#i finally decided to do some spring cleaning and dust off the cobwebs on my old drafts

[thesunshinebunny]

When the world falls apart, the only thing we can hold onto is ourselves (Part VI)

Series Master list

pairing: canon Eren Jaeger x reader

content: Angst, unstable relationship, breakup, smut/nswf+18, major character death, violence, blood (obviously), war (pretty obvious)

summary: War and hate. It’s what defined the world at this exact moment. You failed your comrades, and by failing them, you failed yourself. Your relationship is hanging by a thread and your enemies will not only be found on the other side of the sea, but also in the mind of the person you love the most. How will you take the reins in the face of so much destruction?

Chapter summary: After weeks of tension and mutual pining, Eren and reader finally succumb to their most carnal and animalistic desires.

Word Count: 7.9k

His cold hands were still resting on my skin. The body heat of each of us was reversing until we became the temperature of the other. In what had been burning for a moment, now my cheeks felt cold, icy, the skin on my chest and hips began to feel discomfort and the wind that was blowing did nothing but make me shiver. Instead, Eren's hands became warm, pleasant to the touch, but uncomfortable and unsure at the same time towards my sanity. The fingers of his left hand were moving over my hip in an attempt to massage a bruise that had just risen above the bone, a bruise that I had just noticed when his hand moved slightly up my shirt to lay flat on my skin and flesh. His right hand, still positioned on my cheek, ran the few tears that continued to fall, just as the trail of the already dry traces that this salty stream had left behind disappeared.

The situation wasn’t comforting at all. The burning sensation and fever that had reigned over my body moments before, had dissipated like a bucket of cold water on a small fire. Now I was cold, stiff, shivering and with memories of previous years haunting my mind, memories that once were to be saved to treasure when we were all old and at peace, but now it seemed that they only brought sadness and misfortune.

My eyes were fixed, unseeing, on Eren's bare chest. His skin showed no signs of hits or bruises like mine, damn it, the only thing that could be distinguished was his beefy abs, worked for years, stained with dirt and a few tiny blades of grass stuck to them. I watched as his chest swelled with each inhalation he took, his breathing calmed, no traces of the hectic fight or the makeout session. My hands, already tired from continuing to maintain pressure, now I limited myself to moving my fingers from the inside and out of my palm, occasionally brushing Eren's pelvis with my nails. I stretched them out, letting my fingertips rest on his hip, the small leaves adhering to his skin tickled my fingers and with slight movements I took them out one by one and left them on the grass around us... Some of them stuck to my fingers because of the humidity and the mud accumulated on the rib.

I cleaned them with my palms, but noticing that they didn’t come off easily, I simply ran my hands through my pants, staining them even more with dirt, some leaves fell to the floor due to friction in front of the fabric, others were beautifully placed on the thighs, in U-shapes or even folded into a perfect spiral. Some even broke in two and left little green spots on top of the brown ones. Eren withdrew his hand from my cheek when felt my fingers and nails stop passing through his pelvis and began to play with the small leaves. His hand removed mine from my thighs and ran every trace of wet leaves to the floor in one simple, clean motion. Now that hand was the one that rested on the flesh of my left thigh, moving up and down, occasionally grasping the soft parts and squeezing them from time to time.

I placed my hands over my thighs again, this time over the connection between my legs and my hips, preventing some unseemly movement of Eren's hand from reaching that area without my consent. I fixed my eyes on these and just at that moment I could notice how pale they were, the bruises were still visible and the blood had completely dried, the knuckles were red and little skin began to come out as bruises began to form on top all the long fingers. My left wrist had received the same treatment, a huge bruise covered a large part of the ligament and the bone of the arm, it was even slightly displaced, probably dislocated, but I didn’t feel any pain, not even when moving it, even if it was a few centimeters. As for my right hand, I had only received a few blows on the knuckles, the occasional broken fingernail, but without showing the lower flesh.

My palms, well, I don't know if I could call them palms anymore. I turned both hands to check them and the sight didn’t make me feel better, it only made me relapse into the realization of how mistreated my body was; both were full of dirt, green spots, the product of the viscous liquid that the broken leaves left, and dried blood, apart from the large superficial cut on the right palm. They looked like shit, I have to admit. I let out a long sigh at such a miserable image. My eyes burned, but I couldn't give myself the freedom to close them because I knew that if I did, more tears would shoot out.

"Hey" Eren's hand that was for minutes massaging my hip was placed under my chin and raised my head once more, without heaviness or restrictions on my part.

My view was blocked by his long fingers, which like his torso, didn’t show any sign of injury or bruises, except for a few small traces of dried blood, my blood. I couldn’t see with complete clarity if his fingertips were equally stained, I tried to turn the head to where he was caressing me a few moments ago to find some indication of blood or injury, but Eren prevented me by bringing my face back to his, lifting it more and bringing it closer to his eyes. They were the same as I had seen them a few minutes ago, greyish turquoise and glowly. God, that glow, that damn glow. Within all possible situations, in any place, they had to return to shine here and now. It wasn’t fair.

It wasn't fair at all.

I directed my hands to his face, placing each one on his cheeks and cradling him between them. I couldn't tell if the action caught him off guard, what I can say is that I could feel, for a thousandth of a second, his eyes widen at the touch. Color that had been lost for months had returned for a moment, as a small blush on his cheeks. For a moment, I swear for a moment, the Eren I knew was back. My eyes inspected his, trying to find that color that I had spotted, trying to find a sign of the Eren that I had loved so much, a sign that he was still there, hidden, curled up like an infant before the oh so many shadows surrounded him.

"You have beautiful eyes" It was a cruel reality but true in the same way.

His eyes were always one of his most impressive features I had ever noticed from a person. Huge, with a lot of accumulated life, a strong and bright color, unable to take my eyes off them. Those same eyes that brought security were the ones that made me doubt my actions and generated deep sadness in me; Those eyes that once made me tremble with exaltation now made me cry.

It was the same eyes that I had lost myself in on a hot sunny day at the cabin along with Levi and our little squad. That spring day, pollen in the air, the cabin full of dust and cobwebs, the boys doing their homework, while Eren and I were cleaning up. Each one cleaning in our small space, without speaking to us unless necessary, such as asking for help to move a piece of furniture if one couldn’t, or ask for the cleaning tool the other had to clean a small cobweb under a window frame. The dirty and torn glasses, in need of a delicate hand that could remove all traces of the excessive abuse during the years that this small home was disabled. I decided to clean all glasses on the lower level, leaving Eren to clean the door on both the outside and inside.

As I was cleaning the window closest to the front door, I noticed how the frames were starting to crack, a few splinters coming to the surface and being capable of injuring anyone who was not careful enough. I ran the rag through a fairly open crack, trying to remove as many splinters as possible, even dislodging the broken piece out of the frame entirely. Little by little the wood was detaching, some pieces stuck to the skin of my fingers, others fell right on my feet, and when I was finally able to completely detach the broken piece, I left it on the table in full view of all of them, so that when someone re-entered the cabin, I could warn them of the care with the respective window.

I decided to investigate more parts of the frame to see if I found more loose pieces when out of the corner of my eye I saw a figure move outside the window. During my little out of all reality I had completely forgotten that Eren was cleaning right on the other side of the wall. I could see him perfectly from where I was standing. His arms, while long compared to mine, didn’t reach up to the wood of the door, having to stand on tiptoe and stretch a little to reach the dust that had accumulated in that area. His hair gathered in a cloth, preventing dirt from falling on it, made a funny image at the same time... almost cute. His young face, now half covered with the cloth, was getting younger and the way in which he stretched, reminded me of the image of a little boy in the middle of the bazaar of my town trying to reach a basket of cookies without the mother found out.

But it was neither his figure nor the way his hair was flattened and took that shape little by little, but the way in which the sunset sun reflected exactly on his eyes, turning them a lush green, much lighter and more colorful. Although his eyes were directed towards the door, I could see them without complications; I could see his eyelashes rise up and the smallest of the ends bent and tangled between them, I could see the small shiny points turn a warm color while the clean wood of the door was reflected in the iris.

At some point, I opened the window outward, allowing me to stretch my body and settle on the lower wood, resting my abdomen and elbows, holding my head in my hands as I watched the incredible scene in front of me. The sun's rays hit Eren's body, giving him an orange ring of light over his entire figure, the cloth about to come loose and fall from his head because of how badly tied it was and his hands were dirty while also being delicate when holding the rag between his fingers, perhaps an act Levi had taught him while he was alone in his squad.

The rag slipped from his hand and the moment he reached down to grab it, his face turned straight to mine, allowing me to see his eyes much more conspicuously. The play of light and shadow, the way that nature itself reflected in them was the greatest work of art that I had ever seen, perhaps it was due to the fact that I hadn’t seen many people with green eyes, much less with that tonality. of green that Eren had inherited. What beautiful eyes. I thought I had said it to myself, but apparently I had unconsciously let it out in a slight sigh, as Eren raised his head in less than a second, straight at me. His eyes were wide and his face reflected surprise.

Those eyes in which I had been spellbound for long minutes were staring at me, penetrating strongly on mine, as if looking for a sign that his owner had clearly heard what the wind had brought to his ears.

"What? Did you get lost in my incredible eyes? " his humorous words and his wicked smile were what brought me back to reality. They were like an open hand spanking across the face.

My face was decomposed for a moment, eyes open and my mouth ajar, even my hands stopped supporting my head causing me to almost fall to the ground. I tried to compose myself as best I could, fixing my shirt, eliminating the wrinkles that had formed from being with my torso on the uncomfortable wood, and pulling some hair that had fallen over my eyes to one side.

"Yeah, you wish" I threw my body back and stretched out my arm to close the window, but not before giving him a half smile and admiring his eyes for the last time before going back to work.

Now I was in front of those eyes once more, with that memory stabbing a knife in the middle of my heart and mind, but with my body being drawn to them like that hot spring day.

I brought my face close to his, one hand running through his hair while the other roamed his chapped, swollen lips. The moment felt soft, calm, even though the weight on our shoulders was harder and more invasive. His hand on my chin was now caressing my neck lightly, as if he were passing a feather over my jugular, the hand that had been caressing my leg, now had placed on my lower back, stretching the fingers and feeling the greater amount of skin under his as much as possible. We both leaned forward and when our lips met again, time seemed to melt.

This time, there was no fight between our lips, there was no resistance, we just dedicated ourselves to melting into each other along with time. Everything felt delicate, Eren's touch on my back, my fingers on his scalp, his hand on my neck pulling me closer to him. Chest to chest, an almost impossible union for less garments that both of us had on, but still it was enough to feel the beating of the other's heart. No heartbeat was neither too fast nor too slow, they were just in perfect harmony, it was… perfect.

I could feel his lashes brush against mine with every turn of the head I took to sink the kiss, his locks tickling my cheeks, and his tongue, intrusive as it was, was welcome. My senses intensified, causing me to wrap myself in a sea of ​​sensations and little by little the current took me to the deepest waters, feeling how the weight of my body was getting smaller and smaller, as if my body itself made smaller.

I felt vulnerable and it was the same Eren who brought these senses to the surface, the same one who could put them in a bottle, throw them into the sea and lose them in the waves, at the same time that he could bring them back with the simple movement of his hand.

We parted ways to reconnect once more, this time harder and needy. His hands were placed on either side of my waist, pulling me closer to him with more force, connecting our torsos even more and bumping our hips. I groaned when I felt his crotch against mine, I was perfectly positioned on him and every feverish kiss, every movement, made me grind on him. His tongue ran through my mouth as if it were the last time he would do it, it felt abrupt, as if a prayer was taking place, wishing that we would never disconnect from each other. He ran through every part of me, colliding with mine even my teeth, he was desperate and it showed. His teeth took my lower lip between them, biting and tugging slightly, giving me the perfect opportunity to elicit a guttural moan as I felt his cock already erect against my entrance.

He took my mouth back into his, sliding his hands down to the soft flesh of my ass, each hand over the round cheeks, and squeezed, marking his fingers hard over them. He took the opportunity to guide me on his cock back and forth, movements slow but accurate and hard, each grind felt like fire on my center, traveling up my back towards the brain. I was beginning to feel light in the head, my coherence was clouded and the only thing I could think was more, more, more.

At this point I just grunting at every grind he made me do, lifting me slightly to come down again and position myself even closer to his crotch. I bit his upper lip in an attempt to stifle a moan as I felt a wet spot begin to form in the middle of my pants and his dick leaning right in that same spot.

"Don't keep the moans to yourself" he lifted his lips from mine and moved down from my cheek to my neck.

I kept grinding on him involuntarily, no longer with his help, but still feeling his colossal hands squeeze my ass and hold me steady in my movements. He didn't want me to stop and honestly, I didn’t to stop either. The pressure I felt on his dick was too much, even his lips would detach from my skin from time to time, releasing small but notorious grunts, given the pleasure that this simple but filthy action generated to us.

"Fuck, Eren" I moaned as I hit his pelvis once more, this time harder than before. I felt him chuckling as I noticed how my moans began to come out of my vocal chords, with no intention of stopping. The friction felt delicious, we were both getting off with each other without even being in the main event.

My fingers tangled in his hair, drawing his face impossibly closer to my neck. I felt his lips leave a thin wet line on the hollow of my clavicle and sting lightly with his teeth. His hands couldn't stay still, the more friction we generated, the more I grinded on him, the more they moved through my body; they passed over my thighs, my back, the sides of my stomach to my chest.

I expanded my chest on the touch of him, preparing myself for what was to come, letting out a groan as I felt his fingers reach the limits of my nipples. They were a little cold and generated a perfect contrast with the heat that began to emanate from within, starting to make my nipples erect under his fingertips. Took one between his two fingers and the heat that was gradually forming in the tip of my stomach was getting bigger. The need for him not only generated great pleasure on my fibers, but also impatience, Eren was characterized by being a damn teaser when it came to sex.

His fingers eased my poor, swollen nipple and pulled my shirt off my shoulders, leaving only my leather suit like Eren, both now in direct contact with our body heat. The shirt fell to the ground at the same time that his lips were detached from my neck, he dedicated himself to arranging the shirt on the grass while still having me straddling him. The same happened with his jacket and shirt, which had been much closer to us than I had imagined. The three garments made a poor case of cover on the grass, but that was enough for Eren to roll me onto his back and settle on top of me.

Lips against lips, hands running over each other's body, savoring on our fingertips the heat of the skin, each muscle and bone marked, the hair of both getting tangled up in the environment, spread over the fabric in my case or Eren's falling towards my face if not spread over my fingers.

Eren settled to the side, leaving a small space between us, and let his hand run over my stomach, slowly, delicately, roaming around my entire torso until it reached my hips. His hand stopped to explore, feeling the bones outlining the body and the beginnings of the legs. His touch was so soft that he even tickled me. His fingers reached a sensitive area, drawing little giggles against my lips, but Eren's intentions weren’t to make me laugh and they were more than clear. Noticing my giggles climbing, he took the opportunity to reach under my pants, even under my underwear. Now the giggles were transformed into moans and sighs when I felt his finger brush my most needy area.

He was starting to burn, little beads of sweat were forming on the back of my neck and forehead, and he wasn't being fair at all. His finger was just brushing, again, and again, and again through my center, giving me the necessary pleasure to moan in his mouth, but never enough. It wasn't enough and Eren knew it, he was torturing me in the most delicious and infuriating way he knew. I guided my hand to his, undoing the buttons on the stained pants, now having more space and comfort, and placed it over his, applying just enough pressure for him to realize how needy I was.

And it worked. Eren heeded my silent prayer and inserted a finger, coming into contact with my wet walls. I moaned as I felt his finger slide slowly inside, his simple finger never fails to make me see stars and this case was no different. It's pumping slowly, too slowly, too much. This was no time for delicacies. The tip brushed the right places, driving the heat in my stomach to expand more, more and more.

"Eren" I growled hoping that my pathetic voice carried enough prayer to give me what I needed.

Eren inserted another finger, twisting it and applying more pressure to my sore spot. I felt like my body was becoming lighter as the pleasure was taking possession. Each twist, each impulse, each pressure was like an electric shock on my spine that ran through the veins and spread throughout the body, until there was no space left untouched. My back arched as I felt both fingers brush against my sweet spot, making Eren giggle over my ear.

"How do my fingers feel inside?" he whispered dangerously into my ear, biting the lobe and generating a new electrical reaction over me.

It was impossible for me to speak, the only thing that came out of my mouth were moans after moans. My free hand went to Eren's neck, I pulled him as close as I could to my face. My gaze was cloudy and narrowed, it was difficult to maintain control. His eyes were not on mine, rather they were on my crotch, seeing how his fingers disappeared without difficulty inside me and came out again and again, wetting them in the process. I tried to draw him to my lips to avoid giving an answer to his question, which had entered one ear and left the other. His fingers wreaked havoc inside me and every time I tried to open my mouth to answer, a new moan came out, making me impossible every second. I was sure that if this continued, I would end up forgetting the question.

"Say it or I'll stop and I'll leave you naked for others to find you" his voice had deepened, and being so close to my ear it only generated more vibrations under my spine.

My head was spinning, trying to formulate an answer before stammering it. It was difficult considering that his fingers had picked up the pace, moving in and out of my hole with a steady rhythm and able to propel my body along with them, and his breath over my ear and neck.

"It - ah - it feels good" it really felt good, I hadn't felt this good in months.

My answer made him smile, apart from twisting his fingers once more before applying pressure to my weak point. I couldn't tell if what came out of my mouth was a moan or a scream, or perhaps a guttural groan, but what I was sure was the fact I was close, too close, to cum. I felt like that heat at the tip of my stomach expanded more, almost without having more space in my body to expand. I was close, my legs twisting on the clothing, spreading it and disarming the covering, and just as I was about to feel the long-awaited launch, it stopped. The damned bastard had stopped.

My eyes went wide at the desperation in my body to break free. Internally I was screaming, I was angry but the trembling of my legs and my arms didn't let me do much. He wanted to curse him, ask him a thousand and a few things, demand an explanation of why in his right mind, if he still had one, it occurred him to stop. Before I could utter a word, Eren straightened up and placed his hands on my hips, exactly above the limits of my pants, squeezing them firmly but gently. I looked at him expecting him to do something, but when he didn't move after a few seconds, I looked up at his. He was looking directly at me, and he was the one waiting for a signal to continue.

I swallowed hard, placed my hands over his and guided them down, raising my butt just enough that we could remove the annoying garment. In our rush and clouded heads, we didn't realize that the shoes were still on, the pants got stuck, and we only realized our mistake when we couldn't get it down after multiple fussing. We turn our gazes to the pants, then to us. We started laughing, it was like reliving our first time, clumsy, inexperienced, but at the same time funny and careful.

Eren shed my shoes, trying to caress my legs every time the worn leather slipped off me. From so much being using them for two days in a row, using them not only for walking and treating patients, but also for running where they shouldn't be used, the leather had stuck to my legs, marking them and leaving blisters and bruises from the knees to the toes. Eren ran his hands over each one, being extra careful when he came across a blister or where the flesh was hot red. He stroked each mark that had formed on the skin, running down to his ankles, lifted my right leg over his shoulder, and began to kiss those same marks around my foot. The kisses were soft, as if it were the skin of a newborn baby, his strong but secure hand held the inside of my leg and massaged the area, which I had not realized how tense and beaten it was until I stared at the scene Eren was putting on.

Between that tour inspecting the discomfort in my leg, my eyes were at the mercy of Eren's, feverish and dark. My gaze, my half-parted lips and my ragged breathing was what Eren needed to place my other leg on his other shoulder and massage both equally, giving the same treatment that he gave to the right leg to the left. Now with half my body suspended in the air, I couldn't help but think about the notorious wet spot that surely had left seconds behind thanks to the excitement. I could feel it stick right in the middle of my crotch.

Without taking his eyes off mine, his fingers slowly descended to the strap of my underwear and slowly slid it over my legs until they reached my ankles. I pulled my legs away from his shoulders and pulled them together so he could peel off the fine fabric and discard it somewhere on the grass. My heart was beating uncontrollably in my chest, like I was about to shoot out. After Eren got rid of that miserable garment, I reconnected his lips to mine, stretching and spreading my legs so I could position myself between them. The kiss was short but effective, pulling me out of any thoughts that might have appeared without permission.

I felt Eren's hand on my leg, cupping below the knee and going palm down toward my ankle. His lips were now kissing my sternum, pressing gently on my rib cage. He looked at me, trying to find ... any reaction? Doubt? But there were none. I let my head fall back, letting my hand run through his hair as he roamed my chest and stretched my legs even more with his hands. Every now and then he bit my light skin with his teeth, generating gasps and grunts from me; Reactions that went straight to his cock, still covered and leaning against my core.

I raised my hips to connect with his dick, receiving a gasp from him as a groan escaped me as I felt him hard and throbbing against me. I hadn’t realized that Eren was just as excited as me, his kisses made thinking much more complicated, each pressure from his mouth made the knot in my lower stomach become more present. He went down, leaving a path of kisses for each part of ​​my skin, until he reached my crotch and reached back to see how his work was reflecting in me.

He brought his face in front of where I needed it most and without being able to say anything to him, not even asking what I wanted, he leaned forward; I could feel how his eyes were fixed on me, his gaze penetrating and even if I wasn’t looking at him, I knew that he was observing every reaction, involuntary or not, on my face and on my body. He was so close that I could feel his breath on me, I waited patiently to feel his mouth on that area, but my mouth opened wide when I noticed that his tongue had gone directly to my thigh, giving it a long and wide lick against my fold.

He knew what he was doing, he knew it very well, and he knew he wasn't going to stop until he got what he wanted. Between licks, he gave himself the opportunity to bite the inside of my thigh, making me moan and, according to what he had told me once, were sweet and addictive.

"Eren-" my voice was half out when I felt his tongue pass my core.

He gave a long lick, not once but twice. My hand settled on the back of his head, trying to draw him closer to me. My fingers applied too much force just as my legs involuntarily closed over his head, crushing it against my thighs. He felt warm and soft, softer than his fingers, but at the same time it wasn't enough. It was not a virtue of me to be patient and knowing him, I knew that he would torture me and tease me until I was left as a wet and needy bundle, begging for a release. I was writhing and shaking, my thighs crushing his head more and more with each passage of his tongue as the arousal spread over my stomach.

He raised his hand to my chest, pinning me to the floor as he left cat licks on my crotch, the other instead going to his underwear, running it down far enough to remove his dick. In my damn delusion, he was preparing me to feel his fingers enter my wet hole again, but Eren had other plans. He grabbed the back of my thighs and wrapped them around his waist, positioning himself in between and letting his cock rest between my stomach. He moved his hips forward, giving him all the pleasure against my skin. I looked at him, my lips apart, releasing long sighs, waiting for him to move a little more or turn his attention back to me, avoiding giving his sweet toss a second time.

He guided the tip of his cock towards my entrance, trying to insert it without a little preparation before. Okay, I was wet, but the situation was getting unfair at any moment. Not only unfair, but also too fast and violent. He lunged in, making me scream at such intrusion, instead he groaning as he slid his cock through my walls.

"Fuck" he growled as he placed himself completely inside me.

After weeks, months, without any interaction, or anything like it, the feeling was overwhelming. My muscles flexed at his grip, fluttering around his throbbing, venous cock, his raspy, low voice continuing to send tingles around my spine. I didn't have time to fully adjust to him, moving quickly on top of me, thrusting in and out at a fast pace, hitting the areas most in need within me. It was pleasant, but it hurt, and discomfort outweighed pleasure.

"Wait, just-wait a minute" I tried to sound straight but his shoves clouded my mind, at the same time that they tensed my body, immobilizing me.

I brought a hand to his chest, trying to stop him, but I only made his thrusts go deeper, more intense from him.

"I said wait a fucking minute!"

I reached forward, now both of us face to face, without any bond between our bodies. My hands formed into fists and went straight to his shoulders, pushing him backwards, staying within the limits of our clothes. Without waiting a second, I straddled him, taking his cock right under my entrance. I felt it throbbing, spasming, the heat that emanated from my crotch was enough for him to growl through his teeth. I guided my hand to where our hips met, lifting a little to reach his cock without complications. I could feel every one of his prominent veins on the palm of my hand, it was radiating heat and starting to leak pre-cum from the tip. I ran my thumb through his veins, going from the base to the tip torturously slow. Pumping his cock firmly, examining his reactions; I felt like my ego was inflated when I saw him with his lips parted, moaning on my hand, it was like having him at my complete mercy. To be honest, seeing him in that state, needy, slowly breaking apart beneath me, was the boost I needed to completely destroy him, as he had broken me. I felt powerful and all I needed was to get his dirty cock in my hand and give him a hand job to have him like a wet stray dog.

But ... as I said before, patience was not my virtue, so just as quickly I had started pumping him, I quickly carried him towards my core, sliding his cock back inside, moaning down my throat as I did so. The way his body trembled at the feel of my walls contracting was delicious.

"Fuck you're so tight," he moaned with his jaw open.

Now it was me who created the rhythm, each thrust I took increased the speed slightly. I stood on his shoulders, moving my palms between his collarbone and his neck, I didn't know what to do with them and I couldn't keep them still. The excitement was building very well and my body was responding on its own. Eren placed one hand on my hip, helping me maintain my thrusts, while the other positioned himself in the crook of my neck, bringing my forehead against his.

"You like this, uh? Do you like to be fuckingthe damn traitor of the country?"

I did nothing but moan at such a vulgar comment, but worst of all, they had reached my crotch; my walls had twisted when I heard him so close to me. My voice had caught in my throat, suffocating me, nothing else came out of my mouth but combinations between moans and grunts. Eren seemed to like it as he began to move more vigorously, he sheathed himself completely inside me, opening his mouth to moan under his breath as he bottoms out.

"You feel so good baby, so so good, my good little baby"

I was tighter than other times, maybe the situation, maybe the position, but fuck the reason, it felt so, so good. I buried my face in the hollow of his shoulder to keep my moans from coming out more prominent, the way his cock settled inside me and brushed every wall virtuously made my body shudder and my eyes go blank. A thrust that touched my sore spot and pulled me closer to Eren at the way he thrust, made me bite his shoulder, hard and deep.

Eren let out a groan as he felt his skin break open and begin to bleed, I could feel the taste of iron on my mouth. It hadn't been my intention to hurt him, but I couldn't control my strength or the way my hips circled as the thrusts picked up speed. 

He reached out his hand to grab my hair and bend my neck back, exposing my face to him.

"Shit, that's it baby, mount that cock, I know you like it" the way our hips moved up and down and back and forth in a fiery way until they reached the flush of butt made me shudder. The way he was buried in me seemed like he was trying to reach even deeper, trying to reach my stomach; and it was right there where I felt it most. "I know you love it, you always loved it"

Every movement of him in and out was majestic, it was the best I had felt in months, even better than our previous times. His movements grew steadier, faster, and harder. I felt my body tense up completely, I arched my back against him and kept moving my hips faster, having more friction to work with as I felt the orgasm reach me.

“Are you gonna cum? I can feel your walls tightening"

I nodded my head repeatedly, unable to formulate a word. Eren captured my mouth with his, moving us both at a speed I would never have imagined, our skin colliding over and over and over. The only thing around us was the rapid slapping of skin against skin, the dirty sound of my hole taking him so well, squeezing him more and more.

A strong thrust was what I needed to collapse. I screamed, not caring if anyone was near to listen. Eren's name slipped from my lips repeatedly, as if I was saying a prayer and he alone was my salvation. My back arched again, my hands went to his hair, tousling it and letting brown strands fall over his forehead. My body felt light, much lighter, as if the stress had been released along with the orgasm. I creamed on Eren's cock and his thighs, our legs were wet and my spasms moved any liquid in different directions over our bodies.

In my bliss I hadn’t realized that Eren had never stopped moving, the difference was he’s now going in and out more slowly, much more slowly than we had started.

While we were going slow, I was completely sensitive, and the more thrusts Eren made, the overstimulation took my body by leaps and bounds. No longer moans came from my mouth, but small and soft whines every time he buried himself inside me.

"I love you" his voice came out as a sigh, even lower than that, but loud enough for me to hear.

He froze me a second time, it was already becoming a bad habit on his part. His words were like a dagger to the heart, one that stabbed me over and over and over again. I felt my chest begin to ache, but our movements never stopped. Eren kept pounding against me, like he wanted to accompany his movements with his "sweet" words. My nails dug into his shoulders, trying to dissipate the emotional pain from my chest to the physical pain above him.

"Shut up" I tried to speak still with my head turning thousands of times, avoiding letting out a moan.

His cock kept pounding in just the right places, the rhythm our bodies kept was too sweet, my still erect nipples brushing against his chest, generating more friction than he wanted. His lips still on my neck, each thrust was an open kiss on the jugular.

"I love you" again. There were those filthy words again, words that I needed to have been told months ago, even weeks just as we were returning from Marley. I didn't need them when we were in the middle of a heated sex session in the middle of the woods.

"Stop lying" I bit my lower lip as I felt my walls begin to contract.

We weren't moving at the speed I wanted and that was making me hysterical. I tried to move at my own pace, to move my hips over his pelvis and have the friction that I badly needed to cum, but Eren stopped me. He had a strong grip on my hip and no matter how many inches I moved, he would bring me back to the original position, torturing me with his slow step. His lips moved up to my cheek, giving me a small kiss before moving again and pushing me against him, both of them being chest to chest.

Another kiss, and another, and another. Each one to the rhythm of our tapping.

"I'm not lying" Eren moaned into my ear, reaching for my hair and pulling it back. His mouth now close to mine, a few millimeters closer, reaching out to kiss me.

"SHUT UP! ... please ... shut up" I pulled him away from me, throwing him to the floor, now I was on top of him.

His face twisted as he hit the ground and he closed his eyes due to the pain on his back. My hands were on either side of his head, giving me more room to settle in and examine his face perfectly. A small layer of sweat had formed on his forehead and the root of his scalp, little hickeys he had left behind, which were already fading, and his hair was already completely matted; What was once a bun, now it barely held a few strands, leaving the vast majority of the hair down and spilling over the clothes.

His eyes widened again when I placed my hands on his cheeks. His gaze was the same as always, perhaps he was showing a little sadness, or perhaps fatigue.

Please, just ... don’t

"…okay"

I began to move my hips again in a slow, gentle circular motion, trying to rebuild the mood. We maintained eye contact, neither of us wanted to stop looking at the other, even though our eyes narrowed for the little pleasure. My mouth parted as I started to increase my speed, but still going slowly, without having any hint of speed or exasperation in my movements. It was sensual, tender… desperate. His cock went in and out without difficulty, feeling it on every wall, noticing how it began to twist and get bigger as my walls tightened.

My hands didn't hold me for long, ending up collapsing on his chest. Eren never took his hands off my hips, now they helped me keep up, occasionally massaging the softness of my butt cheeks. I moaned as I felt the tip of his cock reach my deepest spot repeatedly.

One of his hands went straight to the back of my neck and squeezed, drawing me to him and capturing my mouth. His thrusts were increasing in speed and hardness, the rhythm already lost and our kisses sloppies and disheveled.

“Fuck-I’ m…”I spoke between kisses, unable to articulate words between his thrusts and his lips didn’t detach from mine. I wasn't going to last long, I knew it. Eren groaned at hearing my shaky voice and his breathing became faster.

"I know, cum again baby, cum on this cock" our hips moved in unison at a rhythm impossible to explain, if there was a rhythm to begin with. We were going fast, but at the same time slow, we tried to impact our weak spots with each other. We avoided separating, even grew closer, as if we were about to merge. Eren was holding me against his chest as close as possible.

The knot in my stomach, that familiar feeling, accumulated and began to expand in a gigantic way, my eyes narrowed but able to see the height of Eren in his eyes, as well as mine reflected in them. "Please, cum with me"

It was all I needed. My walls contracted and fluids began to flow out of my core, soaking us both and leaving a mess not only on our bodies, but also on our clothes. I moan his name in that moment of ecstasy, wasted, tired and satisfied. Eren, still at his prayer, followed me shortly after, shooting in and his heat filling me completely. His body tensed for a few moments beneath me, his hands circling my back and head as he continued to spread his cum inside me.

I felt him shooting each load, filling me up really well. I kept contracting, still gasping for air and shaking, but neither of us had any intention of separating, much less Eren of coming out. After weeks of languishing a bit of peace, as much as the situation wasn’t the right one, we had both found it. I rested my cheek on his chest, listening to his racing heart and allowing his fingers to wrap around my hair.

We were calm, only our breaths were heard around and our hearts trying to return to their normal rhythm. I relaxed when I felt his hands caress me in the same way that he had caressed me in our previous times, it was that kind of caress that allowed you to stay all the time in the world in the arms of your loved one. They were those caresses that I had longed to receive, the same ones that I was afraid of being used against me and confusing me more than I already was.

Eren gave me a light kiss on the temple, massaging my lower back and still keeping me close to him. I let him cradle me to his chest for a while longer, realizing that the moment we changed, we would be back on our own sides, ready to continue fighting for what we believed was fair.

This time, only this time, I would let myself be carried away, even to the point of being unconscious in his arms and succumbing to a much needed sleep.

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[chokememrstark]

There Is A House In New Orleans // Starker

Words: 1896

Warnings: Death, Ghosts, Alternative Universe, Mentions of Violence and Murder

Summary: During a work trip, Tony meets a young boy on his way home by the name of Peter. He quickly finds himself drawn to him and spends his evenings talking to him over the fence of his garden, but something about Peter is weird. Tony only finds out what it is after returning home and it turns everything upside down.

Notes: Special thanks to @darker-soft-starker for giving me feedback on it ;D

Read on AO3!

-----

Tony is on a business trip and on his way back to his hotel after lunch when he walks past a clearly abandoned house. Despite the obvious neglect and decay, which indicates it's been abandoned for many years, he can see a boy of about 17 in the overgrown garden.

He stops for a moment and watches him pick up flowers and then the boy looks up, giving him a smile. There's soft music filling the air, Tony assumes it's coming from inside the house, but after the smile the boy turns away and Tony leaves. It’s a bit weird, but well, he might just enjoy the flowers, right?

The next day, Tony sees him again. And the day after as well. Always outside, always with the same music playing, soft and calm but at the same time... eerie. As if something about the whole scene isn’t how it should be. As if he is watching something he isn’s supposed to see.

After four days, Tony calls out for the boy and talks to him. Much to his surprised, the boy seems eager for conversation and company and soon, Tony finds himself spending hours chatting with him while leaning over the fence.

The boy's name is Peter and he's very sweet and nice and funny, but something about him seems off. Tony can't say what it is, but it doesn’t matter, he enjoys talking to him and comes back to do just that for the following days. He believes things between them go well until he asks Peter to join him for dinner one evening.

The boy gives him a sad smile and tells him he can't go. After some talking, he admits that he can't leave. Confused, Tony asks why but he stays quiet and doesn't want to tell. Maybe his parents won’t allow him to leave with older men? Or maybe there’s a different reason, Tony doesn’t know. Still, he comes back to talk and soon, the invitation seems almost forgotten.

A few days later, Tony has to leave to return home. He's sad leaving Peter and Peter is even more sad that he has to go. Peter has no phone so he can't call him, so Tony promises to write instead. But once he's back home, things start to feel weird.

He does send a letter, but it gets returned with a note on it saying it can't be delivered.

Tony is even more confused and starts to dig and what he finds out is nothing he expected. He just wants to see if he mixed up the address but then he finds the newspaper articles and once the first headline pops up, he's too stunned to stop going further.

Teenage boy brutally murdered while parents are on vacation.

The Parker Mystery - Who killed Peter Parker?

Twenty years later, the killer is still unknown - Mr. and Mrs. Parker cleared of suspicion.

The more Tony reads, the more he starts to understand. And slowly, he's piecing things together. Especially Peter's reaction to Tony inviting him out for dinner.

"I'd love to join you, Tony, but I can't leave, I'm sorry. I have to stay here."

Was it that he couldn't leave because he was dead? That his spirit was bound to the place where he died? Did Tony actually talk to the ghost of a murdered boy or was this all a huge coincidence?

Finally, Tony decides that he needs to know for real and returns to New Orleans. When he comes back to the house, however, Peter is nowhere to be found. Frowning, Tony steps into the garden for the first time, the wooden fence door squeaking when he pushes it open.

"Peter?" Tony asks carefully, but there's no answer. He walks up to the door and pushes it and, without much surprise, he finds it unlocked.

The inside of the house confirms his first impression that it's been abandoned immediately and he feels his heart sink. There's dust and cobwebs everywhere and on the walls, several black cloths are hanging - they cover mirrors, he knows that. It's a tradition when someone died.

Slowly, Tony explores the rooms, still calling out for Peter but never getting an answer. Most rooms are empty, some furniture is knocked over here and there, but every room looks like it's been untouched for years.

And then, he finds a room with something strange. It looks to have been a living room of sorts, but the carpet on the floor looks weathered more than the ones in other rooms and right in the middle is an old Vitrola.

Curious, Tony steps up to it and kneels down, inspecting it. It's not dusty at all and looks very clean, even the record that's on it looks almost flawless. He reaches out to turn the crank and after a moment, the Vitrola springs to life.

Then, Tony hears it again. The beautiful music that he always heard while talking to Peter and it fills his heart with so much sadness he just wants to cry.

"You shouldn't have come back," a soft voice suddenly says and Tony spins around, finding Peter standing in the door. "There is nothing here for you."

"You are here," Tony says quietly and stands up, but he looks hesitant. "It's true, isn't it?"

Peter looks up, smiling sadly. "That I'm dead?" he asks and Tony nods silently. "It is, yes. I don't even know how long it's been, time doesn't really mean much anymore…"

"But… why can I see you? Why can I talk to you?" It makes no sense, he never believed in ghosts and this is just so surreal.

Peter sighs and pushes himself off the doorframe to walk over to Tony. He gently takes one of his hands and smiles.

"I've been here my whole life," he explains, not missing the shudder going through Tony at his touch. He's cold, he knows that. "I was born here and I died here and I never left, not even now…"

"You can touch me," Tony whispers and covers Peter's hands with his own. "I can touch you."

"You can, but only you," Peter nods. "I don't know how it works, my parents… they never saw or heard me. I tried to talk to them for so long and they got so scared they just left one day and never came back. No one else ever noticed me."

"So, you've been all alone for all those years?" Tony asks. Peter doesn't answer, he just looks at him with so much sadness in his eyes it breaks his heart.

"Some men were here a few days ago," Peter eventually says and pulls away from Tony to walk over to the floor length windows that provide a full view of the garden. "They didn't come inside, but I heard them talk."

"What did they do here?" Tony asks confused and Peter sighs.

"They want to buy the house," he says quietly. "They called it a disgrace and an eyesore…"

Tony gulps and in his head he replays all the stories he read as a kid about ghosts. If they destroy the house…

"What will happen if they do it?" he asks, somehow scared of the answer. "What will happen to you?"

"I… I don't know," Peter admits and wraps his arms around himself. "I know it's not pretty but it was once… I can't make it pretty again, I can't do anything…"

"Peter…" Tony feels so sad, this isn't right.

"I'm scared, Tony," Peter whispers and looks up at him, tears in his eyes. "What if they want to destroy the house? What about me? Where will I go then?"

Tony doesn't think, he just walks over and pulls Peter into his arms, hugging him as tight as he can. It's a strange feeling because he knows he shouldn't be able to and yet he can. Peter doesn't feel like anyone else but despite the cold and the unfamiliar feeling, despite knowing he's literally dead, he doesn't feel dead. Not to Tony at least.

"I'm so scared, Tony," Peter sniffs and Tony notices without any doubt that the boy is crying.

"It's okay, Peter," he says gently, rubbing the boy's back. "I'll help you, okay? You won't have to go anywhere."

"But the house, they… they want to buy it."

"I won't let them," Tony promises and he's serious. He can't stand seeing Peter so scared and he wants to help him, no matter how. "I'll fix this, alright? I promise I will."

"Thank you, Tony," Peter sniffs and for a long time they just stay like this, Tony holding him tight as the sun slowly sets outside.

-

It's a week later that Tony managed to sort everything out. He found the owners of the place, Peter's parents sold the property a few years after moving to an old lady on the other side of the town, and he managed to buy it off her easily by doubling the offer the other men made.

After that, all he had to do was take care of his own business. It would be a little inconvenient for him, sure, but he didn't care. He could manage his company from anywhere in the world and once he'd have a phone and internet, everything would work out fine.

When he returns to the house, Peter looks scared once more and pretty much runs into his arms as soon as he steps inside.

"Tony! There were even more people here and they talked about renovating and I don't know what to do!" he sobs, clinging to the man helplessly.

"Shhh, it's all good, those people work for me," Tony tells him with a smile and hugs the boy tight.

"For you?"

"They do, yes," Tony smiles and pulls back. "I promised I'd fix this, didn't I?"

"You did, but… but how?" Peter looks so confused it's adorable.

"I bought the property, now it's mine and I'll make sure it will go back to how it was before," he explains, watching Peter's eyes widen.

"R-Really?" he asks shocked. "It's yours now? I don't have to leave?"

"Even better, come, I'll show you," Tony chuckles and leads Peter outside. He walks over to his car that's parked nearby as Peter watches and takes out two suitcases.

"What's this?" Peter asks, earning another smile.

"I figured why stop with buying the house?" Tony shrugs as he carries his belongings inside. "Unless you mind the company?"

"Wait, you'll stay? Here? With me?"

"That's the plan," Tony confirms with a bright smile. "I'll stay and we can fix this place up together, what do you say?"

"Oh my god, thank you, thank you!" Peter throws himself back into Tony's arms so hard he has no other choice but to drop his suitcases and catch the boy, laughing. "Thank you so much, Tony!"

"Of course, darling," Tony laughs, pressing a kiss to Peter's head before hugging him. Is it weird that he moves in with a ghost? Maybe, but he likes Peter and the poor boy doesn't deserve any if this.

"I'm so happy you'll stay, I promise I'll be good and help you as much as I can," Peter promises and Tony can't help but chuckle again.

"I'm happy too, Peter," he smiles softly. "You won't have to be alone anymore, I promise. I'll stay with you."

[stellar-alley]

Everfalls

•Chapter 2•

This is based off of the artwork by oceanteeeth on Instagram! Also shout out to my Beta super.rose.cosplays!

(Summary: Eddie finds his father's best-kept secret. Richie gets some well-awaited news. )

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

~

He travelled about an hour northwest, he continued away from the ocean and deeper into the forest. At times it was almost too thick, but he kept going. The sun had begun to rise when Eddie stumbled upon a sign, 'Welcome To Derry'. He glanced down at his map, so close. And he was close. It took the boy a while to square in on the exact coordinates, but once he did, he knew he'd found his father's secret.

It was a house and a big one at that. It stood tall on the outskirts of the city. Far enough out that he could be one with nature and the residents of Derry wouldn't be a bother. Eddie stood in front of the house and let out a sigh laced with excitement and fulfillment. The moment he stepped onto the property he felt it, he felt the magic of a protection spell wash over him.

Smart one dad...

The bunny looked around and he could practically see it, a forcefield of magic surrounded the house. It also made the house seemingly invisible to anyone that wasn't deemed worthy, which made sense, considering humans never wondered why there was a random house no one owned.  By the way it simply let Eddie pass through, he assumed it was a blood spell. Meaning it only allowed those of the bloodline to pass through or anyone deemed worthy by the one who set the spell, or whoever it was passed onto. With that, he removed the beanie that sat on his head, allowing the cool spring breeze to flow through his hair and tickle his ears, it felt nice.

Well I guess this is mine now

He smiled happily at the house that stood before him. The house was surprisingly fairly clean, the same way all the nature in The All Lands was always kept at bay, magic. Yes, there was some dirt, dust and cobwebs, a broken window even, but it was nothing that Eddie hadn't dealt with in the past. As he walked through the house, he couldn't shake the familiar feeling that he wasn't alone. Somewhere, somehow, he knew his father was with him. Just being in the house-made him feel so much closer to Frank than ever before, with his hat, compass, and now the house.

Eddie did a quick walkthrough of the house. The main floor had the essentials, kitchen, living room, dining room and washroom. The upstairs had 3 bedrooms and a washroom. Eddie quietly placed his bag down on the bay window in the room at the front of the house. He liked the bay window and the bed seemed comfy, a little dusty but nothing a good cleaning won't fix. There was also a basement but Eddie got the chills just looking down the stairs, so he closed the door and decided to check it out another day.

As the bunny stood in the kitchen and admired his new house, he debated where to sit before he hoisted himself up and onto the counter. From there he sat and listened peacefully, the house settling, the birds chirping outside and the odd gust of wind that blew by. He stayed like that for a while, in complete harmony with his surroundings.

Suddenly his leg twitched, something that wasn't rare, but also not a coincidence. A moment later he felt that same twitch vibrate through his entire body. He hopped off the counter and shook it off. Quickly, he tried to calculate how long it's been since he last shifted.

Maybe a couple of days? I've been pretty preoccupied with the council on my back, but still, I've gotta go and fucking run free or something. 

This will be good. It's a new town anyway, so I might as well go do some exploring...

With the plan already laid out in Eddie's head, he marched out of the house and gave it one last look before continuing out onto the front lawn. He found a good spot where the grass wasn't too long and he still had a good view of the road to town.

Being a hybrid has its perks for sure, but being half-animal didn't simply mean you had ears and a tail, there was also the shift. Every hybrid could do it, they need to do it. It's like the animal that resins deep within their soul must be let loose every couple of days, or else it begins to get restless, that's when their animalistic side tends to show. This results in humans creating myths like werewolves and vampires, to explain what was happening to the Ancestors who couldn't show their true colours.  

Although the shift isn't what the humans made it out to be, well not for Eddie at least. He's never met a werewolf so he can't really ask if it's the same but he's heard enough stories to know that it's not as gruesome as humans believe it to be. Anyways, for Eddie, his shift is simple.

The teen began by crouching down, low to the ground and getting a feel for the earth beneath him. Followed by the tingle, the same one that you see when a bunny's nose twitches randomly, that tingle. It starts off in his nose, then the feeling washes over his entire body. Yes, there is some pain since the guy is literally shrinking and growing white fur. But there's a magical essence to it that allows the last little part to simply be overtaken by a quick glowing light. Once the light disappeared, there sat Eddie Kaspbrak, who was now in the form of a small white rabbit.

~

Richie Tozier bolted upright in bed. His entire body was shaking with a feeling he'd never experienced before. His skin was covered in a layer of sweat which caused his curly hair to matt to his forehead. The boy tried to get out of bed but failed as his legs were tangled up in his sheets. After mentally cursing out Sleeping Richie, Awake Richie began to tug his feet free from their silky prisons. Just because his feet were free didn't mean he still wasn't a 6-foot tall clumsy mess, because the moment he set his foot down on the floor and began to stand, a wave of nausea washed over him. Richie fell to his knees, dizzy and confused; he looked down at his hands which were swaying back and forth in a blurry haze. Quickly he reached for his glasses on his nightstand and slapped them on his face, but that only made the nausea worse. Finally, he caved and ran to his washroom and fell to the floor in front of his toilet just in time because he immediately began throwing up everything he'd eaten the day before.

After the vomiting stopped, Richie sat on the floor of his washroom and let the cool tile floor beneath him soothe his overheating body. He tried to remember everything he ate the day previous, attempting to pinpoint the substance that had poisoned him. With no luck, Richie flushed the toilet again for safekeeping and trudged back into his room. He looked over at his alarm clock and saw that it was 8 am on Saturday. Usually, Richie would still be in bed for another 3 hours or so before waking up, but after that incident, he didn't think he'd be able to fall back asleep. So he opted to get an early start on the day.

Of course, Wentworth and Maggie Tozier were already awake and in the kitchen, fixing breakfast and discussing their plans for the day ahead. Only did they stop when their son cleared his throat a little too loudly from where he stood at the entrance of the kitchen. When Wentworth saw his son he froze in his stance, "SHH! Maggie, shhh" He put a finger to his lips and shushed his wife, "I think we just stumbled upon the elusive Richard, darling we haven't seen one of these in ages. Do you know how rare they are?" he asked in astonishment as he spoke in an Australian accent. (It's his Bear Grylls impression)

"Ahaaham funny" Richie deadpanned as his dad dropped the act. "Son! Good to see you up so early, what's the special occasion? Are your friends coming over? Wait, crap is it Christmas?" His jaw dropped suddenly, "Shit... It's your birthday isn't it?".

This actually received a subtle laugh from Richie, his dad always put him in a good mood. "Wentworth gets off a good one” Richie chuckled, “Don't worry dad you're in the clear. But uh- I did do something" He began, unsure how to tell his parents he just puked up his lungs in the upstairs bathroom.

Maggie's brow scrunched together slightly as she took a step towards him, "Are you okay Richie?" her head tilted slightly.

"Y-Yeah... Well, I think so"

"You think so? What happened?" Maggie questioned and began inspecting her son.

"I threw up. But not like- a little, like a lot. Like a lot a lot-"

"We got it Rich" Went's lips were pressed into a thin line as he stopped his son from digging himself into a deeper hole.

"Honey, what happened?" Maggie moved to put one hand on Richie's shoulder and the other on his forehead to feel his temperature, "no fever...".

"I-I don't know" He sounded almost defeated, his eyes stayed on the floor as he continued, "I'm nauseous and sweaty and I feel like my bones are just gonna fucking jump out of my body-"

Went cut in, "Language" with a half-hearted tone.

"I don't know what's wrong with me" Richie finished, finally he looked up to see his parents sharing a knowing glance. It was like they were having a conversation with their eyes, no words were said but Maggie and Went both knew what the other was thinking. "What? What's going on? You two meddling kids better tell me what's up or else I swear to god!" Richie had subconsciously slipped into one of his various voices as he pretended to scold his parents.

"Do you want to or?" Maggie asked Went as she motioned to the two.

"I can do it" Went confirmed as he turned his attention back to his son. "Rich, I know we've talked to you about this before and you're ready for this, we know you are, so don't worry okay? Everybody's first full moon is always a big occasion and it'll really be-".

"MY FIRST FULL MOON?" Richie gasped, his eyes had doubled in size as he stared at his parents in shock, "No way! What? Really?" He asked eagerly, "How are you so sure?".

"You've got all the symptoms. Nausea, vomiting, weak bones, it's all there honey" Maggie pipped up with a small smile, "Aw, my boy! Going through his first transformation already" Her smile only grew wider as she went to hug Richie. He let her hug him only for a moment before he wiggled out of her grasp.

The full moon was a big occasion for the Tozier family, as it was for every other Ancestor. Although the Tozier's didn't associate themselves with the Ancestors in any way, Wentworth left that life behind him when he chose love, all those years ago. Once he was an Ancestor like every other werewolf was, he lived in one of the bigger cities near Maine, the sister city of The All Lands, Everfalls. He grew up there with his parents and his younger brother West. Even with all of the lessons taught to him throughout the years,  at the age of 14 Went still snuck out to the human world and he met a human girl named Margaret, who he'd grow to fall madly in love with. The love birds had a plan to run away and live their lives together, but the council caught a whiff of their little runaway plan. They made Wentworth choose between staying in Everfalls or being forever banished to the human world. (Since an Ancestor could never marry a human) Of course, he chose Maggie, he chose love. He was never the biggest fan of the way the council ran things anyway, so he was more than happy to finally be out of their grasp.

Wentworth and Maggie Tozier went on to get married and even have a kid of their own, Richie Tozier, who we all know and adore. The thing with raising a werewolf in the human world was that it was a challenge keeping their secret, a secret. Both Went and Richie had pointed fluffy wolf ears, instead of normal fleshy human ears, those weren't too hard to hide. Richie got away with it by giving the school some forged doctor's note that claimed he needed to wear a hat because of how the fluorescent lights in the classroom fucked with his hair. So Richie usually wore beanies and snapbacks which hid his wolf ears. But that wasn't all, the father and son also both had long wolf tails that sat right at the bottom of their back. These weren't hard to hide, just more of a pain. Normally Rich would wear multiple layers of sweaters and jackets, so he could hide his tail in the layers. But no matter how he hid it, at the end of the day he always returned home with an ache in his back and a minor headache.

In places like The All Lands and Everfalls, werewolves would've been taught at a young age how to shift from human to wolf and vice versa, but those who were never taught as pups usually experience their first full transformation after their 16th birthday. Richie had turned 16 in March and it was currently May, so it made sense.

"So what are we gonna do? Go terrorize the villagers? Or go plot our revenge against the Ancestors and that damned council?" Richie schemes, he rubbed his hands together in an evil manner, ya know like Dr. Doofenshmirtz.

"Hm yeah maybe" Went played along for a moment before he dropped the act, "Probably just the usual, you, me, down in the cellar".

The Tozier's chose this house for one main reason, aside from the fact that it was DIRT CHEAP, it had a cellar with a hefty door which made it perfect for full moons, so the werewolves wouldn't get out.

"But seriously Rich, now's the time you've really gotta be careful, alright? Any small thing can make you go all wolf and the last thing we need is a call from your teacher claiming you ate another student" Went was cracking a joke but the message still got through.

Even without the full moon, Richie always had to be careful. Whether it was watching his anger or making sure his hat was positioned correctly, he always had to be careful. If he lashed out in class, he'd feel his fangs begin to lengthen in his mouth and need to go to the bathroom to calm himself down. If he got a bad mark on a test and curled his fingers into tight fists. When he'd unclench his fists to find small semi-circle nail marks on the palms of his hands that were on the verge of bleeding because his claws were coming in. He was always careful. 

It's one of the reasons why he used comedy and sarcasm as a defence mechanism. It was a way to get the message across without throwing punches and risk killing his poor victim with his enhanced strength.

"Okay, okay, I get it. I'll be careful. Now can I get something to eat before I go and eat those three little pigs?"

(get it? Cause... ya know, Big Bad Wolf, Richie's a werewolf? Three little pigs? Get it? I know I'm hilarious.)

~

Since it was Saturday, Richie spent the day lounging around the house doing whatever he pleased. He'd start off by playing some video games in the basement and maybe even do some homework in the living room while his parents watched their usual Saturday afternoon cooking shows together. By 3:00 pm the teen werewolf had sprawled out on the floor of his bedroom and read comics.

Ms Marvel had just finished saving Jersey city when Richie closed the comic and stood up. He began to walk out of his room but stopped in the doorway when he noticed the way the sun beamed into his room. The urge to look out his window filled his body as he turned and made his way towards it. 

It was a sunny day for May which was nice, especially since it practically rained the entire month of April. The sun brought a new look to the Tozier's backyard, which Richie's room looked out to. It's warm afternoon light made everything just a little brighter, Richie could feel the edge of his lips tug upwards and into a warm smile with the sunlight that warmed his cheeks.

Something moved. Richie caught it out of the corner of his eye. He titled his head and focused on the spot where he'd seen the movement. The creature was easy to spot as it contrasted against the greenery in the Tozier's backyard. A little ball of white fluff sat peacefully in the grass. Richie smiled a little brighter at the sight of the cute little white rabbit.

Haven't seen one of those in a while

The thought drifted to the surface of Rich's mind as he studied the precious little bunny. Its nose twitched and one of his ears flopped slightly. "Awwe" Richie cooed at the cuteness of the little rodent. He scrunched up his nose as his smile grew wider. 

"Cute, cute, cute" he mumbled to himself and watched the bunny hop off into the hedges.

Later that day when dinner time rolled around the Tozier's sat in comfortable silence with the TV on low in the background. Richie finished chewing on the piece of steak he had in his mouth before he asked, "Have you guys seen any white rabbits lately?". The question stemmed from the fact that Richie had seen countless rabbits throughout his lifetime, yet he couldn't bring himself to remember if any of them had ever been purely white.

Maggie and Wentworth had another silent conversation with their eyes. "No... Why? Did you see one, honey?" Maggie asked with curiosity, she set her fork down on her plate and looked across the table at her son.

"Uh- yeah I saw one when I was reading, it was out in the back" Richie explained, "It's not like a saw an alien" Richie let out a forced chuckle since the air in the room had become tense.

"No, it's just odd. You know why white rabbits are so rare?" Went asked, he didn't wait for a response as he just kept going, "White rabbits are a symbol for magic. If you were to go to any land populated with Ancestors, all you'd see are white rabbits. They rarely ever come onto human territory".

The young werewolf's eyes grew wide, "Wait, so are you telling me that we had an Ancestor on our property today?".

Went scratched his head and contemplated the different options that could explain the event, "No... Not necessarily. Not every white rabbit is part human. Yes, some are-

Maggie cut in, "It could've just been a rabbit who spent too much time in Everfalls or The All Lands. Or maybe it was enchanted?" She looks over at her husband for backup.

"Precisely" He winked at his wife. "I wouldn't worry too much about it Rich. Just let us know if you see it again" Went concluded, he then proceeded to dig into his steak, his incisors had come to a point, his fangs out. Richie lightly rolled his eyes and let an amused huff of air out through his nose before he followed suit and continued his dinner.

Word Count: 3275

Hello ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to chapter 2! I really hope you guys are liking this as much as I like writing this. Let me know in the comments if you liked this chapter and if you're excited to see what happens next!

Don't forget to like, comment and share! It motivates me to write and show you enjoy my content.

See you next Friday with chapter 3!

Until next time

So Long and Goodnight!

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

PROMPTATHON: Obi goes looking for his mother, and Shirayuki (of course) comes with. Shirayuki gets some tastes of Obi's past. Obi's not sure what he expected to find (or not find), but it sure wasn't this.

Prompts are currently closed while I catch up. I will announce when I am open! :)

A/N: I decided to tease this scene from future Noble Lines chapters because this prompt has gone unanswered for far, FAR too long and I am determined to clean out my ask box.

Content warning: Mentions of abuse. Everything kept below the cut not so much for explicit content, but spoilers.

The carriage clatters around them, cobblestones testing the workmanship of hinges and Shirayuki grips her hands together tighter. Each bend in their journey brings a crash of stone to wheel to box, rattling her teeth and the possibilities flitting around in her brain so fiercely that one conclusion is just as elusive as another.

What if he was taking her to his house? Did he have one here? If not, was he taking her to an inn? It wouldn’t be so untoward to assume. Just because he didn’t come to her room to make his claim last night doesn’t mean he… couldn’t. Whenever he wanted.

Shirayuki glances at him out of the corner of her eye, assessing, and he’s- he’s very large. Not just in height but the broadness of the shoulders, his clothes doing little to hide the lean strength that would be much greater than hers should he test it.

Shirayuki unclenches her hands, smoothing them down the folds of her skirt.

Zen had- he had promised that Obi was a good man. A kind man. A man that wouldn’t… press his advantage just because the law said she belonged to him. But back in Tanbarun, she had known far too many men called “good” and “kind” by their peers. They were the type that sent their wives to her apothecary in the middle of the night. A fall down the stairs here, a run in with a cabinet door there - each and every limp and bruise and sprain shielded by a bashful smile and a claim of clumsiness.

Shirayuki has no way of knowing if Obi is of their ilk. Or if Zen was capable of telling the good men apart from those with only good faces. All she knows is that she upset him. Somehow. Someway. And she wishes to make it right, but each second lived in uncertainty clutches at her heart, grabs at her throat until she cannot breathe. 

“Where are we going?” she finally asks out loud.

Obi’s face is illuminated only through the slats between window and curtain, bars of light keeping him more hidden than not and she- she should be nervous, being in a closed carriage like this with a man she knows little of. She is nervous. But he’s- he’s her husband. This stranger is as close as family now, and there’s no one - no Prince nor King nor common man - that would find fault in their closeness, their privacy.

He turns towards her and her eyes drift up to the scar that touches his forehead.

“I wanted to show you something,” he says, voice strange. “About me.”

That does nothing to calm her. If anything, it makes the space feel tighter. “You could just tell me!” she laughs, voice high. “I’m a good listener!”

A smile twitches his lips, lopsided and bordering on fond. “Zen told me.”

The cabin lurches suddenly, the carriage coming to a stop, and she yelps, tumbling forward. It all happens so quickly: Her hands stretch out before her, too little too late, wide eyes latched to bench opposite as she falls towards it. Her body coils, flinching already, preparing for the blossom of pain of her face meeting the sharp edge-

Only for it to not come.

Warmth grasps ahold of her forearms, firm and gentle, and in the stillness of the moment, it takes her a couple of seconds to realize that she is no longer falling. Heart still pounding, body still half expecting the crack of skin to wooden base, her eyes flutter open slowly, tentatively, to reveal golden buttons and black wool mere inches from her face.

“Uhm,” she manages, breathless, the warmth flexing against her, and oh- Oh. Those are. Obi’s hands. Holding her.

Face burning, half wanting the world to swallow her whole, her eyes drag up the row of buttons to the peek of skin above the tie of his cravat. Past the chin and lips and well-shaped nose, she finally meets eyes wide and round as two gold coins.

“Are you-” his voice gives out a little - maybe he needs a lozenge? - and he coughs to clear it. “Are you alright, Miss?”

She stares mutely for a beat too long before their closeness registers. Jolting, she pulls back, Obi’s hands dropping away so quickly that he might have been burned. 

“Uhm,” she says again, so intelligent. “Y-yes. Just fine. Thank you.”

She’s not looking at him, so she cannot match the expression to make sense of his voice when he replies, “Anytime, Miss.”

Swallowing, Shirayuki looks around the carriage, confused. “We stopped,” she says, and really. She’s smarter than this. One day she’ll prove it to him. “What- what happened? Why have we stopped?”

He’s peeking out the window when she feels brave enough to look at him, and the grin on his face doesn’t exactly look… happy. “We’re here.”

Before she can ask where ‘here’ is, the driver opens the door, letting bright midday light pour inside. 

“Come on,” he says, already halfway out. “This should answer your questions.”

Frowning, Shirayuki watches him jump down, turning towards the carriage with a fools grin and hand extend.

Against her better judgement, she reaches out. Takes it.  

And ignores the way her arms still itch maddeningly beneath her clothes. 

~ ~ ~

The neighborhood she spills out into is quiet, idyllic. As close to the peacefulness of nature as one could get in the midst of a Capital. Little trees dot the side of the road, the walkways free of debris and overgrowth. Narrow townhouses press up tightly against one another, each painted in more festive colors than the next, curtains pulled open wide to reveal scenes of ladies taking tea or bent over embroidery. A few seem empty, windows open only to let in the early spring air after a long and hard winter, but Obi is not leading her to any of those.

The house he approaches is a few seasons past due for fresh paint, all the curtains closed up tight against prying eyes. And all at once, Shirayuki’s heart knocks hard against her ribs once again.

“Is this yours?” she asks.

Obi glances over his shoulder, his mouth trembling like she said something funny, and doesn’t answer. Instead, he takes hold of the knocker and raps three times.

Not his, then.

It doesn’t take long before the door shudders, opening by half to reveal the confused face of a girl slightly older than herself. She’s dressed simply, black dress accented by a starched white apron, and Shirayuki doesn’t even get the chance to catch her eye in greeting before the girl’s mouth goes slack.

“I’m sorry for not sending word ahead of me. Everything has happened so quick,” Obi begins, his voice soft with the admission, and this- it is definitely not his house. “But I was hoping that she would see me without notice.”

“Of- of course!” The maid stutters, eyes drifting from him to her then back again. Maybe aware that she is gaping, her gaze drops like a rock to the ground. Opening the door wider, she says, “Please. Come in.”

The house may have some veneer of faded beauty on the outside, but on the inside, it is as if it has been lost in time. Fine paintings of flowers and little fruit shaped figurines wilt under the weight of dust, long abandoned cobwebs floating from fine glass lamps. The silver tea set and silverware, too, has turned, unused and unkempt for too long on their displays, and the intricate wallpaper depicting a garden party in the midst of summer peels a little in the corners.

Shirayuki sneezes.

Obi glances down at her, frowning, and Shirayuki casts him a little apologetic smile. “It’s the dust,” she says, voice low in case the lady of the house is close enough to hear.

His frown deepens, glaze sliding off her and to the maid gesturing for them to take a seat on a mouldering sette. Shirayuki takes it, and sneezes again.

“There certainly does seem to be an unseemly amount,” he says pointedly.

The maids shoulder round in a wince. “The lady of the house says she prefers it thus.”

Shirayuki’s forehead wrinkles, glancing around them. Somehow, she doubts it.

Obi presses on, voice dropping to a low hiss. “Just because she has no room to complain doesn’t mean it should be kept in such a state.”

“It is only me and the lady, my lord,” the maid replies, her voice thick with apology and a hint of weedling. “We were going to do a thorough cleaning now that Spring is here.”

Throat working like a dog chewing down a growl, Obi asks, “Has he not been sending allowance?”

There’s so much going on that Shirayuki doesn’t understand. So many words that are passing over her head and she- she doesn’t like it. She doesn’t know why, but she is filled with the strange desire to be angry with him. To be filled with the comfort of righteous discontent and set on the path to fix it.

“He sends enough to keep the lady in comfort,” the maid finally responds.

Obi’s lips are pressed tight and there’s a rage along the line of his shoulders. “I’ve taken a position as a messenger to the second Prince,” he says, finally, and the girl starts. “I’ll ensure more funds be sent soon. In the meantime, I’ll come when I can. I look forward to this house becoming more… habitable.”

The maid starts. She shakes her head, sputtering a protest. “My lord!“

“Lylette!” a voice floats from somewhere up the stairs, halting their conversation. The words are stilted, carefully carving Clariness from an accent Shirayuki cannot recognize. “Lylette, who is it? Has someone come to call?”

Shirayuki’s eyes drift over to her husband, but Obi has gone stock still, eyes frozen on the stairwell. 

At the top of it, a woman, rail thin and wrapped in a dressing gown made of patterned silk hovers like a ghost. There’s something strange about her, something sickly that has nothing to do with the way her black hair hangs unfashionably loose and glossy down to her waist.

“Yes, my lady! Just a moment!” the maid calls, rushing up the stairs with a strange sense of urgency. When Lylette reaches her, hand taking the small fingers that just peak from beneath the lady’s heavy sleeves and leading her down the stairs, Shirayuki finally sees it. The way that the white of her eyes never end, instead of enveloping the iris and pupil in a milky film. “We have guests-”

Her smile is a beautiful thing that is hidden away mere moments after it bloomed, her free hand raising from the railing to shield her mouth. “Oh my,” she breathes, navigating the stairs with a graceful ease. “It’s been such a long time. Who is it?”

Obi hasn’t spoken, hasn’t moved. So much so that Shirayuki had temporarily forgotten he was even there, but he does now, his voice gentle but loud enough to be heard. “It’s me.”

The woman stops on the steps, her painted lips parting in shock.

“It’s Obi, mother.”

[stranger-who-writes-fiction]

i don’t believe in peter pan, frankenstein or superman

Fandom: Supergirl Rating: K Summary: As Alex and Kara help Eliza prepare for a garage sale, a shocking secret is revealed! A/N: *wants to tell a single joke about dragons on Krypton* *ends up writing thirteen pages of what is probably incoherent nonsense*

...

Spring in Midvale is...a bit tempestuous, to say the least.

It brings just as much rain as it does sun; plants blossom in the warm weather one week, only to have the new buds washed away by a freak downpour the next.

Kara doesn't mind the indecisiveness of the season all that much—she likes the sound of the raindrops on the leaves outside, and the sunlight is pleasantly mild, when it decides to make an appearance. So, she's fine with a few stretches of grey clouds, here and there.

“Yeah, well. Not all of us are impervious to the cold,” Alex mutters miserably from inside her jacket and scarf.

Kara just shrugs, not even batting an eyelash at the windchill.

Now, allergies, daylight savings, standardized testing...some of those, Kara does mind, and she'll wholeheartedly agree with Alex's complaints.

Especially when it comes to another annual spring occurrence.

“Girls, if I have to ask you one more time—”

“Alright, alright!”

Kara watches as Alex rolls her eyes and hastily tosses a few more books into the cardboard box situated in the center of the room. Kara moves a bit slower, adding a pair of old shoes that no longer fit, but hesitating with the pair of jeans in her hands. The knees are starting to go a bit thin and threadbare.

“Keep those,” Alex says. “Ripped jeans are cool.”

Kara frowns, not entirely convinced, but does as Alex says, setting aside the jeans and instead reaching for her freshman math book instead. “What about this?”

Alex huffs, clearly annoyed at being interrupted, but schools her features into something a bit more patient as she looks over her shoulder, and considers.

“...Yeah,” she finally decides, nodding towards the box. “I don't think you'd get much if you took it to a used bookstore anyway.”

Kara tosses it in.

She's been on Earth for...a little over two years, now? And thus, she's familiar with the yearly ‘Danvers' Household Spring Cleaning and Garage Sale,’ a ritual that does not actually involve the sale of garages...though Alex did try and convince her, that yes, that's definitely what garage sales are about.

(And...okay. Kara...maybe believed her for like...five minutes. Four. Tops. And then Jeremiah kindly set the record straight.)

“Girls!” Eliza calls, and Alex huffs again.

“Coming!” Alex yells. “Are we good?”

Kara looks at the sizable collection of items in the box, and nods.

“I think so. I...don't really have anything else to put in.”

“Yeah, figured,” Alex says. There isn't much that Kara has that's old enough to warrant tossing out—everything works perfectly fine, or fits perfectly well, will definitely last another year. Most of the stuff they've found belongs to Alex—old books and board games. Of course, Alex first offered them to Kara, but. Kara didn't have much use for an old Chinese Checker set that was missing half the pieces. (And Kara certainly had no use for Clue...as she’d been permanently put off of murder mysteries ever since Kenny.)

But Kara does has more to contribute this time around, at least. Like those shoes, for instance. (And that pair of jeans she sneaked back in the box, when Alex wasn't looking.)

Her sister stands, hefting the cardboard box as she does so. Kara grabs a smaller box, and Alex feigns annoyance.

“Hey, you're the super strong alien...you should take this one.”

Kara smirks.

“Sorry, can't. I'm not supposed to use my powers, remember?”

Alex nudges her in the side, adding a drawn out, “riiiiiight,” generously laced with sarcasm. They both laugh and head downstairs.

“Finally!” Eliza says, once they reach the bottom of the stairs. Kara wonders if they're in for a lecture, but Eliza's clearly too wrapped up in prepping for the garage sale to fit in any scolding. “Just put them over by the door, and then Alex...I need you to go through some of the things out in the shed...”

“What?!” Alex yelps as they add their boxes to the (ever growing, it seems) stack near the door. “You never said I had to clean out the shed...that'll take forever.”

“It's just a few things,” Eliza insists, “some of the sports equipment, and the old camping gear. I think one of the tents is broken...”

“Uggggh,” Alex groans.  And Kara is ready to leave her behind, and retreat back to their room, because she's been out in the shed a total of two times, and both were entirely unpleasant affairs.

Besides, Eliza only mentioned Alex. So Kara’s pretty sure she in the clear.

But of course, Alex isn't about to let that happen.

“Can Kara at least come and help me lift stuff?” Alex asks, and Kara—having zero desire to get roped into this, is quick to remind her:

“I'm not supposed to use my pow—”

“It's just moving junk out of the way,” Alex says, turning to Eliza to plead her case. “It'll go faster, and then we'll be all set for Saturday.”

Kara can see Eliza turning the idea over in her head...clearly taken with the notion of being ahead of schedule.

“But—!” Kara tries once more, but Eliza is already moving towards the office, several empty milk crates in tow.

“Help your sister!” she calls over her shoulder. “But no flying or super speed—just strength!”

Alex chuckles wickedly under her breath as Kara slumps, and emits a disgruntled whine.

“You're the worst,” Kara mutters. And Alex just shrugs it off.

“It’s a sibling thing, get used to it,” she says, and when Kara gives her an inquisitive look, she elaborates, “'if I'm going down, I'm taking you with me.'”

The shed is just as bad as Kara recalls.

Dark, damp, and void of any semblance of organization, it's a dumping ground for outdoor gear, (both broken and functional), gardening equipment (that they never use) and patio furniture that, by Alex's calculations, has not seen the light of day for at least six years.

“Okay, I know mom said just strength...” Alex starts, staring into the shadowy abyss, “but you think you could...?”

Kara sighs, and slips her glasses off, using her x-ray vision to quickly locate the items they've been sent to find.

“Camping gear's all the way at the back,” Kara says, “What sport stuff did Eliza want you to look at?”

“I dunno,” Alex says, pushing a few foam boogie boards out of the way. She nods towards some lawn chairs, and Kara grunts, but ultimately obliges, easily hoisting them out of the way. “Let's do the camping stuff first.”

“'Kay.”

Alex is right, of course; Kara's super strength makes clearing a path a cinch, and, admittedly, it turns out to be an invaluable asset, given that the tents are buried beneath several layers of cobweb-covered junk.

Kara hauls everything out into the backyard, allowing Alex to yank the tents from the shelving units.

“Okay, let's check and see...” Alex starts to say, dumping the pieces out onto the lawn.

A puff of red dust and the moldy remains of what was once a canvas tent come tumbling out.

“...Yeah, I think that's...done.” Alex surmises.

Kara nods, recoiling slightly at the smell of water damage.

“Here, just—put that in the garbage, actually. No one's gonna wanna buy that,” Alex tells her. “I'll start putting this stuff back.”

Kara does as she's told, gingerly taking the tent to the side yard, and shoving it into one of the trashcans.

“Yeeeuch,” she mumbles, shaking her head and trotting back to join her sister. Alex stands just outside the shed, brushing her hands on her jeans, and regarding two items propped up against the shed's corrugated metal siding.

Kara recognizes them as bicycles—bikes.

“Do you need my help, moving them?” Kara asks, wondering why Alex has paused. The whole reason she was out here in the first place was because Alex wanted to rush through this.

“No,” Alex says slowly, “I think I'm actually gonna move these to the garage.”

“For the sale?”

Alex shakes her head. “No,” she says again. “Or. Maybe...” she scratches her head. “I never ride mine, anymore. But, I dunno...” she runs her hand over the seat, which Kara thinks might be black, underneath the thick layer of dust. “They're kinda nice to just have, you know?”

Kara nods, even though she's not really sure she understands.

“Uh...yeah,” she agrees, and her hesitation must be apparent, because Alex turns and gives her a funny look.

“Oh...come on,” she says suddenly, realizing. “You guys seriously didn't have bikes on Krypton?”

Kara crosses her arms, feeling a twinge of defensiveness working its way into her response. “Why would we? They're...archaic.”

Alex doesn't take offense at the comment, instead grabbing one of the bikes and nudging the kickstand up out of the way.

“Well now we have to keep them,” she grins. “Here, take this, I'll go see if I can find the helmets—”

“Uhhh...” Kara is forced to take hold of the nearest bike by the handle bars, because Alex is already dashing back into the shed. A few loud crashes follow, along with some grumbling and more than a few phrases that would have Eliza frowning in disapproval, but at last, Alex emerges, two bike helmets in hand.

“Here,” she says, giving one to Kara. It's smaller than the other—bright blue, with the faded, gummy remains of stickers dotted along the front.

“But I don't—”

“I know you don't need it,” Alex says, clipping her own helmet into place. It's larger, and a plain dark grey.  “But, you know. It's the law, and everything, and you have to blend—”

“No, I—” Kara steps away from the bike, handing the helmet back to Alex. “I don't...want to. Ride, I mean.”

Alex blinks.

“Oh,” she says, taking the helmet from Kara. “Like...you don't wanna go right now, or...?”

“Yeah,” Kara nods vigorously. “I...I forgot I have...some APUSH stuff to finish.”

Alex narrows her eyes. They're in the same class.

“What APUSH stuff?”

“I meant Bio,” Kara says, already heading back towards the house. “We can go...some other time, maybe!”

Alex watches her go, eyes still narrowed, so not buying this.

“Riiiight.”

It's not the same thing, Kara tells herself as she stares at the ceiling in their room, sprawled on her bed and not working on Bio or APUSH.

It's not the same thing at all.

And she's not sure if that makes her feel better...or worse.

Kara doesn't even entertain the notion that Alex will leave well enough alone—she knows, right from the get-go, that her sister is going to keep harping on this until...until something happens. Either until Kara snaps or caves or does something else that Alex can hyper-fixate on.

“I can teach you,” Alex offers, literally riding circles around Kara. She's taken to riding her old bike to school...no doubt an attempt to wear down Kara's resolve.

Kara just shrugs, and keeps walking.

“No thanks.”

Alex sighs angrily. “I just don't get it,” she says. “Why not?”

Kara shrugs again, “I dunno, I just don't want to.”

“That's not really a reason.”

“I don't need a reason,” Kara insists, gripping her backpack straps a bit tighter. Alex has stopped pedaling, allowing the bike to coast alongside the sidewalk. Kara can hear the spokes clicking loudly in her ears.

“I guess not,” Alex admits. “...But it would...kinda be nice to have one.” She thinks for a moment. “You can't be scared—it's impossible for you to get hurt.”

Kara scowls.

“I'm not scared.”

“Yeah, I know. I just said you weren't.”

“Good. 'Cause I'm not,” Kara reiterates firmly.

Alex squints at her. “Well, now I'm thinking that you kind of are.”

“I'm not!” Kara says again, raising her voice. Alex frowns, taken aback.

“Whoa, calm down, I didn't—”

“I'm not scared of your...your dumb Earth bikes. You know why we didn't have them on Krypton? Because we had dragons. These big—lizard—dragon things with wings that were ten times scarier than any of your antiquated...” Kara stammers a little, the Kryptonian and English getting jumbled in her head. “Stuff. Your antiquated stuff.”

And she knows she shouldn't, but she uses a touch of super speed, because she's done talking.

Alex watches her go, still a little...stunned, by Kara's outburst.

“...Dragons?”

“Is it scary?”

“Mmmm.” Uncle Jor hums thoughtfully as he chews. “A little. At first. What do you think, Zor?”

Her father nods in agreement.

“At first, yes.”

“I had to push him, you know,” Uncle Jor tells her, leaning forward and pretending to whisper. Kara rolls her eyes—Uncle Jor is under the impression that she finds his antics hilarious.

(Which, admittedly, she did. When she was five.)

But she is interested in the story.

“Did you really?” she asks, looking from her uncle to her father, and back again. Uncle Jor laughs.

“I see you've not shared this particular story with Kara, then?”

“He has not shared it with me, either,” her mother interjects, joining them at the table. She raises an eyebrow and smirks at Zor.

Her father's smile is sheepish.

“Well...it has never come up before...”

“Zor was certain he would take to flying much faster than I,” Uncle Jor says, leaning back in his chair. “But when we got to the cliffs, he froze.”

“I was merely taking my time,” her father says.

Uncle Jor shakes his head. “He froze.”

“So you pushed him?” Kara asks. Uncle Jor nods.

“H'Raka was going to leave without him!” he claps his brother on the shoulder. “So I gave him a good shove, right off the edge of the cliff.”

Her mother covers her mouth with her hand in an attempt to hide her smile.

“I am surprised the thantho flez allowed that,” she chuckles. Her father looks sheepish again.

“She...did not.”

“She threw him right off.” Uncle Jor nods.

Kara's eyes widen, and her mother abruptly stops laughing.

“Did you get hurt?” Kara asks, trying to imagine the scene. Were the cliffs steep? How far did father fall? Was H'Raka alright?

“I landed in a Hantha tree, thank Rao,” her father smiles. “I broke my arm, but if could have been...much worse.”

“I pray you had the decency to feel badly,” her mother turns and scolds Uncle Jor, who is nodding, wearing a very serious frown.

“Oh, of course,” he says, just as he winks at Kara.

Kara doesn't laugh—in fact, she remains quiet throughout the rest of the dinner, still thinking about Father, and flying, and being frightened.

Eventually, Uncle Jor leaves—he has to meet Aunt Lara at the High Council building. She doesn't join her parents, in seeing him off.

“Alright, Little One,” her mother says, once Uncle Jor is gone. “Something is troubling you.”

Kara shakes her head, but her mother and father know better. Her father rubs her shoulder.

“It will not be scary,” he tells her, correctly guessing the source of her worry. “Flying. I promise, it will be fine.”

“Do I...have to go?” Kara asks in a small voice. Her mother and father share a look—something passes between them, a silent conversation. Kara marvels at their ability to do that—seemingly speaking to one another, without actually talking.

“You must take the test...eventually...” her father says slowly, kneeling so that they are eye level. Again, he rubs her shoulders, soothingly. “You know this.”

“Thara waited until fifth tier...” Kara argues.

And she can see her mother, ready to protest, to tell her that she may not wait, she must take the test before her fourth tier lessons.

But it's her father who speaks, soft and reassuring.

“We will wait until you are ready,” he says, smiling. “And when that time comes, we will be right there beside you. To teach you. To help you.”

Kara feels the anxious knot in her stomach come undone.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

That was one year before the planet started falling apart.

(Though...according to her dad and Uncle Jor, the planet had been falling apart for a long time, but. It didn't become...noticeable until...just before the end, really.)

She never took her flight test.

Her parents never taught her how to ride a thantho flez, or a hover skiff, or...or anything, really. She was too young for some of those things...too scared for the others.

And when at last she found some courage (I'm not afraid, father)...

Well.

By then, it was too late.

Kara sighs, poking her head into the living room, finding Alex lying on one of the couches.

“Um. Hey....” she starts. Alex glances up from her phone.

“Hey.”

And Kara takes that as a good sign...Alex doesn't sound like she's mad at her. If anything, she sounds bored. And that's fine. Kara can handle bored.

“I'm...sorry,” Kara says, shuffling into the room somewhat awkwardly. She takes a seat in the chair across from the couch. “About yelling at you. And calling bikes dumb.”

“And antiquated.”

“And antiquated,” Kara sighs again. “I didn't mean it. I'm sure bikes are...are great.”

“Yeah, well,” Alex shrugs, gaze flicking back to her phone. “They're not quite as exciting as dragons,” she drawls, casting a pointed look in Kara's direction. Kara winces. “But. They're okay.”

“I was just upset,” Kara says, wringing her hands, feeling that she owes Alex some sort of explanation.

“Clearly,” Alex snorts. Kara lets the interruption slide, forging ahead.

“Everything you said...about being scared and...and learning to ride...” she shrugs. “It. Reminded me of my parents, I guess. Kind of. Of...something that...I never...” she adjusts her glasses, looking down at her feet. “Never got to, um. We never...got to do, together.”

She takes a deep breath; that's as much detail as she can muster, right now, not wanting to remember too much, to linger too long on those raw emotions. She looks up to see Alex nodding, sitting up and setting her phone aside.

“Sorry. I didn't, uh,” she scratches the back of her hand. “Know. About...that it was...bringing up some stuff.”

Kara nods. “Yeah,” she says.

“Yeah.”

They sit in awkward silence for a moment as Kara struggles to think of something else to say. Fortunately, Alex puts an end to it, as she raises an eyebrow and asks:

“So...when you say dragons, do you mean...?”

Kara grins. “Like. Dragon dragons.”

“Seriously?”

“Well. Some of them look more like dragonflies, but...”

“And you guys would ride them?”

“Yeah.”

“That's...” Alex allows herself to sink back into the couch cushions. “Whoa.”

“Definitely whoa,” Kara agrees, remembering seeing Thara prepare for her test, practicing, her Winged One—her thantho flez—swooping and circling high overhead.

Alex returns to her phone, and Kara...Kara realizes with a start that, no, she never did learn to fly, back on Krypton.

But she did learn on Earth.

“You sure you want to do this?” Alex asks.

Kara buckles the strap on her borrowed helmet.

“Yes,” she says firmly.

“Because you don't have to,” Alex tells her. “I don't want to like...traumatize you, or something, and then you rat me out to mom.”

“I would never,” Kara says, entirely unconvincing.

“Mmmm hmmm,” Alex smirks. “’Course you wouldn't.”

She slings her leg over the bike—free of cobwebs and dust, and sporting a new set of pegs on the back.

“So, do I just...?” Kara asks, stepping forward somewhat tentatively. Alex nods.

“Yeah, but...wait a sec, lemme make sure...okay, go for it.”

Kara steps up onto the pegs, placing her hands on Alex's shoulders. Alex flinches.

“Too tight,” she hisses. Kara eases her grip.

“Oh, sorry. Better?”

Alex nods. “Okay, so now, you just...hang on, I guess.”

“Okay,” Kara says.

And then, they're off.

Slowly, and somewhat wobbly.

“Oh, this is great,” Kara lays on the sarcasm thick. Alex grunts.

“Would you just—I've never had a passenger before, alright? You're throwing off the whole...” Alex manages to straighten out, and pick up some speed. “Ha! Okay, there.”

And now they're really off—Alex picked a particularly hilly neighborhood for the ride, and soon enough, they're coasting down streets, wind in their hair, pale afternoon sun pleasantly warm on their backs.

They don't ride very fast, or very far—it's over all too soon, in Kara's opinion, but Alex is still paranoid that she'll emotionally scar her, or something.

They come to a stop at the bottom of the hill, tires skidding slightly on the asphalt.

“So?” Alex asks, turning. “How as that?”

Kara beams.

“Good,” she replies. “Really good. Almost like flying.”

Alex nods, humming slightly.

“Well,” she says, “as someone who's flown with you once,” she moves her feet back to the pedals, ready to head for home. “Agree to disagree.”

Kara doesn't fully explain to Alex, just what was bothering her. Kara doesn't know if she herself really understands the scope of it. (That will come later—when she has words for things like survivor's guilt.)

But Alex...Alex must understand some of it, because after the ride, on the way home, she tells Kara—somewhat haltingly, and unsure—about how her parents taught her to ride a bike—that, during the summer, they'd go for long rides on the nearby trails together. She tells Kara that there are still some things, she can't even think of doing, because Jeremiah isn't here to do it with them.

“So if I...you know,” Alex's shrug is hindered, somewhat, but Kara's grip, but Kara can feel them tense a little. “Pressured you, or something, I'm sorry.”

Kara shakes her head, only to realize Alex can't see her, focused as she is on the road. So she squeezes her shoulder, and assures her. “It's okay.”

“Quit doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“That—that thing that you're doing—normal humans can't balance like that unless both feet are on the ground.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.”

“You have to pedal. We can't have an E.T. moment, okay?”

Kara has to think for a moment—which one was E.T.? But then she remembers...and grins.

“You sure?”

“...Honestly, no. It's very tempting. But—secret identity.”

“Right, right. Secret identity.”

“Okay, so. Pedal, and, uh. That's the front brakes—don't use those first, unless you want to flip the bike. Use the back ones—yeah, those. And....there's the gears,” Alex continues to point out  the various parts of the bike. “Don't bother with those for now...you should be fine in two.”

“...Okay.”

“Alright, I think...I think that's it...” Alex says. “Ready to give it a shot?”

Kara nods, her new helmet not quite as snug as the one she'd borrowed from Alex. It tips forward into her line of sight, and she has to push it out of the way.

“Yes.”

It doesn't take long to get the hang of it. Soon enough, Kara's riding like a pro. She skids to a stop in front of Alex, breathless, not from exertion, but from excitement.

“This is fun!” she declares. Alex just laughs. “Here, you wanna...?” she gestures to the pegs.

Alex looks skeptical—Kara is still technically a rookie after all—but she does have superpowers on her side.

So she hops up onto the back of the bike.

And is immediately suspicious of Kara's sly grin.

“What are you—”

“You said no E.T. Stuff, right?”

“Right...?”

“So no flying.”

“What are you—”

Alex doesn't finish, words snatched away as Kara starts pedaling.

Alex never said anything about super speed.

Several Years Later

Alex comes home for Spring Break—it's a surprise; she'd told them she had too much work to catch up on, that she wouldn't be able to visit.

But she arrives, single duffel bag in hand, tight grin on her face.

(Kara's noticed that about Alex lately...her smiles are a little...tense.)

“I didn't even hear you pull up!” Eliza exclaims, wrapping her in a hug.

Kara didn't either...which is very strange.

“Friend dropped me off,” Alex says. “She has family up the coast...we carpooled.”

Eliza is satisfied with this answer, but Kara is not.

Still, she knows better than to interrogate her in front of Eliza.

Her answer comes later...much later. Like, middle-of-the-night later, when Alex nudges her awake, and throws something round and heavy onto her stomach.

Kara groggily regards the item with confusion, running her hands over it, not sure what she's dealing--

She sits bolt upright.

“You didn't,” she says, already grinning.

Alex's smile is no longer tense, or tight—it's small and quirked to one side and so patently Alex.

“I did,” she says, shrugging on her new motorcycle jacket. “Come on.”

And Kara doesn't have to be asked twice.

Notes:

- Kryptonian culture varies, depending on which comic you read; the bit about learning to fly/Jor and Zor is taken from the Injustice 2 title. - Formal speech/minimal contractions on Krypton is a Supergirl: Rebirth thing - Dumb title is dumb...gosh, I hate naming things.

[acesonuckles]

Spring Cleaning

[Every year, Sonic and Knuckles clean out the house. This year, Knuckles is pouting.]

Spring cleaning is the one thing that Knuckles understood immediately about surface life. He muttered some word in Echidnan, all, “Oh, so like...” followed by a string of syllables Sonic’s Mobian-trained tongue had no hope of replicating but he understood to mean when you clean because it’s warming up and you want to start anew or that burst of energy you get when you start to get more vitamin D and you might as well use it to clean. Of course, when he asked, it wasn’t nearly as poetic. Knuckles just shrugged and said, “it means the yearly clean.”

So, Knuckles understood it. He didn’t question Sonic when he pulled out the rubber gloves that crawled all the way up to his elbows, when he gutted the closets, when he threw out half of Tails’s old toys, when he dusted, and when he scrubbed the windows. In fact, he understood so well that he helped without question, using his strength to pick up the couch for Sonic to vacuum under, to move the fridge so they could get behind it and check the water line, to relocate huge piles of books and other assorted heavy things, to lift Sonic, one-handed, so he could clean the cobwebs from the corners.

These few short weeks became a whirlwind, but a good, productive whirlwind. One year, Eggman attacked in the middle of it, and when they got back, battered and shattered, Knuckles went right back to it. It was ritualistic to him, and it helped keep him grounded.

Today though, he’s taken to cleaning with something like a vengeance. He’s scrubbing the shower hard enough to put holes in it, standing there barefoot and free of gloves, with water up to his ankles for reasons Sonic can’t fathom, and he grunts when Sonic tries to talk to him from where he’s digging around under the sink, trying to decide if they really need an ironing board or six space heaters. Is that a hair dryer?

“Think Amy left this here,” Sonic says to the room, because that’s what he does. When things are awkward, he fills the space with something, anything. He holds the blow dryer up so Knuckles can see, and Knuckles scoffs.

“Ah, so it’s Amy,” Sonic continues, as he wraps the cord around the blow dryer’s handle and places it on the sink.

“What’s Amy?” Knuckles drags a rag across the shower tile—uselessly, in Sonic’s opinion, because the tiles are already blinding in their cleanliness.

“Your pouting.”

“My pouting what?”

Sonic grimaces and shakes his head. He tunnels back under the sink, shoves aside a few extra bottles of baby shampoo. “Keep being difficult. I know you’re mad about something. You’ve nearly increased the weathering on our shower by ten thousand years today alone.”

“I can’t hear you,” Knuckles returns.

Sonic groans, loud and long, painted, because of course he was gifted with someone who’s just as bullheaded as he is. He pulls himself out from the cabinet and sits back on his haunches so he can look at Knuckles fully. Knuckles has his back to him, though Sonic can practically see his glaring reflection in the tiles.

“What’s wrong?” Sonic asks, instead of instigating more of an argument.

“Nothing.”

“What’d Amy do?”

Knuckles sighs, and it’s a sigh that says that he knows he’s been had. “She’s nosey.”

“Ah.” Sonic stands and toes his shoes off, pulls his socks off, steps into the water. Gently, he reaches for the hand still going at the tiles and extracts the rag. “Yeah, she is.”

“Really nosey,” Knuckles continues, almost like a petulant child.

“What’d she do this time?” Sonic drops the rag into the water and kicks at the plug. The water begins to drain with a low rumble.

“Asking too many questions.”

Sonic makes another ah sound. This isn’t anything new. Amy has a vested interest in their relationship, seeing as she was the first person Sonic told about his crush, way back when, and she planned their wedding. She’s been the one constant in their lives, since this all began, but she’s also pushy sometimes, which rubs Knuckles all the wrong ways.

“She wants to know if we’re doing anything for our anniversary.”

Knuckles finally gives up the goat and it’s not nearly as bad as Sonic thought it was, which is both a relief and alarming, the fact that Knuckles is reacting so excessively. Sonic watches the water finish draining before he says anything.

“That’s reasonable—” Sonic begins. They have small plans that seem big—a trip to Angel Island, a fire, stargazing, an evening for themselves without Tails where they first met, doing what they love together.

“She implied that if I loved you, I’d do more.”

Knuckles doesn’t move, just says that, plain, open, and Sonic winces. The bathroom is wet from their cleaning, smells of lemon, and it’s suffocating with them standing so close in this too-clean shower.

“I know you love me,” Sonic says. Immediately, he knows it’s the wrong thing, because Knuckles’s hands and jaw clench.

“I know you know.”

Sonic looks at him, full on, takes in his tense expression, his tense posture, his tense everything. “She wants you to prove it,” Sonic says as he puts it together.

Knuckles nods once, curt, and Sonic hears him let out a small sound of dissatisfaction before Knuckles mumbles: “She knows how you feel, because you tell her everything.”

It’s true enough so Sonic doesn’t have to agree. Instead, he steps out of the tub, up and over the edge with a quick one-two movement. Knuckles watches him go with those large lavender eyes and Sonic can almost see something desperate there.

“You don’t have to prove anything to her,” Sonic says as he offers a hand. Knuckles stares at it, bites his lip softly. “It’s not hers.”

Knuckles lets out a soft, relieved breath. “It feels like it belongs to everyone.”

Sonic has a feeling they’re not talking about their anniversary anymore. “It doesn’t. It’s just you and me.”

Knuckles shakes his head. “Hope you’re right.” He ignores Sonic’s hand as he follows him out of the tub. The rag, now at the bottom of the empty tub, is plucked up by Knuckles’s gloveless fingers, and Sonic catches the slightest glimpse of his mark, along with the ring.

“I’m right,” he says.

[emotten]

Exclusive Sneak Peek!

I have decided to post the first chapter of my WIP (in its roughest form) because I’m dying to share this story with everyone. I am so excited to be writing it after dreaming of it for so long, and I cannot wait to see how it turns out in the end. Keep reading for The Lesser Courts, Book 1, Chapter 1... “The Faerie Ring.” And please ignore any typos and grammatical errors you might see. As I said, she is rough! Enjoy. :) 

It rained the day they buried Sadie’s mother. The sky was all black and gray, and it poured down buckets of fat, cold drops, as if walking through a cemetery with a bunch of estranged acquaintances wasn’t bad enough already. They moved like a mob of penguins, dressed all in black and shuffling through the mud toward the rectangular hole in the ground where Melissa Parker’s body would rest forever.

The funeral had felt agonizingly slow, though they hadn’t spent much time there in reality. Now, time moved in pieces, like the broken shards of a mirror shifting at the bottom of a shimmering pool. Sadie couldn’t feel her feet, and only knew they were carrying her because every time she blinked, her surroundings had changed. She felt a warm arm linked through hers and looked; of course, it was Nobu. Probably the only reason she was still on her feet at that moment.

Her best friend turned and gave her a sad smile, and a wink. The rain had flattened his dark hair against his forehead, and she could see the scar above his eyebrow, which he’d gotten falling off of the monkey bars when they were young. He’d gone up there to help Sadie down, and ended up hurting himself. Every time Sadie saw that scar, she was reminded of all the things Nobu had done for her, and how he had always been there for her when she needed someone. That very moment, for example.

As she watched her mother’s casket drift lower into the ground, Sadie tightened her grip on Nobu’s arm and glanced around at the unfamiliar faces of the few people who had come to mourn her mother.

The only face she knew was that of her mother’s older sister, Ira. Aunt Ira was a woman Sadie had rarely seen, but could never forget, with her blackened teeth and foggy left eye. Aunt Ira walked with a limp and grew long hairs out of the mole on her chin. Usually, Sadie wouldn’t judge a person by the way they looked. But not only was Aunt Ira terrible to look at, she had a heart as black as her teeth and a soul as sour as her socks. The worst part about Aunt Ira was that she had become Sadie’s legal guardian.

“Amen,” said the priest. He’d been talking, Sadie supposed, but she hadn’t heard him until now, as he addressed her. “I believe Miss Sadie Parker wanted to say a word about her mother before we conclude our ceremony this afternoon.”

Sadie blinked around at the people huddled under five or six black umbrellas, and Aunt Ira with her big black hat. Carefully, she pulled her arm away from Nobu and tiptoed through the mud to stand next to the priest. She had been told his name once or twice, but it never seemed to stick.

“Thank you,” Sadie squeaked. She cleared her throat and pulled a crumpled wad of paper from her pocket and unfolded it noisily. Rain drops smudged the handwritten blue words like watercolors. “My mom – Melissa – was really into poetry. She used to read poems to me all the time when I was little.” Sadie felt her eyes and throat burning and swallowed. “This was one of her favorites and, when she got sick, she asked me to—to read it—” Her throat was closing up. The memory of her mother washed over her like a wave of nausea. She glanced out at Nobu who looked back, his dark eyes narrowed in concern, and nodded toward her. You can do this, she thought. That’s what he’s telling me. Reminding me. I’m strong, I can read this stupid poem.

She took a deep breath, focused on a bleach stain in Aunt Ira’s jacket, and recited the poem from memory, though the damp page was clutched tightly in her hand.

“Fortunate are those, who seek the Faerie Ring; who step into the circle; who dance, and laugh, and sing.” Sadie smiled, remembering the sound of her mother’s voice when she would chant this poem as she skipped through the house on certain mornings, throwing open all the windows as she went. “The Faeries, then, will take you to a magical place, with plenty to see, and plenty to do, plenty to feel and taste. After your last breath, do not go toward the light. Instead, look down, dig underground, and speak the Faerie Rite.”

Sadie imagined her mother clawing at the muddy ground inside a deep dark tunnel, her golden hair snarled and falling over her face. She could almost hear Melissa’s voice, sobbing as she dug, chanting through her shaking breaths.

“By the wisdom of this ancient soil,” Sadie continued, her voice strong, “the powers of earth, air, fire, and oil. Water and metal and mineral ore, the power of spirit, of sand and shore. By the name of Godric, Faerie King, I command you open this Faerie Ring.”

Thunder clapped in the distance, and there were quiet gasps throughout the small crowd. Sadie frowned as the rain came down harder, heavier. She was almost finished; she continued to read.

“Allow me passage into the lands and gifts I will place into your hands.” From her pocket, Sadie pulled a long, heavy necklace. The silver chain held a large, bright green stone that seemed to shimmer in a ray of sunlight that wasn’t there. She stared down at it for a moment; a pendant she had seen every day for her entire life, which her mother had always worn, even in her bathing suit. No matter where they went, no matter what she was wearing, Melissa Parker never went anywhere without that big green rock around her neck. And Sadie would be damned if she was going to pass into the afterlife without it.

She stepped forward toward her mother’s grave, just as a bolt of lightning sliced across the sky, and she dropped the necklace to land on top of the casket with a thud. Then, she stepped back and finished the poem.

“Secret Country, now unveil, open the door to Ironvale.” As Sadie finished, the sky flashed and thunder rumbled again. It was a coincidence, of course, but she shivered at the warning bell ringing in the back of her intuitive mind. She walked over to stand next to Nobu, and he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close.

“Thanks for the poem,” she said. “Mom loved that one.”

“I know,” Nobu replied.

Soon, all the other penguins had disappeared, except for Aunt Ira. She waited impatiently in the car while Sadie hugged Nobu goodbye, promising to call as soon as she got settled at Ira’s house.

As they pulled away from the dreary, rainy cemetery, Sadie gazed out the window toward the gaping wound in the earth that was her mother’s final resting place, which very closely resembled the gaping wound in Sadie’s heart. But something else caught her eye on the edge of the woods along the opposite side of the cemetery that struck her even harder; a red-haired young man perched high up in the treetops, staring right back at her. It wasn’t the staring that struck Sadie as odd or intriguing or maybe even a little terrifying, nor was it the red hair, or the fact that he was in a tree. It was the fact that she could swear she had seen him somewhere before.

         Aunt Ira’s house stood at the end of a long, twisting driveway that wove through a forest of bare trees. It was early spring and, though it would be a few weeks before things began to blossom, Sadie was pretty sure these trees hadn’t grown a single bud in ages. The house itself was tall; too tall and large for only one woman to live inside.

Ira used to have a husband, and he had a few kids from a previous marriage. But Sadie hadn’t seen her pseudo-cousins since Ira’s divorce. She was a lonely, wretched woman, and the interior of her house reflected that.

Inside, the lights were dim, the walls painted in deep, ashy, earth tones. The floors were dark, scuffed wood, and tall, dusty bookcases lined the main entrance hall, as well as the living room and the study. Sadie followed Ira upstairs, the air thick with dust and the stinging scent of moth balls, to find her new bedroom.

“Here you are,” Ira said. She pushed open a creaking door to a small room with a slanted roof and an aluminum-framed twin bed. There was one small window in the wall opposite the door, and it was a small, round window, like the type you might find in the lower parts of a ship. Sadie doubted that it opened at all as she glanced around the tiny space at the cracks in the floor, the stained wallpaper, and the thick cobwebs in the corners of the ceiling. There was no light switch, no light fixture at all, and only one socket.

“Aren’t there any other rooms?” Sadie asked. “One with a window that might open, maybe?” She looked up at her aunt with her round, teal eyes – the puppy dog expression worked on everyone – and batted her lashes.

Aunt Ira snorted. “This is the only empty room I’ve got, Princess. Dinner is at seven. I hope not to see you until then.” She turned and limped down the hallway without another word.

Sadie sighed as she entered her room, dragging her bags behind her, and shut the door. For the next few hours, she cleaned as well as she could and started to unpack, trying her best to make the room feel like home. But it was cold and dark and unfamiliar, and all of her efforts seemed completely pointless.

Later that night, at seven o’clock, Sadie found her way through the drafty, candle-lit house to the dining room, where Aunt Ira had placed a microwaved dinner and a can of Coca-Cola in front of an empty seat for her.

“Before you ask,” said Aunt Ira, sitting on the other side of the table, “this is all there is. I’ve got no fancy cakes or anything for you.” She chuckled at herself and began sawing at the slab of brown in front of her that was probably supposed to be meat.

Sadie sat without a word and decided that the corn looked like the most edible part of the dish. She began picking at it until she realized that some of the kernels were still frozen. After about fifteen minutes of pushing the “food” around her plastic plate and listening to Aunt Ira chew and swallow, chasing each bite with a swig of rum and Coke, Sadie took care of her dishes and went back up to her room.

The next morning, she woke up shivering, with the rising sun blasting right through her tiny, circular window and directly into her eyes. It was only six o’clock in the morning but going back to sleep was out of the question. So, Sadie got up, got dressed, and went downstairs to browse the books that lined Aunt Ira’s walls. They were the only part about the house that didn’t totally suck.

In the hall, Sadie found a cordless phone and called Nobu, speaking softly so as not to wake Aunt Ira while her eyes skimmed the cracking spines of the old books in the study.

“How was your first night?” Nobu asked.

Sadie shrugged, though he couldn’t see her, and said, “Not awful. But not awesome, either. You should see my room. I think it’s a actually closet.”

“At least you only have to live with her for a few months.”

“Yep,” Sadie replied. “As soon as I turn seventeen, I’m out of here. No idea where I’ll go, but I can’t stay here forever. This isn’t my home.”

“Want me to come over today?” asked Nobu.

Sadie’s big, round eyes fell on a book that seemed oddly familiar to her. She reached for it, and slid the small, green, canvas-bound tome from the shelf.

“Yeah,” she said, slowly. “I just found something you might be interested in.” She opened the book, titled How to Catch a Faerie, and ran her finger over the name scribbled in the corner of the inside cover; Melissa Parker.

 It took Nobu forty-five minutes to drive his mom’s van across town to Aunt Ira’s house, and the woman was up and making a pot of smelly tea when Sadie saw the van pulling down the long driveway.

“I’m going to hang out with a friend for a little while,” Sadie said. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Oh, yes,” Aunt Ira replied, an air of sarcasm in her voice. “Come and go as you please, Your Highness, but don’t forget; dinner is at seven, and I lock the doors at nine.”

“I remember,” said Sadie.

She slipped out the door and ran to hop into the passenger seat of the van. Nobu greeted her with a smile, and she pulled the small, green book from her pocket.

“It’s my mom’s,” she said. “We should bring it to her. To her grave, I mean.”

Nobu nodded. “Okay.”

They drove up the drive of the cemetery, just beginning to dry in the weak sun after the previous days of heavy rain. The clouds above them were breaking apart as Sadie and Nobu walked across the green grass, weaving between headstones. They looked ridiculous walking together, with Nobu towering over tiny Sadie, and yet walking somehow lighter and less clumsy than her. His black hair was straight and bodiless, while hers was long and golden brown and full of bounce. He was dark and strong and silent, like a statue made of stone, and she was delicate and soft as the petals of a tulip.

Sadie gripped the Faerie book tightly as they walked, until they reached the damp, churned soil of Melissa Parker’s recent grave. Sadie sat down in the cold grass and Nobu knelt next to her as she opened up the book and thumbed through the pages.

“Which one should I read?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly as she looked to her friend for any kind of support he could give.

He reached out and took the book from her. “Let me see.” And Sadie watched his eyes move quickly across the pages as he skimmed and flipped and turned and chewed his bottom lip. Then, Nobu frowned and Sadie looked down at the book in his hands. He had turned to the very back, where a poem had been handwritten in unfamiliar, gorgeous, scrawling cursive.

“How about this one?” he said, passing to book to her.

As she gazed down at the page, she could practically feel the atmosphere around her changing, becoming heavier and somehow lighter all at once. She took a deep breath and began to read the handwritten poem aloud.

“A maiden, there, came dancing, into the Faerie ring. Her eyes squeezed tight against the light, she had not seen the thing.” Sadie thought of all the stories her mother had once told her, of Faerie Rings and Magick and a world beneath Earth’s surface where it all exists. They were just stories, Sadie had always thought, but her mother was so passionate about them, that they had begun to feel real over the years.

“The maiden, there, went prancing, around the Faerie Ring. Her hair blew round and came unbound and she began to sing.” Sadie couldn’t help but picture her mother, with her golden waves flowing around her like oil floating through water, singing, as always. “The maiden began chanting, across the Faerie Ring. The song was old, a tale it told, about the death of Spring.”

Sadie stopped. The air around her had gone impossibly still and silent, not even a bird was chirping anymore. She knew that song, The Death of Spring. She had heard her mother singing it at least a thousand times. It was a real song. She swallowed and read the final verse of the poem.

“The maiden could do nothing, within the Faerie Ring. An icy breeze, and the maiden was seized, by the savage Faerie King.”

Sadie blinked. She and Nobu sat quietly, staring down at the words written on the worn paper before them, the silence around them deafening.

“Well,” Nobu said, finally. “I’ve never heard that one before. Just goes to show, you can study something for years and years, and still find something new here and there.”

Sadie couldn’t shake the strange feeling that had fallen over her as she’d read the poem. She had read tons of Faerie poems in her life; her mother was a believer and her best friend was an Occultist who studied Faeries. But nothing she had ever found or seen or read or learned had ever caused her to feel the way she did now.

“Looks like it’s going to rain again,” Nobu said.

Sadie glanced up at the sky, gray clouds rolling quickly across the sheet of blue overhead. “Huh? It’s supposed to be clear skies all day.”

“Surprise,” Nobu replied, hopping to his feet. “The weatherman is not always right, Parker.” He extended his hand and helped Sadie to her feet. “You gonna leave that book here for her?”

Sadie stood and glanced between the book in her hand and the grave at her feet. She shook her head. “No. Not if it’s going to rain. I don’t want it to get ruined.”

They walked away arm in arm as the sky darkened above them and a chill breeze rolled through, as if it were following them out of the cemetery. When they reached the van, Nobu got into the driver’s seat and started the engine. Sadie opened the passenger side door and dropped the book in, but before she could climb into the van, she felt a strange compulsion to look behind her. She could feel, like a stab of heat, a pair of eyes on her from somewhere in the distance.

Sadie glanced over her shoulder, saw a streak of orange in her peripheral vision, and spun around. Her eyes narrowed as they skimmed the cemetery, left and right, and all the way back toward the woods on the other side. Her heart stopped cold for a solid second when she saw him; the boy with the red hair, perched in the tree. And without a second thought, she darted across the cemetery toward him.

“Sadie!”

She could hear Nobu’s voice calling to her, but she kept on running. He would chase her, she knew, and he would probably catch up. But she couldn’t stop now. She had her eyes locked on the redhead in the tree and she wasn’t stopping until she reached him. Then, should would ask him who he was and why he was following her and why the hell he looked so familiar, even though she couldn’t see his face.

Sadie and Nobu were both stars on their high school track team, but Nobu was much faster. His long legs could carry him the length of Sadie’s entire body in one stride. He caught up quick and stopped her when she was just a few yards from the edge of the woods. She turned to him, trying to catch her breath.

“I have to know who he is,” she said between gasps of air. “I’ve seen him here twice now, and I want to know who he is.”

“What are you talking about?” Nobu asked.

“Him!” Sadie pointed toward the trees, and they both looked. But he was gone.

 That night, Sadie could not sleep. Nobu didn’t seem to have the same problem, snoring softly on her bedroom floor. He’d parked his van down the street and snuck in while Aunt Ira was in the shower, after Sadie had told him she didn’t want to be alone.

She couldn’t get the image of the familiar red-haired figure in the tree out of her mind, and something in her heart was telling her that there was more to it; more to him; more to the odd connection she felt to him.

“Nobu?” she whispered.

He didn’t budge.

Sadie slipped out from under her covers and tiptoed past her sleeping friend. She was small and slight and made no noise, even on the old, swollen floorboards. She grabbed her robe off of the door and slipped it on over her silk sleep shorts and camisole. Her bare, bony feet carried her silently downstairs and into the study, where she lit a candle and skimmed the rows of books, searching for something useful. Her skin tingled; she could feel that she was onto something, she just wasn’t sure what.

A book caught her eye as the candlelight glimmered across the golden letters stamped down the spine. Sadie looked closer at the dark red leather volume and read the title: Call of the Fae. There was no author listed. Sadie pulled the book from the shelf and set her candle into a holder on the desk.

She set the heavy book down and just stared at the cover for a moment. Then, she reached forward and opened it blindly to a random page in the center. The top of the page was titled The Faerie Ring and there was an old black and white drawing of a circle of mushrooms in the grass. Sadie’s eyes began to skim the pages, until she heard footsteps descending the stairs. She read faster, trying to absorb as much of the page as she could, knowing that, somehow, she was meant to see it.

Sadie slid the book back onto the shelf when she heard the footsteps reach the ground floor. She grabbed her candle and spun around to find herself suddenly face to face with Nobu. He rubbed his eyes, frowning at her.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Sadie sighed. “I thought you were Aunt Ira.”

Nobu scoffed. “Ew. Rude.”

Sadie rolled her eyes.

“What are you doing in here?” Nobu asked again.

“Reading,” said Sadie. “I couldn’t sleep. And… Nobu, I think we should go back to the cemetery.”

“Right now?”

Sadie nodded. “Right now.”

“Why?”

She shrugged, her wide, watery eyes sparkling up at him in the candlelight.

Nobu yawned, stretched, and glanced toward the window. The sun would peak over the horizon soon, and then Aunt Ira would be up and he would have to leave anyway.

“Okay,” he said.

 Not knowing particularly why, Sadie urged Nobu to run with her to the van, and to drive as fast as he could. He didn’t ask any questions, just did as he was asked, as always. He saw no harm in returning to the cemetery if Sadie wanted to be close to her mother.

The rain had stopped and it was a warm, breezy spring morning. Sadie felt the humidity on her skin for the first time since the previous summer and sighed with relief at the long-awaited return of sunshine and warm weather. She and Nobu walked briskly across the cemetery, right past Sadie’s mother’s grave, and toward the woods.

Sadie’s eyes were locked on the tree where she had seen the strangely familiar boy twice before, expecting him to simply appear at the blink of an eye. But he didn’t. They continued into the trees, the ground damp and covered in last year’s decaying foliage. Sadie practically glided through the trees while Nobu slipped along behind her, clumsily dodging tree branches and nearly falling every few steps when his sneakers sunk into the muddy leaves. He was tall and long-limbed and not necessarily coordinated. He was fast, though; one of the fastest runners on Sadie’s high school track team.

As they came to a small clearing in the woods, Sadie’s heart raced. She gripped Nobu’s wrist and could see his giant grin from the corner of her eye. The early morning sunlight beamed down through the opening in the trees to shine on a perfect circle of bright green grass. Around the edge of it were mushrooms, like little gray stools surrounding a big, circular stage. Sadie patted her pocket; she’d changed into black jeans and a purple tank top before leaving, her light blue sweatshirt tied around her waist. From her pocket, she procured what she’d been looking for; the small green canvas-bound book that used to belong to her mother.

“Okay,” said Nobu, “hang on a second. If this is real, you need to be very careful—we both need to be very careful about what we do next.”

Sadie didn’t move. She stood inches from the edge of the ring of mushrooms, her skin tingling, unable to blink or speak or think. Could it be? Could this possibly be an actual Faerie Ring, a portal into another world?

“Sadie.” Nobu’s voice was a bit louder now, insistent. “I think you should back away from the Ring.” He reached out and brushed her shoulder, and she turned to look at him, her eyes wide with wonder.

“We have to,” she said. “We have to go in.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Absolutely not, Parker, we are going to turn around and leave, right now. This isn’t safe.”

“Are you kidding me? You’ve been studying the Fae since you learned how to read. You should be jumping at the chance, this once in a lifetime opportunity to explore the world you think you know so much about.”

Nobu narrowed his eyes, crossed his arms. “If any of what I’ve learned about Faerie is true, then it is a very dangerous place. People like us are not welcome there.”

“If we weren’t welcome there,” said Sadie, “then why was I led to this Ring? Why would they bring us here if we weren’t meant to accept the invitation? You, of all people, should understand what it means to say no to an invitation from the Fae.”

That was it, Sadie thought. She had to appeal to his existing knowledge. She herself knew a little, and it was enough to pique her interest. If this Ring was just a natural coincidence, then so be it. But she would hate herself forever if she never even tried. She would wonder, for the rest of her life, and always regret not taking the chance.

“I’m doing this,” she said. “You don’t have to come with me, Nobu, but I refuse to turn my back. I’m stepping into that ring and, if all the lore is true and I get sucked into Faerie, well… then you’ll know, won’t you? You’ll know once and for all, for sure, one-hundred percent.”

He sighed. “I know it won’t matter what I say but I have to ask you not to do this, Sadie. Please. If Faerie is real, and you do open a door into that world, you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into. You could get trapped in between the two worlds – in Limbo – and never see me or anyone else ever again.”

They stared intently at each other for a moment and then, from the trees on the other side of the Ring, there came a voice that said, “He has a point, you know.”

Sadie and Nobu both turned to look, squinting through the beam of hot yellow sunlight that cut the air between them and whoever had spoken. The voice came again. “You really should not pass into Faerie without a proper guide, my lady. I would hate to have to travel into Limbo to rescue you.”

Sadie stood still and watched as the figure on the other side of the Ring began to move toward her, cutting straight across the patch of grass. Bars of golden sunlight poured down all around the tall, lean, figure, igniting his unruly hair like a rust red fire and dancing like fragments of diamond in his pale blue eyes.

It was like a moment in a movie; the wind blew gently through the trees, shaking branches together like nature’s wind chimes; time itself felt as though it had slowed down; in the distance, Sadie swore she could hear a beautiful bird song. Her chest ached for a moment as if her heart had swelled and threatened to burst. A sensation she had never known in her life washed over her, from head to toe, like a heat stroke. Her palms were sweating and her knees trembled, threatening to knock together and carry her crashing toward the ground at any moment.

She looked up. He stood before her, towering above her the way Nobu always had. He looked down at her with a sideways grin, and then bowed dramatically with one arm behind his back, the other extended toward her.

“It pleases me greatly to be once again in your presence, Miss Parker.”

Nobu snickered behind her and Sadie blushed. “Huh?”

“Forgive me,” said the mysterious red-haired boy. “I was told that you may not remember me. Let me introduce myself.” He took her hand, his skin soft and dotted here and there with faint freckles. His fingernails were painted gold. “My name is Quentin DeCroi, Soldier of the Solstice Army and Right Arm of the Daylight Prince. I have been looking for you a long, long time.”

[moonlit-maiden]

The Archer’s 1000 Picspam —> 87: Bisexual Fairer-than-a-Fairy

Fairy Re-Tellings

In a far-off land there lived a King and Queen who were blessed with many happy, healthy children. One day, the royal pair decided to take one of their routine journeys across the kingdom to see the people and get a sense of the goings on. As they journeyed, the Queen asked to stop at a castle, for she was heavy with child. Said child was ready to be born and came crying into the world with strong lungs and tears down her face. But despite the tears and afterbirth, she shone with a loveliness that was almost unearthly. Thus, she was dubbed Fairer-then-a-Fairy by the attending midwives.

As Fairer-then-a-Fairy grew, her loveliness continued to bloom; skin so pale as to be translucent, hair light and waved like silky moonbeams. Her eyes were a pale grey and lips as sweet-pink as rose petals. Her beauty became known throughout the lands and many came to visit, just to catch a glimpse of her loveliness. One such king brought his daughter, Désirs. Désirs was almost Fairer-then-a-Fairy’s opposite in coloring; hair dark and thick like midnight, eyes the rich brown of soil after the rain, and delicate freckles sprinkled over her nose bridge and cheekbones like stardust. The two young maids met and fell in love, hearts pounding and cheeks flushed as secret smiles were exchanged. Many times after that the two princesses would sneak away and spend long twilights in the gardens, talking about their lives as they held hands and gifted one another with sugary kisses.

One springtime, Désirs did not appear. Her letters became stilled and Fairer-then-a-Fairy wept, heart broken in her chest. She wrote letter after letter, begging for forgiveness for whatever transgression she had mad in err. Still no reply. Fairer-then-a-Fairy stopped writing, silently locking away her sorrow.

At the age of 12, word of Fairer-then-a-Fairy’s beauty had spread so far as to reach the ears of the ephemeral Fae. They seethed in anger at the audacity to name a human such a thing, but also of whatever forces of Fate had gifted a lowly human with such radiant beauty. The Queen of the Fae, Nabote, knew this scalding insult could not stand. And so, she went to the castle, planning to drag the impudent wench from her own home to receive her punishment. As she did, she was ensnared by magic and cried out in agony as the spell woven into the very mortar of the castle lashed at her. It seemed a spell had been placed on the castle that allowed the occupants neither to be taken from their home unwillingly nor to be bewitched into leaving themselves. Queen Nabote knew this would make her task more difficult but she wasn’t the Queen of the Fae for nothing.

To this end, Nabote transformed herself into a simple servant girl and entered the service of the royal family. In this way she befriended Fairer-then-a-Fairy and once gaining the naive girl’s trust, laid out her plan. In truth, Fairer-then-a-Fairy found the servant girl beautiful, reminding her of her lost love Désirs. So, when the disguised fae feinted fainting outside the castle walls in line of Fairer-then-a-Fairy’s sight, the girl rushed to her side and was taken away.

Fairer-then-a-Fairy was placed into an enchanted room, her silks and chiffon shredded into rags and caked in mud as she had been dragged by the Fae Queen. ‘Clean until this is spotless!’ she was commanded, before being left all alone. But try as the girl might, the room only became more sullied. Should she sweep, her broom deposited dirt. Should she dust, the feather duster coughed up cobwebs.  Fairer-then-a-Fairy sat down in the filth and cried, heartbroken once again in sorrow for being taken from her home and family.

Unknown to the girl, another fae watched her weep, heartstrings pulled both by her sorrow and her beauty. It was the Queen’s son, Phratis, who watched the innocent girl cry and in a fit of passion decided to help instead of hurt. With the flick of his willowy wrist he made the dirt disappear and Fairer-then-a-Fairy startled at the sudden change. ‘I mean you no harm.’ Phratis said shyly, revealing himself to the human. Fairer-then-a-Fairy couldn’t help but stare at the young man, the way his limbs moved with inhuman grace, the way his eyes were the soft green of the meadow. She caught freckles sprinkled across his collarbone and cheeks like fairy dust, hair waved and wild like a dark wind. The human flushed at such beauty in a man, noting only when she looked away the gossamer wings behind him, like a dragonfly’s.

‘Take this key.’ Phratis instructed. ‘And open the wooden panel right over there. Look what is behind and take joy into your heart again.’ For he knew what was behind the panel and though it ached his heart, so taken by Fairer-then-a-Fairy’s beauty that he’d rather her happiness then his own. Fairer-then-a-Fairy did as instructed and cried out in joy when her eyes set upon the princess, Désirs. The two locked gazes and sprang into each other’s arms, weeping with joy. Désirs explained to her beloved princess as to her disappearance; she had been taken by the fae for her dark beauty, the fae angered that Fate had gifted a human so. ‘Why must they cage beauty?’ Fairer-then-a-Fairy asked out loud, stroking Désirs midnight hair. ‘Because we cannot bear to let it be free from us.’ Phratis whispered in reply at the archway as he looked at the joy the two girls shared.

With another wave, Phratis cleaned the eternally dirtied room Désirs occupied and disappeared, hoping this would be enough to let the princesses be free and happy together. Alas, it was for naught. When the fae guards came to check on the girls, they saw the spotless rooms and reported this to Queen Nabote. The queen flew into a rage and came herself to see the miracle. She knew only another fae could have done this and so ripped the girls apart and tasked them once more; Fairer-then-a-Fairy was to gather the Water of Immortal Life from the peak of Mount Adventurous as Désirs was sent to a beach to write something, anything, on the sands on the condition it never faded neither by ocean waves or sea winds.

Fairer-then-a-Fairy was dragged away. Her arms and back were covered in scalding wax and large feathers pasted upon her as to imitate the wings of Icarus. She sobbed at the pain but flew, up and up and up until she almost couldn’t breathe the air so thin up so high where the peak resided. She tumbled just short of the top, unable to go up any higher or else no breath would reach her lungs. Again Phratis came, cradling the worn-out girl and softly singing to her to restore her strength. ‘Why do you help me?’ she asked. ‘Because I love you.’ was the simple reply. Fairer-then-a-Fairy was unsure what love really was. She was still young, in the spring of her youth. She knew being with Désirs brought her joy and warmth, a sweet pleasure in her belly as they kissed. Yet in Phratis’s arms she felt no fear but rather soothing calm. Was this love as well?

The fae prince took the pitcher and laid the princess down on a bed of enchanted heather that grew so high near the peak. He then flew the rest of the way and gathered the water with ease before bringing both water and girl down to the base. ‘Help Désirs. Please.’ Fairer-then-a-Fairy begged and the boy did so without hesitation.

When the two girls returned, tasks complete, Queen Nabote smiled all ice and diamonds. Her rage was now compressed and fused into the coldest of things. ‘I give you one final task.’ she said to the two girls. ‘And should you complete them? You will go free. But fail? You shall die.’ With the stakes raised, Fairer-then-a-Fairy was tasked with capturing the Hind with Silver Feet while Désirs was whisked away to the Fair of Time to collect the Rouge of Youth for the Queen.

Being left alone in a thick forest, Fairer-then-a-Fairy ran after the animal. But alas, she was just a human not even trained in the art of neither hunting nor running. Her limbs trembled after hours of running, energy drained from her body as twilight set in. Just as before Phratis came, this time with honeysuckle nectar for her parched throat and soft sweet rolls for her stomach. ‘I cannot do this. Why am I so weak!’ she lamented. ‘You are being tasked with things that, though easy for a fae, are impossible for a human. You have worked hard and done your best. There is no shame in accepting help.’ Fairer-then-a-Fairy leaned her head against the prince’s shoulder, thinking. With Phratis she did not feel helpless nor coddled. With his help and his gentle love she was finding strength to carry on for herself and Désirs. After a rest, the two went to a pool as smooth as a mirror and pure as the heavens. There they waited for the Hind. Once it approached, Phratis quickly roped its neck with vines he’d twisted together as Fairer-then-a-Fairy calmed the beast. Upon seeing some brambles stuck to its horns, Fairer-then-a-Fairy removed the offending object and freed the fae within the beast. For the Hind was the true Fairy Queen, ensnared by the false Queen Nabote in order to exact cruelty upon humans at a whim. Horrified, the trio went quickly to the fae palace to confront the fake Queen.

Upon their arrival, the three found Désirs about to be executed for not completing her task. Nabote shrank back in fear as the true Fae Queen came forward. With a sharp snap of her fingers, Nabote was turned into a squirrel which was promptly caged and taken away. Now freed, Désirs found herself in Fairer-then-a-Fairy’s embrace and tucked her face into the crook of her neck, inhaling her delicate scent. ‘As thanks for freeing me, I shall marry you to whomever you chose, be it human or fae, man or woman.’ the true Fae Queen said as she settled into her throne once again. At this, Fairer-then-a-Fairy was torn. But the dark-haired Princess saw this and tenderly cupped her lover’s face. ‘My Princess. Our time together had filled me with joy and light. Your kindness, your laughter, your will. You will forever be the fairest bloom of my heart. But I see it in your eyes that our shared time is gone and so I wish for you to feel no sorrow nor fear. Go to him and know I give you away with bittersweet joy. For though I wish you were mine, I will not take away your happiness for my own.’ Tears ran down Fairer-then-a-Fairy’s cheeks but she understood; time and experiences had changed her heart. Though she loved Désirs still, that love had changed and another took its place. The two shared one last kiss – the kiss of goodbye – before Fairer-then-a-Fairy went to Phratis’s side and shared with him the kiss of hello.

[josephkitchen0]

4 Chicken Runs and Coops Built from Recycled Materials

Have you ever wanted to build a chicken run and coop for your backyard chickens, but had no idea where to start? Take a look at these four inspiring chicken coop projects from chicken keepers around the country — all of them were made with a combination of recycled materials and elbow grease! It just goes to show that building chicken runs and coops doesn’t have to be expensive when you can reuse and recycle building materials.

Chicken runs and coops can come in all sizes and styles, depending on the size of your flock and your location. One of the great things about using local materials for building chicken runs and coops is that you reduce the total carbon footprint of your building and keep materials out of landfills. If you want some great ideas on how to build a chicken coop using local and recycled materials, look at these great stories for inspiration.

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Make Chicken Runs and Coops Using 100 Percent Recycled Materials

Michelle Jobgen, Illinois – We built our chicken runs and coop almost totally using recycled materials. We bought about $9 worth of screws. We recycled a barn that was falling in at a neighbor’s farm. We used whole pieces of the barn walls for the coop’s walls and floor. We used scraps of tin for the roof given to us by another neighbor. The old tin nesting box was actually on the property when we moved here. We just added plywood bottoms because they had rusted through. We screwed some shelf supports into the walls and screwed branches (instead of boards) about 2″ thick for our roosts. The can on top of the waterer keeps them from roosting on it, helping the water stay clean longer. The bungee cords on the feeder let us know when it’s getting low without having to enter the coop.

The Jobgen family used boards from an old barn for the walls and floor of their new coop.

  The roost is simply a branch from the yard, and the nest boxes were found on the property, with plywood added since the bottoms had rusted through. The loose tin can on the waterer keeps the birds from jumping or sitting on it, resulting in a much cleaner unit.

Move an Old Chicken Coop to a New Site

Marci Fouts, Colorado – Our chicken love story started out like many others. Newly moved to clean country living in northern Colorado from metropolitan Phoenix, we started out with a small flock of six chickens in an A-frame portable chicken coop in the backyard. We had many trials and tribulations; learning how to raise baby chicks, deciding when it was okay to turn the heat lamp off, how to dust for lice, etc. The next door neighbor’s dog wiped out all of our original flock except for one bird who was renamed Lucky. We started again and moved our portable chicken coop to a safer location with a better fence.

Our daughters, ages 8 and 10, were so excited when the first egg was discovered and they tried to guess which hen had laid the precious prize. Then it was on to the fair, where our oldest daughter won Grand Champion, Standard Other Breed, for her Ameraucana chickens; the trophy was bigger than the bird. That was all it took to get us hooked on chickens! We added more exotic breeds to our flock: bantam Sebrights, Frizzles and Silkies; and some new layers, giant silver Cochins and the reliable Leghorn. Before we knew it, we needed a bigger chicken coop and started investigating all kinds of chicken runs and coops for the backyard.

We live in a small town that continues to see development. While this is a positive thing for our economy, we feel a small twinge of disappointment each time we drive by a farm that has a for sale sign in front of it by a large developer. Such was the case for the building that we saved.

The original building wasn’t much to look at, but the Fouts family saw the potential.

  The Fouts loaded the old building onto a flatbed truck, and hauled it to the home site, below.

The Fouts loaded the old building onto a flatbed truck, and hauled it to the home site, below

With a bit of paint, new windows and lots of elbow grease, the coop is a lovely home for the Fouts’ birds.

On the corner of Eisenhower and I-287 is an old brick farmhouse, along with several farm buildings, that look as if they have stood there for 100 years. Unfortunately, it was on the corner of a busy intersection and was a prime location for a convenience store or gas station; so the land was for sale and the buildings were to be demolished. We felt if we could save at least one of the buildings, we were doing our small part in continuing to maintain our community’s farming heritage; not to mention keeping perfectly good materials from heading to the local landfill.

We called the developer, who gave us his permission to take one of the buildings from the site. We selected a small 8′ x 8′ building that sat on a 2′ high concrete foundation and had been used to hang chickens after they had been slaughtered. It was full of trash, mice, bugs, and cobwebs; but we could see its potential. We recruited some help and set about freeing our new coop from its current foundation and surrounding trees.

We thought that it would be a piece of cake to push the building onto the flatbed trailer, but that turned out not to be the case. The idea was to pull the building onto the flatbed atop two round poles using a come along; however, the bottom slats of siding on the building started to crush and shred as they snagged and got caught on the poles. Putting their creative heads together, the guys slid a round pole horizontally under the building and rolled it slowly across the long poles onto the trailer. It was a slow process and took almost four hours to move the building from its foundation to the trailer.

After strapping the building down tightly, we had an eight-mile drive to the new location. It was slow going, but our new coop made it safely and was ready to be lowered onto its new foundation using chains and the good old John Deere. The new 2 x 4 lumber foundation was built with a solid wood floor on 4 x 4 skids with large eye hooks on the ends so that the building could easily be pulled with a tractor to whatever location we desired. The coop was secured to the new foundation using 20 lag bolts.

Then the fun work began. With paint scrapers in hand, we painstakingly scraped off 30 years of dried paint and old wood splinters; removed old rotted window panes and pulled lots of rusty nails. We went back to the farmstead and found an old wooden door on another of the buildings that we modified to fit our coop. We pulled down cobwebs and scoured the inside so that it was clean and sterile, and built new nesting boxes and roosting ladders. The old wood on the outside was so thirsty, it soaked up three layers of paint as we painted the building and trim to match our barn. We purchased fence panels that are used to make a dog run and wrapped the chicken yard around the side and back of the building to ensure that regardless of sun location, our flock had plenty of shade.We moved our flock into their new home on a rainy Saturday afternoon. It was wonderful to watch them inspect their new quarters. They had plenty of space to walk around, scratch in fresh shavings and perch on their roosts, even with the stormy weather outside. Our recycled chicken coop has become a beautiful addition to our property and we feel good knowing that we were able to take something old and make it new again.

Indigenous Materials & Friends’ Donations to Build Chicken Runs and Coops

Lantz chicken coop

Jayne Lantz, Indiana – This is our chicken coop made from items friends and neighbors had lying around. We have 30 chickens at the present time living in the house.The chicken coop is built with 75 percent recycled materials, galvanized roofing, 2 x 4s, and stone. The inside walls have hickory flooring left over from our son’s house. The main expenses were concrete, the outside cage, and wire. The pen is 8′ x 16′, and the coop is 8′ x 8′.

This closeup of the door to the run shows the large spaced fencing. The Lantz family will add chicken wire around the entire run to keep out the numerous predators.

  Using stone from the property ensures a coop that will last a lifetime. The firewood behind the coop offers another natural option for building a coop—cordwood building. A cordwood coop building instructions can be found in the book, Chicken Coops, by Judy Pangman available from the Countryside bookstore. Another book on building with cordwood is Cordwood Building: The State of the Art by Rob Roy.

The young birds have a beautiful coop and—at least for now—clean nest boxes ready for use when they begin laying.

We will be adding chicken wire along the sides of the cage for chicken predator protection and we have chicken wire along the top of the pen also. We would have liked to have free range chickens but too many predators including fox, coyote, dogs, and muskrat prevent that. Many hours have been put into building this coop but my husband enjoyed doing it and having our friends and neighbors admire it as it was being built. We did plenty of research into building sturdy, attractive chicken runs and coops and are happy with what we finally ended up with!

Build Chicken Runs and Coops By Using What You Have Now

Rocky Mountain Rooster’s Coop Bed & Breakfast—Hens Welcome! The Griesemers, Colorado – We got three Barred Rock hens and one Rhode Island Red rooster this spring and wanted to make sure they had great “accommodations”. We looked into many different ways to build chicken runs and coops, and my husband decided to build this 12′ x 12′ chicken coop with an attached 12′ x 12′ run. We call it The Rooster’s Coop Bed & Breakfast. They sleep in, come and go as they please and each hen lays nearly one egg a day for us. These are our first chickens ever and we can’t wait to add more to our flock!

When the Griesemers thought the small coop wasn’t sufficient, they turned an unused loafing shed into a coop and turned it into their new home. They filled the loafing shed’s dirt floor with hay, packed it in very tight, and then put plywood on top of that. They insulated the walls and ceiling, then put plywood over it. They added a window, door and walk-out door for the chickens, put up a few decorations, and finished with a 12 x 12 x 24 run.

The Griesemers had a perfect flock of three Barred Rock hens and one Rhode Island Red hen…until the Rhode Island Red began crowing.

All the comforts of home, for birds and humans alike.

We started our chicken journey in April 2009 with four hens. They were the cutest little things. We named the littlest chick “Peep” because that was all she could do. What a precious little thing. We kept them in a 2′ x 4′ x 4′ wooden coop with two little nests and thought this would be perfect for them. After all, they were so tiny and seemed to be very content to cuddle for warmth. Things were going wonderfully and we couldn’t wait for our hens to turn six months old so we could have fresh eggs!

We were reading all about raising chickens and looked at all kinds of options for building chicken runs and coops – we were trying to be prepared. We had a heat lamp, lots of fresh food and water and we would spend loads of time with them, talking to them and bonding. Month after month, our hens were growing, having all the feed, scratch, bread, oatmeal, cornbread, and veggies, that their little hearts desired. We thought it was funny though, that little Peep was filling out differently than the other hens…and we thought her colors were just gorgeous. Three Barred Rock hens and one Rhode Island Red hen … what a perfect flock!

To make a long (and very obvious) story short, we learned that little Peep wasn’t a hen, but a rooster. One day we heard this little “hen” making the strangest sound, and we looked at each other and just laughed. Our little Peep was growing up and had just tried his very first crow! After a few short weeks, Peep was crowing and quite proud to be doing so. We decided that three hens wouldn’t be enough for this little guy, so we got two more hens, a Lakenvelder and a Brown Leghorn, both beautiful. And Peep was very happy his flock was growing…with all hens.We decided that their little 2′ x 4′ x 4′ just wouldn’t do it, so we took an extra 12′ x 12′ x 12′ loafing shed and turned it into their new home. We filled the loafing shed’s dirt floor with hay, packed it in very tightly, and then put plywood on top of that.

The smallest hen, the Brown Leghorn, BeeBee, lays the biggest, whitest eggs the Griesemers have ever seen. A friend, after seeing the white egg, asked if it was from a goose! They just smiled.

We had seen other insulated chicken runs and coops and used those ideas to finish building our backyard chicken house. We took 3″ foam insulation, lined the walls and ceiling with that, and put plywood sheets on top of the insulation. On the front wall, we added a small window with a screen, a walk-in door with glass and screens, and a little walk-out door for the chickens. Next, we built six chicken nest boxes, put hay in them, put up four chicken roosting bars, separated the room with wood to lay a thick layer of pine shavings on the floor for the chickens. On the other side of the room, we laid linoleum for us to walk on to go in to feed and clean out the coop. What a treat! Then we built a 12 x 12 x 24 run and attached it to the coop to ensure the chicken hawks, falcons and other birds that we have here in Colorado wouldn’t have a meal to go!

Our girls just love the nests, coop and run and are now giving us around four eggs a day. We both wish we had done this years ago! We love our chickens and adopt more hens. We now have nine hens and our rooster, Peep. Needless to say, he is a very happy rooster!

Originally published in 2009 and regularly vetted for accuracy.

4 Chicken Runs and Coops Built from Recycled Materials was originally posted by All About Chickens

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Transform Tuesday!!    

Is it Spring Yet?

Spring is almost upon us. It is almost time to break out those cleaning implements and do a spring cleaning. Although there is still some time before the cleaning begins we can decide now on what needs to be cleaned and what should stay or be tossed out.

That pile in the garage is big!

From my perspective a lot of the things that we own somehow end up in the garage in a pile that is usually in the way. When spring arrives it might be time to transform the garage storage unit into a place to park the car. I mean that is what it was built for anyway right? Once all of that clutter is off the clean the floor and the car is parked inside, it feels great to have everything is its right place.That is until the piles stack up again and next year we start all over again.

Dust, Dust, and More Dust...

Another part of transforming our lives comes in the form of cleaning out our home from top to bottom. This means sweeping out the cobwebs, cleaning the baseboards, thoroughly cleaning the rugs and carpets to get all of the dust and lint out. Cleaning under the beds and tidying up the closet.

One final thing that should be cleaned and may have not even crossed your mind, is the dryer vent.

What is a dryer vent?

When we use the dryer the hot humid air travels from the dryer through a transition hose to the dryer vent, that situated behind the wall, and moves the air, moisture and lint up and out of the house. Over time the dryer vent can become so clogged with lint and sometimes other debris that the dryer cannot properly exhaust the air out.

When this happens it takes the dryer longer to dry clothes and could even break the dryer making it stop drying altogether. Not properly maintaining your dryer vent may cost you more than you think. Loss of energy, time and money. Funds loss on the energy it takes to run your dryer multiple times to get one load of laundry dried and repairs on your dryer. With all the other things in life that require your attention, who has time to be waiting 2 or 3 hours for the laundry to dry. 

Luckily, Superior Dryer Vent Cleaning is here to help with your Spring Cleaning, your dryer vent anyways. Call (214) 494-9740 to schedule your appointment today and get ahead of the Spring Cleaning Game. 

Transform Tuesday

Let us all transform our Tuesdays and clean it all, to begin the next buildup of stuff and keep everything safe and running smoothly. Out with the old, in with the New!! 

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4 Chicken Runs and Coops Built from Recycled Materials

Have you ever wanted to build a chicken run and coop for your backyard chickens, but had no idea where to start? Take a look at these four inspiring chicken coop projects from chicken keepers around the country — all of them were made with a combination of recycled materials and elbow grease! It just goes to show that building chicken runs and coops doesn’t have to be expensive when you can reuse and recycle building materials.

Chicken runs and coops can come in all sizes and styles, depending on the size of your flock and your location. One of the great things about using local materials for building chicken runs and coops is that you reduce the total carbon footprint of your building and keep materials out of landfills. If you want some great ideas on how to build a chicken coop using local and recycled materials, look at these great stories for inspiration.

What do I need in my Chicken Coop?

Download this FREE Guide from our chicken housing experts — chicken coop plans to ideas for nesting boxes. YES! I want this Free Report »  

Make Chicken Runs and Coops Using 100 Percent Recycled Materials

Michelle Jobgen, Illinois – We built our chicken runs and coop almost totally using recycled materials. We bought about $9 worth of screws. We recycled a barn that was falling in at a neighbor’s farm. We used whole pieces of the barn walls for the coop’s walls and floor. We used scraps of tin for the roof given to us by another neighbor. The old tin nesting box was actually on the property when we moved here. We just added plywood bottoms because they had rusted through. We screwed some shelf supports into the walls and screwed branches (instead of boards) about 2″ thick for our roosts. The can on top of the waterer keeps them from roosting on it, helping the water stay clean longer. The bungee cords on the feeder let us know when it’s getting low without having to enter the coop.

The Jobgen family used boards from an old barn for the walls and floor of their new coop.

  The roost is simply a branch from the yard, and the nest boxes were found on the property, with plywood added since the bottoms had rusted through. The loose tin can on the waterer keeps the birds from jumping or sitting on it, resulting in a much cleaner unit.

Move an Old Chicken Coop to a New Site

Marci Fouts, Colorado – Our chicken love story started out like many others. Newly moved to clean country living in northern Colorado from metropolitan Phoenix, we started out with a small flock of six chickens in an A-frame portable chicken coop in the backyard. We had many trials and tribulations; learning how to raise baby chicks, deciding when it was okay to turn the heat lamp off, how to dust for lice, etc. The next door neighbor’s dog wiped out all of our original flock except for one bird who was renamed Lucky. We started again and moved our portable chicken coop to a safer location with a better fence.

Our daughters, ages 8 and 10, were so excited when the first egg was discovered and they tried to guess which hen had laid the precious prize. Then it was on to the fair, where our oldest daughter won Grand Champion, Standard Other Breed, for her Ameraucana chickens; the trophy was bigger than the bird. That was all it took to get us hooked on chickens! We added more exotic breeds to our flock: bantam Sebrights, Frizzles and Silkies; and some new layers, giant silver Cochins and the reliable Leghorn. Before we knew it, we needed a bigger chicken coop and started investigating all kinds of chicken runs and coops for the backyard.

We live in a small town that continues to see development. While this is a positive thing for our economy, we feel a small twinge of disappointment each time we drive by a farm that has a for sale sign in front of it by a large developer. Such was the case for the building that we saved.

The original building wasn’t much to look at, but the Fouts family saw the potential.

  The Fouts loaded the old building onto a flatbed truck, and hauled it to the home site, below.

The Fouts loaded the old building onto a flatbed truck, and hauled it to the home site, below

With a bit of paint, new windows and lots of elbow grease, the coop is a lovely home for the Fouts’ birds.

On the corner of Eisenhower and I-287 is an old brick farmhouse, along with several farm buildings, that look as if they have stood there for 100 years. Unfortunately, it was on the corner of a busy intersection and was a prime location for a convenience store or gas station; so the land was for sale and the buildings were to be demolished. We felt if we could save at least one of the buildings, we were doing our small part in continuing to maintain our community’s farming heritage; not to mention keeping perfectly good materials from heading to the local landfill.

We called the developer, who gave us his permission to take one of the buildings from the site. We selected a small 8′ x 8′ building that sat on a 2′ high concrete foundation and had been used to hang chickens after they had been slaughtered. It was full of trash, mice, bugs, and cobwebs; but we could see its potential. We recruited some help and set about freeing our new coop from its current foundation and surrounding trees.

We thought that it would be a piece of cake to push the building onto the flatbed trailer, but that turned out not to be the case. The idea was to pull the building onto the flatbed atop two round poles using a come along; however, the bottom slats of siding on the building started to crush and shred as they snagged and got caught on the poles. Putting their creative heads together, the guys slid a round pole horizontally under the building and rolled it slowly across the long poles onto the trailer. It was a slow process and took almost four hours to move the building from its foundation to the trailer.

After strapping the building down tightly, we had an eight-mile drive to the new location. It was slow going, but our new coop made it safely and was ready to be lowered onto its new foundation using chains and the good old John Deere. The new 2 x 4 lumber foundation was built with a solid wood floor on 4 x 4 skids with large eye hooks on the ends so that the building could easily be pulled with a tractor to whatever location we desired. The coop was secured to the new foundation using 20 lag bolts.

Then the fun work began. With paint scrapers in hand, we painstakingly scraped off 30 years of dried paint and old wood splinters; removed old rotted window panes and pulled lots of rusty nails. We went back to the farmstead and found an old wooden door on another of the buildings that we modified to fit our coop. We pulled down cobwebs and scoured the inside so that it was clean and sterile, and built new nesting boxes and roosting ladders. The old wood on the outside was so thirsty, it soaked up three layers of paint as we painted the building and trim to match our barn. We purchased fence panels that are used to make a dog run and wrapped the chicken yard around the side and back of the building to ensure that regardless of sun location, our flock had plenty of shade.We moved our flock into their new home on a rainy Saturday afternoon. It was wonderful to watch them inspect their new quarters. They had plenty of space to walk around, scratch in fresh shavings and perch on their roosts, even with the stormy weather outside. Our recycled chicken coop has become a beautiful addition to our property and we feel good knowing that we were able to take something old and make it new again.

Indigenous Materials & Friends’ Donations to Build Chicken Runs and Coops

Lantz chicken coop

Jayne Lantz, Indiana – This is our chicken coop made from items friends and neighbors had lying around. We have 30 chickens at the present time living in the house.The chicken coop is built with 75 percent recycled materials, galvanized roofing, 2 x 4s, and stone. The inside walls have hickory flooring left over from our son’s house. The main expenses were concrete, the outside cage, and wire. The pen is 8′ x 16′, and the coop is 8′ x 8′.

This closeup of the door to the run shows the large spaced fencing. The Lantz family will add chicken wire around the entire run to keep out the numerous predators.

  Using stone from the property ensures a coop that will last a lifetime. The firewood behind the coop offers another natural option for building a coop—cordwood building. A cordwood coop building instructions can be found in the book, Chicken Coops, by Judy Pangman available from the Countryside bookstore. Another book on building with cordwood is Cordwood Building: The State of the Art by Rob Roy.

The young birds have a beautiful coop and—at least for now—clean nest boxes ready for use when they begin laying.

We will be adding chicken wire along the sides of the cage for chicken predator protection and we have chicken wire along the top of the pen also. We would have liked to have free range chickens but too many predators including fox, coyote, dogs, and muskrat prevent that. Many hours have been put into building this coop but my husband enjoyed doing it and having our friends and neighbors admire it as it was being built. We did plenty of research into building sturdy, attractive chicken runs and coops and are happy with what we finally ended up with!

Build Chicken Runs and Coops By Using What You Have Now

Rocky Mountain Rooster’s Coop Bed & Breakfast—Hens Welcome! The Griesemers, Colorado – We got three Barred Rock hens and one Rhode Island Red rooster this spring and wanted to make sure they had great “accommodations”. We looked into many different ways to build chicken runs and coops, and my husband decided to build this 12′ x 12′ chicken coop with an attached 12′ x 12′ run. We call it The Rooster’s Coop Bed & Breakfast. They sleep in, come and go as they please and each hen lays nearly one egg a day for us. These are our first chickens ever and we can’t wait to add more to our flock!

When the Griesemers thought the small coop wasn’t sufficient, they turned an unused loafing shed into a coop and turned it into their new home. They filled the loafing shed’s dirt floor with hay, packed it in very tight, and then put plywood on top of that. They insulated the walls and ceiling, then put plywood over it. They added a window, door and walk-out door for the chickens, put up a few decorations, and finished with a 12 x 12 x 24 run.

The Griesemers had a perfect flock of three Barred Rock hens and one Rhode Island Red hen…until the Rhode Island Red began crowing.

All the comforts of home, for birds and humans alike.

We started our chicken journey in April 2009 with four hens. They were the cutest little things. We named the littlest chick “Peep” because that was all she could do. What a precious little thing. We kept them in a 2′ x 4′ x 4′ wooden coop with two little nests and thought this would be perfect for them. After all, they were so tiny and seemed to be very content to cuddle for warmth. Things were going wonderfully and we couldn’t wait for our hens to turn six months old so we could have fresh eggs!

We were reading all about raising chickens and looked at all kinds of options for building chicken runs and coops – we were trying to be prepared. We had a heat lamp, lots of fresh food and water and we would spend loads of time with them, talking to them and bonding. Month after month, our hens were growing, having all the feed, scratch, bread, oatmeal, cornbread, and veggies, that their little hearts desired. We thought it was funny though, that little Peep was filling out differently than the other hens…and we thought her colors were just gorgeous. Three Barred Rock hens and one Rhode Island Red hen … what a perfect flock!

To make a long (and very obvious) story short, we learned that little Peep wasn’t a hen, but a rooster. One day we heard this little “hen” making the strangest sound, and we looked at each other and just laughed. Our little Peep was growing up and had just tried his very first crow! After a few short weeks, Peep was crowing and quite proud to be doing so. We decided that three hens wouldn’t be enough for this little guy, so we got two more hens, a Lakenvelder and a Brown Leghorn, both beautiful. And Peep was very happy his flock was growing…with all hens.We decided that their little 2′ x 4′ x 4′ just wouldn’t do it, so we took an extra 12′ x 12′ x 12′ loafing shed and turned it into their new home. We filled the loafing shed’s dirt floor with hay, packed it in very tightly, and then put plywood on top of that.

The smallest hen, the Brown Leghorn, BeeBee, lays the biggest, whitest eggs the Griesemers have ever seen. A friend, after seeing the white egg, asked if it was from a goose! They just smiled.

We had seen other insulated chicken runs and coops and used those ideas to finish building our backyard chicken house. We took 3″ foam insulation, lined the walls and ceiling with that, and put plywood sheets on top of the insulation. On the front wall, we added a small window with a screen, a walk-in door with glass and screens, and a little walk-out door for the chickens. Next, we built six chicken nest boxes, put hay in them, put up four chicken roosting bars, separated the room with wood to lay a thick layer of pine shavings on the floor for the chickens. On the other side of the room, we laid linoleum for us to walk on to go in to feed and clean out the coop. What a treat! Then we built a 12 x 12 x 24 run and attached it to the coop to ensure the chicken hawks, falcons and other birds that we have here in Colorado wouldn’t have a meal to go!

Our girls just love the nests, coop and run and are now giving us around four eggs a day. We both wish we had done this years ago! We love our chickens and adopt more hens. We now have nine hens and our rooster, Peep. Needless to say, he is a very happy rooster!

Originally published in 2009 and regularly vetted for accuracy.

4 Chicken Runs and Coops Built from Recycled Materials was originally posted by All About Chickens