#given that cutting i can hide from my parents if i had my knife but if i jump off my balcony i can't possibly hide it from them

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

poetry. putting under the cut bc potentially triggering mention of suicide/ideation/sh.

The days they pass like wine

The nights like drunken grief

I wash with stuff unclean

And wonder why I fail.

I go to God with hands outstretched

Receive an answer faint and dim

"Come to my arms and take from me

The water fresh and pure

Wash out the bad and all the dark

And live as you were born."

Hands, my hands are scarred and frail

They reach and trembling drop

An inch away he holds the stuff

And I collapse and cry.

I cannot reach so far as some

Can limp not stride or dance

God helps the weak, but what of me

I try and yet, I fail.

A thousand times I've made a plan

A hundred times I've cut

Look at my hands, and look, my side

My self-made saviour, self made weak.

The pain is never great enough

To clean the sins I've done;

To die in awful agony

Would fit the one I am.

The plans I burn, like I would burn

If my mind had its way

Delete them from my little world

As I too would be gone.

A thousand times I've made a plan

Some days I make a few

The easy, not the best, idea

A coward I'd be. Coward I am.

The pain is never great enough

To clean the sins I've done;

Yet God be thanked he sent his Son

And self made man must fade.

The knife, it tempts

And death, it beckons

The world is hard and living harder

And pain then seems the only way

But ever there is God, so close

Saying, "Come and trust me

Let go of all, and fall

And fall out of your own desires

Into safety, truth, and love."

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Good day! This is my first time asking so sorry if it sounds weird! Can I ask something related to Hiccup's accidental confession in "Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot"? Maybe his experience in jealousy when Dagur takes a liking to Hiccup's crush?

Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot pt 4

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 2197

Enter scene: Dagur the Deranged

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse, Dragons: Riders of Berk, Twinsanity, Canon compliant/divergent, unedited

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Some people had fun lives-parties, drinks, a lot of mixing with other people-and some people got a full education. You got neither, because you were stuck here, some good thousand years in the past, listening to this.

“It’s so annoying, they won’t stop talking about my father!”

Everyone else cowered away, even his own… Friends. Followers. Parents, maybe. Whoever the men standing behind him were. There was something unsettling about him. He was intense and like a small animal, it made you want to quiet and hide. 

“Really?” You asked, parroting him, “I can see how that would be annoying.”

He looked at you with his eyes wide open, an insane look in his eye like he was waiting for you to falter somehow, so you were afraid that staying silent was out of the question.

“You wouldn’t happen to be hiding any dragons? Would you?”

“N-no?” You smiled awkwardly. Barf and Belch were more like one dragon. With two brains. So you were telling the truth, sort of,

A viking about the same age if not a few years older than you stood absentmindedly in the middle of your path, twirling a knife casually, though to you it came off as menacing. A metal helmet that covered all of his head barring his eyebrows, a bright red, and the oblong face below it.

Stripes of blue ran across his right eye. Left eye, from his perspective, your right. You couldn’t tell if it was facepaint or a tattoo.

“I’m sorry, I didn't… Ah, catch your name? Who are you, again?”

From memory, you could recall nothing of him but a few distant impressions. Not even a name. You knew vaguely that he was supposed to be important, and bad news, which set you on edge. He was probably not from around here, given that you’d never seen him before.

“... You don’t know who I am?” He looked almost affronted, fingering the tip of his knife, not caring a bit when the sharp blade cut a small nick into the very tip. You watched wearily as a small bit of blood welled at the entrance of the wound.

“I’m new here, and I don’t usually spend time indulging in politics.”

“Really?” he asked. ‘So you’re unattached?’ his face said joyfully. You weren’t very good at reading between the lines but you could tell that much. You were afraid he might be rid of you, then drag your lifeless body into the woods for the wolves to eat. Then he might eat the wolves.

You shifted from foot to foot uneasily and yet somehow exhaustively in front of a set of large doors, part of some poor viking’s hovel, wherein a large two-headed dragon was now contained.

You didn’t want to have anything to do with it but with all the panic, you felt that you should probably help out. 

You’d heard earlier that everyone was evacuating their dragons. When you asked where they were going and if you needed to catch a ride, they told you to stay back and ignore it like the rest of them. So, as per request, you decided to stay out of it.

You might not have known the reason why but you knew it was of the utmost importance. And you had an inkling it might have had something to do with Dagur the Deranged, as he was boasting his name and in the same breath spewing something about treaties and dragonblood.

Privately, though, you thought it seemed incredibly inconvenient and illogical to send all the dragons off the island, especially with how essential they had become to Berk’s day-to-day. There was no way in hel that they could have removed every trace of dragons in Berk in just a day. And in hindsight, they hadn’t. People had been cleaning up for weeks, though you weren’t sure why. Now you knew.

Honestly, maybe you weren’t even sure that the Berk vikings needed more than a day. After all, before the dragon raids stopped, they were rebuilding villages in just a day, on top of all the other insanely laborious things that you needed to do to survive on this island. 

Whoever thought it would be a good idea to build the village away from the forest and the rest of the island and fresh water and all the other foresty things people needed to survive deserved to die. Whoever decided it would be on this specific, extremely windy outcropping with only a thin, rickety bridge connecting the two deserved much worse.

“-My armada.” Dagur stood tall, staring off into the sky like he was preaching to some higher power, “Ready with the might of fifty thousand Berserker soldiers!”

Unfortunately, Dagur- he’d caught you as you’d shut the doors, two-pronged tail waving just out of sight. Wrangling dragons wasn’t your strong suit. In fact it was less wrangling and more pushing the Zippleback bodily in the direction you wanted and hoping that by some miracle it listened. Or found something it liked in the same direction.

“However, I can’t seem to find any dragon riders.”

“Well, I haven’t seen any recently“ You tried, voice a few octaves too high and a smidge too cracked. Hopefully, though, it was absent of the abject uncomfortability wracking your beating heart. Also, that was a blatant lie.

“But if there are any, they’re probably afraid?” You avoided looking him in the eye.

“The mighty Hooligans, most efficient dragon slayers, fiercest vikings on the seven seas, afraid? Who knew?” he said, with no amount of hidden glee, “If you’re lying to me, I’ll have your head.”

“On a platter,” You agreed, edging away slowly. Maybe he was insane. But whether he was insane enough was the question. Insane enough not to notice the stiff set of your shoulders and way you leaned back as he encroached on your personal space.

You glared bitterly at a burly blonde man with a large, ram-horned helmet as he snuck past the pair of you plus entourage. You wanted to call him a coward, but the odds, and the company were frightening, so you understood on some level. It didn’t stop the sharp bitter pang from curling in your gut.

At this very moment, you so very badly wanted to be anywhere else. Not pressed against a set of rugged wooden doors, with the too-loud gravel and dried grass crunching under your feet. Most of all, back on your haystack, laying down and imagining you were back in your time at a park, or something, with luxuries like electricity. And running water. And digestible food.

“Ruffnut! Tuffnut-!”

You breathed a sigh of relief as you heard, then saw, when you could muster the courage to turn your stiff neck away, Hiccup, in his red tunic-which he hadn’t seemed to take off since you’d given it to him, which was kind of gross, but whatever, it was his shirt- running down the long end of a spiraling wooden pathway to your right. 

The people here did only bathe, like, once a week. Maybe it wasn't whatever. It was kind of unsanitary. You realized bitterly that it might not be so hard to get ahold of some decent bathing water if you weren’t the only one who bathed so regularly.

Hiccup came to a clumsy stop right by you, slightly in front as if maybe sensing your alarm, though really you chalked it up to the steep incline and his difficult to navigate prosthetic leg. You suspected that there wasn’t as much of a solid grip at the bottom as there should be.

“Are you alright?” You mumbled under your breath. He did look stressed. Maybe he was vulnerable to the suggestion of taking a bath. If you were going to spend your time here campaigning for proper hygiene then he seemed like a good place to start.

“I’m-” Hiccup said, half-wheezing from his sprint, “Have you seen-?”

“What are we whispering about?” Dagur spoke loudly. Well, louder than the two of you. 

Hiccup winced. You winced too, though probably not for the same reason. The Zippleback stuck in storage behind had started doing something. There was a healthy rifling building up behind the two of you.

“There’s no dragons here!” Hiccup said, then, just as loudly, probably trying to cover up the noise behind him, “My father, the Chief, wants to speak with you.”

“Again?” Dagur threw his head back, obviously annoyed. Then he said, his voice laden with sarcasm, “How about you go ahead? We wouldn’t want to leave this lovely lady all by her lonesome, would we?”

His voice was not lacking in any amount of sarcasm.

“Look, like I said, how about you keep on searching. I’ll stay behind.” Hiccup asserted. He usually tried to take the mediating stance, with varied measures of success. Especially since the island started training dragons and he was put in charge of them. 

It wasn’t a lot, but you were sort of relieved he was doing something, because you most definitely didn’t have the authority, inherited or earned, to do it yourself.

Hiccup, though, looked an awful lot like he’d put on a pair of boots that were much too large for him, though the longer he stood there and Dagur stared, the more twitchy he got. 

Like a lightbulb went off in his head Dagur grinned down at the two of you. 

“Hey, wait-!” Hiccup startled, eyes widening. Before you could react, Dagur had pushed him aside and dipped you by the waist to move you out of Hiccup’s way, which only seemed to frustrate him in a way you hadn’t seen before.

“Thanks,” You said to Hiccup, petting the head of the calmed Zippleback, a-la-Hiccup, as he nursed his eye, fresh and brightly bruised, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, I didn’t do much,” Hiccup said deprecatingly, shifting awkwardly where he sat. He was sitting on a crate in the dark cabin. He had taken a pretty bad beating. 

You hadn’t sat by either, feeling terrible as Dagur took the excuse to bully Hiccup. Dagur hadn’t taken too kindly to you telling him no either. Unfortunately, now you were nursing a few bruises yourself. The hammer of justice was unisex, you supposed. Except in this case, it was more like the hammer of war.

You really hoped you hadn’t accidentally started something with the Berserkers.

“You said something,” You shook your head, “I think I saw at least five people pass me by before you. I mean it.”

“And I think I owe you an apology,” You laughed awkwardly, backing away from the Zippleback as it lifted its head, deciding that it had had enough time being scratched by your not-so-expert fingers, “I tried to help but I’m pretty sure I just made things more difficult. And got in the way. I didn’t really expect him to start a fight like that.”

“Got in the way? …Got in the way of what? Me talking my way into a fight? Or falling my way to victory?” Hiccup suggested hesitantly after a moment. You could tell he was having a hard time finding the right words. 

“I tripped more than you did.” You insisted. 

“No, you didn’t. Did you see me? I literally fell into a fist.” Hiccup looked up at you, exposing a still-bleeding cut under his bruise-free eye, which you had sacrificed a strip of your skirt to dab at. You worried it might need stitches.

“Well, at least Dagur’s off somewhere else. Terrorizing other people.” You scratched the back of your neck, cringing as the extra movement irritated your sore ribs. 

Hiccup winced, “That was supposed to be my job. To make sure he doesn’t.”

“Oh boy, That’s rough,” You said sympathetically, rubbing the back of your head, half self-consciously and half to make sure you weren’t forming any lumps, “Doesn’t he have, like, a whole detail following him around to make sure he can?”

You exhaled, “Speaking of, is there anywhere… away from him that I could go? Just until the end of the day? He really freaks me out.”

You hoped you said that right. Sometimes you had a hard time translating your modern colloquialisms. And decoding the local ones.

“I think so, I’m not sure, but have you seen the twins?” Hiccup furrowed his brow, “I’ve been, well, looking for them. I might have an idea.”

You sat yourself down heavily on a rock overlooking the cliffs, watching the fleet of Berserker ships sail off into the distance and you pounded your chest with your fist as you tried to calm your racing heart. You hadn’t realized what had happened at first so it had sent you into a panic.

But once you realized, you weren’t really sure all the extra theatrics were necessary. The chicken gore might have been a bit overkill. And the fake beheading. And the almost actual beheading. It was still wild enough that you had to flee.

A regular plain old fake dragon attack would have probably been enough. Genuinely, sometimes you had to ask yourself if you really had ended up in a kid’s show or something much, much worse.

[kyriat-stories]

Noor made sure to keep Teo busy the next few weeks. It was not difficult, there was always something to do in the household. Simadhne was not of any help anymore, she showed clear signs of what we now call dementia, and Noor usually had Areth or Phaidros watch her so she didn't put the house on fire or wonder off. It was difficult times.

There were happy moments too though, and often comical ones, and touching ones too. Simadhne often asked Noor who she was and did not seem to recognize any of the children. But she had long conversations with Tychon, whom, however, she insisted on calling Nashuja, but Tychon didn't mind. He loved the strange stories his grandmother told.

One day when Teo came home from his classes they had visitors. It was Kyria Figaleía and his aunt whom he knew already, but also two women he never had seen before.

- Teo, there you are! Kyria Figaleía chirped. Come and say hello to Despinis Purina. She and her mother came all the way from Strangépolis to see you.

- Hello. That's quite a journey. Teo was not able to hide his lack of enthusiasm. He was pretty sure what this visit was about.

- Maybe you could show Purina the garden? She is very interested in gardening you see.

- Oh really? Yes of course.

- And over there are the tomato plants...

Teo did as he was told, but Purina didn't seem very interested in gardening after all, and Teo was not too keen on getting into other topics.

After the guests had left Teo was on thoughts.

- I really wish my brothers were here, he mumbled to himself. Maybe they could have given me some advice, because I really don't know what to do now. It's a nightmare, and there seems to be no way out for me.

- Well that was a very nice girl, don't you think Teo?

- I don't know what to say mother.

- Of course she is a few winters older than you, and maybe she's not the prettiest girl I've seen, but she is polite, and has a considerable prika, and her parents are well respected. Her father is a respected lawmaker in Strangépolis.

- It doesn't matter to me mother.

- It doesn't matter?! How can you say such a thing! It's your future we are talking about? Why are you sulking? Are you cutting onions?

- No, mother I'm sad, okay!! I'm really sad, because you are trying to force me to marry a person I don't care about, and I'm much to young to get married anyway, and I didn't choose her and I will NEVER EVER choose her! The thought of marrying her freaks me out.

- But she wasn't that ugly, Teo? Maybe you will like her after a while? You know how marriages are done here in Manthos, it's a rational way to build a future and family.

- I know that, but the thought of sharing a bed or even kissing her is revolting, don't you understand that? Nobody should have to do ... that to someone they don't care about! It's sickening. I don't care how it's usually done!

Teo threw the kitchen knife on the floor and ran out of the kitchen, crying loudly. A horrifying thought hit Noor.

- Holy Astanna, I was just on the verge of making the biggest mistake of my life, the biggest betrayal I could ever do. ME, of all persons! I should have known better.

.

Previous | Index | Character overview | Next

[xxmyhomexx]

SONG OF THE CRIMSON NILE: Bargain, Part Two

Part two of my of my previous post. Amen took the seat directly in front of her on the opposite end of the table. Eva noticed his plate already contained dry fish and mahshi, a wooden cup perched to his lips. He sipped and started to cut into his food, the sound of a knife audible to her ears.

She peered down at her plate. Hers was filled to the edges, but now if she were to dig in, it'd taste like the desert sand on her tongue. She pushed her food away, Amen watching her.

"I'm not hungry anymore," she shook her head.

A loud rumble caused her to shrink back, internally cursing herself. Amen raised a brow.

"Don't be stupid, Evthys," he chided. "You haven't eaten all day."

"And I don't plan on it," she retorted snarkily. "How do I know it's not poisoned? That you'll do away with me at my hunger?"

Amen slammed his utensils on the table, the plinking so loud it caused her to stiffen.

"Do you really think I'd sink so low?" He hissed. "If I wanted you dead, you would've been by now. You won't do any good starving yourself, and even if you did, you'd still be given your meals accordingly, because you're in MY house under MY orders...and I don't think it'd be wise to go hungry."

Eva glared daggers at him. No matter how much she wanted to protest, now wasn't the time to be selfish. She needed to eat, even if it meant taking it from the man she didn't want feeding her. She picked up her knife, cut a piece of fish, and plopped it in her mouth.

It was salmon, she realized. It slid down her throat with ease, making her cut off another, and another. The fish was rich, juicy, and delicious. When she tasted the other foods, they were just as good. She could stuff her mouth, and she'd still want seconds with a full belly. Soon, her mouth was so full she had to take one gulp of wine to wash it down, some of it dribbling down her chin.

Amen watched as she wiped her mouth with a napkin before cutting into his own food once more. He snacked on a piece of mahshi, combining it with fish. Now it was Eva's turn to watch him. Her cheeks crimsoned at the flexing of his jaw when he chewed, the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, it was cathartic, the hunger melting from her eyes until reality snapped in.

No, no, no! He took you from your loved ones! Don't be fooled. She shook her head and continued to eat, distracting herself with another swig of wine.

"Are my friends ok?" Her voice broke the silence. "Are they really safe?"

Amen's jaw ticked. "You asking me is surprising. Considering this arraingement...yes. They are ok. Titian is looking after them."

"Is that supposed to comfort me?" Eva frowned. "I don't know if I can take the word of the supreme Epistates seriously, considering he dragged me miles away from my home."

"Save it, Evthys," Amen shut her down. "As long as you cooperate, no harm will come to you or your loved ones. Do your job here well, and you'll not give me reason to punish you."

"Oh such joy," Eva replied sarcastically. "I bet your parents must be proud that their son's a killer."

Amen's eyes twitched, fueled with rage. He suddenly wanted to strangle her, cut her throat for even MENTIONING his parents. How dare she insult them? He eyed her dangerously as his fingers tightened together. Eva flinched when she realized she hit a nerve.

"You have NO IDEA about the things I've done," his deep drawl sent chills down her spine. "And my family is NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS."

And that is how it remained: an unspoken threat in her ears. When he leaned back in his chair to continue eating, Eva peered at her plate: it was half-eaten, and she had room for more, but it wasn't appetizing anymore. Her stomach turned to lead, the heaviness of the evening weighing her down. She placed her utensils down and stood.

"Just remember this," she did her best to hide the quiver in her tone. "You took me from my loved ones...and I'll forever hate you for that."

She then exited the dining hall without so much as a backward glance, passing an unsuspecting Theone, who was slinked against the wall with a pitiful look. After she disappeared, the assistant followed her gaze until she slipped into the darkness.

~~~

A soft knock caused Eva to wake up.

"Evthys?" It was Theone. "May I come in?"

"If you must!" Eva groaned, rubbing her tired eyes. The door clicked open, and a pleasant-looking assistant came in holding a cage.

"Theone, it's late. What does Amen want now?"

"Oh, I'm not here on his orders," Theone shook her head. "I'm here with your friend."

Friend? Eva sat up as she watched her kneel to the floor, unlocking the cage. Sure enough, Omphis, Afiri, or Polyb come walking out. Eva's eyes widened as they jump or fly on the bed, right into her arms. Theone smiles as she watches her hug them for a long time.

"How did you get them here?" Eva asked.

"I know the guard to the animal house," Theone smiles. "He's never awake. And I knew you had a pet, so it was easy to sneak them out."

Eva is shocked that her animal companion is in the same room as her, unharmed and happily cuddling against her. She has to watch out for Polyb's talons, who flies right to the window for a comfortable perch. As soon as her pet is sound asleep, she turns to Theone.

"Thank you," her appreciation was apparent. "But I need someone to watch them. I know you're busy, Theone, but..."

"Say no more, Evthys," she vowed. "I'd be more than willing."

Theone strokes their head/wings, commenting on their beauty. They warm up to her immediately. Theone wishes her a good night as she leaves to her own house. Eva looks at her pet, suddenly feeling less wary and scared. Perhaps she could make this transition work, even if she was out of reach with her friends.

~~~

As Theone exited the room, she turned the corner and jumped back when the supreme Epistates leaned against the wall, arms crossed and not looking too pleased with Eva's personal assistant. He had an inkling something was happening when Eva left her dinner plate only half eaten, and while he knew she didn't plan anything, he saw Theone heading in a direction where maids, or healing assistants, were not permitted.

From the shadows, like a cat, Theone carried a cage that contained Eva's beloved pet. He never gave her orders to retrieve them, so why she went behind his back, it must be due to their encounter in Thebes when she gave her that cloak. Theone didn't hand out clothing like that, so Eva must've helped her with a commission under his nose.

Those wretched girls. He already had trouble with Eva almost refusing to eat, and now Theone was retrieving things for her. He could go and separate them for another maid, but would that be a difference? Probably not, and Eva was already overwhelmed.

"Epistates," Theone bowed, regaining her grace. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Having fun sneaking behind my back, Theone?" Amen's tone was dangerous. "It looks like Evthys has you already under her thumb."

Theone's eyes widened. "I'm just making sure she's comfortable, sir. You assigned me to her, and I just remember my orders."

"How thoughtful," Amen's eyes scanned the hall. "You're done. Return to your home now."

Theone nodded and rushed passed him, only stopping dead when he called out to her.

"And Theone...next time, if you need something, don't commission a sheshmu."

Blood running cold, Theone gulped before disappearing.

Amen sighed as he slumped against the wall. He had a lot of work to do, and it began now.

[ink-n-dragons]

Dragons WIP Chapter 1: Sighwel

ayyyyyyy look! the first chapter! prologue is here if you missed that and wanna read it!

taglist: @authorofemotion @accidental-spice @kanerallels @laughingphoenixleader @silverpaintedstars (hope i didnt forget anyone <3)

read under the cut! <3

The plan Amanthi worked out for Scythia and I didn’t work. Not because we got caught, or were too slow, or any of the things you’d expect, but because we had the wrong information for the price of the train and were turned away before we could even leave town. And then I had spent months sulking around the flightless shelter with old men who had never known what it was to be brave, and old women who sat around and told nonsense stories and spoke of hope they would never have, and too-nosy children without a memory of the parents who had abandoned them. I am all of them at once, I suppose: scared and hopeless and alone. The difference is that I’m going to do something about it.

Before Scythia left, she had convinced one of the shelter ladies to sew a leather sheath into the inside of each of my coats, and then she made me promise to keep my knife with me at all times. The lady who’d done the sewing didn’t remember a thing. Sometimes I thought it must be nice to live each day without any knowledge of the one you’d lived yesterday, but then I remember that I have things worth remembering. Now, kneeling on the floor beside one of the numerous flee-filled mattresses in the shelter, I carefully slide a set of small throwing knives into the sheath on the inside of my coat and strap the dagger Amanthi had given me to my thigh. Just the handle stuck up above my pants after I had pulled them on: I could easily unsheathe the knife if I needed too, but otherwise, nobody would know it was there. 

I stuff some food into the pockets of my coat, thankful again for the cold weather. The snow settling outside for the third time in three days, building gradually higher and higher, is an excuse to wear a thick winter coat with deep pockets. I can carry more food and conceal my knives better this way. 

Scythia had gone last autumn, leaving me to find my own way to the Absolved. East Wilten. Brenthew Street. I repeat the names in my head, determined to not forget them. Maybe Scythia can help me get through the testing since she already has. She will know what to do and not do, how to get into the Absolved, how to be important. All I have to do is get there.

Hastily, I slip out of the room where the other flightless are sleeping, my hand ready to unsheathe the dagger at my side. I make it down the hallway to the cellar and round the corner. Yesterday I had oiled the hinges to make sure the trapdoor wouldn’t creak; now the door opened smoothly. Dark as always, and freezing cold this time of year, the hard dirt ground and skittering rats of the cellar greet me as I climb down the ladder. Quietly, I reach up and ease the trapdoor shut and all the light is sucked away from around me. I reach the ground and stand there, shaking. My hands are still grasping the rungs of the ladder. People say that your eyes adjust to the dark, but not if the only thing around you is darkness. I can blink all I want, blink until I pass out, fall asleep and wake up again, live my whole life here, but I won’t be able to see any better than I do now. The darkness makes me dizzy. I can feel the ground beneath me, but who’s to say it’ll be there if I take a step in a different direction? I hate, hate, hate this. Faintly, I start to hear a set of familiar footsteps in the hallway above me. Someone—Hezia—is coming towards the cellar trapdoor and I’ll be found if I don’t hide. Why is she awake? Did she hear me? What did I do wrong?

I reach my hand out to the side shakily and feel along the wall, sliding my feet carefully along the ground. Something rough touches my fingers. I think it’s one of the barrels the wardens keep stockpiled away down here, probably filled with salt or wheat or something equally as important to the flightless living here. Below the first barrel, I can feel a second. There’s a little corner behind the stack of barrels and I crawl into it, the footsteps right above me now. I pull my knees up to my chest as the trapdoor above the ladder opens and light floods in from above. 

The ladder rungs creak under the intruder’s weight, growing slightly louder with each step down. I am frozen between the barrels, afraid to breathe. Hezia and I are close, but a little voice in my head tells me I can’t trust her to keep this secret. She is like a sister to me, at least more than Scythia ever was. Which isn’t saying much. Maybe it’s not even her, I reason with myself. But we have chased each other up and down the hallway above and I have crouched, hiding and snickering, in this same place before, listening to her searching footsteps parade overhead too many times to count. I know what Hezia sounds like when she is looking for me, and we are both aware that she knows exactly how to find me. 

The ladder rungs creak under her weight, even though she is slight and underfed like every other flightless here. I can’t hear her land on the ground, but the creaking of the ladder has stopped. I slide my knife out of its sheath, for the off chance that the intruder is not Hezia. 

Carefully, I pull myself to my feet and creep further into the forest of barrels, straining to hear where Hezia is at the same time. The trapdoor is still open, offering slivers of light here and there between the stacks of barrels. I try my best to stay hidden in the darkness. Not for the first time, I am grateful for the dirt floor muffling my footsteps. I am almost to the tunnel: it’s in the back corner, hidden by the newest barrels, the ones that wouldn’t be used or moved for at least a few years. If Hezia finds me before I make it out, I will have to try convincing her to leave with me. 

I hold my knife at my side pointing forward, the strange black blade absorbing any light that touches it. It’s perfect for this kind of thing: it will not betray my position by reflecting light or making any noise when unsheathing it. I don’t know what kind of material it’s made of, but it is utterly silent. I’ve tested it in too many situations: it does not reflect light, just absorbs it. It does not make sound, instead makes my own movements unnaturally silent when wielding it. It does not draw blood, simply drains its victim of life immediately after breaking the skin. I’ve often wondered if Scythia’s works the same as mine. 

I make it to the corner where the tunnel should be without Hezia—or whoever it is—finding me, but now I have another problem. I can’t move the barrels without making some kind of noise. I can convince her to come with me. But it’s Hezia. I am going to the Absolved, with their Goldenborn and Lleu-worship, with their abnegation of the dark-haired. Hezia, with her black hair and fiery eyes, would never fit. She would not come with me, and the realization is like a rock in my stomach. I don’t know what to do. If she finds me before I can leave, she might not try to stop me. But there’s always a chance that she would tell the wardens, and the wardens would tell the Justices, and the Justices would do Lleu knows what. I’ll just have to move quickly, I think. Push the barrels away and run the whole way to the train. Hezia’s always been faster than me, but maybe my desperation will give me an advantage this time. 

Suddenly, a harsh whisper comes from behind me, “Sighwel!” I turn without thinking, swinging my dark blade with the rest of my body. The point slices lightly—almost gently—across Hezia’s waist and she falls to the ground immediately. Her body thumps slightly on the cold dirt ground. It is suddenly completely silent; I can hear my heart mirroring the sound of her fall: thump thump thump. Hezia laying on the ground. Thump. My knife resting in my palm, neither bloodied nor stained. Thump. Hezia dead. Thump. I will be gone—I need to be gone—when they are sure to find her in the morning. Forcing myself away from Hezia, I push the barrels away from the wall, sobs rocking my body now and dizziness coming in waves. 

The tunnel gapes before me, more darkness before I can get to the Absolved. I almost turn to go into the tunnel, but then I stop. I will undoubtably be judged as a murderer if Hezia is found here and I am discovered to be gone. If I want to avoid unnecessary suspicion, I need to bring Hezia with me into the tunnel. I will carry her half way, then leave her. Not many people know about this tunnel. She should be safe. 

Safe? She’s not safe; she’s dead. But she’s not in danger either. I kneel next to Hezia and loop my arms under her armpits. Lifting her is harder than I thought it’d be. She is malnourished and skeletal from living at the flightless shelter, but so am I. I am in no shape to lift her, but if I don’t get her away from here and hidden, any possibility I have of a future with the Absolved is gone. Somehow, I manage to drag Hezia into the tunnel. I set her down and pull the barrels in the cellar back into place to cover the tunnel, enveloping us in darkness. Lifting Hezia is even harder now that I can’t see where she is, and I only manage to drag her a few feet down the tunnel before I collapse. This will have to be good enough. Nobody is going to look for her down here anyway: Scythia and I are the only people who know of the tunnel’s existence. 

I leave Hezia and stumble through the tunnel, growing more lightheaded the farther I go. The ground starts slanting slightly upwards and I keep pushing forward through the dark. The faint sound of a Corpse bird rings in my ears. I know I’m imagining it: birds do not live underground. But I killed Hezia, so maybe I deserve one. Corpse birds are an omen of misfortune, a symbol of justice for those who have been wronged and death for those who deserve it. I have seen them looming around the flightless shelter before: gathering in clouds over executions and prisons, resting on the shoulders of criminals and murderers, and ever-present in the wake of violence. 

Light is drifting towards me faintly now, a sign that I am almost out of the tunnel. Closer, closer, and then I am out in the snow and wind and sleet. The world is so white and cold that I almost overlook the Corpse bird flying overhead. It spirals gently down to my shoulder, its black claws gripping sharply onto my thick coat. I look at it sadly, examining the silver scales and black eyes. I whisper to it, even though I know it can’t respond. “Little Marwolaeth. It’s just me and you now.” 

[uenodivision]

A knock is heard on the door. Opening the door reveals no one is there but three wrapped presents all addressed to Aranai Norikoru.  Bringing them inside you see an envelope attached to one of the gifts with "Open First" written on top. Opening the envelope you see not a letter but a disc the size of hand. You jump when the disc activates and reveals a hologram of the members of Wicked Requiem.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY! ARANAI SENPAI!" Kanra shouts. A huge smile on her face as Yuriko and Kaoru stand next to her. 

"Happy Birthday Motor Girl!" Kaoru says, throwing her hand in a peace sign.

"Indeed Happy Birthday Aranai-chan. Forgive us for not being able to deliver the gifts in person but we were able to record this for you." Yuriko finishes with a small smile on her lips.

"Open my gift first!" Kanra says, vibrating with excitement. 

Opening the gift marked with from Kanra reveals a pair of knee length leather boots with cherry blossom pink laces.

"New boots so you can ride around town! Hope you can put them to good use." Kanra cheers fist pumping the air. 

"I believe it's my turn now." Yuriko says as her smile turns much more mischievous. 

Opening the gift marked from Yuriko reveals a black combat knife with cherry blossom petals engraved on the blade.

"A Knife from my personal collection because you can never have too many ways to defend yourself. Come over and I'll properly show you how to use it but I would hide it from Shisuta and Kisouna. They probably wouldn't approve of it." Yuriko laughs. 

"I'm last and it is probably the best of the gifts." Kaoru boasts.

Opening the gift from Kaoru which was the smallest reveals a motorcycle key with the Sakurai Clan symbol as a keychain attached. 

"I got you a new Yamaha. I did some modifications to it that may not be street legal but you didn't hear that from me. I will let you know that it can go close to 225 MPH. So those stupid cops can barely catch you now. It should be parked out back." Kaoru winks a huge smile on her face. 

"Well Aranai it appears we've run out of time. I wish you a great rest of your birthday and hope to see you soon." Yuriko finishes.  

"Happy Birthday Aranai!" Kaoru and Kanra cheer one last time.

The hologram cuts off as the members of Wicked Requiem wave goodbye. The disc proceeds to play the Happy Birthday song before turning off. 

As the hologram ends, Aranai finds it hard to conceal the small smirk on her face, as she looks at the new boots on her feet given to her by her protege, Kanra.

"Not bad," she says. "Kid certainly knows my style. A little uncomfortable now, but that's easy to fix."

Heading to her garage, she walked promptly by her parents' room, rolling her eyes a bit as it was unsurprisingly empty. Heading downstairs, she entered the garage and looked at Kanra's gift, a new Yamaha, situated closely beside her old one. Truthfully, she was a bit worried about riding another bike. Her old Yamaha was her friend and partner, and one that she had personally customized for herself.

Still, it would be rude to refuse, so the former Bōsōzoku gingerly got on her new bike. Surprisingly, it fitted her almost as well as her old one did. Throwing the keys in the air, which she caught with ease, Aranai put the key in the ignition and heard the purr of the engine roar to life.

Before driving off, she felt around in her back pocket for Yuriko's gift, her brand-new knife. Looking at it, the SC leader smirked.

"Maybe I'll take her up on that offer." She said. "Yeah, I definitely will."

As the garage door opened, the wheels of her new bike squealed, as the biker drove out of her house, and down the road, eager to see what else this day had in store for her.

Thanks a lot for this. It was really nice!

[luxmaeastra]

//Cahir and Cirah use their false identities Jordan and Lidia interchangeabably//

Cahir slowly woke, he coughed, spitting blood. His vision swam, his senses forcing him up. He swung his legs up and over the bed aiming for the table with one hand. The other reached for the wires in his hand, they needed to be removed and -

"You're safe here."

He stilled turning to Sarai, his eyes narrowed. How had she hidden herself from his senses?

His fingers flexed on the table, he didn't get back into bed.

"Am I?"

Rhysand looked to his aunt giving her a nod before he dragged Lidia through the door. Cahir didn't react, simply watched as she was forced to her knees.

"Rhysand, that isn't what we -"

"I don't care, you better start talking Jordan, Cahir whatever your name is. Or you can watch as her throat gets slit."

Sarai hissed moving as Cahir simply rose an eyebrow and sat back down.

"Why would I say anything to save her life?"

Rhysand let her go, Jordan watched Lidia on the ground. She didn't move, didn't react as he tried desperately and silently to tell her to stand. He looked to Rhysand, to the blade in his hand.

His lip curled and he crossed his legs.

"You break her? She's even more useless now."

Rhysand cast him a dark look.

"She used my brother, what did she think what was -"

"You didn't."

Sarai's words cut through the tension. She looked to Lidia, a pain in her eyes. Her hands clenched at her sides and she shoved Rhysand aside.

"You are exactly like your father, all brash actions and having the rest of us clean up your messes. Lidia?"

Sarai knelt before her, touching her arm. Lidia eyes remained vacant. Jordan felt his panic rising, but no - no he refused to think she broke so easily. So he'd play the game - she would hate if he folded now.

"Right, what does the female have to do with me?"

"She showed your face a lot. Seems like she likes having many males to use."

He sneered at him, ignoring his aunt Sarai's barb for the time being.

"Oh? Well I'm flattered but -"

"Cirah? Cirah, don't do -."

They both turned to see Lidia weilding the knife Rhysand must have dropped or set somewhere else. She angled it at her own throat, he lunged to his feet hissing as he felt Rhysand's magic hold him back.

Lidia didn't look at him, she stared at Sarai.

"Children are dying Sarai. I know you did what you thought best. To save the many by sacrificing by the few. But they need help, we need help. Achlys was a tyrant but Mab?"

She exhaled looking to the knife, her eyes finally meeting his. Wide and luminous, and panicked. She was out of options, she would rather die than be tortured it given to Mab.

"Death is preferable to being under her thumb."

She looked back to Sarai slowly lowering her blade and holding it out hilt first to her.

"Help us, please if you take a stand the others will listen. The Daglan will follow their Queen."

Sarai's lips thinned but she took the blade shoving it across the floor away from them. Cahir eyed it not moving as Rhysand's magic tightened.

"I am not their Queen. They never accepted -"

"They will now."

Jordan rolled his shoulders back, but the mask fell away as Sarai turned to him.

"Liam is sowing discontent. He ruled like his father did, like your grandfather did Sarai. It's only a matter of time before the Daglan demand a new leader to follow. That could be you, please we need help."

He inched around the table, he needed to get to Lidia. He needed to get to his mate before she did anything else reckless.

//For Sarai!!!//

They did not know what they were asking, they did not know the weight or the toll of such an ask. Her uncle was a male of mystery to her, but she knew the stories and she knew her grandfather. Her parents had not hidden things from her or her sister.

Would she withstand the weight of the crown of being the Queen of the Dalgan. Was that not what what corrupted her uncle and grandfather?

"And how can you be sure they would follow me? I am not pure Dalgan, it is not a secret I hide. And I mated probably someone they would never approve of, but he is still my mate and I won't change that for the world."

It was also still something she would want to discuss with Viren, something they both would need to be on the same page. She reached out down their bond, tugging gentle on his.

Sarai looked towards the pair of them. "And you're not the only one forcing my hand in this..."

No, not since her daughters have all taken some interest in this war. Each had left to do their parent, as had some of Beron's children as well...And Natalia's and Sebastian's.

"I would need to speak to Viren."

[nocrumbsonmyjewellery]

thinking about objects for nostalgic adornment.

i was getting caught. i grew excited about the knife, the seedpod and the fossil, their connections in my mind and visually, their place in the world, then realising they had little technical relation to my idea. i was feeling stuck in my original idea that these objects must be those found at a beach, collected and pocketed on a rainy day. but, the whole point of design is that it evolves, and if i'm excited about this avenue it ought to be explored.

the above objects were gathered from around my home, where they've sat since they were given, made or came home, in pocket or hand. each one has importance to me, though it is only i who could see that. i thought i might write a little description for them, one by one.

the knife brooch - one of my mums keepsakes from her and my dads time abroad. when they were in their mid twenties, after saving for years, they sold nearly everything they had and took off traveling for as long as they could. as long as they could, turned out to be about two and a half years, living off a frugal ten pound a day with any excess going towards a box of wine at the end of the week, or trinkets, like this one.

bridesmaid necklace - my parents married after 14 years together when i was 10 months old. as freshly emigrated englishman they got married at a local beach, of course, on new years eve (dad says this is so he could always remember the date, to keep him out of trouble on anniversaries). the blooming pohutukawa trees matched the red of mums wedding dress, handmade by grandma, and my dads button up, bought from farmers, most likely. i remember nothing of the day, having been only 10 months old, but the photos live on as memories, as well as the carved shell necklace i wore as a bridesmaid, along my two older cousins. a talisman of a special day.

purple shell - this is one of the first shells i can remember being fascinated by as a child. anytime we visited bethels growing up, my pockets came home with a good few of these and ramshorn shells. (really they're the vertèbre of a type of squid, so not shells at all, but lovely all the same) they have decorated my room for many a year.

hagstone - this one's story has already been told.

citrine crystal - i believe i got this from a sandbag at crystal mountain. i was attached to it from the get go, and carried it around with me for the rest of the day. family was over from the uk, so we were out seeing the sights. after a visiting par homestead, we were pulling out from the carpark when i realized i didn't have it. dad begrudgingly allowed me to run back inside and look for it, luckily it was waiting were i left it. i've not lost it since.

fossil - i have always collected rocks, stones and shells, as you can likely tell by now, but i went through a short faze of fossil love too. this was bought from a side of the road market, sold by a couple of rock hounds making their way around australia. they were a fascinating pair, and gained a good chunk of my pocket money that day.

geode - one christmas, dad bought me a few geode rocks. together we smashed them open with a hammer, to find what sort of crystal made have been hiding within. i still love them.

baby's breath - mum bought this for me to wear in my hair at my first school ball. there ended up being a power cut part way through the evening when i and near everyone else from our school was getting ready, to everybody’s horror and amusement. believe it or not getting ready in the dark was a lot harder, and I forgot a few things, this being one of them. so i didn't end up wearing it that year, but it has sat dried in a jar as a memento either way. it would have matched the flowers in the corsage bought by ethan, who i went to ball with a year or so before we got together. he had asked, and i'd said yes, under the promise that it was only as friends. he obviously didn't pay any attention. i'm glad of that now.

ring - this is the first ring i ever made for my partner, given on our first anniversary. i had been in uni for maybe a month, which is very much reflected in its craftsmanship. alas, he loved it all the same, at the time it was one of my most advanced pieces. it marks a beginning in many senses.

a lucky life, really.

[theveryworstthing]

So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.

The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class.  I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.

I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.

Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.

10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.

The Parents

From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.

Or while it was still bleeding.

If she was into that.

Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.

Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.

And he always gets his due.

He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.

Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~

Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.

Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.

This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.

Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?

Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.

Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.

What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.

Mortesha would know.

The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.

Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.

The Children

Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.

Anyway.

Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!

Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.

Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got  natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.

I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace.  I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.

Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.

She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.

Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.  

That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.

Annnnyway.  This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Helping Billy and Stu on their murder spree would include~

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(This might not be exactly what you were expecting but I hope you enjoy it anyways! Sorry it took me longer than expected!)

- Wrong. That was the best way to describe your relationship with Billy and Stu: wrong, fucked up, and dangerous …but you couldn’t deny the fact that it was exciting. 

- You were no saint. That was a fact you’d come to terms with a while ago. You were no saint but you certainly weren’t a killer; at least not when all of this started. No, back then, you were just a really, really bad girlfriend.

- Truth be told: you weren’t single when you’d gotten involved with the boys, though, to be fair, neither were they; not that that made things any better.

- You’d had a boyfriend, a boyfriend you’d once really cared about, but somewhere along the line, you’d begun to have problems and instead of resolving them, you’d both chosen to ignore them and resent each other instead. Which is probably why it was so easy for you to fall into another boys arms; especially when they were as charming as Billy was or as sweet as Stu was.

- You’d always had a bit of a crush on Billy. The two of you’d been acquaintances ever since freshman year and for a while you sort of thought that you and him might get together. But then he started dating Sidney and you got asked out by your boyfriend and you just sort of tried to put the idea out of your head.

- Unbeknownst to you, the idea never left Billy’s head and he found himself plotting all the ways that he could make you his; all while finding out that his partner in crime was seemingly just as interested in you as he was.

- Stu ended up playing a crucial role in your “arrangement”. The two of you found yourselves made into lab partners and thusly, you were invited over to his place after school and later given the perfect excuse to spend time with him; and/or Billy, without causing suspicion.

- The first few times you go over to the Macher place, nothing of value happens. You do exactly what you’re supposed to: work, study, joke around a little and get a bit more comfortable being in each other’s presences. It’s a few study sessions in that you get a curveball thrown at you.

- It’s late one evening, Stu’s parents are out and you’re both studying on his living room floor when all of a sudden the doorbell rings. Stu gets up to answer it and who else would it be but Billy.

- Stu pretends to act surprised and tells the boy that he forgot they were going to hang out and that he’s studying with you. Billy assures him that it’s alright before Stu tells him to wait a second and reappears in the room, saying that he thinks the two of you have studied enough and that Billy’s got some horror movies that the three of you can watch if you’d like to stay and chill. How could you possibly refuse?

- And so, your makeshift friendship with the boys begin; a friendship which very quickly leads into something more once Billy decides the time is right to make a move.

- You obviously don’t expect it the first time it happens but you find yourself wanting more the minute it’s over.

- Sure, sometimes the guilt will kick in when you see Tatum and Sidney or when your boyfriend is being particularly sweet, but it never seems to be enough to stop you from coming over whenever they ask or letting them in whenever they knock on your door.

- But the longer the three of you keep up your affair, the more things you start to notice.

- Billy isn’t stupid. Regardless of how he feels about you, he isn’t going to jeopardize his whole plan by making one wrong move and trusting someone he shouldn’t have. He’ll take his time analyzing you, picking apart your every move and reaction until he’s sure that you’re the one.

- You’ll start to pick up on little things about your boys that some might consider weird: all the horror movies and Billy’s knowledge in them, strange questions, indecipherable looks, things like that.

- As Billy comes closer to making up his mind, more of the mask will slip; though not enough to scare you off or make you think that anything’s really wrong. More odd inquiries, questionable sexual activities, and Billy testing your loyalty; oftentimes by asking you to cover for him or Stu to see how far you’ll go for them.

- You might be asking what I mean by “questionable sexual activities”, well, Billy has, on more than one occasion, demanded that you only watch whatever gory film he’s put on instead of looking at him as he pleasures you. He watches you closely, muttering lowly in your ear about the movie and talking dirty as you lock your eyes on the screen.

- When the boys first confess to you about the murders, you don’t believe them. You think it’s a bad joke but once you see just how serious they are, your smile drops and you say “you’re serious aren’t you?”.

- It definitely takes you a while to get used to the fact, but you find yourself opening up to the idea more and more as Billy explains their motive and butters you up with his charming words.

- Your involvement starts with little things: patching them up when they’re hurt, analyzing horror movies, giving them ideas or intel and telling them what won’t work.

- Stu likes to bump your shoulder or ruffle your hair and call you smart whenever you offer up good advice. Billy is much more subtle in his praise but his reactions are usually the ones that make you want to help them more and more.

- The blonde enthusiastically recounts stories of their slayings to you, jumping around the room and making a bunch of noises and hand movements while he does so.

- The first time you mention that you’d like to help them “...more”, both their faces break out into shit eating grins. They don’t immediately hand you a mask, knife, and mission but they do start to ask more of you.

- Helping them hide evidence, giving them alibis, waiting outside of their crime scenes for them and helping them lure people right into their traps all becomes second nature to you.

- Then comes your initiation. 

- There’d always been some jealousy involved in your relationship; mainly on their parts. You had a boyfriend and they had girlfriends which meant all three of you had to; at some point, act all lovey dovey with your partners in front of the others, if only to keep up a façade. 

- But, as obvious as it was that none of you particularly cared for your significant others, that didn’t stop Billy or Stu from absolutely hating your boyfriends guts. This hatred would eventually play a key role in solidifying your role in their lives.

- Your parents aren’t home and you’re in your bedroom with the boys, doing exactly what one would assume you’d be doing, except, unlike all the other times you’d done “this”, your bedroom door swung open and revealed a very unexpected visitor: your boyfriend. 

- Maybe it was the pent up jealousy or the fear of his plan potentially being ruined or maybe it was a little bit of both but when the boy immediately began to just book it towards your front door, Billy followed after him. 

- By the time you make it out into the hall, Stu has him held in place and Billy is turning to look at you, telling you to “come on” as they walk the boy into your kitchen. 

- Once you get there, Billy pulls a knife from the block and walks up to you, telling you that you said you wanted to be a part of things and that now's your chance.

“Go on.” He says, nodding his head back towards the boy who Stu’s restraining and watching you closely as you slowly take the knife from his hands. Stu’s grinning excitedly as you approach him, cheering you on while Billy remains silent behind you. 

- The blonde whoops and hollers as you cut into the boy, audibly expressing his pride in you, and when you turn to look back at Billy, he’s got a tiny little smile pulling at his lips, showing that you’ve just proven yourself and done exactly what he wanted. 

- The brunette locks eyes with you before he walks up and wraps his arms around you, pulling you back against his chest and tilting your head down to look at the boy who’s currently bleeding out on your kitchen floor. “Would you look at that.” He says and you can hear the smile in his voice as he says it, his hand trailing up to grope at your chest as he stares down at the gory sight before you.

- There’s no going back after that. You’re now officially one of them and get your very own father death costume. 

- It’s perfect really. More hands, more confusion for the police, more bloody sex.  

- Billy gets turned on by the sight of blood and the adrenaline that he feels after a kill; and Stu has never been one to turn down sex, so don’t be surprised if you end up pressed against the floorboards of a victims house or thrown on one of their beds the minute the three of you get back to their house. 

- You and Billy tend to make the plans while Stu just goes along with whatever you say. 

- Helping them get Neil Prescott.

- Going along with Stu while Billy talks on the phone. 

- The two of them both baby and yell at you. They tend to do most of the dirty work because they think you can’t handle it but at the same time they; namely Billy, will get angry if you mess anything up in the slightest. The brunette will yell or insult you because he’s a control freak and wants everything to go exactly as he planned. 

- On the drive/walk home, you’ll stay quiet, wondering if maybe you’ve made a very severe mistake when deciding to be with the boys. But then Billy will grab your arm and pull you into a kiss, asking if you’re alright and apologizing so sweetly and for better or for worse, you’ll fall right back in again. 

[mrfutureboy]

May I ask for some Trans Marty headcanons 👉👈🥺 (only if you want to ofc)

hi anon! for sure!

tho honestly im not sure i have many that are my own?? there are so many people in the fandom that spend more time thinking (in general) and that have come up with some amazing headcanons that i subscribe to so admittedly i havent spent as much time thinking up hc’s myself! well, maybe this isnt true in the case of marlene mcfly but this post isnt about her lol. so mostly this’ll probably end up being a list of things other people have said/pointed out. that said, if i mention a hc thats yours just be like “hey thats from my post!” and i’ll link u because i honestly cant remember who said what anymore

edit: added links to op’s of various hcs

so first of all, his layers. layers on layers on layers to hide the shape of his body is so trans masc of him. this is literally canon so it doesnt even count. (x, x)

but i’ll quickly mention some other things people have pointed out that are supported by canon: everyone calling him “mcfly” instead of his first name, twin pines lorraine not liking jennifer for no real reason except maybe thinking marty shouldnt be dating a girl at all (x)

i have NO idea what hrt was like in the 80s, if it were even available at all, but i like the hc that doc brews up some homemade testosterone for his good pal marty (x) man of all sciences, right? honestly doc was probably already making t for himself (trans doc ftw) and then marty came out to him and he was like i have just the thing.

going off that, doc probably helps him with his shots bc i think marty’s a big baby when it comes to needles.

again, resources in the 1980’s are not something i know about but given the climate and technology i doubt there was an extensive handbook on transmasculinity and safely binding. so marty’s methods of binding were probably not very safe, in terms of what he used and how long he wore it. tho @rovermcfly’s recent post about mjf’s harness looking like a binder (x)could support a hc that doc made marty a binder. as his friend and an elder trans guy you know he’s looking out for him. but when marty’s not binding…layers on layers on layers. side note i would hope marty wasnt wearing a binder when he got to 1955 cuz oh GOD he wouldve been wearing that for way too fucking long and with everything that physically happened to him in the first like 12 hrs of him being there he’d surely have some lasting damage

this is mostly a joke hc but marty comes to doc one day and is complaining about his chest while doc’s working on something, and towards the end of marty’s rant doc turns around holding up a knife and martys like whoa uhh im not so sure about that, doc and doc just turns back around. this doesnt ever happen again or get brought up so marty’s not sure if doc was kidding or not. also makes marty wonder if he’d done it before (doc’s got a flat chest after all) and then he starts looking around for stray squirrels with stitches a la frankensteins monster lol

i like @rovermcfly ‘s hc that marty saw “martin seamus” in his family tree and was like yep thats my name (x) which honestly fits really well with canon like how are you going to name ur first son david tiberius, ur daughter linda [no middlename], but then when you get to your third kid suddenly be like “lets do a really traditional family name”. Unlikely.

marty probably came out to doc first. doc quickly made him feel safe and loved and comfortable so yeah i can imagine doc knew before anyone else. and then jennifer and then lastly (maybe accidentally) his parents

Lorraine probably had a fucking conniption when marty first cut all his hair off. also i hate to say it but i feel like she was the least supportive parent (not that george was raving about it) in the twin pines timeline. all im going to say about lone pine lorraine here is that she came around faster (or at least started to) than her counterpart, my justification being the breakfast scene at the end of the movie compared to the dinner scene earlier re: jennifer

personally i dont feel like marty’s been out for longer than a few years but idk thats just a gut feeling i dont have anything else to say abt that

Umm yeah thats all i have to say atm! Thank u anon for the ask :3 and again, if anyone recognizes any posts ive referenced, please @ me so i can link them here!

[walkerwords]

“Hold On” Rick Grimes & Daughter!Reader

GIF CREDIT: http://gph.is/2yDy2U6

Request from @joelsheartache:  I'd like to request a Rick x daughter!reader. The reader it shot instead of Olivia, but instead of a head shot it's in her abdomen but the shot is still fatal. Rick tries to stop the blood flow and says things along the lines of "You're gonna be okay, baby girl! You just have to focus on me! No, no, y/n, keep your eyes open!" You can decide if she lives or not! This may not be the best request, but I really liked the idea!

Word Count: 3635

Warning: Major Angst

Song I Wrote To: “Hold On” by Chord Overstreet

Note: Oof this was a request that I was both excited and stressed to write. I hope you like it

------

When you discovered your brother was missing, you knew exactly where he had gone. 

You knew Carl wanted to kill Negan and you knew that he had been becoming more reckless since everything had happened at Terminus. Then, when Negan had killed Glenn and Abraham in front of him, Michonne had told you that something had shifted in your younger brother’s eyes.

You hadn’t been there when the Saviors had taken your people and killed your friends, but when they had returned and your father, Rick, came to find you, he hadn’t hesitated to take you in his arms and make sure that you were still there, that you were still alive. 

You were his eldest and whenever he wasn’t home, you were the one who wanted to look after your little sister. However, seeing how broken they all looked, a part of you wished you would have been there. Maybe you would have been able to stop Negan or at least stop him from taking Daryl. 

Living with Negan’s boot on your necks was horrible. Every day you woke up and you didn’t know what was going to happen. While you were used to that due to the new world, this was a new kind of danger and one your father was determined to keep you and your siblings from. 

That is until Carl decided to go all lone-wolf and test your patience.

The next time you saw your brother he was being led back through Alexandria by Negan himself. You were helping Gabriel in the pantry when they had arrived. Rage entered your chest as you saw the murderer walking alongside Carl, but when you saw where they were headed, that was when you nearly ran after them. However, Gabriel had grabbed your arm, shaking his head. 

“Don’t,” he whispered. “Remember what Rick said. Carl won’t let him hurt her and I don’t believe Negan would harm a child.” 

“He threatened to make my dad cut off his own son’s arm, Father,” you spat, staring after them. 

“But he didn’t and I don’t know what happened with Carl, but he is still alive and looks unharmed. We have to trust that he will be safe.” You pushed away from him.

“Nobody is safe anymore,” you had told him, “and if he touches a hair on Judith’s head, I’m going to kill him.” 

The rule that your dad had given you was simple: don’t let people know you were his daughter. At least, not his enemies’. You looked more like your grandparents than your parents and your Uncle Shane had once said that you could pass for Lori’s sister rather than her daughter which had come in handy at times.

Especially when Gareth hadn’t targeted you when he had attacked the church and so you were able to get a jump on him before your father had brought the machete down. 

You kept out of Negan’s way for as long as possible until the moment arrived when Spencer Monroe decided to make an appearance. You never liked Spencer, nobody in your family did. He was proud, arrogant, and he had been stuck in Alexandria for way too long. He was a child trying to be a man and you were done with his high and mighty attitude. 

When the moron had invited Negan to drink and play pool out in the street, that was when you had finally approached him and the others. Your brother was standing on the porch next to Olivia when you walked over. His eyes met yours and he shook his head, but you ignored him, planting yourself on the grass below him, crossing your arms. 

You watched as Spencer tried to convince Negan to work alongside him instead of your father and you had to keep reminding yourself to stay calm. Rick and Aaron were on their way back. It was only a matter of time before they came home. You knew that was what Negan was waiting for, the opportunity to rub it in your dad’s face that Carl had been returned safely. 

As you thought about all the ways you could potentially slit Negan’s throat, a cry of alarm brought you out of your thoughts. Looking up, you saw Spencer hunched over and in Negan’s hand was a blade dripping in blood. He was smiling as Spencer’s guts spilled from his abdomen. Monroe collapsed to the ground as his intestines slipped through his fingers.

Negan went to make some kind of speech when Rosita pulled a gun from the back of her pants. You barely had a second to stop her before she aimed and fired at Negan. You froze, waiting for his body to drop, but the bullet had hit his bat instead. 

“Shit! What the shit!” Negan bellowed as Rosita looked at him in utter shock. The next second, one of Negan’s lieutenants slammed Rosita into the pavement, holding her down by her throat. “Shit! You just‒ You tried to kill me!? You shot Lucille!” he screamed. Rosita sneered at him from the ground. 

“She got in the way,” she growled. Negan, fuming, turned Lucille to observe the slug that now marred her smooth surface.

“What is this? What is this? This little bad boy made from scratch? Look at those crimps. This was homemade. You may be stupid, darlin', but you showed some real ingenuity here,” Negan spat and then gestured to the woman that held your friend down. “Arat, move that knife up on that girl's face.” Rosita squirmed under Arat, but held her tongue. “Lucille's beautiful, smooth surface is never gonna look the same, so why should yours?! Unless... Unless you tell me who made this.”

“It was me!” Rosita yelled from the ground. “I made it.”

“You see, now I just think you're lying. And you lying to me now? Such a shame. Arat's gonna have to cut up that pretty face,” Arat pressed the knife against Rosita’s cheek. “One more try.” Rosita remained silent.

“Oh! You are such a badass! Fine. Have it your way. Arat…, Negan paused as he lazily looked around the group that had gathered. “Kill somebody,” he finished and Rosita yelled, trying to shove Arat off of her. 

“No. It was me!” she tried again, but it was too late. In a single move, Arat spun on her knee, pulled her gun, and squeezed the trigger.

The next thing you heard wasn’t the gunshot, but the sound of your younger brother screaming as heat rushed into your abdomen.

-------

“No!” Carl screamed and Olivia watched in horror as you collapsed to the ground. 

Carl vaulted over the railing and slid to your side. “Oh god,” he said, trying to figure out where to put his hands, but there was already too much blood. You stared up at him, trying to figure why he looked so stressed, and when you looked down at yourself and saw the blood, the wound, terror entered your mind.

Not like this. 

From down the road came two people, running as fast as they could. Rick nearly dragged Aaron who looked to be beaten. When Rick had gotten to the group, both Tobin and Eugene tried to stop him.

“Rick, stop!” Gabriel said, trying to hide you from view. Rick pushed against the men that held him, handing Aaron over to Tara and Scott. When Gabriel tried to stop him again, Rick shoved him out of the way. 

And then, he saw you. 

It was like Lori all over again. He walked forward before his knees gave out and Tobin had to catch him again. Carl looked up at his father, tears already flowing from his left eye. “No!” Rick cried, agony soaking his voice. 

“Damn!” Negan said, “someone was popular.” 

“She’s Rick’s daughter!” Rosita snapped at Negan, getting her voice back as the cut on her face bled. Lucille went from his shoulder to down by his side in a single movement at her words and then Negan took a step back, his face full of shock. 

Rick nearly crawled to you, forcing himself to be by your side. His eyes widened as he took in your condition. You knew what he was seeing, there was too much blood. There wasn’t anything anyone could do. Rick was shaking as he knelt in the grass.  “No, no, no, dammit, please (Y/N), not like this, sweetheart,” Rick pleaded. 

“(Y/N),” Carl choked out, trying to get you to look at him. 

“No, I promised her,” Rick cried. “I promised Lori I would keep you safe! All three of you, I was supposed to protect all three of you…” Weak, you reached for your dad, sliding your hand up his face to feel the stubble that you loved so much. Blood smeared along his cheek as you tried to memorize the feel.

“It’s okay,” you whispered. 

“She’s only seventeen!” Gabriel hollered, turning his attention to Negan. You were only a year and a half older than Carl and while the two of you had grown up together, you had always felt responsible for him and now as you began to not feel the pain, all you could think of was how you didn’t want to leave him. 

“Dammit, Arat! What the fuck!” Negan yelled, approaching her. 

“You said to kill someone,” Arat argued, but Negan wasn’t hearing it. He grabbed her by her arm and hauled her up. 

“Not a fucking kid,” Negan snarled and then he threw her to his men. “Take her back to the Sanctuary. I’ll deal with her later.” As Saviors took care of their comrade, Negan turned back to you and your family.

Your father was leaning over you, brushing the hair from your face. Lifting your hand towards your brother, you ran it along the side of his face. Carl leaned into your touch, his best friend. You tried to wipe the tears that flowed down his cheek, but you could barely keep your arm up.

“You’re gonna be okay,” your dad said, pressing a firm kiss to the back of your hand, but you were shaking your head. 

“No, I’m not,” you said with a weak cough. “I’m so sorry dad,” you told him, tears falling from your own eyes. “I promised not... to go… near him.”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Rick said. “Don’t apologize.” You began to cry more as the coldness seeped into your limbs. 

“Dad,” you whispered, “daddy, don’t let me...don’t let me turn.” Rick’s eyes closed as his sobs took over him. “Promise me,” you finished. 

“I promise, but you have to keep your eyes open for me. Don’t give up...” Rick pleaded and then you looked at your brother, your breathing labored as you mustered up the strength to look him in the eye. 

“Tell Judith...Carl, you need to tell her…” you tried to finish, but Carl was already nodding. 

“I will, (Y/N/N), I’ll tell her,” Carl promised.

“I love you both so much,” you said. “Michonne and Carol too and...Greene,” you said, not wanting to say Maggie’s name, not even then. “Tell them please.”

“We will,” Rick promised. “I love you so much.”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” Carl cried. “I’m sorry I snuck out to go there.” You shook your head, silently begging him to not blame himself. “I love you.” You squeezed your eyes shut as you nodded quickly.

You didn’t try to stop the tears now as they came at full force. You had thought about dying since the beginning of the outbreak. It was hard not too. You had seen so much death already, but you never imagined this is how you would meet your end. 

With a deep breath, you turned your eyes to Negan, the only person who would be able to deliver your final message. Negan looked at you, bleeding and broken and he wanted to look away, but couldn’t.

“You,” you said hoarsely, “you need to tell Daryl that I meant it. Tell him I meant it. He’ll know,” you said and then with a cough, blood sprayed from your lips. As you stared up at the sky, your father turned his eyes to his enemy and they were as empty as he felt. 

Negan’s eyes went from your father’s face to the hatchet at Rick’s hip. His hand curled around the handle, red entering those bright blue eyes of his. Negan looked as if he wanted to say something, but seeing Grimes leaning over his dying child had shut him up immediately. 

Your father and brother held onto you as you lay in the grass of the front yard. There had been times that you thought you were going to die. The first time was when the farm was overrun, the second was when a Walker had nearly killed you while you were out on a run with Daryl at the prison, and the last time had been at Terminus. 

You thought you would be ready, but you weren’t. You didn’t want to die and you just knew that your father would stop at nothing to avenge your death and that was something that you dreaded, but you also knew nothing would stop him. Not Michonne, not Carl, and not even himself. 

Your grip loosened on your father and brother as you grew more tired. You didn’t know what would be on the other side. Perhaps there wasn’t anything anymore, but there was one person you were hoping to see and that was your mother. 

All you wanted was your mom. 

As darkness filled your vision, you imagined Lori reaching her hand toward you and with a small smile, you took your final breath. 

------

Tara was the first one to crumble. 

“(Y/N)!” she cried as Eugene caught hold of her, keeping her upright. Your best friend tried to get to you, but Porter made sure to keep her steady and in his arms. Rosita cried on the ground, guilt wracking her body as Gabriel stood by, saying a silent prayer for you. Carl stared down at you, your vacant eyes pointed at the heavens. He gently reached over and closed them, brushing his hand across your face. 

“Rick,” Negan tried, but Grimes was frozen in shock. Instead, Carl was the one to answer the killer before him. Carl stood and slowly faced Negan, creating a barrier between you and the enemy. 

“You killed my sister,” Carl said, tilting his head that was very much his father. Negan tried to speak, but Carl shook his head.  “Get out, Negan,” Carl said between his teeth, his hand reaching for a gun that wasn’t there, “before I do kill you and trust me I’ll do it with my bare hands.”

The look on the teen’s face told him everything he needed to know, but before Negan could react, Michonne came running down the street, her katana swinging behind her back. 

Everyone stepped aside as she ran towards you and her family. When she saw your body, Michonne’s eyes widened and then she ran to your side. “Oh, my girl,” Michonne said, gently, laying her shaking hand over your heart tears springing up behind her dark eyes.

Rick didn’t say anything as he reached over and took Michonne’s other hand, something he never did in front of outsiders. Michonne turned to the man she loved and pressed a kiss to his head as he leaned into her. 

Then, because he knew that there wasn’t an infinite amount of time, Rick drew his knife, turning it over in his hand. Michonne lowered the blade, not wanting him to do it. He didn’t need to be the one to do it. Instead, Aaron staggered forward and opened his palm, ready to take the burden from the Grimes’ family just as they would do for him. 

Michonne passed the knife to their friend as he kneeled down and turned your head to the side. Michonne buried her head into Rick’s shoulder as Aaron severed your brainstem and shoved the blade into your skull, placing you at rest for a final time. 

Carl continued to act as a barrier between you and the Saviors, allowing your father and the woman who had become like a mother to you, say goodbye. Carl, who was still crying, never wavered. 

“We’re leaving,” Negan announced and slowly the Saviors turned on their heels and walked back down the road, but not before Negan plunged his knife into Spencer’s skull, finishing him as he had begun moving once again. 

Scott, Tobin, and a grief-stricken Tara followed the Saviors out of Alexandria, slamming the gate behind them. In the distance, Tara could hear the wails of Rick, Carl, and Michonne as they cried for their daughter and sister who was stolen from them.

-----

It was well into the evening when you and Spencer were buried. 

It was agreed that Spencer would be buried next to Deanna and you, next to the flower bed. A part of Rick wished he could have taken your body to Hilltop to bury you with Glenn, but he knew he had to keep Maggie safe and not draw attention to the other community. 

Rosita had taken a car with Eugene to inform Maggie, Sasha, and Jesus of what had happened to you. Rick knew how much Maggie loved you and he dreaded to know how she reacted to the news. 

In the light of the moon, Carl, Michonne, and Rick knelt at your grave. Judith sat nearby, unaware that her sister was now gone forever. In her small hands was a bracelet that you had always worn, one she liked to play with. Carl had given it to her just before Gabriel had helped lower you into the ground. 

It was silent before commotion drew the Grimes’ family out of their thoughts. From behind a house, Tara appeared, out of breath with wide eyes.

“What is it?” Michonne asked, but Tara was just shaking her head. Rick and Michonne glanced at each other before getting to their feet and following Tara who was gesturing them to follow her. 

Carl stayed with Judith while Rick and Michonne made their way to the gate. What they saw, or rather, who, had Rick running at top speed. Leaning against Eric, bloody and beaten, but alive, was Daryl.

Rick ran to him, halting right before he plowed into the archer. Daryl squeezed Eric’s arm and promised him that he was good. Eric nodded and then left the brothers alone. “Daryl?” Rick asked, completely in shock. 

“Son of a bitch let me go,” Daryl explained, shaking his dirty hair out of his face. “Just walked into my cell, dragged me out, threw me in a truck, and dropped me a half mile that way,” he said, pointing over his shoulder.

Rick was trying to understand Negan’s reasoning, but all he could think about was the fact that Daryl was home and no longer in his enemies clutches. “He lyin’ about (Y/N)?” Daryl asked and Rick shook his head. 

Daryl didn’t hesitate any longer. He walked forward and took his brother into his arms. Rick collapsed against him, careful of his injuries. He clutched at Daryl’s back as the latter shook from emotion as well.

Daryl remembered when he had first met you. You were strong for a kid who had just seen the world burn and he liked you immediately. Then, you had met Beth on the farm and the two of you had been inseparable. He remembered how broken you were after her death and how you worked to overcome it, getting closer to Tara and your brother. 

He couldn’t even begin to imagine you lying in the ground, still and cold. Michonne approached Daryl next and kissed him on the cheek as he held her, feeling her grief as well. The three warriors leaned on each other as they felt your loss and then, eventually, Daryl needed to see you.

-----

Michonne and Carl gave Daryl and Rick a moment by your grave. There was a simple marker and the necklace you always wore, a gift from Shane, was looped around the top of the cross for now. Rick was planning on giving it to Judith when she was older. 

“What did she mean?” Rick said, breaking the silence. “(Y/N), she told Negan to tell you that ‘she meant it’. What did she mean?” Daryl sighed, rubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw. 

“She once told me that she wanted me to fight,” Daryl explained. “It was after Beth and I told her about my old man.” Rick nodded, knowing the story of Will Dixon and what the bastard had done to Daryl as well as Merle. “I was doubtin’ myself, I didn’t think I could protect anyone again after I lost her. She believed I was a better man than my dad. I guess she really meant it.” 

Daryl chewed on his thumb as he looked at the grave, willing himself not to cry. “She was about to be eighteen,” Rick said. 

“Born in the winter, right?” Daryl remembered and Rick nodded. “Yeah, Lori mentioned that once.” 

“I’m gonna kill him,” Rick said after a moment, his eyes on the night sky. 

“No more waitin’, man,” Daryl said. “We gotta fight and we gotta fight for her just as she was willin’ to fight for Glenn, Abraham, Beth, and every other damn person we’ve lost.”

Rick nodded and then Daryl offered his hand to his best friend. Rick gripped it tight. He made a silent promise to you then just as he had to Lori as she died, he wasn’t going to let them win and he wasn’t going to let the world take any more of his family. 

“We kill them all,” said Rick, “and Negan is mine.” 

TAGS:  @thanossexual @yes-sir-hotchner  @felicisimor @amaroho

[stayatiny]

The King ~Chapter Seven

(Gif made by me)

Pairing(s) King!Werewolf! Bang Chan x Human!Reader

Series Warning(s) – Swearing, Violence, Wolf Dynamics, Smut (in later chapters) and along with others that will be added later.

Chapter warning(s) – Swearing, Violence, biting/marking, blood/gore, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up kids!), virgin!reader

A/N - Finally to the good stuff. I have decided that there will be one more chapter of this series. Thank you everyone for the likes, follows, and the reblogs. I hope you enjoy. =^_^=

I head back to the bedroom to wake up Y/N, I open the door to see that she isn’t there. Her phone was on the nightstand charging. She must have forgot to charge it last night. I knock on the bathroom door. When I didn’t hear anything, I open the door to see nothing. I frown slightly.

I look over at her phone and checking the ground for her purse. When I didn’t see it, my heart began to race. She didn’t tell anyone if she as going anywhere and usually, she does. I picked up her phone it was still on the last person she messaged. My body froze in place as I saw who was messaging her. Eric Kim. I threw her phone onto the bed then running out of the room. I need to stop her before she gets hurt.

When I wake, there is a blindfold over my eyes and my wrists are bound.

“Oh, you’re awake Y/N. I was starting to think that I gave you too much,” Eric says taking off the blindfold. I try to bite at his hand as it passed by. He slaps the hell out of me. I groan as I glare at him.

“None of that now. Your King should be here to rescue you at any moment and when he does, I will complete my parents work.” I looked at him questioningly.

“What do you mean?” His smiles with sinister meaning. He turns to me and kneels before me. He places his hands on my thighs. I try to squirm away from him.

“Oh sweetie. Do you think your parents would kill their closes friends? My parents told them that if they didn’t want their little girl to die at the hands of a wolf or by me. They would do their bidding for my parents. I do have to admit, you are a strong one. I never actually thought that you would get close with the king again let alone get with him. I do feel sorry for you. He is nothing more than a player,” he explains still holding onto my legs.

“Why do you want them dead so badly?” Eric smiled moving his hands to my waist.

“Because if they were all dead my family would have been chosen to rule the kingdom and then I would have made you, my wife. But your parents wanted you to be Chris’ bride. I could have given you everything your little heart desired,” he says then leaning up kissing me hard. I immediately bit his bottom lip.

“How did you know that I like biting?” He smiles touching his lip blood running down his fingers.

“Don’t worry I’ll be sure to mark you when I know that your little boyfriend is dead. You’ll be mine.” Eric leans down again trying to kiss me.

“You motherfucker!” I tried kicking him, but he grabbed my legs to keep me from trying again. He punches me knocking me over onto my side. I landed hard on my shoulder and arm. I growl trying to kick him again. He stomped and kicked my ribs and legs.

“If you do that again, I’ll fucking kill you.” He steps on my head putting light pressure. I growl again as he lets go of my head. He punched my face one last time then heading out the door locking it. So, fuck him. I struggle with the binds when I hear yelling a screaming upstairs. I was able to move my arms from behind my back to the front. I tried to gnaw at the rope with my teeth but jumped when I see Jay open the door. I nearly start to cry.

“Y/N, we need to get you out of here,” he says helping me up. He cut the ropes with a knife from his pocket. The screaming got louder as we got close to the stairs.

“What’s going on?” Jay grabbed my hands pulling me up the stairs. I turned to look. I see Chris in his wolf form. He’s tearing others limb from limb. My body began to shake. Felix covered my eyes turning me away from the scene of blood.

“No don’t look Y/N.” Jay pulls me along the hallway the smell of blood overwhelming. He uncovers my eyes and pushes me between a table and a vase that could conceal me. I hear yelling up ahead of us calling for Jay.

“Damn it. Stay here. I have to go help some of the others really quick. I’ll be back for you,” he says putting his jacket over my shoulders. I shake my head.

“N-no don’t leave me, Jay. Please.” I beg. Jay hugs me tightly and kisses my head. He places his jacket around my shoulders, seeing that my t-shirt is hanging on by threads.

“You’ll be okay. Just stay here.” He ran off shedding his human form. I slumped against the wall waiting for the others to come back for me. Its only been a few minutes but I decided to get up and find one of the guys. It’s too dangerous to be here alone. But I made a mistake.

“What are you doing here?” That voice. Eric came around the corner and grabbed my arms. I whine my body starting to feel sore from the drugs he had given me and falling over on my shoulder. I hear a howl from down the hall. It was the loudest one I’ve ever heard. I turn and see the black wolf with bright blue eyes. Eric put a knife to my throat staring at the wolf.

“Chris, come any closer to me and I’ll gut her like a fish.” He stood down but only a little bit. I tried to pull away from him but only for Eric to hold the knife tighter.

“Now turn back into your human form and let’s talk about this like men.” Chris stayed as a wolf. I gathered the strength and shoved the knife away from my neck. Before Eric could stab me, Chris jumped on him ripping him apart. I hide my face trying not to listen to the squelch of blood. I continued to hide my face even when I feel someone pick me up.

“Y/N, you can open your eyes now. Its over.” Chris’ voice soothing me. I wrap my arms around his neck, sobbing. He carries me out to the courtyard of the Kim Mansion. I finally look at Chris. His face stoic and eyes ready to kill.

“Your majesty? What do you want to do with the rest of the family,” Felix asked. Chris looked down at my bruised face, arms, and ribs.

“Kill them,” he says, no tone, no remorse. He carried me away and back to the castle. Chris placed me onto his bed.

“Let me see your face.” I slowly looked up at Chris. He kissed me slipping his tongue past my lips. I groan, wrapping my arms around his neck. He pulls away then back to kissing my neck. I tried to stop him from going further.

“Be mine?” I couldn’t even think straight, and I just agreed. I nodded my head.

“No, I need you to say it,” he said, tearing off what’s left of my shirt.

“Mark me, please.” He wasted no time digging his teeth into my neck. He presses me down into the bed while I moan loudly. I grab at Chris’ shirt pulling it over his head. He leans up staring at my body. He tears off my bra leaving my chest bare. I blush a bright red and try to cover my body.

“No don’t. You’re fucking beautiful. I want you to be mine and no one else. I love you. I’ve always been in love with you.” I grab his face kissing him pushing my tongue into his mouth. He groans this time. I needed him now. My core throbbing at the thought of his cock inside me.

“Lay down, Y/N. I need to taste you.” I do as I’m told then he pulls down my pants with my underwear with it. I tried to cover my core from his stare, but he smacks my hands away.

“You’re beautiful.” He smiles then sucking my clit I between his lips. I moan almost screaming. His tongue started to flick my bud rapidly. I put my hands into his hair slightly tugging. That’s when his finger started to slip into my wet hole. I gasp grabbing his hair tighter.

“Chris, I need to cum, please.” He pulls his mouth away from my core. I let out a whine.

“No not yet.” Chris gets off the bed. He unbuckles his pants slipping them off. I lick my lips as his cock bounces up hitting his belly.

“Like what you see?” I blush again looking away. Chris chuckles climbing back onto the bed. He leans down kissing me once again as he pulls my legs around his waist. He rubs his cock through my folds before I stopped him.

“What’s wrong?” I lay there to embarrassed to say anything again.

“What is it,” he then gets what I wanted to tell him, “We don’t have to do anything. I don’t want to pressure you into this.” I shook my head.

“No I want this. Please I want you.” He nods as he then slid his cock slowly into me. I groaned at the stretch and the feeling of being full.

“Ah fuck. You’re so tight,” he groans. He stays still letting me get use to his size. I nod letting him know that he could move. He almost pulls out all the way before driving back into me. I moan grabbing his sides. He pins my legs back watching his cock disappear inside of me. Chris drives even harder into as I moan his name.

“Please Chris, I need to cum,” I beg. He smirks pounding me even harder. His hand reaches down rubbing circles around my clit making the knot in my stomach tighten.

“Cum baby. Cum on my cock,” he growls. I scream out as I let go and cum. He stills inside of me letting his cum fill me. He collapses on me and remarks my neck with him still inside me. Chris leans up, pulling out of me. I feel him running down my legs. That’s when it hits him.

“Please tell me that you’re on the pill.” His eyes wide realizing what he did. I nod, body to weak to move. He let out a sigh of relief.

“Lets get you a hot bath,” Chris said, picking me up. He ran a bubble bath. He climbs into the tub with me.

“I love you,” he purs. I smile leaning my head onto his chest.

“I love you too.”

[wakaoujisenhime]

Just once - Choso x reader

Synopsis: At a party you get roped up by your classmate Momo to conduct a summoning ritual for a demon she assigns you. Though unwilling, you still comply and do as instructed. Unfortunately for you, the ritual you hoped to debunk as pure nonsense unexpectedly worked out...

tags/warnings: Choso x reader ✅ blood kink ✅ (slight) blood/knife play ✅ (and for the more sensitive readers a tw.) a more or less detailed description of skin being cut open ✅ more erotic than nsfw ✅

A/N: I just needed an excuse to write for my main man Choso and thanks to @seijorhi and her Deal with the Devil collab I found the opportunity! Please enjoy and make sure to check everyone else’s wonderful works out as well!! (〃ω〃)

.wc 5.4k

━━━━☆ ━━━━☆ ━━━━☆

Booming music, colorful and constantly changing LED lights, people who were either drunk or high, in some cases even both, surrounded you. Such a sight wasn’t unfamiliar to you since most university students celebrated their monthly parties in the same fashion. You weren’t a regular participant in these events, but tonight you just wanted to let loose and dance the stress, which had accumulated this past week, away.

After doing what you came for, you went up to the small bar, ordered a drink, and disappeared into the crowd to look for someone you were familiar with. And truly, you spotted two familiar faces in one of the gigantic room’s corners. The pair you were now walking towards consisted of Megumi and Momo. It was truly rare to see these two together let alone see them talking to each other while others surrounded them, but you figured that in such get-togethers nothing was impossible.

“Hi there you two, how are you doing?” you asked the moment you joined their small group. 

Megumi greeted you with a small nod and a rather tortured expression that was most likely supposed to represent a call for help, but before you could find out more about that, Momo took a hold of both of your hands and squeezed them slightly as she said: “(Y/N), you’ve got a perfect timing as always! We were just discussing our summoning plan and we needed one more participant, so pleaseee could you do us the favor and join us?”

To clear up your obvious confusion, the black-haired young man explained to you that the group, which surrounded you, had talked about the occult before they reached the topic of demon summoning rituals and eventually ended up wanting to try different ones out themselves. 

You found it rather funny that someone like Megumi had been caught up in such a talk, but it wasn’t surprising, considering that he had two tattoos, which resembled some kind of triangular runes on the back of his hands, dressed entirely in black, and had a rather dark and gloomy aura that surrounded him. Though many people avoided him, thinking that he was really scary, you knew that he was one of the nicest people you’ve come across and that his mood was heavily influenced by his rather lively best friends who often embarrassed him in public, just so that he could remain by their side.

Momo on the other hand was notorious for her fascination with the occult and supernatural phenomenons in general. Not only was she always dressed in a stereotypical way for those who shared the same fascination as her, but she also preferred to make it known rather than hide it. Threatening people to curse them if they annoyed or attacked her in any way, openly experimenting on self-made voodoo dolls, and carrying various charms with a questionable appearance as accessories for her backpack were some of her many daily characteristic features she displayed. The two of you weren’t especially close, but you were one of the few who understood her true intentions and beliefs that were hiding beneath her many layers.

“I’m not quite sure if I’m the best fit for this...task, maybe you should pick someone else” you finally said with an apologetic smile on your lips, but the blond simply brushed your refusal off with a wide grin.

“Oh, nonsense! There’s no such thing as the ‘perfect fit’ in stuff like that, anyone with an intention of summoning is enough!”

And with that, you were now one of the participants.

After basically being forced to comply, your group sat at a remote table and discussed the upcoming procedures. Throughout the entire talk, both you and Megumi simply chatted with each other and half-heartedly agreed to anything the others asked of you. By the end of it all, you two were stuck with individual books about the entities you were supposed to summon.

“So, who did you get?” you asked after taking a glance at your own rather thin book.

“Apparently, I’ve been given the privilege to attempt a summon of ‘The King of curses’, what about you?”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the sarcastic way the young man had quoted his book’s title and answered that yours didn’t even have a fancy name like that, and just went by “The Blood Devil”. 

The two of you stayed at the party for another half an hour during which you basically complained about your individual lives and then slowly but surely made your way back home…

——

With a somewhat relieved sigh, you remove your shoes from your feet and throw them in the corner of your entryway. Your hands massage the back of your neck slightly while you slowly make yourself on the way to your bedroom. It was no secret that you were fatigued enough to just drop everything and fall asleep right then and there, but your conscience nagged you like some kind of parental figure, whispering one order after the other until you just gave up and decided to do everything the proper way.

After leaving your bag on the chair next to your desk, you quickly get rid of your slightly sweaty clothes and enter your bathroom to take a much-needed warm shower, in hope that it would help you relieve some tension. And it did.

A couple of minutes later you exit the steamy room and start getting ready for bed. Just as you were about to turn off your room’s lights, the book Momo had given you caught your attention. After motionlessly standing in one spot for what felt like half an hour, you cursed your curiosity and took said book out of your bag, and began skimming through its contents. 

You didn’t intend to read more than necessary, just the first page which warned you of possible risks should’ve been enough, but the moment you had continued past it, it was as if you couldn’t stop yourself anymore. This book that supposedly held dangerous information on how you’d be able to summon some kind of otherworldly entity seemed like some kind of fairytale collection to you. 

The first chapter talked about some kind of man who had made use of a woman and her unborn children, a pretty disturbing and inhuman act that you skipped for the most part. Next in line was a whole chapter dedicated to these nine unborn and mostly undeveloped children, the tragic story of them getting locked up in jars, and how only three of them had managed to gain some kind of stability (if you can even call it that). Finally, the third and last chapter before the entire ‘How-to-prepare-the-ceremony’ segment focused solely on the eldest brother and how he’d successfully escaped his dire fate and had become the being known as the ‘Blood Devil’.

Now that you had reached the end of the introductory phase, the preparations for the ritual awaited you, and even though you hadn’t intended on trying your luck with summoning the same night you had received the book, you decided to just do it as quick as possible so that Momo didn’t feel the need to bother you daily with how far you’d gotten.

Shortly after you had gathered the needed materials and had prepared the requested furnishings for the ceremony. With the booklet in one hand, you once again checked whether everything you needed was fulfilled.

Four candles, a small table, a bowl, a kitchen knife, and some salt...Ok, that should be all

Looking at the items before you, you couldn’t help but wonder whether this ritual had indeed some kind of truth behind it and wasn’t just one of many parodies. 

With this slightly uneasy feeling, you once again took a look at the list.

𝙵𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚍/𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚜, 𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 (𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚔𝚢 𝚊 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎), 𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚠𝚕 (𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚌 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝟹𝟶𝟶-𝟻𝟶𝟶𝚖𝚕), 𝚊 𝚔𝚗𝚒𝚏𝚎 (𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚟𝚢 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚎), 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚝 (𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚝)

For a ritual to have such specific instructions, it’s quite...unusual, isn’t it? 

The required items weren’t the only detailed requirements you had to fulfill, secondary things that mainly concerned the atmosphere were also important to consider. Things such as the right room temperature, the dark lighting of the room you’d use for the ritual, the exact sequence of preparing the summoning circle and its unique symbols, and many more were enumerated just below the first bulleted list.

You set your worried thoughts aside, deciding to just humor this ritual and complete it to the best of your abilities, because the satisfaction you’d feel after this summoning ceremony fails despite you doing your best, would be indescribable. And with that, you began preparing everything step by step, double and triple-checking the book for confirmation until everything was ready.

With a sigh of satisfaction, you take a step back to admire what you had just spent half an hour on. You had placed the table in the middle of your room, the red candles positioned on each of its edges, on top of the wooden surface you’d drawn the circle as good as you could with your slightly trembling hand, and lastly, you’d placed the bowl on the floor in front of where you were to kneel with the knife on top of the rim of the receptacle.

Here goes nothing…

You kneeled and put the book beside you. With slightly shaky hands you took the knife and cut a horizontal line along your palm, as expected it stung a little but the pain wasn’t something unbearable. Slightly fascinated by the deep red color of your blood you watched the liquid slowly roll down your hand and drip into the empty bowl, staining its white material. As instructed by the book you poised in that position until your wound started to congeal and that was when you were finally allowed to relax yourself and continue. 

Next up you had to pour the collected blood over the salt circle and retrace its lines and patterns as precisely as you could, which you did. Now that this step was done as well, you looked at the completed handiwork and sighed to yourself, dreading the thought of having to clean all of this up later on.

You took another glance at the instructions and couldn’t help but cringe internally at the next and supposedly final step.

Alright then, let’s get this over with…

“With this humble offering I, (Y/N)(L/N), hereby summon thou. Oh, Devil of blood please, hear this mortal’s desperate plea and allow me to bear witness to thyn unique countenances that thee possesses.”

And with this the ritual was complete.

You remained motionless, waiting for something to happen, but everything stayed the same and you couldn’t help but embrace that internal relief inside of you which was silently thankful for the failure. 

Just as you were about to get up from your uncomfortable pose and begin to clean everything up, the candles’ flames suddenly went out before your very eyes and without your influence. With slightly wide eyes you scanned everything before you. You knew that you had closed the windows before even starting the ritual, so that eliminated one possible reason and at the same time, the most rational one. 

As nothing else happened you decided to simply blame it on your imagination and slight paranoia, but that’s when the faint sound of bubbling liquid ruined that small ray of hope you’d held on to. You slowly looked down at the bowl which was filled with your blood and you could’ve sworn that the deep red substance was slowly rising until it overflowed. 

All you could do was back away from the red puddle which was steadily growing and showed no signs of stopping anytime soon.

“W-What the hell is happening?” you asked yourself in panic as your wide eyes observed the way your blood began forming something, or better said, someone.

The mass before you began to take form and it was then that you noticed the knife which was lying a few inches away next to the inhuman heap.

Driven by nothing but adrenaline you began crawling towards it and just as you were about to reach for the blade, something similar to a hand took a hold of your wrist. You jumped back in shock and fell rather uncomfortably on your bottom as you looked up to the blood-covered thing, watching its appearance slowly contort into that of a human.

And there before you stood a tall man with shoulder-long dark hair, a rather tired expression on his face, and his most prominent feature, a dark stripe running horizontally across his nose bridge. His eyes were focused on you for the first few seconds, then he began looking around as if to take in his surroundings.

“Where am I? …were you the one that summoned me? …what is it that you require me to do?” he asked in a monotone voice, not giving you even a second to collect yourself. Your panic didn’t allow you to form any rational thoughts, let alone answer him properly, and all you had in mind right now was to run away from whatever this person in front of you was.

The man watched how pale your face had become and simply stood there motionless, as you sloppily got up and sprinted out of your room’s door. He cast his gaze down to the knife you had intended to pick up and cracked an ever-so-small smile before leaving the room himself. 

Meanwhile, you had reached your front door and were hurriedly trying to unlock it, but the multiple bolts and your trembling hands were set on making you fail such a simple task. 

When you finally turned your keys for the last time, a big hand slammed the wooden door shut. The weight that pressed against your back made it unable for you to move away, so you simply leaned your forehead on the door in defeat, knowing fully well who had stopped you in your tracks.

I’m finished…

Now that the man behind you had rendered you more-or-less immobile, he decided to take a proper look at you and your body. His eyes traveled slowly along every curve, no matter how small or voluptuous, until something far more interesting caught his eye. Your injured and slightly bloody hand that still bore the cut you had to inflict on yourself for the ritual and even though the wound had begun to slowly close, it was still bloody enough for his preferences.

He removed his palm from the door and slowly let it slide down from your shoulder to your slightly trembling hand. The way his long fingers wrapped around your wrist made you shudder and as if that wasn’t enough, he also had to slowly turn you around so that he didn’t hurt your arm or dislocate your shoulder.

Now that you were facing the man, you couldn’t help but stare directly at him and the way he inspected your wound. His gentle touch contradicted his looks as well as every thought you had about him, but that animalistic glint you noticed in his eyes failed to hide his true nature.

With utmost care he let his fingers glide along the cut and if it weren’t for the unpleasant sting, you wouldn’t have noticed that with this small motion he had peeled off the thin layer of blood, which was trying to close up your wound. Despite your slightly agape mouth, no words were uttered, I mean, how could you? 

The man in front of you had reverted that small amount of red crust to its original liquid form and then by some magic turned it into a wonderful red ruby that resembled a bonbon. His dark eyes peered right into yours and didn’t even waver in the slightest as he slowly brought the red stone to his lips, gave it an experimental lick, and finally swallowed it.

D-Did he just…?

Judging by the satisfied expression on his face you thought that he would finally step aside and at least introduce himself or give you some sort of explanation as to what he just did and why, but no. The way he did nothing else and simply waited for some kind of reaction, annoyed you and it didn't take you long to act accordingly.

 “Now that you’ve got what you came for, would you mind moving out of my way?” you asked in a rather unfriendly tone, one that completely contradicted your earlier fear of this still nameless entity. 

Your behavior not only surprised the man but yourself as well. Summoning a literal demon wasn’t your typical everyday occurrence and yet you couldn’t quite comprehend it. The fear that should’ve rendered you immobile was good to non-existent and you figured it was thanks to his surprisingly tame and innocent behavior, so it was only natural for you to be in the illusion of holding the reins, right?

And that arrogant behavior of yours only escalated further as you managed to push the man to the side and finally get away from your front door. 

Being as naive as you were, you turned your back to him and not even a second later your entire body’s movement was shut down. No matter how hard you tried to move your legs, hands, or even fingers, nothing seemed to work - no, on the contrary, it appeared to you that the more you struggled against this seemingly invisible force, the harder it became for you to breathe.

“If you don’t want to collapse and die, you’ll need to seize all of your movements for the time being,” said the lean man in a low voice, and the moment his eyes met yours, you could’ve sworn that the corners of his lips shot upwards for a split second before he continued, “…since you’re already aware of my abilities, I’ll skip most of it and directly tell you the two most important things you’ll need to keep in mind from now on.”

Without waiting for any type of signal that could’ve represented your answer, he closed the distance between you two, and this time he got so close that you could practically smell him. Contrary to your expectations his scent was fairly faint and by no means unpleasant. If confronted with the question of what he smelled like, you’d have to say it resembled that of burning wood.

You watched helplessly as the man showed you the slightly bloody knife you had used for the ritual and that’s when the long-awaited fear suddenly overcame you. With widened eyes, you followed the blade which was mere inches away from the center of your chest, and the moment you felt the small tip pierce your shirt a silent yelp escaped your lips.

Not fazed by your obvious fear, the man proceeded with whatever he had in mind and moved the knife until it had reached your shoulder, cutting the thin fabric along the way. In response to his cold fingers that glided along your exposed shoulder and collarbone, goosebumps peppered your skin. Your heartbeat quickened and you didn’t know whether this was because of the fear of what he’ll do next or because you were kinda curious about what’s about to come.

Still unable to move a single muscle there was nothing left for you but to watch and feel how the blade was pressed against your skin until it had cut through it. The fact that he’d cut so close to your heart made it hurt more than your harmless cut earlier, but as if that wasn’t painful enough he began to slide the blade up until its tip had reached the top of your right shoulder.

Your throat dried up, muffling the scream you so badly wanted to release. A stream of warm tears ran along the curves of your cheeks and dripped down to your cleavage, where a rather thin but bloody line had split your skin open.

“I can control your blood flow and if I so desire, I can make you move your limbs according to my wishes…to put it simply, by summoning me with your blood, you made yourself my marionette.”

His expressionless eyes followed the many thin blood droplets that oozed out of your wound and just before they were able to stain your clothes with their deep scarlet color, he extended his finger, positioning it mere millimeters away from your skin. Through half-closed eyes, you watched in awe as your blood was being drawn to the fingertip of the man like a magnet and slowly turned into the same gem-like form from before. Your injury still hurt, but as you dared to take a slight glance at it, you noticed that all the blood was gone, sucked up by the finger of the demon, and turned into a shimmering stone that was once again swallowed like candy.

——

Some weeks passed after that surreal encounter and since then you’d been more or less forced to live with the entity you’d summoned. On that night he’d introduced himself as Choso and despite your desire to either send him back to wherever he came from or simply throw him out, neither option was going to end well. According to the man himself, summoning rituals were easier to conduct than the ones to banish demons back into the abyss. You would need to take several precautions into account and in Choso’s case, you’d have to fulfill nearly impossible tasks, such as collecting 20 liters of blood from pure-blooded siblings or finding and freeing one of his many siblings. 

Your second option of throwing him out was dismissed almost momentarily after he’d told you that he can’t survive without consuming someone’s blood; ideally, he’d only have to take a small amount of your blood once a week, but if you insisted on kicking him out, then he’d have to attack random people and since they didn’t summon him, the amount of blood he’d have to take from them would be fatal.

Living with a demonic entity was surprisingly pleasant, but you knew that this was most likely because of the man’s personality and that if you’d summoned someone else, it would’ve most likely ended up way differently.

He was taking his role as the eldest brother very seriously and despite not being part of his family, he treated you very lovingly and even willingly took on most of the homework, but only that which he was familiar with, such as sweeping the floor or washing the dishes. Whenever he behaved like that, you found it difficult to remember the fact that he was some type of devil and sometimes you even caught yourself thinking how you wished he’d stay with you forever. It was good to have someone living under the same roof as you, someone you could more or less trust with your possessions, and someone to lie down next to in the evening.

But despite these few perks you noticed how your health slowly started to deteriorate. Simple tasks such as homework, reading texts, or concentrating during lectures; things you usually mastered almost effortlessly, became more and more difficult with each passing week, and the reason for that was none other than Choso. 

Being his weekly food source didn’t come without any risks. 

He’d warned you that the amount of blood he’d take from you and then consume, won't be automatically regenerated by your body and that if you refused his help, you’d slowly die away. Being the rational human you were, you didn’t believe him, thinking that something like your blood being slowly taken away by him was sheer impossible, so you refused his offer of help even before he’d properly explained it.

A mistake you slowly came to regret.

This morning you had felt as if someone was constantly hitting your head with a thick book, your body felt so heavy that your usual walking speed had decreased drastically and because of it you were ten minutes late for your first lecture.

You figured that your appearance must’ve been quite horrible, since your usually uninterested teacher, Sir Nanami, actually stopped mid-sentence to ask whether you were feeling ok and whether you wanted to go to the nurse’s office for a while. You wanted to brush it off, but as soon as you shook your head, your vision blurred and you felt like you were losing the ground under your feet. Luckily, your seat neighbor Maki reacted quickly and held onto you before you fell from your chair. Anything that occurred afterward was lost to you and the next time you came back to your senses, you found yourself on your bed, wrapped warmly in your blanket.

“What…happened?” you asked half loud, not expecting an answer, as you slowly sat upright, leaning your back on your bed’s headboard and letting your eyes roam around the familiar surroundings.

“You lost consciousness during your class,” said a silent and gentle voice, “thanks to our…contract, I felt that you were close to collapsing, so I followed the scent of your blood and when I found you, I took you back home.”

While you were processing the information you were given, Choso slowly walked towards your bed and kneeled next to it, placing one of his hands on top of your own, softly caressing it in the process. You couldn’t help but crack a small smile at the gesture and sighed as you imagined how he must’ve entered your classroom, ignoring everything and everyone and simply coming to your seat, taking you in his arms, and leaving, as if it’s the most normal thing to do.

“I told you to be careful, didn’t I?” His sudden question caught you off guard and all you could do was look down in shame. Seeing you look so sad and crestfallen reminded Choso of his younger brothers and he instinctively reached for the top of your head with his free hand and softly petted it a few times before caressing it. Being comforted by a demon-like that truly did wonders. For once you ignored the fact that it was partially his fault and savored the moment.

“I know that you didn’t want to hear about it, but in view of your wellbeing I’m obligated to tell you about a way you can minimize the harm done to you” he paused and took a short breath before continuing, “if we make a proper deal with each other, I’m allowed to share a portion of my blood with you and that will make up for the amount I’m taking…but it’s not risk-free.” 

This time it was you who had to take a long breath, a futile attempt to make your heartbeat calm down. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you that a deal with the devil contains several risks, but the fact that Choso was willing to tell you about them, relieved you in a way. Before reluctantly accepting his offer you requested a more detailed explanation for your own mind’s peace. According to his words, the danger of consuming a demon’s blood was very addictive, and if not done properly, the human risks becoming entirely dependent, meaning, they would prefer blood instead of real food or water. 

The thought of not being able to eat and drink what you loved scared you of course, but the wish to gain a sense of normality back in your life prevailed and you eventually caved, telling him that you’d agree to his terms and drink his blood just once and never again…

At first, everything seemingly worked out. Your focus was back and you could once again dedicate yourself fully to university and friends. You were happy…but not for long.

One week passed and your throat began to feel raspy and dry. Accompanying these uncomfortable feelings was the undying urge to constantly drink something and whenever your drinking bottle was empty, you’d get really nervous and start nibbling on your lip. But the worst part of it all was how you’d caught yourself, thinking about wanting to bite Choso and lick the blood right out of the wound like some kind of vampire.

“What the hell is wrong with me..?” you thought to yourself while you gently let your hand run along the man’s head. He looked up at you for a mere second before he continued to enjoy his “meal”. A small and barely visible blush adorned your cheeks as soon as you realized what kind of situation you found yourself in right now. 

The man, whose head you had just caressed, was kneeling between your thighs, a small portion of your plush flesh between his teeth. He bit down until they pierced through it and drew blood. All the while your eyes followed every ever so small movement of his’s until the big red droplets of blood caught your attention. The two of you observed how they slowly grew larger than Choso’s teeth marks and finally began dripping down your slightly raised leg.

With an unexpected smile, the man bent down and licked the blood from your skin before it stained anything. Your breath hitched for a moment and usually, you’d either look away or close your eyes while he got his weekly portion, but this time you couldn’t help but downright stare at him as he sucked on your small wound. It shouldn’t have surprised you to see someone enjoying themselves when they eat, even if that someone was a supernatural entity, but this was the first time you had properly looked at Choso while he consumed your blood and for some reason, your heart started beating faster than ever before. 

You bit your lower lip as you watched how his slightly longer tongue slithered over the bloody marks on your thigh and the way he sometimes planted a soft kiss on it made you shiver from pleasure. Your body became gradually hotter, resulting in you having to breathe harder, and the slight red that had tainted your cheeks had now taken on a deeper shade.

“C-Choso…I need your blood, please” you stuttered out of nowhere in between your labored breaths.

At the mention of his name all of his movements seized and the man’s eyes slowly moved up to your reddened face. After what felt like minutes of pure silence, he let go of your leg, licked his lips, and removed the scarf around his neck. 

While he was getting himself ready for you, you looked at his pale skin and the black markings, which resembled Kinesio tapes that athletes sometimes used, running along it. 

Your impatience got the best of you and without wasting a second you got on your knees and faced him while he began looking around for something. Meanwhile, you were unable to focus on anything at all. Your eyes wandered from his face, down to his neck, along his collarbone and shoulder, and then back to his face yet again.

That something he searched for turned out to be the knife you’d used for his summoning ritual. He handed you the blade with the same stoic expression as always, but instead of taking it, you slapped it away and next thing you knew, you had wrapped your arms around his torso and had buried your teeth deep inside of his shoulder’s skin. The only reaction you got from him was a simple flinch as a result of your sudden embrace and nothing more, no sound, no sigh, nothing. 

But as of right now this was the last thing that occupied your mind, all you wanted to do was drink this man’s blood and finally quench the thirst you’d been suppressing for so long.

“That’s it, (Y/N)…satisfy your thirst…give in…don’t be afraid, it’ll only do you good” he cooed seductively in your ear as he let his big hand softly glide along your back.

With a devilish smile, he listened to the hungry way you lapped up the blood from his multiple shoulder wounds that you’d inflicted within a matter of seconds.

Satisfied by your behavior, he gently patted your head and closed his eyes, relishing the feeling of your wet and slightly rough tongue. 

If it weren’t for your indescribable hunger, you would’ve noticed the red glint in Choso’s usually dark and soulless eyes…

Now, you’re mine…

[hollyhomburg]

Of Fire and Love (Pt. 3)

(Dragon! Yoongi x Reader) (Ft. Baby! Jungkook and Baby Dragon! Hoseok) (Dragon! Namjoon x Fairy! Jimin) 

Summary: When Dragon Yoongi finds baby Jungkook in the wreckage of a house he burned down, he can’t bring himself to kill the child. Months after someone drops a baby at your door, you start to notice something- or someone, lurking at the edge of your farm.

W/C: 9.3k

TAGS: anxious! hobi, Mentions of mates and soulbonds, Brief nudity, 

A/N: Hope you guys like this and are still interested in this story after so long between updates! the last few months have been kind of a struggle for me getting out of china during the coronavirus stuff, every single one of my family members was quarantined for 2 weeks besides me, but luckily none of them ever came down with the virus and they’re all okay! I hope we all are able to remain healthy in the next few months. 

Also, it’s worth noting that namjoon and Jimin's manor house is not on the map provided in chapter 2! That manor house is a different one! this chapter is a little heavier in the plot and family sweetness vs. the Yoongi x reader romance. hopefully, you don’t hate it! 

Part 1    Part 2 

- You have no idea what the dragon council will decide. If they’ll let you keep Hoseok or decide that it’s better if he remains with his own kind. and that- not the dragons you might meet or the thought of being in a city that hates your kind- is what scares you the most. 

- It’s a fear that Yoongi shares, but you try not to let it bother you- or to let Hoseok know that you’re scared. All of you ignore the possibility that Hoseok could be taken from you. But because of that, you also ignore the first missive summoning you to the council. 

- For the second missive, the council deemeds it best (given how Yoongi had received the first emissary) to send a messenger hawk. You ignore that letter as well, but the next one that comes delivered while the four of you are away for the day off to a nearby village for the few things that Yoongi can’t get via plundering, contains less than cordial language. 

- There is another smaller message tucked into the scroll, written personally for Yoongi and not ‘Yoongi windborne, commander of the western battalion’ or whatever title the council decided to give him after the last war (it hardly means anything- the dragon council’s garrison hasn’t been called in well over 100 years). 

- The note is small and in a scrawl he recognizes: Come and visit! Jimin misses you. I hear you have a son now? And a mate? We’d both love to meet them. Namjoon’s chicken scratch writing is still the same after all these years, Yoongi flips over the other side of the note. I’m trying my best, but I can only hold them off for so long – KNJ

- Though it’s been years since the last time they spoke, and even longer since they’d seen each other in person, Yoongi’s heartstrings tug uneasily as he thinks of Namjoon sticking up for him in front of the other councilmembers. Once upon a time, Namjoon had been one of Yoongi’s lieutenants, though they’d been much more than that, the horrible business of war binding them closer than friends and more like family. 

- He, Seokjin, and Namjoon had all found each other during the last war. yoongi had been without his family by that point, and searching for a cause- anything really- to occupy his eternity. Yoongi had been appointed as a commander after he’d been successful in a few minor battles. Namjoon had been assigned to his battalion, a dragon from the north with no formal training come south to prove himself.

-  Seokjin brought to the same place as a medic who owed allegiance to neither side and only wished to make the war less bloody. Yoongi was the only commander that allowed Seokjin into his camp, as he was stalwart about treating both sides, enemy and friend alike, and yoongi was the only commander who would support him doing both. They’d been fast friends, outcasts among the ranks, and they were friends still. 

- After the war they’d all scattered to different parts of the globe, Namjoon- because he had a dream- a dream to make the world better, and like all fools, had decided to go into politics. A mixture of grief and hopeful sorrow (and love- endless love) had driven Seokjin north.

- Yoongi still remembers it, the day that they’d paused on their march to join another battalion settled in for a warm afternoon in the human kingdom. the world so flat deep into orchard lands and taken refuge in peach fields that had turned to ashes in the coming months as the war had ravaged the countryside. He remembers hearing the shout, Seokjin leaping up from where he’d been reclined against Namjoon’s cool side, the dragon barely shifting let alone actually shifting. 

- Yoongi runs with Seokjin, seen the teen- the young man sitting below a ladder, a knife meant for cutting peaches from their tree embedded in his arm. he’d seen the way that Seokjin had looked at the man as he pulled it out, the wide boxy smile as the human marveled at Seokjin’s magic.

- There is a reason why Seokjin never comes south anymore, the peach fields remind him too much of Taehyung not to hurt.

- But maybe Taehyung and Seokjin’s story is better placed for a different time. 

- Yoongi like Seokjin, hadn’t wanted to go back to the city, too used to being on his own at that point. And still- the guile of war hadn’t ebbed the grief of losing his own parents. It’s rare now, that Yoongi thinks of them time finally healed those old wounds. When he looks at you- he knows he has a new family now, and this one he’s determined not to lose. 

- They’d lost contact mostly because of Namjoon’s appointment to the dragon council- a feat in its self for a lowborn tundra dragon from a tribe like Namjoon. Yoongi hadn’t bothered pushing the contact- knowing that they’d remain friends no matter how much time separated them. He’s glad that’s still true even now. 

- Over the next few days, Yoongi mulls it over, but he knows he can’t outrun the council forever. Fall has already gripped the mountains by the time Yoongi finally takes the four of you to the dragon city to meet with the council. 

- Both you and Jungkook greet the awaiting hundreds of thousands of dragons with something like mixed trepidation on your part and wonder on Jungkook’s. Hoseok is another matter: he clutches at your hand the whole flight to the city, both he and Jungkook tied tight between your legs for safety. And though Jungkook might nod off most of the time lulled to sleep by the gentle up and down movement of Yoongi’s back in the sky. Hoseok curls close to you, nuzzling into your shoulder periodically. Glad to be so close. 

- He can’t fly yet, but you know from the way his wide red eyes look at the puffy clouds that he’s feeling some sort of call to the wind that both you and Jungkook are immune too. 

- Well... maybe Jungkook feels it too in some way. When he’s awake and not curled up, he and Hoseok shout into each other's ears over the sound of the wind, sometimes holding out their hands in mock flight. 

- Your hands remain firmly around either of their waists, holding on harshly to a support rope in front of you. Somehow you don’t think you’re ever going to get used to flying, your stomach dipping with every new headwind. 

- The journey is long and hard- but you couldn’t imagine making it on foot if flying takes a week. The first two days you don’t escape the frozen mountains; you’re lucky for Yoongi’s warm back between your legs to keep you from really feeling the cold. You keep your same old shawl- the first one that Yoongi gave you wound tight around your neck. 

- before you’d left Jungkook had found his old baby blanket shoved deep in an old chest of Yoongi’s with a few old storybooks, It had surprised both you and Yoongi when he’d found it- and started wearing it much like you wear your shawl. “It has my name on it- so it must be mine” he’d said, proud over the fact that he could read. 

- Hoseok had looked a little shy and unsure, fingering the red scarf whenever he can, until you’d gone to the nearby village to get some supplies for your journey and gotten him a matching one. Though his is blue so dark it’s nearly black, and has a hood that he can tug up to hid his horns if he ever needs too! 

- He’d hopped up and down when you’d given it to him, wanting you to scent it before he put it on, snuggling down into in and hiding his mouth in it with a little happy dragon noise. He and Jungkook look like quite the pair, Jungkook’s black hair and red shawl, and Hoseok with his red hair and black shawl. 

- You pass over woods on the other side of the mountain range, dotted with waterfalls and visible streams that grow over the next few days into rivers that wind in and out of view. You start to spy hollows and carefully carved out dens in the few mountains you pass, or even nests. You pass over tall hills dotted with red poppy fields and farmland, and even camp in one late at night. 

- The tall blooms hanging over your heads as you sleep in your sleeping bags. you wake at first light with red petals dotting your hair, Jungkook and Hoseok sleeping on as Yoongi slowly picks them out, giving you a kiss to your face and chest for everyone. Ending his morning kisses with a scalding one just over your heart. 

- When the little settlements that dot the countryside start to grow more numerous, more like large towns, Yoongi flies higher just to stay out of sight of the others of his kind.

- He doesn’t know how your and Jungkook’s presence so deep into dragon lands will be received, especially out here in the country where many are loathed to forget any of the wars in recent memory or the one that’s currently blooming. The citizens of the dragon city, on the other hand, are far more accepting, even overly curious if Yoongi remembers well- it’s been about 100 years since he last set foot in it, things could have changed. 

- But Yoongi is still a little too worried for comfort, the last time that you land to make camp, everyone can feel how tense it is. It must be the hardest for Hoseok, already wound tight by anxiety and further stressed out by Yoongi’s off-putting scent of discomfort. The youngling spends the whole night shifted and scent marking both you and Jungkook, huffing every time either of you try to move away from him.

- There are some precautions that they have to take before you enter the city limits. Both you and Jungkook are carefully scent marked and each given something of Yoongi’s to wear as claiming items. Yoongi gives each of you a bracelet made from one of his shiny black scales that he made a few weeks ago. Any dragons that see you will know you’re claimed and spoken for- even if he turns away for a moment and you’re caught without them.

- In the end, it’s only the curiosity of what Yoongi is doing that makes Hoseok shift. Hoseok sweetly makes both of you one too- though his are rougher and not quite as elegant- a simple twine necklace with one of his red feathers for each of you to wear around your necks- that way everyone will know you’re apart of Hoseok’s family too. 

- “Do you like it?” he asks after he steps up to where your legs are crossed around the campfire and puts the long string around your neck, you wrap your arms around him and pull him into your lap. Making him erupt into giggles “I love it Hobi I’m never going to take it off” he presses his cheek to the top of your head, scent-marking you before he darts away to give Jungkook his. 

- on the day you enter the city, Yoongi is careful to circle the city from above, you can smell the ocean even if you can’t see it yet high above the clouds. He’d warned you before- to hold on, that entering might require some fancy flying. When you first breach the cloud line from above- you’re shocked, what you first assume is a cloud of brightly colored birds grows in size as Yoongi falls into the steepest dive he dares with you on his back, gliding into a slow spiral down.

- You’re glad you’re a little too scared from the dive to even look around- or else you’re sure that the sheer number and dimorphism would scare you. you break through the second layer of clouds and the city rises up to meet you. 

- The city is in the center of a massive island miles across, on one side of it- the city rises up slowly to the edge of a cliff, a tall castle at the highest point. But even on the other side, you can see the cliffs are dotted with hanging buildings. On the less steep side of the city, tall buildings are wound through with canals, colorful ships docking to unload their wears from far off lands.

- You’ve never seen so much glass in one place, in the human realms, glass is costly and usually used sparingly- but this castle is nearly made of the stuff, piercing the sky like a faceted quartz crystal. The city it’s self-looks almost like a human city if not for the taller towers, landing pads, and wider roofs for sunbathing dotted with Jem colored scaly beings that look lazily at the sky when Yoongi descends. 

- You’d never realized how Yoongi might compare to others of his species, but even here- his black wings seem to block out the sun, he’s easily twice as large as the average size. luckily none of them fly too near to you- the thousands of dragons dotting the sky too preoccupied with their own destinations to wonder at yours. 

- You’re glad you’re a little too scared from the dive to even look around- or else you’re sure that the sheer number and dimorphism would scare you. 

- The entire fiasco of landing takes about a minute but feels longer.

-  When you land, it’s in a square in the shroud of the castle with steep walls and a large hall- faceted like a cut stone. The wide black landing pad is tiled with white stones in the shape of a coat of arms. The hexagonal black stones are warm underfoot as you slide off of Yoongi’s back the insignia- whatever it might be, indiscernible now that you’re at ground level.

- Attendants rush forward, some of them puzzled and others, who recognize Yoongi dropping into deep bows. 

- Though Jungkook had been excited when he’d first learned that there was a whole city full of dragons- now he’s shy, tucks himself into your legs when you slide onto the stone. Hoseok falls into a flurry of feathers, shifts halfway down Yoongi’s back and steps in front of both of you, his feathers raised and puffed up to make himself look larger. 

- It’s strange, you’d never imagined the different ways in which dragoness could present its self In human form but now you see there is some sort of dimorphism between shifting species. A young woman with wings rushes forward as if to take your bags, but halts when Hoseok hisses at her. There is even one with a tail poking out from underneath her skirt, and a group of small soldiers who look more dragon than human even though they’re still bipedal.   

- A pretty looking soldier with silver scales sparkling along his shoulders like the armor he also wears steps up, a spear held in his shaking hands not at the ready, but held almost as if he is unsure of the threat. Yoongi steps in front of the three of you smoothly- the shift ending with a flap of his robes, suddenly toe to toe with the soldier who looks like he’s about to faint, eyes widening at the sight of Yoongi’s human form. 

- He’s quick to drop the spear, and back up, you almost think you see Yoongi smirk. “I am Yoongi Windborne, victor to the battles of frozen fires, of tialug pass, the stolen city, Commander of the eastern battalion and victor to the 33 year war, I have come to the council when summoned, take me to them.” 

- A dragon woman with no visible mark beyond her slanted emerald eyes steps forward, the pin on her chest of a large fire-filled flower (what you decide you must have seen in the center of the coat of arms. Later Yoongi will tell you it’s the symbol of the council) she introduces herself as The main caretaker of the castle and drops into an elegant bow “I will take you to them master, follow me.” 

- The palace guards recede; Hoseok sifts back and straightens, Yoongi nods and then gestures with his hands for you to follow without turning from the woman. You would reach out and take his hand if it weren’t for Jungkook and Hoseok clutching either of yours. Jungkook is wide-eyed and a little bit frightened, but his wide brown eyes dart to take in absolutely everything he can. Hoseok is still and as tightly wound as a statue, his back rim rod straight holding your hand so tightly in both of his that it’s starting to hurt.

- “Your family may wait here,” the caretaker says, as you break out into a small antechamber. It’s a little enchanting, the open-air courtyard with a raised pool in the center pastel colored fish swimming lazily in the clear water. Great bushels of puffy pink flowers hang from the ceiling above- giving the whole thing an almost cloudlike aesthetic, small glass orbs hang periodically that seem to glow dully with muted light hang on unseen strings. 

- “I’ll give you a second to settle in,” the caretaker says then turns her back to the two of you, farther on down the hallway you can barely hear it, the sound of clamoring voices and a small shout, a loud booming laugh. You figure you must not be far from the council room.  

- Your boys look up at you, and you lean down, pressing a kiss to either of their for heads. “Would you give your father and I a minute?” they both nod, their mismatched black and red curls bobbing as Hoseok transfers his death grip from your hand to Jungkook’s and lets the younger pull him in the direction of the pool. 

- Hoseok holds onto Jungkook, smiling down at Jungkook when he says something about the fish, the elder trying to stop the younger as he tries to climb up and over the ledge and into the pool, laughing when Jungkook pouts, “Don’t let them take him Yoongi- please- I can’t- if they do-” 

- Yoongi shushes you gently, his wide hands combing over the back of your hair. He makes a comforting noise in the back of his throat. But his grip is tight, his body too tense to be entirely comforting. “I won’t let that happen, I promise” You nod, hold onto him extra tightly. Yoongi leans forward to scent mark dully against your cheek. The slow circles he draws with his nose tempting a watery giggle. 

- He leans back, pressing his forehead against yours hard, eyes opening, more resolved, a rage you’ve never seen in his eyes before. You imagine not for the first time what he must have been before you. You always see Yoongi so soft its easy to forget he once lived the life of a warrior. His eyes flash with a rabid hidden fire, something that flares to consume and destroy. 

- But it’s gone as quickly as it comes, his eyes softening once they focus on you. The giggles from Hoseok and Jungkook dancing along the tiled wall of the pool distracting him. 

 - “I’d burn down the whole city before I let them hurt you.” 

- Together the two of you walk towards your children. You pull Jungkook away to a corner, wanting to look out over the city and the wide windows. Leaving Hoseok and Yoongi to talk. 

- Yoongi crouches down to Hoseok’s level and hugs him tightly, the flechling holds back twice as hard. “My little flechling” Yoongi says, barely keeping his tears at bay. The words tugging out of him before he can think better on it…but there are some things that need to be said. yoongi might not have a chance after today. 

- He hopes, not for the first time- that he’s not fucking this whole father thing up. He hopes he’s Judging correctly that Hoseok even so small and young will be able to make this choice. 

- With everything he’s been through, he deserves to be treated like a grown-up but protected and cared for like the child he is. What Hoseok wants matters the most in this, regardless of what you and Yoongi want.  

- Yoongi knows that Hoseok hasn’t had an easy few months- not by a long shot, losing his family and the long months of healing had been hard. But yoongi hopes that they’ve done the best that they could.

- “You know how much I care for you, how much Jungkook and y/n care for you too, we love you and we want you to stay but none of that matters if you want-“ Yoongi’s voice falters, and he doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence before Hoseok is tugging back with a vice-like grip shanking his little head back and forth furiously knowing Yoongi’s words before he’s spoken them, little curls bobbing and flopping up to curl against his golden horns. 

- “I want to stay- I want to stay with you and them, please- please don’t let them take me away.” he cries, clutching onto the back of Yoongi’s neck. 

- Yoongi strokes down his back carefully, his arms a cage around his son to protect him from all that would harm the young dragon. Their horns knock together a little, as Hoseok scent marks Yoongi in the clumsy little kid sort of way that makes Yoongi’s heart clench painfully.

- “Of course not, I’d never let them take you from us hobi, i promise” from the corner, Jungkook giggles and calls for Hobi to come and see the view of the city below, oblivious, half hanging out of the window and probably in danger of falling if it weren’t for your hand fisted in the back of his shirt. Hoseok nods, and Yoongi knocks their foreheads together once before he lets Hoseok go, his hand lingering on Hoseok’s small shoulder for just a moment longer.  

- Yoongi is ready to face them. 

- The Dragon Council quiets when Yoongi enters, some of them even stand while the caretaker announces him by rank and title. Yoongi himself even rolls his eyes at a few of them- the council and their formalities must have anointed him with more than a few in his absence from the city. The council room is the same as yoongi remembered it. The sealing is hexagonal and faceted with glass like a jewel, the councils two dozen seats set up a few feet so that whoever remains in the anti-chamber below to meet with them needs to look up to make eye contact. 

- He spots his old friend in the crowd, Yoongi sees the ice drakes face breaks out into a happy smile at the sight of him. Namjoon’s chair falling back as he stands up too quickly at the sight of his long lost friend. A smile that Yoongi returns with barely a press of his lips- later, there will be time for a more solid hello. 

- The discussion and clamor is almost immediate. Yoongi quickly needs to reign in his temper. 

- “While it’s not unheard of for human’s to be apart of a hoard, it is a little unconventional. Are we certain Yoongi is the best caretaker for the flechling? Should he not be put with some of his own kind? Someone with more natural inclinations?” 

- Before Yoongi has a chance to growl out his anger at the impertinence and the disrespect they’re showing you- his mate- and not just a thing- Namjoon speaks up for him. The air chills in the wide throne room as Namjoon’s temper spikes. 

- “You seem to discount Yoongi’s loyalty to us, despite the fact that it’s not in his natural inclinations.” namjoon throws their words back in their face,  Namjoon is right, Most solitary species of dragons are more likely to tell the council to fuck off rather than follow their thinly veiled orders framed as requests.  

- “He’s never hesitated to come at your beck and call. If he wants to look after him and the flechling also wants to stay with his adopted family, I vote to allow him that, and transfer custody of the child to Yoongi.”

- Namjoon has gotten far more eloquent during his time as a councilman, Yoongi realizes. As he watches the way that Namjoon takes the room's attention and focuses it. There is barely a trickle of his northerner drawl left in his voice. He’s not the same rough winged and backwater hatchling Yoongi had first met- nor the battle-hardened soldier he’d left on the edge of the city limits all those years ago. Namjoon’s done well for himself. 

- “Also, he’s been verry clear during his explanation that the human woman is his mate Jaebeom- would you forgive such disrespect if the same indifference was shown to your mate?” the other dragon growls in reply and then mumbles something about Namjoon’s own choice of mate being unconventional at best and a conflict of interest at worst, but Namjoon is stalwart. 

- “There is another nuance to this issue as well, there are proper channels for this sort of thing, I for the life of me can’t imagine why Yoongi did not bring the child to us when he first found him and instead left us to find out that he’d been illegally harboring the child-“ 

- Yoongi’s voice is a growl as he interrupts, “my s- Hoseok was injured, councilwoman, I assure you legal formalities were the last thing on our minds when we first found him.”

- That prompts a whole other vein of discussion. “A human healing a dragon? how preposterous!” “How do we know that she even healed him well enough?” “The fledglings flight abilities could be at stake! We must have him looked over by the healers at once” “You definitely should have brought him here if he was injured- the only ones who could heal him properly is us.” 

- “I think we need to ask the child what he wants.” Comes the final vote, from an elderly woman in the back, she’s been a member of the council for most of her life and the wings that drag behind her when she stands are blown through with arrow holes and rustle like delicate paper. Yoongi wonders if she can even fly anymore. 

- Not too surprisingly, you refuse to let Hoseok go into the chamber alone, and Jungkook too because you won’t let Jungkook be alone in a strange place either. Your family files into the room, and though more than one of the council members seem to view your very presence to be an insult the rest of them seem to relax momentarily. 

- And of course, it helps that Hoseok enters the council room in his dragon form, makes them seem more at ease somehow, like they where worried he was being forced to stay in his human form (but come on really? You can’t help but be a little indignant at that.)

- At first, Hoseok will not step into the middle of the room, won’t leave your side by where you stand with Yoongi. you stoop to put a hand on his back, “Hobi it’s okay honey they just want to talk to you” Hoseok lets out a pained whine that makes more than one dragon in the room stiffen, you too, your hand smoothing over his feathered wing as they flutter a little agitatedly, snapping once. “I’ll go with him mom,” Jungkook says, tugging on the little mane of feathers on Hobi’s neck and leading him into the middle of the room.

- Hoseok goes, needing to be reassured every few feet by a soft word from Jungkook but he gets to the small raised circle, a podium just large enough for both of them to stand, without much fuss even though Hoseok looks like he’s about to bolt. 

- “They seem to have a close bond” one of the council members notes to the open room, the awaiting dragons appraise Jungkook and Hoseok with every step. Hoseok holds the end of Jungkook’s scarf in his mouth for comfort. 

- The closer they get to the Centre the more Hoseok shakes, his feathers standing on end making him look twice as puffed up. “We are! He’s my best friend!” Jungkook chirps, unbothered by the council members' scrutiny.  some seem to bristle at Jungkook’s enthusiastic response and Namjoon stifles a snort, raising his eyebrows in Yoongi’s direction. the look seems to say “a spunky one you’ve got there” Yoongi barely suppresses a grin. 

- “Will you be shifting any time soon?” a councilman snaps out when they’ve been hovering in the center of the room for a few seconds, Yoongi is careful to grab your arm tightly, making the snarky response die in your throat as a growl of his own ripples out of his throat. The look he sends you is apologetic, but you interfering will likely make it worse. Yoongi’s hand remains tight on your forearm, his thumb rubbing in soothing circles. 

- “Sorry, it will only take a second,” Jungkook says, answering for the two of them Surprising both you and Yoongi. Maybe it’s something in the way that Jungkook says the words you think. Maybe it’s the unwavering trust that Hoseok has in Jungkook or the fact that he was the first one to crack through Hoseok’s shell when he’d come into your care. You have to admit- you have no idea what’s happening, and neither does Yoongi really, as Jungkook cups Hoseok’s cheeks in his hands. 

- In dragon form, Hoseok’s head rises at just about eye level with Jungkook. The younger presses their foreheads together for a second the same way they always do. The council watches with confused looks at first and then wide eyes, the elder council woman’s eyes hardening and her hands tightening over her walking cane, her eyes bright as she looks down upon them. 

- The council watches with bated breath as Jungkook presses his forehead against Hoseok’s hard,  “Hobi, shift.” he commands, his quiet voice lingering in the dead silence of the chamber. By the time Jungkook pulls back Hoseok’s red hair is tangling with his black, and he blinks, suddenly more clearheaded as he peers up at the council. “Sorry, I can’t- I’m not so good at shifting still and Jungkook helps me when I need it.” 

- You can’t imagine when before you’d seen it and then you remember- months ago- when that dragon had almost attacked the three of you, you and Yoongi had been busy with your bruises while Jungkook had gotten Hobi to shift. You can’t imagine what just happened really, but there must be some significance, whereas before most if not all of the council had held ire in their gazes when they looked at Jungkook- now their eyes are wide with shock and curiosity. 

- You don’t like it, the way they stare at them like some sort of novelty. You watch from beside Yoongi, his hand fisted in the fabric at the small of your back, he can tell your whole body is fighting to go to your sons and put your body between the two of them, but he holds you tight to his side, knowing if you interfere you’ll only make it worse. 

- “Well that settles it,” the councilwoman says, and almost immediately the others try to jump in, she raises her hand though and they fall silent, “all of you know as well as I do, that to separate a soulbond could spell certain death for either of them, if the hatchling has chosen the human boy then we need to respect it.”

- A soul bond? What is that? You want to wonder out loud, but if the faint widening of Yoongi’s eyes is anything to go by, it must be a big deal. That you might not have understood but it seems mostly unanimous, the few dragons who seem displeased are overridden by the vast majority who seem to be in agreement. 

- As quickly as you’ve been summoned, you’re asked to leave, a little more politely albeit. Yoongi is asked to stay however, and he leads you to the door nodding that he’ll only be another minute or so before he can rejoin you. 

- “How do you do that Jungkook?” you ask as you leave, one of your son's hands in each of your own, Hoseok’s is sweaty. Jungkook just shrugs looking a little indigent in the way that only a 6-year-old can muster. “I don’t know? Do you think they’ll have food for us when we get back? I’m kind of hungry.” you give Hoseok a look and he shrugs his small shoulders, “it’s just easier when he asks, it’s like, I can’t do it when I ask my body too but it listens to him,” you make a noise in the back of your throat. 

- As it turns out, those few minutes really are a few hours, there is a fair amount to discuss. Despite the grumblings and arguing that extends well into the day, Yoongi is allowed to keep Hoseok as his charge as long as he agrees to yearly check in’s with the council, and quarterly medical check-ups to make sure his ability to fly is not impeded by his past injury as he grows into adulthood, and to introduce him to more of his kind whenever possible. 

- There is another matter too, most younglings go to some sort of vocational school if they live within the city limits, magic school (if they’re so inclined like Yoongi was) or at least flight school so that they can learn best how to control their larger scaly forms. Normally, if they live outside of the city limits, schooling is left up to their parent’s discretion, but Hoseok- with his injured wing- is a special case. 

- “The fledgling will be under mandatory schooling for 2 months out of the year, whenever his parents decide, during which time he will socialize with his own kind, and complete certain physical exams to ensure his body is developing correctly despite the injury, and learn to fight.” 

- The burst of flame is almost immediate, as well as Yoongi’s rippling snarl that seems to shake the walls and make the windowpanes of the room rattle in their casings. When the smoke clears, Yoongi is toe to toe with the old councilman who has spoken the final missive- or sentencing, depending on your viewpoint. 

- In the antechamber down the hall, you notice the glass orbs that hang from the ceiling swaying slightly though your children do not. You gnaw on your lower lip, sending the closed door, and the guard that's come to stand outside of it- with an anxious glance.  

- “My child will not- under any circumstance- learn to fight- just so you can make him some soldier in your armies the same way you did to me. That, over everything else I will not allow.” He spits, fire dripping from his mouth even in human form.

- The old councilman cocks an eyebrow in Yoongi’s direction, unperturbed by his show of aggression, “this is our final say, take it- or leave the child in our care.” the threat hangs in the air for a second, everyone’s hair sticking on end, Yoongi’s hands tighten on the edge of the podium, breaking the edge away from the rest of the stone the rest of the podium creaking under his strength. Namjoon at the far end of the table- even stands up as if to come between Yoongi.

- With another snarl, Yoongi hurls the stone at the nearest window, which shatters in a fantastic splay of glass, then turns and walks away from the council- knowing that really- he has no other choice. behind him, he hears someone say something that sounds suspiciously like “overgrown baby” and “temper tantrum.”

- Yoongi’s temper has barely dissipated by the time he reaches your antechamber but is immediately cooled into syrupy warm sweetness when he sees the sight that greets him.

- There is a small food cart in the waiting room where he left you, though it looks absolutely raided. The honey cakes and small sandwiches taken apart by little fingers. Another plate only holds crumbs now, a small pile of tangerine peals piled on the floor (where Jungkook and Hoseok had sat and played a game while you’d paced and worried over the fate of your family).

- The fish in the pool now firmly in hiding after the last hour of terror inflicted on them by the two boys that are now taking a rest on the padded chaise lounge in the corner. Jungkook is piled with his head on your stomach the lower half of his pants soaked to the bone, his sticky face pressed to your stomach. The 6-year-old is never one to forget a nap, especially on a mid-afternoon as warm as this. The light from the dying sun making the room rosy and golden.

- Hoseok, on the other hand, is stretched out lengthwise, his head rested on your shoulder while you recline propped up a little on the velvet pillow. His eyes are barely open as you stroke down his back and over his hair. You hum something soft and melodic and relaxing as Hoseok holds you tightly around your middle. Hoseok sits up at the sound of Yoongi’s footsteps, the softness of your lilting lullaby silences. And Yoongi finally lets his smile break out.

- He holds his arms open, “come here Hobi” he says, and the youngling breaks out into a run, fully waking Jungkook. All of you pile in around Hoseok, squeezing the life out of him as the words spill from Yoongi’s mouth “you’re ours- you’re ours” and Hoseok happily snuggling into your tummy, then Jungkook’s head.

- “Okay! I can’t breathe! Stop squeezing so hard!” he says eventually, and you all separate from him with a few lingering touches, and Hoseok feels snuggled down and happy like he’s safer than he’s been in the last few months. Hoseok holds on a tiny bit, pressing his cheek to the side of your leg and holding around your knee, unwilling to let go even now.

- Before any of you can talk even further about what you might do next, or where you might be staying tonight, long confidant strides echo down the hallway as the council seems to get louder, stopped for a break perhaps or adjourned for the day, and a massive man in a dark blue robe rounds the corner.  

- You barely catch the sight of his slicked-back silver hair- and his icy blue eyes before he swoops up your mate into a bone-crushing hug. Yoongi actually squeaks- though the sound is more of a result of all of the air being crushed from his lungs by those iron looking arms. “Min- fucking- Yoongi- you asshole making me wait that long” the much taller man starts talking a mile a minute before your mate has a chance to respond beyond a wide grin. The kind of look you thought was reserved for you and your family but- whoever he is they must be close.

- “You should have told me you where coming! And not just wiped into the council room like that- but honestly- it was worth it to see the looks on their faces- how are you? How was your journey? Jimin will be so happy to see you!” Namjoon withdrawals- knocking foreheads with him once and quickly before he pulls apart, though your mates face is equally as smiley, showing his gums and slight fangs “councilman Namjoon- who would have thought they would let a low blood like you join their ranks,” he teases.

- The grin Namjoon returns, looking down shyly- “it wasn’t easy- but I think I’m finally starting to make some headway with how they treat the lower races- oh!” he brakes off, suddenly looking down, “who might this be?” Jungkook peers up with him with wide eyes, still tugging on the long embroidered edge of Namjoon’s robes. 

- “Excuse me!” Jungkook chirps, “I was wondering how you got so tall?” Yoongi stifles a laugh, you smile, and you can finally see the small nubby horns poking out of the top of Namjoon’s head start to turn from their silver that blends in with his hair- to a slight pink. Namjoon casts Yoongi an anxious glance, both of you stifle your giggles. “Ugh? Vegetables? I guess?”

- Jungkook makes a scowling face. His nose scrunching up cutely. “I was hoping you wouldn’t say that” Jungkook grabs Namjoon’s hand, giving it a little shake, “I’m Jungkook,” Namjoon looks a little bewildered but gives it a shake back, prompting both you and Yoongi to fall into giggles. “I’m Namjoon?” his sharp icy blue eyes flicker from Jungkook to Hoseok, who gives Namjoon a likewise small smile and a handshake, his small hand dwarfed by Namjoon’s large one. 

- “You must be Hoseok and Y/n, it’s a pleasure to meet both of you as well” you hold out your hand and Namjoon stoops low to press his forehead against it- a strange thing- you’d almost been expecting him to kiss it. Later, Yoongi will tell you that it’s customary for other dragons to greet each other's mates that way, so as to not incidentally scent mark them with a hug, or a more familial press of a forehead to the others. 

- Eventually, the conversation shifts to your plans for the rest of the stay in the dragon city. When Yoongi lets slip that you haven’t found a boarding house for tonight yet Namjoon invites you to stay at his manor house as long as you need. He doesn’t take no for an answer either, no matter how Yoongi tries to back out of it. 

- The sun already set so you can’t exactly see everything but the moon hangs over the sea like an old friend, lulling the three of you on Yoongi’s back into the soft wakefulness that only a stressful day can bring. Yoongi and Namjoon are  two opposites, Namjoon’s wings taking in the moonlight and almost reflect it, whereas Yoongi is an unseen shadow as he follows the lighter colored and smaller dragon east until the city’s glow is faint on the horizon.

- The yellow light of windows dot the countryside along with other mansions, Yoongi tells you later that most of the councilmen prefer to live within the city limits, but Namjoon felt he needed a little more breathing room. 

- The manor house (or small castle really) is built for a dragon, tall windows with shutters and tall glass windows. it’s bricked not with red stone but smooth white river stones stacked on each other. It’s extensive gardens and pathways extend all the way to the edge of the Seacliff, the ocean turning below a spare 50 feet from the back patio. 

- a massive greenhouse swallows the western edge of the building, almost dwarfing the manor house, it’s so dark and dense with foliage that you barely see it until you land in the lawn, the grass tall and speckled through with wildflowers turned grey in the ample moonlight is soft underfoot. when you slide off of Yoongi’s back to land softly. 

- It’s late enough that neither Namjoon or Yoongi protest when you decide to turn in basically the second you make it into Namjoon’s entryway. The head housekeeper is a kind-looking woman with a cloud of curly hair that almost hides her dark brown horns, her eyes almost as orange as the candlelight, pressing you to take all of your things up to the guest wing while a youth helps her carry your bags. 

- Both of your sons rub their eyes sleepily, almost knocking into one of the tall vases full of flowers tucked into the alcove by the door. And the though Hoseok furiously apologizes no one seems too mad at him, the housekeeper seems to look at them with softness too, Hoseok basically holding Jungkook up, something else in her eyes as she looks to you and offers to bring up some soup and some warm milk as well. 

- Yoongi holds gently to your arm as an attendant helps Namjoon divest of his councilmen’s robes, your sons already trudging up the stairs after the woman who helped you with your things. “I think Namjoon and I have some catching up to do, will you be alright with the boys?” Namjoon chimes in “our guest suite is extremely comfortable- if you need anything please tell Muji and she’ll get you whatever you need.  

- You nod slowly at namjoon, Yoongi’s hand coming up to grip yours lightly on the railing of the staircase. “Of course,” you say, putting your hands on his shoulders, leaning in to give him a kiss that he returns soft, his hands splaying on your hips, hands twiddling with the lacing that sits on the small of your back. “Enjoy your talk you old lizards” you tease, making yoongi and Namjoon laugh. You head up the wide staircase, 

- Namjoon’s house is lit with enough of those glowing orbs that you don’t need a candle to see, and below you hear Namjoon mutter to Yoongi, “to think after all these years you’ve finally found one to make you soft” “oh shut it Joon- you’re twice as bad if not worse with jimin.”  

- The guest wing in Namjoon’s house is comfortable with a main bedroom, a secondary bedroom with two smaller beds, a study, a sitting room, a bathroom, and a balcony that looks over the ocean the door already open to let in the cool sea breeze and alleviate some of the balmy heat that lingers from the day.  Hoseok and Jungkook are a little more subdued in their exploring. Now that you think about it- you realize you’ve never stayed in a house this grand. 

- Your old cottage was a hovel, and your student dorm at the medical school you’d attended only slightly worse, even when you’d been a child, you’d been passed from relative to relative, always shoved in back rooms or closets for space. You’d never- not until Yoongi- really been given enough space. 

- It’s not that you were abused or mistreated, it just that having such a large family in such a world with so little hardly made it easy. You rarely think about your family now, or what little of it might remain. You hadn’t been well taken care of as a kid, left mostly to your own devices, and you don’t feel guilty- you never have, for suddenly disappearing with Yoongi a little over 3 years ago.  

- But oh, how different your life is now, how different a life you’re giving your children. Hoseok shifts and climbs onto the big bed in the main bedroom. “careful of your claws Hobi” you remind him as he settles with a humph in the generous display of velvet throw pillows perfectly arranged at the headboard. Jungkook beside you lists into your leg and you tug him up into your arms, nearly already asleep and relaxing against you fully.

- Hoseok only wakes when the housekeeper shows, plopping a bowl of soup and some bread on the small table and setting down a dish of warm milk on the bedside table. Hoseok’s snout pokes out from under the pillows and he hums in thanks, his tongue darting out to lap it up.  

- You thank her while you try to wrestle Jungkook into some pajamas, the youngers so uncoordinated in his sleepiness, you don’t realize until you’re in-between the rich sheets and pressed to the cloudlike softness of the mattress that it’s the first time you’ve slept in a real bed in a few years.

- You also realize you’d seen hide nor hair of Namjoon’s mate, but you guess that can wait for tomorrow. Yoongi’s told you more than a few stories about the dragon and fairy couple, and you’d begun to look forward to meeting Jimin a little bit.

- In your sleep, you dream you’re running through a garden, searching along the edge of a camellia path for someone, something, red and white and pink flowers leading the way. You hasten into a run and break out into a wide space, a dark curly colored head shoots up, hands hovering over a lily blossom, dark eyes on you.

- “You shouldn’t be here.” he says, voice deep and melodic. his lips purse, and he plucks one petal of the lily, you watch as the petal hardens to glass in his hands, shattering with a tinkle when he drops it. “but I guess I’ll be glad for some company after so long.”

- You wake with a start, the sun shining through the open balcony doors and the smell of lily’s stinging your nose, the sea ebbs and flows the lul of crashing waves clams your sudden panic. Yoongi’s face pressed into the nape of your neck. He grumbles when you sit up, pulling you back in close, “too early” he mumbles, pressing slow and sleepy kisses against your bare shoulder, the strap of your nightgown slipped down. You don’t remember when he came in, but you guess it must have been late.

- You turn to press a kiss to his sleepy face, eyes still closed, his mouth tugging up into the gummy smile that you love so much as you cuddle in closer. But your bed is suspiciously cold and absent of your children, and you know with a new place to explore they must have been too excited to sleep, you internally blanch when you think of the mischief they must be getting up to.

- but the bed is warm and even more comfortable When Yoongi grumbles and turns to scent mark you, and you hope that namjoon or the housekeeper is keeping an eye on them, at least for a little while longer so you can enjoy a quiet morning with yoongi. The events of yesterday come crashing down on your shoulders like a lead weight. yoongi stills by your throat, sensing your sudden discomfort. You ask Yoongi about the soul bond.

- he sits back against the pillows tugging you close to rest your cheek on his bare chest. his rough hands drawing aimless circles on the skin of your back. “It’s an old kind of magic Usually between two dragons not of the same family. it’s kind of an assurance to keep groups together really.  It’s been a long time since they’ve regularly happened- and usually- it only happens when dragons are under stress” he looks down at you where you pepper kisses on his chest. “Now that I think about it, it kind of makes sense that Hoseok would need one after losing his family.”

- “Is it usually romantic or platonic??” you ask, feeling something strange curl in your stomach, trepidation maybe “it’s not like a mating mark is it?” you can’t help but feel like you’re out of your depth here, there is so much information about dragon kind that you’d been unaware of. you hadn’t realized how little you’d known about their basic political system or even their education system until you came to the city and heard about the flying school and magic academy.  

- “No, it’s platonic mostly- it’s more like-” Yoongi gives a frustrated sigh “Namjoon has a soul bonded partner that isn’t Jimin- you know Seokjin-“ “your sorcerer friend that I haven’t gotten around to meeting yet? how many others do you have across the globe that you won’t introduce me to?” 

-Yoongi nips at your jaw playfully, “can you really blame me for wanting to keep you to myself my love?” he growls, suddenly flipping you over and pressing your back into the soft mattress, his hand riching up your thigh- taking your nightgown with it.  the pads of his fingers are careful and slow as they press in. 

- By the time you and Yoongi truly rouse to join the rest of the house for breakfast on the patio, your sons have absolutely terrorized the staff and Namjoon, who seems to eye them with something like appreciation, the book in front of him forgotten. Watching from the head of the table with amusement as Hoseok shifts to be able to reach across the table for more butter better and then shifts back. 

- The fresh bread smells sweet and cinnamony and Jungkook seems to already have eaten his fill with sweet elderberry preserve smeared across his face. Jungkook prattles to namjoon a mile a minute and asks about a billion questions about the ocean, mermaids, and pirates from the sound of it.

- He drops off abruptly and smiles when you and yoongi appear from the double doors. “mom you gotta try this it’s so yummy!”  Hoseok pouts back, “I’m telling you the strawberry is better,” he holds out a little peace for you to try and the lump of jam slides off the side and onto the table cloth. 

- You apologize for the mess but the same head housekeeper just gives you a smile and says that they’d both love to show you the ocean when you’re ready for some exploring today. They’d already made the climb down to the water's edge, and Hoseok tells you that there is a little private beach at the bottom and a set of stairs perfect for you and Jungkook to take. 

- Jungkook and Hoseok’s hair is already curly from the saltwater. as you comb through Hobi’s curls and sit down next to him, yoongi sits across from you next to Jungkook, already prepared with a cloth to wipe his cheeks. yoongi grumbles, “how in the world did you get it in your hair Koo?” he says as he dabs at Jungkooks black curls. 

- Both Yoongi and Namjoon are a little more subdued than the rest of you- having stayed up late into the night to talk, but you make polite small talk with namjoon about the book he’s forgotten about, and he promises to show you the library at one point “though really- Jimin’s the one who has a thing for collecting books” 

-“No wonder the two of them get along,” you say, nudging yoongi with your foot. and it’s true- a seizable portion of Yoongi’s hoard in the mountains back home consists entirely of books. rare ones, old ones, “do you hoard books or more of just- some of the usual stuff?” you don’t see any cases of splendor, fine fabrics or jewels, only the brightly colored roses that line the patio glimmer.

- Namjoon blushes, his horns- once again turning pink in his silver hair, “Uhm no- I hoard other things- you know I’m an ice dragon right?” you nod. Even as the sun starts to warm into mid-morning namjoon looks unbothered by the warmth. a gust of cold air coming from him whenever he shifts in his chair. “well- the reason why I moved south in the first place is because my hoarded object is plants and there aren’t very many that grow where I’m from.” 

-Suddenly, the variety of roses and the gardens that swath the property makes sense, as well as the greenhouse that almost dwarves it. “of course, I’m not that great at taking care of them- Jimin helps me a lot- really where is he- I should go get him or else he’ll sleep away the day-” 

- It's funny, one-moment Namjoon’s staff are setting you out some sandwiches, namjoon is just sitting up to go get jimin and the next moment a man, a very naked full-sized man, is falling down onto the table. His bare feet knocking the teacups over,

- You have a face full of very pert ass, nothing on him save for the lacelike wings spurting out of his back, his blonde hair curling at his nape. “you called for me? lover?” he purrs “I was wondering when you where gonna come back to bed-“ he starts, voice low and seductive,

- You barely get your hands in front of Hoseok eyes as yoongi smacks both over Jungkooks. Namjoon- sat on the other side of the table- gets the full view going bright red, his horns the same color as the roses behind him.   

- “Jimin!” Namjoon screeches, tone scalding. Yoongi starts to laugh.

a/n: A ‘hoarded object’ is the object that a dragon feels the instinctual urge to collect. there are four types of dragons, the type that does not hoard at all, the kind that dosent mind what they hoard as long as it’s shiny (Hoseok, though he does show a preference over gold things vs. silver), dragons that have a slight preference (yoongi- he’s not really sure if he likes books a lot, or if it’s his hoarded object), 

and the last type, dragons that hoard one thing and only one thing, this can be literally anything- lamps, pets, teacups, rubies, beta fish, or in namjoon’s case- plants, though he does have a preference for things that flower and bonsai cherry trees. 

If you liked this chapter please consider donating to my kofi! 

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Comte AU Event

Aight because I have Comte brainworms (is this a surprise to anybody I sure hope not), there’s something I’ve just been thinking about a lot ever since completing one of the story events a month ago:

The cover art being very sexy aside, I naturally did Comte’s story event and I have yet to move on. Namely because of one specific line. (Disclaimer: Keep in mind I don’t mean to say I’m an expert, I just translate for fun--I don’t have the same prowess as an official linguist. That being said starts the circus music let the show go on)

"...it amazed me. You never stopped trying, never stopped helping others or gave up on them--even while every day was a living hell for you."

This is the line I want to dive into, but before I can really talk about it, we need proper context. 

Event spoilers below:

This event is a little different since it’s an AU, so the mansion and its residents don’t exist. (Comte lives in the mansion on his own, but it’s not the same one we know.) Instead Comte, Leo, and Arthur are stand alone suitors who have turned MC into a vampire. Because MC has no clear memory of how and/or why it happened, MC is seeking vengeance against her paired hottie--and fully intends to end their life one way or another.

Aside from how sexy revenge is and how much I love the enemies to lovers trope, Comte’s entire storyline gave me more life than I can humanly convey. Here goes nothing!

So it begins with MC knocking on his door and Comte answers it and literally just stares at her silently like some kind of Furby. MC starts out by saying she’s been trying to narrow down the bastard that ruined her life and her search has finally brought her to his doorstep. She basically demands the truth from him and he just keeps. Staring owlishly (lmao). He eventually relents and tells her that a conversation is much better held inside, and invites her into his home to talk. 

She's sus as hell but enters the house, and he asks if she's had blood. This stops her in her tracks, shook, and her monologue drifts to explain a few things. When she woke up years ago, a new vampire, she had instructions to approach the Rouge/Blanc dispensary for what she needed. The staff there told her that everything was paid for, and she continued to receive support from an unnamed benefactor. She asked them for the identity of this person, but they were beholden to customer confidentiality. As such, she's been searching for information to narrow down her target for years until she finally found him tonight.

Despite the years it doesn't mean she's any more comfortable with her new existence. She notes that she still tends to stick to drinking Blanc--only drinking Rouge (in other words, blood) when she has no other choice. When Comte puts the Rouge on the table, she becomes notably unsettled. She's thirsty, but she won't concede to his request that she drink it; she refuses.

(I feel like he can probably tell because he's her sire/because of his experience with vampires). Comte--naturally--refuses to let her go hungry, so he knocks it back and kisses her to get her to drink it. He lets go as soon as she's swallowed it, and doesn't resist when she shoves him off. She rails at him about how awful he is for doing that, he agrees. She asks if he was the one that killed her parents, he confirms with blasé indifference. She's fuming quietly, but she notes that he doesn't really look happy or triumphant about it. What he's saying isn't reaching his eyes; his gaze is distant and sad. And it's confusing her. Isn't he supposed to be the enemy?

She's lost in her thoughts and unresponsive until there's a loud cry from outside the house, the shriek of a nearby owl. She snaps out of her daze to see that she still has his hand in a vice grip from when she shoved him off, and his skin is blanched--she cut off his circulation from the pressure. She releases him, startled, but he says nothing. 

She's trying to sort out what's going on, and doesn't have enough information to really piece anything together. She wants to hate him but things aren't making sense. Why did her parents have to die in the first place? Why does he bother keeping her alive at his own expense? Even just now, what he did felt more like an attempt to get her to eat than anything else. Why isn’t he more malicious? This MC is desperate for answers, and she says as much: "What are you hiding…?" 

Comte doesn't answer her, just averts his gaze and remains silent. MC decides she won't do anything until she learns the full extent of what happened the night she was turned. Furthermore, she's well aware of Comte’s status being a problem. If she goes too far without proper motive, the aristocracy could come back to bite her in the ass. (The implication here is that she's more concerned about being wrong and living with that regret, rather than any necessity to protect herself. The state of his gaze--the melancholy there--keeps eating at her. Until she knows why, she won't move forward.) 

Comte is shocked that she demands to live alongside him in the mansion, but he doesn't take any issue with it. He says the mansion is pointlessly huge for one person anyway--she's welcome to stay. Either way she wins with this arrangement: either she gets the truth or she finds an effective way to destroy him by the end. And so their little cohabitation begins!

After a timeskip, MC recounts how she's been spending her days in the mansion. She's been tidying around the house, both in the hopes of finding evidence and/or in the hopes of repaying all the years of living on his assistance. He doesn't stop her, letting her do as she pleases and keeping his distance.

One day, she's about to step out into town to grab some groceries. Comte approaches at the front door, cautioning her to be safe--there have been many reports of scuffles/dangerous encounters. MC brushes him off, unsurprised he knows what's going on in town. He's very well connected to the aristocracy, and she notes that he's often at dinner gatherings and parties when he's not home. She insists she can't let her guard down, that he can't be trusted; no matter how kind he is to her face.

Another day, he asks her to attend a ball later in the week. He tells her she's under no obligation to stay with him while they're there, just that he wants her to take some time and relax--to have fun. She tries to insist that going to something like that would be more stressful than fun but he won’t hear of any protest, walking away before she can fully reject the outing. (Comte, an idiot, speed-walking out of the room: and that is what we call finessed). She sighs, thinking she'll be nothing but a burden to him given her lack of knowledge about events like that. She doesn't really know the proper etiquette or how to dance, it’s completely out of her depth.

Surprising no one at all Comte buys MC a dress and accessories to match regardless, and when she comes down the staircase leading to the front door he's awestruck. He tells her she's beautiful and she's miffed by the raw sincerity, trying to remind herself that he is eeeeevil. He knows how to talk to women given his status, he's just smooth talking... (She's trying to convince herself, essentially.)

And so they go, and she's a bit of a wallflower. He leaves her alone--doesn't want to bother her--while she sticks close to one wall. Several men ask her to dance, but she politely declines. Her monologue explains that, given what she is and the fact that she’s only living for revenge, she sees no merit in trying to court human men. She sees it as irresponsible and inevitably disastrous, and…

[Given the nature of what I am I just can't. I can't fall in love with a human man. Besides, the only person I really want to dance with is...as much as I hate it, my line of sight keeps drifting to Comte. Suddenly he looks up and meets my gaze, but I hurriedly look away--my heart pounding in my chest. Why. In a room full to the brim with people, why do my eyes keep looking for him. Whatever, time to go cool off for a bit.]

She leaves the ballroom--mortified at herself--to get some fresh air. Not five minutes into trying to figure out whatever the hell is going on with her shitshow of a life, a man appears asking what she’s doing alone. And da da da d a Zelda treasure chest sound effect he whips out a knife covered in blood and tries to stab MC. Naturally, because I’m an idiot, my first thought was:

TW: knife attack

TW: homicides by serial killer

But it turns out our local serial killer remains nameless in this event, so I can point no fingers. MC is panicking about needing to run and frozen in place from the shock, but Comte appears to pull her out of range--knife sinking into his back. He doesn’t react much to the violence as the attacker runs away, yanking out the knife and focused on checking her for any wounds. She’s still reeling from how quickly he reacted, and he reassures her (probably at the sight of her bewildered/worried look) that law enforcement is on alert in the area. They’ll find him, they’ll arrest him. 

She tries to ask him why. Why would he protect her like that? His first instinct was to take the hit and ensure her safety first, and it doesn’t make sense. Comte reassures her again, joking that purebloods are sturdy. See? The wound’s already healed c:

[Even though I've been spending all this time trying to get my revenge on him, my heart stopped when he was attacked. As if to reassure me, frozen and speechless, Comte smiles gently. This person.......I can't do it. I can't kill him without meaning, without being sure of the truth.]

"...Comte, I can tell you're a good person. What happened that night, so many years ago?" Because even now, he's still protecting me. "Please...tell me the truth. I want to know." 

[I know this isn't the time or place, but if I don't know I can't worry about him with a clear head.]

TW: human trafficking and drugging unconscious

Comte concedes and goes into what happened that night so many years ago. Apparently he was acquainted with her parents long before the incident, and they fell into debt as a result of gambling. He approached their home in the hopes of paying them a visit, checking up on them, only to encounter tragedy. They intended to sell their daughter off and the man they ended up making a deal with more or less slaughtered them all in cold blood. The reason MC doesn’t remember any of this was because her parents drugged her the night it happened. No consciousness, no resistance.

"In that room suffused in the odor of blood and despair, I found you, MC." Her pained, struggling cry is what led him into that room--and seeing how desperately she was fighting to survive, he turned her against all his better judgement. Feeling certain she would hate him forever for the choice he made compounded by her terrible circumstance, he bailed, leaving her instructions and resources to survive on her own. 

"Sold off by your own parents, attacked by a serial killer, seconds from death. I thought....I thought telling you about it would only bring you pain, that it would leave you numb from the shock and despair. That's why I kept it from you.”

"...After turning you, I was consumed by regret. I felt certain you would hate me for the choice I made. So I left." [When I don't know what to say, he keeps talking.] "But I was worried about you even so. I tailed you quietly, making sure you were getting along okay. I was fully aware you wanted to kill me for what I'd done. Even so, I wanted to check on you." 

And that is where the line comes in.

"...it amazed me. You never stopped trying, never stopped helping others or gave up on them--even while every day was a living hell for you."

He admits that he fell in love with her after a point. And she’s baffled, considering she’s been looking for every reason to tear him apart--assuming he was the perpetrator when he actually saved her life. She protests immediately, asking how he could possibly feel that way after the level of vitriol and judgement she’s levied against him when he was only trying to help.

"That's not true at all. At heart, you're a very kind young lady. You haven't raised a hand against me all this time. And even when you considered me to be a repulsive presence, you were worried about me." 

At this MC is conflicted--because his words are a further extension of his equanimity. He’s well aware that he brought about all the confusion by not being honest, but it’s also clear there was no ill intent involved in that decision. He was concerned; hitting her with that level of misfortune and senseless terror all at once could have been incredibly destructive to her health. (This isn’t to say he made the ‘right’ decision; I don’t think there is any right decision in the face of such a complex situation. Given he takes full responsibility for what happened and does his best to help her, I think that’s a fair response.)

This is essentially where the common rt ends. But because I’m feral for Comte and enjoy talking about him, I’ll finish up the summary and then go on to do my analysis.

After that riveting assault, MC is feeling very lost about how to move forward. Her fury at Comte’s injustice has all but evaporated, which means a complete re-evaluation of how she’s going to move forward from now on. Does she continue with her revenge anyway, still angry for the dishonesty? Or does she try something new?

If you do the premium end that means choosing to forgive Comte and climb him (as he deserves). Therefore I, being an intellectual, chose to ride him into the sunset.

The premium end begins with Comte taking her to another ball because the first one kind of went to shit and he feels bad about it (retraumatization was not in the plan...). And so MC basically does the same thing as the first time, just vibin and taking in the scenery, thinking things over. Comte’s concerned about her not having fun, so he approaches her to ask if she’s feeling okay. He makes it clear that he really doesn’t mind if she dances with someone else--even if he admitted his feelings for her. She doesn’t owe him anything, and he has no intention of imposing on her future.

"Whatever it is you choose to do, I don't mind. I just want you to be happy"

[This person is so, so gentle...His words penetrate deep and settle with warmth over my heart, my chest light.] "Comte I.......I don't want to dance with anyone but you." [I still don't know what to do about the future, but for now I think following what my heart is telling me is the best move] 

"!!!....well then, if you insist..."

Comte’s just:

He’s beyond shocked, but accepts her invitation when she confirms it’s what she wants to do. Leading her in all his infinite grace, MC marvels at his ability to dance so elegantly--even with a partner who’s deadweight, like her. She also finds it astounding how easily he makes her forget what they are, how easily she just enjoys the moment; no turmoil, no lingering in the worst of her miseries. She’s just...having fun? For the first time in so very long.

[Comte murmurs in the short distance, clear remorse on his face--as though he can't help it.] 

"MC, it's kind of you, honestly. That you'd give me the time of day, that you'd agree to dance with me. But I...I'm the one that turned you. There's no denying or escaping that fact. If it's you, I'm ready to accept any consequence. If you want me gone, you're free to attack me. If you just want to be as far away from me as possible--to live your life in peace and solitude--I will do everything in my power to help you." 

[He said it as if he was trying to convince himself. Like he was trying to remember why he couldn't assume more of this single dance together, why he couldn't let hope emerge from this single shared moment.] 

[.....I'm not that kind, Comte. I asked because it's you.....Feeling his warmth beneath my hands, I come to a decision.]

There’s a timeskip, and then MC--being the badass that she is--knocks on Comte’s door the night of the crescent moon. He lets her inside more than ready to accept her judgement, whatever it may be. MC asks about his feelings, seeks to confirm that he still loves her before she confesses herself. 

"Comte. Comte you said--that you loved me right?" 

"Yes that's correct...no matter how much you might hate me, these feelings won't change. I love you." 

[Hearing those words again sets my chest on fire. And I decide to tell him my honest feelings.] 

"I love you too. But......I've held a misguided grudge against you for so long, is it okay for me to love you now?" 

[Can that misunderstanding really be forgiven? Am I allowed to love you? Comte's eyes widen, and the breathtaking gold of his eyes shimmer/waver.] 

"...shouldn't that be my line? I mean even despite the circumstances, I still made the choice to turn you :o Can you really forgive me?" 

"...If I'm honest, I still have a hard time drinking blood and I'm a little scared of an immortal life. But......I think if I could spend that eternity at your side, I could find the means to smile again. And....the thing is....I also want to see you smile, to make sure you remember how to smile." 

".................." [Le Comte stared at me, before extending his hand. And he hugged me so, so tightly.] "MC......." 

[In that single word all the raw emotion of ten years can be heard. It was an indescribable sound--one that spoke of an unimaginable, impossible love. This person loves me so very dearly.]

The event ends with them biting each other as proof of their bond, essentially a vow to stay together moving forward. It felt very much like the shared act of biting was a promise of love, how vampires might get married or commit to each other romantically. The summary essentially ends here.

Here’s where the semi-meta comes in, because I literally just can’t stop thinking about the implications of this event. 

"...it amazed me. You never stopped trying, never stopped helping others or gave up on them--even while every day was a living hell for you."

I just...I just don’t even know where to begin with how hard this line hits. Comte’s MS conveys this sentiment powerfully too, but there’s just something about them choosing to emphasize it yet again. The reason Comte falls in love every time has to do with his MC’s strength, her ability to surmount remarkable obstacles with so much poise. She’s deeply in tune with her reality, but no less relentlessly positive. She won’t burden others with her problems, and she’ll do everything in her power to move forward in constructive ways.

Even when every day was a living hell. Both Comte and Leonardo perceive eternity to be something of a curse; an endless sentence. Whether it means suffering boredom, reliving tragedy, or going nigh numb from the loneliness--being an immortal creature isn’t always sunshine and rainbows. 

And that’s exactly why I think he fell in love with this MC? I don’t think his feelings would have run half as deep if it was just anyone. He doesn’t strike me as the type to get attached easily. Because if he’s going to have a life partner, he needs someone who's going to be able to roll with whatever life throws their way for conceivable lifetimes. Somebody that loses heart quickly or is easily prone to delusion would suffer eternally, and the last thing he wants is to subject a person to that. MC gives him hope certainly, but she’s also emblematic of a kind of fortitude he both needs on a personal level and she would need to be beside him. It’s interesting because it’s a responsible choice on his part, but also just very befitting of his nature. He’s somebody that staunchly believes in the ability of good to prevail, but he’s also realistic about it. He knows doing the right thing isn’t necessarily easy; he does it because he could never live with himself if he did otherwise. 

(Think about Comte’s approach with Jeanne. It meant years of being on the receiving end of hatred he didn’t deserve, but he didn’t mind if it meant Jeanne could find a way to heal. It’s not the most practical or immediate solution, but it is the most restorative option. Comte doesn’t care that he spends years living alongside Jeanne’s outspoken displeasure and even violent outbursts. Why? Because it’s all a means to a greater, better end. If he has to suffer a little discomfort, he’s willing to make that sacrifice. That’s the thing with Comte; intentionality is everything. Comte’s intention is to help. Whether that’s a short or long process, a smooth or rough process, he’s going to do what he can within his means.)

That dynamic is reflected in his respect for this MC who is filled with fury on behalf of all the life that she lost unfairly, her relentless pursuit for the truth of what happened to her. Notice, she’s more interested in truth than retaliation. She refuses to lay an intentionally violent hand on Comte until she knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was worthy of being on the receiving end of that retribution. Who does that sound like? If you guessed Comte himself, then you see where I’m going with this. What MC and Comte have in common is that they have a sharp emotional fortitude that they keep under tight, rational control. They will react with sizable passion or hurt or warmth--but their externalized reaction will vary depending on the situation. If it’s a minor annoyance, they have the patience to diffuse and try to alleviate the problem. If it’s on a larger scale or it’s an egregious violation of their personhood, then they up the ante accordingly.

Think about it. MC appears on Comte’s doorstep full of righteous rage and even when he confirms what he’s “done,” she hesitates. Her emotional intelligence is telling her something isn’t aligning properly; something isn’t quite right. She forgoes immediate revenge for proper answers instead. MC and Comte have this kind of balance, where they are more than happy to hear people out--but there is a limit to that propensity. Push them too far? They’ll bust your head. I guess I’m particularly interested in the way Comte seems to yearn for that kind of identification with a partner. Somebody who has similar values: not merciless, but also won’t bend when a situation requires confrontation.

All that being said, there was one more aspect of the story that I was endlessly interested in. I’m going to link the post here, in that it’s tangentially related to this meta; it really made me better able to articulate what I mean to say. 

“Never let generosity hold hostages; courtesy is an essential tool, but a cruel master.”

I’m gonna let that sink in for a moment.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot, because it’s very rare that I read something once and I’m forced to read it several more times before I begin to understand it. My interpretation of that line is to say that benevolence can showcase your good will to others; it can be a reliable proof of good character, and a way to help someone. But the problem comes when people do conventionally/perceived generous things with the explicit intent of repayment by some measure. While it is only responsible to care for others as they care for you, you shouldn’t make impossible sacrifices with the expectation that the other person is indebted to you--especially if the other party had no ability to consent to that sacrifice.

How does this apply to Comte in this event story? Er, in almost every way humanly (vampirely?) possible, in my view. Comte turns MC into a vampire after seeing her plight, largely because he gets the impression that she was fighting for her life--had impossibly survived against all odds. The situation is complicated though. MC wasn’t fully conscious when it happened, so she doesn’t have a proper understanding of how everything went down. So what does Comte do? If he can’t bear to face her or reveal the truth of how horribly she died, he at least gives her every means to survive and makes sure she’s doing okay since she’s technically an orphan now. He doesn’t interfere with her life, or demand recognition for the life he gave her. He fully understands that she wasn’t able to properly consent to his decision in that split second moment, and even if she had he doesn’t see it as a debt she owes him now. He was able to help save her life for at least a little while longer, and so he did. It was as simple as that. He had the ability, she had the need. That’s the end.

But Comte’s emotional acuity doesn’t just end here. Even when she comes after him to kill him, he doesn’t respond with anger because he knows full well he hasn’t explained. Sure he’s sacrificing their relationship (the ability to get along on half-decent terms) but if it means she can find a reason to live, then so be it. He doesn’t lord that sacrifice over her head by any extension; he’s just sad about it because he thinks she’s a wonderful person, and he doesn’t want to be estranged from her. But in his view, her needs supercede his wants.

He doesn’t force her to do chores around the house during her stay, she does it to keep herself busy and search for the truth about his intentions. He even asks her to take breaks and look after herself first, more concerned with her well-being than the state of the mansion. At the ball, he doesn’t force her to linger around him or dance with him despite inviting her there and giving her the dress/jewelry to attend. He leaves her alone as she wishes, only glancing at her to make sure she’s doing okay. When he takes the hit from the violent stranger--a knife straight to the back--he jokes about being s t r o n k, never once blaming her for the wound he sustains no matter how brief.

He explains that he didn’t tell her the truth because it was incredibly traumatic, and it’s only in the safety of the moment--after years of having conceived of her own selfhood beyond the event--that she’s able to take the weight of what happened without falling apart. The premium end just keeps hammering this shit home. He openly tells her she doesn’t have to dance with him at all, that she doesn’t owe him anything just because he likes her. He’s aware it’s unrequited (he thinks) and he doesn’t go on and on about all the sacrifices he made for her with the expectation she’ll reciprocate. He just did what he wanted to do, nothing more. If she feels the same way by some miracle, that’s amazing! If she doesn’t, as it would be valid if not, that’s fair too; no hard feelings.

She has to be the one to invite him to dance and insist. She’s the one that smiles fondly when he’s telling her that she can choose whatever outcome she pleases, even if it means wanting to live as far as possible from him. There is no guilt trip, no expectation, and no pressure. She has the freedom to leave or stay. It is entirely dependent on her own will. For the first time in a lifetime of loss, her agency is restored to her. That’s huge.

She even admits that she feels bad about being so angry when he really was just trying to help, now that she can understand what he’s doing. And he’s openly shocked to hear it. He had no intention of expecting or asking for an apology. He understands it was his own imposition, both biting her and obscuring the truth, that led to her setting her mind on vengeance. 

I’ve probably hit it home harder than necessary, but Comte just feels like the epitome of good will in the best way possible. One can argue he’s a little selfish for keeping the truth from her for so long, but honestly? Given the horrific trauma of her situation--and his personal fear of making her miserable for an eternity when all he wanted was to give her a second chance away from all that hurt--I feel like his reaction was closer to considerate and reasonable. Comte doesn’t sacrifice anything he isn’t unwilling to give, or anything that would cripple him to give. Furthermore, he doesn’t make love out to be a kind of 1:1. He recognizes that while he might know her well, she doesn’t know squat about him. And, as such, he doesn’t expect her to trust his intentions or reciprocate his feelings in any capacity. It’s just a delightful surprise when she does. When he tells her that he loves her that first time, it’s an explanation. Not a guilt trip. He knows she won’t be satisfied years of protecting her simply because “he wanted to” and he promised her the truth, so he tells her. Not only that, in the aftermath he repeatedly reminds her she isn’t bound to him. She commits to him before he relies on any kind of active bond between both of them.

I don’t know, maybe I think too hard about it, but I feel like the older I get the more I see a shortage of this kind of fine-tuned caring about the other person in a relationship. I guess I just enjoy seeing a man give a woman her health and agency without treating her wellness/happiness like it’s a burden to his life? First and foremost Comte really is concerned with her self-actualization before his feelings can have any place in their relationship. And even when he does confess his love, it isn’t a way to force her to feel indebted to him; it’s an attempt to erase any false pretenses. MC loves him, not because she has nowhere else to go, but because he’s proven himself time and again a worthy companion. Always putting her first, always worried about her feelings, paying such close attention that he sees her to the core of who she is despite her iron front--kind, beneath all that hurt. They spend so much of this event really listening to each other despite such difficult circumstances, and it leads to a deep and abiding love against all odds. And I find that incredibly moving...

Oh and, before I forget? Let me circle back for a moment:

"...it amazed me. You never stopped trying, never stopped helping others or gave up on them--even while every day was a living hell for you."

The best part about this event is that--while Comte says this about MC--this is also precisely the reason MC falls in love with Comte too, even if it’s never stated outright. Because despite how lonely and tired he may be of eternity, no matter how many troubles he’s facing himself, he never stops trying to help and support others (namely MC) in any way he can.

Drops mic