about to sneeze and I pass you a tissue just in time. I wake up from a long nap with an empty stomach and you’ve already prepared soup for me. In the middle of the night, when you are restless, you won’t say it, but I know you want me to hold you tighter. To tangle our limbs into a knot that cannot be easily pulled apart. I know your body better than my own. Where to touch you and how, to strike stars across your vision. You don’t need to speak for me to be sure of what you want. 

I take the bowl from you and place it on the kitchen island. It is barely big enough to be called a kitchen island, though, but we make the best of it. When we eat at it, we have to stand so close that our shoulders brush which really isn’t something I am complaining about, but it certainly makes things like baking quite difficult. I cup your face in my hands and tilt my head up to kiss you. You’re not that much taller than me, but you’re tall enough that I have to make an effort; I am forced to stand on my toes and strain to reach your mouth. 

“You’re procrastinating again, sweetheart,” you mumble against my lips, but your hands are curled in the front of my sweatshirt. 

“You’re not complaining,” I point out. 

I watch as you bite down on your bottom lip, teasing the pretty pink flesh between your teeth and I feel my own face grow hot. The air is still between us. 

“You promised me,” you say, sounding quieter and smaller than you ever have before. I don’t like it. “We would treat today like a completely normal day.” 

You have never been much of a crier. You hate crying. It makes you feel weak. Even at times when it would be perfectly reasonable to cry, you still never cry. Not even when you came out to your  beloved parents, hand reaching for mine and clutching it nervously, and they both looked at you like you were lower than the scum in the New York City subway. But right now your eyes are watering and I can tell that you are trying to fight it and becoming frustrated that you are losing. 

“This is normal,” I say softly. 

You shake your head. “No. You’re never this…” you hesitate and I reach down and take your hand in mind, squeezing it reassuringly. “Loving.” And I can tell you regret it the moment you say it because your eyes go wide. “Shit. I didn’t mean it like that. I know you love me. I do. It’s just- I’m not complaining, I-” 

“No, I get it,” I say. “And I’m sorry about that. I guess I was thinking maybe I could make it up to you.” I take a deep breath. “Please don’t make me go back out there. I don’t want to spend our last day together with my face in front of a screen, going crazy over a book I will never finish.” 

“It really would have been a masterpiece,” you say, your voice wet with those yet unspilled tears. 

“You give me too much credit,” I say. 

“You don’t give yourself enough,” you counter. 

You touch my face, your thumb stroking my cheek. “Will you tell me about it?” you ask. “We can go for a walk, just down by the park in the Boston Commons, and you can tell me everything.” 

I swallow hard, and it feels like something is catching in my throat, making it difficult to breath, and for a brief moment I think I might expire early. “That sounds nice,” I say. 

“And then I can take you out to dinner,” you say. “I hear they’re having an end of the world special at the Capital Grille.” 

“Can we go dancing afterwards?” I ask. “It’s been so long since we’ve been dancing?”

You grin, even as a single drop of liquid salt escapes from one of your brilliant cerulean eyes and slides down your face. I reach my hand up on instinct and wipe it away before kissing your eyelid as it flutters closed. “I thought you hated dancing,” you say. 

“I am incapable of hating anything so long as I am doing it with you,” I tell him. 

You nod. “I’d like that.” You sniffle and repeat, “I’d like that.” 

“Hey?” I say, gripping the back of your neck and squeezing lightly. “Just another day?” 

You laugh and another tear falls. “Just another day,” you echo. 

[whumpiary]

continued from here, companion piece to this and this

-

All Josiah wants when he hears the knock at the door is Mal’s reassuring smile, an easy hug, the gentle squeeze of his arm that tells him everything is going to be fine. Besides the need for medical expertise, it’s the reason Josiah had called him. Apparently though, when Josiah had called, asked quietly and desperately for Mal’s help with a drugged-out friend, he’d forgotten the three magic words: don’t tell Lou.

He must have, because that’s more or less the only explanation for the 5 feet of leather-clad fury awaiting him when he answers the door.

Lou is easy and laid back most of the time. Quick to joke, quicker to laugh. But for nearly two years now, even the mention of Cass was enough to drain her of humour in a second. And now he’s here. And Josiah had been keeping it from her. Leather-clad fury was probably an understatement.

“Where is he?” 

She’s already trying to push through the door as she speaks. Josiah barely blocks her step with a foot.

“Hi Lou, I’m good, how are you?”

Mal meets his eyes over Lou’s shoulder, raises his finger with an apologetic salute.

“Back room?” he asks.

“My bedroom,” Josiah says, shifting barely enough to let the nurse slide past “Thanks, Mal.”

Mal gives Josiah’s shoulder a quick squeeze as he passes, and the comfort it floods him with is nearly embarrassing. He barely has time to block the doorway again as Lou makes another move to pass. 

“You’re not coming in.”

“Like hell I’m not,” she spits, teeth bared between purple lipstick “I’m gonna kill him.”

“I’m not doing this, Lou, I’m tired. You can come in, calm down, and have a cup of tea or you can leave.”

Lou looks like she might hit him, shifting from foot to foot like a boxer. She opens her mouth to say something, closes it again, before spinning around to let her rage out on a nearby pot-plant. 

“Kick my fern and die,” he warns. She stamps her foot down with a grunt, makes a sound like she’s considering screaming out the excess aggression but doesn’t want to worry the neighbours. Josiah waits.

Lou leans her back against the balcony railing and seems to swallow down a pintful of violence before screwing her eyes shut, running her hands over her shaved head and looking at the sky as she takes deep breaths. They’re so specific and measured, Josiah can count them out.

In for six, hold for four, out for six. In for six, hold for four, out for six.

And Josiah waits.

The wind curls around the house and eventually, Lou open her eyes again, fuse longer but clearly still smouldering. Her are arms crossed in a way that suggests they’d be strangling something if she didn’t have them so carefully folded.

“You better have chamomile.”

Josiah steps aside and Lou pushes past maybe a little too roughly but calmly enough. Josiah takes a deep breath before stepping after her, thanking anyone who’s listening that he’d had time to tidy up the living room before Lou could have that to get angry at as well. But by the time Josiah’s followed her, Lou has bypassed living room and headed straight into the upturned kitchen. Of course. 

She looks around pointedly before sitting herself at the stool by the bench, holding Josiah’s gaze as she does. “We can have the tea in here, right?”

He clenches his jaw. He knows what she’s doing. She’s waiting for him to tell her that the mess in here is making him uncomfortable and that she should move to the couch. To tell her that she’s sitting too close right now for him to turn his back to her. To tell her that he can’t handle this, that he should have called her sooner, that he’s about to go backwards. But he doesn’t tell her any of that. Because he’s fine. Because he is handling this.  

“No problem,” he says, forcing a smile. Only a little bit of disdain sneaks through “Loose leaf or bag?”

“Loose. Make a pot, Mal will have some too”

She leans forward on her arms and begins tapping her finger nails on the bench with a tatatatat, tatatatat. Another test. Tatatatat.

Josiah leans against the bench for a moment, taking a deep breath before straightening up again and flicking the kettle on. Lou’s a bitch when she wants to be.

“Love what you’ve done with the place, by the way,” Lou says, picking up a rogue fork with one hand while the other tatatatats “Really gives the place that ransacked Airbnb feel I know you love”

Josiah scoops chamomile into the strainer and takes a deep breath. Tatatatat.

“Honey?” he asks, fetching a spoon. 

Tatatatat.

“I would, but by the looks, you’d have to scrape it off the tiles”

Tatatatat. Tatatatat. Tatatatat.

“Calming down was part of the arrangement,” he says, reminding himself as much as Lou.

“I am calm,” she says, shrugging. The steel in her eyes only betrays her a little “I’m not going to just not talk about this, Jos.”

“Nothing to talk about,” Josiah shrugs, turning his back. He doesn’t look at her as he fetches mugs “Cass showed up, he looked sick, I called Mal, end of.”

Lou nods slowly, tatatatat, tatatatat, “And then you decided to turn your own house upside down for fun, did you?”

Josiah slams the cupboard draw shut harder than it needs, wheeling around to face her, and catching her hand flat against the bench to stop the sound. He manages to keep his tone relatively even, despite the anger bubbling hot in his chest.

“I’ve had a long fucking day, Lou, are you going to stop being an asshole or are you going to leave?”

“Depends. Are you gonna tell me what actually happened here, or am I gonna go ask Ace myself?”

“I told you what happened, you just don’t like the story.”

“What I don’t like is being lied to.”

Josiah grunts and pushes away from her. He leans back against the stove, resisting the urge to press his hand to his head, which is starting to pound again, to the back of his neck which is starting to itch. He closes his eyes. Weighs his options.

If Lou finds out Cass has been here the better part of a week, Josiah’s never gonna hear the goddamn end of it. There’ll be yelling and you should have called me and your safety needs to be a priority and she’ll be so disappointed in him. Not that the last part matters, he reminds himself, swallowing past the lump in his throat. Not that it matters, it’ll just be annoying. 

“He came yesterday,” he mutters, trying his very best to look resigned and wrung through. If lies look beaten out of you, they seem honest. Then partial truth to sell it. “I just… left to get some milk. And by the time I came back, he’d freaked out. Turned the house sideways. Kept saying I’d drugged him.”

“Had you?”

The glare he fixes her with is violent enough that, for maybe only the second time since he’s known her, Josiah watches Lou shrink in instant regret.

“Sorry,” she says. She means it. 

It’s quiet for a moment as the tea brews. Josiah swirls the pot a little, hoping to make the leaves steep faster. He knows it doesn’t do much, but it helps to have something to do with his hands. 

“I’m sorry. I know you’re not… It’s not…” Lou stumbles for words, spinning the fork idly. It really helps to have something to do with your hands. “Cass just… scares me. He really scares me. Especially around you.”

The comment hits Josiah like a bullet to the chest, and he sucks in a breath trying to shove down the flare of anger that hits him. Despite popular opinion, he’s not a helpless, naive moron being led astray by pretty people with ill intentions. He doesn’t need her fear. He doesn’t want her pity.

“I’m not some fucking waif, Lou,” he grinds out. He pours the tea.

“Come on Jos, you know that’s not what I meant,” she says and that hard line is back in her voice “What if he’s working with Tucker again? Or someone else?”

Josiah doesn’t answer. He’s thought of this. Of course he’s fucking thought of this, she needs to leave it.

“If he is, I’ll handle it.”

“Yeah? How did that go last time?”

He clenches his hands into fists. He doesn’t need reminders about last time. He has enough reminders about last time. He feels his heart in his throat.

“Cass is a time bomb,” Lou says, and her voice is soft and pained. Gentle in a way she isn’t often “When there’s a time bomb in your house you call in the bomb squad, you don’t wait for it to blow up in your face.”

“I called Mal.”

“You should have called me.”

“Calling you wouldn’t have been calling in the bomb squad it would’ve been pulling the pin on a grenade.”

There’s a strike of wounding in her face at that, but understanding too. She knows he’s right.

“What happens when he names you, Jos?” she whispers, and for a second Josiah swears there’s a shake in her voice. “Are you gonna handle that too or do I just have to be okay with losing you again?”

Josiah sags and reaches for her hand, giving her a reassuring squeeze. Old signals. This is why she wasn’t meant to know Cass was back. This is why she shouldn’t be here. 

“It wasn’t like that this time, Lou,” he says “He didn’t-”

But Lou pulls her hand away, like he’s burnt her. Any gentleness is gone from her face, replaced with shock and hard steel.

“I’m sorry… what wasn’t like that this time?” her voice is sharp, loud, probably audible from the other room. Her heart is beating so hard that Josiah can see it in the pulse of the necklace she’s wearing. She laughs and it’s bitter and cold and disbelieving. He sucks in a breath, like bracing for a hit. 

“He’s already fucking named you, hasn’t he?” she says. He doesn’t answer, doesn’t look at her. He doesn’t need to. The stool crashes to the ground as she stands “Oh, I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

Lou’s already moving before she even finishes speaking, making a bee-line for the bedroom. She’s moving fast enough that despite the pace difference between them, she’s already made it to the hallway by the time Josiah can cut her off. He slams a hand to the wall, blocking the narrow path.

“Move,” she growls. He stays still, shakes his head, knows she won’t risk pushing past him.

"Not even twenty four hours and he’s in your head again,” her voice is a snarl, vicious and low “Is that why you’re so calm? Is that why you’re suddenly fine with that piece of shit in your bed?”

She doesn’t mean it to be cruel or maybe she does, but either way Josiah feels the shame of it settling in his gut. It wasn’t like that - it isn’t like that. It's… different and he’s different and he is in control. He chose it this time. He chose to bring Cass in, to help him. It was his decision.

“It’s not like that-”

"You’re always defending him. No matter what he does to you, no matter how he hurts you, you’re always defending him.”

“He hasn’t done-”

“This is why you didn’t call, isn’t it?” and she’s not even listening. She doesn’t even care, she’s just barreling on no matter what he says “He made you lie, he made you keep it from me.”

“No, Lou, I chose to keep it from you. I chose to lie. I chose to call Mal because I didn’t want to deal with this- I didn’t want to deal with you, alright?!”

He doesn’t hear the door opening, doesn’t hear Cass’ furious rambling as he pushes through to the hallway. But he sees Lou looking over his shoulder, and sees her face crumpling, hears the breathless, shocked “Cass” that escapes her lips. Then he hears Mal.

“I take it you’ve met my wife?”

Then he sees Cass’ eyes rolling backwards. He only has just enough time to catch him as he faints.