#if i heard wait by the river live i think i would COMBUST you are a stronger person than me by far<333 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

simplybakugou · 4 years

Text

Grown Up

↝ Your nerves and feelings are high when you finally meet your boyfriend’s mother.

BINGO SPACE: Meet the Family

⋆ PAIRING: prohero!midoriya x fem!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: fluff ⋆ WORD COUNT: 1750

A/N: in the midst of moving into a new place i somehow managed to write another @bnhabookclub bingo piece! this was so cute to write and i really enjoyed it. thank you to the lovely @sanguinekeigo for requesting midoriya for this prompt! the midoriya transparent cap is from the bnha google drive!

FULL BINGO MASTERLIST

✐posted 08.18.2020✐

Your hands were shaking in your lap the closer you got to the Midoriya house, the bouquet of flowers in your hold being the only thing you could balance out your nerves. The more you mentally reassured yourself that everything was going to be okay and that nothing would go wrong, you once again thought about all of the things that could go wrong over this dinner.

“Don’t worry, Y/N, everything’ll be okay,” Midoriya comforted you from beside you in the car.

You glanced over to your boyfriend, suppressing your laughter as you could see sweat nearly pouring down his forehead as his hands were ghost white from how tightly he was gripping onto the steering wheel. “Izuku, you look more nervous than I do.”

His anxious expression settled down into a small smile as he looked at you once arriving at a stoplight. “I just really want Mom to love you as much as I do.” You felt flustered and touched by his sweet words, leaning over to give him a peck on the cheek before the light turned green.

If someone had told you that you would be dating the number one hero in the world, you would have called them crazy, never being able to perceive such an outlandish thing to be true. But here you were, on your way to finally meet your pro hero boyfriend’s mother after dating for over a year.

After moving into a new city, you managed to land yourself a job as a receptionist at a top hero’s agency: Todoroki Shouto. To say you were ecstatic would be an understatement as you never imagined to actually get the job you had been praying to get. In no time you assimilated into your new living space and work environment.

But what you didn’t know was that being the first person that anyone who walks into Todoroki’s agency sees meant that you would meet a variety of pro heroes, including Midoriya himself.

One day after having to deal with some official business with his former classmate and close friend at his agency, Midoriya decided to pay a visit to Todoroki’s agency in person rather than sending his assistant over. This was one of the decisions he made in his life that he didn’t dare to regret.

The second he laid eyes on you he nearly choked on his own breath, astonished by your beauty. He stumbled on his words as he tried to explain to you that he had to meet your boss and you found his trepidation adorable. Since then Midoriya found himself coming up with any excuse he could think of to see you or even to catch a peek at you through the glass doors of the agency while walking by the building.

You had him wrapped around your finger without even knowing and once you did catch onto his little crush, you decided to ask him out yourself, almost making him spontaneously combust in the process.

For Midoriya this relationship was a big deal. Due to all the work he put into his high school career and the work he was currently doing to maintain his number one status, Midoriya was never able to find the time to actually focus on his love life. As nice as it would have been to get a girlfriend during high school, it unfortunately never happened. So once the two of you started dating, Midoriya began falling for you fast. You made him feel ways he could only imagine feeling. This made him all the more nervous for the love of his life to meet one of the most important people in his life. It would be his first time bringing a girl over for his mother to meet and he was both excited and terrified with how this meeting could go.

Finally you both arrived in front of Midoriya Inko’s home and Midoriya stayed frozen solid in his seat. You nearly had to pull him out of the vehicle yourself just to get him to go to the front door. And once he did, you were both sweating buckets as reality set in.

Right when you pushed the button to ring the doorbell, the door swung open as Inko stood in front of the two of you with a quivering but wide smile on her face, one that was similar to her son’s. It was quite evident from the second you saw her that Midoriya took after his mother almost entirely.

“Izuku!” Inko exclaimed joyously, reaching up to hug her son who had grown so much taller than she was.

Midoriya hugged his mother tightly, not being able to remember the last time he had seen her in person.

Once Inko pulled away from him, you handed her the flowers you had bought her and she thanked you vehemently before accepting them, clasping one of her hands in yours. “You must be, Y/N. Izuku’s told me so much about you!”

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Midoriya,” you replied as she embraced you as well.

“Oh no, please call me Inko!” She insisted, opening the door further for you both to enter. “Come in, you two! I have dinner ready!”

You thanked her as you stepped inside, Midoriya right behind you. You both stood staring down at the impressive spread of dishes laid out across the elongated table. The surface was covered in your favorite dishes as well as Midoriya’s.

“Mom, isn’t this too much?” Midoriya asked.

“Of course not!” Inko shook her head as she urged you to take a seat. She smiled at you. “Izuku told me what your favorite foods were so I made them!”

“Thank you so much,” you said, making sure to thank her as much as you could before you and Midoriya began eating.

Inko’s place was much more spacious than the previous apartment her and her son lived in during his U.A. days. Once Midoriya began earning a truckload of money thanks to his highly paying job, the first thing he did was buy his mother a house to which she responded with a river of tears. The walls were plastered with Midoriya’s face and it made you smile, showing exactly how much she truly and genuinely loves her son.

“So, Y/N, you work at the Todoroki agency, correct?” Inko asked, beaming at you in eagerness.

You chewed and swallowed your food before answering. “Yes. I work as a receptionist at the front desk actually. That’s how Izuku and I met.”

Midoriya nodded, his face practically glowing from his wide smile. “I always got nervous whenever I had to meet Todoroki and Y/N was the person I had to talk to everytime I walked into the building.”

“That sounds like you. So I’m guessing Y/N, you were the one who asked him out?” Inko asked amusingly.

You chuckled, nodding along. “Of course! He couldn’t even say hi to me without freaking out.”

You and Inko erupted into a round of laughter with one another and although he was on the butt end of your teasing, he was glad that things were going well.

As the night went on, the dinner went relatively well. Inko asked many questions, wanting to get to know the woman that her only child fell in love with. The more she got to know you, the more she understood how much of an amazing, kind, and caring person you were. She was comforted with knowing that Midoriya was in good hands.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom real quick. I’ll be right back!” Midoriya quipped, heading upstairs towards the restroom.

Inko watched as her son walked away, waiting until she heard the door close to quickly get up and grab something from under her seat. She made her way into the living room, urging you to follow her silently as you both sat onto the couch. She had a photobook in hand and she smiled gently at you. “It’s only right that I show you some pictures of baby Izuku. This is what parents do when they meet their child’s significant other, right?”

You laughed, nodding. “Of course! I’d love that.”

Inko opened the book, revealing the first picture of Midoriya as a newborn in his mother’s arms. Inko was overjoyed in the picture, her eyes flooding with tears. “I still remember this day like it was yesterday.”

You smiled as she turned the page and you both laughed at the sight of a naked baby Midoriya and you could already envision your boyfriend’s blushing and embarrassed face once he came and found out that his mom was revealing his past like this.

The photos progressed throughout Midoriya’s childhood until the final picture captured him in his U.A. uniform about to go out the door with his signature quivering smile on his face. Inko looked down fondly at the picture, touching it with her index finger.

“Back then he was so small, just barely taller than I was… and now he’s all grown up.” She paused for a moment. “He was so dead set on going to U.A. and being a hero and I still get scared from time to time whenever I see the news and he’s constantly putting his life in danger. In the past I tried to hold him back because I was afraid that he’d get hurt. But I know now that he just cares too much about people and wanting to help others that I can’t hold him back.”

She turned to you, tears in her eyes as a few teardrops streaked her cheeks. “I know this might be a lot to ask for, but could you please look after him? You must know as well as I do that he can’t help but get himself caught up in some kind of trouble all the time.”

You smiled at her, embracing her into a hug. “I’d be honored, too. You don’t have to worry like that anymore. I’m here to watch after him.”

Inko nearly sobbed as she cried silently on your shoulder. “Thank you so much, Y/N. I’m so glad he has someone as wonderful as you in his life.”

Midoriya leaned back on the wall as he smiled to himself as he had been listening this whole time. The biggest invisible weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

He was overjoyed to know that the two women he loved the most had finally met.

If you’d like to be added to my taglist, please join here!

Taglist: @pinkcowgirleggpanda @xtsundere-princess @wesparklebitch @hot-pocket01 @iamthe-leaf @ahrininetales @kirisclementine @happygalaxymilkshake @hookedinto-fictionalworlds @entraptas-kid-sister @mirakeul @thatpeachybandgirl @lmaobroccoli @anastar-legion @lowermoons @mykuronekome @susu-chan @selfship-mishaps @shycoffeeparadise

#midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #bnha midoriya #midoriya izuku #my hero academia #my hero academia imagines #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia imagines #boku no hero imagines #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n

136 notes · View notes

dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

Text

Ash The Ironbelly ~ KNJ [Request]

↱↱↱Word Count: 5.1k

↱↱↱Genre: Magical!AU, fluffy, crack? Tiny angst, platonic

↱↱↱Pairing: OT7 With Reader

↱↱↱A/n: Hope this is okay for you love! This was my first time writing something like this and I actually really enjoyed being able to ‘’create my own world’’ I guess I didn’t because I used a lot of harry potter references but I really enjoyed writing this

You took in a deep breath as you walked through the forest, taking in as much of the forest air into your lungs as you could manage. It was early feeding time which meant you'd just gone to feed the trolls and were heading down through the forest towards the lake where Jimin would be but you were walking slowly since the trolls and you occasionally looked after Hades whenever Tae wanted some help with the little guy. The morning dew on the grass kept leaking inside of your shoe but you didn't care, it made your morning walk extra refreshing and helped you wakeup a little bit more- as if you would need that after the 10-minute walk into the forest.

"Bert!" You cried out of excitement when you felt the oldest, and tallest troll of your bunch bend down and scoop you into his hand. He was sixteen feet tall and his hand was the size of boulders so you sat perfectly in the middle of his palm. He was nothing but a huge softy to everyone he met but because of his size everyone was terrified of him, so he moved out into the forest with his wife to get away from people.

"Wet." He grunted loudly as he carried you over to the lake, you smiled up at him running your hand along his skin as a thank you while you plunged into your pocket for earplugs so that the mermaids couldn't put you into a trance.

"Morning Bert has she got you moving her around, so lazy." Jimin teased smiling as Bert gently put you down by the river bank before disappearing back into the large green trees so he could go back to his wife Gertrude. They'd been together for as long as you and the rest of the boys had been living in this part of the woods, you and Namjoon had come together after finding secrets about the place. You wanted to study the creatures and help any of the sick and injured ones that you came across, the rest of the boys all agreed to help as well.

"How are they doing this morning?" You questioned Jimin who pointed at the rock that was always sitting half in and half out of the water, you stared at the mermaid that was laying there. She was beautiful and you were sure that somehow their siren calls didn't just end with their voices, their beauty could intoxicate people too. She was laid on the rock with her grey and blue trail trailing down by her side, her hair was brown and done in plats so it was easier to swim with. She span around to see you standing close to Jimin and she leered at you, diving into the water and swimming over to the riverbank to inspect you.

"Behave," Jimin warned her as she continued to leer at you from inside of the water, a lot more of them all coming to join in and watch you closely.

Jimin was in charge of the mermaids because he was the only one exempt to their siren song which sounded so sweet and irresistible when you first heard it but once you saw the effects it quickly lost its appeal. Especially when the grey tailed one almost dragged Jungkook under the river to drown him, the attraction was over but for some reason, none of it seemed to affect Jimin. You later found out through countless bits of research that it was because of Jimin's natural flirty tones, you just assumed he must have been part siren.

"Hows Gertrude doing?" You looked over at the trees and then sat down with Jimin on the riverbank looking at the water, it was foggy over the water but it still looked peaceful and beautiful.

"She's good, almost ready to blow bless her." You laughed softly thinking back to when you first had to look up Troll pregnancies, the woman in the market thought you were insane for doing what you did out here.

"I heard Namjoon went into town this morning," Your ears picked up at the sound of Namjoon leaving the hut you all lived in,

"Really? Like just got up and left?!" You stood up from the floor and brushed off the trousers you were wearing, Jimin started at you while nodding. It progressed, Namjoon hadn't left the hut since his phoenix had combusted into flames and not come back after the week of rest it was supposed to have. You'd read up that after one week if they didn't come back it was over and Namjoon hadn't taken it very well, he began locking himself up in his room not wanting to talk to anyone.

"Yeah, Jin said he saw him leaving when he went down to feed Buckbeak this morning." You nodded and looked over at the hut, Taehyung was just getting back from a walk with Hades, Yoongi and Kat so you were going to have to go and start breakfast.

"Extra bacon?" You questioned Jimin knowing what he was thinking already, he smirked and nodded watching you sprint off in the direction of the stone hut you all lived in.

"Who's a good boy? That's right, you're such a good boy aren't you?" You giggled in a tone that had the rest of the boys staring at you from around the kitchen table. They'd all come back from looking after their morning animals and you were fussing Hades, the Cerberus that you and Taehyung co-owned. You fed all three of his heads a raw steak before standing up on your feet and stroking the body. Three-headed pitbull stood at 6 inches tall and was huge but when you first got him he was only a little baby, so small and fluffy that you slept with him every night, despite Jin's claims that it would be bad for him,

'He's supposed to be like his ancestors.' His ancestors being the ones depicted on ancient Egypt vases and walls, or ones told in the stories of Greek gods.

"You pamper him too much," Jin said as he watched Hade's walk into your room of the hut and jump onto your bed getting ready to sleep away his morning walk.

"I do not, he deserves it." Yoongi stared at you then over at Kat, the Kitsune he was in charge of looking after. A nine-tailed fox which he insisted on everyone calling a Kitsune because of what locals had been turning nine-tailed foxes into online.

"Yoongi spoils Kat." You shot back and it sparked a debate between you all over the kitchen table.

"Is Namjoon still not back?" Hoseok asked later that night when he walked up to the door with Jungkook close behind him, you'd been sat on the doorstep for hours. Looking up at the pitch-black sky for a while, while you waited for Namjoon to come home but it was getting late and there was still no sign of him. Jungkook was sweating and covered in glitter so you assumed the Unicorn he had been looking after in the forest had just given birth, you grabbed him a beer from the basket you had on the doorstep beside you.

"Congratulations Granddad." You teased smirking as you grumbled about going for a shower and left the bottle of beer on the kitchen side.

"How are the jackalopes doing?" You questioned Hoseok who sat down beside you on the step, he was about to go into depth with what he'd been doing with them when you heard Namjoon's voice.

"You're up late." He sounded shocked to see you awake, probably because you were the first out of you all to head to bed and the first to wakeup.

"Colour me stupid but I was worried about you, where did you go?" He looked in his bag and you frowned wondering what he was doing when he told you to get everyone into the living room.

"What's this about?" You questioned but he ignored your questions and pushed through into the house without another word.

"Go wake Yoongi up and I'll get the rest of them." There was no way you were going to be in charge of ever waking Yoongi up,

"Hades, here." You tapped your hip and Hades followed you into the hut and jumped onto Taehyung's bed waking him up in an instant,

"Family meeting."

"What is it Namjoon? Why did you wake us all up for a family meeting, could it not have waited until tomorrow?" Jimin grumbled laying his head on Hade's back as Hade's slept on the back of the sofa.

"No, this is important. Look, Y/n...What do you remember about that old guy from the tavern?" Everyone stared at you waiting for answers and you shook your head while shrugging your shoulders,

"Not much, he was an old drunk that used to tell me tales about this old place." Before you all moved into the hut you were working in a small tavern in the village hearing all of the crazy stories. You knew of magic, and mystical creatures but you had no idea that they were so close by you could walk to them.

"Do you remember he told you about dragons?" Namjoon was sweating as he sat by the fire, his sachel held as close to it as it could get without catching and going up in flames.

"Yes and I also remember him telling me that this place was haunted...Namjoon dragons went out years ago, along with old ghost stories-" You slowed down to a stop when you saw Namjoon reaching into his bag to pull out a teal coloured scaled egg.

"Namjoon what is that?" Jin questioned leaning forward, reaching out his hand to touch it but Namjoon put it back into the sachel.

"A dragon egg." He answered proudly looking over at the boys who were all now suddenly wide awake and filled with questions about the dragon egg while you were too busy trying to remember where you'd put all of the books on them.

"Where did you get it?" Their voices began to drown out as you walked towards your room in the hut, Hades following close behind to watch what you were doing.

"Hold this," You whispered to him handing him the latch to the attic, he placed it down on the floor and watched closely as you scaled the wall and got into the attic with ease.

"Dragon eggs, dragon eggs," You repeated as you ran your hands over the stacks of books in the attic. You and Namjoon had put them all up there when you finally took over the animals that lived with you and didn't need them anymore.

"Got it, Hades!" The dog was standing to attention at the bottom of the attic drop and you passed down five different books to him.

"Take them to the boys." All three heads took a book each and you picked up the last two flicking through them to see if you could find any information on eggs.

"Keep them warm, we have to keep them hot. Body temperature is good too." You mumbled aloud to the boys as they watched you and Namjoon began to flick through the books in front of you both.

~22 Months later~

You were bouncing the egg from side to side in a baby sling that Jin had picked up from a flea market a couple of months ago. According to the book the egg should have hatched around the nine-month mark but yet here you were still holding an egg 22 months later.

"Like a baby elephant," Jimin said that morning before leaving to go down to the lake, Taehyung had taken overseeing to Bert for you while you and Namjoon stayed home to take care of the egg and Hades.

"Here, you look exhausted." Namjoon went to take the egg from your hands but it slipped falling and hitting the floor by Hades face, he sniffed it before looking up at you both.

"Are you fucking stupid?! Namjoon that's a fucking baby dragon and you just dropped it!" You screamed looking down at the egg and then back to Namjoon who was turning a bright red colour and clenching his jaw.

"It's a rock hard egg! I'm sure it's fine!" The tension was high in the air and you could have cut through it with a butterknife at this point. Namjoon and you had both been on edge for the last couple of months since the egg wasn't showing any signs of changing since it changed from it's teal colour to a dark blue one with red sparkles on every other scale.

"It's a baby dragon!" You screamed bending down to pick up the egg but noticing it was starting to wiggle around and a crack was forming around the top half of the egg.

"Namjoon! Namjoon!" You screamed as he stormed off into the kitchen to get the hot water bottles ready,

"It's happening! It's time!" You screeched, he came running into the room almost slipping on the rug as he came in and you, Namjoon and Hades all gathered around the egg waiting for it to hatch.

The door to the hut opened and Jimin's loud opera singing sounded through the hut,

"SHUT UP!" You both screamed in unison making him stare at you acting offended until he noticed you all huddled around the egg which was almost completely cracked in a circle.

"You're going to be parents." He joked looking at you while stroking Hades main head while staring at the egg and waiting for something to happen but, he was impatient and walked away the second nothing happened while he waited there.

"Namjoon." You moaned pushing his shoulder away from you, you'd taken the egg to bed and laid it between you so that if it hatched you'd hear him or her coming out of the egg to greet you but Namjoon was laid right next to you and the egg was smashed into tiny pieces.

"Namjoon!" You panicked pushing him off the bed to wake him up and he looked up at you rubbing his eyes,

"Where is he?!" Your voice was masked in panic while you looked around the room only spotting the golden dragon on the bed, laid asleep on the pillow between you and Namjoon.

"Awh, look..." You both slowly drew closer to the bed and sat down watching the tiny dragon sleep, he was around the size of a bearded sleeping with his wings spread on the pillow.

"So tiny," Namjoon whispered running the side of his pinky down the back of the dragon's back and smiling as the dragon woke up and tried to fly up onto his hand.

"Here little guy," You whispered picking him up in your hands and shifting so you were sitting in front of Namjoon with your legs crossed,

"Namjoon will hold you okay," Namjoon held out his hands and the dragon took a couple of steps before falling back down onto his front and curling up to sleep in Namjoon's palm.

"It's weird huh?" You whispered to Namjoon while nodding at the dragon,

"What?"

"All the books said he would be about the size of an infant but he's tiny." Namjoon hummed and laid back against the headboard of your bed. You sat beside him watching the dragon sleeping, it was letting out small puffs of smoke through his snot.

"I should take Hades out for his morning walk," You yawned looking over at the window to see the sun rising through the gaps in your blinds.

"What? No. What if he wakes up!?" You stared at Namjoon as you got up from the bed and shook your head at him promising him that he would be fine. All of the books said that baby dragons will eat scraps of meat and you had plenty in the fridge from what you fed Hades with.

"Come on boy," You clapped your leg and Hades followed you out of the room and into the kitchen where Jin was getting ready to leave and Jimin was drinking his first mug of coffee.

"Any sign of him yet?" You nodded over at your door and they all rushed inside to get a good look at the baby dragon while you took Hades out to see Bert and Gertrude, along with their baby.

"Hey! Hades found this really weird looking- what did I do?" You asked when you came back that morning to find all of them staring at you,

"You left! For three hours! What time do you even call this?!" Namjoon asked looking at the dragon which was sitting on Jin's shoulder,

"I call it 9 am, what do you call it?" You asked going over to the fridge and getting meat for Hades who looked unimpressed that you were both being stared at by all of the boys.

"You didn't even stay to come up with a name!?" Taehyung asked, you walked over to Jin and took the dragon from his shoulder holding him close to your face and giggling as he licked your nose.

"I thought we agreed if it was a boy he would be called Norbert and if it was a girl Norberta like in Harry Potter?" Namjoon scoffed pointing at the dragon and questioning if you really thought he looked like a Norbert,

"Nah maybe more like a Draco." You teased knowing that they all hated Draco in the films so they weren't going to call him after their most hated character - who happened to be your favourite.

"Hagrid?" Jimin suggested but none of them looked like what your dragon should have been named.

"I've got it!" Yoongi said as he looked over at you, the dragon was now crawling its way on top of your head and it sat in your hair.

"Ash." You stared at Namjoon who was thinking about it for a couple of minutes before he started nodding,

"It's cute,"

"And a pun...Yoongi I'm proud!" Jin yelled causing Yoongi to let out a groan of annoyance about how he'd made a pun when he really hadn't intended to in the first place.

"Ukrainian ironbelly," You mumbled tiredly as you walked out into the garden, Namjoon with sitting with Ash on the grass waiting for him to try and fly for the first time while you had been reading up on all the different breeds trying to nail down what he was.

"Ash, go on...go on." You clutched the book close to your chest to see Namjoon encouraging Ash to jump form the gate post he was on, Ash was the size of an infant now and was supposed to have learnt how to fly months ago but you figured he was a slow developer or a different breed of dragon.

"You think that's why he's a little on the slower side?" Namjoon whispered as if Ash could hear you and would get upset about it, you nodded slowly showing Namjoon the pages of the book.

"Ironbelly's are supposed to develop a little slower but once they reach-"

"Whoa." You sighed in agreement as you realised what photograph he'd just seen.

"Yep," Namjoon picked up the phone, the dragon shown was bigger than Bert and Gertrude put together and was supposed to grow as big as skyscrapers.

"Where did you get him, he's really rare Namjoon." You started scratching underneath his chin and he began blowing more and more smoke out of his nose until he started flapping his wings from excitement. The book Namjoon was holding dropped onto the grass as you both watched Ash with his eyes closed picking up into the air, it was just a little but enough that it could be considered flying. You hand pulled away and as soon as it did he dropped onto the fence post again and it was as if he was pouting at you both which made you giggle.

"Do you want a treat? Fly onto the floor and I'll give you an extra-large steak." Ash stared at you, then to Namjoon before flapping his wings and launching himself from the fence post flying a couple of metres before dropping onto the floor.

"He's a lot like you," Namjoon said wrapping his arm around your shoulders as you walked into the hut together to get the steak.

"What do you mean?" You laughed, Ash made his way up the small step and stood in front of the fridge where he knew the meat was kept.

"Will do just about anything for food." You hit his chest with the fridge door and grabbed the steak, glancing out of your peripheral vision to see Hades slowly making his way over.

"Yes baby, you get one too." Namjoon got three more steaks out and you bent down to feed Ash who grabbed the meat and began trying to fly up onto the table so he could eat in peace away from the three-headed dog that demolished his within a matter of seconds.

Jin came in from looking after Buckbeak - the hippogriff- that you all kept and he was sweating and panting,

"You went past the lake again didn't you?"

"He did! Angel nearly had my eye out trying to jump up in the air for him!" Jimin screamed coming into the house covered in water, you giggled at the sight and pointed over at the table.

"Jungkook went into town and brought back food," Jimin grumbled something under his breath and walked away while Jin got himself a plate of food and sat between Yoongi and Tae who were discussing something about Kat.

"She's starting to pine for someone, she needs breeding but I don't know anyone with male foxes...do I just let her go to find one? She keeps trying to go for the mountains," You glanced over at Kat who was chained down to the floor, it seemed harsh at first but letting her out into the wild at night offered too many problems and he didn't want her to be hunted or lost.

"Maybe take her out in the morning and keep up with her." You suggested before shoving a bunch of noodles into your mouth and looking back down at the articles you'd found online about Ironbellies.

"What are you two going to do?" You swallowed the food and looked at Jungkook who had said it,

"Do about what?" Namjoon questioned putting down his book and looking at the youngest boy, Jungkook shrugged his shoulders and pointed at Ash who was curled up between you and Namjoon.

"We've all seen the photos, he's going to get too big to stay around here and then what are you going to do?"

"Keep him..." You said slowly as if there was any other option. He was like a son to you and Namjoon you weren't about to give him up.

"Pretty soon he won't be small enough to lay in the space between you at night." You looked down at Ash who began stretching and yawning, you knew they were right but you'd grown so accustomed to him sleeping between you and Namjoon it was going to be weird going back to just sleeping alone. Namjoon would go back to his room and you would just lay there alone all night.

"We can still keep him here though, we have a huge forest he can go to-"

"He won't be happy there, he needs to be with his own kind." Jin offered but you'd heard enough and got up from the sofa making a fast exit and locked yourself in your bedroom.

That night when Namjoon came into the room you laid awake while he and Ash slept soundly beside you, what the boys had said was sticking in your mind and it was making you want to cry. The thought alone of giving Ash up was breaking your heart, you didn't want to have to do that but you knew he was going to want to be with his own kind. Shifting over you looked at Namjoon as he snored silently, he was just as attached to Ash as you were since his phoniex was gone but you knew this was going to hurt him more when Ash went.

"Fuck." You whispered as you let tears roll down your cheeks and onto the bed, you sniffled before turning over and stared at the wall not wanting to think about it but it was all that clouded your mind. A fog over every thought about Ash and Namjoon, a fog so thick it was hard to see a future for you guys anymore.

Namjoon knew what you'd been doing all week and for the last six months. You'd done nothing but stay awake until unholy hours researching dragon trainers, dragon inn's and ringing up different places to discuss their treatments of the animals but nothing seemed as good as what you and Namjoon were able to offer but you knew you weren't going to find something like that.

"You got a place?" You nodded sliding the photographs of the sanctuary over to him and looking at Ash who was outside the front of the house asleep. He was huge now, about the size of a double-decker bus and it was scaring you how fast he was growing, it meant you only had little time left and all you wanted to do was spend time with him but you couldn't.

"It looks lovely and it's out in the desert, they have free range...He'll love it." Namjoon's voice croaked and you knew he was getting just as upset about this as you were, no one wanted to see Ash leave but it was one of those things that had to happen.

"They have a lot of Ironbellies there, they opened the place up to breed them so they could bring more back and study them because as you know...there isn't a lot on him or dragons in general." You both stared out of the window at Ash and you got up to go out and feed him while Namjoon flicked through the pages that you'd given him,

"Hey buddy," You whispered walking over to Ash who waited for you to get closer before bowing his head down and letting you hug him. He was so tame and used to you guys that it was like having a dog rather than a dragon. Namjoon cleared his throat trying not to cry and when he looked up he saw you hugging Ash, he smiled softly at the sight knowing that you'd all grown close to him and it was going to kill you all to give him up. Even Hades had grown to love him sleeping outside with him most nights or sharing meat with him, Namjoon sighed looking back at the photos and deciding it was the better option for everyone if Ash went away but he was going to check something first.

The dreaded day had come around far too soon for your liking, you'd laid outside with Namjoon and Ash all night to spend a final night together before he left with the trainers today, you looked at Ash who was snoring just like Namjoon only small flames were shooting out into the firepit beside you both. It had kept you warm all night but was starting to die out since the morning dew was hitting again.

"Coffee?" You glanced over to see Yoongi who was holding a mug and you got up from the floor and laid your blanket over Namjoon.

"Thanks." You whispered taking the cup and sipping from it, he watched you closely as you sat in the kitchen but in view of the window.

"They won't escape, you have to let go y/n." You knew he was right, he'd done the same with Kat and she came back. With 10 different little Kitsunes along with her but she came back.

"It just sucks," You whimpered rubbing your tears on your sleeve and then looking at Yoongi who was sighing, he'd never been good at the comforting thing so he just tried to reassure you by hugging you.

"He'll do better there," Again, you knew he was right but it didn't make the situation any easier to deal with, Namjoon started stirring in his sleep and you looked out of the window to see why. Dragons were incoming which meant the time was coming for Ash to leave.

"You just have a couple of forms to sign but once they're all done you're good to go Mr and Mrs Kim." You stared at the man in front of you and Namjoon informed him that you weren't together,

"Odd, usually people who raise dragons together are usually couples. My sincere apologies." Namjoon noticed you gazing out of the window and nudged for you to go,

"I've got this, go say goodbye." You sniffled and walked out of the hut going over to Ash who was being pampered by the other dragon keepers,

"Can I be alone with him for a minute?" They left without a word and you looked at Ash who stared back down at you with his jet black eyes.

"Hey buddy, you're erm...You're going to go away for a while okay," You reached your hand up to his face and he nestled into your touch making you let the tears fall from your eyes.

"They're really nice though, and you'll find a girlfriend or you know, a boyfriend in no time." You sighed leaning your forehead onto his and he nudged you so you would fall onto the floor at his feet and cuddle him. The way you had fallen asleep the night before.

"Y/n it's time." You got up from the floor and Namjoon held you close to his waist as you watched the trainers unhook Ash from his chain and add ropes so that they could ride him home, his new home.

"I meant what we discussed Namjoon, any time." Namjoon nodded and you both watched closely as Ash began to take off into the air flying further and further away until he was a dot in the sky. You sniffled and Namjoon rubbed your waist comfortingly.

"What did you discuss?" You whispered trying to get your mind off never seeing Ash again when Namjoon turned you to face him, he wiped the tears from your eyes.

"Ash can come and see us every three months and we're more than welcome to fly out and see him whenever we want." Your heart picked up at the thought and you threw your arms around Namjoon as you thought about going to see Ash when he was settled.

"We could go and see him when he's finally settled down and maybe has someone to mate with." You giggled excitedly and Namjoon watched you as you ran into the house to tell the rest of the boys the good news about Ash.

Tagline:

@writingdreamsnottragedies @yoongisdumplingcheeks @snowy-meowl @lynnthevirgo @jooniesdarlingdimples @lyoongx @fan-ati--c @mitzwinchester @callingmyangel @rjsmochii @btsiguess-kpop @kneel-begyourpardon @taestannie

70 notes · View notes

teacupfulofstarshine · 5 years

Text

LOVELY, DARK, AND DEEP: CHAPTER 6

cw: mentions of existentialism, nonspecific discussions of death/the afterlife, minor angst, brief moment of panic

chapter 1 // chapter 2 // chapter 3 // chapter 4 // chapter 5 // read it on ao3!

word count: 6784

“What is that?”

Virgil looks up, lunch hanging out of his mouth. “Wh’s wh’?” He tears off a bite of his sandwich, chews, and swallows. Logan watches him intently from his shallow tank the entire time. “What’s what?”

“That thing you are consuming.”

“It’s a sandwich.”

“That is nonsensical,” Logan says, frowning. “From what I understand, human digestive systems are far inferior to ours. You require your fish to be consistently heated until all the flavor is gone and you have many other diet regulations that we do not. Yet even we cannot digest sand when it gets in our food. How are you doing so? Explain, please?”

Virgil gets the sense that he should be slightly insulted by what Logan’s said, but he isn’t. “There’s no actual sand in this, Logan.”

“Then why is it called a sandwich? Why do humans insist on calling things what they are not? I will never understand . . .”

“I think it’s named after some guy. Some earl or something, the first guy to make a sandwich. So now we call them all sandwiches even though there’s no actual sand in it.”

“That does not make sense,” Logan says, frowning.

“Listen, I don’t know what to tell you. You’re right, but I can’t exactly go around and change what a sandwich is called. That’s not how this works. That’s not how any of this works.” Logan makes a confused face.

“So it is not sand?”

“No, Logan. It’s not sand.” Logan scratches at the bandages wrapped around his arm, and Virgil swats his hand away. “Hey! What did I say about touching your bandages?”

“That I should not do that because my wounds could become infected and require a prolonged stay in this miniature human ocean,” Logan recites.

“And what are you doing?”

“Touching my bandages.”

“I’m gonna have to put you in a cone of shame at this rate.”

“What is a cone of shame?”

Virgil pulls out his cell phone and taps at the screen until an image of a dog wearing a cone appears. Logan hisses at it when he sees it. “You will not put that on me!”

“Well yeah, obviously. It wouldn’t stop you from fiddling with your bandages, and I don’t have a cone of shame for you. Plus, it’d fuck with your gills since they’re on your neck.” Logan shudders, reaching up to touch his gills where they lay flat and closed against his neck. Virgil remembers how they’d found him, slumped on the beach and barely breathing, gills pinned shut. “Hey, Lo?”

“What is it?”

“I have a question for you.”

“You have already asked me a question, but feel free to ask another.”

“Why don’t you have gills on your torso?”

“I am confused by the word ‘torso.’ Please elaborate?”

“Patton has gills on his neck, like you, but he also has them here.” Virgil sets his sandwich down and presses his hands to his ribcage, approximately where Patton’s larger set of gills is. “Roman has two sets of gills, too. But you only have one. Why is that?”

Logan frowns, touching his ribs. “I . . . do not know. Dad and Roman have always had two sets of gills. I have never had gills on my - torso, did you call it? - and until recently I never saw a reason for them. Now, of course, I can see where they may be beneficial . . .”

“So you’ve just . . . never had any gills other than the ones on your neck?”

“No, I have not.”

Virgil frowns. “That . . . seems strange . . .”

“I am sure it is, but I do not have any explanations to offer you.”

Logan swishes his tail restlessly in the shallow tank, glancing nervously towards the entrance to the ocean cove. Thomas had taken Roman and Patton out hunting earlier, leaving Logan and Virgil to wait around in the lab. “Are you okay?”

“Just anxious for my pod to return. I find that having them out of my direct line of sight makes me . . . incredibly uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“Virgil?”

“Hmm?”

“May I see more of those . . . ‘draws’ that you make, please?”

“My drawings?”

Logan’s cheeks flush just slightly, and Virgil has to forcibly stop himself from squealing at how adorable it is. “Yes. I find them . . . intriguing. You create such detailed, lifelike images with a few fancy sticks, and it is aesthetically pleasing. I enjoy them.”

Now it’s Virgil’s turn to blush. “I - wow, uh . . . thanks, L.”

“It is no trouble.”

Virgil picks up his sketchbook and holds it open for Logan with one hand. Logan leans forward to squint at the drawings, tilting his head to the side. “What is this a drawing of?”

Virgil peers over the sketchbook, trying to figure out what Logan’s looking at. “Oh. It’s the night sky, the stars and stuff.”

“What is a star?” Logan asks. “What is a sky?”

Virgil frowns, setting the book aside and reaching for his laptop. “You’ve never seen the sky before? You’ve never seen the stars? You have to have seen it at some point, right?” He pulls up a photo of the night sky and turns it around to show to Logan.

“Oh! I know what that is.”

Virgil hums. “So . . . what do you think that is, then?”

“It’s the Upper Ocean,” Logan says matter-of-factly.

“The Upper Ocean?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve never heard of that before.”

“It’s where the Seven Mother Goddesses live.” Logan points to the full moon in the picture. “That’s their palace right there.” Virgil blinks.

“It’s a what now?”

“It’s the palace of the Seven Mother Goddesses. They live there, in the Upper Ocean. They’re the ones who blessed us with the oceans. Before, there was no water at all, just hard, dry land. The Seven Mother Goddesses took pity on us. They brought a jar of water from the Upper Ocean and spilled it on the land. Everywhere the water touched, an ocean sprung up. They created the oceans for us to live in, and then sprinkled droplets of water over the remaining land so that those who lived there would have lakes and rivers. But all water sources connect back to the oceans, because the water from the Upper Ocean wants to collect back together.”

“Did these Seven Mother Goddesses stay here?”

“No. They returned to their palace in the Upper Ocean. They watch over us from up there.”

“So what are all these, then?” Virgil gestures to the stars.

“Those are the death palaces.”

“The what now?”

Logan looks at him as though he’s just asked what two plus two is. “The death palaces. When mer die, our spirits leave the ocean and are carried to the Upper Ocean. Each of those little glowing places in the sky is a death palace, where our spirits spend the rest of their afterlife. They’re at peace.”

“Oh. So it’s your heaven, basically?”

“What is a heaven?”

“Where you go after you die, if you’re good.”

“You go to the Upper Ocean if you’re bad, too,” Logan says. “But you don’t get a death palace. You just disintegrate. You’re reabsorbed as part of the ocean waters. You stop existing as you.”

“Damn. That’s harsh.”

“That is reality.”

Virgil isn’t in the business of arguing with the metaphysical beliefs of other people, especially merpeople that he’s only just gotten onto good terms with, so he lets it go. Logan continues looking through his sketchbook, periodically making comments as Virgil finishes his sandwich. “Can I try?”

“The sandwich? I hate to break it to you, but I already ate the whole thing, so . . .”

“Not the sandwich. The draw. I want to try.”

Virgil blinks. “You - you want to try drawing?”

“Yes. Is that an issue?”

“No, not at all! I just - I’m gonna have to go get some supplies. That’s all.”

“That is fine. I will wait here.”

Virgil puts his sketchbook down and hurries off upstairs, poking around for art supplies that he doesn’t mind sacrificing to this noble and very homosexual cause. He finds a stack of scrap printer paper, some old pencils that don’t produce the good quality graphite, and a stack of towels so that Logan doesn’t drip seawater all over the paper. He’s going to have to prepare Logan to suck at drawing (God only knows he did when he first started) and he’s not really sure how Logan will take it, but he’s going to have to try anyway.

He returns to the lab to find Logan attempting to heave himself out of the water and onto the floor. “Hey, hey, whoa whoa-whoa-whoa whoa, hey! What’cha doin’ there, buddy?”

“Attempting to remove myself from the tank. What do I appear to be doing?” Logan hisses in pain when he drags his scraped tail over the edge of the tank, flopping back into the water with a splash that only soaks part of the floor.

“Agitating your injuries and making your stay in the lab a lot longer than you want it to be?”

Logan’s tail swishes unhappily, but he doesn’t try and launch himself out of the tank again. “If you don’t wanna draw in the tank, I can move you onto one of the lab tables. You gotta tell me what you want, though. I’m not a mind reader.”

“I would prefer to be moved onto the table, please. It has become apparent that if you drop the draws into the water, they do not survive.”

“You got me there,” Virgil sighs. “That’s why I brought the towels. I can move you onto a table, and then we’ll make sure we dry you off thoroughly before you start drawing. Oh, and just a fair warning? You’re probably gonna suck at it at first.”

“What is . . . ‘suck’?”

“It means you’ll probably be really bad at it, since you’ve never done it before.”

“Were you ‘suck’ at it when you first started?”

“What you meant to say was did I suck when I first started, and yeah. I was terrible. The only reason I’m so good now is because I took a lot of classes and practiced for years. It’s okay if your drawings kinda suck. I’m not gonna judge you for not being good at it.”

“Good,” Logan says. “I find the idea of you thinking me incompetent distresses me a great deal.”

Virgil rapidly turns his back to Logan before he spontaneously combusts from the Gay. “Right! Well! I’m just gonna go ahead and wheel that lab table over then!”

“Alright.”

Virgil drags a rolling table over and locks the wheels, covering the surface in towels. “Are you ready over there?”

“Yes, I am.” Carefully, Virgil reaches into the tank, and Logan reaches his arms up to loop them around Virgil’s neck. Virgil lets one arm wrap around Logan’s back and slides the other one down to where his tail naturally bends in the middle. He very deliberately does not think about the fact that if Logan were a human with legs, his hand would be dangerously close to his ass right now.

Virgil quickly drags his head out of the gutter before he can wonder what that would be like. Logan flicks his tail up out of the water, coiling the end to drape around Virgil’s forearm. “Careful!” Virgil yelps, wobbling on his feet and nearly overbalancing. “What if I fall over and drop you?!”

“You will not,” Logan says, and wow his face is close to Virgil’s. His eyes are wide, and almost eerily luminescent under the fluorescent lights. The midnight-blue scales littered on his face (clustered around his eyes and nose, almost like freckles, like a mask) gleam, twinkling almost like stars, drawing Virgil in. “I have faith in you, Virgil. You will not drop me.”

“That’s a lotta faith to have in someone you wanted to kill a week and a half ago,” Virgil breathes. Logan smiles, huffing out a soft breath through his nose.

“You have not dropped me yet, Virgil.”

Virgil hurries to set Logan on the lab table before he loses his grip.

“You are pulling my hair!”

Logan pulls his head away, wincing and rubbing his head. Virgil gently sets the towel on the table, setting a hand on his shoulder; it’s absurdly warm, Logan notes. “I’m sorry, Lo. I forgot you’ve never used a towel before. Here, I’ll be gentler this time.”

The towel comes back, softer this time. Rather than wringing and pulling, it pats and squeezes gently, carefully smoothing his hair and pulling the water away. “There you go,” Virgil says. “All dry.” He smiles, and Logan feels something very strange begin to move in his heart. He leaves the towel draped around Logan’s shoulders and hands him another one. Logan carefully wipes down his arms and hands and torso while Virgil dries his back and tail.

It’s strange, feeling someone else’s hands on him. Logan is used to touch - he’s used to sleeping intertwined with Roman and their dad, he’s used to play-wrestling with Roman and hugging his dad, he’s used to his dad smoothing his hair out of his face and carefully applying seaweed over injuries from hunting or battles. He’s been touched, of course he has. Still, there’s something strange about the way he feels when Virgil touches him.

Virgil’s hands have power behind them. Logan knows that at any point, Virgil could snap and hurt him. This isn’t his world, after all; it’s Virgil’s. If Virgil wants to keep him and his pod in this lab for his own sick amusement, there’s very little he or Roman or even his dad could do to stop them. Fear of the humans has been drilled into him since he was a guppy. They have the power to tear his life apart and destroy the pod he’s worked so hard to build. Logan should be terrified. He should be trying to kill Virgil, or at the very least stun him.

He is not doing either of those things.

Logan allows himself to grow distracted, slowing down in his towelling of his arms to focus on the way Virgil dries his tail. He applies pressure to soak up the water, but he’s still gentle. He carefully moves the towel so that he’s not pressing on the tender bandaged areas. His lower lip is caught between his teeth, and he worries it with his upper teeth as he works.

For some strange reason, Logan can’t stop staring at that lip. He wonders what it would be like to smooth his fingertips over it. Would he be able to feel the indents from Virgil’s teeth in the skin? Would it be soft or chapped? What would it feel like to lean over and press his mouth to Virgil’s? To pull Virgil’s lower lip from between his teeth and suck it between his own? Would Virgil taste like the sea, or would he taste like that “sand witch” he had been eating?

“Uh . . . Logan?”

Logan startles, blinking rapidly and looking at Virgil, whose gaze has shifted from his tail to his face. “Are you okay there, buddy? You were kinda . . . starin’ at me.”

Virgil’s cheeks are faintly pink. Curious.

“I apologize. It was not my intention to stare at or confuse you,” Logan says, hastily turning his attention back to the towel wrapped around his forearms. “I merely found myself . . . what is the human expression? ‘Lost in thought.’ I did not mean to alarm you.”

“I mean, same,” Virgil says. “I do that all the time, and then the Doc asks me what the hell I’m doing staring at him. Don’t worry about it. I was worried I’d hurt you or something.”

“You would know if you had hurt me,” Logan says. “But you have yet to do so, and I am reasonably confident that you will not.” He feels his heart rate begin to pick up, unsure why it is doing so. Virgil’s cheeks get pinker still, and he quickly turns away, breaking their eye contact.

For some reason, this distresses Logan slightly.

Virgil finishes drying him off and places a stack of paper on the towels in front of Logan. “Here’s your paper, and here’s your pencil. Oh, fuck, wait - do you know how to hold a pencil?”

Logan takes the strange draw stick from Virgil, squinting at it curiously. “I . . . have never done so before. Perhaps if you were to demonstrate, I could copy your technique?”

Virgil pulls up a chair next to the table and props a sketchpad against the edge. “I mean, you gotta remember that I have years of practice doing this and you don’t,” he says, “but if you want, I can try.”

“That would be beneficial.”

Virgil pulls another draw stick from behind his ear and presses the non-draw end against his lip, humming. “What should I draw?”

Logan’s mouth moves before he can stop himself. “You could create a draw of me.”

Virgil’s eyes snap up to meet Logan’s. “You - you would be okay with that?”

“Your draws of me are very good,” Logan says. “And - and I do not mind when you create draws of me, and I am - I am right here, am I not?”

“You are . . .”

Virgil looks away, and Logan feels his face begin to burn. He is confused, but his confusion quickly fades when Virgil begins to make his draw. Logan studies the way he holds his draw stick, making sure that he’s not staring at Virgil when Virgil’s gaze flicks back up to him. He adjusts himself about seven times before leaning down to start his own project.

He quickly learns that Virgil was right - creating a draw is much harder than he makes it look. The draw stick is awkward in his hands, and as hard as he tries he can’t move it around easily like Virgil does.

“If you have a mistake,” Virgil says, glancing up again, “use this end.” He taps the pink end of the draw stick. “It’s called an eraser, it gets rid of the marks. Here, I’ll show you.” He makes a random line in the corner and then rubs the pink end back and forth rapidly, brushing the page off to reveal that the mark is gone.

Logan turns his draw stick around and tries to remove some of his mistakes from the paper. It takes him a few tries to get the hang of it, but he finally manages to scrub away his mistakes and start again. “Will . . . will I be able to produce a good draw, do you think?”

“Today? Probably not,” Virgil says, not looking up from his pad. “Eventually? Maybe, if you’re committed to getting better. It’s gonna take a while, and you are gonna hate your work at one point. You’re gonna wonder what the point of doing it over and over again is if you don’t seem to be getting any better. But then, one day, you . . .”

His voice takes on a faint, nostalgic tone. “One day, you’ll be looking back through your old work and you’ll compare it to the stuff you’ve just did that you thought was horrible and . . . and you’ll . . . you’ll realize how far you’ve come. And you’ll realize that even though you thought you were so, so shitty . . . you’re not. You’re improving. You’re getting better.”

“Are you alright?” Logan asks. “Your eyes are leaking.”

Virgil brushes the leak off of his face. “I’m alright,” he says. “I’m just . . . overwhelmed with emotion. I’ll be okay.”

Logan reaches out and gently brushes some of the leak off Virgil’s face with his fingertips. “I am sorry that I made you leak, Virgil.”

Virgil stammers. “I - uh - you - it - it wasn’t your fault.” He tilts his head, just a little, and presses it into Logan’s hand. The sensation fills Logan with light. “What are you trying to draw?”

“I am not sure. I have not ever tried to create a draw before, and I do not know what I should make. Perhaps I should make you?”

“Wh - you - draw - draw me?”

“Why not? You create beautiful draws of me all the time. It would only be logical to return the favor. If you would prefer that I do not, I can find another subject, but -”

“No! I - uh - that is - you can draw me I don’t mind!” Logan smiles brightly, curling the tip of his tail happily and pulling his hand away from Virgil’s face to pick up his draw stick again.

“It won’t be very good,” he says. “It won’t be as good as your draws of me. But I might be able to make one of you.”

“It’s okay if it’s not perfect,” Virgil says, still pink-faced and staring. “It’s allowed to be shitty. It’s allowed to suck. You’re allowed to do a bad job, you know that, right?”

“But I do not want to do a bad job,” Logan says. “I - I want -” He cuts himself off. He does his best not to voice his concerns, generally speaking, because they tend to be pointless and unresolvable. There is no point in bothering Virgil with his silly inadequacies.

“What?” Virgil says, looking at him. “What do you want, Logan?” His voice is very soft, and when Logan chances a quick glance in his direction he sees that Virgil is smiling softly at him. “You can tell me.”

“There would not be much point in doing so.”

“Are you sure? Even if there’s nothing I can do to actually make you feel better, sometimes just knowing that someone else is there for you can make you feel better. You know?”

“I . . . do not . . . want to bother you,” Logan says, looking down at the table and fiddling with his hands. He startles when he feels someone touch his tail.

“Hey,” Virgil says, gentle. “You’re not bothering me. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know, would I?”

“I suppose not . . .”

“So if I did ask, that must mean that I do want to know, isn’t that right?”

“That would make logical sense, yes.”

“So tell me what you want. Even if I can’t give it to you, I can at least listen.”

Logan feels his cheeks heat up. “I . . . do not want to do a bad job. You always do such a spectacular job when you make draws of me, and they make me look much more pleasing than I do naturally. I do not want to repay such a favor by creating draws of you that are unflattering. I want to give you something that I can be proud of. I want you to like it, even if you do not like it as much as I like the draws that you make of me. But I will never be able to create something like that. Certainly not today, at any rate, and possibly not ever. And that . . . makes me . . . feel . . . sad . . .”

Virgil reaches out and gently touches his hand. Logan wants to look at him, but keeps his gaze fixed firmly on the blank paper in front of him. “Lo, it - it’s okay.”

“How is it okay?”

“Well, for one thing, I think you’re pretty great looking already. You don’t need my drawings to make you look different or better or anything. Your scales are so cool, you look like the night sky! And as far as the unflattering drawing aspect goes, trust me. You couldn’t possibly create anything that looks any worse than I do on a daily basis. I look like a corpse that the Doc resurrected for the sole purpose of doing grunt work in the lab.”

Virgil snorts, laughing, and Logan finds himself laughing a little too, in spite of himself. “You . . . you do not look like that,” he manages. “I think that you look very nice. And I . . . appreciate what you say in regards to my . . . my scales. That was kind of you to say.”

“Well, it was true, wasn’t it?” Virgil smiles. Logan picks up the draw stick again, frowning at the paper. “You know that you don’t have to draw if you don’t want to, Logan.”

“I do want to,” Logan says, readjusting his hand around the draw stick. “I really do want to try and make a draw for you. I still do not think that it will be very good, but - but will you really be interested to see it no matter what?”

“I really will,” Virgil says. “And I can make a drawing of you while you make one of me. We can swap them afterwards!”

Logan looks up at him and smiles, and when Virgil smiles in response he feels a fresh surge of motivation.

Virgil jumps when the cell phone sitting on the table begins to buzz, rattling back and forth with such force that he snatches it up quickly for fear that it’ll fall to the floor. Logan snaps his head up from where he’s been bent over his sketchpad with intense focus. “What is that?!”

“Just my cell phone, don’t worry about it -”

“What is a cell phone?”

“It’s something that lets me talk to the Doc - hang on - Doc!”

“Virgil? What took you so long? You normally never wait more than two rings before picking up, I was worried something happened!” Thomas jokes.

“Doc, that’s not funny!” Thomas laughs anyway. “I was distracted, okay?”

“By what, the cute merman?”

“Doc! Keep your voice down! Are you coming back from hunting soon?”

“Well, I can’t fit any more fish on this boat, so I guess we are. I - what are you - stop that!”

“Uh . . . Doc?”

There’s a lot of rustling and shouting from the other end of the phone, causing Virgil to hold it away from his ear and squint at it in confusion. Logan looks up from his sketchpad, keeping it tilted towards his chest so that Virgil can’t see it until the drawing is complete. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to figure out what the fuck is happening right now.”

When the commotion from his phone finally dies down, Virgil pulls it back towards his ear. “Hello?”

“Human!”

“I have a name, you know.”

“Let me talk to my brother!”

“Not unless you ask nicely.”

“Human, let me talk to Logan!”

“Not unless you ask nicely. And use my name, for God’s sake!”

There’s a smacking sound from the other end of the line, and the melodic screeching that Virgil has come to recognize as Patton speaking when he’s partially out of the water. “Virgil,” Roman grits out, clearly having been freshly chastised, Can I please talk to Sharkbait?”

“Of course you can, now that you’ve asked me nicely,” Virgil taunts smugly. He sets the phone down on the table and quickly switches it to speaker mode. “Lo, there’s someone who wants to talk to you.”

“Oh?”

“Sharkbait!” Roman calls. “Dad and I are done hunting! We caught so much fish for you!”

“Really? Did you find my favorites?” Logan’s eyes light up at the sound of his brother’s voice.

“You bet we did! We caught so many! Don’t worry, we’ll bring plenty of fish home to you!”

Logan smiles, gently touching the cell phone on the table. “I know that you will, Roman. Did you have fun in the open ocean today?”

“Yeah, but hunting’s boring without you here to compete with. Dad doesn’t understand the way we compete to catch the most fish, so it’s not as much fun. Plus, he always wins the races because he’s so much bigger than me, and if I win it’s because he lets me.”

“I am sorry that I left you all alone like that,” Logan says softly. “I promise, I am trying my hardest to get better so that I can come back to the open ocean with you.”

Virgil pretends that the thought of Logan and his pod leaving doesn’t fill him with sadness. “We’re going to go and swim right back now, okay? We’ll see you soon, Sharkbait!”

“I will see you very soon indeed, Roman.”

When Logan hands the phone back to Virgil, he hangs up and slides it into his pocket. He picks up his pencil again, letting the tip rest against the line he’d been in the middle of drawing. It’s the overall curve of Logan’s tail, coiled neatly beneath him as he rests his arms on a haphazard rock pile on the water’s edge. Virgil’s never seen Logan in this position, but he can picture it quite easily.

Against his better judgement, he speaks. “Hey . . . Logan?”

“Yes, Virgil?”

“I just . . . I have a question for you.”

“What might that question be?”

“When you get better, you’re going to be able to swim around the open ocean with your pod again, right?”

“That is the goal, yes.”

“So, when that day comes, will . . . will you leave?”

“I do not wish to remain confined to a human lab for the rest of my life, Virgil,” Logan says, raising an eyebrow.

“No, that’s not what I meant! I know you want to get back home to the ocean with your pod, I’d want to go back too if I was in your position. I just wanted to know if . . . if you would ever come back.”

“What do you mean, come back?”

“To visit, I mean.” Virgil’s hand tightens around his pencil. “Would I ever see you again? I know that you want to go back to the ocean where you belong, but I - I dunno, you’re really cool, and I - I wanna see you again. I wanna hang out, even if you’re not here healing. And I could maybe keep teaching you to draw, if you wanted, but - but if you’d rather not, that - I’d understand, but I -”

He cuts his rambling off at the feeling of something resting gently on his knee. He looks up to see Logan, looking at him with a strange sort of intensity. “Would you like that?” Logan asks softly.

“Would I like what?”

“If we came back to visit you. Would that be something that would interest you?”

“I mean, yeah. You’re really cool, and I like hanging out with you. I know that you’re not really super into the whole ‘being-friends-with-humans’ thing, but . . . but I really wanna. Be friends with you, I mean. And you’re super fascinating, not just because I’ve never met a mer before, but because you’re a cool person to be around in general!”

Logan’s cheeks are slightly pink. “You . . . really want to be friends?”

“Yeah?”

“I - I would have to speak to my dad and Roman, of course,” Logan says. “They might not want to spend so much time in such close proximity to humans. But as for me . . . I think that, perhaps, visiting you on occasion would not be . . . the worst thing in the world. If nothing else, I would also like to continue learning to create draws with you.”

He shyly presents the sketchpad he’s been hiding to Virgil. It’s a fairly rudimentary drawing, but there are still several distinct markings that make it easy to tell it’s Virgil. There are carefully marked freckles on the face, with smeared blocks of graphite beneath the drawn and redrawn eyes to symbolize his eyeshadow. His shirt is drawn as baggy, with a weird lump at the back that Virgil suspects is supposed to represent him wearing a hoodie. He’s smiling in the sketch, and there’s a rectangle in one of his hands and a stick in the other.

“Am I . . . holding a drawing pad? And a pencil?”

“It seems that every time I see you, you’re carrying a draw stick and making even more wonderful draws. It seemed only fitting that I put them in my draw of you. Was that the wrong thing to do?"

“No, it was - it was sweet. I’m touched, Lo, really. This drawing is great. I love it”

Logan smiles at him, showing off his sharp, white teeth. Only a week ago, Virgil would have been terrified that he was about to lose a hand. Now, his stomach flutters at the sight of such a joyful smile. “I am glad that you enjoy it, Virgil.”

Before Virgil can respond, there’s a clattering noise from the hallway that leads down to the ocean. “Oh! Doc and your pod must be back from hunting already! I’ll go help him get your dad and Roman and all the fish back into this room. Will you be okay here on your own?”

“I think I will manage,” Logan says. “Oh, and, um, Virgil?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for everything. I truly appreciate it, from the bottom of my heart. It was thanks to you that I did not die on that beach when the net washed me ashore, and it was thanks to you that I was reunited with my pod again. I cannot thank you enough for all that you have done for me.”

Before Virgil can stop himself, he reaches out and gently touches the top of Logan’s head. His hair is slightly damp, and coarse from centuries of salt water exposure. Logan’s eyes blow wide, and his mouth drops open in a small “o” shape. “It’s no problem, Logan, really. I was happy to help.”

“Oh,” Logan manages, cheeks flushing scarlet.

Virgil flashes a quick smile at him before pulling his hand back like he’s been burned and all but sprinting down the hallway. He turns the corner so fast that he nearly slips and falls, bracing himself against the hard concrete wall.

“Hey there, Vee,” Thomas calls, tying a rowboat overflowing with freshly caught fish to the small dock. Roman twists up out of the water and flops “elegantly” onto the dock. Virgil can see a large, dark shape swirling around in the water that he assumes must be Patton.

“Hey, Doc. You guys get a good haul today?”

“So much,” Roman brags, bristling his spines and grinning. “Almost half of this was me!”

“That’s a lie and you know it, three-quarters of the work was Patton,” Thomas says. There’s a melodic shriek from the water, as though agreeing with Thomas, and Roman pouts. “Anyway, Vee, I figure we can take the mer into the lab first and then come back for the fish?”

“No, take the fish first,” Roman instructs.

“Bossy,” Virgil says, crossing his arms. “Why do we need to take the fish back first, anyway?”

“Because Dad and I both ate a little while we were out hunting, but Sharkbait hasn’t eaten anything all day. He must be starving,” Roman says, eyes suddenly serious. Despite his initial misgivings, Virgil can’t help but be touched by Roman’s concern for his younger brother. “Make sure he gets fed, and then you can bring Dad and I into the lab. He’ll be alright waiting to see us for a little while longer, but he needs to eat.”

“Yeah, that does make sense . . . I brought the cart because I assumed we’d be yeeting you into it, but we can throw your fish in instead.”

Roman tilts his head, looking like a lost puppy. “What is a ‘yeeting’? Is that a weird human word?”

Thomas laughs so hard that he nearly over-balances and falls off the dock. A large hand shoots up and braces itself against the small of Thomas’s back, pushing him back up onto the dock. He stumbles forward a little, throwing his arms out, and turns around to look at the water in shock. The arm extended has fingers tipped with sharp claws, but when Virgil frantically runs over to check on his mentor, he sees that his coat is barely scratched.

“Doc! Are you okay?!”

“I’m okay, Virgil, don’t worry. Patton caught me! Thank you, Patton!” Thomas calls. The arm waves a little before sinking back beneath the water. Virgil sighs, going back for the cart and wheeling it over.

“Let’s get this over with . . .”

It takes them almost ten whole minutes to load the majority of the catch into Virgil’s cart. They end up with about three-quarters in the cart before it’s full. “I guess we’re making a second trip?”

“Don’t bother,” Roman says, swishing his tail lazily. “Dad and I will eat what’s left here, and then when you come back we’ll go with you to the lab where Sharkbait is.”

“Are you really gonna be able to eat all this in the time that it takes us to take this cart to the lab and back?” Virgil asks. Roman grins, baring his own set of gleaming fangs. Unlike earlier with Logan, however, Virgil feels a shiver of fear run through him.

“Don’t doubt our appetites, Virgil. We’ll be done in no time.”

Virgil grips the handle of the cart tightly and leans his entire body weight into it. It takes him a few tries to get the heavily-laden thing going, but once he builds up a little momentum he’s able to struggle down the hallway. He hears Thomas talking to the other mer, but he focuses on getting back into the lab.

Logan looks up from his sketchpad, sniffing the air eagerly. “Food?”

“Yep!” Virgil grunts. “Your pod caught a whoooooole bunch of stuff, and it’s for you!” He finally gets the cart into position near the lab table, kicking at the brakes to engage them and lock the wheels. “Lemme take your sketchpad and stuff so that they don’t get messy while you eat.”

Logan appears vaguely offended at the idea of being a “messy eater,” but he gets over himself quickly when Virgil swaps his sketchpad and pencil for a fish. He eagerly sinks his teeth into the side, and Virgil quickly turns away. “I’ll be back!”

He puts the sketchbook and pencil down on a clean table and grabs another cart, wheeling it back to the little grotto. “Hey, Doc, how are we filling this thing with seawater? Do I have to go get the pump, too?”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Roman says, waving a hand dismissively. “Dad can do it. Hang on -”

He shoves his head under the water and says something in the mer language to Patton. Virgil jumps back in shock as a column of water rises up from the ocean, pouring neatly into the cart. As it nears the top, he frantically cuts in, “That’s good! That’s enough!” Roman sticks his head underwater again, and the column tapers off. “Thank you, Patton. I didn’t know you had that much control over the ocean. Do all mer have that?”

“Just Dad,” Roman says. “He’s an elder mer, so he’s been around forever. He’s got all kinds of weird fun tricks under his fins!” Virgil wonders if that’s the mer version of “having tricks up your sleeve.”

“Who’s going in the cart first, you or your dad?” Thomas asks. Roman opens his mouth to answer, but he’s cut off by a terrified scream echoing from the lab.

“Was that -”

“Sharkbait!” Roman bristles all of his spines at once, teeth baring, pupils shrinking to slits. “That was Logan, what did you do to him - ”

“Nothing! I left him on one of the tables eating fish, he was fine when I left! I promise!” Virgil says. Roman throws himself into the cart, tail swishing awkwardly until he finally shoves his head up above the water.

“Take me in there, now! I have to know what happened to him!”

“How are we going to get Patton in there if you’re in the cart?!”

“Good point . . . carry me!” Roman sticks his arms up, and if the situation wasn’t so dire Virgil would think it was funny that he was asking to be carried like a petulant child.

“Put your fucking spines down first, I’m not getting poisoned today!”

“I’m worried about Logan, this is as flat as I can get them!”

Logan screams again, and Roman’s spines bristle uncontrollably before he very visibly forces them to flatten a little. Virgil thanks his lucky stars that he’s wearing a particularly thick jacket today and hoists Roman into his arms.

“Go!” Thomas says. “I’ll get Patton!”

Virgil takes off down the hallway as fast as he dares to go while carrying a mer who’s dripping seawater all over the floor and also not the lightest thing in the world. He isn’t sure what he’s going to see when he makes it into the lab, but he’s steeling his nerves. He’ll be prepared for whatever it is. He’ll handle it, or the doc will handle it, and everything will be okay.

When he bursts into the lab, he nearly drops Roman in shock. “L - Logan?!”

“Sharkbait?!”

Logan looks at them in terror from the lab table, shifting around so they can very clearly see the very human legs that have completely replaced his long, elegant tail.

“What’s happening to me?!”

taglist below!

@bunny222 @phlying-squirrel @scorching-scotch @accio-hufflepuff-power1 @ironwoman359 @ab-artist @a-lexicon-of-words @samathekittycat @confinesofpersonalknowledge @backatthebein @princeanxious @serious-ppl-wear-neckties @ascreamingstrawberry @thekeytohappiness-is-you @smartestowlgirl @silverrhayn @221b-quote @generalfandomfabulousness @deverick-racoma @dkg-racoma @starryfirefliesbloggo @justanotherpurplebutterfly @minshinxx @hpjkfgw @pearls-of-patton @couch-potato-1890 @isdisorigionalenoughforyou @notveryglittery @imantisocialgetoverit @deamondisciple @purplepatton @iris-sanders-athena @magicalmayhems @fightingswedes @chaosgaminggirl @book-of-charlie @anuninspiredpoet @wicked-delights @bleaktuber @purpleshipper @c4t1l1n4 @illiani @maxiswriting @cutie-whore @magnificentme513 @no-life-no-problem @sockpansy @ocotopushugs @mauvelavender @hahanoiwont @ravenclawunicorn1 @terriblietired @nightmareelmst @bread-potato @drawyoursword @thebeautyofthomas @anxiousangelvirgil @greeneggsandham1998 @shesavampirequeen @phangirlandkilljoy @sortablue @allycat31415 @fangirltothefullest @ashrain5 @white-spirit-of-darkness @rejectedathena @hedgehoghumor @gay-and-exhausted @vir-gull @romanthroughthestars @savingshae @daughterofsomnus @unikornavenger @awesomelissawho @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @radioactivehelena @ethospathoslogan @anxietyisthebestme @pinkeasteregg @entpscarleharrrr @a-snoway-afternoon @it-is-i-music-note-anon @tera-91 @thisismedamit @indanegalaxy @so-many-ships-i-have-a-fleet @maybekatie @forsakethegodsbeforetheydoyou @areyousirius-noheisdead @curlycutiekinz @arandompasserby @youllnevertaketheskyfromme @shadowsoul357 @pandagirl0730 @bibbidi-bobbity-booyah @kittycake574 @uh-r00d @fall-chemically-atthedisco @wolfiegamer2007 @phander-trash @faithfulcat111 @fangsandrainbows @redundant-statements-for-400 @adka2333 @theresneverenoughfandoms @regen-cecilos @pinkpandapancakes @the-better-bard @a-little-bit-of-ace @bisexualellaphants @pokeeevee100 @light-it-on-fire @kaileah-kat @thatonetuesdaywhensam @savemefrompainfulagony @flamingfawkes @browniebri @romanssippycup @soft-transboy @somehowsnakesblog @lunareclipse-524 @wattysthebrokenangel @saphael-malec102 @rieka-onyx @booksgamesnetflix @dragonheart905 @starrynightaurora @dedaartist @pattons-cardigans @emilyinhernaturalhabitat @dontbugmeimantisocial @icantbeme71097 @derpiest-unicorn @sirasanders @tinkslittlebelle @joyful-milkshake-observation @redhoneysugarorange @lunacatzuniverse @itsausernamenotafobsong @virgilcrofters @cdragontogacotar @wildheart49 @welp-im-undertale-trash @randomrainbowslushy @logical-but-anxious @ebony-wolf @morality-is-anxious-too @angered-turtle @shadowjag @ihateitwhenyourejustvague @punsterterry @royallyroman @rainfilledskies @fandomsofrandom @trust-me-i-just-get-weirder @anxie-teaa @moonfang03 @didnt-murder-anyone-yet @hungry-red-panda @holdyourbreathfornow @forrestwyrm @thefluffypuppyishere @oh-star-how-the-mighty-fall @statsvitenskap @wit-is-wisdom @siren-art @anxietyisthebestme @randomfanderfriend @kittengiggles-puppysnuffles @a-saltine-in-trying-times @queer-human-being @thatpinkpony59 @i-have-n0-idea-what-im-d0ing @breloomings @noneed4thistbh @kikirwheeler @the-gayest-one-of-them-all @thegoofyseadragon @fantasyandfairfolk @trashysugarbaby @bassacaglia @justanormalfoot @alkimara @apologetically-anxious @punkassplonker @wicked-universe @maya-tl @magicalmayhems @lockolocka @whyme-tho @starbuckssippinson @imnotcrazy-i-swaer @jemthebookworm @witchybitchylesbean @blocksavage1776 @luckybanana948 @why-should-i-tell-youu @wouldthehill @pheasantjj @themainhome @cats-vetal-miking-vomit @merlybird500 @error-i-dunno-what-went-wrong @bangthekobrakid @absoluteturnip @dragonwitch20 @goofypersona @anyay666 @teethietoothies @smokeyrutilequartz @i-really-dig-the-purple @thinniewhinnie @cieltheanon @alotofstupidstuff @impossiblepentagon @sandersidestrash1 @suspicious-sweaters @asymmetricalgarbage8888 @lollife @insanegoldie2 @daring-elm @why-should-i-tell-youu2 @paperghastly @theunoriginaldaisy @emocatholic @the5thcoy @apologetically-anxious @radioactivehelena @llamaly @cloudedskies29 @riley-castillo @nonbinarybullshit @aleicim @asymmetricalgarbage8888 @analogical-mess @smolbeanchildofdeath @sherlock-lives-on-bakerstreet @opaque-puppet @shootingace @thegeekwiththewaffles @georganabanana @starry-sides @innerduet @siesieknows @eli--davey @croftersphoenix @theitalianalchemist @fanfictionforme2 @aimlesslyfloatingintheuniverse @random-fandom-dragon @that-random-book-nerd @wowimsogoddamnoriginal @sos-fandoms @eternalmoonlight19 @bluebellflames @pattonpending @humorlover1233 @unofficialweatherguru @demidork84 @munmattie @thegaypasta @youre-not-alive @bluebear04 @tacohippy56900 @enby-phoenix @wildhorsewolf @thomasfandersunite2 @ninja-wizard101 @immortal-turtle @sunflowerss0 @trash-ratatoiulle @yty-is-a-gfeat @mining-pup @cataclysm-al @lesbianturtle @singularthoughtofstatic @ninja-wizard101 @k9cat @dall-off-weekes @mylovelyladdyhumps @omg-rainbowgalxy-things @opaque-puppet @agentblackkat @morgantoast @rainysharkfreaklover @tapdancingdalek @brutarax808 @masonjarfullofsunflowers @lovelylogans @thatcacidork @antisocialdragonkid @nic-is-here @thiaholimon @whatschooldoesntteachyou @dysfunctional-goblin @lostchoirchild @acompletemusicalnerd @monroig @coliebugs @aro-ace-fangirl @lord-of-the-wicked @sanderstalker @bootsinthesun @anonfromcanada @7-circles-of-dissonance @wowimsogoddamnoriginal @psychixx @alittlebitofeveryoneandthing @toostressedforthisbs @an-absolute-failure @faycanyons @meglooy @skruffy901 @drawingdaydreamsuniverse @rosiepupper @winterrs-child @godspeed31-26 @mariita-2006 @meglooy @matthindavick @dragonindigo245 @lovingcreatorstrawberry @dreamingintodust @soakinforsif @theloneliestplaytapus

#starshinewrites #lovely dark and deep #sanders sides #romantic analogical #platonic TLAMP

477 notes · View notes

vannahfanfics · 4 years

Note

May I request A current in-character canon-compliant, soft, angsty, romantic soowon x yona endgame fic please 🙏 thank you very much!!

Hello, dear! Very sorry it took a while to get this request to you; I’ve had a lot going on with the semester and my 200-follower event and such. However, at long last, here it is! ^.^ Enjoy!

Mad World

The wooden floor of her palace room groaned and moaned with her feverish footfalls as Yona paced back and forth, back and forth, back and back and forth and forth and back again. That was all Yona could do, was pace and think and think while pacing and pace while thinking. Back and forth, think think think, riddle on what the hell she was supposed to do basically imprisoned in her bedroom like this. No dragons, no Yoon, no Hak, just Yona. Yona, alone and pacing and thinking.

It was maddening.

With a sudden, deranged screech of lunacy, she whirled on her heel to tear into the curtains framing the large window overlooking the palace courtyard. Her fingernails ripped into the silken fabric, reaming into the threads and pulling them asunder as she yanked on the curtain with all her might. Little, angry screeches spilled from her mouth while she tugged and tugged, rattling the curtain rod mounted into the stone wall. The linear metal piece desperately tried to cling to the rough surface, but with Yona’s continuous and manic assault, dust began to rain down as the brackets began to wrench loose. Yona wasn’t sure why the poor curtain was the object of her ire, but nevertheless she tore into it like a mangy feral cat, dropping shreds of torn fabric around her slippered feet. Very soon the screws could bear no more and jumped from the wall; the heavy, decorative metal ball welded to the main body made the rod’s plummet all the hastier. Yona jumped violently as it collided into the wooden floor with a massive thunk! and the curtain slipped from her hands to puddle like white milk at her feet. She stared dully at the half-destroyed, dismounted curtains with burning red eyes. It was not satisfying at all; her fingers still itched to maim, to tear into everything in this room and leave it a maelstrom of silk and cotton and splinters.

“Princess! Are you all right?” Of course the noise would attract whoever happened to be nearby. Yona hadn’t much cared of the consequences of her actions at the moment; she was boiling with boredom and anxiety and frustration, and desperately needed an outlet. Normal people might cry, but Yona had elected that tears wouldn’t do. She was beyond tears now, or so she told herself. But…

Why did it have to be Soo-Won?

The young king stared with wide eyes at the curtain rod hanging at a diagonal angle from the wall, the one set of brackets struggling to support its weight, and the tatters of silk curtain surrounding the hem of Yona’s pink kimono. Her eyes were lidded and cold as she just watched him gawk. This was all his fault, really. Sure, Yona had decided to entire an alliance and come to the palace, but if Soo-Won hadn’t set off the chain of events that resulted in that alliance, this wouldn’t be happening.

Yona immediately regretted the thought. She knew better now. If none of this had happened, her people would still be struggling and Yona would be living in blissful ignorance. Sometimes, however, she just couldn’t help but crave that ignorance… Especially when the lingering flames of her love for Soo-Won decided to rear their ugly heads.

Yona’s mouth curled in on itself as her heart lurched in her chest just at the sight of him. It was maddening, the way her desire to dig her fingernails into his cheek mixed with her longing to softly caress it, the way her desire to rip every one of those flax-golden hairs out of his head mixed with her longing to run her hands through him, the way her desire to scream and yell and curse him in a thousand tongues mixed with her longing to throw herself at him and sob and beg and surrender. Maddening, yes it was. It was driving Yona to near insanity, and as she stood there, she was wide-eyed and teetering on an abyss from which there was no return.

“Yona.” His voice was soft and full of concern as he uttered her name. His eyes, still huge with the sight of Yona’s shredded prey, finally flickered up to meet her own fiery ones like dawn. To his credit, he did not flinch away at the inferno there; he just stared, measuring, waiting for her response. “Are you… displeased?” he said finally when she refused to respond. Really, Yona was still so embroiled with her own feelings that she couldn’t formulate a response. His question returned some sense of normalcy to her mind. The fire died in her eyes, cooled by the sheer incredulity at his question.

“‘Displeased,’” she echoed. Slowly, like water trickling from within rocks piled high, her wits returned to her. Her head dropped to do as Soo-Won had, stare numbly at the carnage she had wrought on the poor, innocent drapery. Her hands began to sting terribly with the weight of the own violence she had wrought, as if they were coated in hot, sticky, burning blood and insides. They were just curtains; it wasn’t like she had killed someone. Still, Yona’s stomach flopped about with the unsettling possibility that if someone had stumbled upon her in her mania, she might very well have unleashed on them like a woman possessed. It made the bitter acid of shame flood her tongue. Yona had never been so violent before. Sure, she had done violent things, but always with good reason. This was wanton destruction, and the fact that it was borne of her own hands rattled her to her core.

Well, it wasn’t entirely without reason, she rationalized. “Displeased,” she repeated in a hoarse voice. “Displeased” didn’t even scratch the surface of what she was feeling right now. She didn’t have a word for what she was feeling right now. Silent, teeth clenched, she just stared at the mangled curtains and lamented her own sorry state of being. How had it come to this? Cool, calm, collected, and strong to manic, deranged and mad?

“Yona.” His voice called her with maddening power. Of its own accord, Yona’s head rose to obediently meet his beckoning gaze. She hadn’t heard his footsteps, but he had closed the distance and was standing in front of her. She compulsively swallowed. His eyes were the one burning now, pulsing with a soft yet furious heat that made her tremble. It wasn’t anger, or disappointment, or disdain; it was something else entirely, and it both frightened and excited her. He tilted his head to the side slightly as he smiled that gentle reassuring smile that she missed so dearly but wanted to slap off his face. “Tell me what happened.”

She wanted to lie. She did not want to admit that she had just had a psychotic fit and wrenched the curtain rod off the wall and destroyed the curtains like some kind of beast. Yona, however, felt the pitiful attempts at falsehoods dissolving on her tongue under Soo-Won’s gentle yet critical stare. There was no point in lying and he knew well enough what she had just done. “This alliance isn’t working out the way you wanted it to, is it?” he asked her with a degree of amusement in his voice that made her skin itch with fury.

“No. No, it is not, Soo-Won.” The steel in her voice was sharper than the finest-crafted blade. At the iron on her tongue, the king exhaled deeply and his body sagged sadly. The reaction disquieted her; was he acting for her benefit or truly displeased that she was going crazy cordoned off in this bedroom? His eyes shut for a second, and when they opened, Yona felt electric shocks pulse over every single one of her nerves. The way he was staring at her, apologetic and guilty, was a look she had imagined every day since she witnessed him drawing a bloody sword from her father’s limp body.

It was not satisfying, not at all. Somehow, she wanted more. The madness began to scratch and howl in her ringing skull again.

“How dare you. How dare you look all sad and guilty when I’m stuck here with nothing to do but pace and think and fret all day!” she screamed at him suddenly. She lunged at him, fingers clawing into his kingly robes like they had done the curtains, but rather than shredding them, she only clutched onto them with an iron grip. Her red eyes burned as they bore into his, as if a glare alone could make his combust. “How dare you. You want to know what happened? I am losing my mind! I can’t take it anymore!” A dam erupted inside of her, releasing long-held feelings and tears. They were like rivers of ice and fire as they flooded down her cheeks, and her voice cracked as she hissed again, “I can’t take it anymore. I don’t know what is up and what is down. My mind is reeling. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t know what you’re doing, and the one single comfort I could be afforded while I’m all but your prisoner in here is barred from me!” Her head dropped, chin banging against her chest. Her quivering hands held onto his clothes like the were the lifeline preventing her from being washed out to sea. She hated herself right now, admitted all this to him. But if she didn’t release it to anyone, even if it has to be Soo-Won, she really was going to go insane. What was her country? What was her fate? What was Soo-Won’s plan and how should she respond? These questions plagued her, maddeningly so.

With the weight of her on psyche mounting on her frail body, her knees finally buckled. Soo-Won reflexively caught her under her elbows as her legs folded in on themselves. Sobbing and groaning, she just cried pathetically while he held her up. “And you know… you know what the worst part is?” she choked out between sobs. “I hate you, but I love you. I despise you for what you did but I love you still. I thought I had grown so much, but I came back here, and it all has come crashing down upon me. I’m still that naïve, foolish little girl who wasn’t worth killing.”

“Yona!” She did not expect such harsh bite from his voice. It made her head snap up to look at him with wide and watery eyes. His lips were drawn into a taut line and his eyes were their fieriest yet. “I did not let you go because you were ‘not worth killing.’”

“Then why?” she demanded in an agonized cry. Her fingers dug further into his clothes, probably bruising the skin underneath. “Why, Soo-Won, I don’t under-”

The rest of her words came out as a surprised squeak muffled by his lips crashing into hers. It was not at all kingly, the way he kissed it her; it was passionate, carnal, desperate and mad. If Yona’s legs had been able to support her then, her kneecaps would’ve been obliterated to dust the instant their mouths smashed together. Her eyes fluttered shut with a low, needy whine; as if responding, Soo-Won’s tongue pushed into her mouth and tangled feverishly with her own. She didn’t object. She got drunk off him like she was partaking in the finest wine in the world, her tongue savoring every little bit of his essence. She could vaguely feel his fingers in her dawn-colored hair, caressing and twisting, but most of her senses were dominated by the explosion of feeling fireworking over her body. Oh, oh, how she had wanted this, and how much she hated herself for it.

She lamented the loss of his warmth and touch as he pulled away, and despite herself, her lips involuntarily chased him. She wanted to spend forever in that kiss. In that hazy fog, she didn’t have to think about the circumstances or how wrong it was; she just had to think about him, her mouth on hers and his hands on her body. It was simple. Easy. Uncomplicated. He permitted her pursuit for a moment, giving her another softer kiss with more feeling, but pulled back again after a few seconds. He said her name and it pulled her out of the fog, back to her confusing and complicated and maddening reality.

“Does that answer your question?” His voice was breathy and laced with a fair bit of irritation. Maybe with himself, maybe with Yona- maybe both. She swallowed and licked her lips, mouth suddenly drying up. Was she supposed to be satisfied with that? A kiss that seals the deal and makes everything all right? The trouble was that she was one hundred percent satisfied with that.

She stepped away from him, trying to hide the tremor in her still-recuperating jellified legs. She felt that her hands needed to be doing something so she smoothed out nonexistent creases in her kimono. Her brain whirled desperately trying to make sense of everything, but nothing made sense anymore. That was her problem to begin with. “I’ll take that as a ‘no.’” He sounded amused, like he had expected it.

“What do you expect?” she huffed. The fight was dying from her voice and spirit, replaced with indescribable weariness. She was so tired. She was so tired of fighting whatever this fight was, but that was the only thing Yona could think to do was fight. Surrender simply was not in the meek, naïve, ignorant princess’ blood, apparently. Her hands continued to fix her perfectly fine kimono while she refused to look at him. “I just… I can’t…” God, she couldn’t even explain herself. This is not how she wanted to look in front of him, flustered and stupid. It was like her previous self had been taken captive and replaced with a bungling imposter, and she was trying so desperately to get it back with little luck. Her hand began stringing through her hair, which was crimping uncomfortably with sweat. All the while, Soo-Won watched her, thankfully without pity. “I hate you,” she grumbled finally, because it was the only thing that sort of made sense.

“I know.” Oh, hell, no, he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t get that sad look on his face and think that it made it all okay. But it did. In Yona’s stupid, manic, mad mind, it made it okay. Defeated, she kicked the curtain rod aside and sank down on the cushioned seat that sat below the windowsill.

“I love you,” she simpered as she put her flushing face in her hands. She didn’t have to look at him to know he had that other look on his face, that soft, gentle smile that made her heart sing and wail simultaneously. That smile that carried a hint of sadness that never faded.

“I know that, too.” A period of silence settled between them. She peered through her fingers to see his own twitching, like he was trying to figure out how to comfort her but arriving at no conclusions. She couldn’t blame him. She didn’t know what to do with herself, either. As she sat there, the moonlight cool on her back as it flood through the unshielded window behind her, Yona finally began to feel a sense of normalcy returning to her. She partitioned off the confusing kiss and focused instead on her situation and what she ought to do about it, and was beginning to feel that clear-headed determination return to her. I just have to keep fighting. That is all I can do. I will resist as long as I have to and find out what Soo-Won wants…

She felt the cushioning dip beside her and heard the slight ringing of the metal as it rolled over the wooden floor when Soo-Won seated himself beside her. “I wish things were simple.”

“You’re the one who made it complicated.” She kept her face buried in her hands because she didn’t know what would happen if she looked at him.

“I suppose that’s true.” His laugh was hollow and mirthless. “I wish I could explain it all to you. I really do. But if I did, I didn’t know if you would believe me.”

“Can’t fault you for that.” Another hollow, joyless laugh that rang through the quiet bedroom, followed by a slight sigh. “I’m not giving up, you know. Don’t think this changes things. I just needed to get it out of my system.”

“No, I expect you won’t.” She finally lifted her head to look up at him, finding him smiling as he looked at her out of his peripheral vision. “You wouldn’t be the girl I loved if that happened.”

Surprisingly, her body garnered no reaction from that bombshell of a statement. It felt more like she had known it all along and she was vindicated now. It made a funny taste tingle on her tongue, one she couldn’t quite place; possibly a mixture of things. He smiled more as he pushed himself up from the seat and began heading for the door. “I’ll send someone to fix that in the morning,” he said with a lazy gesture to the destroyed curtains. Yona watched him go with confliction and a heavy heart.

“Yeah. Sure.” Once the frame of the sliding door clacked against the threshold, she exhaled loudly and flopped onto her side; the cushion embraced her, sinking her down into its fluffy softness. With the adrenaline no longer pumping in her system, her muscles now felt the strain of torturing the curtains. Dully, she stared down at its wispy corpse spread out over the wood floor.

The Celestial Dragons. The usurper King Soo-Won. The displaced princess. The Thunder Beast. The unknown battle for the world as they knew it.

Maddening, it all was to Yona. Somehow, though, the one thing that should be the most maddening was no longer maddening at all. She smiled thinly to herself and rolled onto her back, the moonlight washing over her like enclosing her in a blanket.

You drive me mad, Soo-Won… But still, I love you so.

Enjoy this story? Here’s Part II! Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#yonawon #soowon x yona #soowonxyona #yona x soowon #yonaxsoowon #yona x soo-won #soo-won x yona #yonaxsoo-won #soo-wonxyona #yona of the dawn #yotd #akatsuki no yona #yotd yona #yotd soo-won #yotd soowon #yotd fanfiction #yotd fanfic #akayona #sooyona

5 notes · View notes

chrysaliseuro2019 · 5 years

Text

Cliffhanger

Dimitsana has been a wonderful base to explore from and it would be so picturesque in winter when the snow season sets in up in them there hills. Mind you you’d want to have a mighty fine travel insurance policy because its worn marble steps are lethally slippery when dry let alone with snow and ice to add to their treachery.

Our accommodation was truly fabulous with the most gloriously comfy wide bed, luxurious pillows of varying structure (good for we of the dodgy neck brigade) complete with a fireplace for those colder months and a spacious and modern bathroom - don’t get to say that too often in Europe. On top of that the room had a number of books and masses of DVDs of good taste. No Rambo or Diehard here instead quality such as The Lives of Others etc. Clearly our host Dimitri was of sophisticated taste, and judging by the breakfasts his wife prepared, so was she.

Dimitri insisted the Outdoor Water Museum was a must visit before we left the area so that was our next stop. Staff almost outnumbered visitors as there were three of them and in the 1.5 hours we were there only one other couple arrived. Don’t think I’m being too harsh in saying that they could have cut the staff by 2/3rds and still have managed the ticket box (4 tickets in 1.5 hours) and turning on the switches of two machines without being over-taxed. Will be checking Seek for a job like this when I get back home.

We thought the displays were well laid out and enjoyed learning that millers made a living by milling customers grains and rather than charging a fee took a percentage of the milled grain. Too bad if you’re celiac, but I guess corn was an alternative. The tannery was definitely the worst of the jobs. The tanner’s hands must have been tough as old boots to deal with processes including salting, stripping, soaking the pelts in wood chips, and Chris’ least favourite, dunking the pelts in a blend of dog shit and water. Can only, and quite frankly, don’t want to imagine the smell. When we visited the still-alive-and-well tanneries of Fez several years ago we were told they used pigeon droppings. If I were a Greek tanner I’d have invested in a dovecote.

The final exhibit was the gunpowder exhibit. Dimitsana was one of the villages that knew how to collect saltpetre, a vital component gunpowder and they made gunpowder from the Greek War of Independence (1820’s-30’s) until early 20th century. Water was used to power the machines that mixed all the ingredients of gunpowder into a powder - OH&S was a bit of an issue because the powder if not treated correctly during processing had the tendency to to what it was intended to do....blow up.

The museum should be applauded for the effort that had gone into making it accessible for tourists. Not only did it supply a detailed brochure with map in the €4 entrance fee, there was a huge amount of written detail around the displays and, in case that wasn’t enough, 3 lengthy videos describing how water was used in milling, tanning and making gunpowder. No other Greek Museum has had so much information including the big ticket items like Olympia and the Acropolis. Well done little provincial Outdoor Water Museum of Dimitsana.

Still high amongst the mountains we made our way to our next destination around the challenging roads. Challenging not only because they were narrow and winding but the surface could switch from brand new to rutted and potholed in an instant. And to top it all off a steep drop down into the valley without barriers on one side and a sheer cliff face that occasionally shed its rocks across the road on the other. (I think we both occasionally let our minds drift to the possibility of being squashed or plummeting.) Apart from that it was a doddle! Chris did very well negotiating the hazards although a couple of times did go a little too close to the edge where I could peer over into the abyss as I gripped white-knuckled onto the door...Penny if you’re reading this you’ll get my drift.

On the winding drive down to the monastery car park we passed an isolated tower with Greek music playing and a solitary car parked beside it. We could only surmise it was the manned fire lookout. A little incongruously the lookout was a wooden construction and there appeared to be no Wifi according to our phones. We wondered what would happen if there was a bushfire. Does the warden hotfoot it from his out-of-range combustible tower to the local town to send the alarm? Meanwhile as he minds his post it would be a hot lonely job as there also appeared to be no air conditioning. Suggest Fire warden consider a career change to a much cushier position at the Water Museum.

Stopped at the car park to visit the Prodromou Monastery reportedly a 20 minute walk away. By now it was 12.40pm and we had just spotted the bane of the tourist’s life - a sign saying’ ‘Closed between 1pm -3pm’. A Dutch couple pulled up so discussed the inconvenience of this and set off at fast pace, well as fast as old knees going down rocky and shale paths and steps will allow. Fortunately the walk was only roughly 10 minutes through a verdant forest so got there in time being totally awestruck by the monastery. How this Monastery of St John the Baptist was constructed into a sheer cliff face is mind blowing. The original site dates back to 16th century and was used as a hospital during the Greek War of Independence and was rebuilt in 1976 over the remains of an old hermitage. Surrounding the monastery are large forested mountains and down below is the Lousios Gorge with the Lousios River flowing through it. It’s truly a picturesque scene.

Having donned our modesty wraps to hide our shorts we were allowed to enter the monastery. Up the stairs into a small vestibule chapel carved into the rock with the bare rock face exposed. A kitchen and a sitting room were off this vestibule and that was the complete floor. Up some steps to the chapel proper, a small dark room with paintings on the rock walls, about 10 seats lining the walls and a little altar. Then further steps up to the balcony off which were the monks’ rooms. One door was open showing just how spartan a monk’s life can be. The room contained 6 basic beds, no feathertop mattresses here, each with a bundle of basic blankets folded at the foot. Absent were bedside tables and lamps, chairs, desks, wardrobes or any form of creature comfort beyond a bed. Even more basic than some of our dodgy holiday hotels.

The verandah was an old creaky affair that ran the length of the monastery suspended out from the rocks and supported by a rustic wooden structure beneath. We felt it prudent to tread lightly! The only ornamental relief there were some church bells, a wooden gong and mallet which by the look of the gong were there for function not appearance and three further oblong metal gongs of graduated sizes.

Back down to the vestibule level where the priest made visitors (and there were only 6 of us during the time we were there) coffee and provided biscuits, water, and most incongruously, Turkish Delight.

After about half an hour, so 20 minutes into “closed time” we headed off, grateful for the priest’s kindness and leniency.

Huffed and puffed our way back up through the forest path, took some more photos of the lovely surrounds. Had also heard of a town nearby worth looking at so went in search. Followed yet more bendy roads (warning: motion sickness sufferers do not come)to a small but full carpark. Many minutes passed faffing about where to park along the road, ‘Here?’ ‘Yes that’ll do, other cars can pass.’ Then ‘No, think we’ll park there.’ ‘OK then.’ ‘No maybe not. Let me just go there’ followed by a reversal without taking the bend of the road and getting eye bulgingly close a small dip off the road that the little Micra would have trouble getting back up again (nothing to do with the navigator this time). Stopped in the nick of time which coincided with a minivan on tour studying Ancient Greek about to head off from the carpark. Chris waited for the stragglers to pile back in the bus and meanwhile the tour leader advised the town not worth a visit. We took him at his word. Instead went down to the fast flowing Lousios river where a few people were picnicking for the day. Would have been a beautiful place for rafting and swimming but getting the bathers out for a 10 minute swim for one (me) too much fuss. Instead filled my water bottle with fresh cool water and we headed off towards Mystras.

Stopped off for lunch of yet another Greek Salad -perfect lunch fare - under a terrace in a pretty stone village then 1.5 hours more of mountain roads which eventually flattened out a bit to olive tree and orange tree country

I’d had a Mystras accommodation suggestion from Teresa the lady I’d fortuitously met in Melbourne who runs Peloponnese tours. As we approached Mystras we passed it and luckily it had a vacancy. Quirky and large room with magnificent view over the valley and to the mountains beyond. Dinner was at a restaurant Chris had seen recommend in Lonely Planet. 250 metres up a steep hill and rewarded by a seat on the terrace overlooking the mountains and the ruins of Mystras not far away. Dinner was ok, not quite as fabulous as its reviews intimated. Also hindered by no vodka and tonic, rosé that was like engine oil, my first menu preference not available and lots of dishes with creamy sauce that Chris can’t handle. Still the setting was first class and we didn’t go home hungry.

As usual when time came to settle, mine host requested cash declaring his card machine wasn’t working today. I can bet my bottom Euro it wasn’t working yesterday and it won’t be working tomorrow either. This ruse was delivered in hushed tones to each table but it’s the way of things nearly everywhere in Greece. So then we played a game of bluff. I said I wasn’t sure we had enough cash so he double-bluffed me saying we could leave without paying and transfer the cash to his account later. Would like to have taken him up on this to see if he would seriously let two strangers leave on an eat-now-pay-later basis. I think the machine might have sprung into action if all diners took this stance. But I miraculously ‘found’ a €50 note and paid. After all it’s endemic through Greece and one tourist’s obstinate moral stance will change nothing.

2 notes · View notes

belgrade25 · 6 years

Text

The Swamp Map Ch.1

Foxxay: The two witches find themselves lost in the swamp they were supposed to know well.

---

“I think it’s this way.” Misty looked up from a map and pointed to her right. Her feet didn’t move, however. She instead turned around to seek approval from her companion.

Cordelia came to stand next to her, a little out of breath. “Are you sure? You said the same thing twenty minutes ago, and I feel like we’re only going deeper.”

She looked back. The tall grass and sloshy ground of the swamp concealed their footsteps, keeping them from going back. There was no way of calling for help. Her smartphone had turned into a non-smart, non-phone machine when they stepped into the swamp. The pedometer indicated that she had already achieved her daily activity goals, giving her celebratory and inspirational words. Push the limits! Go farther! She’d really rather not.

The phone beeped, and she turned the sound off without looking.

“I thought the phone didn’t work?” Misty said with a hint of hope.

Cordelia shook her head. “It’s just the alarm for the lunch meeting. Well, at this rate, I’m standing the Mayor up.”

It had started when Misty insisted on stopping by the shack on their drive home from grocery shopping. It was going to be a short stop. They would’ve had plenty of time before the Supreme had to leave the academy for the meeting.

The fault was on Cordelia’s part. She didn’t want to make a detour to their usual path to the shack, which was far from where they were driving. There didn’t seem to be enough time for that. So, they had entered the swamp from an unfamiliar spot.

What a terrible lack of foresight that had been. Haste makes waste. Or, as Myrtle liked to put, premature orgasming pleases none.

“I’m sorry.” Misty ducked her head. “It’s all because I dragged you out here, Miss Cordelia.”

Cordelia put her comforting hand on her shoulder. “Let’s focus on finding our way for now, okay?”

But there seemed no path --not even an animal trail-- to be found around them. The thick clouds hid the sun, and it was impossible for them to even get a sense of direction.

“Oh, I know!” Misty said. “We could use teleportation. Go to the shack, and you could even make it to the meeting in time.”

“It wouldn’t work. To use teleportation, it’s crucial to know one’s location in relation to where you wish to go. Witchcraft 101, Misty.”

“I may or may not have skipped that class.”

“It’s also in the textbook.”

“Never opened it before.”

“Misty--”

“Hey, so, can we teleport back to the car, then?” Misty sounded extra cheerful, dodging further lecturing. “We know where we parked the car.”

“But we don’t know where we are. So, no.”

Misty sighed and buried her nose back in the map. “What if we have walked through a portal to another dimension without knowing? Maybe that’s why everything looks strange.”

“Well, that would be a nice excuse to tell the Mayor, at least,” Cordelia said. She knew that when Misty began talking nonsense like this, she was either hungry or sleepy. Considering the time, it was most likely the hunger.

Misty nodded and hummed, lost in thought. Then, she made up her mind and started walking. Cordelia tried her hardest to walk on the less muddy part of the ground as she followed.

“What do you think lives in other dimensions, Miss Cordelia?”

Cordelia shrugged, only taking a side-glance at her. “I don’t know. It has never occurred to me.”

“Do you believe in aliens?”

“The universe is immeasurable. The size and the age. It’d be ignorant to assume we are the only living organism.”

“I think they are already here on Earth,” Misty said. “But they are so common that we don’t realize they’ve come from other planets.”

“Is that right?”

Misty noddeed with a proud grin. “The octopus. They’re so intelligent, Miss Cordelia. And, they may not use spoken words like us, but they can communicate through their skin color. Humans can’t do that. And the dragonfly-- Did you know these suckers have zero blind spot?”

Despite their situation, Cordelia couldn’t help her smile. “Someone has been binge watching nature documentaries.”

“I swear, I never thought I’d like that tiny computer. I always get the heebie-jeebies around all those machines.” She shrugged. “But it’s nice, getting to learn about the animals I’ve never known before.”

“I’m glad,” Cordelia said. “Perhaps I should give you a VR set for your next birthday so you could go to the safari or the Papua New Guinea jungles.”

“What’s VR mean?”

“Virtual reality. You wear a headset like giant goggles and immerse yourself in the digital world-”

The moment Misty heard the word digital, her curious eyes clouded with doubt mixed with slight disgust. “That means they are fake, though. Nature can’t be controlled. It’s fun because it can only be observed. That's where happy accidents come from.”

“Oh, like getting lost?”

Misty gave her a guilty glance, which made her laugh.

“I agree with you, Misty. But this better be over soon.” Cordelia looked up at the grey sky through the naked branches. “The forecast said it would rain around noon.”

Although this uncalled-for exercise was keeping them warm for now, the air was crisp. It would be freezing in the rain.

Misty wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “The girls must be chilling in front of the fireplace now, with hot cocoa . . . and s’mores . . . Hollywood is maybe taking a warm, candlelit bath.”

This made both of them shiver even more.

As they kept walking, they stumbled upon what looked to be a huhman trail. Misty opened the map again. Cordelia, on the other hand, looked at the trail in suspicion.

“Misty, I think we are going in circles.”

“What are you talking about? We’ve been walking in a straight line.”

“But, look--” Cordelia neared the biggest tree in their vicinity and pointed at the small pile of stones at the root. “I put them up in place of footprints.”

Misty’s hesitant gaze travelled back and forth between the stones and the map. “How’d you know it’s your doing, though? Maybe some people got lost before us and did that.”

“With my magical signature in it?” Cordelia picked up the stone at the top, pushing it into Misty’s palm.

The doubt on Misty’s face vanished in an instant. The trace of the Supreme power was too evident to ignore.

“Right?” Cordelia said.

With tight lips, Misty sighed through the nose. “Alright, Miss Gretel. You’re right. We’ve been going in circles.”

“Hansel. It's the brother who leaves a trail of breadcrumbs. Not the sister.”

Misty’s sigh turned into a groan. She sat on the protruding root, folding up the map in surrender. “I wish I had a bagel right now.”

They had bought blueberry bagels at the supermarket along with her favorite sesame ones. But everything was left in the car.

“Why isn’t there a spell for conjuring food up?” Misty said.

“Witchcraft doesn’t work miracles, as regular people think. It has to abide by the law of the universe like everything else. You can’t create something out of nothing.”

“We make fire out of nothing.”

Cordelia smiled. “Not exactly. There are certain molecules in the air that produce heat. Magic just helps you collect those molecules, pack them so dense that they start to combust.”

“I understood none of that.” Her stomach grumbled as if in agreement. “Are there molecules that could produce food?”

“No.” Cordelia sat next to her on the root. Her hand reached for the folded map in Misty’s hands. “May I?”

Misty obliged to the request without a word, too tired and hopeless. It pained Cordelia to see her like that. It was way better when Misty was rambling on all gibberish.

Cordelia ran her hand up and down her shawl-clad back. “It’ll be alright, Mist. I promise. Now, can you tell me where we might be?”

It goes without saying that the swamp map didn’t compare to the sophistication of the city map. It only had a few markings here and there. But it still showed the circumventing highways and the bodies of water spread across the place. Until now, it was more than enough.

Near the center of the map was a cross mark.

Misty’s index finger hovered over the area between the cross and the south-east edge of the swamp. “Around here, I think. The car is parked somewhere here, because this is the road we were driving on, and--”

“Wait, no.” Cordelia’s index finger joined over the map. Her eyes scrutinized it as if it was a Latin spell book. “No, Misty. This is our highway”--She pointed at the one almost on the opposite side of the map--“We were supposed to go east. But we’ve been . . . going west.”

Misty held the map closer to her face, turned it upside-down, and looked at Cordelia with deer-in-the-headlights eyes.

“Misty.”

“Hmm?”

“Have you been reading the map upside-down this whole time?”

In grave silence, Misty gave a slow, thoughtful nod. “It appears that it is the case.”

It was Cordelia's turn to let out a groan.

“I’m sorry, Miss Cordelia.” Misty took her hands and blinked her puppy eyes. “Please, don’t be mad at me.”

Cordelia swore Misty knew that look could get her away with anything, at least, as long as the Supreme was concerned.

“I’m not mad, Misty. Everyone makes mistakes sometimes.” She gave gentle pats on the back of Misty’s hand before returning her attention to the map. “Okay, so, the river we walked by earlier is not this one, but more likely this one. If we follow the water, we may be able to get out.”

But the look on Misty’s face betrayed her apprehension. “What if-- Not that I doubt you, but what if the water led us deeper instead of out? How’d we know if we should go upstream or downstream?”

“Shit, you have a point.” That was a possibility that Cordelia didn't like to dwell on. “But you know what? Either way, the swamp would end if we kept walking.”

Misty’s stomach grumbled again as her expression turned into that of despair. “I should’ve had an extra begel this morning,” she said, standing on her weakening feet.

Cordelia wrapped her arm around her waist in support. “You can have as many bagels as you want when we get home. I won’t stop you.”

#next chapter coming sooon #foxxay #Cordelia Goode #misty day

20 notes · View notes

twilights-800-cats · 6 years

Text

<< Allegiances | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | From the Beginning >>

Chapter 17

Silence lay over the clearing in the shadow of the Bonehill. Warriors stood, stunned, gaping down at Brambleclaw’s dusty, tattered, defeated body. A wail of grief – Mosspelt, Tinystar thought – was cut off harshly. Even the once-ShadowClan cats looked appalled.

Bluestar stood atop the Bonehill, her shoulders hunched. She glared down at Brambleclaw’s body with such a fury that Tinystar thought it would combust on the spot. Leopardstar stood beside her and yet the spotted leader looked like a kit in comparison to Bluestar’s seething form.

And then… Bluestar relaxed. She straightened her spine and held her chin up high, looking down at her Clan with the same cool, cold expression she had always worn.

“It is finished,” she stated. “This root of treachery within our Clan… has been removed.”

The Clan did not stir beneath her. A bone rattled to the bottom of the pile as Leopardstar shifted her paws.

Tinystar trembled, staring dumbstruck at Brambleclaw’s body. He had been a noble cat, for what Tinystar knew. His body lying there looked too much like the sodden, broken body of his father, Tigerstar. What would Tawnypelt do when she found out about her brother’s murder? What could she do? Was she even alive herself?

“Bluestar,” Darkstripe’s voice cut through the silence. His striped tail flicked over to Stormpaw and Featherpaw, cowering beside Brambleclaw’s corpse. Their paws were soaked in blood. “A-Allow me to take care of them.”

Graystripe surged underneath Ravenpaw, but the black tom kept him pinned. Tinystar edged over to his friend’s side, pressing against him. He could feel Graystripe’s heart beating in raw panic.

Bluestar, atop the Bonehill, shook her head. “They have seen the price of defiance paid,” she decided. Her eyes rested upon Darkstripe. Tinystar could see the stab of disappointment in them – how they said you couldn’t kill them if you tried.

Darkstripe seemed to see it, too – he hunched his shoulders and looked down at his paws, as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

“Take them away,” Bluestar ordered. “With this display, perhaps they and the other prisoners will see the error of choosing blood over Clan.”

Unceremoniously, that seemed to be the end. Bluestar leaped off of the Bonehill and called Darkstripe, Russetfur, and Blackfoot to her with a flick of her tail before pushing through the crowd without a word. Two larger warriors picked up Stormpaw and Featherpaw by the scruff and all but dragged their sorrowful selves away from the scene. There was no protest from either.

The cats surrounding the Bonehill began to disperse, getting to their paws in a stunned silence. Tinystar watched them, searching their faces for any who would speak out – any who would even hint at defying Bluestar and the monsterous thing she had done. None of them looked outright at Brambleclaw’s body, left without a care.

Slowly, though, Tinystar and his companions could see some cats coming forward. Bigger cats, with sleek, shiny pelts and large, wide paws. RiverClan cats.

They gathered around Brambleclaw, their pelts pressed together. There were only a scant few – too many had joined LionClan, too many were with Bluestar now. Tinystar hardly recognized the RiverClan faces but he did know the grief that was plastered on them.

Leopardstar came last of all. The RiverClan warriors parted for her, their expression uncertain as they laid eyes on their leader, who had allowed this to happen. Tinystar watched Leopardstar fall to her haunches in the mud and press her muzzle against her deputy’s bloodied flank. Her eyes stared into the distance, and for the first time in a long time, Tinystar felt sympathy for her.

She knows what mistake she’s made now, Tinystar decided. She knows… and she knows there’s no way out now.

Tinystar, Graystripe, and Ravenpaw huddled together until the RiverClan cats were gone. They watched them take Brambleclaw’s body away, towards the river – away from what Tinystar assumed was the main LionClan camp. The sun crawled across the sky as Leopardstar remained in the clearing, watching her Clanmates go – before she turned to join Bluestar and the others.

When all was silent, Graystripe let out a hiss of cold fury.

“We can do this,” Ravenpaw breathed. “We have to do this.”

Tinystar looked over at his companions, his oldest friends in the forest. Ravenpaw looked ill, but determined. Graystripe was shivering with rage, his eyes like stone. Tinystar himself felt charged, as well – something had to be done now. There was no way that Stormpaw, Featherpaw, Tawnypelt, or Silverstream would be safe here.

“Where would they keep prisoners?” he asked, looking to Graystripe.

“There’s a bunch of old rabbit warrens not far from here,” Graystripe answered, his tone clipped. “That’s where it looked like they were headed with Stormpaw and Featherpaw.”

Ravenpaw’s tail flicked. “Then we go.”

Tinystar nodded in agreement. “There’s no looking past it – we need to get the prisoners out of here, before they’re killed too,” he decided. His stomach curdled. What about Stonepaw?

I have no idea where he is, Tinystar answered, his inner voice trembling. I won’t be able to save him and however many prisoners there are. He would fight all of LionClan and lose all his nine lives to defeat them – but that would do no good for the cats that needed saving now. Stonepaw would have to fend for himself until some other way was devised. At least being Bluestar’s son means he must be safe.

“Look,” Ravenpaw mewed, breaking into Tinystar’s thoughts. He had sauntered up to the pile of crow-food and rotting carcasses and pulled one of the bodies away with his paws. “I know it sounds awful, but… we can roll in these to disguise our scents.”

Graystripe curled his lip, but didn’t protest. Tinystar was revolted at the thought, but knew it was the best idea they could manage right now.

Together, all three brought out a small pile of crow-food and together all three rolled themselves in it. Tinystar tried to block out the sounds of crunching, mushing corpses and did his best to push back the urge to retch. The others were just the same – quiet, stone-faced, and determined.

Silence lay between them now – after all, what could any of them say, after what they had seen? They knew what they had to do, and the silence seemed almost respectful to Brambleclaw’s memory.

When they were coated and disguised, Graystripe led the way.

———————————————————-

Graystripe pushed them into another bed of reeds as the rabbit warren came into view. LionClan scent was everywhere here – along with the disgusting scent of crow-food, blood, and sickness. Tinystar’s stomach clenched as he peered into the biggest of the holes, clearly hollowed out by cat’s claws. Would there be anyone to save down there?

The earth shifted and a cat’s face appeared in the hole. The tom dragged himself out of the warren, shaking dirt from his broad, striped shoulders.

“Jaggedtooth,” Graystripe hissed.

“Eugh,” Ravenpaw scoffed. “He stinks!”

“So do we,” Tinystar remarked.

Graystripe’s hackles rose. “My kits are down there,” he meowed, his voice low. “And Silverstream, too.”

Tinystar frowned. Jaggedtooth had plopped himself squarely in front of the entrance to the warren. He was clearly not going to move any time soon. Tinystar turned to his companions. “What do we do?”

Ravenpaw and Graystripe’s faces turned thoughtful. Graystripe kept shaking his head, as if he was too worried to think about a plan. Tinystar didn’t blame him.

It was Ravenpaw who raised his tail. “I have a thought,” he mewed.

“Go on,” Tinystar invited, keeping Jaggedtooth in his vision.

Ravenpaw crept forward. “We all might stink to high StarClan, but Jaggedtooth will recognize either of you, even if he’s mouse-brained,” he pointed out. “But if I go… there’s no way Jaggedtooth will know who I am!”

“That’s true!” Graystripe admitted.

Tinystar peered at his black-pelted friend. “Can you do it?” he asked. “We can think of some other plan – there’s no need to put yourself in--”

Ravenpaw shook his head, stating firmly, “There’s no time to think of anything else. Jaggedtooth won’t recognize me, I know it. I can do it, Tinystar.”

Tinystar frowned at his friend. “Alright,” he decided. “Go ahead.”

Ravenpaw nodded, his eyes shimmering with gratitude. The black tom waited until Jaggedtooth looked away before he strode confidently out of the reed bed, his tail high. Tinystar watched him go, huddled with Graystripe.

“Wow,” Graystripe breathed. “It’s like watching a totally different cat, isn’t it?”

Tinystar nodded.

Jaggedtooth’s eye caught on Ravenpaw. He got to his paws and thrust himself in front of the smaller cat, glaring down at him. “Who’re you?” he growled. “What’re you doing here? And… why do you reek?”

“Think you know every RiverClan cat, do you?” Ravenpaw chuckled, waving his tail. “I’m here to replace you – Bluestar’s orders.”

Jaggedtooth frowned. “Oh, really? I seem to recall Bluestar saying that only ShadowClan cats were to guard the prisoners…”

Lashing his tail crossly, Ravenpaw countered, “And here I heard that we were all one Clan now! There’s no ShadowClan or RiverClan anymore, just LionClan, remember? Now – take this up with Bluestar if you like. I just want to get my shift started and over with! You think I want to watch these half-breeds all day?”

Jaggedtooth looked taken aback by Ravenpaw’s tone. Tinystar wondered if the small black tom had gone too far – but the big tabby backed away, his tail-tip twitching.

“Yeah, sure,” Jaggedtooth muttered. “Go right on ahead.”

Ravenpaw drew himself up and nodded at Jaggedtooth, planting himself in front of the warren. Jaggedtooth slunk away, his eyes flickering with confusion and befuddlement. Ravenpaw kept his eyes on the tabby until he’d disappeared along one of the RiverClan hunting trails.

“That was amazing!” hissed Tinystar, coming out of the reeds. Graystripe launched himself past Ravenpaw and down into the warren. Tinystar touched his nose to Ravenpaw’s. “How’d it feel?”

“Amazing!” Ravenpaw purred, his eyes shining. “I’d never have been able to do something like that before I left the Clans. Oh, wow!”

Tinystar butted his head against Ravenpaw’s shoulder and meowed, “We need to move fast. Keep a look out – Jaggedtooth might have gone to Bluestar.”

Ravenpaw nodded.

Tinystar curled his lip at the reek coming from the rabbit warren. But the sound of mews from within drew him on. His small size let him fit into the entrance easily. He tried to keep his anxieties low – rabbit tunnels were tight squeezes, even for a cat as small as Tinystar.

As soon as Tinystar’s whiskers detected an open space around him, he was bowled off his paws. He felt claws pricking his pelt and hot breath on his throat. Tinystar froze, his eyes still adjusting to the gloom.

“Silverstream!” Graystripe called. “It’s okay – it’s Tinystar!”

Tinystar blinked in shock as his eyes took in Silverstream. The she-cat had once been one of the most beautiful in the forest – but now she was thin and bedraggled, her ribs all but piercing through her dull, matted silver tabby coat. But her eyes burned with a fierce light, even as she picked herself off of Tinystar.

“I’m sorry,” she admitted. “Graystripe came down and I thought you were LionClan cats chasing him…”

“It’s all right,” Tinystar told her. His heart pricked at her situation. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“Safe!” scoffed a voice in the dark. Tinystar looked to its source – Tawnypelt, huddled in a corner of the hollowed-out warren. Her eyes flashed with pain and grief. “There’s nothing safe about us right now.”

Tinystar’s heart ached for her. He looked to Graystripe and Silverstream, pressed together around Featherpaw and Stormpaw. The apprentices were hollow-eyed and quiet, trembling beside their parents. Tawnypelt padded up to them and pressed her muzzle to Featherpaw’s, sorrow in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry about Brambleclaw,” Tinystar meowed.

Tawnypelt only blinked. “He did what he had to do.” Her voice was taut. “I just hope it was enough.”

“What’s going to happen now?” Stormpaw wondered, his voice trembling.

“We’re getting you all out of here,” Graystripe insisted, his eyes flashing. “Can you make the trip?”

Silverstream nodded. “My legs will take me anywhere, so long as it’s far away from here.”

“Seconded,” Tawnypelt grunted.

Featherpaw and Stormpaw managed a purr, though fear sparked in their eyes.

“Guys?” Ravenpaw’s voice called down the tunnel. “You need to hurry! I can smell LionClan!”

Tawnypelt’s eyes flashed in the gloom. Tinystar bristled. “Go!” he hissed. “Hurry!”

Graystripe and Tinystar ushered the sick and hurt prisoners towards the exit. Silverstream led the way, with Featherpaw and Stormpaw just behind and Tawnypelt taking up the rear. Energy did seem to fill the weakened cats at the thought of escape – they scrambled out of the hole with gusto. Tinystar and Graystripe followed, urgency leaving Tinystar’s anxieties no room to exist.

They broke into the evening light, which still seemed to stun the prisoners. They blinked their eyes until the light no longer pained them. Just another frustration for Tinystar, he figured – how long had they been in that hole, that sunlight hurt them so?

“We need to go!” Ravenpaw hissed.

“Who is this?” Tawnypelt wondered, her hackles raised as the smooth-pelted black tom.

Graystripe put himself in front of her. “It’s Ravenpaw – he’s a friend. We’ll explain later! There’s no time now.”

Tawnypelt hesitated, but shut her jaws. Silverstream lapped at Stormpaw and Featherpaw, murmuring soothing words to the terror-stricken apprentices. LionClan scent was growing stronger – Tinystar looked at his party now and wondered just how much time they had.

“The stepping-stones,” Tawnypelt meowed. “We need to get there, as soon as possible.”

“Go,” Tinystar insisted.

Together they delved back into the reed bed, bodies low and bellies touching the ground as they headed for the river. Panic pricked at Tinystar’s paws – would these cats be able to swim if they had to? He doubted it – just stalking was making them pant.

The sun was a bright orange flash over the trees when a harsh cry screeched out:

“The prisoners have escaped!”

#tb au #tb the darkest hour

6 notes · View notes

tuwam · 6 years

Text

trial and error.

@rosaeau

alternatively, snippets of taeyang failing to ask out his crush and his crush just, doing it better.

'you’re pacing.’ “i’m not.” he is. taeyang always paces, it’s a habit. like chattering teeth, biting nails, stuttering when he’s nervous. he does the stuttering rather often actually but it falls into other things as well. because he gets nervous often, he’s usually a nervous wreck because of one person in general, the very reason he’s pacing when he should be doing his rounds. ( see: no patients were harmed in the soothing of his stress. )

‘you are. what’s wrong?’ suji likes to gossip, but in the same regard she likes to make sure her interns aren’t completely useless. gives her more work and gossip that makes her have a headache and gives her migraines. taeyang considers telling her, considers saving himself the embarrassment. ‘it’s that barista isn’t it?’ too late. because of course everyone and their grandmother knows about his monumental crush and that he’s done - nothing about it.

but what is he to do.

‘ask the man out stop being a chicken.’

not that. “definitely not that.” ‘you’ve been pining for almost two years tae.’ as if to drive the words home she’s shoving a bundle of towels and disinfectant to stock the next room. it’s like a hit to the chest, a pang to his chest at exactly how long he’s harbored a crush and has done - nothing about it.

‘it’s kind of sad.’ said at the end of their shift when taeyang’s phone is snug in his hand, wondering, hovering over the words to type out. and once again everyone and their grandmother are watching. “i’m waiting for the right time?” he’s lying but his fingers are shaking over the sentence, halfway typed and halfway to the send button. ‘yeah okay, when he holds a green light over his head that says you’re free to ask me out let me know.’

unlikely.

‘just be bold, stop waiting!’ will he be bold? he types out the words, will you go on a date with me, sees them bold and glaring and so unlike him on the screen. sees the silly emoji he’d sent just an hour earlier when hyunshik told taeyang to let him work and ordered him to continue working. he thinks about the timing, about sending the message and the response. thinks about what he’s afraid of most. thinks about how bold he can be, running on three cups of triple espresso shots and a double shift. thinks about how he might never show up to the shop again if he sends this message, regardless of the response.

he thinks about himself as a bold person and decide that it’s....

very unlikely.

he ignores the groans as he grabs his jacket and instead heads to the shop to make his nightly routine visit.

‘i don’t think i’ve ever seen hyunshik tolerate someone as much as he does you.’

the words catch his off-guard. and of course taeyang’s a mess, almost spilling his drink of his hands, hands that nearly drop the drink as the words travel. of course, joowon makes it his job to get taeyang as flustered and distressed as possible. the male enjoys it, probably because hyunshik makes his world miserable, joowon’s words by the way.

“what are you talking about?” joowon’s in the middle of smiling his dimpled smile at another customer over the machine. probably a girl. but he does glance at taeyang, with a look he’s too familiar with. it’s the are you serious look and really taeyang is serious, he has no idea what joowon is talking about. he knows he’s tolerated but - "hyung tolerates you guys too doesn’t he?”

‘he sure as hell doesn’t bring us coffee when we’re tired. or take leisurely walks with us down the street at midnight. hi my name’s taeyang and i like long walks along han river.’ “shut-up.” he contemplates actually throwing the drink, thinks hyunshik might be rubbing off him. but then he remembers the time put in making it and ends up holding it even closer. holding it up to hold the blush taking over his features because really - joowon is insufferable. ‘you guys may as well date. you both enjoy long walks on the han river. color me confused as to why you aren’t.’ color taeyang confused as to why he didn’t throw the drink. or why he’s still standing here, listening to joowon talk as if they were the only ones in the shop, as if the girls waiting on their coffee weren’t enjoying it and giggling at each word. or why everyone is so invested i the state of his nonexistent love life and his private midnight walks with hyunshik. they were routine! they’d happened one day and just kept happening but he sees no point in correcting it, as joowon is grinning so wide from behind that godforsaken machine. “you’re enjoying this far too much.” ‘you’re pretty cute - aside from the fact that i’ve never seen you with a good night’s rest and out of your work clothes.’ “sue me, i’m a nurse’s assistant.” ‘hm. maybe try coming here out of your work clothes. wear something a little more you - have hyunshik drop his coffee.’

unlikely.

taeyang isn’t aware he’s said it out loud until he catches the look joowon gives him from over the machine, no longer the dimpled smile, but a rather deep frown. it makes taeyang fidget. he hasn’t entertained the thought, hasn’t had time to really come here outside of heading to work, classes take up a lot of time and when he does come he’s bundled or thrown something on before going to study or going to head home. he hasn’t had time to dress himself for a while, not that it’d matter.

would it matter? him coming in one of his favorite fall sweaters, colorful t-shirts for the spring. it’s been a while since he’d felt the need to dress for his mood, dress at all really. but hyunshik seeing him in something different, hyunshik actually reacting to it - taeyang can’t imagine that. can’t imagine how much more confident he might be in his regular clothes, as opposed to worn out in his work uniform. ‘i see you’re considering my proposal. maybe even try a crop-top i heard it’s in style these days.’ that effectively causes taeyang to snap out his daze and instead of dropping his drink he’s choking on it. doing all he can to stop the prospect - the idea from getting any further into his head because god no. god forbid. ‘stop harassing him joowon, you have three specialties to make.’ as if to make things worse, joowon is hopping to work, saluting hyunshik and taeyang is trying to look like nothing happened. “sorry i was distracting him hyung.” ‘it’s fine. don’t drink so fast next time, you could’ve choked.’ taeyang’s nodding fast, lifting the cup to cover his own embarrassment and ignoring the looks joowon sends him yet again, from behind that damned machine.

‘i’ve never seen you this - meticulous.’ “it’s my only day off, i’m trying to tidy up.” ‘tidy up my ass you’re trying to pick an outfit.’

taeyang’s sister just - refuses to let him live a peaceful life. she’s calculating even from the video screen he’s got perched on the nightstand. jinyoung is nestled in her arms, both of them watching taeyang flit about to organize his closet. that’s what he’s doing and no one can tell him otherwise.

‘do you have a date?’ “no.”

taeyang’s busy matching colors on himself, his sister knowing becoming the last of his worries.

‘i don’t know tae, you’re so excited for him, how do you know he’s the same?’ taeyang turns over from where the yellow striped shirt is placed against his stomach. ‘obviously you haven’t done anything for this long because you were unsure? do you know if he likes you at all? he’s pretty aloof from what you’ve told me?’

“‘his co-worker said, he tolerates me more.” ‘i tolerate you the most, i wouldn’t date you.’

taeyang is shrugging, so quick that the shirt rises, brushes against skin and the nerves he already feels start to creep back in. he’s thought about this, about the prospect of getting rejected, in fact it’s the only concern he’s had. how to approach if it happens, how he’s had nothing to base his confidence in asking on, just gut and encouragement from others.

if it fails well they can catch him hibernating for the next few years.

‘tan sweater silly. it hangs off the shoulder. light blue jeans, fix the belt and you’re set. a regular hipster pining after the cute barista working by his school.’ “shut up.”

his sister’s about as insufferable as joowon.

‘good luck, tell me how it goes.’

she means well though.

‘someone’s looking snazzy.’ “is hyung working today?” ‘you know he is you have his schedule memorized.’

taeyang prevents any retort that can come next when hyunshik is walking out the back door. he’d done all this, built up all his nerves, dressed nice and he was the one now nervous and feeling like the task was harder than intended.

‘can i write my number on your chai latte cutie?’ taeyang’s going to strangle joowon, but seems hyunshik’s already ordering him to attend to the floor, saving taeyang from further embarrassment. it’s chilly in the shop and he can feel it on his shoulder blades, feels a hell of a lot more exposed when he’s standing before hyunshik. especially when he wants to look into those eyes and he thinks he might combust.

“ah hyung -” hyunshik looks up and taeyang abandons all thoughts of getting this done in one go. “I gave joowon my cup so he’ll just put it in there if that’s okay?” ‘that’s fine, i thought you might be taking it to go.’ “no, i’m dining in if that’s alright, it’s my day off.” ‘taeyang-ah, you don’t have to ask me to dine-in.’

true.

instead taeyang smiles his usual one, sheepish and with his head a little ducked.

joowon brings the mug to the table with a sly grin and taeyang nearly kicks him away. this is something that’s a little routine too, when taeyang gets a break during a shift and he can come over and place his head on the table, moan and groan about work and revel in the fact that hyunshik lets him, sometimes sits beside him and listens to him. especially when they don’t have customers like today and hyunshik takes a seat while joowon flits back and forth on the floor. taeyang enjoys this, the small talk, the talks that he doesn’t have to dwell on afterward. but he will anyway because they’re with hyunshik.

but he thinks, as he sits and watches hyunshik. how he watches joowon, making sure he doesn’t have to do damage control. how hyunshik’s started to lean comfortably against the chair rather than stand leaned against the table. hyunshik who has opened up more than taeyang would ever guess, or hope. all he’s ever asked for was maybe a smile, an acknowledgement. never this. it’s welcomed though. hyunshik’s handsome profile, the way his lips curl into mischief at joowon’s struggle, how taeyang is too fond of the rough and soft edges he’s managed to see.

and he fears that. fears losing that by overstepping boundaries. by asking.

it makes him all the more aware of the mug he’s using, of the plan he’s concocted.

so he finishes a little slower, slow enough for hyunshik to excuse himself to tackle the afternoon rush. slow enough for joowon to be on the floor when taeyang gets up, and for him to be almost certain that joowon will be the one picking up the mug.

‘you’re leaving already?’ joowon looks skeptical, eyes darting towards the empty mug on the table. but taeyang is all smiles after spending the day with hyunsik, even without the titles or the plan or anything. just the time, the smiles and small words. that’s good. “mhm, just came to see hyung!”

he leaves a little more content than he thought he’d be, mission thoroughly unaccomplished.

he leaves the empty mug, with i like you scrawled in the bottom, to be picked up instead not by his crush but by a rather puzzled joowon.

taeyang’s content. he’s warded off all questions, particularly suji, his sister and joowon who nearly breaks the mug when he waves it around the next time they meet. he’s content and in his favorite hoodie, warm with the thought of getting to help hyunshik close up shop again and walk home. he hasn’t been able to spend much time with the elder, other than the time spent that wonderful day taeyang’s plan fell through.

he’s content.

so the words certainly, catch him off guard. hyunshik coming to him, normally, not any less or any more than usually. just normal and asking,

‘wanna go out sometime?’

#rosaeau #{ w: taeyang. }#( can i get hm hyunshiks inner thoughts to taeyang walking in looking cute if theres anythng to share anything to EXPOSE

2 notes · View notes

bee-kathony · 6 years

Text

Chapter 7 of Tales From Fraser’s Ridge: SATURATION

This is a collection of tales about characters that live on Fraser’s Ridge in North Carolina. Most stories are set after or during the book ‘Drums of Autumn’ by Diana Gabaldon. Missing moments I thought would fit in nicely, mostly a look into the domestic simple days of our favorite characters, it’s the little things isn’t it?

Part 1: Tell Me About the Bicycle | Claire & Jamie Part 2: A Song From the Past | Roger & Bree Part 3: Let Me Wash You | Claire & Jamie feat. Bree (briefly) Part 4: Reminiscing | Claire & Bree Part 5: Happy Birthday Sassenach | Claire & Jamie feat. Jenny, Ian, Rachel, Roger, Bree, Jem & Mandy Part 6: By the Fireside | Jenny & Bree Part 7: Saturation | Claire & Jamie (wee bit of Roger & Bree)

Jamie followed Claire’s tracks into the trees, deep into the woods and saw the pile of her clothes near a rock on the edge of the stream.

“Good Lord, she’s naked out here for anyone to see” he said to the open air.

She said she was coming down to wash and of course she couldn’t do that in her clothes. Still, Jamie thought, anyone could come strolling through and see her body, her naked and obviously now wet body. He walked a few steps forward but stopped abruptly, careful not to step on a fallen branch and make any sudden sounds. What he saw in front of him lit a fire deep within, his heart quickened and his mouth began to salivate. Should he be watching her like this?

Claire was definitely naked, she was also lying against the edge of the stream, feet dangling in the flowing water, with her hands curiously roaming over her damp body. Jamie had seen Claire touch herself only once, when they had been in the colonies a short time. That time was by a river too, what was it about water that made Claire so aroused, Jamie wondered.

“A Dhia” he breathed, he should go back and wait for her to return to the house but something wasn’t letting him move from the spot he crouched to watch her in. Before, when he saw her the first time, he could only just make out what her hands were doing to herself in the dark of the night. He had come to her then, they had slid across one another’s bodies, the air humid and damp making their sex quick and slippery.

It was midday, Jamie could see every inch of her. The way her fingers traced lazy circles around her nipples, each bud a deep red against the paleness of her velvet white skin. He watched as her hand then slid down across her wee belly and cupped her mound. It didn’t seem like Claire knew he was there watching but if she did, she wasn’t stopping. That thought made his cock twitch under his kilt. Jamie breathed deeply, skin flush with desire at watching his wife strewn across the earth taking pleasure from her hand.

Claire had told him how she could… finish on her own but that it was always better when a man gave her that pleasure. Should he let her finish, Jamie thought, or should he go to her now like he had done before and take her along the water.

He cursed himself and stayed where he was, just then Claire dipped her fingers inside of herself and moaned, a moan he had heard many a time but usually when he was the one inside her. Jamie couldn’t believe he was sat here this long, it wasna exactly spying he mused, she was his wifeafter all. He moved his hand timidly under his kilt and stroked his length, erect and pulsing with every thrum of his heart.

Claire suddenly arched her back off the ground, feet splashing in the stream and cried out, “Jamie! Oh Jamie” which made his ears turn red and he paused his movements underneath his kilt.

Had she seen him all along?

No. Her eyes had been closed this whole time, she musta’ been thinking it was his hands that now caressed her supple round breasts. He couldn’t wait any longer, the lust growing within him was threatening to consume him if he didn’t show himself to her. Jamie stood up, adjusting his kilt as he crept slowly over to where Claire was now panting, hands out on either side of her body.

“Jamie” she said, startled by his abrupt appearance. “Did you see?” Claire asked, not accusing him but more curious.

“Aye Sassenach, I saw how ye’re wee hands touched yerself,” he bent down so he was crouched beside her and reached out, hands pressing against the sharpness of her collarbones and gliding down along the length of her body, “like this. And I heard ye call out my name mo nighean donn from ye’re wee lips.” Jamie lowered his head, pressing his lips gently against hers, tasting the saltiness of perspiration on her upper lip.

“And did you like what you saw?” Claire asked, eyes alight with the same fire that was burning inside him. She moved her hand to his knee, sliding it menacingly slow along his thigh, she touched his cock then making him almost combust. “Claire…” he sighed, all in one quick fluid movement he was on top of her, kilt shoved aside as he slid home.

“Ye’re quim is slick Sassenach, it feels like the moss that grows on the rocks when I thrust inside ye.” Jamie grunted, hands on either side of her head, body held above her. She slid her hands up his chest and around his arms, holding on as he moved them.

“Are you saying that my ‘quim’” Claire moaned, one leg wrapped around his waist to shift the angle of his cock within her. “Reminds you of a green weed?” She laughed, his mouth capturing the sound, tongue colliding with hers.

“Nah a weed Sassenach” He slid one hand to the point of their joining and moved his thumb against the little hard nub that made Claire bite his lip, he winced but enjoyed the pain. “I only meant the wetness of ye, surrounding my cock, my God Sassenach.” He grunted and moved his hips back and forth, briefly sliding out of her warm centre and then ramming home where he belonged between her thighs.

“Ahhh Jamie” She called out, her eyes looking far beyond his face in front of her, seeing into his soul as he took her. Jamie collapsed in a breathless heap next to her languid body, their sweat and evidence of their arousal shone on her skin. He moved one finger against her neck, feeling her pulse just as she had shown him.

“Ye’re heart is racing as fast as mine Sassenach” he leaned up on one elbow and kissed her, lips parting hers with a tender embrace. “It must be the thrill of being seen at any moment” she growled, moving her nose back and forth against his.

Jamie laughed, fingers brushing off the damp curls that lay across her forehead, “I think ye will need to wash again Sassenach, there’s wee bits of dirt smudged all over ye.” His hands tickled over her shoulders and down to her hips where dirt was indeed smudged across her skin.

Claire moved to sit up and looked down to take survey of her dirt covered body, “Is that so? I wonder how it go there?” She giggled at him, raising her eyebrows before slipping into the stream. “Aha, ye will nah get away from me sah quick” Jamie pulled off his shirt and kilt in speedy fashion and waded into the water after Claire. The water wasn’t too deep, it just reached his hips, ripples came from a few feet away as Claire laid back in the water, wetting her hair once again.

Jamie walked slowly across the stream, the steady rush of the water pushing against him. He found Claire’s waist under the water and gave it a squeeze, “Mmmm Sassenach, I love ye’re body when it’s nice and wet.” He bit his lower lip, picking Claire bodily out of the water and setting her in front of him, his hands lowering to her round arse and bringing her legs to wrap around his hips.

He didn’t take her then, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to, his cock certainly did, wedged between their bodies under the water. But he held her against him, savouring the smoothness of her skin, admiring the way the light flickered in her whiskey coloured eyes. Claire folded her hands around his neck and leaned back, her hair just brushing the surface of the water, he slid one hand from her hips up along her body, resting it in the valley of her firm breasts. “Ahhh” She sighed as he turned them, ever so slowly in circles.

Jamie held her body, almost weightless now in the cool stream, watching the sun dance across the expanse of her skin. He ran his hand over the perky nipples staring him in the face, he scooped up water and let it trickle from his hand over her body, sending chills over her. Claire’s eyes were closed, her arms now floating out beside her, basking in the touch of Jamie.

Roughly one hundred feet away, Roger and Bree were walking through the trees, taking advantage of the sunny spring day. They were talking about this and that, Jem & Germaine getting into mischief, Lizzie and her odd situation with the Beardsley twins. Roger was enjoying the scenery, looking up at the sky, shielding his eyes with his hand. When he looked down over near the stream he stopped dead in his tracks.

“Well ‘Jiminy Crickets’, here they are out in the open.” He exclaimed, squinting his eyes to make sure he it was really Jamie and Claire he was seeing, naked, limbs wrapped round each other, drifting in the water.

“Who’s out in the open?” Bree asked him, glancing in the direction Roger was staring at. “Christ!” She gasped, and hit Roger on the side of the arm, “Will you stop looking at them for crying out loud!” Bree eyed the spot where her parents were, it’s not that she was seeing anything particularly inappropriate, but she felt she was in the middle of a very intimate moment, there wasn’t room for prying eyes, even if her parents decided they could do that sort of thing out in the forest.

“It’s not my fault they’re doing hochmagandy out here now is it?” He laughed, a sudden urge welled up deep within him, he raised his thick brows at Bree and she smirked, shoving him in the chest.

“God Roger, I can’t believe you want to do that after seeing my parents naked! You’re disgusting!” She laughed and with one quick look back at her parents, Jamie’s hands now wound in her Mother’s hair, she turned them both to exit the forest. “I wouldna say ‘disgusting’, I’d say I’m only inspired ye ken?” Roger quipped, his hand slipping down Bree’s back and squeezing her arse making her yelp, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Oh my God.” She was laughing, clearly not turned off to the idea. Roger made a Scottish grunt in his throat and she said, “Oh come on then” and they picked up the pace, reaching the cabin in record time.

“Sassenach, ye look so lovely all spread out, so peaceful and yet while I like to watch ye be still, I canna help but want to make ye squirm.” Jamie sighed, oblivious to their watching party out in the forest. He slid his hand behind Claire’s head and wound his fingers through her hair, cradling her delicate head in his large rough hand.

“I don’t believe we’ve ever made love like this Jamie, in a moving stream…” Claire raised up slightly, her hands finding their rightful place on his chest. She leaned in to kiss him, hesitating before their lips met, “Care to try?” And pressed her mouth on his, not waiting for his response. The twitch of his cock between them was response enough. With one hand held on to the scruff of his neck, Claire moved her other hand below the surface of the water, taking hold of his cock. “Oooo Sassenach, what a fine grip ye have.” He cooed, kissing the side of her jawline.

“Am I being too rough on you?” Claire moaned, her head lolling from side to side as Jamie licked, nipped and sucked across her neck. “Nah mo nighean donn, never.” He found her hips again, guiding her body to envelope around him, he slid between her thighs with the help of Claire’s skillful hand. “Uhhh” Claire moaned, her forehead pressed against his, breath hot against his face, the rhythm of their joining began, a give and take of their souls. He could never tire of seeing Claire like this, her pleasure evident on her face, body surrendering to his with each thrust and twist.

Jamie found it easy to maneuver their bodies in the water, weightless, he bent his knees and thrust in an upward rolling motion, sending splashes of water in the air. “Jamie” Claire breathed, both her hands pressing against his cheeks, her mouth finding comfort in the depths of his. They rode out the waves of their desire, baring everything they had in that moment. They each called out the others name, willing themselves to somehow grow closer, the need to just be was overwhelming.

“Sassenach” Jamie mumbled against Claire’s mouth, her hand had dove under the water, resting on the place of their joining, forcing him deeper inside her. “I love you Jamie” she cried out, her body trembling around his, the vibration of her orgasm over-powered him, sending his head spinning, the rush of the water momentarily making him lose his balance.

Steadying himself, he opened his eyes, gazing at his wife’s astonishing beauty. “And I you” he kissed her, still joined and simply held her against him, drawing life from the nature around them.

#tales from frasers ridge #jamie fraser #claire fraser #outlander #outlander fanfic #AO3 #mclairefras #frisky frasers #getting down and dirty in the water #bree mackenzie #roger mackenzie

84 notes · View notes

azulamakesmeblank · 7 years

Text

Years. [Kataang (Aang x Katara)]

Okay, so I binged the whole series of Avatar: the last Airbender and I can't explain my obsession with this show and with Kataang. I just wanted to write to ease my Kataang loving heart. I love them so much I’m sorry but please give the show a watch it is so SO good. I can’t. ALSO, THERE IS *KINDA* A SPOILER but it's not really that bad.

Warnings: SPOILER (kinda) Angst, violence (light) and fluffy fluff:)

Word count: 2,705

pair: Katara and Aang (grown up)

... I’m really proud of this btw.

It had been 3 years since the Avatar defeated (former) Fire Lord Ozai. Peace once again had befallen the four nations. Balance had finally been restored to the world and the Avatar could rest and clear his mind, and make plans for the future.

Or so he thought.

“Avatar Aang...” Aang's eyes shot open, his body stiffened from where he lay in bed. “Have I come at a bad time?” No... it couldn't be, he thought to himself. “Oh, but it could.” Aang shot up out of bed, assuming a defensive stance immediately.

“How are you here right now,” Aang spoke the words as a demand, not a question.

“Well, you see, that’s quite a funny story-”

“Answer the question, Ozai-” He stressed every word; his face emotionless despite the storm of fear and confusion raging in his mind.

“Maybe we could discuss this over some tea, hm?-” Ozai took a step forward, the Avatar not budging from his stance.

“One more step Ozai, I’m warning you-” Aang was confident... but he couldn’t process the information. Ozai erupted with laughter, a hand on his stomach, but Aang shrugged his mockery off. “I’ve defeated you once, I can do it again.” He snarled.

“Well,” the fire lord looked him straight in the eye and raised his hand. Amber light illuminated his hard features and Aangs stomach dropped. It isn’t possible... “you’ll have to kill me since your little ‘energy bending’ trick wore off.” And the flame vanished as soon as it appeared.

“but... but, you were-”

“The all-powerful Avatar... has failed.” Ozai smiled wickedly at the 16-year-old. But Aang still kept his stance strong.

“Sounds like you’ve got too big for your boots, Ozai. I’m stronger now-”

“I almost forgot!” Aang raised an eyebrow. Ozai had completely ignored him and was now reaching into his cloke. “I got you a little gift.” And something was thrown Aangs way. He caught it in one swift motion and stared into his palm in horror. “You know, a keepsake to remind you of me!” Ozai sounded proud, his face nothing but evil now. Not even a sly smirk on his lips. Aang came out of his stance, his mind in a blur and his body shaking. In his hand, he saw a blue blur.

In his hand, was Katara’s necklace.

A tear ran down the Avatars cheek. “Where is she.”

“Where is who?-”

“I SAID WHERE IS SHE!” Aang screamed, his eyes and tattoos now glowing a bright white. He was ready to strike, but then he heard her voice. Oh her sweet, sweet voice, bringing him back down to earth.

“Aang, Aang please...”

“Katara?” And just like that, he was out of the Avatar state.

“Don’t do this Aang...” Her voice echoed around the room, he tried desperately to find its origins, but the more he followed the sound the more confused he became.

“Katara!” Aang cried. He could hear Ozai behind him, chuckling at the sight. Aang darted from one direction to the other, looking up and down, but never succeeded in finding her.

“Aang.” She spoke again, but her voice was cold now, distant, and came from one place. He pinpointed where it was coming from.

“K-katara...” He turned, finding the water-bender behind Ozai. She stalked forward and raised her hand slowly her fingers flexed in an odd way, and Aang watched her every move. “what are you doing?” His heart pounded. She was like... like a different person? She stared at him with emotionless eyes, and every step she took was perfectly placed. Calculated, was the term. He didn't understand. And then she raised her other hand, just below the other. Her middle finger pushed inwards on both hands, the tips of her fingers pointing to Aang and he realised-

“You failed, Aang.” Katara recited the words like a script, and with one downward movement of her hands, Aang was pulled on to his knees as a cry of pain escaped his throat.

“AHH!” It was a pain he couldn't describe. “P-please katara! You’re b-better than this!-” Another movement. Another wail of pain. Not even the Avatar could resist the compelling and vile power she used now against him.

For Katara, Aang’s beloved...

was blood-bending.

“W-what...” He groaned, sympathy flooding his features as he stared up at the love of his life. She stared back. Her eyes lifeless. Emotionless. Corrupted. Katara was gone, this wasn’t Katara.... it was a puppet. Ozais puppet. “What did he do to you?” She leaned forward on her right foot and lowered her hands, her fingers pointing to the ground and Aang was pulled down, now on all fours. He tried his best not to allow a cry to escape him, but it was too much. He always imagined that blood-bending would be painful, but never imagined this. This was unbearable. It was Irresistible in the worst sense.

The sight before him was one he never thought would be possible. Katara, using her darkest power against him and Ozai behind her as he began a fire bending form. Amber light combusted from the air and the fire Lord controlled it with violence and aggression, but also grace. It was like he had learnt more about fire-bending than anyone would think possible, for the fire moved like water, completely under his control. And Aang couldn’t believe it. Once again he was inches from death. The motive before him was so sinister that he felt powerless. But then, a flicker.

No.

“Your time is up, boy.” He was ready to strike any minute. Katara held her ground with a blank expression, waiting for the blow. But Aang could feel Rava. He could feel his past lives reaching to save him. Ozai’s attempts would fail if he became his most powerful, but Aang would rather die than enter the Avatar state.

If he entered the Avatar state, the primary source of danger would be destroyed. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs because he knew he wouldn't be able to control himself if the inevitable happened.

Another flicker.

“Please! I won’t be able to control-”Katara moved in a way that was alien to any bender. He felt pressure around his rib cage. A tight pressure that caused pain he never knew would be possible. “A-AGH!” Ozai prepared to strike. His evil grin illuminated by the fire he controlled. The power of Rava was coursing through Aang and he couldn't help it. He didn't want this. He never imagined this would be possible. A tear rolled down his cheek. For Aang knew that if he went into the Avatar state, Katara would die.

“Say your goodbyes, Aang.” Aang braced himself and waited. He wished to feel the heat of the flames consume him. He wished to save the love of his life despite her actions against him. But as the flames surged towards him, Aang stood. His eyes and tattoos glowing with pure power. He had no control. And in one swift move, the flames were redirected as he pushed his palms out, arms outstretched.

He was nothing but the Avatar at that moment.

But then, the sight before him filled his conscious mind. Oza, afraid, as the flames worked against him. They licked up his cloak and claimed him slowly, his eyes wide in pain.

And Katara stood. She held her hands out as a makeshift shield; just like the day at the river bank when Aang lost control. That time, she only burned her palms... but this time, Katara was engulphed.

The glow faded and he dropped to his knees. He couldn't breathe. There was a lump in his throat and his eyes stung with tears. His stomach turned as Aang watched the love of his life die.

“Katara!”

“Shh, I'm here...” She sat on the edge of his bed and traced her fingers lightly along the tattoo on the back of his neck. “You're okay Aang.” She watched him, sympathy in her features for the boy she had come to love. His eyes fluttered open, and he scrambled away from her touch.

“No! Stay away from me!” Ozai survived! Aangs mind told him, still believing he was in the torturous dream world he had unknowingly escaped. And then his eyes focused.

He couldn't believe it.

“...Katara?” She let out a breath and smiled at Aang, her eyes soft. He watched her, his chest filling with butterflies as he realised she was indeed alive. “Oh spirits, Katara!” Aang pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her as tight as possible. His nose was filled with her sweet scent and he shut his eyes. Katara held onto him with everything she had. She hated that after everything Aang had been through, he was still tormented with nightmares. He buried his face in the crook of her neck taking in a deep breath. Pure happiness filled him as he realised how alive Katara was.

“I'm right here...” The girl sighed, sliding her hand up and down Aangs back in a comforting gesture. She hated seeing him like this. Everyone did. After defeating Ozai, he didn't deserve being tortured in a way that he couldn't defend himself.

“Katara...” Tears threatened to run down his cheeks but he blinked them away. “You're okay,” He whispered into her hair, sounding so relieved and content at this moment. Just holding her close to him put his mind at ease. Aang forgot all of his worries, his fears, his weaknesses and doubts. All he could see was her.

All he could think about was her.

“Aang... I’m so sorry you have to go through this,” She pulled back from their embrace, cupping his face lovingly. And the pure being Aang was, he simply smiled back at her, shaking his head slightly.

“Stop. Don't do that.” His grey eyes peered into hers, urging her to listen to what he was telling her. And she did; that’s the effect he had on her. “Don’t apologize for something that isn’t even remotely your fault.”

“But I hate to see you like this-” She gazed over his handsome features, tracing her fingers lightly down the side of his face; a solemn look on her on.

“I know...” He reached up, placing his hand on hers and leaning into her touch. “But I always feel better. You know why?” Aang smiled down at her and she giggled a little.

“I can hazard a guess,” She breathed and looked down at her lap, colour rising in her mocha cheeks. Thank the spirits it’s dark in here...

Aang smiled down at his girlfriend, her shy mannerisms still one of his favourite things about her. He reached out, his hand under her chin and tilted her face up so their eyes met. Both their smiles, gone, as he looked at her seriously. “You, Katara.” She blushed again, but her icy blue eyes never left his grey ones. A shade that she had grown to love. “You help me forget.”

There were a few seconds of silence, just gazing at each other.

Katara couldn't quite get used to how handsome he had become. He was a young man now, 16 and only getting better. Her hand found its way back up to cup his face and she couldn't help but notice the coarseness under her fingertips. He really was growing up.

And Aang, he had forever been in awe of her beauty. The glow of her skin that just radiated purity and kindness. She got to him in a way he had never been familiar with; until he met her. His fingers moved slowly from the base of her chin to her mouth and with precision, he outlined her lips, causing the girl to part them slightly.

They were lost in each other. Completely and utterly lost. Kataras mind drifted to the night they had together in the cave of two lovers. It was said that with love, they would find the way. And so they did.

Aang gazed at Katara, her eyes completely filled with emotion this time, and she gazed back. His hands were cupping her face and hers were around his neck, her thumbs tracing short lines up and down his tattoo. Katara caught him as he sighed and shut his eyes a little longer than a blink. The simple move she made sent a delightful shiver down his spine. She didn't know, but his tattoos were one of the most sensitive areas of his body. And it was a favourite move of hers. This time, though, she noticed his reaction.

“What was that?” She questioned playfully, not stopping her thumbs from gently caressing the area.

“What was what?” He shut his eyes again as another shiver ran down his spine. It was such a simple kind of contact, but it had such an impact.

“That!” She smiled, her eyes searching his for the answer. “Does it feel...”

“Good?” He looked down at her, laughing a little. “I’d be lying if I said it didn’t.” Katara blushed, not realising that every time she had touched his tattoos, admired them, that it made him feel kinda... good.

“Is that because of the... process? You know, when you got them. It had to of hurt.” She was intrigued, still tracing the marking on the back of his neck.

“I mean, it hurt a lot. The ink was literally scraped into our skin, so it sorta makes sense that the area is so sensitive now.”

“And all the times I... admired them...” Aang blushed a little as Katara just smiled thinking about the times she would trace the arrows from the top of his head to his feet. “you never let me know that it felt... like that?”

“That's not true,” He smirked down at her, “You just didn't notice.”

“Oh okay, well I did 2 seconds ago.” Katara grinned up at him, his hands still cupping her face. They hadn't moved from their position and didn't plan to anytime soon. She reached up and placed a soft kiss on his arrow and Aang smiled at the gesture. Her face suddenly turned serious. “At some point, the dreams will stop, you know that?” Katara didn't want to ask what had happened in the said dream. She left that up to Aang. If he wanted to talk about it, he could.

He looked into her eyes, running a hand through her hair, but she looked upset again, and he hated seeing her upset.

“Katara,” He whispered. “I’ll get through it. Please don’t be sad for me.” He gently grazed the back of his fingers over her cheek. Katara smiled softly, knowing that Aang would get through this. And she refused to leave his side no matter what.

“I can’t help feeling this way when the one I love is in pain.” She gazed up at him, her eyebrows furrowed and took in all of his features. “I love you, Aang. I will stay by your side through all of this, no matter what.” Aang smiled as she caressed his face and gazed into his eyes. Slowly, she leaned up and placed a soft kiss on his lips causing Aang to let out a small sigh of pleasure. Her touch would never cease to affect him so much. For he loved her too. More than anything in the world.

“When you’re with me, I feel better than okay.” He held his hands on her waist. “I feel alive.” With a smile, Aang leaned in and kissed her passionately. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. Moments like these were hard to come by for the young couple since all eyes were always on them. It was even frowned upon for the two to share the same room So they savoured any time they had, taking full advantage of the privacy they were granted. Aang pulled back and she gasped. When Aang kissed her, like that, he took Kataras breath away. “I love you.” He sighed, their foreheads together. “I will never stop loving you.” His voice was a low whisper, eyes closed as he reflected on the love of his life. “Don’t ever leave me...”

“Not in a million years.”

152 notes · View notes

oliveheart-worldbuilding · 6 years

Photo

The sun was high in the sky, the cicadas sung fervently from the treetops. Not a breeze moved the stone pines’ needles. The temperatures had risen since the last moon, Clayclan’s camp seemed deserted, every cat hiding from the heat under the stones that protected their camp. The start of the cicadas’ song had the clan harrowed, they knew the lovers always came to dance with the first songs. Verfeor and Vifeor were well-known for both their richness and mischievous nature, their love was ferocious and pitiless, they knew Verfeor would dance for her lover again, no matter how many lives were at risk, and combust the forest in flames. The cats had prepared, like every other cycle, so that fleeing routes had been taught to every cat. Once the flames started their dance, everyone was to leave everything behind, for staying to secure camp would end up in death.

“He is dangerous, my leader.”

A couple of ears were raised in mild annoyance. A loud snore followed by a few purrs left one of the inferior dens and a kitten’s wail was heard from underneath a seemingly small den. The cicadas had stopped singing; from the highest den in camp, a deep sigh followed.

“Is he, Ilexstorm? Just like Sedgepelt or Fennelpaw are? No, don’t hide your blatant distrust on anyone but yourself by calling our seer a traitor. He shouldn’t pay for what the Forgotten did.” Genetstar spoke with voice rusted but melodic. Like a river that had made its way across the earth by mere patience. The tom spoke calmly, like he would do to a kit, but severe, berating his younger companion.

“But, sir-“

The tom sighed again. The seasons had behaved well on him, his fur was still brilliant and his eyes, tough tired, held as much passion as they did on his days as a rookie warrior. The stress of being leader on such troubling times had reduced his sleeping time, he no longer had time to properly spend time with his family or taste prey in peace. His patience was running thin and Ilexstorm had made an habit out of her constant bickering.

“No. You are deputy. Your clan chose you because they needed you, they trusted us with the task of fixing this clan. Stop losing everyone’s time, stop losing my time. Fulfill your duties. Now, if you don’t have anything else to say, you sho-“

“I have a request, Genetstar.” The young molly’s calico fur laid merely ruffled, her tail battering the dusty ground impatiently. Genetstar could feel her annoyance and, yet, he knew she was making an effort at keeping her anger at bay. Genetstar was sure her request would only trouble him and the clan but decided to let her continue nonetheless.

“Tell me, child.”

The molly’s fur lied down replacing her annoyance with loftiness, her whiskers twitched.

“An apprentice, for our seer.”

“How’s that? You don’t trust him with the power of his role but you want to give him an apprentice?”

“Yes sir. Kiteclaw was once a warrior, he only became a seer because no one else would take the place. Young Partridgekit has shown interest in the role, he will be named apprentice soon.”

The old tom was genuinely surprised.

“I don’t understand. Why?”

The molly’s eyes seemed to shine a little brighter.

“Because if Partridgekit were to become seer then Kiteclaw would be able of returning to his warrior’s duties. The clan needs warriors more than ever and Kiteclaw is still one of our best fighters, Genetstar. The smell of war is still thick in the air, his skills could be needed any day and as a seer he is of no use.”

Genetstar laid his ears flat. He knew of Ilexstorm’s lack of faith but it still stung his heart to hear such words. He momentarily thought about punishing her disrespect but her words had already made way through his head. She was right, during the Moonless Leadership the wars had been constant. Accused of murder, Brookclan and Seaclan had defended their honor with fang and claw. Victims, there were many, and Genetstar knew there wasn’t much he could do to stop a grieving clan from hating his own. He needed to be ready, for battles will still be fought.

“Saying that a seer is of no use is a great affront, Ilexstorm, but I will forgive you. Your words do make sense. I will speak to our seer so he can prepare to have an apprentice. Now, if you pardon me-“

“Not yet, Kiteclaw’s training isn’t over, you said it yourself, Genetstar. You send him over to Brookclan so he could finish his studies, didn’t you? There were no other motives, were there, my leader?”

Both cats knew that there were many motives for sending Kiteclaw away, but Genetstar couldn’t admit it. When Carobpath was killed, the seer place was left unattended for sunhighs, the clan feared they would be punished by the stars for their disrespect. Kiteclaw took the place when no one else wanted to, he was sent to Mountainclan were he was taught everything he needed to know. He was dutiful, obedient, willing to please and faithful; Genetstar had never once questioned him until the Forgotten’s crimes were exposed. When the Moonless Leadership was taken down, Genetstar decided to have faith. Protecting the seer from his own clan became a must, so he sent him away. He told the clan his training was not over yet even though he had been professing his faith as seer for many moons. No one questioned him, the clan was too tired, too numb, to do so. Anyone but Ilexstorm.

“Do not dare doubt my word, rud*.”

“I do not, sir. My point is, if Kiteclaw’s training isn’t over, then he surely isn’t ready to train an apprentice. Partridgepaw should be sent to another clan so he can properly learn the ways of the gods. Carobpath himself said it once, ‘there is nothing as important as the will to learn of an apprentice’, we shouldn’t decide over this young kitten’s future just because he has no available mentor. Turnstonenose of Duneclan could prove a good one. Duneclan has no quarrel with us and Turnstone’s fame precedes her, she would be a good mentor. Once Partridgekit is named seer Kiteclaw shall return to his warrior duties. If he accepts, my doubts will then disappear and you, my leader, could dispose of a powerful fighter once again.”

Genetstar sudden purr made Ilexstorm raise to her paws. Genetstar had caught on her plan a long time ago but he wanted to hear it from her.

“It does sound like a clever idea, my child. You want him out of the seer role, don’t you? why?”

The molly seemed to relax, returning to her resting position she uninterestedly licked her paw. Now that she had her leader’s attention she could allow herself to be bold. Genetstar squinted at the molly but kept her attention on her.

“Because he is dangerous. We cannot, and shouldn’t, forget that he was Brown-“

Genetstar’s spirit seemed to momentarily leave his body. The tom squinted harder and hissed at the molly who lowered her head slightly.

“Ilexstorm.”

“-The Forgotten’s brother. He could have known everything before paw, he could have been behind the murder of Darkstripe or Carobpath or Nut-“

Pain shot through the leader’s body.

“Enough.”

The molly fell silent. Looking at his leader expectantly. Genetstar fixed his gaze on her, somehow, through her hatred and unfaithfulness, he could see a hurt rookie grieving for her mate. Both cats had lost a lot to the Forgotten. He sighed. Serleum had nearly finished his rush across the heavens. Through one of the biggest entrances of the dens, one surrounded by moss, clay-stone and wood, the sky could be seen slowly staining blood-red. Genetstar neared the entrance slowly, with solemnity, turning his back on his deputy. The temperatures had dropped. A soft breeze made the spotted cat’s whiskers dance. The tom let memories flood his senses.

Ilexstorm shuffled her paws impatiently. She had planned this through, she wanted it to be perfect. Her clan wouldn’t be endangered by prophets and murderers again, not while she was deputy, not while she could do something to stop it. She started to move, nearing her leader.

“I’ll think about it.”

Genetstar’s words seemed to echo through the den. Ilexstorm was frozen to her place.

“Thanks, sir.” She couldn’t belive she had done it. “Tough your answer must come in quick” She wanted more.

“Isn’t it enough that I’m considering it?”

Her leader turned, fixing his hazel eyes on her own blue ones. For a moment Ilexstorm saw a father, one that had lost much and was still grieving. She blinked and the sight was gone.

“I fear not, Genetstar. Partridgekit’s naming ceremony will be held soon. I am deputy, it is my role to decide who shall mentor who.”

The tom let a tired purr leave his muzzle once again.

“Clever molly. Then I accept, I can foresee that peace will make us wait, we need warriors and a devoted seer will surely make the gods turn their good eye on us. Kiteclaw won’t oppose and I’m sure Duneclan won’t either. You may start the preparations; I leave it in your paws to send a patrol to Duneclan. You shall lead this patrol and Kiteclaw will go with you. Discuss your idea with Buzzardstar and bring me good news. That old tom and I are good friends, I’m sure he’ll accept. Partridgekit and their family must be informed too. Now leave, all this blabbering is giving me headache. The sun is low, notify whose warriors shall leave with you, prepare the last border patrol of the day and sleep. You will need it. You may leave by next twilight.”

Ilexstorm rose to her paws with cheer, like an apprentice that has just caught a really juicy prey.

“Thank you, sir. I’ll leave now.”

As the molly turned heels, the last sun-rays of the day casted shadows upon the clan, the sight made Genetstar anticipate with dread. The old tom often found himself wondering if his deputy was to be trusted. She was change, and once he was gone, she would become future. The idea frightened him and kept him awake at night. What would become of Clayclan if lead by someone without faith? Someone without fear? Someone young and bright as Coaen herself? The tom shook his fur.

“Loanara watches, Ilexstorm.”

The molly turned, resting a careful gaze on her leader.

“And Serleum hears, Genetstar.”

#warriors #warrior cats #clayclan #warrior cats oc #worldbuilding #ilexstorm #genetstar #moonless leadership #the Iberian clans

8 notes · View notes

2gameprince · 7 years

Text

Pyre On The Lake

The white room gleamed a horrible clear color, while the air was dry and void of any flavor. This room was a cell. But a cell in a place which my mind could not yet register, as the events leading to my imprisonment are not those of a thief or a murderer. This white room is not of the world I once knew, and my tale is as unlikely as any story, I imagine, you have ever been told. It started as a boating trip with my older brother, Anthony. He had just returned from college and I had recently graduated highs school. After a long time away we’d figure we’d rebuild the connection of our close relationship by going on a boating trip, free from the scolding words of our parents when the booze and pot were whipped out. We contemplated bring up girls, but Anthony and myself were more introverted than most guys our age, I guess. We had always been close. And we decided that this trip would just be for us. We paid for some old cabin that our dad’s friend was renting out and took out some our savings to afford a week and a half up there, in the mountains. The cabin was near these two rivers, side by side and flowing quick and steady down the slope of the hilly landscape. Woods surrounded the cabin, which surprisingly was very well kept. The interior was almost completely modern. It had tables and beds and stuff that folded out from the shaved walls. There was a view through this back window that was positioned over this lake, directly behind the building. While looking out the back window, which was in the room I was sleeping in, the sun peeked out from behind the rocky horizon and reflected off the water so beautifully. The outside air was bug-free and the temperature was astonishing. We had finally reached our vacation spot. I thought about the day I had had and the bustle of my daily life which brought me to plan such a week. I remember thinking aloud to myself: “Today is looking to be one big steaming pile of shit. I'm working in the blistering heat of a humid August day, watching the old Italians and Jewish-folk of the neighborhood waddle by and into their mini vans. I think about how I might be spending today if I was in their position. I got a pack of cigarettes in my pocket; Found under my bed a day or two after my girlfriend had misplaced them there. I don't like the taste. The tobacco, or whatever the hell they put in cigarettes nowadays, is too packed for me. I enjoy a lighter, smoother brand. I'm supposed to be up pushing carts around, but in this weather I'm more sure I'd die of heatstroke before I could clear a parking lot. Besides, I'm in no mood to help the average schmuck about their "pleasant shopping experience”. Customers are all promised special treatment and the workers are all promised aggravation and shit pay. If it wasn't for the fact that it was a hundred degrees out here, and that I need some god damned form of income to keep the judgmental words of my peers away, I'd up and stroll all the way home right now. Or, storm into the office of my boss, throw my vest and belt down on the table and tell them "I quit"; Just like in those old stereotypical cop action-flicks. And the sun shower has begun. About time. It doesn't do much; Just kinda makes me feel as if the air has gotten cooler. Anything to trick the mind. When the carts ain't that full I like to sit on a bench, past where the front store cameras can spot you, smoke and fiddle around on my phone. No one in my family knows I smoke cigarettes. Maybe they assume I do and are too trusting in my ability to share every single detail of my personal life with them that they'd just rather wait for me to say I do. All the while making allusions. I considered lighting up another cigarette, since after downing two I kinda got used to this brand's taste, but I'd rather not. I'll make them last if I gotta. Just don't wanna run the risk of a family member driving by and seeing me swallow smoke. I could picture them flying home in a panic and gossiping like fat-lipped gulls, as they like to do. Probably not my mother, though. She can keep a secret, as far as I've observed in my life, so far. Had to get back to work. Been sitting down for a good hour and the mixed temperatures in the air, as well as this flat wooden bench, are starting to turn my legs and my ass numb. I'll sit down again once I'm ready for a third cigarette and a bottle of water; Or both.” What a day that was, and how happy I was to return home and see my brother waiting. Over dinner our brother brought up the subject of fishing and I took to the idea of a trip. Anthony would be home permanently now. At least, until pursuing a career in computers. And at some far away company in ‘god-knows-where-ville’. So for the short time we had with him, I suggested a trip and he took to the idea quick-fast. Our parents, hesitant at the thought of their only two sons fending themselves off from the “horrors” of the wilderness stirred them, Anthony assured a tranquil and firm environment. So with much discussion and the assurance of mine and my brother’s responsible nature, my parents waved us goodbye two days later. I tried my best not to think back to the dull life back home and focus on the time I had now. Anthony and me went hunting for a while, caught a habit or two and, before hand, got settled into our rooms. I prepared to relax in the cabin’s living room as I found the television actually receiving channel pick-ups. I skipped through some static and came to some local new stations and a kid’s channel. Anthony entered the room and asked if I was ready to start fishing. It was eight at night, but I humored his eagerness. So I took a pole from behind the shed, as well as all the hooks, lines and bait that he’d set up, and we walked on down to the dock for some night-fishing. We thought about setting into a boat out on the water, but decided against the idea. We figured it’d take too long. We set up our rods and took a seat out on the dock which rested on the beach and followed up out on the water in a ’T’ shape. The moon was full and the lake was a black glistening muck. Beautiful upon viewing, but sinister underneath. I looked up at the moon and thought about our time together. Not many words were exchanged between us upon that dock. We were both lost in the moment. The perfection of the night and the appreciation of one-another’s company just had us at ease. There was no need for words. Presence was enough. And so, we commenced fishing. We sat upon the dock and casted lines. We caught nothing for about and hour and decided to pack up. Just as we were putting the hooks away we noticed the water dancing. There was a ball of scrambled liquid, floating within the center of the lake and glowing a reddish glow beneath the surface of twirling water. It was like a sun beneath a sheet of liquid. Loops of thin fire sprung out from the sphere as it grew in size. It mesmerized our eyes and then our senses. First came it’s sound, vibrant and appealing in multiple tones. Next, came it’s smell, like a fresh brush of air which had been untouched by atmosphere itself. A temperature beyond hot or cold. This heat, or cold, or whatever flowed out from this ball, and the ball grew bigger. I turned to Anthony to see he had been lost in the look of the thing over the lake. I looked on with a daze and almost wanted to reach out for it. Fire flew out at us in loops again; But this time they struck at the shore and the dock, slicing up the area around us. Our daze became fear as we snapped out of our trance and into a panic. We dodged these rays and ducked to avoid these growing masses which blew out of the sphere like hot steam from a tight radiator pipe. I jumped from the dock alongside Anthony as two beams shot between us. I landed on the grass as the last of the dock was burned way. I felt Anthony’s body follow me in the jump, but as he landed I heard a much softer landing. I leaned over in horror to see his torso burned in two. Everything from his lower chest down was burned away, as if combustion had taken the rest of him. More than anything, I remembered feeling angry. A feeling which attracted me to the sphere, both in fury and interested. I moved closer, and in rage I threw my self at the thing, triggering some rift. A blast of light engulfed me in fire and I passed through, what seemed like a flux of air, built-up in a brush of heavy wind. A wind which carried me away. Out into a void and black place where there was no air. My feet fell flat on the water as gravity shifted and I sunk under the surface. The lake became a portal, and upon the other side I found myself in a place removed from space and time. A corner of a dimension that was separated from all other things. A desolate realm of nothing, but… Him. He revealed himself to me. A presence within the lake, he was. A speaker of ancient things and a spirit of the sub-conscious and, not a speaker of words, but a conveyer of thought. This ghoul passed over me, almost scanning me with eyes it did not have. I felt this being in all his entirety and felt all that he was about. Meaning, purpose, origin and creation; This being… It’s name, ‘Droth', was something not of earth or humankind. Or of space, in that regard. Droth. It was the only word that came to mind. It was the name of this presence. This thing which pulled me into this realm. Not a living thing. Just a being of some sort. A “Him”. I felt a great sleep approach me. An almost ambitious haze which entered my mind and brought back thoughts of a calm and resting environment. I was in a place of familiarity brought on by Him. And He made me remember my youth. And in my youth there rested a short tale. The abstract tale of a man named Thomas Leaf. A story which confused, yet, settled me and a story that went something like this: “He was a fitted-man. Thomas, as he was called. And he made a habit of mowing his rooftop every noonday and again, especially when the grass got tall after the rain. The sun was half up before I noticed him. My wife, sitting in our kitchen sink, called me to the window. I was in the shed with a ball of screws. I came trotting out to answer her call. That was when I noticed Thomas, prim as a pipe and getting vulgar. His wife sat under him, the house ablaze. The anguish was a fog of smoke. Thomas’ house had begun up, while my wife stared blankly. Misses Thomas, engulfed in flame, sat in her rocking chair, flames all about. Cotton filled my ears. The drums were booming as the sun ran a cycle. Thomas was in a panic, the grass burning from beneath him. Before long, he fell through. There was my house and his. My house, a square structure with pink walls, and a brown roof and a chimney. Thomas’ house was a pile of ashy mulch, containing the remains of Misses Thomas. Thomas stood right and proper, turning to me. The sky was scribbles as Thomas set off. Far into the distance he walked. Our houses, once standing at the threshold of an empty endless field, now a home accompanied by a blotchy blackness. We still live in the house, the misses and me. The town tried phoning Thomas, but he’s gone far away now. The birds come every day now, picking noodles from the wreckage. I have no doubt that Thomas will return soon. After all, he forgot his mower.” It didn’t make sense and it wasn’t supposed to, I guess. And that what the outlook I had placed upon my parent abduction at the hands of this otherworldly being. As for the story, I pondered the triggered memory. I could never remember the author, just the absurdity of the character named Thomas and his world, which appeared so unreachable to me. As if existing on a realm I’d never given thought to, or a place of pure fiction. I slipped back into a dream as his power over my being kept me sedated. His exact plans for me were uncertain. Was this mirage of a monster to devour my soul like a demon? Or steal my blood like a parasite? This worry fell back into lightheadedness as I floated back in space. A scene formed around me as a strange dream began to play out. The cocktail lounge was a bustle of mixed chatter which played along discontentedly with the absence of any music. We were in a long hall with a blue tile floor and golden flowers on shiny light brown tables. The bar tenders were attentive, and along with the assisted telling of my parents that I was under age, I was sure they'd ask me for identification. This left my plans of drinking for the evening null and void. I grabbed a small plate of eggplant parmesan and a cut of beef. I walked back to the table and got settled, realizing that I had forgotten a fork. After another trip, and a quick pondering about the absence of alcohol in my life, I sank back into my seat and wolfed down the plate. I had picked up this weird blue drink with fruit punch, dry ice and a cherry. The drink was alright. Sure as hell wasn't no substitute for a great big bottle of cold wine. A little while past and I took a picture at the request of the traveling photographer passing out table by every few minutes. I wanted to stretch but my dress cloths were too tight, as they always are, and my shoes were too small, like dress shoes always are. There was a fake fish tank full of plastic organisms and plants all around it. Caught me off guard at first. There's a faint booming coming from some curtains to our right as some woman in a tux waltz' up to us and instructs us the main room and dance floor are open. I get up to feel the creamy brush of swamp-ass as the heat begins to hit me now. I walk along this white curtain upon the wall to avoid stepping through some people's conversations. And we're onto the main room. I instantly recognize a flow of cool air which takes me over almost instantly. The music is louder now and unhelpful, teamed with the small headache that the heat had previously caused. Another DJ. I hate DJs. Cheaply hired, they blast over-rung beats so all the drunken thirty-year old women in the room, all with the same haircut and ideal social media profiles, can get up and wobble like rum-fiends on the dance floor. This obsession which drives them to drink is no stranger in my mind. And while they have the ability to order drinks as they please, one year away from being twenty one leaves me at quite the disadvantage. Luckily, there sits in front of me, a glass of champagne, only half filled, with five unoccupied seats around me and no one to finish the bubbling goodness of those glasses. So, one by one I poured them all into my drink, filling up the champagne till I was holding a pleasing amount. I threw my head back and caught a chunk of fresh air which freed me from my slumber. My breath was quick and hastily executed, almost as if I had ceased breathing while unconscious. Stars are all around me as this force, Droth, moaned in displeasure at my struggle for escape. This being longed to enter me. To take control of my mind for purposes which were beyond me. And with all my might I wouldn’t let it! It was through visions that He manipulated mankind. I say ‘He’. Not ‘it’ or ‘that’ or some other third thing to describe the presence He presented. It was just ‘Him’. A final and absolute to everything. The God, if you will; And in this darkness I sat as all that was around me was void. In the blackness of space he sat as my parallel, peering into my core. My soul and the nothingness that made me up. His glare was indifferent; And this place in which He had brought me was one of unrest, and yet I felt sedated. I was away from the world and outside an area of time which I could recognize. Home was a distant thought as this presence emanated and took me over. The cabin, the lake, the woods; All of it had gone now and only the complete indifference of this essence out of the ethos was with me now. Within me now. In this instance I was bigger than the sunos any start from here to infinity. Molecules were the insignificant makeup of a futile existence which only spiraled to one day cease to exist. In a moment I saw the universe and Him; And He was everything. I though nothing of my brother and his death, or the life I had left behind. Only He was true. He was injured, longing for a return to a place where I could be his entirety. Where I could be his parallel as he would walk in my skin. He wanted a return, back to the place of his birth and an escape from the valley of shadows we equally inhabited. He was strong, and as He attempted to convince me of his sincerity, my doubts vanished as if removed by a drug of some sort. Everything was water and space became liquid. I fell asleep to it’s vibrations as my eyes drew a tunneled vision. I sunk into slumber, and alongside Him I did slip back into this world. He followed. When I came to for the second time I could feel him with me. I was back on the lake and I was floating just barley atop the waters. The lake was motionless and the water stayed still in the moonlight. My lower body was still as He held me up. Through the lake and parallel reflection of the plane beside our own, he did begin to disperse. Out from the light and water He came, pressing out from the rift-less black and out into thee cloudy night sky. Peace of the heart became a scream of insanity as He was released upon the world. This being from another place, this sentience from another time; It was loose in our world. A dangerous thing, indeed. As the dimension from which it had transported us had closed up like a dark curtain. The form of the water changed from an ice gleam and into a cold ripple. He had taken to the forest and begun to surge through the land, traveling to find others like myself. Batteries to feed his cycle of ecstasy. He moved like wind and grasped at mater which harsh attachment. If it could be felt it could be manipulated, and across the rocky mountains He raced, absorbing the history of the land and data which designated within him. I felt this strength growing. He swept over beavers and deer and squirrels and chipmunks and things like that; Absorbing life. Collecting that stuff that made up souls. He was an Irk. That place from which he had escaped was a prison. And from his procession of me, we were tied together. I was the avatar of Him and He existed here because I had too. It was almost unexplainable how an entity, trapped within the reflection of a lake, coveted my soul. Never could I have imagined myself serving as vessel to those forces which I had previously never shed a thought for. But now, He tarnished the land and the death of my brother began to take me over as He branched out more and more; Allowing his hold on me to cease. The image of my brother’s body revealed itself one last time as I knew what I was to do to prevent His presence in this world. For my brother and for the safety of all those who call this planet home, He had to die. In turn, I had to die with him. He believed he had bonded to a perfect host. One without logic or reasoning enough to realize the intensions of a beast from a ball of fire on a lake made from the stars. I was sending Him back, with no chance of returning. I could see how he played dormant. With the state of the lake and the seclusion of this abode, this was holy ground. Or, perhaps even more than that. A prison for the otherworldly. A lake of pyre which held the very essence of a flame. A foul soul from a time lost and forgotten. It was into that forgotten passage which I was ready to return unto. And as I lied back and took my first swallow of the water, my feet only left the floating surface of the water once He had felt my life draining. With each breath of liquid he died, more and more. I drank the lake in heavy breaths as my lungs filled. I choked and gagged, but stuck at it. Drowning myself agonizingly. His soul sunk back into the lake as his fire died and his essence over the woods was subsiding. I opened my eyes for a moment as he rushed through me to find an escape. There was none, and within that lake I drowned myself, taking Him with me. As we returned to that void together, it struck me. This separation of sorts. As I flew backward into nothingness this black prism of space began to run white, like milk in water, the gleaming took over and a box began to enclose around me. I could feel him no more as all of his being fled from my core, returning mw to a fragile state. I believed myself to be dead, passing through layers of time which I had previously turned blindly upon. falling through time, these layers formed a box and here I was imprisoned. I felt nothing and the world outside these walls did not exist. Did I kill god? Is this all that is left of humanity? Did I destroy a force, able to keep the universe in form, and had I destroyed the form-keeper, reducing space and time into white walls of conscious-less absence?! Shock hit me as I collapsed to the ground. There was nothing around me but this prison. This white room within which I was trapped. And so I will remained trapped, until, perhaps, the absence of the void which placed me here is born again; And cycles in the new forms of creation. In turn, pulling back to a place of space and comprehensible time. Until that day, lost I remain among the starts. Look up and see me not, for I do not see you.

0 notes