#its a bit brighter than id like but this is better than too dark

[psychiclounge]

so i’ve been learning dromed,

[wundersmith-squall]

ramble about your Ezra Squall redemption arc please?

Absolutely- id be very happy to! I'm quite aware that im about to sound like this:

but you asked so this is what you signed up for /j

Soooooooo it basically wormed its way into my head because of the one time where Squall said something like 'We're wundersmiths we take all of the blame and none of the credit' and I was like, okay sir are you speaking from experience? What was the 'credit' of your actions? And also the mention of the shared enemy, which I at the time took as meaning partially something in the republic that threatens Nevermoor, and partially something to do with the system, the Wunderous Society and like, all the people in charge who are against wundersmiths and are trying to hold Mog back.

Along with these two things, I'd like to think that 100+ years of banishment are long enough to rethink your actions and become a better person.

So, I'll explain it in a way that wont take an entire essay to write out. Basically it goes in my head that, Courage Square was, at least partially an accident, and over 100 years the story got skewed, and the current population turned against Ezra and the Wundersmiths, while the population at the time knew how, Wundersmiths ultimately were trying to help Nevermoor. Courage Square was bad, which is why Ezra was banished, but he wasnt killed. After a tragedy, it would be expected that he'd be punished, but at the time, the Republic as we know it didnt exist, and so being banished out there was a very bad fate, but it was definitely better than death.

Ezra went through a, lot of bad mental states during the first few decades of his banishment, but as he grew older, he came to terms with both his past actions and his current situation, though he still feels guilty about it.

In my head, the Wundersmiths were originally established to protect Nevermoor from the weird creatures of the darkness that the Wunderous Society takes care of now. Those creatures are attracted to Wunder. When Ezra was banished from Nevermoor, there were no longer any Wundersmiths in there, and so WunSoc had to step up and find a way to cover for him. Meanwhile, Ezra, who still loves Nevermoor, establishes Squall Industries, partially to improve conditions in the Republic and partially to provide a bigger, brighter beacon of wunder to attract the majority of the dangerous creatures to a place where he could still handle them. In this same thought, the Hunt of Smoke and Shadow werent something he created, but a group of these dangerous creatures that he managed to tame.

On the same subject are the other cursed children, those who, gather wunder but are unfortunately dont have the gift to control it. The creatures of the darkness, who chase wunder, hunt down these children to take the wunderous energy from them, which they dont survive. Ezra does his best in this situation, but one man can only do so much, and the creatures are relentless.

When he first discovers Morrigan, he's not exactly sure what to do. He tries to just get her as an apprentice through the usual means in the republic, but after a certain mad ginger got in the way he sent the Hunt after her, himself being busy trying to help the other cursed children, but we all know that that attempt didnt work. Ezra, knowing about the wunder critical-mass gather-too-much-without-using-it-makes-bad-things-happen thing, so he used the gossamer to get back into Nevermoor.

Having to enter and view Nevermoor again, even though not physically, took a bit of a toll on him, plus having to interact with someone new while being himself, which is not something he's had to do in a long time. He's also never, had to teach anyone before.

From there, I imagine he goes from frustrated and angry, to irritated but starting to get attached to Mog, to actually being a genuinely good teacher (aka the floof you saw in my drawing, who doesnt sleep nearly enough but still tries his best to be a good person), who is Tired™ and also just as chaotic as Jupiter when he wants to be.

Thank you for listening to my ramble- I can happily expand on anything if anyone happens to like this train of thought. I have further specifics on, basically everything, but this is a solid overview.

[capricorn-stark]

Unexpected Encounters

pairing: dick grayson x reader, first encounter

warning: n/a

a/n: yeah I got nothing, pretty casual fic

part 2

Bludhaven was a city so miserable, it could give Gotham a run for its money any day of the week. 

You would know - after having lived in Gotham for most your life, only to end up relocating to Bludhaven for your job, you could whole-heartedly say that Bludhaven made you long for your dark, perpetually rain-drenched city. The place was practically like Gotham’s Crime Alley - if Crime Alley had been expanded to a house an entire city of people.

One of the biggest differences between the two, however, was that there was no silent guardian preventing the crime rate from steadily crawling upwards with each passing hour, no Dark Knight in the form of some stranger dressed up in a bat costume to save his citizens from killer clowns and watered-down furries in penguin costumes. In Bludhaven, you would simply manage to survive on your own, or you would get mugged and end up at the bottom of its polluted harbor for some poor soul to find weeks later. 

And that was simply how life was. 

Granted, those kind of thoughts definitely were not offering you comfort as you walked down the streets of Bludhaven yourself, keys between your fingers and the feel of your gun concealed in your other hand as you kept carefully drifting beneath the lights of the dying streetlamps, cautious of directing any sort of attention to yourself. You had missed your bus home after working a bit too late, and you couldn’t exactly wait around for the next one to arrive in another two hours. 

Luckily for you, you saw no real dangers tonight. 

Maybe, for once, it would be a quiet trip home. 

Naturally, you were immediately proven wrong.

You were a generally cautious person, as anyone who grew up in a city like Gotham had to be in order to survive there at all. You were careful of your surroundings, who you talked to, who you ran into, and where you walked. You were in no way stupid enough to go into a random alleyway because it just so happened to be a conveniently located “short-cut”. Ever.

You were smarter than that.

But you hadn’t noticed the presence of a man in a dark and worn hood trailing behind you for what, as far as you knew, could’ve been quite some time now, formerly concealed in the crowds you had walked through. He was only a few feet away from you now, his steps quickening ever so slightly when he noticed you catching sight of him in the window of a passing store. You remembered that you had seen that same man nearly five minutes prior a few blocks before. 

That, as anyone could’ve guessed, was definitely not a good sign. 

The crowds were thinning as you edged closer to your part of the city, fewer and fewer people lining the stores and alleys, with even fewer who looked like they would help you if you happened to need it. You couldn’t exactly dart into the nearest corner store and expect him to leave you alone, there was a much higher chance of him simply leaving your line of sight altogether and reappearing when you finally stepped outside. If you tried to book it, you were more than certain that a man that size could easily catch up.

The last option you had was a confrontation, but living in places like this for as long as you had, you were sure it could escalate immediately and leave you in a much, much worse situation. You had a gun, but you couldn’t gauge how effective it would be if he happened to have one himself, and this was Bludhaven. 

Everyone had a gun.

So, all your options were bad. You felt your grip around your gun tighten anyways as you walked faster, cursing under your breath as you noticed him doing the same behind you. Your heart was racing now, breath quickening as you tried to tell yourself that you were almost home, that you just had one more block to go before- 

“Excuse me, ma’am. Are you alright?” 

You looked up at the source of the new voice that had gotten you to stop in your tracks and meet a pair of bright blue eyes. The man in front of you offered you a reassuring smile as he tapped the badge on his uniform.

Bludhaven Police Department. 

“Someone bothering you?”

You turned your head to look back at where the man following you had been, only to feel a chill run down your spine as you realized he had disappeared into the shadows of the city, as if he hadn’t been there at all.

“I thought-” You cut yourself off, still staring at the people milling around left and right. “I thought there was someone-” He seemed to notice how shaken you were immediately, tearing his gaze away from the crowd and finally settling back to you, lips curving into another soft smile. Despite everything, it was strangely comforting to see.

“If it makes you feel better, I can walk you to your destination.” You couldn’t bring yourself to decline when your heart was still racing in your chest, so you managed a nod. The man pulled his jacket around him as he moved to fall into step alongside you after one last look into the crowds. “You’re sure you’re alright?” 

“Yeah, I am now,” you brushed off, wrapping your own jacket a little closer around your body as you made yourself fixate your gaze on the path ahead. Your fingers were hurting from the previous clutch of your keys. The gun had finally been fully tucked away. “Thanks, Detective-” You cut yourself off to get a closer look at his ID. “Grayson?” 

“Richard,” he offered with another smile, glancing at you in turn. “Well, I go by Dick, but-” he caught sight of your expression and laughed, shaking his head. “Richard’s fine, too.” You felt your face burn red and you tried to clear your throat.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s all good, I get it a lot. Can I ask for yours?” You chuckled a little before introducing yourself to him, shaking your head dismissively when he commented that it suited you. 

“Am I making you leave your post or something?” Dick waved that off immediately, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“Nah, I’m just patrolling this area tonight. I was about to head into the café down the street for some coffee when I saw you, and I thought you seemed a little alarmed.” His tone was even but kind, and it was easy for you to tell that he had been in this type of situation a million times before. “If you need anything, medical assistance, filing a report, I can take care of that.” 

You nodded slightly again, taking another deep breath as you felt your panic finally subside. His presence was comforting, and you were glad he was with you for the rest of the walk home. You still couldn’t bring yourself to think about what might’ve happened if he hadn’t shown up. 

You wouldn’t be missing the bus again any time soon, that was certain.

“I was just surprised,” you finally started, feeling a twinge of embarrassment creep up your face for no apparent reason. As if you were the one who should’ve been more careful. “I didn’t see him - I guess I wasn’t as careful as I thought I was.” 

“Don’t think that’s on you, because it wasn’t your fault,” he started at once, apparently having been able to read your mind. “Creeps like that are running around all over this place, you can’t expect to see all of them coming. I’m just glad you’re alright.” You nodded again, pulling the jacket a little tighter before you sneaked another glance up at him. 

You hadn’t exactly seen much of what he looked like beneath the dingy light of the streetlamps, but as you edged towards your apartment complex, you could finally see his face beneath the brighter lighting. 

You noticed the striking blue eyes first, of course, accompanied by strong, defined features, jet black hair, and a surprising look of youthfulness despite the fact that he had sounded like he’d be a bit older. The light crinkles by his eyes told you he was the kind of person who tended to smile a lot. 

Clearly, he was very, very handsome.

“I’m actually pretty new to this whole gig,” he commented as he scanned around the street you were on, snapping you out of your not-so subtle staring. “Moved from Gotham a few months ago, found a job with the BDP. They definitely appreciated having new hires around, with the state this city’s in.” 

“So did I,” you blurted out in surprise, causing him to raise a brow at you. “Not working with the BDP - but I moved here a few months ago, too, from Gotham. I lived there my whole life.” 

“Well, look at that,” he laughed, seeming rather incredulous but certainly pleased at the finding. “I guess we have that in common. Some move, huh, thinking Gotham’s about as bad it gets before getting smacked with Bludhaven?” You actually laughed at that in turn, nodding in agreement.

“No super-people flying around to save the place, either. Tragic.” 

“I’m sure one’s gonna show up around here eventually,” he dismissed, following you when you motioned towards your building in the distance. “If there’s any place that needs some of them around, it’s here.”

“As what, Bludhaven’s version of Batman?” you deadpanned, imagining what things would be like if another man in a bat costume started running around and beating up street-thugs. At least the crime rates might dip. “As long as he doesn’t come with more psychotic clowns, I guess we could use one. Even if that means changing my insurance plan to fit him in.” 

“Better safe than sorry,” Dick agreed, corners of his lips twitching into another almost mischievous grin that caused your face to redden in the dark. “Doesn’t have to be another Batman, maybe it’ll be someone new.”

“As long as they take care of the city, I think I won’t care who it is,” you decided with another light chuckle, stopping in front of your building and looking up at him. “I just hope they’ll be cut out for the job.” He stopped in front of you with another smile, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. 

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see, huh?” You found yourself mirroring the action, feeling rather amused by the statement.

“I guess we will.”

The brief moment of silence between you was interrupted by him clearing his throat, moving to grab the handle of the door for you at the same time you tried to do it yourself, ending with the both of you promptly colliding apologizing profusely while backing away from the door altogether. 

“Sorry, I didn’t - sorry-” he cut himself off by reaching out to pull the door open for you again with an awkward laugh, not unlike your own. “I hope I’ll see you around here on a better note,” Dick finalized with one last apologetic grin, letting you slip past him and into the building. 

“You mean when I’m not speed-walking away from creeps running around Bludhaven?” you chuckled in response, shouldering your bag off-handedly. “Definitely, I agree. Thank you, Dick.” 

He made a show of dramatically tipping his hat towards you before turning on his heel, still smiling to himself. 

“Pleasure’s mine.” 

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “The Veil.”

More things are slowly being revealed about my universe, and I hope you like it. This was an interesting exercise in writing. 

Deus

...

Adam freezes in place.

The red mist swells and churns around him as the monoliths tower high overhead.

The word echoes and repeats down the vast streetways and up into the high reaches of the cavernous spaces overhead blending with the moaning of creaking metal.

He turns in a sharp circle and immediately begins a broadcast to the ship, “Omen one this is admiral vir calling for immediate backup. I am not alone, I repeat, I am not alone.”

He got only static back.

Frozen in place and staring into the res haze, he becomes very unsettled as he notices a thickening in the clouds, great billowing resthat presses downward from above, covering the monoliths where they had once been rather visible.

He couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of him now, and hugs the wall tight with fear gripping his chest. He reaches down to his hip and unholsters the gun that is strapped there.

The advanced sensory systems in his gloves transfers the feeling of hard metal directly into his fingertips. He kept his finger outside the trigger guard, worries being jumpy would lead him to doing something stupid.

He looks up and sees nothing but resmist.

It continues to billow around his feet, and now it is getting hard to see his hands.

He presses his back against the wall as he scoots back in the direction he had come following the map on his wrist indicator.

The Geiger counter on his wrist blinks to life and inside his helmet he begins hearing the slow rattling clicks as he is given an audio indication of the radiation. It seems to be rolling in with the fog.

That hardly makes sense as he hasn’t been detecting any hint of radiation before this, but he supposes small concentrations of smoke is nothing like the billowing mist that now surrounds him. He keeps his back against the wall as the clicking grows faster.

The radiation is rising, though he isn’t much worried about its effects on him. The suit was designed to withstand radiation in the direct light of a star, so it doesn't much concern him.

What concerns him is the slowly invading ressmoke, and how he can no longer see his own hand in front of his face.

His breathing comes hard and fast inside his helmet creating a surprisingly humid environment inside the climate controllessuit.

He turns off all of his lights as the billowing smoke keeps interfering with his line of sight, and he has a horrible feeling that the light is only giving him a halo effect, and making him more obvious to whatever could be watching him.

That voice hasn’t spoken in some minutes, and in a way he almost begins to believe that it was some sort of hallucination. Perhaps it was all a figment of a torturesimagination on a strange alien world, and nothing was watching him after all. Maybeit was some sort of auditory hallucination brought on by an imbalance of atmosphere inside his suit.

He looks down to check his wrist indicator, but pauses halfway there. If that isn’t the case, he isn’t sure he wants to know. The thought of the voice being real scares him more than he would like to admit, so he stays quiet and keeps his way along the wall.

If he can just make it back to his ship, then he knows he ill be fine.

He feels better in the air than he does on the ground after all.

He is a pilot, and any issues he could run into while in the air are things than he is comfortable dealing with.

He has reached the edge of the monolith now, feeling it’s cold steel pressing against his back.

The red mist swirls before him so thick that the scattered light reaching through to him is no better than the last fingers of twilight.

He stares into the abyss.

He is breathing hard and his fingers tingle inside his gloves with his back pressed against the wall.

He takes a deep breath glancing quickly down the side passage as he hears a deep and low groaning. He knows it is probably just the metal monoliths creaking overhead, but he can’t help but think about the Ancient Greek Labyrinth and the minotaur that wandered it's corridors.

Quickly,he kicks the gravity fields on his boots to life,and presses back against the wall in preparation to launch himself forward into the mist.

He is just readying himself to push off the wall when...

Suddenly his fingers are touching nothing.

His breath catches in his throat, cutting off a scream as he silent pitches backwards into darkness.

His hands flail and his feet kick for a second before a hard impact reverberates through his suit, knocking the wind from his body.

His vision is completely obscured by blackness.

He can’t breath.

Adam rolls onto his side gasping and choking mouth opening and closing like a fish as his stunned diaphragm struggles to take in air.

A warning light on his suit begins going off as his blood oxygen content takes a sharp downward spike.

He rocks from ide to side in a panic trying to find his breath again, and finally gasps in a loud wheeze of air.

The warning light in his suit slows down before finally stopping.

He lays on his side in the darkness gasping and taking long, slow deep breaths groaning slightly as he regains his breath. The suit’s warning lights fade and then vanish.

He is left alone in the dark breathing heavily.

Adam rolls onto his stomach and then onto his hands and knees. The sensors in the suit’s gloves can detect the hard smoothness of the metal under his hands. He doesn’t see anything else at first, and is about to turn on his lights when a soft resglow begins out of the darkness. At first, he thinks it is just a hallucination or his imagination like he assumes the voice had.

But the light continues to grow, and, as it does, others join it. 

A hundresmaye even be a thousand glowing resorbs about the size of his fist or a little bit bigger.

They line the hallway before him clustered on the walls and on the floor in groups that reminde him, not so comfortingly, of alien parasitic spores from popular science fiction.

He tries to crawl backward, but his foot hit something hard, and he turns to find a dark metal surface slick and impenetrable lit up by reslight.

He swallowes hard.

He was alone, 

He tries engaging his comm though nothing works, and he was simply left alone in the silence.

Inside his chest, his heart pounded, and he does his best to breathe slowly and evenly.

With some trepidation, he stands and begins forward into the hallway.

The one mission he had actually wanted to bring other people on, and he couldn’t. The shuttles were to clunky to handle an atmosphere like this and far too large to navigate all of the strange obstacles that he had spotted on his way down. It had been a one man job to make it here, and it looked like it was going to be a one man job getting out.

Sure the marines could take the pods down at his request, and they probably would if they receive his transmission, but he would rather they didn’t it is far too dangerous.

Red light spills in through his face mask and glows off his skin.

The little red orbs pulse slowly brighter and then fading away giving him the foreboding impression of a beating heart or blood rushing through veins. The very thought itself sends shivers up his back as he makes his way down the dark hallway.

He doesn’t realize it at first, but the expanse was much larger than he had thought, and the hallway in which he walks spannes quite wide, across a great entrance hall -- or so it seems to him.

As he walks, the hallway seems to morph until it is no more a hallway but a large room.

Pillars rise up at the center, covered in the clusters of little red pulsing orbs.

The room is massive, so large in fact, that he can barely make out the ceiling in the darkness aboe, it seems to rise up into the very tops of the monolith itself.

The vastness of the room makes him feel very small, but he continues walking, knowing there is no point in going back.

If he is going to find a way out, it is going to have to be forward.

His heart continues to hammer in his chest as he passes massive pillar by massive pillar.

Again he is struck by how large the room is, and consequently, the size of the pillars, which are larger than redwood trunks and spout the little red obs like barnacles sprout on the bottom of a boat.

He doesn’t realise it until he exits the forest of pillars that he has not even reached the center of the room yet. He is just at i’s fringes and now that the pillars are gone, he can see across the vastness of the room to where an alien structure stands dormant.

He shivers as soon as he sees it.

Whatever it is…. It is wrong…. alien …. And unknowable.

His eyes try to follow its outline, but make it only a few feet before becoming confused and going nowhere.

It is a mass tangle of metal, constructed like a strange alien protein or some kind of warped sea creature.

The more he looks at it, the more his eyes churn in confusion.

He tires to look away, but that doesn’t help much.

He shakes his head.

The weird tangled structure sits at the center of the room, all alone.

He wants to stay away from it, but at the same time he feels pulled towards it. He knows it is completely irrational, like all of the teenage girls in cheep horror movies going into the dark places instead of following their instincts.

He had always thought that those were unrealistic, but now he can see that he was wrong.

He understands the feeling as he is pulled across the open floor and towards the structure.

Like everything on this strange planet, he has immediately underestimated the size of the structure. As he grows closer, it towers over him, a massive twist of wicked metal swirls, infinite and completely unfathomable in the human eye. 

Its almost two, maybe even four stories tall, and stretches out far enough to completely encompass a small building or even a house.

His skin prickles.

The same feeling as if he is being watched.

He glances over his shoulder but sees nothing.

He then looks towards the structure wonderin if something could be hiding in it. Is it some sort of alien nest? Are hose things on the wall its offspring.

Is he going to die here.

He stands there for many minutes, unsure of what to do or where to go.

Where is he going to find a way out?

He turns back to the structure.

It sits quietly.

He shivers.

Its a strange feeling, it seems as if it is watching him, in the same way a person watches you or an animal, but as if you know that the animal can speak but is simply choosing to withhold that ability.

Like it was being INTENTIONALLY silent.

He takes a step back but stops.

Krill would kill him if he knew.

He always warned adam against the kind of impulses he is getting now, but he cant seem to help himself.

Before he knows what he is doing, he reaches out a hand his fingers splayed wide as he reaches towards the strange object.

His fingers remble a little.

And then they make contact.

At first he feels nothing until a sensation registers through his gloves.

The object is soft…. And warm….

…

Organic

….

He only has a split second to register this feeling before he is assaulted by a force so powerful he can barely comprehend it.

Knocked out of his mind.

Completely out of space and time.

His vision is obscured by blackness, though he feels as if he is spinning, his body whirling repeatedly end over end in some sort of eternal cartwheel. Though he cannot see he can sense a void of eternal blackness all around him stretching out to infinity on all sides 

He cannot fathom how long he spins it could be a simple moment or it could have been a thousand years. His body does not register time in this palace, almost as if there was no time to register.

He is simply a conscience in a void of eternal darkness. 

And then…. Light. 

All around him an eruption of light, a massive expansion outward that begins from everywhere and nowhere all at once. His vision is filled with blistering heat though there is no pain. He is simply enveloped by a wall of white. And where there once was eternal darkness, there is only light.

It fills his vision and spills through him like a river of molten gold, rushing through his veins with a wave of fire and ecstasy incomprehensible by the human mind: a feeling no drug could ever touch.

He can feel it burning at his fingertips and toes, pushing his skin till it seems to burst and light leaks out through the cracks.

He is one with the light.

Part of it.

Enveloped completely.

There is no time, and no space, just the burst of light.

Then before him the light begins to condense, collapsing inwards to show the darkness once more, but, this time, instead of just one or the other, the points of light cluster together on a backdrop of blackness, sharing the space neither one dominating over the other.

The light continues to unfold, curling outward like a swirling sinuous body before outstretching great wings of stars.At once it seems like a massive dragon is stretched across the sky before its silhouette fades and it is gone, its body fading backwards into the illuminating mass.

He can finally comprehend what he is seeing as he watches stars form inside fields of gas at billions of times the speed. He watches them swirl together in great spiraling forms.

His body is shot through space at what must be trillions of times faster than the speed of light, though it seems to be no more than a gentle float through the vastness,, passing by towering spirals of stars and gas making galaxies and trails of stars hung like ribbons. 

He reaches out a hand, feeling though not seeing and feels hot embers of flame across his fingers as he takes his hand through a field of stars causing them to burst away from each other like scattering dandelion fluff.

Infinity continues on below him and above him and to all sides of him.

The stars spin and so does his mind.

His thoughts are still even as they race, held together simply by the gravity of his own consciousness.

Stars take up his vision.

His mind can neither comprehend or begin to comprehend what he is seeing, but instead of confusion or collapsing inward on himself, he feels.

At home.

A warmth begins in his chest welling up into his throat and then behind his eyes. 

The relief of returning home after a long journey,

Of seeing loved ones again.

Of returning to ones childhood stomping grounds and lifting their head to the wind as memories come rushing back on the breeze.

He takes a deep breath, though there should be no air to breathe.

The vacuum of space has no hold on him.

He is immune.

Powerful.

He is carried across the universe pulled towards it’s edge watching as stars fly past on either side.

A pinprick of light, just like the others, and then it expands filling his vision.

His eyes widen as brightness envelops him, and he can sense something just beyond the veil of light.

He feels as if he could reach forward and cast the veil aside like a gossamer curtain.

And then.

Nothing.

The light stops, and he is no longer moving. The curtain seems to wave before him, and he can sense shapes beyond, or at least he swears he can.

He reaches out desperately.

But is pulled backwards.

His heart shatters.

Like a glass sculpture thrown to the ground with violent intensity The pain of it is immense and incomprehensible, and he doesn't understand why, which only makes the sensation all the worse, all the more confusing.

He is a child, lost and alone, left outside cold and alone.

Unprotected.

He is lost in a well of agony.

Until a soft voice.

You Are Not Ready 

The voice is, gentle, filled with concern, as if consoling a child.

It is not unkind, quite the opposite, and it acts upon him like the soft caress of a mother or father. Though he has no body, it almost feels as if he is enveloped, wrapped in protective arms, or a thick blanket during cold winter as the snow falls from above.

The veil fades back into darkness.

His body hurts for what he is leaving behind, but the arms lead him gently away, and where they touch he feels heat and light just as he did when approaching the barrier.

He can no longer understand what he is seeing.

Tears leak from his eyes, spilling outwards as points of white light to drip down and join the stars.

Then he stops moving.

Hands, gentle, and consoling cast him backwards to float out into space.

As soon as the fingertips are gone, the light vanishes with it.

He wants to stay.

He desperately wants to.

But the voice comes again.

You Are Not Ready.

And then blackness. The voice echoing in repeated circles around inside his head.

He hits the ground hard, and is knocked breathless for the second time. Eternity collapses in on itself back to a pinpoint focus so tight it seems claustrophobic and crushing.

He gasps for air feeling as if he is dying for a moment, though his body soon regains control over his own senses. The limited pinpoint of consciousness and sensation being his own, very limited body.

He is lying face down on cold metal, and the sensation of what he has lost wells up even more. He curls into a ball, his hands around his chest, knees brought up. Tears roll down his face and drip onto the screen of the helmet.

He sobs quietly, unable to control the overwhelming feeling that something profound and irreversible has been taken from him, though he doesn't know what.

Through his tears, and through the face screen he can see the swirling mist of red. The structure is gone and so is the monolith.

The ground rumbles below him though it is a distant thing, only a rattle.

He lays there for a long time as his consciousness slowly squeezes itself back inside his skull feeling confined and cramped in a sensation he would never be able to explain in words or in writing.

More vibrations though these ones are uneven.

“We found him!”

“Omen respond, we have found the admiral.”

“That doesn't make sense! How did he get here.”

“What do you mean.”

“This is nearly thirty miles from his last broadcasted position.”

The voices help him stitch his mind back into place.

A hand on his shoulder, barely noticeable through his space suit.

“Admiral, admiral can you hear me…..” he has forgotten where his mouth is, “Adam!” More mumbling voices, “His vitals are clear, heart rate is elevated, reparation elevated.”

“Picking up some abnormal cerebral activity curving towards normal.”

That’s Krill’s voice.

He remembers now.

“Adam.”

Ramirez?

Arms grab him around the chest and force him into a sitting position. His head lolls to the side.

A hand catches him and holds his head up. He leans heavily against Ramirez as he tries to remember how to move.

“Adam, can you hear me.”

A light passes through his mask and onto his face.

He cringes away from the light. It hurts much more than the other light he remembers.

“Come on, buddy, talk to me.” Ramirez pats the side of his helmet.

He blinks hard and takes a deep breath.

“Ramirez?”

“I’m here, I’m right here.” 

His tongue feels like lead and the insides of his mouth are coated in sandpaper. He coughs.

“Adam, what happened.”

His vision spins, “I…. I don’t remember I…. I was…. Inside, and then…”

“The monoliths collapsed, they just fell out of the sky and…. We thought you were dead.”

“But I…. I was inside and then…. And then I was everywhere.”

The marines looked at each other in some confusion.”

“Your GPS cut out almost ten hours ago and shortly after that the monoliths began falling from the sky and collapsing in on the structures. It was chaos, destroyed everything. And then an hour ago your GPS coordinates appeared here…. Did you walk?”

He looked up confused, “No…. I… I don’t know how I got here.”

“Someone get him up and into the shuttle. He probably hit his head in the collapse.”

“Good idea.”

Two marines moved forward and helped to drag him to his feet. 

His legs didn’t work, so they had to drag him to one of the ground shuttles and then back over the open planes of the planet before they were able to find an atmospheric opening that would allow a less experienced pilot to fly out.

His head continued to spin.

He stared down at the planet and it’s red haze as he was carried away.

In the back of his head a soft whisper.

You Are Not Ready 

[sp00kworm]

Trouble (Eric Northman x Reader)

Pairing: Eric Northman x Female Reader

ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN LINK

---

Trouble tended to follow people that entered Fangtasia. The name alone was enough to make your skin crawl. Old fashioned puns. Before the vampires had crawled from their seclusion and secrecy, it would have been a wise-crack of a name, given to some cheesy goth bar on the strip, trying to make a profit off of young adults who were into the scene. That or it would be some silly feature in a movie. You thought it was too tacky for an A-list as you peered up at the sign over the top of the entrance. Red flashing neon, blood drops dripping from the ‘F’ in the name. Someone had said it was popular for the irony. You knew it was because of the rumours of what happened in the back and toilets. Most of the men and women here were looking for the thrill of being with a vampire. Getting bit. Getting high off their blood. Vampiric blood as a drug was illegal, but you were more than certain that it didn’t stop the backhanded deals going on in the back. Despite that, despite being annoyed with all the garish shit plastered over the front and the gothic tacky theme, you were for this ability to mingle. Seeing genuine vampires and their human counterparts move into the bar, and for once in their lives, be able to be together without fear.

 Fear was maybe the only thing in your mind as your friend dragged you to the door. A blond vampire was stood in stiletto heels, her sharp brow raised as a smirk crawled over her pretty face. She was sharp at every angle, even down to the points of her teeth as her red lips curled back.

“I’m gonna have to ask for some ID.” She drawled, perfectly painted nails uncurling to present her palm, “It’s been a long time. I can’t tell age very well anymore.” The vampire sneered teasingly as you pulled your ID free from your purse. She took both yours and your friend’s in hand, peering at the pictures and yourselves before she returned them politely and took one step to the left, “Please. Enjoy yourselves.” She drawled with a lick to her fang, “Any trouble, just ask for Pam.” Blond hair whipped as she shot you both a wink over her shoulder. The men in line behind you didn’t receive such a nice treatment. Pam’s sweet drawl turned sharp when she turfed them out and away.

“Don’t you come back here with those vials, sweethearts! I’ll make sure to stick ‘em so far you’ll never find them again!” She snapped her teeth and laughed as they ran. You tried to take a deep breath as you headed inside the cool club and towards the bar tucked away to the side.

 “You never said this place was full of strippers too.” You complained as you ordered drinks for the two of you. The vampire bartender was polite, smiling with white teeth as he mixed your drinks and slid them over the wood, snatching the ten-dollar bill before sliding you back your change on top of two stamped coasters.

“Come on. I know it looks seedy, but people really are nice.” She complained before hiding your eyes from two people exchanging spit in the back, “He…He’s been so kind to me. I needed you here. This is the only place we can be seen together. In this bar.” The drink in her hand shook as she raised it to her lips, taking a long drink of the bourbon mixer.

With a sigh you smiled over your straw and took her other hand, squeezing it tightly in your grasp, “And I’ll stay. I don’t want you getting screwed over by a human or a vampire.” You promised as she pulled her phone out and smiled, perking up and looking around as a young-looking man skulked into the door. Her smile only got brighter, and his own with it, and you nodded before bowing out, moving away enough to give them privacy, smiling over your drink as the two of them laughed in the corner, unseen and ignored where finally, they could be normal.

 A human on their own, however, was more than fair game within a bar full of vampires. You watched the male dancer move his way over a table, his ass pressed to the pole as his hyper fast movements paused for a long grind. His fangs glinted as you watched, dark hair stylized. With a huff you turned back to your drink and swirled the ice as the vampire laughed and turned his scary, graceful movements back towards the crowd that would pay, leather trousers rippling but never making a sound.

“You know its best not to be alone in here.” The bartender offered with a curious turn of his head, dark hair falling over his shoulder, “I just make the drinks. But it never ends well if you stay too long.” He offered darkly before nodding at your drink, “Better if you don’t have many more of those either.” Still, he mixed you another before moving down the bar, towel over his shoulder.

Another voice followed behind you, purring with delight, “Humans that are alone don’t last long here.” It was Pam, her red nails curling over your shoulder as she shuffled into the seat next to you, “But I know you’re here for…” She waved boredly, “Moral support for your little love bird friends. I’ve been keeping the vultures away, at least for now, but you’ll have to leave soon pretty thing. They get hungry quickly.” With a sharp smile she was gone again, blond updo flitting through grinding bodies. The bartender laughed a dark chuckle at your full glass and once more you were left alone with your thoughts, hoping that your friend would let you go home soon.

 It wasn’t going to happen. You gathered your purse and paid the bartender for the drinks before shooting a message to your friend. She peered up worriedly as you waved to the bartender and walked through the crowd, towards the door. The bodies seemed to glide effortlessly, much like the dancers, yet many humans danced between the gyrating vampires, drunk and indulging in the vampire’s hypnotising eyes. You kept your head down as you moved past the edge of the bar and towards the vampire bouncers guarding the peace at the door. They didn’t stop you however, a hand on your elbow did.

Pam’s red nails swirled around the crux of your elbow, pressing deep into the skin as she smiled at your side, “Now, now, no need to fright sweet thing.” She drawled, stroking a lock of blond hair behind her ear as she leaned over in her heels, the black leather of her dress brushing against you, “A different kind of vulture wants your attention.” Pam’s red lips popped against your ear, “But he’s a much nicer sort, that I can promise you…Well…” Her eyes looked you up and down as she steered you back around by the shoulders, “If you play nice that is.” Her lips spread in another smirk at the rumbling of your phone in your hand. You caught sight of your friend getting up from her seat worriedly, her vampire companion snapping her back down with a hushed word against her ear as you were steered through the crowd.

 How you hadn’t noticed the throne on a stage was a mystery. Bodies parted as you were coaxed to stand at the side of the platform, worriedly clutching your bag strap. Pam’s heels clicked as she ascended the stairs. Even more amazing was how you hadn’t noticed the oldest creature in the room looming on top of the throne, his legs thrown up on a velvet foot stool, eyes focused on a small phone in his hand as he ignored the crowds like they were worth nothing to him. Peasants to a Lord. Maybe that was the best analogy. He didn’t pay attention to you as Pam leaned over by his ear, fangs hidden as she whispered quiet enough to not be heard over the music by other vampires. Cold, old, blue eyes looked up from the flip phone in his hand, gaze fixed on your form as Pam leaned back away from his ear. She smirked to herself, like a cat proud of her little catch, and sauntered back down the stairs, heels snapping against the cold floor as she turned to find herself something entertaining for the evening. The blond vampire turned his eyes from her to you again, snapping the phone shut before he curled a single finger in your direction. Pam’s eyes were heavy on you from her corner as she watched you swallow, the nervousness of a human boiling violently under the surface as you looked at the stairs, clutched your bag tighter, and dared to take them.

 Your legs felt heavier and heavier as you took the stairs up to the platform stage, the old vampire’s eyes following your movements like a hawk. With another flick of his wrist, he dropped his phone onto the table next to him and crossed his ankles on top of his stool. Somehow, he looked a lot less threatening with his squeaky polished shoes. The shirt was open far too low to be considered proper, yet he wore the tight jeans and a dress jacket over the top, a chain dipping low into the cleavage of his sculpted chest. You stood by the stairs as he took you in, tight outfit, choker and all. Dressed to enter his bar, but something about you not quite fitting in with the rest of the vampire lackeys crowding the large room. A sharp smile cut his face before he curled a finger again, egging you to come closer, “I can’t speak to you all the way over there.” He didn’t drawl like other members of the bar, his accent foreign and unplaced among the Louisiana drawls. You swallowed, and he smirked wider, but you took the final steps towards his lounging place, “There. That’s better isn’t it?”

Finding your voice was difficult in the face of the smirking vampire but eventually you managed to get your vocal chords to work, “I’m sorry to ask, but why do you want to speak to me?”

 The blond smirked wider, running his fingers over the arms of his chair, “I don’t think I gave you permission to speak but I appreciate an air breather with manners. So few of you know where you stand.” He linked his fingers over his lap and smiled a smile of ill intention, “Pam thought you might be of interest, since you enjoy agitating the vultures around here so much.” He pointed at the choker around your neck, “Hiding silver underneath there. Very creative of you.” His teeth turned sharp with a movement of his jaw, fangs snapping, “But incredibly rude. None of my clientele are inclined to touch those who don’t want it.”

You swallowed your fear again, “I’m sorry. I’ve heard things about this place…” The fear settled in your gut and squirmed violently, prompting you to say stupid things, “What’s your name if you…”

The vampire laughed, give chest bobbing with the unnatural expulsion of air he didn’t need, “I’ve never been asked that like this. You really are odd.” His smile grew wider, “Eric. I own this bar.”

“Eric… Well its nice to meet you?” You felt sweat drip down your back.

Eric smiled with sharp fangs, “Nice?” He hummed, getting more comfortable in his chair, “I would not call this meeting ‘nice’.”

 A finger raised to point at the silver laced choker around your neck, “Take that off. Its insulting.” He commanded with a head rested on his fist, watching you fumble with the buckle, revealing the tight, thing silver chain wrapped underneath it, “Very creative. Take that off too.” Eric droned, snapping open his phone again to look at a message before he tossed it back to the side and admired the unmarked column of your throat. He tilted his head curiously, “So if you’re not here to get your rocks off, so to speak, why are you here at all?”

The burning question. That was why the leather clad creatures were all staring, and you knew it. Your eyes dared not to look at your friends huddled in the corner as you replied, “I came to support a friend. She met the vampire she’d been talking to for a while tonight.” The words felt a bit pathetic as you choked them out, “She didn’t want him to…be a fraud. She loves him I think. I didn’t want her to get…”

“Eaten for it?” Eric offered with a smirk, tapping his fingers together over his hips, “That is maybe what most of your kind comes here for, is it not? She was…brave for doing this. But that maybe makes you stupid for coming into the wolf den with her.”

“Is this an interrogation or are you just bored, Eric…Sir.” You could have shot yourself and been less scared in that moment.

 Wild eyes looked at you then, ready to snap you in half if you gave him much more of a reason, “What was that?” He asked before laughing quietly, teeth clenched in the most unfriendly smile you had ever laid eyes on, “Do I need a reason to ask why you’re in my bar?” He leaned forwards, taking his feet from the stool, the soles snapping against the stage before he pushed his hands against the arms, leaning forwards to get close enough to snap his teeth at your trousers, “I’m Sheriff of this area, little girl. My word is law. So, I’ll ask you again.” Eric drew back into his seat and watched you squirm with a little more delight than he would ever admit, “What are you doing in my bar?”

He could glamour you. You understood that. He could do it with a snap of his fingers and have you begging for anything he wished upon your magic infused brain.

“Its like I said, Sheriff,” He hummed happily at the proper use of his title, “I came here to support my friend. Nothing else. I don’t have any ill intentions towards anyone. I came here to make sure she didn’t get fucked over.” You spread your arms out and sighed, “And if you glamour me, you’re going to get the same response, Sir.”

 The vampire looked up at you, watching you squirm under his gaze with curiosity equivalent to a cat snatching a mouse back repeatedly with claws hooked into its tail, “If I do glamour you, you won’t remember standing in front of me, never mind the reason why you are here snarking in front of me.” Eric’s smile turned dangerous as he trailed his gaze up over your legs, admiring them before he turned his fingers in a dismissive gesture, “If that’s all you’re here for then you can scuttle away. I have no need of a plaything tonight.” He crossed his ankles on his footstool once more and picked up his phone from the table, flicking it open to set back to whatever it was he was doing before entertaining himself with you.

“Well, it was a pleasure, Sheriff.” You tried to sound sincere as he watched you over the top of his ancient phone, tapping away at the keys at lightning speed as he replied to whatever was urgently awaiting his attention. His icy eyes watched you, hiding his smirk behind his phone as you awkwardly made your way back down the stairs and towards the door. Your friend and her lover followed you quickly.

 Eric grinned at the young vampire, knowing there was very little he would be able to do if Eric decided to have his own way. He wasn’t up for that tonight. He had a lot more pressing matters to attend to over playing with a human.

Pam was quick to make her way over once more, “Oh, you are feeling generous tonight, Eric.” She purred as she sat on the arm of his chair, “I’m pretty sure you have a free night? Why lie to such a nice piece of ass?” She drawled, admiring her freshly painted nails as Eric snapped his phone shut and watched the edge of the stage with boredom.

“I don’t always want to eat whatever walks into my lap, Pamela.” He teased as he listened to the annoying ancient ring tone of his phone but ignoring it, “She’ll be back.” He promised with a smirk, “You don’t wear push-up bras if you don’t want some kind of attention.”

Pam scoffed over on his right, a sharp eyebrow quirked in irritation, “A girl don’t gotta wear anything to impress a man. She was here for herself, Eric, not everything is a vie for your attention.” She tucked a stray curl over her ear and moved to stand, “You might as well chase her. She won’t be back without that little friend of hers.” Pam took the stairs and slinked into the crowd leaving Eric to smirk at his phone.

 Avoiding Fangtasia was easy. Your friend and her newly turned lover were comfortable being seen after that. After the upheaval of the royalty and the turbulence that followed, vampires were much more well known. Out of the coffin for numerous years. They were more accepted than ever, despite their eating habits. The tacky lighting was no different, even a year on. Your friend and her lover cooed from beside you as you all entered, the bouncers waving you in instantly. Arm through Derrick’s you shuddered at the coldness of his skin until he released you with an awkward smile by the bar, looking to your friend with a look you could only describe as love.

“I’m sorry she dragged you here, sweet thang.” He drawled, tipping the hat he had on with He drawled, tipping the hat he had on with He drawled, tipping the hat he had on with his eyes hidden awkwardly, “I don’t think she’s used to this sort of stuff still.”

With a snort you laughed at the young vampire

With a snort, you laughed at the young vampire, “Don’t worry about it. Sometimes I just think she misses seeing people.” You patted the vampire’s arm before moving away to order a drink. It was a new bartender, yet he accepted your order and whipped it up in record time, sliding it along the bar before winking and turning to his other customers.

 You ignored the cold stare on your back as you sipped your drink quietly by the bar. It was quiet in the bar for a while and you listened to Derrick drawl in the corner before a cold hand slipped over your shoulder. Black nails curled into your blouse.

“Well hello again.” Pam purred behind you, leaning into the seat next to you with a smile, not entirely dangerous, “I didn’t think we would ever see you again.” She hummed as she leaned on the bar top, “I thought Eric had scared you off for good after his interrogation.”

You took a rather large gulp of your drink, “Well, I just can’t say no to my friend it seems.” You joked half-heartedly as Pam licked her top lip.

“Well, if you’re looking for something else…” She trailed her nails over the bar, “I’m sure I can help you out. Not all of us want brutish men. I understand that.” Sharp black nails tapped in front of your drink before she smiled and waved them by her side, “But, Eric wants to see you, despite leaving him high and dry for…hmmm…A year? He might have quite a few words for you.” The vampire leaned over and flashed fang at a collared girl, “He’s waiting, girlie. Don’t make him any more upset.”

 You turned to avoid having to look at Pam lick her lips anymore and stood with a scowl at the Sheriff leaned over in his chair. Bright, icy eyes looked at you intensely as you took your drink and walked through the crowd, the choker around your neck not laced with silver this time. As you approached the edge of the stage you watched Eric stand and fasten the button on his silver jacket before he descended the stairs and was instantly by your side, a rush of air following him before a cool hand pressed to the small of your back.

“Hello there, darling.” Eric whispered as he dragged you through the crowd, a firm hand pressed to your back after the rushing spin of him turning you around in the opposite direction. Eric made his presence at your side well known; head held high as he directed you towards a door labelled as ‘staff only'.

“Hello, Sheriff...What seems to be the occasion?” You asked as you stepped through the door. Eric held it open for you. It was his small office. The decor was old fashioned, minimal in a way that told you he didn’t care for it, “This better not be a booty call because I’m going to have to disappoint you.”

Fangs flashed near your ear as he shut the door, whisking past you towards his chair, “No. This isn’t a booty call.” He leaned back and perched back on his bottom to prop his feet up on the desk, “This is actually more of an interview.” A pleasant white smile met your eyes as he linked his fingers on his lap and watched you grow suspicious.

 “A job?” You gave him a scowl, “Why the fuck would I need a job from you? And for a matter of fact, why the fuck would I want a job as a hooker in your sleezy bar?” You spat the words at him, the smirk on his face making you even angrier.

“Now now, pumpkin. There’s no need for the language.” In a blur Eric had you by the arm, grappled in his grasp, mouth close to your neck as he threatened your pulse with a tight grip, “And that is no way to speak to me.” He hissed behind the words before letting you go with another snap of his pale hands, “It’s a bartending job.”

You felt relief flood through you before you looked at his desk, “You have a contract already drawn up? What is wrong with you, Sheriff Northman?” You snarked as you plonked yourself across from him.

The vampire rolled his shoulders as he paced back to his seat, “I’m getting what I want.” He mused before sighing, “No perfume, lack of cosmetics. Its all telling. I know you lost your job. This is a good way out, plus,” He leaned back in his seat, “Its better than minimum wage, sweetheart.”

 You looked at the paper and felt your stomach flipflop, looking at the devil with fangs sat in a designer suit before you glanced back at the paper, “Holy shit! That’s a lot more than minimum wage.” You peered at the figure before looking at the smug vampire perched behind his desk, “You promise this isn’t going to fuck me over?”

Eric tilted his head, “I wouldn’t mind fucking you over…”

“Don’t.” You held up your hand, “Don’t finish that sentence, Mister Northman.” You reached for the pen between his fingers and snatched at it.

Eric held it back, “Are you sure you’ve read the small print?”

With a grumble you held the paper up and read over the fine print, “Really? Only two weeks holiday? That’s gotta be against all kinds of regulations!” You hissed.

“It includes public holidays, those are just the days on top of that.” He smiled pleasantly as you snatched the pen and signed your name at the bottom.

“When do I start?” You asked as he took the paper between two fingers.

With a grumble he looked you over and smiled, “Right now. We’re short staffed.” In a blur of movement Eric moved. You squawked as a stinging slap landed over your ass cheeks, “Now get out there and show me I’m not wasting my money.”

[craby-bouquet]

잠자리 - 1.2 : Numinous

I’m half living my life between reality and fantasy at all times.— Lady Gaga

~ Part 2 ~

Kwon Soonyoung x Female reader

Fantasy!AU, Romantic Comedy, Royal!AU

7k words

Masterlist | Seventeen masterlist  |  잠자리 masterlist

1.1| 1.2 | 2.1 | 2.2 | 2.3 | 2.4 | 3.1

You had been strolling around town and in the forest surrounding it for who knew how long, kicking tiny rocks and sticks, softly slapping trees and walls. The town was awfully silent this late at night, you wondered if anyone was still awake, if your parents had noticed your absence, if they cared at all. And your thoughts bend to Soonyoung. Would he still be awake? He was a strange man, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was still up. 

You had been friends for years and there was still so much you didn’t know about him, so much mystery behind his eyes. You didn’t even know where he lived, you had never met his parents. You hadn’t thought about it much, but suddenly that all seemed pretty strange. If you had known where he lived, you would have visited him, asked him if you could stay the night.

You stopped walking and looked up. There was no cloud to be spotted, the moon was full and the stars were clearly visible. You were standing in the forest, away from the lights of the town, surrounded by darkness. So the stars shone brighter than ever before.

When you looked back down, you took a hurried step back at what you saw on the ground in front of you.

A white snake, bright and tender looking, was staring up at you. It’s eyes looked weird, too smart, like it knew exactly what it was looking at. It didn’t look scary, you weren’t afraid of it at all, but it seemed so out of place here. A brightly white snake, in a dark forest, the light of the moon reflecting off its scales.

You squatted down, wrapping your arms around your knees “Hello little guy…” you greeted the snake. 

It hissed back at you.

“Have you escaped too?”

It didn’t say anything, obviously.

“Me too…” You sighed “I did something stupid, and now I’m in trouble. You see, I’m afraid I can’t go home tonight, my dad’s very angry at me… I don’t blame him.”

You let out a soft chuckle, you were really talking to a snake, surely you had gone crazy “But what are you gonna do about it, right?” you stroke your finger on its head, causing it to close its eyes.

You stood up again “Well, goodbye.” you said before walking away. You remembered there was still an unsolved mystery you had to uncover.

As soon as you got to the shed beside the lake you cursed out loud. No one had turned off the fog machine, so it was super misty. You ran over to the power plug and pulled it out. To your surprise, the boat was here. Not on the other side of the lake, but right here, in the same place you pushed it away from. It must have come back on its own, or whomever had been in it must have brought it back. 

Who had been in it? That was the big question that had been circling around your head the whole night. At first you thought you had imagined the person standing inside it, but when your mother asked about it you knew she had been there. Really been there. But how? Who? You had never believed the ghost story, you always thought people were just being weird, wanted to have something special to this town and made up some sort of legend. But you really did see her.

You opened the door of the shed, your eyes immediately shifting to the mattress, afraid someone might be on it. But there was no one. You sighed relieved, you had been really afraid of someone being there. 

You walked around the shed, not sure what you were looking for, but kind of hoping you would find something that would tell you the lady of shadow was just a human pretending to be a ghost. Someone who wanted to scare everyone.

The sound of your phone ringing scared you, causing you to let out a yelp before taking it out your pocket. You looked at the caller ID, you had ignored several calls from both your parents, but this was Soonyoung. You held the phone to your ear.

“Hi.”

You heard him sigh relieved “Hello. Where are you?” 

You kept looking around the shed “Why?”

Silence. It took him a few seconds to answer “Well, your mom called me to tell me you ran away. And, you know, she’s never really called me before so I figured it was urgent.”

You rolled your eyes while pulling a curtain back “I’m fine. It’s not like I’m dead or anything.”

He chuckled “She sounded very worried…”

“Good.”

That made him laugh quite loud. You weren’t sure what he thought was funny exactly, you did know he was kind of pissing you off. Yet you were happy to talk with him. You felt alone, and you had missed him in this darkness.

“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” His voice was so sweet, almost like a song. Why had you never noticed that before?

“No. She doesn’t want me around anyway.”

“What makes you think that?”

You pouted, touching empty shelf where you and Soonyoung got the fog machine earlier this evening. It felt like it had been weeks since then.

“She’s never wanted me around. I’m just… trouble.” You didn’t manage to hide the pain in those words, you hoped he hadn’t noticed it.

He was quiet again, longer this time. It was clear he had very well heard the pain you felt and he was trying his best to find something he could say.

“She does care. So much.” he said slowly, softly “She sounded so extremely worried when she called me. She wouldn’t have been that worried if she didn’t care.”

You didn’t respond to that. You knew that, if you would say anything, your voice would crack, and give away the tear that streamed down your face. You hated this. All the feelings you had bottled up for years just seemed to come out tonight. How annoying.

“Please, just go home.” He begged “I’d feel a lot better knowing you were home safely… If you don’t want to go back for your mother, go back for me. Please.”

Your heart hurt, hearing his soft words “...Alright.”

“Thank you.” He seemed relieved.

As you walked out of the shed, phone back in your pocket, there was the white snake once again. You stopped and looked at it, smiling.

“Hi again,” you bowed down “I’m going home. So should you… It’s dangerous for you to be out here by yourself. If a person were to see you you wouldn’t survive it I’m afraid.” 

It slithered away. You looked at it leaving, and when it disappeared in the forest you took a deep breath and started walking in the direction of your house.

Even before you arrived at the garden of your house, you had decided to not use the front door. You didn’t want your parents to know you were home. You had been scolded enough for today, and you knew they wouldn’t let this slide. Luckily you knew that you left the window of your room open. You hadn’t slept in your room for so long, but the window was still slightly open. You also noticed light coming from your parent’s room. So they really weren’t sleeping yet.

You started climbing up the tree beside your bedroom window, you had done this often enough to know exactly where to put you hands and feet. You used to climb in and out all the time. 

The only downside to this was that you had to come uncomfortably close to your parent’s window. You were afraid they’d hear you anyway. But as you got closer you heard them talk.

“You… you can’t,” you heard your father say, “you promised him you wouldn’t.” 

You were confused. That line alone was strange enough to stop you from climbing on and instead stay where you were now to listen to their conversation.

You mother was crying, you heard her sob “I need to tell her… I have to.”

You father made an indifferent sound “I… don’t know. It just doesn’t seem like a good idea to me. He told us to wait until his sign and-”

“I’m losing her, Ben. I’m not gonna wait for him to ruin the relationship I have with my daughter. She needs to know.” 

She might not specifically have said this was about you, but you were quite sure they weren’t talking about Vera. If only you knew what they were talking about. If this was about you, you really had no clue what they meant with all that.

You father sighed “Are you sure? You want to go in against him?”

“Do I have a choice?” Her voice cracked “I can’t lose her.”

It was silent for a while. You weren’t sure if they were just looking at each other or if they both suddenly fell asleep.

“Do you have a way to let him know..?” Your father asked, softly, carefully.

“I’ll let him know after I tell her. When she gets back.”

“If she gets back.” 

Your mother let out a dull sounding chuckle “I called Soonyoung. It’s his job to keep her safe and sound. He probably gets her to come back… I just hope she… She wants to listen to me. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d ignore me from now on.”

“She won’t.” your father said, sounding as sure about it as he could be “I know she won’t.”

At that you decided to leave. The conversation wasn’t making much sense anyway, and it seemed to be over now. You didn’t want them to hear you, and if you heard your mother cry any longer, or heard her talk about her love for you, you were sure you wouldn’t be able to keep in the tears that had been stuck behind your eyes all night. It was time for you to go to bed.

You quietly climbed into your room, and left it through the door so you could climb upstairs to the attic. For a very brief moment, you considered going to your parents, letting them know you were home. But you decided against it anyway. Your day had been long enough.

You woke up a few hours later with a headache. Great. 

You felt a lot better than the night before though. Less tired, even though you hadn’t slept very well. 

And then you remembered what had happened the night before. The fight, the running away, the conversation you overheard. Suddenly you were afraid to go downstairs. You didn’t want to face your family. Not after running away and not letting them know when you got home. Or that you got home at all.

You gathered enough courage to go down, sooner or later you would have to face them anyway, you couldn’t just climb in and out of the window every day without them knowing you were home for forever. So you dressed in something comfortable and climbed down the attic's narrow staircase. Very carefully you opened the door and peeked your head out, to see if anyone was awake yet. The door to your parents room was open, so they must be downstairs already, and your sister was standing in her door opening. She leaned against the door post, inspecting her nails with a very uninterested face. For a brief moment you thought she hadn’t seen you and you could slip past her, but then she started talking.

“Great stunt you pulled.” 

You had no idea what she meant with that, but you did know she was being very sarcastic.

“Last night, I mean.” she turned her eyes, filled with fury, up to you “First the shadow lady thing, then running away and climbing in through the window? I’m impressed. I really didn’t think you could be even more of a nuisance.” 

You mouth fell open “Excuse me?”

Vera smiled, but her eyes stood as furious as before “You heard me. I honestly didn’t think you could get away with this one, but it turns out the perfect daughter managed to pull it off again. Without losing the pedestal you’re on I mean.” 

With those words she walked down stairs, leaving you in the hall, completely speechless. You couldn’t believe it. What on earth just happened?

Of course when you came down stairs too, she acted like it hadn’t just happened. She just went back to ignoring you. You used to complain about her acting like you didn’t exist, but you just now decided you liked her better with her mouth shut.

Your mother let out a yell when she saw you. She ran up to you and hugged you tightly. That reaction really shocked you, you had pissed her off so bad, ran away without telling anyone where you were, and she was happy to see you? Not mad, not annoyed, but happy?

“You scared me.” She said in your ear before kissing your cheek “I’m so glad you returned.” 

You frowned, not sure how to react “Goodmorning to you, too…” 

Even your dad looked up from his news paper “I’m glad to see you home safely. We were worried.” 

You were still frowning. This was not at all the reaction you had expected. 

“I’m sorry…” You said, still confused “For leaving I mean. I know I’m grounded and I shouldn’t have left.” 

“Oh, never mind that. You’re back now, that’s all that matters.”

Your frown deepened. Who was this woman, and what had she done to your mother?

“Why don’t you sit down, and I will make you breakfast.” She smiled and pulled back a chair for you to sit in.

“Thanks.”

Vera drank her milk faster than ever “I’m going out with friends. Don’t wait up for me.”

“Have fun, my love.” Your father said to her over his news paper.

“Yeah.” 

The whole time you ate, everything seemed out of place. Your mother and father talked happily with you. Completely avoiding what happened the day before and talking about school. Only talking about weird things they never talked about. Like how cute your outfit was today, and if you had nice dreams. Not usual breakfast conversations in this house.

Once you finished your breakfast, you were about to stand up when your mother grabbed your hand over the table. She smiled apologetically at you “There is… something we- no, I, need to tell you.”

You shrugged, not sitting down “Alright, shoot.”

She sighed, still smiling motherly “I think it’s better if you’d sit down.” 

This whole ordeal confused you. She was never like… this. Not to you nor to Vera. She was always stressed, always angry and annoyed by something. this was very unlike her.

“Are you okay, mom?” You asked without thinking.

This is when her smile disappeared “Yes, yes I am okay. I just… There’s something important I kept from you.” She looked at your father, he had put his newspaper away and took something from the breast pocket of his bathrobe. It looked like one of those boxes people keep rings in when they propose to someone, only a little bit bigger. He handed it to your mom, she took it from him with utmost care, but didn’t open it. She put it on the table in front of her, sighed very deep and looked up at you again.

“I’m not sure how to start this, so I’m going to improvise.” She whispered, mre to herself than to anyone else “I got this box from… your father.” she said with great emphasis.

You looked from her to you father “I… Yes, he just did, I saw that.” It’s not like you were blind or anything.

She shook her head “No, I mean your real father.”

The room got silent after that. Both your parents were looking at you, waiting for you to say something, anything. But you just frowned, confusion very clearly on your face.

“What do you mean?” You laughed nervously “I’m adopted?” 

Honestly, were she to answer yes you wouldn’t be surprised. You had always been different than everyone else in this family. But why had they kept it from you then?

Your parents looked at each other “Not… exactly.” 

You rubbed your forehead in confusion “Can you just explain it then? Stop turning around the point.”

Your mother’s eyes widened “Right. Of course, eh… Well. Before I met your father, well, Ben, I fell in love with someone else. An amazing man, so much about him was different then what I was used to. He was… spectacular, unpredictable, gentle, super handsome and funny. I fell so hard. And, well, he liked me a lot, too… So much that I got pregnant.” 

The way she said it it seemed like she got pregnant from just looking at the man, but you understood what she meant. You let her talk however. She scanned your face for your reaction, but you kept it as emotionless as possible.

“When I told him, he didn’t seem happy. I mean, he was delighted, but it was definitely a mix of feelings if you know what I mean. I mean, we barely knew one another, I understood that he wouldn’t want a child with a woman he didn’t even know. But… it turned out he had a different reason. At first I didn’t believe him, I thought he was making lame excuses, but then he showed me and I couldn’t not believe him.” She paused, thinking about the memory. There was so much emotion in the way she told the story. You could feel the love she once felt for the man.

“So?” you demanded ‘What was it?”

She sighed “He told me about a land, a different and magical world called Tír na nÓg. Filled with fairies and elves and saters and… well everything we know as myths and legends. And he is the king, Oberon. And he… he already had a queen, Titania…” her eyes turned sad “I didn’t know that. But they had an open relationship or something, I honestly don’t care about that, it didn’t matter anyway. What matters is he couldn’t stay, he couldn’t take care of you. He showed me his wings and pointy ears, his true self basically. And, since he was the king of Tír na nÓg, it would be dangerous for him to be the father he wanted to be. At least, until you’d get your powers. I’m not sure what that entails, but he told me to give you this when he’d tell me to give it to you. He didn’t tell me yet, but… I had to tell you now. Whether he wanted it or not.”

You frowned, not sure if you should believe what your mother just told you. The feeling of the hand on your shoulder, the same feeling you had last night on the pier, was back. You hit away whatever it was, even if it didn’t exist.

“So, you, Ben, you’re not my father?” you asked him.

He shook his head “Not biologically, no. Your mother and I fell in love when you were about 2 years old. I’ve been your father ever since.”

They both looked like this news would be more shocking to you than it actually was. For some reason you weren’t shocked that he wasn’t you father. The two of you couldn’t be more different. The rest of the story however…

“You expect me to believe my father is a fairy?” 

Your mother sighed “An elf. And I don’t, not really at least. But I want you to know that it’s the truth. Whether you believe it or not.” 

You couldn’t keep in your laughter as you once again hit the feeling of the hand on your shoulder away “An elf? And not just an elf, but the king of elves? Are you sure you’re doing okay mom? You don’t have a concussion or something?”

She smiled, clearly trying to hide how annoyed she was with you “I’m… definitely okay.”

You were starting to get angry with both her as with whatever was touching your shoulder the entire time, you cursed out loud as you, once more, hit the feeling away “And his name was Oberon? And his queen Titania? When you made this story up you couldn’t come up with more creative names? No you just straight up stole them from Shakespeare. Like I wouldn’t notice.” 

“Darling I know it’s… it’s hard to believe, but please, I’m telling you the truth.” 

You cursed at the feeling again “The truth? Right.”

“Just open the present from Oberon.”

You laughed sarcastically “Right, my daddy Oberon.” you hit the imaginary hand away again and opened the little box your mother pushed towards you. Inside was a necklace with a red gem in a circle, with a round opening in the middle.

“Great, a donut necklace.” You said, as you took it out of the box.

Your mother smiled at it “He said this would let you see the fairy creatures, even before you’d get the ability to see them yourself, and it would protect you.”

You frowned as you realized this necklace reminded you of something. You didn’t know of what, but you definitely had seen something like this before.

Your mother looked at it curiously “Will you please put it on? I want to know if it works and allows you to see the creatures.”

Suddenly you were scared. What if it was the truth? What would you see?

You decided to ignore the strange feeling from now on, rolled your eyes and hung the cord around your neck. At first nothing seemed to change. Then suddenly it started to burn on your skin. You squealed. But as soon as it started, the burning stopped again. Still you jumped up and took a few steps back. You knew what the feeling had been. Whose hand had been on your shoulder, and you weren’t sure if you were happy to know. 

A dude, skin whiter than paper, eyes redder than blood, fangs that reached all the way to his chin.

“Who are you?” you asked him.

He pouted “Awe, can you really see him now? Just as he was preparing his feast.”

“What? What can you see?” your mother asked, standing up.

You gestured to the vampire in front of you, he was literally right there, in front of her face “You seriously can’t see him? He’s right there!”

Your mother and father shook their heads.

The vampire laughed evil “No they can’t, and you couldn’t either. But before, you could feel Qadir. So he knew you were a dirty half-ling.”

Your eyes shifted through the room in confusion. Was this seriously happening?

And then he pouted “Qadir was planning to drink your yummy smelling blood, he was. But you kept slapping him away so he couldn’t get close enough. And now you’re wearing that.” His eyes looked down at the donut hanging from your neck “And now Qadir can’t get close to you. Stupid king and his curses, he is.”

“You… can’t touch me now?” you hesitantly asked. You felt like you were going crazy.

He shook his head “No, Qadir cannot drink the young ladies blood now, miss.” 

“Oh.” you stuck your nose in the air, this was… weird, right? At this point you weren’t sure. You kind of weren’t able to believe that someone so clearly here was invisible to your parents.

“So, if Oberon is the king, and he is my father, does that mean I’m the princess?” you directed this question to both your mother as to Qadir.

They both nodded with a smile on their face.

“Does that mean I can give you orders?” you asked the vampire.

His smile disappeared.

“I think that means ‘yes’, right? Then I order you to go back to your own world and leave humans alone.” You smiled smugly.

He grinned “You can order Qadir, but he won’t listen, no he won’t. But don’t worry, humans smell yukky. Qadir would never eat a yukky human.” he stuck out his tongue to empathize his disgust “You smell good, yes. The young princess smells like a feast indeed. But now that Qadir cannot eat the yummy princess, he has no business in stinky world of humans. So he will return to Tír na nÓg, he will. Fare thee well.” And with that he ran away, gracefully climbing through the small, open window above the door.

“Well?” your mother asked after a little while of you just staring at the front door “Did your order work?”

You seemed to get sucked back into reality “No. What just happened?”

Your mother looked curious “What was it? What kind of creature did your see?”

You shook your head as you slowly sat back down on the chair, subconsciously holding the donut gem in your hand “A vampire, I think.” 

Your mother gasped.

“But he said he couldn’t touch me because of this.”

“Do you believe me now? There’s a whole world no one knows about! Filled with fantasy creatures. And you’re a part of it!” Your mother beamed in her chair.

Your father, or not-father, cleared his throat “This is also one of the reasons you need to go to that school. Yes, the school is mostly in our world, and you mostly learn about our world, but there are classes about Tír na nÓg, too. That’s partly why you got the scholarship. You’re going to learn about the world, about your powers.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. That dumb, prestigious school was for fantasy people? People like you? If you had known that-

"I messed up, didn't I?" You bit the inside of your cheek as you thought about what you had done the night before. 'Do you think they’d want a trouble maker like me on their perfect school?' You heard the memory of yourself say. You hated yourself for pulling a stunt like that now. 

Your mother smiled "No. You see, the people from school came to us when you had left to discuss everything. They said that, though what you did certainly wasn't the kind of behavior they tolerate, you're still allowed to go to that school after summer vacation ends."

You surprised yourself with how relieved you were to hear that. Mere minutes ago you would have done anything to not go to that school, but if they really did have classes for magic things, how could you not go?

"So… the lessons I'm getting are all about, what was that world called? Tír na nÓg?" 

Your mother chuckled "Yeah, Tír na nÓg. And no, there are lessons about Tír na nÓg and it's creatures, but you're also doing the normal lessons. That people from this world get I mean."

You pouted "Can't I just do the Tír na nÓg lessons?"

Your mother laughed sarcastically "Nope. It's all or nothing."

You knew your answer to that immediately, but you acted like you had to think about it carefully. Then you nodded, to delight of your mother. 

"Alright then. I'll go to that school." In your wildest dreams you never thought you'd hear those words come from your mouth. 

Your parents looked at each other, relieved. Your father grabbed your mom's hand, lovingly stroking it with his thumb. Her mind seemed to be lost in thoughts, while at the same time looking relieved that you finally agreed on going. 

You stood up from your chair "Was this it?" You asked. 

Your mother nodded "Yeah, but be careful. I'll tell Oberon that you know."

You were beaming, you couldn't wait to tell Soonyoung that you were going to school anyway. You wondered what he would think. 

You rushed to the front door. 

"Wait, darling. One last thing. You can't tell anyone about the Tír na nÓg thing, alright?" Your mother asked with a super serious face. 

You rolled your eyes "Duh, of course not." You already were the weird one in town, talking about magic and fairy kings would only make you look more strange. Even Soonyoung would probably laugh at you then. 

You took out your phone and dialed his number while looking around for all the new things you would be able to spot now that you had the necklace. Not much seemed to have changed. 

“Hello?” Soonyoung picked up the phone.

“Hi, you busy?” You asked.

He sounded sleepy “No, not really…”

You chuckled at the absent sounding tone in his voice “You wanna hang at the playground?”

You stopped walking. There it was again, its big eyes looking up at you. The white bunny with antlers. Was it one of the creatures from Tír na nÓg? No, it couldn’t be. You saw it last night as well, and you didn’t have the necklace back then. 

You were lost in thoughts, the bunny just looking at you, nothing else. It didn’t even seem to know what it was looking at. 

“Hello?” Soonyoung pressed “Earth to-”

“Ah, I’m sorry…” you interrupted him “I thought I saw something.”

It was quiet on the other end of the line for a few seconds "...Okay. Anyway, I'll be there in a little bit. I bet you I can be there before you."

You laughed, walking away from the bunny without looking at it again "I'm already outside."

"Me too." He sang. 

That surprised you, he really did sound like he just woke up, you could barely believe he was already outside. 

"Alright well, I'll see you there then." You said before hanging up and rushing your way over to the playground. You completely forgot about seeing the bunny in your playful rush. 

Of course, he was already there when you arrived. You could see him from a distance, his white hair didn't ever go unnoticed. He was sitting on the swing set, his back turned to you. You stopped running. Something about him was… different. You couldn't quite put your finger on what it was, but something surely was off. 

As you walked closer, he noticed your footsteps and turned around, brightly smiling like he always did. But everything suddenly seemed different. 

"I told you I'd-" His smile disappeared as he saw your face, filled with shock and confusion. 

His eyes, which had always been narrow, seemed to be even more pointy now. His pupils were mere vertical stripes, and he had fangs. They weren’t nearly as long as the vampire’s fangs had been, but they were definitely longer than the average human’s fangs. When he saw your face, his eyes shot to the necklace you had gotten from Oberon and he sighed deeply, touching his forehead and cursing under his breath.

“They told you.” It wasn’t a question.

You didn’t know what you felt. So much was going through your head at the same time. He knew. He had known all along and he never told you. He was one of them. You had never felt more betrayed in your life.

“You… you knew?” you asked, barely any sound coming from your mouth “You’re… like them?”

He closed his eyes, he almost looked like he was in pain “It’s not what you think.” 

He took a step forward, but you took a few steps back, you had to stay as far away as you possibly could. He betrayed you. He lied.

“I think it’s exactly what I think.” you spit out, your voice breaking.

He walked closer, sticking out his hand as if he wanted to touch your shoulder “I-”

“Stay away from me.”

He threw his head back “Please.”

“No! I thought you were my friend.” Tears were rolling down your face at this point, you weren't sure whether they were there because you were angry, or because you were sad. Or maybe it was a mix of the two. 

He looked shocked, clearly not knowing what to say or do. He let down his arm again “I… I am your friend.”

You shook your head in disbelief “Friends don’t lie to each other.”

You saw his heart break by the way his eyes changed. Good. At least he knew you were right. 

He stepped closer to you once again “Please, let me explain.”

But there was nothing to explain “Stay away from me. I never want to see you again.” 

You ran.

As you ran through the forest that lay close to the town, your mind was twirling. You were too busy thinking about everything and nothing to get tired and you just kept running. The tears had stopped, they made place for a much rougher emotion, and you didn’t even know where it came from. Why did you feel like this? 

You stopped running, looked up to the leaves of the trees and let yourself fall back against a tree, sliding down to sit on the soft ground. You pulled your knees up to your chin and wrapped your arms around your legs. Strangely enough, you weren’t really thinking about anything. Your head was so full of thoughts it just seemed like your mind decided to close down all your thoughts and opinions. 

As you sat on the ground, leaning against a tree in the most quiet silence you had ever experienced, you realised you had never before felt as lonely as you did right in this moment. 

You sighed and forced thoughts to come through. Immediately regretting it, as the pain came with them. Soonyoung... lied. Your whole friendship had been one big joke. He had never been honest about who he was, where he came from and why he was here. Now that you thought about it, he probably was here for you. If you really were Oberon, the king, his daughter, you probably were a pretty big deal.

You just couldn't imagine Soonyoung, the nicest dude you had ever met, being one of those creatures. You thought about what he could be, if you knew whatever he was. Your knowledge of things like that wasn't great, you couldn't think of anything. 

What now? Where should you go? You really didn't want to see him, and you really weren't in the mood to see your parents either. They hadn't been honest either, for years they pretended to be who they weren't. Your father, or rather your not-father, had never shown you in any way, that you weren't actually his. Though you were in a mood where you'd be angry at everyone, you were strangely thankful he treated you like his own. 

Your mother however. She had never been honest with you, about who you were. You were old enough to know, right? And you had been old enough for a while. You could handle news like this well enough. 

Then suddenly you thought about how strangely Vera had acted this morning. Did she know? Is that why she acted so weird? Would they have told her before they told you? If that were the case you decided you wouldn't be so easy about it. They couldn't just do that. 

You sat there, thinking about loads of things, for who knows how long. Hours, it seemed. You felt yourself calm down quite a bit.

In the corner of your eye you saw something white. As you looked at it, there was the snake. With the knowing eyes, and gentle aura. 

"You again?" You asked softly, smiling at the creature "Are you looking for a place alone as well?”

You looked up at the leaves above you “Me too…” 

When you looked back at where the white snake had been, it was gone. You figured it was hiding in bushes or something, you didn’t worry about it much.

But then you heard something approach. Somewhere your mind suddenly hoped it was Soonyoung, that you were important enough for him to chase you. You felt lonely and, though you were angry, the idea of never seeing him again hurt.

But when you turned around to look at what was coming your way, you saw the white bunny with antlers, slowly hopping closer. It didn’t seem to pay attention to you at first, but as your eyes were locked onto it it suddenly turned its head. Its eyes were staring right at you, little nose bopping up and down, it's long, sharp fangs exposed. 

You smiled at it, even though it had fangs like that you really couldn't imagine a really tiny and adorable thing like that hurting you. It just seemed impossible. Yet it looked so… threatening. The whole aura around the creature changed from sweet to aggressive in no time.

And then everything happened super fast.

The bunny bared its fangs, revealing a big mouth filled with more sharp teeth. The mouth was way bigger than was even possible on a small creature like that. It ran towards you, jumped up too attack you, its two front legs stretched out to grab you while it mouth went for your head. You couldn’t even react. You had not seen this coming, and you had not at all been prepared for it. 

It the corner of your eye you saw the white snake appear again, from behind a bush. It slithered towards the bunny with a speed that almost seemed impossible, and it jumped up to bite the bunny. This meant the bunny didn’t get to bite you but was instead wrestling the snake right next to your feet. 

You quickly stood up, panicking as you processed what just happened. You considered running away, back home. But you couldn’t just leave the snake alone. What if it was killed? It tried to save you, right? You couldn’t just leave it.

You didn’t think long before you kicked the bunny creature away. It had transformed into something that didn’t really look like a bunny anymore, it looked like some sort of demon. It flew against a tree, and fell on the ground before shaking its head in confusion. This gave you some time to check on the snake.

It was slowly making its way to the bunny again, trying to stay as low as possible so the bunny wouldn’t see it. You got what it seemed to be going for and started to try and get the bunny’s attention making the ‘pspsps’ sounds you make to beckon a cat, hoping it would be too distracted to see the snake. 

Its head turned to you, red eyes terrifying. Fear shot through your body in the form of adrenaline when the bunny went to attack you. Once again the snake managed to attack it before it reached you. But after a short while the bunny managed to throw the snake away from him, and inch closer to you. You had picked up a stick that lay on the ground and held it like a baseball bat. You were just gonna try and hit it once it would jump to you.

And it did, but you missed, falling on the ground. The bunny did miss you because of your clumsiness, so it paid off.

Then something really strange happened, though thinking back on it you shouldn’t have been as surprised as you were. So much weird stuff had happened that nothing should have surprised you.

The white snake that had been protecting you started to transform.

"Soonyoung!?" You heard yourself scream at the man who was suddenly standing in front of you.

He smiled awkwardly at you before turning to the bunny creature “Stand back.” he ordered you.

You shook your head in disbelief “Wait just a minute, you’re a snake!?” 

From a scabbard attached to his belt, he pulled a katana “Yes. Yes I am. Though maybe we should discuss this a little later.” 

The bunny creature furiously jumped at him, he managed to cut off one of its ears. Then the bunny ran toward you, Soonyoung swung the katana at it, but missed by only a few inches. You managed to hit it with the stick, it flew a few meters away, buying you enough time to inspect Soonyoung a little further. The guy standing in front of you was nothing like the boy you had known all these years. Had those years been meaningless now that you had found out the truth? Had he lied about being your friend, too? You stood there with a lump in your throat as you tried your best to hide your anxiety. Seeing him like this hurt so much, seeing him so different, so unrecognisable to you. Yet happiness flood through you. Happiness because you saw him again, he came for you.

“Where did you get a katana?” your anger wasn’t gone however, you still thought it unforgivable that he lied to you for so long.

He chuckled as he once again tried to hit the bunny-like creature, but missed because it managed to dodge his attack, “You really want to discuss this now?”

“Yes!” why else would you have asked it?

A low growl came from his throat as he attacked once again “I’ve always had it, you just couldn’t see it. Like you couldn’t see all my other… differences.” 

The bunny was quick, though, and managed to rip Soonyoung’s sleeve. You gasped worriedly as a tiny stream of blood rushed over his arm and hit the bunny on the head with your stick in some sort of weird reflex. It seemed dizzy for a few seconds before turning its head to you, and started charging for an attack. You let out a scared sounding yelp and stretched your arms in front of you as if they would act like a proper shield. Obviously, they didn’t.

You felt a sharp, burning pain shoot through your shoulder, and then warm fluid dripped down your arm. You knew exactly what it was, but you didn’t want to look at it.

Soonyoung looked shocked, before charging at the bunny again. He managed to hit it. The bunny yelped, it’s white fur turning red around the wound Soonyoung created. The impact should have been bigger, but the cut didn’t seem to be that deep.

“You lied to me!” you yelled at Soonyoung “I trusted you.”

He swung his katana at the bunny again “I know. And I’m sorry.” he missed “If it had been up to me, I would have told you. But I couldn’t.”

“What do you mean you couldn’t?” you pressed your hand to the burning wound on your shoulder.

This time he hit the bunny well, it seemed to have trouble walking around after it, like it was slowly but certainly going towards its end.

“I work for Oberon, and Oberon forbid me to say anything about it until he allowed me to. You parents weren’t supposed to say anything either, not until Oberon told them it was time.” he pointed his sword at the bunny “I hated lying to you, but I had no choice. I’m so, so sorry.” he hit the creature one last time. It fell down, and it didn’t seem like it would ever get up again.

Soonyoung turned to you, his face looked sad “I can understand it if you won’t forgive me for this. I’ll tell Oberon he needs to send you a new guard if you want me to.”

You shook your head “Are you kidding me? Of course I don’t want you to leave.” especially now that you knew it hadn’t been his choice to keep you in the dark “It’s just…”

He stepped closer to you and pulled your hand away so he could look at the wound on your shoulder.

“I’m afraid you lied about more. Like… about really caring about me.” 

He let out an empty chuckle “I could never lie about that. I wasn’t supposed to get as close to you as I did, yes. But you really are my best friend and you mean the world to me.”

You were so happy to hear him say that. Suddenly your outburst earlier seemed so silly, your resentment against him and what he was seemed ridiculous. You loved him, why would that have changed? 

Tears streamed down your cheeks. You weren’t too sure what caused them. The happiness? The shock of the bunny turning into some sort of demon? The pain on the deep cut in your shoulder? A mix of all of these? It didn’t matter. Soonyoung had never looked more amazing, more loving, more honest. Especially with the sun setting behind him, he looked like an angel.

“Wow, it really got you good, huh?” he said as he carefully inspected your wound, “I’ll need to disinfect this, but it’ll heal for sure. You’ll be fine.” he smiled reassuring.

“What was that creature? And why did it suddenly turn on me? It was fine before.” you asked.

Soonyoung shrugged “It was an Orkexon. Nasty creatures, no one really knows what their deal is honestly. They look like teddy bears with fangs at first, but they only allow you to look at them two times, the third time they’ll attack. So you probably saw it before.” 

You nodded slowly “This morning as I ran out the door and called you… And last night.”

Soonyoung frowned “Last night? You saw it without the amulet on?”

You nodded, but he didn’t say anything else about it. Just made a weird, thoughtful sound.

You looked at Soonyoung’s wound. It was less deep as yours, but it did look nasty. Painful. He was breathing heavily, clearly exhausted from the fight he just had. Yet he seemed more concerned for you.

“Are you okay?” you asked quietly. Almost as if you were afraid to ask him.

He nodded “I’m fine. Are you?”

You thought about that question, a bit longer than necessary, probably.

“I am.” you smiled brightly “Let’s go home.”

Masterlist | Seventeen masterlist  |  잠자리 masterlist

1.1| 1.2 | 2.1 | 2.2 | 2.3 | 2.4 | 3.1

[crystalninjaphoenix]

No Strings on Me

A Stitched Story

JSE Fanfic

A bit of a shorter story, but after the event that was the season finale, there’s some aftermath that needs to be taken care of before the boys can move on to the next phase. Specifically, with Chase. He needs some help after all this. Let’s hope the other two are able to give it to him.

Tagging @septic-dr-schneep for inspiring this AU with this post.

Read where it started: Stitched Together | Season One 

Chase was in the bathroom. The bathroom of Jack’s apartment, to be exact. Sitting in the empty bathtub, to be even more exact. Jack and JJ thought it would be best if they all stayed together, and, well, Chase agreed. He didn’t want to go back to a big, empty home. He didn’t want to be alone. But he didn’t exactly want to see the others right now, not after they’d caught him up on everything he’d missed while he was...away.

He scowled. “Away.” That was the word Jack used. He was hesitant to use a stronger one. Honestly, what word would even fit? Kidnapped? Evil? Being used? Something that meant all of those at once? Chase pulled his knees up to his chest and looked down. An instinctive position. Curling up like this protected the face and the most sensitive body parts. He stayed like that, thinking back on the events earlier that day, after they’d all managed to get back to the apartment.

JJ had made dinner. Apparently he’d gotten familiar with the layout of the kitchen in the month he’d been alone. But even that, even something as simple as eating dinner had proven to be a challenge for the three of them. Jack had immediately scarfed it down, but he hadn’t been able to eat much before he started to feel nauseous. He’d excused himself, practically rushing to the bathroom. That just left Chase, picking at his food, with JJ.

“Hey, uh...” Chase didn’t look directly at JJ, but he did look in his general direction. “How did you get around the, um...” He gestured to JJ’s mask. “I mean, with the doc...well, I don’t know exactly what’s up with him now, but...he’s not doin’ his job at the hospital, I know that much. So how...?”

In answer, Jameson had stood up, walked over to one of the kitchen cabinets, opened it and taken out what looked like a fat syringe. He waved it at Chase, then put it back and sat back down inside.

“Oh,” Chase said, surprised. “I thought...I mean, you have to get those from the hospital, and you...need good reason. Did you...make something up to tell them?”

Jameson shook his head, folding his arms in an uncomfortable manner. At that moment, Jack walked back into the room. “Hey, I heard that last part,” he said. “And, uh, well, Hen’s ID wasn’t deactivated, since they think he’s just on vacation, so...it still works to open the doors and stuff.”

“You’re stealing the shots from the hospital?” Chase asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I mean, what else are we supposed to do? We can’t let JJ starve to death because of what that fucking demon did.” Jack took his seat at the table again. “And speaking of starving to death, I thought...I thought you said you were hungry. You haven’t touched your food yet.”

“I’ve been touching it.” Chase stabbed his fork into the chicken, as if to prove this point.

“That doesn’t mean you’ve been eating it.”

Chase looked away. “I mean...I think what just happened to you is proof that...I dunno, hard to adjust again.”

“Chase.” The tone in Jack’s voice was enough to make Chase look back at him again. The new, brighter blue eye gave his stare an almost lopsided appearance. “You’re gonna have to at least try. You look like hell, and I can tell you’ve lost a lot of weight. You’re not gonna get better again if you don’t eat.”

He tried, really he did, but he just...”Can you...tell me that I can?”

“You don’t need permiss—” Chase didn’t say anything, just gave stared at him with a pleading expression. Jack’s eyes widened, and he leaned back slightly. “Yeah...yeah, you can eat.” Chase’s shoulders immediately slumped in relief, and he didn’t have any trouble from that point on.

What happened after they ate, though, was tough to get through. Chase demanded to see Schneep. He wasn’t sure what state he was in now, and he needed to know. Jack and JJ had exchange a worried glance at his demands, but they still showed him to the guest room where Schneep was...staying.

He didn’t know what he expected. But it wasn’t this. This still, limp body, with eyes blocked out by static that overflowed into tears. He’d been hooked up to an IV and a heart monitor, also presumably stolen from the hospital. And he was still wearing the same clothes he’d been that day. Chase sat down hard in the chair the others had placed next to the bed. This was somehow worse than all the scenarios he’d been imagining. No change at all hurt more than seeing things get worse.

“Hey, doc,” he whispered, reaching out and grabbing his hand. It was warm, which surprised him. “I’m sorry about all this.” He turned back towards Jack and JJ, who were hovering in the doorway. “Has it...has it been like this the whole time?”

Jack nodded. “A few months. Bit over three, to be exact. We...don’t know how to fix it, or what happened, or what’s wrong with him.”

“Why don’t you ask me?” Chase asked dryly.

Jack blinked. “What do you—?”

“I was there, Jack. I was part of this, this is—” He stopped himself from saying this was his fault. He knew that it wasn’t. But...god, how could it not be? If he’d just been a little bit stronger, if he hadn’t fallen for Anti’s tricks in the first place, this never would have happened. He swallowed through the lump in his throat. “I saw what happened. He told me what this is.”

Jack walked over to stand next to Chase, and put a hand on his shoulder. Chase immediately shrugged off the too-heavy weight. A flash of hurt crossed Jack’s face, but he covered it immediately. “Well...anything would help,” he said softly.

“...right. Yeah.” Chase looked back at Schneep and his blank eyes. “What happened...I was supposed to get him away, to the place he’d set up for this...this purpose. And...” Chase shuddered. “Anti...he can’t affect someone unless they’re in a mentally weak place. He can force inside, that’s what he calls puppeteering, it’s what happened to you on Halloween. But...to really mess with them...”

“You don’t have to go into details if you don’t want to,” Jack hurried to say.

“I—alright. Alright.” Chase took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them slowly. “But he...he...what he said happened to Schneep is that...his soul was separated from his body.”

“What?!” Jack glanced at JJ. “Is that possible?”

JJ furrowed his brows, confused, then shook his head, making a strange gesture with both hands. “That’s ‘die,’” Jack translated. “You’d die without a soul?” JJ nodded.

“Well, if the soul was just left there,” Chase said. “But...he put it somewhere. I—I don’t know where, but it was something to do with TV screens. Or maybe that’s just how he accessed the place.” Chase remembered walking the empty halls of that underground maze. Sometimes there was a TV screen in the eye-ridden walls. He’d walk past it and hear...something that almost sounded like a person...“ ̴́ ̢ ̀͠ ͝ ̷̢ ̕͠ ̡͢ ̡̀ ̛͢ ̢ ̀̕ ̵̛͢!̸̕ ̡̧́ ̨ ̛͠ ͡ ̕͠ ̵̕͟ ͏͞ ̧͠ ͟ ͏͏̀ ̷͟ ̨̕ ̨ ̢͢ ̷͢ ͠͏ ̀ ̷̴ ̀͠!̀”

“Can we...can we undo it?” Jack sounded afraid of the answer.

Chase shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Silence for a moment. And then, “Well, we know more than we did before. That counts as progress!” Jack said, forcing a note of cheerfulness. “Now we have good ol’ knowledge, we have those books that could maybe help us, we can meet him on his own level.” JJ straightened, nodding optimistically.

“I guess it’s better than where we were before.” Chase let go of Schneep’s hand—why was that so easy, he should’ve wanted to hold on longer—and stood up. “Maybe...we have a chance...” he said reluctantly.

Jack smiled. “That’s the spirit!” He pulled Chase into a one-armed hug. Chase squeaked, and wiggled out of it, backing back toward the door. Jack gaped at him. “Chase, what—what’s wrong? You’ve never...I mean...”

“I-I’m going to the bathroom,” Chase said, stepping past Jameson, who was giving him the most peculiar look, and into the hallway. “I’ll-I’ll be back.”

And that was how he ended up here, in a ball in the tub, wondering what the fuck was wrong with him. It wasn’t enough that he’d helped put one of his best friends in a coma, he had to be repulsed by his other best friend just trying to comfort him.

He tried to tell himself that wasn’t what was happening. But he couldn’t think of any other way to describe it. When Jack had tried to hug him, it felt like his skin was about to crawl off his body. The weight of his arms had been stifling, suffocating. And the feeling of being pressed against another person made his breathing stop and his brain go crazy with the need to just get away.

Chase curled up tighter. It wasn’t always that way. He used to love hugs. What happened?

You don’t hate me, Chase. I’m your fr̨i͟͏e͝n̛d̵̀.

Chase shuddered. Anti. Anti was what happened. For a demon, he’d been awfully touchy-feely while Chase was with him. If he wasn’t off doing...whatever it was demons did, or making Chase...he didn’t want to think about what Anti made him do. But if neither of those more pressing engagements were underway, Anti would show up. He’d wrap his arms around him, tightly, and wouldn’t let go. His favorite thing to do was touch the stitches on his neck, gently stroke them. Chase had thought it felt...nice...at the time. Now he shuddered, remembering it.

He uncurled from his position, climbing out of the tub and walking over to the counter with its mirror. He leaned over the sink, staring at his own reflection. Jack was right. He did look like hell. In fact, he almost didn’t recognize the thin, pale face with dark circles under its eyes and brittle hair tangled and faded at the ends. But there were two things that affirmed it was actually himself he was looking at. The dirty cap that he still wore, mostly out of habit now, and the green stitches wrapped around his neck. Contrary to the rest of his appearance, they looked as clean and pristine as the day he gave them to him.

Chase gritted his teeth. He could feel them. They were itching, grabbing at his skin. Around his wrists, too. He held up his hands, examining the stitching there. There was a small, loose end dangling from his left wrist, half an inch long. Before he could stop to wonder if this was a good idea, he snatched the end, and started pulling. And kept pulling. The sensation of thread rubbing against his skin, being pulled from somewhere inside, made him want to scream. But he kept at it, until the string was about the length of his forearm. And then it stopped. He tugged, and no more string came out. It just felt like something was pulling his wrist along.

There was another loose end on his right wrist. Chase repeated the process, and got the same result. He whimpered. There had to be something else he could do. There had to be, he couldn’t just be stuck with this, stuck with him, forever.

He looked back up, catching the fearful eye of his reflection in the mirror. He watched his reflection’s hand reach up, feeling the stitches on the neck, causing his reflection to shake at the sensation of fingers on its stitching. The reflected hand made its way around the back of the reflected neck and back to the front again, where its fingers brushed against a dangling string. The fingers seized the string, and slowly, steadily, a length of green thread unreeled. Simple as pulling out a vein. Until it stopped, and all Chase could feel was that—that tug.

You’re being d̶͞i͟͟ff́i͞c̷ul̛̕͢t on purpose, Chase. Come on, be good for your fr̴̢i̴͠en̨d̴ or I’ll have to dr̶a̶g̛̕͞ you b̢͠e͢h͞iǹd̴̕ ̡͟me̵.

Someone was knocking on the door. He heard it, but he didn’t listen to it. He was too busy clawing at the stitches, nails catching on thread as he tried desperately to get them off, get them off, get them off. If he could just get under them, if he could only get them away from him, everything would be okay. He wouldn’t have been so weak, Anti wouldn’t have used him, his friends wouldn’t have been hurt by him, he wouldn’t be such a fucked human being—

The door must’ve opened at one point, because now someone was trying to pull his arms away. He resisted, naturally. That was what you do, you resist the pull during those moments when you’re aware enough to realize you’re being yanked along down empty red halls. There was blood on his neck and under his nails, and the stitches weren’t coming out. He wasn’t breathing. Or if he was, it was so shallow that it didn’t register. And the stitches weren’t coming out.

His hands were finally taken away from his throat, warm hands wrapped around his fingers so they couldn’t wiggle back. He stopped trying at that point and just stood there, gasping. Chase realized there were tears in his eyes only when he had to squint through them to see who it was who’d stopped him. Dark blue eyes, a darker blue mask. Jameson.

“I—I can’t, I c-can’t,” Chase gulped. His cheeks were wet. “I c-can’t, I just—I j-j-just want—” 

Jameson didn’t say anything, obviously. But Chase realized his eyes were watery with unshed tears. After a moment, during which Chase tried his best to recover his breath, Jameson let go of Chase’s hands and reached over to the mirror, swinging it open to reveal the medicine cabinet behind it. He plucked out a box of Band-Aids and held them out to Chase.

Chase took the box, giving Jameson a confused look. JJ responded by tapping his own neck. After a moment, Chase opened the box and took out a Band-Aid, carefully removing the paper covering. He took a moment to steel his nerves, then put the Band-Aid on his neck, over one of the spots that was bleeding. JJ nodded encouragingly. Chase stared at him for a moment more, then sat down on the toilet seat, steadily making his way through the box as he used up Band-Aids fixing the bleeding. After he was sure every spot was covered, he looked up at JJ.

JJ’s eyes squinted in a way that meant he was smiling underneath the mask. He held his hand out toward Chase. Chase instinctively shrank away, holding his wrists closer to himself, but when the hand didn’t come any closer he slowly relaxed, and took the offering. JJ pulled Chase to his feet, and gently led him out of the bathroom and into the apartment’s second bedroom. Normally that was where Jack slept, but Jack had been gone for a month, and it looked unused when JJ flipped on the light.

Chase looked around. “I thought...you would’ve been sleeping here. While you worked on getting Jack back.”

JJ shook his head. He walked over to the room’s dresser, pulling open the bottom drawer. After a moment of rummaging around, he started pulling out what looked like loose cloth until he had a pile of it, which he gathered up and dumped onto the bed. He beckoned for Chase to come see. Chase slowly crept over.

It wasn’t just a bunch of loose cloth. It was...scarves. And bandannas. A variety of styles and colors. Chase gave JJ a wide-eyed look. “What’re...?”

JJ tapped his mask, right over where his mouth was. It clicked for Chase then. Of course JJ would know something about the stitches. Of course he would understand why Chase was trying so frantically to pull them out, to no avail. He’d been living with them for longer than Chase had. And his had caused quite a bit of inconvenience, too.

Chase sat down on the bed and began sorting through the pile. “Heh. Why does Jack have so many?” he muttered. He pulled out a piece of purple. The color was quite nice. And it was a bandanna, no loose dangling ends. He tied it around his neck, fully hiding the stitches from view. Then, he noticed his wrists, and held them up for Jameson to see. He gave him an inquiring look.

JJ folded his arms, thinking, then walked right back over to the dresser and opened a box on top of it that looked like it had never been opened before, at least not regularly. He pulled out a yellow headband, threw it away, then showed Chase what else was in the box: two matching wristbands. Chase nodded, and JJ tossed them over. Chase caught them easily and quickly pulled them on, tucking the loose string inside. “I...I think I like this,” he said quietly. “Thanks, JJ.”

JJ smiled again, then jerked his head toward the bedroom door as if to ask, Are you ready to leave? “Not...yet,” Chase said. “I want to change clothes. These are kinda a mess. Do you mind?” JJ nodded, and left.

A few moments later, Chase reemerged from the bedroom. JJ, who’d been waiting outside the door, gave him a thumbs up. Chase returned that with a small smile. He felt at least a little better now. Not back to normal, but not...like it was with him.

The two of them walked down the hall and came out into the living room. Jack was curled up on the couch, also in a new set of clothes, staring at nothing. The moment they walked in, his head snapped toward him. He did something strange: he closed his left eye, the normal one, for just a moment. He smiled, and opened it again. “Hey, dude,” he said, his tone falling somewhere between gentle and casual. “Are you...okay now?”

Chase leaned against the nearest wall. “No. But...I’m not as bad.”

“That’s okay. It’s...gonna take a while. For all of us.” Jack took a deep breath. “Look, I’m...I’m sorry about what happened back there. The, uh, hug thing.”

“What?” Chase blinked, surprised. “No, you don’t have to be sorry. I shouldn’t’ve freaked out on you.”

Jack shook his head. “No, I made you uncomfortable, and that sucks. I’m the one at fault here. I didn’t know it would make you upset, but the fact of the matter is that even if I didn’t know, I still need to apologize. It may have been an accident, but it...it hurt you. And I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Chase stared at him. He could feel the tears coming again, just a different kind now. “Thanks, man.” He took a deep breath, then crossed over to the couch and sat down. He was on the other side, and he wasn’t at all eager to get closer to Jack, but...he didn’t want to be alone right now. JJ followed him into the room, taking his place leaning against the wall. He made some gestures that Chase didn’t understand.

“What is...?”

“He’s wondering what to do next,” Jack translated. “It’s sign language. We, uh, only came up with it after...he took you. And, uh, Chase.” Jack made eye contact with him. “It wasn’t your fault. None of it was. It was all him.”

Chase felt the urge to explain. “I mean...if I hadn’t been taken, then Doc wouldn’t be—”

“He probably would,” Jack said. “Remember December last year? JJ and I think maybe Anti was trying to get him in this same sort of...coma, whatever, but wasn’t quite strong enough. He’s been trying for a long time, Chase, and if he hadn’t been able to use you, he still would’ve found another way. Chase, you’re not the bad guy here. You’re the victim. And you need to stop taking blame that isn’t yours to take.”

Chase made a strange sound, part whimper, part squeak, part sigh of relief. He...he needed that. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. I’m not the bad guy. I’m the—I’m the victim.” He flinched automatically, saying that, expecting retaliation for saying he was hurt. Of course, it didn’t come. And...it felt good to be able to say it. “But...JJ’s right, what are we going to do next?”

Jack glanced at JJ. “Well, we need to figure out what could be happening to Henrik’s soul. And then we need to see if there’s a way back. And then, if there is, we need to get it back so he’ll wake up.”

“That’s only three things,” Chase muttered. “Not too hard when you say it that way.”

JJ laughed a bit at that, a muffled sound. He held out his hand, and a blue circle flared into existence, spinning on the fingertips briefly before fading away. He looked at the other two, then flexed his fingers again as if to say, we have this.

“Yeah, that could help,” Jack said, picking up on the unspoken message. “I know you don’t know what it is, but you know how it works?”

JJ nodded.

“Didn’t you guys say you had some magic books?” Chase asked. “I think I remem...shit!” He bolted upright. “JJ, I stabbed you! Fuck, I’m sorry about that, I-I know it wasn’t me, but I still feel like to need an apology—”

JJ held up a hand to still the flow of words. He nodded in understanding, and Chase practically wilted with relief.

“Yeah, we have some magic books,” Jack said. “Four, wasn’t it?” JJ nodded. “Maybe something could help us in those.”

“I guess the next step is researching, huh?”

“No, the next step is bedtime.” Jack pointed at the digital clock hanging on the wall. “I dunno about you, but I’m gonna sleep for the entire next day.”

With the mention of sleep, Chase was suddenly aware of how exhausted he was. How exhausted he’d been for a long long while. The adrenaline must’ve been wearing off finally. “I...I don’t think I can be alone,” he whispered.

“Then we can all sleep in my room,” Jack said. “I know I have a ton of spare blankets and pillows. We can make a nest on the floor, or two people can sleep on the bed together.”

“Dibs on the nest,” Chase said. “Do you...mind if I’m by myself?”

“Of course not, Chase,” Jack said gently. “JJ and I can take the bed. That’s okay with you, JJ?” JJ laughed, then gave a thumbs-up. “Then it’s settled.”

Night fell. The city continued on its business outside. And for the first time in months, the three of them slept soundly.

[dreadhaus-literature]

{Story} Cold Comfort

What’s a mortician to do when the love of their life is just out of reach? A temporary replacement is just cold comfort for the time being. It can’t last, after all—

True love never dies.

Chapter One

A Dreadful Dalliance sits at the end of a long, forested road, the gate-keeper to a sprawling cemetery that will eventually be the resting place of every soul in New Senzannini. The Mortuary has been in operation for nearly a decade and has earned it’s sterling reputation as a thoughtful, caring place to bring your loved ones for their last rites and a compassionate send-off to the next stage of life. Owned and operated by Dot Dreadful, the Mortuary handles all post-mortem operations, from the preparation of the departed to the funeral arrangements, and though the morgue is fully staffed with plenty of attentive, devoted staff, there’s only one mortician on staff--Dot. Now that the owner of the Dalliance was growing too pregnant to be on her feet, or surrounded by the chemicals necessary to do her job, it left a gaping hole to be filled or New Senzannini’s only mortuary was going to be temporary closed. That wasn’t an option, and that left Dot Dreadful with only one alternative.

“You’re hiring a temp?” Felina Frenzy, known more intimately by her birth name Monica, glanced up at her best friend with a curious tilt of her head. “Do they even have temporary morticians?”

Dot Dreadful didn’t glance up from the stack of papers in her hand; there was so much involved in handing her business over while she was on maternity leave and she should have started preparing for this months ago. “Ah, yes and no. It’s something of an unspoken code that you help out a fellow mortician if they need it. We often consult with each other on difficult preparations or if one of us is handling a coroner’s report dealing with suspicious circumstances. That sort of thing.”

Monica nodded, turning back to the training manual in her lap. “Were you able to find someone to help you out?”

“The city coroner offered but he’s...” Dot paused in her reviewing, glancing up at the ceiling. “How do I put this diplomatically...he does as well as one would expect a coroner to do when dealing with living, breathing bodies after he spends all day with cold, dismembered corpses.”

Monica laughed, nodding. “Makes sense. So he wouldn’t be any good handling the people aspect of the job.”

“Definitely not.”

“I mean, you know I’m always fine to help you out,” Monica crossed one leg over the other, meeting Dot’s gaze over her desk. “But I don’t know why you think I’m going to be any better handling the people aspect of your job.”

“You’re better with people than you think, you just don’t like them.” Dot turned back to her lists. “I don’t like people either but I manage this job just fine. You’ll be a peach, you always are.”

“...But you’re not expecting me to do the hack and slash part of the job, right?” Monica ventured. She didn’t and wouldn’t tell Dot no, but it wasn’t like she had the technical training to prepare a corpse for burial.

Dot shook her head. “Not at all. I thought of a compromise. Since you offered to help where you could, I figured you could handle the managerial side of things, keep the staff running smoothly, sort of...just sit in this chair right here.” Dot patted the arm of her desk chair. “You’d be the boss, supervising the day to day operations, and I’d hire on a temporary mortician to solely be responsible for the more hands-on part of the job. You guys would tag-team it.”

Monica looked thoughtful before she nodded. It seemed a solid enough plan. “But the city coroner wasn’t interested in working that way?”

“Roger’s a decent guy, but he’s also been the city coroner for like, eighty years,” Dot exaggerated dryly. “He wants to work this alone, and I just don’t trust him to handle the entire process. I’m not going to ask you to try and deal with his gross man ego while you’re doing me a favor, holding this place down while I’m off.”

“I would have been fine, Dottie.” Monica closed the lid of the training binder, handing it back to Dot since the woman as still adding pages to the already thick instruction manual. “I’m not unused to men’s egos.”

“I know, love, it’s not about you not being able to handle it, but more why would I subject you to that when you’re doing me a favor? Especially since I was able to find a mortician who had no problem with staying below and just prepping the bodies for you.”

To Monica, that sounded reasonable enough and why wouldn’t it be? A Dreadful Dalliance has been Dot’s first baby, but now that she had actual babies on the way she needed help taking care of her “firstborn”. Monica had been friends with Dot for years, since before the Mortuary, so of course she’d been here through it’s conception and it’s construction, and it’s subsequent years of operation. How many hours had she spent with Dot in this office, working on her own projects? Being a novelist and illustrator afforded Monica plenty of freedom to set her own schedule and since her newest literary masterpiece was circulating and topping lists, she had some much earned downtime--granted one might not consider managing a mortuary as “downtime” but Monica knew the staff here was pretty much self-sufficient and short of just sitting in here and being present should any emergencies present themselves, it really wouldn’t be too taxing. Dot had spent the last couple weeks preparing that thick manual for Monica to have and she’d also insisted Monica call her if need be. Dot may be approaching the bed rest phase of her pregnancy but that didn’t mean her vocal chords didn’t work--Monica didn’t say this, but she was going to do whatever she needed to not have to call Dot. She wanted to do this, to help Dot out when she needed it, and with Dot taking care of the second part of her job with finding a temporary mortician, it all seemed to be falling into place without a hitch.

“When do they start?”

Dot reached over for her desk phone. “They already have, actually.” She pressed the intercom, connecting her to the morgue in the basement. “Can you come up to my office please, Glad?”

“Can do, Miss Dreadful!”

The chipper reply to Dot hadn’t been what Monica was expecting, especially coming up from the dark, cold recesses of the morgue. She actually blinked in surprise, but Dot just flashed her a smile and turned back to scribbling last minute notes in the margin of the list in her hand.

A scant few minutes later and there was a knock on Dot’s office door before the new hire let himself in and Monica got her first look at the partner she’d be working with over the next several weeks.

“Monica, this is Gladwyn Charles. Gladwyn, this is my closest friend and your new boss, Monica.”

The man Dot named was still in the process of ducking into the room when she made the introductions, his impressive height making the frame of the door a little bit of a hazard. He was wearing a floor length black latex apron but all that did was elongate his already tall frame even further; it stopped at his ankles, revealing polished black dress shoes that were a compliment to his black slacks and the white button-up dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He had on a bow-tie that was red rather than black, and that fiery crimson adornment drew Monica’s eyes further up to the same blaze of red that surrounded his head like a halo. Gladwyn Charles was a true redhead, his hair the color of blood, a stain of rose around his pale skin and he wore it long, braided and over his broad right shoulder. it nearly reached his waist, but it seemed even the braid couldn’t tame all the wavy strands, as curls sprang free to frame his square features, brushing the hollow of his freckled cheeks. Gladwyn had a dusting of freckles not unlike stars across the bridge of his nose and the crest of his cheeks, bringing Monica’s gaze to his long lashes and the deep, rich forest green of expressive bright eyes. His glasses were perched a little low on his nose; the frames were silver and square, fashionable and sleek, but Gladwyn’s smile didn’t speak of arrogance that came with wealth. The smile was big and bright, but as Monica continued to stare at him it only seemed to grow...bigger, brighter, reminding her of an animal baring it’s teeth. It was almost aggressive, his smile was so prominent, but nothing dangerous reflected back at her in those eyes--eyes that were riveted to her face. Gladwyn didn’t even turn when he closed the door, keeping his gaze on Monica as he pushed the door closed with one long-fingered hand.

“Ah, Miss Frenzy. It’s an honor to finally meet you,” Gladwyn made a show of wiping his hand one final time on his slacks before offering it to Monica. “Miss Dreadful has told me so much about you. I feel like I already know you.”

Monica stood to take Gladwyn’s offered hand. “M...Monica, please. And your name is...?”

“Gladwyn.” He laughed a little sheepishly, but still hadn’t taken his eyes off hers. “I know it’s a little unusual. You can call me Glad if you’d like. Or Charles, or Charlie. Even Smiley!”

From her desk, Dot’s eyebrow rose. “Smiley?”

“It’s a nickname from college.” Gladwyn answered Dot, eyes still on Monica as he kept hold of her petite hand. “Because I smile all the time.”

Monica would have ventured to bet it had more to do with Gladwyn’s smile being...hard to forget. It was almost painfully wide, as if he were the world’s nicest man. She gave Gladwyn’s hand a firmer shake, and though he released her hand...she felt the reluctance. She’d let his hand go several dozen seconds before he finally released her, but she tried to push that from her mind. Dot had warned her years ago that morticians were sometimes...odd. Like those who work in IT, only certain people want to play with the dead all day long; typically it’s those who don’t play well with the living. Gladwyn was probably just a little awkward from interacting with those who can’t interact back, day in and day out.

“Nice to meet you, Gladwyn.” Monica stressed his name, ensuring she said it right. Gladwyn’s eyes brightened.

“I assure you, Miss Frenzy, the pleasure’s all mine.”

“Monica, please.”

Gladwyn paused, his throat working before he spoke, inclining his head down in a show of respect and slight reverence. “...Monica.”

With Gladwyn much closer, Monica was able to discern even more from the tall mortician--like his tattoos. She could see at least four, though three of them were thick black bands on his left wrist, leading up to his elbow. When he finally turned to face Dot, Monica was petite enough to see there was a smiley face tattooed behind his right ear. Smiley really did seem to be a moniker that fit this unusual mortician. Gladwyn was tall and thin, but he wasn’t without some muscle mass. Now that he was closer, Monica could see his forearms and biceps laced with sinewy muscle, likely from lifting dead weight all day, and though his slacks left a little more to the imagination she assumed his entire frame was the same way., and she’d felt for herself how strong his hands were. Gladwyn was definitely not what came to mind when one thought of the word mortician; well, except for that smile. That was not a normal man’s smile, but Monica also couldn’t put her finger on what was wrong with it. Did he smile with too many teeth? Was it just too...eager? She shook her head slightly as if to clear it, moving to take her seat again--almost startled back into standing with Gladwyn extended his arm to help her into her seat before he took the chair next to her. When she looked up at him, intending to thank him, he smiled at her and her voice died in her throat. Eager was definitely a good word to describe Gladwyn’s smile.

Little did Monica know, but eager was a good word to describe Gladwyn Charles as a whole. The Dalliance’s newest hire initially comes across to others as unassuming, even if he was on the tall side with a head full of long, flaming curls. Gladwyn never minded that he had a tendency to blend in a little in the background; he’s perfectly fine with allowing someone else the spotlight because he’s a perfectly polite gentleman. Nice guys may finish last but Gladwyn would happily smile in the face of anyone quipping that at him with a, “True, but the tortoise always beat the hare, didn’t he?” before turning back to the task at hand. Gladwyn has gone through life with the intelligence to understand human nature, and the self-awareness to know he doesn’t always fit in. He’s aware he’s a little awkward but that awareness also allows him to fake it, to cover his tendency to make others uncomfortable with a self-deprecating joke or by being so polite others simply can’t be rude to him. If one were to ask Gladwyn he’s not sure why others are so put off by his smile; he thinks his smile looks just fine! After all, he practices in the mirror. His teeth are straight and white, and his eyes sparkle a little when he smiles--so what could possibly be wrong with him? Friends in the past have told him he just looks a little “creepy” or “crazy” when he smiles, to maybe try not smiling so widely...but if he’s happy, why shouldn’t he smile with all his teeth? For all his intelligence, Gladwyn can’t figure some aspects of human nature out, and that was one of them. Being too eager, too friendly, too clingy was perceived as a bad thing and he just didn’t understand that. That was why none of his friends ever stuck around for long. That was why none of his previous relationships ever worked out. Gladwyn simply cared too much. He was simply too eager.

Gladwyn slowly lowered himself into the chair across from Monica, eager green eyes devouring her in a way he knew he had to get under control, it wasn’t socially acceptable for him to stare this long but it was an enormous struggle. He’d never seen anyone so beautiful before in his entire life. Dot had told him a lot about Monica, he’d listened with his usual attentiveness but now, now he was calling upon his memory for every single detail from his previous conversations with his employer for the tiniest morsel he could glean about Monica. Even as his mind worked, his eyes did their job in committing everything he could about her to memory; her bone structure was impeccable, feather-light and delicate, and he ran his tongue over his suddenly dry lips at the urge to pepper kisses along her jaw just to follow that tempting line to her throat. Monica sat like an empress in the high-backed chair, her posture so regal he felt the urge to shy away, to shrink back because he didn’t deserve to be so close to her...but how could he not be? Who could possibly stand to be away from such an ethereal creature? Was she even real? Gladwyn’s long fingers pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, the focused lenses providing him with further admirings to commit to memory. Their eyes were the same color, green, but hers were brighter than his, a feminine compliment to his masculinity that made his heart skip a beat in his chest. Her hair was short, a bob that complimented her profile so devastatingly he had to slowly grip his fingers along the arm of his chair to stop from wanting to touch her hair. It shimmered, caught the office lights as if flirting with him, teasing him with how soft it must feel.  And he knew how good she smelled; he caught the wisps of her perfume to the moment he’d stepped into the hallway outside the office and now that he was close enough to scent her effortlessly he focused on dragging the scent of her into his lungs, desperate to commit the scent to memory so he’d be able to recall it at will.

The simple act of meeting had never been so poignant to Gladwyn before in his entire life. How many hundreds of people had he met in his decades of life? None of them compared to this, none of them had ever affected him like this, like Monica. He knew her name was Felina to the public but she’d told him to call her Monica, the same name Dot was able to call her...that must mean something. To Gladwyn, it did. She’d shaken his hand, smiled at him and insisted, twice, that he call her by her birth name. A name intimate, known only to family and friends...that included him, now. How nice of her! How sweet...who would have thought a woman so beautiful, so stunning, would also be so kind?

“Gladwyn?”

The older mortician blinked behind his glasses, before turning to Dot. “Y-Yes? I’m...terribly sorry, I must have spaced out.”

Dot laughed, eyebrows raised. “You are wearing a face mask down there, right? Those are some pretty strong chemicals we work with.”

Gladwyn took the easy out with a gracious laugh, his rich tenor a compliment to that ever-present smile on his pale face. “Yes, of course, of course. A thousand pardons, what were you saying?”

“I was saying, Monica is the one I was telling you about, who will be sitting in my chair here while you’re working down in the morgue. She’ll be handling the operations, managing the rest of the staff and funeral arrangements. She’s got full authority and she knows how this place should run,” Dot looked between Monica and Gladwyn with a smile. “And love, Gladwyn has been familiarizing himself with the morgue downstairs over the past few days, shadowing me, and shouldn’t have any problems handling the hack and slash part of the job.”

Gladwyn cleared his throat slightly, his red brows pulling in at the center as a barb of jealousy seared across his chest. He’d known Dot for a couple weeks, knew her to use terms of endearment liberally and it had never bothered him before, but just now, her use of love directed at Monica rose like bile at the back of his throat. He didn’t particularly like that...and he didn’t particularly understand why.

Monica and Dot were both unaware of Gladwyn’s inner turmoil and confusion, mistaking his throat clearing and the shifting in his seat as mere fidgeting. Monica nodded, returning Dot’s smile before she turned it to Gladwyn.

“Shouldn’t be too much of a problem to keep this place running smoothly while Dot’s gone, right?”

“Hm?” Gladwyn locked gazes with Monica before that smile of his returned in full force. “Oh, I highly doubt it. You seem a very capable woman, Mis--er, Monica.”

Monica’s laughter was a touch nervous at the compliment, most especially coupled with the sincerity behind Gladwyn’s glasses. He held his smile while he held her gaze, and Monica had to resist the urge to blush under such open attention. He was certainly a...nice guy.

“I drew up manuals for both of you while I’m gone, and Gladwyn I told Monica to reach out to me if you guys run into any problems.” Dot tapped Monica’s manual on her desk; Gladwyn’s was down in the morgue and he’d already been making use of it. “The Staff has already been prepped to treat the two of you as co-owners while I’m gone, so you shouldn’t have any issues there either.”

“Seems you really have thought of everything, Miss Dreadful.” Gladwyn sat back in his seat; his gaze appeared to be on Dot...but he was watching Monica out of the corner of his eye.

“I highly doubt it,” Dot replied, resting her chin on her hand. “But, I trust Monica and with you here to help her, Glad, hopefully it won’t be too rocky for her.”

“You have my word, I’ll look out for her.” Gladwyn’s smile was once again aimed at Monica. “She’ll be in good hands.”

A nervous flutter of butterflies rushed up Monica’s ribcage and she had to look away; Gladwyn was clearly a man who wore his heart on his sleeve and the genuine show of emotion in his eyes, on his face, made her nervous. Who was so nice this early on? Was it possible for someone to just...be this kind? It had to be, because here he was, giving her a million-watt smile with promise written all over his face.

“Then I guess there’s only one thing left to do.”

Monica took the reprieve where it was offered, looking up at Dot. “What’s that?”

Dot gave her a smile, looking between Monica and Gladwyn with her hands out in a gesture. “How about dinner?”

The Tower was a high-end restaurant with an established clientele, but there was nowhere New Senzannini’s literary elite and established death beautician couldn’t eat if they wanted to. There was no need for a reservation and the trio were ushered from the hostess podium to the best table in the restaurant, immediately; afforded their privacy but with attentive staff at the ready. Dot eased down into her cushioned seat with a sigh of relief to be off swollen ankles but it was something Monica missed, because Gladwyn was standing beside her chair with it pulled out for her, gesturing to it with that curious smile of his. She offered him a nervous but grateful smile in return as she slowly sat down, startled at how easily he settled her against the table. Even for the muscle she’d seen he was stronger than he looked, but Gladwyn would argue she weighed next to nothing at all. He had half a mind to order for her to ensure she was even eating enough; a thought that darkened his brow as he settled into his own chair to Monica’s left. Now that they were out of the Mortuary, Monica could see all of him as he was out of his apron and he filled out his tailored suit well. He’d also rebraided his hair before coming out and with his wealth of hair pulled back from his face in an elegant french braid, Monica had to admire Gladwyn. He was a handsome man. As if sensing her staring, he turned to face her, his smile catching the ambient lighting and she had a new appreciation for his bone structure, the way the shadows flirted with the hollows of his cheeks, the high cut of his brow.

“I’ve never eaten here. Have you?”

“A-Ah, a few times,” Monica nodded. “I’m...surprised you haven’t.”

“Why’s that?” Gladwyn’s head tilt reminded her of a puppy.

“You...well, don’t mind me saying so but you look like you come from money.” Monica was hopeful the low lighting of the intimate restaurant hid her blush well enough as she moved her napkin to her lap.

“Why would I mind such a sweet compliment?” Gladwyn’s voice was rich and warm as he regarded Monica. “I do, come from money, but I don’t get out much. Surely Miss Dreadful has explained we morticians don’t keep much living company?”

Monica couldn’t help the laugh. “I a-am her only friend.”

“Hey hey,” Dot snapped her cloth napkin before pointing between the two of them. “That is a thousand percent by choice. Other people are the worst.”

“I’m not gonna argue with that,” Monica put her hands up, but as she moved to take the menu from their waiter, she was surprised to momentary silence when Gladwyn reached over, took her menu, and then handed it to her. “T-Thank you.”

“Of course.” Gladwyn’s tone was still warm, amiable, but he cut his eyes to the waiter as if daring the other male to say something. When the server cleared his throat and turned his attention to Dot, Gladwyn returned his gaze to Monica and his entire posture relaxed. His smile had never wavered.

The entire premise of dinner between the three had been Dot’s way of breaking the ice between her best friend and the new hire at the mortuary. She didn’t want to leave Monica with this new mortician for hours and hours a day, for weeks, perhaps months, without forming a sort of tentative relationship between the two, for Monica’s comfort level more than anything else. Part of why she’d hired Gladwyn was because he was such a nice guy. She’d called every colleague, boss, and even two of Gladwyn’s college professors to run him through the wringer to make sure he came out squeaky clean but every test Dot put him through, he passed. Everyone had something nice to say about Gladwyn, that he was an eager student, a polite co-worker, a diligent employee. He never called in sick, he never had any brushes with the law; hell, one of Gladwyn’s old employers stated he actually said, “Please,” and “I’m sorry,” to corpses if he mishandled them or when he needed to do something particularly invasive. Gladwyn was polite to a fault, and he was a certified nice guy. Granted, a couple people had mentioned his smile giving them the creeps, and Dot had to admit there was something a little off about it, but you can’t judge a guy by his smile, right? Besides, finding a mortician who wasn’t considered at least a little creepy was like finding a needle in a haystack. Dot had interviewed enough fish-eyed weirdos to know, Gladwyn was as good as she was going to get on such short notice. Judging by the swelling in her ankles just from the walk from the Mortuary to her truck and then into the restaurant, Dot was days away from being confined to bed--so as the saying goes, beggars can’t be choosers.

Still, Dot lifted her water glass to her mouth as she looked between Monica and Gladwyn; they seemed to be hitting it off well. Gladwyn’s smile was a prominent thing, Dot noticed he really did smile all the time, but it seemed different when he looked at Monica. Dot noticed things like this, she paid attention, but it didn’t raise any alarm bells. He simply seemed to really enjoy Monica’s company and honestly who wouldn’t? Dot had been friends with the other woman for over a decade; she knew the kind of effect Monica had on others and even if Monica would deny it to her grave, Dot knew better. Gladwyn was proof enough; the man was hanging off her every word. Dinner would be the first step to solidifying a good relationship between the two, and as long as this went well, Dot would be confident in going on maternity leave knowing her best friend, and her place of business, were in good hands.

“So, I know plenty about you Gladwyn but Monica doesn’t,” Dot turned to the duo as the waiter took their drink orders to the bar. “Why don’t you tell her a little about yourself?”

Gladwyn would have opened a vein to get Monica to talk about herself, but he swallowed that graphic visual with that smile of his, moving his hands to his lap as he nodded a few times, his attention swiveling to Monica effortlessly. “Well, what about you like to know?”

Monica blinked a few times, unsure what to ask. She floundered a little before blurting out. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Corpse blue.”

Gladwyn dropped his reply like a body onto the table, so serious in his delivery that Monica was left staring at him, her eyebrows slowly creeping upward. “R-Really?”

“Oh, no!” Gladwyn shook his head with a rich laugh. “I’m sorry, no, that was a little mortician humor. It’s just blue, my favorite color is blue, it’s just, you know the corpses turn blue when they’re frozen. I thought I’d have a little fun with it.”

Dot rolled her eyes as she reached for a hot roll from the bread basket at the center of the table. “You know our type of jokes never go over well with anyone.” She gave him a pointed look as she tore open the steaming bread. “Especially when they’re that corny.”

Gladwyn’s laugh was sheepish but genuine, and Monica had to respect a guy who could laugh at himself.

Throwing him a bone, she joined in the laughter, nodding. “No, no, I get it! That was, that was clever.”

Gladwyn paused at the compliment, his posture straightening not unlike a flower given a little bit of sunlight. His eyes were riveted to watching Monica’s chest rise and fall with her laughter, his own pulse quickening as he swallowed around his attraction to her. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? No one ever really laughed at his jokes; he knew they were a little awkward and probably not in the best humor, but she called it clever. She thought he was clever. His pulse reflected just how much he liked that, basked in that knowledge, that such a beautiful woman found his wit to be...worthy of her beautiful laugh. It had sent him over the moon to walk into this restaurant with her; he saw the way heads turned, the whispers that the Felina Frenzy was here and though he felt that curious jealousy again, part of him using his impressive height to shield her from inquisitive, needy stares, there was also pride that he was there with her. That others recognized she was there with him. He really liked that thought.

“May I ask the lady’s favorite color?” Gladwyn took the opportunity to get to know Monica same as she was doing with him. He was eager to know her inside and out.

Monica gestured with a smile. “Blue, too.”

It may not be a monumental thing, sharing the same favorite color as someone else; there are only so many colors in the rainbow, after all--but Gladwyn felt that connection like a bolt of lightning. They...they shared a favorite thing? It brightened his smile, widened it until he felt his cheeks ache but he welcomed the sensation. It made him so happy!

“Excellent choice,” he complimented with a conspirator’s playful wink, trying to play it cool when inside, his heart was turning somersaults. Monica’s laughter was light but genuine and it was wreaking havoc on Gladwyn’s nerves, shredding him until he was rubbed raw, left vulnerable to the next tempting thing she was planning to do. He swallowed again, looking up gratefully as their drinks were brought to the table.

“That better be a virgin,” Monica eyed Dot’s Bloody Mary, and Dot gave her a playful look.

“Only thing about me that is, obviously,” she gestured to her generous bump before taking a sip of the blood red concoction.

“What did you get?” Monica turned to Gladwyn, trying to keep the conversation between them going. She knew without having to ask Dot that the reason they’d come to dinner was so she and Gladwyn could get better acquainted...it just helped he was easy to talk to.

“Ah, you’ve caught me, I’m afraid.” Gladwyn lifted his foaming glass with a sheepish grin. “It’s a Dry Stout. I’m Irish every day of the year, not only on St. Paddy’s.”

Monica eyed the glass; it was so dark she couldn’t see through it, and almost resembled coffee though she knew it to be an ale. She laughed a little at his joke, missing his grin brightening in response as she was still admiring his drink choice.

“What have you gotten?” Gladwyn took a swig of his drink, curious eyes on Monica’s beverage choice. It was peach-colored, bubbly, and served in a long-stemmed champagne glass.

“It’s a Gigi,” Monica supplied. “My family is originally from Italy so I’m pretty well-versed in expensive cocktails from Europe.”

Gladwyn’s laughter was honest and washed over Monica as he gave her his undivided attention; she could definitely respect that the man was genuine, there didn’t seem to be anything fake about him in the few hours she’s known him. It was laughter she joined in on, picking up her flute for a gentle, feminine sip.

Gladwyn watched her without blinking, committing her movement to memory with ease; she moved with the grace of a feline, her manicured nails a compliment to the expensive cocktail kissing her lips the way he longed to do--Gladwyn came from wealth and affluence, he knew what it was to be among the elite but Monica was simply on another level. It didn’t surprise him in the slightest to hear her family was of money, she carried herself like a queen and why shouldn’t she? Her throat worked as she swallowed and Gladwyn felt it like a punch to his gut; his muscles actually tightened, his abdomen turning flips as he struggled to get his attraction under control. Monica was doing something awful to him, stealing all his attention and he’d never once felt such a strong pull to another human being in his entire life. The more time he spent in her company, the less he was confused by what was happening. Love at first sight wasn’t an easy thing to dismiss, but it was an easy thing to pin.

“It’s probably rude to ask your age, Gladwyn, but I’m having a hard time pinning you,” Monica set her glass down, meeting Gladwyn’s gaze effortlessly--because he was already looking at her. “So can I ask?”

“You can ask whatever you like, my dear.” Gladwyn would have aged himself with such a formal saying, but at least the slight accent in his rich tenor made sense now that he’d given away his heritage (as if his hair and freckles hadn’t been enough indication) and that endearment certainly came out smoother than the ale in his hand. “But I’m thirty-seven years old.”

“You don’t look it,” Monica reassured, but that was only partially true. Gladwyn didn’t look to be near his forties, but he carried himself that way, and his smile had some age behind it. Likely, due to his ever-present smile, he also had smile lines near the corners of his mouth and around his eyes.

These lines deepened at her compliment and Gladwyn reached over, putting his surprisingly warm hand on her knee. “Thank you, Monica. That’s incredibly sweet of you to say.”

Monica’s gaze dropped to Gladwyn’s long fingers and she felt him squeeze her knee in response; he made no move to remove his hand and she didn’t...know if she should consider this forward of him or not. She was dressed in black slacks and a ruffle-sleeve button-up, having wanted to start looking the part of boss since she would be taking over for Dot but she could feel the heat of Gladwyn’s hand through the fabric of her pants. She would, for some reason, have assumed his hands would be cold as the corpses he worked on daily, but his hands more closely resembled the fire of his hair.

Gladwyn hadn’t even thought before he touched her--he just acted, closed the distance between them as if he had to do it. He cursed that she was wearing slacks and not a skirt, a dress, so anxious was he to feel her soft skin. He knew it was softer than a lily would be, and he knew she smelled sweeter, too. He slowly dragged his gaze up from his hand on her knee, up her front to lock gazes with her and he searched her face--not for signs of refusal but for acceptance. She had to feel what he felt, didn’t she? There was no way only one soulmate would be feeling the instant connection, the attraction that was driving him to complete distraction. There was no other way to describe what he was feeling but soulmate; everything about her clicked like a puzzle piece Gladwyn had been missing his entire life. She didn’t shy away from his smile, she shared the same favorite color as he did; she laughed at his jokes and she found him to be clever. He knew she thought he was nice because she allowed him to pull out her chair for her and she wasn’t pulling away from his touch, now. She had to be feeling what he was...perhaps she was simply shy? Well, of course she was, she was a proper lady. A right beautiful one. A woman who deserved to be wooed properly, courted in the way a man of Gladwyn’s upbringing could. His smile deepened, and he gave her knee another longing squeeze before he slowly, reluctantly removed it. He wouldn’t push his luck, now that he was more convinced she shared what he was feeling, that slow-burning but all-consuming fire that was licking at his heart like flames.

“Are we ready to order?”

The server started at the head of the table, or perhaps it was simply Dot being pregnant, but it allowed Gladwyn a moment to wrangle with his returning jealousy--because any moment, the man was going to turn to Monica and speak to her...and Gladwyn really hated that. He was staring, unseeing, at his own menu, his mind narrowing to how he was going to...deal with this. He’d never considered himself a jealous man before, had never felt such raw, biting emotion in all his life but then he hadn’t known his soulmate before today. Monica was beautiful, a siren’s call to any man and while he would never blame her for such beauty, no it was his good fortune she was breath-taking, he didn’t have to like others noticing her. His eyes slipped from his menu, moving discreetly to Monica and again, he felt his pulse spike, his throat run dry, and he fidgeted in his seat. If he needed proof, he had it; physical proof. His body reacted every single time he looked at her.

“And you, Miss?”

Monica shifted, her eyes on her menu. “I’ll have--”

“Would you order for me, Monica?”

Gladwyn interjected into the conversation without much forethought; he was only grateful what he’d said made sense. Monica seemed to flounder a little, and he could regret catching her off-guard...but she took her attention off the waiter and it reinforced he’d done the right thing. Gladwyn had to fight to keep his smile from going smug that he’d so easily gotten her attention back.

“O-Of...course, but I don’t really know you very well?” Monica faltered, looking worried. “What if...I order something you won’t like?”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.” Gladwyn set his menu down on his plate with his smile lighting his eyes. “You have impeccable taste. You can’t steer me wrong if it’s good enough for you.”

Monica’s smile was still nervous, still unsure, but Gladwyn looked like he’d made up his mind and she could only nod, turning to order for herself...and for him.

It was a small compromise, Gladwyn still hated that she spoke to the waiter, loathed that the man was admiring her so openly, but at least he’d staked something of a claim on her in front of the other male. It made him feel better, sated his childish, unfounded jealousy--no, it wasn’t unfounded! He had a right to her, to the other half of his soul. That was how it worked. That was the reward for the way he felt about her; he felt so strongly, of course he wouldn’t want someone else looking at her, thinking about her. No one had the right to even dream of touching her, no one except him.

Dinner did what Dot had intended...and it did a little more than she’d intended, at the same time. The two hours passed by in the blink of an eye, the trio exchanging stories, learning about one another and as the time passed, the more Gladwyn became convinced of what he felt to be true. Monica was the other half of his soul, the fabled soulmate promised to hopeless romantics and skeptics alike. She was perfect; she was beautiful, hauntingly so, in that he knew she would be in his dreams tonight--if he was able to sleep from wanting her. She was witty, humorous, intelligent; she was clever and her sarcasm was so biting he nearly wished to be at the receiving end just to feel the scrape of her teeth. When Monica smiled she stole the light from the room; she was radiant, and Gladwyn felt himself drowning every time she turned that smile to him. Her voice was what silk was made of, sliding over his skin until twice he’d nearly dropped his fork against his plate when she said his name. It was...too soon, perhaps, to think of late nights with her body wrapped around his but he couldn’t stop himself from going there, from crossing that sordid line because she aroused him so fervently his appetite was of an entirely different sort. He’d finished two stouts in the hopes it would douse the fire building in his belly but all it did was warm him further, made his brain a little hazy so that the lines between right and wrong blurred further. He was seated beside an angel, his angel, and the expensive food turned sour in his mouth for want to sample her instead.

This must be what it felt like to be lovesick, to be so enamored with one’s adoration that food and drink lose their taste. Gladwyn seemed to have fallen down the rabbit hole with no hope to catch himself on the sides--would he have? If he were honest with himself, no, he wouldn’t have. He dove headfirst down this trap, chasing Monica’s laugh, her voice, the way she looked at him, smiled at him. The way she made him feel should be criminal, he was already so addicted to the man he was when she looked at him. The glasses were emptied, the bill was paid, and all too soon reality was severing his time with Monica and for a fleeting moment he panicked at the void that would be left when they went their separate ways for the night.

“Thank you, Gladwyn,” Monica stood with his help as he pulled her chair out for her, and his smile was a little subdued but still present as he held up her jacket, for her to slip into it.

“It’s cold outside,” he prompted, fighting to keep the hard edge from his voice when it seemed she was going to simply take it from him. He wanted her to wear it. He wouldn’t have her catching cold, and his smile broadened when she slipped her arms into it. “There we are. That’s better, hm?”

Monica’s smile was a touch shy as Gladwyn’s large hands rubbed up her arms, smoothing her jacket and warming her further beneath the expensive fabric. He placed his hand at the small of her back, giving his head a nod toward the door and he tailored his steps to match hers despite their staggering height difference.

“So, what do you two think?” Dot turned from the front door of the restaurant, the valet sprinting out into the snow to retrieve her truck. “Think you’ll be okay to work together for a while?”

Monica turned to look up at Gladwyn but he was already looking at her, and he gestured to Dot with a nod of his head. “Ladies first.”

“I-I, yes, I don’t see any problems.” Monica gave Dot a smile, knowing Dot would be looking for any signs that Monica wasn’t comfortable--this would be a question Dot would ask again when the two were alone in her truck.

“I’m delighted to hear that, as I can assure I’m very much looking forward to working with Monica.” Gladwyn tore his smile away from Monica when he felt Dot was still staring at him. “You’ll be fine to relax at home, Miss Dreadful. We’ll have no problems working together.”

Dot looked between Gladwyn and Monica, making a thoughtful noise at the back of her throat but she nodded, her smile reaching her eyes. “Good. Then you’ll be in charge of the morgue 7AM, Monday morning, Mr. Charles.”

Gladwyn gave Dot a nod, but his attention was already turning to Monica as Dot’s truck rolled to a stop in front of the restaurant. He moved his hand from the small of her back, already loathing the space between their bodies and knowing there’d be more, much more, over the weekend. It was all he could do to keep himself calm with the reassurance that he’d be working very closely with Monica on Monday.

“It was a pleasure getting to know you, Monica. I’m very much looking forward to continuing to get to know you during our time together.” Gladwyn bowed his spine, no hesitation as he pressed his lips to her cheek. “I will see you soon. Take care of yourself until then.”

Monica’s fingers trembled as they settled on Gladwyn’s arm, and she felt his hand steady her waist in response. “H-Have a nice weekend, Gladwyn. I’ll see y-you Monday.”

“I look forward to it.” Gladwyn straightened up, replacing his hand in his pant’s pocket, watching Monica take hold of Dot’s arm, the two girls leaning on one another as the valet opened the door into the winter cold.

Without a word, he gave his keys to the valet but kept his gaze on Monica as she entered the truck, and as they drove off, he kept his gaze riveted to the vehicle disappearing in New Senzannini’s generous traffic. It wasn’t until Monica was out of sight that he was able to look away, the spell of her presence lifted enough for him to feel...completely and utterly alone. The smile dropped off his face fast enough to shatter on the marble floor beneath his dress shoes, and the valet nearly tripped coming back inside after retrieving Gladwyn’s car.

It would seem the only thing creepier than Gladwyn’s smile was when he didn’t smile, but for the first time in his life, he found he had no reason to, at the moment. The reason was currently driving further and further away from him, to live a life separate from him, where she didn’t have to think about him, didn’t have to see him, where he couldn’t see her, where he couldn’t touch her...

...for now.

Gladwyn pushed open the restaurant doors with one strong hand, ignoring the biting cold wind as he stalked toward his waiting car. Monday wasn’t too far away. Besides, the weekend gave him time to prepare, to make room in his life for a very special new someone. It had to be perfect. Everything had to be perfect.

Just like she was.

Stay tuned! ♥ Next Update: February 17th!

[shelbygrayltd]

Actually, he's doing me today. - J Cody

Tick. Tick. Tick. Seconds feeling like minutes as they passed, each minute feeling like an hour. I hadn't seen J in a month, and god that month felt like hell on earth, even after weeks of pleading and pleading with him to take me with him, he'd still said no. In his eyes I were safer with another Cody only a phonecall away.

Mexico felt like a dream to me, J promising to take us away from all this bullshit, that was the deal, he'd save enough, pull any job he could just to scramble enough to get us both out. And now with Smurf in prison, I knew he felt more free, more like himself. For the past month I gave in to him; letting Deran keep a watch over me even though he swore J didnt say shit to him and having Craig stop me going too crazy, or drinking too much just that bit sooner with him on nights in, but even though he joked that it was because he couldn't keep up, I just knew J had said something.

It was no surprise that J had gained control in this relationship, and as tough and fiesty as I knew I could be, he knew how to show me he still had that power, even when he wasnt right by my side. Even so, Id been stupid enough to let him to persuade me to wait up for him tonight. When he'd told me he'd be late I'd assumed he meant around midnight but as 5am rolled around I knew oh how very wrong I was.

The sound of the lock turning made me sit bolt up on my knees, trying my hardest not to look tired or for better words, shattered. When he slipped through the door, he looked just as he did when he'd left but he was more tanned now, his eyes seemed brighter and as his eyes caught mine, his face lit up. He dropped his blue rucksack at the foot of the bed, climbing on the matress to me, capturing my lips in a deep kiss.

He was magical, and I were sure it was only a dream until my head hit the pillows, and his body was still ontop of mine, kissing me with such passion that I was left speechless. "I wanted to be mad at you, Joshua, but you walk in here and kiss me like that and i can't bring myself to be angry."

"I'll make it up to you, all we've missed," he started peppering kisses along my neck , making me melt into him. "Just don't stop saying my name." my voice was 'music to his ears' as he'd said before and as much as i knew he resented being called Joshua or even Josh for that matter, he'd let me, just because of how good it sounded to him, raw in his ears; that was heaven to him.

I'd managed to slow him down and get him talking about his month away; all the near misses and the triumphant points. He kept saying how much he loved me, he wanted us and only us, He knew the boundaries of this second chance, and He'd pushed it with this trip, but he swore then and there that it was all for us.

And he'd done it, the waiting and praying paid off and now we had enough, to live comfortably, to buy our house together and go. He wanted to celebrate but I on the other hand coaxed him into spending a couple hours with us wrapped up, just talking, smiling, laughing. He was soppy as soon as I said how lonely I'd felt, pressing gentle kisses to my shoulder, mubling about how sorry he was. It didn't take long for his lips to find my neck again, and for him to start replacing the nearly fully faded marks.

"don't tease me, J, I've waited too damn long for you". From then on it was tunnel vision for him, I was so focused on him that I'd hardly heard his phone ring a third time. He sat between your legs, biting his lip gently, before leaning down to press a dizzying kiss to my lips, leaving him long enough to pull off my underwear.

Once his fingers were inside me, it was enough to pull me from the silence I'd kept; the room filling with moans as he continued to tease me ever so slightly. The fourth ring of his phone was driving me crazy, I needed him left alone. "Give me your phone, J." He tossed me the cell, before lowering down so that his face was level with my pussy.

His rough hands pulled your hips closer to his face, his tonuge making light work on my pussy, sending you into a bliss I'd previously craved. My fingers tangled into his soft curls, as I moaned out for him. "Fuck, Josh, that's so good."

I answered the phone, pulling it to my ear, staright away having Pope's voice ramble on. "J where the fuck are you, we're supposed to be doing property shit for smurf." he finally finishes. I laugh slightly. "Actually, he's doing me today, so I'm afraid you'll have to cover it on your own." J pulls the phone from my hands, ending the call, and turning the phone off. "No distractions."

I knew he wanted to make me know that he was in control, so he pulled away, leaving me craving more, yet he stood smirking down at me, with a lustful darkness in his eyes. My breathing was heavy and I was looking up at him with a furrowed brow; frustrated about the amount of clothes he was wearing. So I reach out to him to pull his shirt over his head, only to be met with my hands being pinned above my head.

"It feels like i haven't touched you in years, yet you're fucking soaking for me." I lean up slightly only to catch his lips in another teasing kiss, tugging his bottom lip between my teeth as he pulls away. I speak in a hushed tone, legs wrapping around his hips as he's hovering above you. "Then fuck me like an animal, J, you know you've missed being rough with me."

His hips had me pinned into the sheets as he slowly sank into me, and I'm sure that if it wasnt for my soft moans or fngers wrapping around his bicep, he'd have already fucked me halfway across the room. He was an animal when he wanted to be, but right now he was flling me up to the hilt so fucking slowly I swore I could feel every vein, and we both knew what was coming, and he just wanted me to feel it. I could hardly find the time to adjust to him before he'd pulled nearly all the way out before thrusting back in roughly; not stopping there but continuing go build up a rough, deep and fast pace.

He was starved, and was ravishing all of me like the predator finishing its prey. J's fingers were gripping my hips with such passion and roughness that I could feel them brusing the harder he fucked me, and oh I wanted nothing more than for him to mark and take what was his. "Are you gonna cum for me, baby?"

All I could pull together was a string of moans as I felt it, building and building. My nails were dragging down his back, as he pushed me through your release, while coming down from his own.

Two weeks had gone by, and we were packing all the last minute things, nearly ready to go. The boys knew and they were happy for us both. I stood, looking out the mountains of shit, assessing everything and making sure everything was in order, "You think we have everything?" after no response you turn around "..J?" I hear him speak softly, I look down to see him sat on the floor with a ring between his fingers.. "Will you marry me?" he was still looking down at the ring between his fingers, "I'm not traditional, I don't play by the book. I'm indecisive and my thoughts never fail to stray back to you, you my are my idea of romance with either a long deep and meaningful chat or I fuck you into next week and yet you're the one person who gets me." He sighs, looking up at me as if it were the first time, "At least this Is one step towards our family life." I sit infront of him, taking the ring before throwing my arms around him, "Yes, J, Ill marry you."

after being sat there together, exchanging soft kisses and letting him slip the beautiful diamond ring onto my finger, I finally get to my feet, "I'm gonna take these last little bags out to the car and then I'll help with the boxes, yeah?" He smiles up at me, i lend a hand and help pull him to his feet, he tilts my chin up before pressing a gentle kiss to my lips.

I haul one bag over my shoulder, holding the car keys in one hand and another duffle in the other, I step out onto the drive, and walk toward the car, opening up the boot to squeeze the last bags in. I'm taken by surprise when a hand covers my mouth and the barrel of a gun is pressed to my temple. "Don't make a sound," the unfamiliar male voice speaks, his accent holding a Mexican accent to it. "You play nice and I wont hurt you, probably cody's little plaything huh?" I choke back tears, reaching up to try and pull the man's hand from my mouth. "Beautiful ring there, a shame," he pauses, "This makes things a whole lot more interesting."

[griffinmitchell]

Wells of Deva Chapter 2 Half Giant

After delivering six of the daggers to three prisoners, sunlight hits the top of the unfinished wall. Fordar examines the prisoners between Aela and the giants. He realizes that those few cages might be in a better peripheral view to the giants than the others.

“Better get those unlocked right now before it gets any brighter.” He thinks to himself. Fordar unspools a section of wire, burns it up and points to the humongous man with the thick black mane. “Look towards me, I’m sending the key over. Do not let it hit the bars. Unlock your cage then hold the key behind you so I can send it to the next person without it hitting anything.”

Kuragar doesn’t respond. Wizards prying around in his head is the quickest way to infuriate him, and this one is especially long winded. But being in this tiny cage is worse. He looks to the right and sees the key. He reaches between the bars and grabs it. The key’s uncomfortable in Kuragar’s massive fingers. He’ll have to pay close attention to the way he holds it, so it doesn’t slip from his grip. He curls his arm around the bars, scraping both sides of his forearms on the adjacent metal. He has to squeeze his bicep in between them to get his elbow in the right position to be able to get the key in the hole.

“Clever dwarf, to make me go first while still dark” Kuragar thinks to himself as he turns the key. Kuragar isn’t confident that his arm is going to squeeze back out without a bit of force. He can imagine himself slamming the back of the cage with the key in full sight as he recoils from the effort. So, after twisting the key and pulling it out he waves it around signaling Fordar to grab it.

Fordar jolts to attention, “Stupid oaf, don’t wave it around!” he thinks to himself while quickly reaching out to grab it. The key is 40 feet away, Fordar whispers “hånd” and closes his hand as if grabbing it. Kuragar feels pressure around his fingers and lets go. Kuragar waits for the key to retreat before forcing his arm free of the bars. With a free hand he has more control now to squeeze out quietly and slump back into the cage. Fordar retracts his right hand at a downward angle towards his midsection, swooping the key lower to the ground. Closing the gap between Kuragar and the next prisoner. Then raising his hand to his left shoulder, he brings the key to the hand of a woman with patches of blonde hair missing, dried blood marks the areas where hair used to be.

­­ An hour later, Aela watches an adamantine dagger dancing over the ground quickly making its way to the last cage. The sun beating down on it creates glistening beams of metallic light which frequently catch her eyes. The giants seem too preoccupied enjoying what’s left of the fire’s burning embers to notice. The dagger reaches the last man, a human with dark brown skin just like hers. She used to ask her father why it was that the two of them had darker skin than mom, and why she’d never met anyone else who shared the color. Her father never had an answer for that. He would tell Aela that he’d met others with darker skin during his travels, but none of them knew either. The history of the world before is a mystery to many, and those who know the tales are eagerly listened to as their stories are told. They say, once there were cities that would spread for miles on end, filled with people from all around the world. Thousands of them living side by side. Intermingled with businesses that would collect things from outside the city so no one ever had to leave the safety of the walls if they didn’t want to. The idea of thousands of people was enough for Aela’s imagination to be pushed to the boundaries of unbelievable. In her 24 years she’s only seen maybe 50 people, and only met possibly 30 of them. The others she had seen at a distance, or were people who had attacked Aukra. Wolves, deer, and elk were more prevalent in her life than humans, dwarves or elves.

This experience with these other prisoners makes Aela’s perspective broaden to the idea that there are other villages like Aukra. Her father had found one or two of them in his hunting trips but they were usually gone by the next time he went out into the woods, either abandoned or missing. However, these dwarves don’t seem to have any inclination of moving any time soon. If these walls they’re building are anything like the walls from before the dark, they’ll be here for hundreds of years. Aela imagines herself guarding them, protecting this unfinished town from atop the wall. But first the wall will have to be finished, and the giants will have to be on the other side of it. She watches Fordar throughout the morning. Slipping his hands into pockets, weaving signs, maneuvering keys and daggers between the cages whenever the giants are distracted. It’s like a dance, a conductor of a great orchestra. Commanding pianissimo as the key hovers low to the ground, a great crescendo to bring the key to the hands of a man who’s eyes strain as the music pushes his emotions to something more. Pointing at the brass section to make sure the coming of the climax is clearly communicated to the crowd, Aela. The single audience member to a movement with an unpredictable ending. Then abrupt silence as the giants turn their heads, hearts beating with suspense. A small dance of Fordar’s fingers and the piece is off again.

“Time to go.” Commands Jachin, standing up from the fire and stretching his arms and neck towards the sky “Aja, Helek, Grosta, Ashub.” He continues, “Jijah says one more human village to the east. Wooden walls and horses. Bring spears and shields.”

A look of excitement washes over Helek’s face “Horses don’t need cages! Means we can take more and eat whenever we want, don’t need to save humans for tomorrow!”

“Ya Helek, new rule when you come back with the horses” assures Bograk.

Helek prances with joy skipping over to Kuragar’s cage and squatting down to look at him. “Thick one’s gonna make Helek sleep real nice tonight Bograk.” he schemes while looking into Kuragars eyes.

“You’ll sleep for rest of time when your bones decorate my garden” Kuragar threatens.

“Say that again when I shit you in the woods half breed!” Helek shouts, spittle splattering Kuragar.

“Shouldn’t play with food that can kill you Helek.” Bograk warns.

He snorts and snears at Kuragar before turning away, “Let’s get them horses, then I show him Bograk.” Helek says as he picks up a 10-foot-long spear.

The five giants walk between a gap in the middle of the wall. Leaving only four giants left in the camp, fifteen prisoners, and thirty daggers. The pounding in Kuragar’s chest makes him realize that he’ll no longer be able to control himself. His mind twisting with a maddening sickness, a vile disgust for everything he’d done until now. Unforgivable, unspeakable things. Things he’s only been able to get past because his giant brothers have done worse than that. Like they’re doing now, the half of himself that Kuragar wishes would disappear.

“We’ll wait twenty minutes. Enough for the giants to be long gone.” Whispers Fordar into the thoughts of the other prisoners. “Reclaim this wall, and the city of Kazak will raise children old enough to have families of their own. Reclaim this wall and we’ll protect your families and build a castle for your friends. We’ll set their beds with sheets and blankets so you can kiss their heads goodnight.”

Aela listening to the words kneels down onto her feet and sits on her heels. By grabbing her knees she’s able to steady her breathing. In preparation, Fordar begrudgingly takes off his belt. Looking at the leather always brings memories of the wolf that almost killed Gobber. As they skinned the beast that nearly bested the youngest brother they made a pact, they would always protect each other. One of the dozens of pacts they had made over the years. Fordar takes the belt and wraps it around his wrist a few times until the length is used up. Placing a hand over the belt, he whispers “Rustning”. The belt melts away like silver in a hot pan. Stuck to Fordar’s skin, the melting leather spreads up his arm, under his sleeve and up his shoulder. Around his neck and over his face. Down his chest and onto his legs. The liquid leather stretches thin as it reaches the tips of his toes, making his skin a slightly darker tint but hard as leather.

Grinding teeth was the only thing that distracted Kuragar to wait these five grueling minutes. He pivots his feet to the back of the cage pushing them into the corner. Resting his head on the door and squatting down he leans forward to make it look like he’s stretching his legs. The rate of his breathing quickens, like the thrumming of a train engine. Slow heavy exhales as the train begins to move brings strength to his legs. Building rapidly to focus his mind, he opens his eyes and sees Bograk. His breathing sharp and quick to fill his lungs until his heavy breath matches his heart beat.

SLAM! The cage door swings open crashing into the hinges. The cage tumbles to the ground behind him from the recoil of Kuragar’s push. The stomachs of the other prisoners drop as he sprints towards Bograk fifteen minutes earlier than planned. Before the prisoners can even sit up, Kuragar is already halfway to the giants who are still gathered around the empty fire pit. A spark of anger lights in Fordar’s stomach as this half giant ruins the plan that he’s taken so long to put into motion.

“Bastard gets to take a nap while I’m up all night stretching my mind farther into the void. He’ll ruin everything!” Fordar grumbles into his own thoughts, but that doesn’t stop him from perceiving the scene.

Kuragar almost to the giant, his daggers pointing down to the ground stabbing the air with every stroke of his arm.

“He’s gonna jump and stab them into the giant’s neck” Fordar thinks to himself, watching Bograk whipping his head around “But pebble brain ruined his element of surprise when he threw his cage to the ground. Bograks gonna swat him out of the air like a yipping dog. A nine-foot-tall dog, but still a dog in the face of these mountains.”

Fordar kicks open his cage, Kuragar leaps into the air both hands rising above his head. Bograk swings an open hand around himself, spinning to counter Kuragar’s attack. Fordar slams his open palms onto the ground and shouts “Skelve!”

Rattling metal sings through the air as the ground trembles. The metal cages shake violently, their passengers holding onto the bars bracing for the sudden wild ride. Despite the squareness of the cages, some of them teeter before tipping completely over. The shifting earth forces Bograk to jolt. His head leans back and a foot leaves the ground, making him waver to keep balance on the other. Which is lost completely as Kuragar tips the scales.

Soaring through the air unaffected by the shaking ground, Kuragar slams into Bograk. Both daggers simultaneously plunge into the giant’s chest, his aim lower than expected from the giant’s unpredictable movement. Bograk loses all balance and falls to his back, laden with Kuragar upon his chest. He missed the neck, but knocking Bograk completely to the ground gives Kuragar the unique opportunity to rip the daggers out of his chest and plunge them back in, again, and again.

The giant’s thick stony skin creates a tremendous layer of natural armor. The adamantine daggers don’t have an issue piercing the hard surface but they still are only daggers. Being crafted by dwarves makes them more like butter knives in the hands of Kuragar. Seven plunges into Bograk’s chest and the other three giants regain their footing. Fordar’s brothers roll out of their tipped cages stumbling to their feet along with the other prisoner’s. Rushing towards the fight, they all see Bograk’s open hand lurch towards Kuragar. It grabs him by the shoulder, not much different than a parent grabbing their child. Bograk throws him to the side like tossing off a blanket after waking up and discovering that you’re gonna be late. Kuragar rag dolls through the air before slamming his entire right side into the wall of the dwarven home. The stone cracks and Kuragar’s bones shutter. A splatter of blood marks the white stone of the building. Kuragar reaches out to catch his fall but his head is spinning from the impact and his arms collapse from his own weight and his head bounces off the dirt. Bograk rolls to his stomach, forcing himself to his knees. With one hand planted to his own chest, blood starts to fill his palm drizzling through the fingers. He coughs, splattering the dirt with more blood.

Fordar’s vision goes blurry as if burnt from staring at the sun. The clear indicator that he’s used to much magic. Sending his mind to the void feels like the moment before consciousness fades to dream. Coming back more exhausted each time. Like a night where four hours of sleep should have been eight. With each spell he casts, the four hours turn to three and three turns turn to two as the consciousness fades farther away. His arms start to shake from holding himself up, his open palms still on the ground from casting the spell. He slumps backwards into the cage and looks at his hands. Each finger twitching uncontrollably like he’s playing an invisible piano on his lap. He looks up to his brothers charging into battle and quickly loses their shapes as they disappear into his foggy vision. “I can’t stop now.” He thinks to himself as he grabs the two daggers.

Aela pops the hood of her cage and vaults to the other side going to a low crouch considering her approach. The three giants leap between Bograk and the twelve incoming prisoners. Aela considers the route behind the building that she took the night before. She purses her lips and lets out a steady breath.

“Pretend you’re blowing out a candle. Imagine the flame wisping away into smoke.” Something her father would tell her when the internal screaming would get too loud. She lunges into a careful sprint.

“Aela the Giant Slayer.” she imagines as she sprints to the building, taking a wide curve to hopefully go unnoticed by the chaos. “Can I do it again? Are you watching me Marrek? Mom?”

She looks towards the battle just in time to see the blonde woman take a kick from Zibah. The massive foot impacts the woman’s entire chest. She twists through the air, her back obviously broken as her head touches the back of her feet. Bonder, the hairiest brother, swoops under the swinging kick rushing in towards the giant’s planted leg. Aela looks away before the woman’s body hits the ground. Her imagination can’t resist the image of her own body flying through the air like that.

“Just keep moving” she thinks, motivating herself “Get behind the building, see what I can do from there. If they don’t see me, I can come from behind and slice the back of their knees. Then get sat on.”

With his head still spinning, Kuragar gets to his hands and knees wincing from a sharp pain in his shoulder. He strains his neck to look at Bograk who’s already kneeling back up. Kuragar realizes that he’s now separated from the rest of the prisoners. The three other giants are directly behind Bograk fighting the outbreak. Surprised disgust washes over Bograk’s face watching Kuragar recover from the throw.

“Guess you really are giant after all.” Bograk says between painful breaths.

He gets to his feet and starts a limping sprint towards Kuragar. He sags with every step but Bograk closes the distance with 3 massive strides. Planting his foot on the third to steady himself for a kick that will surely finish off the half giant. Kuragar puts his entire weight on one knee using his other limbs to twist himself towards the kick. Kuragar spreads his arms out to allow Bograk to get a clear target of his chest. Bograk’s shin covers the length of Kuragar’s upper body. His arms forcefully wrap around the giant’s legs. Kuragar smashes into the wall behind him making a second indentation below the first. Blood sprays out of Kuragar’s mouth, covering Bograk’s shin. He slides from the wall to his knees before collapsing onto his stomach. Bograk steps back from the kick and a sharp pain appears on the inside of his thigh. Inspecting the discomfort, he sees a massive gash starting at the top of his inner thigh running down to the top of his knee. Where an adamantine dagger has embedded itself. The torrential flow of blood down his leg makes him lightheaded. He stumbles backwards as his knee gives out, collapsing onto his back.

Aela gets to the building and presses her back against the wall. The sounds of steel, flesh, rock and bone crash around the building. Aela blows out a candle to recenter herself. She pivots around the corner leading to the back of the building before grinding to a stop. She notices a wooden longbow leaning against the wall directly below the window she’d escaped through the night before. Movement from the window sill draws Aela’s attention to look up. Beating wings and scraping talons mark the sudden appearance of an owl perching in the still open window. Hanging from the owl’s beak is the shoulder strap of a quiver full of arrows. With an outstretched neck the owl drops the quiver and it clatters to the ground next to the bow. Without a glance the owl beats its wings and soars to the higher reaches of the mountain lingering above the wall. Aela gapes at the owl before returning to the longbow that has appeared in front of her.

“One of the longbows from inside the house?” she perplexes over the situation. “What’s going on?” she continues to wonder, picking up the hand-crafted bow. “Maybe Fordar had this trick up his sleeve too…”

She straps the quiver around her waist and continues around the building. Still confused but stuck in a moment without time to think about it, she knocks one of the arrows into the string. Her father had taught her how to hunt. It was a rite of passage for everyone who lived in Aukra. Whether you watched the children or cooked the dinner, everyone in the village learned to hunt for times of sickness or worse. Aela had killed a handful of deer throughout her life, and one man. A shaggy brown-haired boy not much older than herself. She’ll never forget his restful face as he lay dead in the long grass surrounding Aukra, her arrow piercing through his neck. She often thought of the boy, longing for an explanation for the attack. The stockpiles of meat and leather, maybe the women. All possibilities her father had considered. If they had only shared words with them before firing on the village, perhaps they could have joined their efforts of survival. Maybe then, their strength would have been great enough to protect Aukra from the giant’s attack.

Aela stares at the last corner taking in hectic breaths. Still holding the arrow to the string, she fiddles her fingers making sure their placement is good. With the bow and arrow in hand, she no longer has the thought of being sat on, but that doesn’t give much relief. Around the corner she can hear the others fighting, and probably dying.

“No! Don’t think about that!” She shutters with a stamp of her foot. “Don’t think, just go.”

Returning to her low crouch, she starts a jog and passes the threshold of the corner. The giants have now equipped themselves with the very spears that pierced Marrek through the chest. A few of the prisoners now share a close resemblance to that scene.

Bograk’s laying face first on the ground, Kuragar doing the same. Three more are still alive, the unnamed giant on the ground with Bondor on his chest. The dwarf is twisting his dagger around the giant’s eye socket. A boy no older than fifteen is stabbing the same giant repeatedly in the neck below Bondor’s feet.

Zibah, has the dark-skinned human in her grasp and the giant is reeling her arm back to throw the man. Unlike with Kuragar, the giant can grab this man like you’d grab the hilt of a sword, or a stick that you’d throw for a dog to fetch. A swing of her arm and the man soars into the air and over the wall. His introduction to the ground hidden from view.

Kijak has a spear drawn back preparing for a thrust to skewer Bondor to stop him from digging into the giant’s eye. Aela aims, straining the bow to its designed limits. The wood creaks and the arrow’s feathers graze her right cheek. Blowing out a candle, she releases the drawstring at the end of the breath.

Feathers rustle in the wind and it gouges into the right eye of the readying giant. Forcing him to recoil from the strike and drop the spear. Bondor’s giant goes limp as he swaps his dagger from one eye to the next. Kijak screams in pain fueled with anger of being unable to save his dying clansmen. Bondor notices his giant has gone limp and turns to face the next. Kijak stumbles backwards, both hands grasping his impaled eye in hopes that the pressure will relieve the pain. He steps onto one of the four prisoners lying dead on the ground. Their chest and skull caves in under the pressure.

Unless the dark-skinned man survived the fall on the other side of the wall, that makes for five dead prisoners and two more giants. Zibah settles back in from her impressive throw and turns to reconsider the battle in front of her. Bondor locks her gaze, enticing Zibah into confrontation.

“Come on leather tits, my brother’s prettier than you are!” Bondor beckons while flipping a dagger in his hand to grab it by the tip.

With a curl of his arm and a throw, Bondor sends the dagger spiraling through the air puncturing Zibah’s right shoulder. With another steadying breath and a smooth release at the end of a focused thought, Aela sends an arrow into Zibah’s neck. She recoils but her consciousness remains unlike the boy from Aukra. With a flick of her wrist Zibah whirls her spear like a baton, unphased by the two impalements. She reaffirms her grip and starts a lumbering sprint. The head of the spear points to the sky with the first step, and to the ground with the next and then a thrust towards Bondor’s chest on the third. Gobber, the third dwarven brother, catches his opportunity to strike the lumbering spearman while she’s distracted with Bondor. The giant’s attention drawn to his brother with the focus of trying to thread a needle, doesn’t see the beardless dwarf sprinting behind her left side. Zibah thrusts her spear to pierce the eyelet and SLASH! Gobber runs a dagger across the back of the giant’s knee forcing her to buckle and swing upwards. Gobber’s happiness is evident from his massive smile accentuated from his chubby hairless face.

“Gobber slash knee Bondor! Me think dead soon Bondor!” Gobber shouts mocking the giant.

“Jokes?” Aela can’t help but think to herself. “Does his blood-soaked feet not send his heart to the darkest depths of the breach?” she wonders as she rests another arrow into place.

The door of the dwarven home bursts open as Fordar barrels through, three longswords cradled in his arms.

“Brother!” He shouts as he under hands the first one to Bondor.

He runs up to Gobber who grabs the second sword by the hilt and pulls it from the sheath between Fordar’s arms. Dropping the empty sheath, Fordar readies his own blade as Bondor catches the one thrown to him. With a swirl of the hilt Bondor’s sheath flings off the blade and he smoothly transitions into a fighting stance. The three of them charge in.

With the longer reach of their blades, they’re able to lean into the cuts and then quickly recoil to avoid a reaction. Zibah spins in a circle, locking the shaft of the spear under her elbow to secure it for the impact of a dwarf. Gobber ducks and Bondor rolls, but Fordar’s mind is still stretched from sending it into the void through the night. He stumbles back and the spear slices across his chest and shoulders, cutting clean through his woolen jacket but gliding off his leather hardened skin.

Aela’s heart drops as the giant with an arrow through his eye, Kijak, locks onto her with his one good eye, his face twisting with malice. She can feel the spear of hatred stabbing through her heart from the other side of camp. Swooping his fallen spear from the ground he takes an Olympic throwing stance. Statues wouldn’t be able to paint a better picture than this war-torn desperate giant. A prance forward to lean back into the throw, then a heave. All his weight presses into his front foot and the spear screams through the air. Aela swoops to the side drawing back an arrow in the same movement and slides down to a knee. She pulls the arrow to her cheek, an outstretched finger pointing at the giant’s last eye. Breath, release, and the arrow pierces Kijak’s second eye and the giant goes blind.

The explosion of rage that fills the camp rips even Gobber’s smile off his face. The blind giant screams into his open palms. His howls of pain quickly fade to a roar of action. His hands close to a fist as they lower to his side. His chest pumps as he inhales fury, his arms flex as he exhales malice. He lurches forward with tremendous speed, his pounding steps equally powerful to Fordar’s earthquake. His right foot shakes the earth, his right shoulder rams Zibah into a pirouette before stumbling to the ground. His left foot lurches directly above Bondor. The dwarf raises his hands to brace for impact as Kijak’s left foot comes down on him. Not enough time to dodge, barely enough time to stiffen. He disappears into the dirt as he folds into himself. Aela is next in line in the charging giant’s trajectory. She rolls to the right, tucking the bow into her stomach and somersaulting through the dirt. He slams into the wall behind her knocking slabs of stone to the ground as a portion of the wall collapses. Without a pause of motion, the giant grabs a handful of rocks while spinning around. He throws a shower of pebbles in front of him. A pebble to a giant but a stone to Aela. One of them smashes into her forehead.

“Gah!” an unstoppable wince just loud enough for the giant to find her.

He stomps towards her, his malicious motivation sends Aela to the darkest pit of anxiety. Amplified with vengeance his speed is too great. He swoops her from the ground and her arms get forced to her side as she becomes nothing more than a twig in his tremendous fingers. A simple squeeze and she’ll break like a brittle piece of bread. CRACK! There goes her rib. SNAP! Her shoulder. The wind of something soars past Aela’s face and a dagger stabs into the giant’s temple. Blood runs down his face, his grip goes limp and he falls to the ground. Aela rolls out of his hand like a poisoned apple. She looks up and sees the dark-skinned man leaning in the opening of the wall recovering from throwing the dagger. Breathing heavily from being thrown himself.

Gobber, not failing to seize the opportunity presented to him, jumps on the Zibah’s neck. Like a territorial flag he stabs his sword into the giant’s jugular. Stumbling back, he watches Zibah for another movement. After several heavy breaths and deciding that the giant’s dead, Gobber falls to his back. Exhausted, he looks to the crushed remnants of his brother. No more laughter, no more fighting, only tears.

[elsewhereuniversity]

Me and My Shadow, a Freshman Story

Alex couldn’t remember applying to Elsewhere University, that’s how it worked sometimes, but the course he was accepted on was perfect for him. He loved the feel of the liberal arts college, but their Computer Sciences department had a great reputation too, he wasn’t sure how he hadn’t been rooting for this school all along.

The suggestions for living on campus seemed a little silly, he mulled over them a few times, puzzled by the descriptions of salt and iron, and outright baffled by the need to use a fake name.  He spent the summer determined to ignore them. He would be a voice of reason amongst the student body, he thought, as he imagined parading around with his real name printed on a teeshirt, emblazoned on his backpack. Nevertheless, as the day of his departure grew ever closer, he relented, and packed a handful of iron washers, a large canister of salt, and a thesaurus to pick a name from. If he had to live by a pseudonym for the next 3 years, he wanted an impressive one. Alex hadn’t been popular at school, much more of a wallflower than the centre of any social circles. This year would be different, he wanted a name that stood out, a name that would bring an air of mystery.

By the time he set foot on campus, Alex was Shadow, and Shadow was cool.

The first few weeks of school, Shadow managed to keep his social profile higher than he ever had before. Parties every week, no embarrassing stories to follow him from high school. It was the best few weeks of his life and, while the following weeks never quite compared, Shadow built up a reputation. The cost, however, was his grades.

The first few projects Shadow handed in were graded poorly. He fought the feelings of embarrassment at the idea of failing, he had never gotten less than an A in his life, even at Elsewhere, it only took a couple of months before he was called before his Professor.

“ Look, Shadow. I didn’t want to say anything, I actually thought you had been taken. It was a bit early, but then thats when the most simple mistakes are made, but I had a quiet word with a few people and I hear you just aren’t putting the work in.”

Shadow was glowing scarlet. This wasn’t what he wanted, he had made a crucial mistake.

“ I’m sorry Professor, I really am. It’s all just been a bit overwhelming and I lost track of priorities, I’ll try harder.”

The Professor seemed unconvinced.

“ I want to give you a second chance Shadow,’ he removed and started polishing his silver glasses.

“ You’re grades have really suffered, it will take a lot of work to get back up to an acceptable level.”

Shadow was in full panic mode, he needed a second chance.

“ Can I redo the projects?” He gasped. They had a week free for study coming up, he could sacrifice his time then as a lot of his friends were heading home.

“ I will let you hand them in if you manage but, I have to say Shadow, it’s a lot of work, I don’t know if you have time.”

They agreed that the Professor would grade the papers again, on a reduced scale. It wouldn’t get him anything resembling an A level score, but he might scrape by with something respectable. He ran full sprint to the library, setting himself up in the computing department.

The EU Library was odd, but the computing department at Elsewhere University Library was odd in it’s own special way. Each shelf had a locked door, able to be opened only on presentation of a special ID card (made of iron, naturally). Apparently the campus had an ongoing issue with books about technology being vandalised at night. Far at the end of the room, one cabinet was sealed with, apparently, no lock at all. He asked in the first week about that shelf, the Librarian mumbled “Those books aren’t finished yet,” and somehow escaped from sight.

He gathered what he needed for his first project of the year, and got to work. It had been a couple of hours when someone came and sat across from him at the table, a young man, around his age, black hair, smart clothes. A few moments later, Shadow noticed the student was not doing work.

“ Can I help you?” he asked, looking up from his book.

“ No, but I think I can help you,” he replied. “ If you go upstairs to the 12th floor, theres a room. 17c. Time works weirdly in there, its good for concentration or something. “

“ I’m fine here,” Shadow mumbled, mildly irritated at the interruption.

“ Someone is about to come in and clean, it’s gonna get loud.” the stranger added. Shadow took the bait and packed up his stuff.

Shadow was sure there had only been 9 floors to the Library, but there it was, the button for floor 12.  17c was creepy. A single room, with a single desk. Olive green walls and a single pendant lamp with a heavy shade, making a spot of light on the floor and sending the dark corners into wild shapes.

The guy was right. Time went weirdly here, but so did everything else.  The room seemed smaller one minute, then huge, sound seemed echoey and then muffled.  Shadow was sure he had been there for a few hours when he realised it had only been 1. The light wasn’t still, so his concentration was being slightly disturbed by the shapes and figures rising from the shade of the area outside the light. It was getting too much.  Shadow got up and went to find a coffee machine, his study materials scattered over the desk. Including his favourite calculator. The one he used at school. The one with stickers all over it and his name scratched into the back.

The week dragged, Shadow felt like he had been living there for a month when the rest of the class came back from their visits home, but the work was done, and the grade came back good. He wouldn’t make that mistake again, and he cut his partying in half.  

One day, his room mate moved out without a word. Things had been weird between them since Shadow had been around more often, he figured the guy just didn’t like him. Their room was small, two single beds only a foot and a half apart. It was tough luck, most of the other rooms on campus were far better, but maybe the guy just needed more space.

That night, he remembered waking up with his leg out of the bed, his shadow stretching across the room to the sheet of the bed opposite. He must have been dreaming, because he was sure he saw his room mate asleep over there.

The next day, the bed was still unmade, and not slept in. He went about his business, enjoying the new independence, which made it all the more annoying when he came home from class that day and found a boy in his room.

“ Hi, I’m your new room mate. My name is Alex.”

—————–

‘Alex’ was startling to Shadow. He looked so like him it was unreal, though not identical, they could be brothers.

He was paler Shadow, with darker hair, but still blond. Their eyes we’re different colours, and where 'Alex’ was slightly taller, Shadow was slightly more muscular. Their faces were stronger and weaker in the same places, but the features did not match.

“ Wow, we could be twins!” the new boy exclaimed as his brown eyes landed on Shadow in the doorway.

“ I’m a late transfer, I hoped we could be buddies and you could show me around the place?” his eyes were pleading.

“ Yeah, sure.” Shadow replied, the guys chosen name alarmed him at first, but coincidences happen, and he would hate to be here so long after orientation with no friends.

They chatted for a while and realised they had quite a lot in common. By the time they went to bed, Shadow felt like the guy had been here forever. His other roommate had been boring, they had nothing to talk about and the guy was always so moody, Alex was a breath of fresh air.  A few weeks went by and life was starting to become a bit of a routine. The good kind.

Alex was always very busy through the day, arriving around 8-9pm each night, in time to socialise a bit before bed. It suited Shadow fine, he could spend the time between classes and Alex’s return catching up on his work.

The friends he made at the beginning of the year resented Alex a bit, the timing of his arrival had been around the same time Shadow had started taking his studies seriously again, so from their perspective, Alex was bad news.

The first few parties Shadow took him too had been pretty bad for Alex. Mostly ignored and left out, he had been resigned to the sofa while Shadow caught up with people he hadn’t seen in a while. Some crazy girl, who kept talking about glowing eyes in the darkness, sat next to Alex and wouldn’t leave him alone the first time. Shadow thought she was on Acid.

But over a few weeks, the group warmed to the new kid. Alex started to build friendships himself and Shadow felt a little relief. He really enjoyed Alex’s company, but he had started to feel like they were in a couple.

The end of semester projects were handed out in March. Shadows class groaned in unison as they realize the workload expected of them. The next party Shadow would be going to would be when they left for summer. Alex came and went, day in day out. They still hung out a few times a week, but the summer sun had come to Elsewhere and the classes had begun to move their study periods outside, he was getting a little tan and his hair was bleaching in the summer rays, becoming a brighter gold than before.  It suited him and he had been getting a lot of attention from girls and guys.  Alex was a busy man!

No one had warned him how much of his social life would suffer doing computer sciences. The coding and the technical aspects were so unpredictable he was up all night, most nights, trying to get his work done. His team had grown distant, he attributed it to stress, which meant that Shadow had started to work alone more and more often. He was starting to feel like the old Alex, the one he left behind and never wanted to meet again. The one he had worked so hard to get rid of.

Time passed, and projects finished. Shadow had been napping after handing in his full project, he had done most of it himself, when Alex woke him, face so close he could smell his breath.

“ Shadow. It’s done. Come party!” he whispered, before handing him a beer and sliding silently out of the room. He went to his buddies house, the party was raging as always ( he was half sure it never stopped), and people we’re everywhere. He saw his friend Jeff across the crowd, a rush of realisation at just how long it had been hit him as he waved and ran across the room.

But Jeff practically sneered before turning away. It was almost like he couldn’t see him, but what he had seen had really annoyed him. Shadow lost him in the crowd.

He saw Alex coming towards him. “ Hey,” he whispered as he grabbed Shadow’s arm.

He looked into his friends eyes, but saw only annoyance and frustration.

Alex’s mouth opened, it looked subtly different somehow, it had done for a while. Maybe it was the tan.

“ Alex, the others want you to leave. They said they don’t like flakes who think they can come back after disappearing and act like nothing has happened.”

Shadow took a second to realize Alex had used his real name on him.

“ No no, I’m Shadow. You’re Alex…”

“ Alex, I know you must be upset, but you need to leave!” Shouted Alex as he grabbed Shadows arm and escorted him out the front door. “ Now go, find somewhere you belong.” Alex grinned. Just before he slammed the door, his brown eyes shifted to a very familiar green.

Shadow… No, the other guy was right, he was Alex again now, wandered across campus. When he got to the dorm, his ID wouldn’t work, he couldn’t get anyone to pay attention to him and no one would help.

It took two days before he stopped trying to find where he belonged. Even then it was only because of a lack of options. He slumped next to a wall near the crows, the crows could see him, he could tell that much. How did this happen, he wondered? He had noticed his hands growing pale and he could not bear to find a mirror, he knew he wouldn’t like what he saw. His trousers were getting too short for him, he thought he had stopped growing.

A pair of purple leather shoes stopped in his vision. Shining inexplicably in the shade of the crows tables, and leading into a pair of olive green trousers.

“ I’ve been looking for you!” the new voice shouted, a growl to it that scared Alex, but not enough to snap his depression. He glanced up into the eyes of a creature that definitely wasn’t human. Dull grey skin, wrinkled and sagging so much it looked like folded tissue, a snub nose any pig would be jealous of, and a subtle green sheen to his skin that looked like he was coated in petrol. As disgusting as he was, the eyes that locked with Alex’s were vibrant and more beautiful than anything he had ever seen. At first they looked black from corner to corner, but then they flickered… constant flickers of blue and purples, spectrums and nebulas, all shining out of an inky black void.

“ Time has been catching up with my room since you left in that boys bag, I need the shadows to form the circle, you know that little shade.” he growled, “No one escapes from Gossamer,” he took hold of Alex’s collar, the grip was strong and somehow relieved the shade of all mass and weight it had left. Crumpling into something looking like a gauze suit, it was stuffed into a purple briefcase with no ceremony.  Alex smiled, as best he could.  The darkness of the case was home to him.  He could relax, he belonged. 

As Gossamer scurried back to the Library, his hulking frame moving far faster and more sprightly than should be possible, the layers of loose skin on his face split, blue lips curling into a tight twisted line. Time flowed like water around here if it wasn’t regulated correctly, and his circle had been suffering all year for being one member short.

Shadow Alex went on to pass with flying colours but, once graduated, disappeared.  He hasn’t been heard from by any of the alumni or staff since.

x

[captain-zajjy]

Solstice, Chapter 2 - A Final Fantasy XV Story

Pairing: Ignis x Female Original Character

AO3 | Chapter 1

Both Valeria and her mother had received invitations to attend the party at the Citadel to commemorate the signing of the treaty with the Empire. But work didn’t pause for politics, so Valeria found herself getting ready in her office suite at a few minutes past seven, doing the best she could with her hair and makeup in the small, poorly lit bathroom, mildly annoyed that she had missed out on her evening jog.

Her mother was already at the party and sent the family driver back to pick her up. The Citadel was draped in black and gold, no expense spared on decorations and catering, and predictably packed, a veritable catalog of Lucis’s best and brightest (save the Crown Prince, of course). Valeria recognized most of the Lucian guests from similar events in the past, but she was surprised to see Kingsglaive uniforms on all the guards.

But it was a special occasion, after all. And the party was crawling with Niffs. White and red garbed Imperials dotted the crowd, and it was strained smiles and awkward pleasantries all around; just because they were now at peace didn’t mean either side had to like it.

Valeria caught sight of her mother’s dark bobbed hair among the crowd and, after greeting several women with whom she’d gone to school, made her way across the ballroom.

“Ah, my lovely daughter, Valeria,” her mother said smoothly, introducing several people Valeria recognized as potential investors. That explained why her mother was laughing at all their bad jokes. Valeria smiled and played along, but she was relieved when the men moved on to the bar.

Her mother immediately turned off the charm and gave her daughter an appraising once-over. “Why didn’t you wear that new black dress?”

Because I didn’t choose it for myself, Valeria thought. Going on twenty-three years old and her mother still tried to pick out her clothes. It was embarrassing. Aloud, she said, “I just like this one.”

Her mother frowned, as if to say navy blue was somehow too ostentatious, but blessedly let it go.

Instead, she said pointed to the little leather bag attached to Valeria’s wrist containing her phone, ID, lipstick, and some gil if she needed to call a cab to make a quick exit. “Get someone to check that. Your phone makes you so antisocial.”

Valeria spread her hands in exasperation. “Anything else I’m doing wrong?”

“Oh, hush.” Her mother gave her a playful swat on the arm. “You look very nice. Did you see Godric Octavio over there? Why don’t you go say hello? I can’t believe a handsome young man like that is still single.”

That’s because he’s an insufferable shit. Godric Octavio was indeed quite handsome, perhaps even better-looking than the Crown Prince himself. The Octavio family shared a common ancestry with the Caelum dynasty, claiming descent from the eighth son of some ancient and virile king, and the resemblance was still there to some degree. Valeria didn’t care about any of that, but if it would get her mother off her back…

“Fine,” she muttered.

“Don’t slouch, dear.” Her mother always had to have the last word.

Valeria migrated over to where Godric Octavio was attempting to flirt with some poor serving girl.

“Hello, Godric,” she said cordially. The waitress gave her a grateful look and quickly disappeared into the crowd.

Godric hungrily took in Valeria’s appearance with heavily-lidded eyes. He’d clearly taken advantage of the open bar.

“Valeria Soleil,” he slurred, pushing a lock of dark hair out of his eyes. “You’re looking good. Way better than high school,” he added, gaze glued to her chest.

Charming. Valeria ignored the sudden, overwhelming urge to take a bath and forced a smile.

“How kind of you to say.” Much as she wanted to, she couldn’t be outright rude to him - that would inevitably make its way back to her mother and then she’d never hear the end of it. But that didn’t mean she had to be nice.

“I’m surprised to find you all alone over here,” she said with a dark smile. “Don’t tell me you’re losing your touch.” At the Academy, Godric had always, always been surrounded by a gaggle of girls.

Something coherent flashed behind his eyes, a recognition that ‘oh, we’re going to play this game,’ before they glazed back over with drink. Before he could respond, an ear-splitting rumble shook the roof above them.

Valeria jumped, startled, but let out a laugh when she looked through a window and saw a hundred sparkling points of light blanketing the nighttime sky.

“Let’s check out the show,” Godric said, taking her arm. “And make both our mothers happy.”

That made Valeria smirk. She followed her escort out onto the terrace, ignoring the way he kept bumping into her as they walked. Along with the rest of the party-goers, she watched the impressive fireworks display heralding Lucis’s peace with the Nifleheim Empire. And she might have even enjoyed it, if not for Godric trying to slip an arm around her hips.

“You know, you never gave me the time of day back in school. Heh heh...I bet us being here like this now would really piss Scientia off.” When Valeria turned to frown at him, Godric drained the remains of his drink. “Where is old four-eyes anyway? Not here, obviously, since he’s not up your ass.”

That gave her pause. Were they really so obvious that even a blockhead like Godric Octavio had taken notice? Not that they ever did anything other than socialize, anyway. He’s drunk, she reminded herself. And trying to get a rise out of you.

In response to his question, Valeria shrugged, trying to look indifferent. “Out of town, I guess.” No one needed to know that she’d spoken with Ignis on the phone just yesterday.

“I never could stand that smug son of a bitch,” Godric muttered. “Always walking around like he was hot shit, all because he works for the Prince.”

“Well, the feeling was mutual, I assure you.” Valeria turned back to the fireworks, trying to squash the little bead of irritation that cropped up at someone badmouthing Ignis. Were it socially acceptable, Scientia would kick your ass, she thought with a smile.

She wondered if he was back on the road to Altissia now. He’d texted her several times to tell her that the car had broken down, but mostly to lament the Prince’s lackadaisical attitude toward the whole affair.

Poor Iggy. Did all royal chamberlains have to deal with this sort of thing, or had he been saddled with a particularly difficult charge? Valeria had texted him back with the hopeful reminder that, at the very least, he’d be getting help from Lady Lunafreya soon.

Godric wandered off in search of another drink, or maybe another female, as the fireworks continued to pop and crackle overhead. Unsurprisingly, it seemed they’d pulled out all the stops with the display, each wave of light getting brighter and louder than before. The force of the it had even started to shake the furniture on the terrace, plates and glasses rattling against tabletops.

A massive boom actually knocked some of the decorations over, and caused Valeria to sway slightly on her feet. She looked around her then, seeing faltering smiles and hearing nervous laughter. If this was part of the show, maybe the were overdoing it a bit.

A deafening crack sounded, and the floor suddenly fell away from her feet. No, this wasn’t part of the show. This was wrong. Very wrong.

When Valeria next blinked, her face was inches from the floor tiles and screams filled her ringing ears. She pushed herself to her feet, strangely fixated with the tear in her pantyhose and the little bit of blood welling up on her knee. Another blow sent her sprawling into a serving cart, and she found herself mumbling an apology to no one in particular as she picked herself back up.

In front of her, a corner of the terrace had simply vanished. People were covered in plaster, dust, and splintered wood. Some were moving; many were not. In the midst of the rubble she made out the bloody ruin of half of Godric Octavio’s handsome face.

Valeria stared at the scene before her uncomprehending, like there was some disconnect between her eyes and brain. A tug on her arm and her name being shouted in her ear drew her attention away from the horror.

“Valeria, we have to go.” Her mother grabbed her hand.

Valeria blinked at her. “Mom, what…?”

“Now, Valeria.” Valeria allowed herself to be lead along by the hand like a small child, trying to fathom just what was happening. The building continued to rumble and shake. A huge mass of people clogged the entrance to the stairwell, pushing, screaming, shouting.

“Move!” Valeria’s mother was shorter than her daughter, and rail thin, but she shoved people aside with the ease of a man twice her size, pulling Valeria through the crowd and fighting their way down the stairs.

A siren began to blare, not just in the building, but throughout the city. Valeria had never heard it before, but its meaning was clear: Get out. Run.

Her mother stepped over a splayed body on the landing, pulling Valeria along when she balked. Sorry, she wanted to say to the unfortunate person. Maybe they should stop and help, but she was too afraid to do anything but follow where her mother pulled her.

They tumbled out into the city street along with the handful of others who had managed to make it all the way out of the building. The air seemed almost like a solid mass, thick with smoke and dust. Beneath the drone of the emergency siren was the whir of engines overhead, the rat-a-tat of gunfire and boom of explosives.

With one hand clinging to her mother and the other clasped over her mouth in a vain attempt to the filter the choking air and stem her coughing, Valeria ran, trusting her mother to understand what was going on, to lead them to safety. The city of Insomnia was no longer recognizable, like they had been plucked up by an invisible hand and dropped into a warzone, the faraway kind she read about in the newspapers, not where she lived. Not the impenetrable Crown City.

As they rounded the corner of a narrow alley, her mother skidded to a halt, and Valeria collided with her back. In front of them eerie red lights hovered in the gloom, and there was a clattering of metal on metal as mechanical men emerged from the fog with rifles drawn…

Gunfire rang out and Valeria felt her body being shoved aside, searing pain ripping through her left shoulder. Her mother twisted and spun, her body hanging in the air for what seemed like an impossibly long time before crumpling bonelessly to the ground.

Valeria crawled over to her on her knees. Her mother’s dark eyes were rolled to the back of her head, the grey dust covering her body punctuated by at least a dozen bloody, red holes.

“Mom!” Valeria screamed, shaking her. “Mama! Mama!”

Run. It was her mother’s voice, not coming from the body Valeria clutched, but firm and commanding, directly in her ear. Run.

Valeria looked up and saw the magitek soldiers reloading their rifles. Run.

She dropped her mother’s body and took off, back down the alley. She ran and ran, tears stinging her eyes, smoke filling her lungs, not stopping for anyone or anything in the streets. She might have even been running in circles for all she knew, but eventually found herself on a broken causeway where the fog wasn’t as thick, where far off in the distance she could see what remained of the Wall.

Eventually her legs gave out and she fell to her knees, left arm hanging limp and numb. Her entire left side was covered in blood. Oh, she thought, feeling strangely detached. They shot me.

When the adrenaline started to wear off, she began to shake, her left side seized up in pain, and she collapsed on the pavement. Valeria couldn’t say how long she laid there, trying to find the moon and stars through the haze. By the time they came for her, her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth and nothing hurt anymore.

She found herself being scooped up by metal arms clad in white and red, muffled voices saying something about the ‘medicus.’ She wanted to fight back, kick and scream at them for killing her mother, but she couldn’t move.

They’re going to kill me too, she thought, as she was dumped into the back of some sort of vehicle. Was there even anyone left who would care? The company might erect some kind of memorial in her honor, and people would say she was taken too young, say she had so much potential, but they wouldn’t actually grieve her loss. Her father and Ignis might, but they both had their own lives, complete without her in them. That thought somehow made her sadder than the idea of her impending demise.

And with that sense of loneliness, the darkness enveloped her, smooth and cold and comforting.

Despite their numerous misadventures, Ignis had to admit he was enjoying his time on the road. It was good to stretch his legs, to actually wander the wilds outside of the city instead of reading about them in books, to finally put all that combat training with the Marshal to good use.

Noctis remained ambivalent as ever, but Prompto and Gladiolus seemed to genuinely enjoy and appreciate his cooking at camp and compliment his skills on the battlefield. Ignis didn’t do these things for praise, of course - it was all part of his job - but it nonetheless felt good to be acknowledged by his friends.

And so he woke (before the others, of course) with a particular sense of fullness, not pertaining to food or hunger, but a contentment of the heart and soul. His intention was to watch the sunrise over Galdin Quay with a good cup of Ebony in hand before they embarked on the ferry for Altissia and Noctis’s wedding. He had a suspicion this might be the last chance he had to relax for a while.

As it was, his hunch proved correct, but for reasons he never could have predicted.

Strangely, he found the coffee counter empty - it may have been early, but Galdin Quay was a luxury resort and staff worked around the clock. After several minutes and several impatient knocks on the counter, a young barista shambled over, her eyes red as if she’d been crying. Ignis supposed she must have been dumped by her boyfriend or some such and decided not to complain, but before he could open his mouth she spoke.

“I’m sorry, uh...for the wait. It’s just-” Ignis thought she might start weeping again, but the girl managed to keep it together. “My brother was in Insomnia. He was so excited about his new job in the city...I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You just want your coffee, don’t you, sir?”

Ignis felt something churning in the pit of his stomach, the instinctive sense that something had gone horribly, terribly wrong.

“Has...something happened in Insomnia?”

The way the color drained from her face indicated he was right to fear asking the question.

“You don’t know?” she whispered. “Six, you’re not...are you from there?”

Ignis nodded, his bad feeling evolving into full-blown panic, but he managed to keep it inside. “What’s happened?” he demanded. The girl pointed a shaking finger at the newsstand next to the counter that had somehow managed to escape his notice during his quest for coffee. Ignis picked up the morning’s paper.

Insomnia Falls. He blinked, adjusted his glasses, but the words remained. Beneath the headline was a photo of, presumably, a street in the city filled with rubble and covered with ash. The unmistakable red lights of Imperial craft were just visible through a thick shroud of smoke.

He collapsed onto the nearest stool, his mind racing to comprehend what was in front of him. An Imperial invasion...the Treaty signing...a trap...King Regis dead. Ignis looked back up at the barista and she nodded without a sound. Yes, it’s real. It’s all real.

“Keep it,” she said, gesturing at the newspaper. “And this is also on the house.” The steaming mug of coffee she placed before him had lost all its appeal, what with the massive lump forming in his throat.

His first instinct was to go and immediately wake the others, to let them know the horrible news, but he stopped himself from getting up. Let them - especially the Prince - get a few more hours of blissfully ignorant rest before the course of their lives was forever altered.

Instead, he got out his phone and dialed his uncle, then Valeria, then half a dozen other people he knew had been in the city last night. Each number went directly to voicemail. Of course, he thought. Whether directly or through collateral damage, the Empire would have destroyed most of the cell phone towers serving the city.

That realization didn’t exactly ease his concerns, but for now, he had to believe they still lived. The Prince remained his priority, perhaps more than ever, for if they’d killed the King, the Imperials surely would not be content to just let his heir go on living. At least for Noctis, he could still do something, could still protect and comfort him.

Val, he thought, be safe. Be strong. All he could do for her now was hope.

[prettyskieschubbythighs]

Can i borrow your notes?

Jimin Fan Fic 

It was late in the evening when I got a text from my classmate Jimin. He was an odd one id have to say but maybe it was because we had just started talking to each other. I’m sure he’ll open up soon but I’ll admit he is gorgeous and I may have thought of him pressing me against the wall a few times during class and don’t even get me started with his music.

Jimin: Hey Y/N, sorry to disturb you but as you noticed was away today so I would like to know if you happen to have taken down notes in the Dance             Appreciation and History lecture this morning? You wouldn’t mind if I borrowed them would you?

I giggled to myself and responded;

YOU: Hi Jimin, you totally disrupted my Friday afternoon Disney move marathon! Ugh shame on you, though I did happen to take notes in todays’ lecture. Will cost you though J

Jimin: HAHA. Oh gosh I am soo sorry. Money?

You: I’ve got enough of that…Jks but no

Jimin: hmmmm…

Jimin: You free tonight?

You: depends ;)

Jimin: I’ll take that as a yes then. Meet me in front of campus at 6. See you soon :)

I didn’t notice myself drifting out of reality until my apartment door slammed shut. My roommate Anastasia came sulking through the lounge room and flopped down on the couch next to me, obvious that she had had a bad day.

“Yo” you chuckle pushing away your thoughts of Jimin and the night ahead.

“Hey…” She sighs. When I ask what’s wrong with her she explains that she and her boyfriend had been arguing about how V kept getting messages from other girls.

“Boys will be boys and I’m sure that those girls meant nothing to him. You are the best girlfriend he could ever have and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Ok?” I winked at her followed on to tell her about your plans tonight.

“Jimin?! As in THE Park Jimin from uni?” She stuttered with a big ‘O’ forming on her dark purple puckered up lips.

“Yes. The only Jimin is our class, idiot.” I chuckled.

“So you’re meaning to tell me that while my boyfriend is being a total dick you’re going out with the hot, smart already famous performer in our class. You lucky bitch!” We both cracked up laughing purely for different reasons.

“It is a sophisticated student meet up just to exchange notes NOT a date, ok?” I sighed but she was quick to respond.

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you in class. His eyes trailing up and down ALL the way down your body when you stand up to do speeches in class. Very ‘sophisticated’.”

Shocked I didn’t know how to respond maturely to that. “Bullshit. He does not. You’re just making shit up now”. Your voice was getting louder as you felt the heat rise up to your cheeks.

“He sure does, there’s no point in avoiding it. Oh and don’t even get me started with how he stares at you in night clubs. Focused on your hips as they sway with the beat and that slim fitted black dress you always wear. Something was definitely happening to him down there” She so normally exclaimed.

To avoid further embarrassment I ended the conversation really quickly. “Pshh. Nah. Well, I hear the shower calling my name! See ya!” I ran to my bedroom and locked my door as Anastasia was shouting things from the other side of it. Flushed and embarrassed, I sat on the other side of the door and I could feel pulses rushing through my lower body. None of that could be true. There was no way Jimin could like me over the cuter girls in the class anyway, but the thought of Jimin being even remotely turned on from me is making my head feel light and dizzy.

After my shower, I got dressed in my favourite black lace lingerie (just in case), my short black midriff and skinny jeans. I paired my outfit with some gold hoop earrings and my black platform boots. I did a black smokey eye with gold pigment on the lid to harmonise with my jewellery and draw attention to my eyes.  After looking at myself in the mirror once more I bid my farewells to Anastasia before driving happily to my University campus.

After driving through the city for 10 minutes or so I cruise through the student carpark and saw Jimin waiting for me with a light smile plastered on his face not so far away. While walking towards him I slowed down at the sight of him leaning against his car eyes closed daydreaming about things out of my knowledge. He was suited up in a pair of black ripped jeans and a white linen shirt. I’ve never really taken too much notice about his facial features. I continue walking closer and his face hardens at the sight of me, showing need and restraint. His jaw tenses revealing his slightly sculpted cheekbones. Large smokey eyes swallowed you whole and I could feel my knees giving in under just his hard looks. I stopped walking closer noticing the closing gap between us.

Stepping back with a slight pink blush to my cheeks I greeted him. “Good evening Mr Park”

“Well hello daydreamer. Wanna get any closer, you can see me better from this angle” He demonstrated with his face coming close to yours and head tilted slightly down to look directly at your eyes. He smirked at your reaction and ran a hand through his newly dyed, light pink hair. “Gosh aren’t I just irresistible?” He cracked up laughing like a fool.

I punched him in the arm and laughed at him as if saying ‘No you aren’t’ but I had gotten really close to him previously so, to be honest, he was right, I should’ve stopped myself. He then went on to explain that we were going to Japanese for dinner. He also asked if I should give him the notes now or after dinner.

With my cheeks flushing a brighter shade of red he said “So I’m guessing you came here and forgot the notes at home? Well someone was so excited to see me but forgot the real substance as to why they were actually asked to come” He smirked and at that moment I knew I was playing with the devil himself.

I jumped back and responded “Umm no way man! I was just- umm-“

He cut me off and chuckled “Sure Y/N, let’s get going” He ushered me towards his black sports car and shut the door for me like a polite gentleman. What just are you Jimin? The quiet boy in class, the cocky boy that plays with my feelings or the gentleman you are now?

In the passenger seat, I changed the radio station until they played one of Jimin’s hit singles ‘Lie’. I couldn’t help but squirm in my seat restraining myself from dancing and my head swung back when I sang along to the chorus with Jimin’s recording.

Jimin let out a deep groan in the driver seat next to me “If you keep singing like that how am I supposed to focus on the road?” He looked at me through his mirror and I bit my lip and looked down. That noise was enough to send electricity throughout my whole body, so sexy. “Sorry, I just love your song so much that I’m always dancing to it at home” I giggled and he sighed saying ‘thankyou’.

“I worked really hard on it. The song means a lot to me and so does your feedback, I’m glad you like it” The light smile on his face sent flutters to my chest. What was happening to me?

We laughed and told stories throughout the night at the high-class Japanese restaurant that I clearly wasn’t dressed appropriate for, standing out like a clown.

“You know in class, how you like, sit in front of me?” He said while taking sips from his cocktail. It had been our second round of drinks and it had taken its toll on my brain and I was feeling more relaxed than usual.

“Yes? What about it?” I answered following with a question back at him curiously.

Openly, he said, “Well idk if you do it on purpose but- wait what was I saying?” His hands came to his temple thinking intensively “Oh yeah. Well, one day you had this short top on like the one you’re wearing now but you complemented it with this long skirt that hung low on your waist and like- did you know you have like these 2 cute dimples on your lower back?”

I stared straight at me for a couple of seconds before cracking up laughing. Taking another sip from my glass Rosé I said “Of course I knew that I have dimples on my back, you idiot. And besides, why were you looking that far down anyway?” I pressed to see if Anastasia’s theory was true.

Honestly, he replied, “Umm, cuz’ you’re hot.” He leant further into his chair, one arm around the chair and the other holding his cocktail glass to his plump, inviting lips. I turned my head to the side to prevent myself from giggling like a teenager who has been kissed for the first time; besides he was clearly tipsy did he mean it? “Do you wanna head back now? You can drive behind me to my house and well go through my notes cus’ it’s like still only 8”

“Yeah. Good idea. Well, actually, bad idea since we're both over the drinking limit. Can’t drive so well catch the train instead” I agreed with him and he insisted on playing and we both walked to the station together leaving the cars in a safe car park.

The train trip wasn’t long so we got to my station in no time. As we were walking up the hill towards my house, my feet started to flop around sure to the excruciation pain my heels were giving me. Jimin noticed my trouble and snaked his arm around my waist and brought my arm around his muscly shoulders. I looked up at his caring smile and snuggled my face close to his neck whispering ‘thankyou’. The comfort of being in Jimin’s arms is like I have known him forever; I could be in this position all day.

At home, Jimin and I were watching a movie instead of studying since we were both tipsy and couldn’t concentrate. When we first got home we tried to look through the notes but Jimin kept complain of boredom so we just had to fix that didn’t we.

“Truth” I blurt out from the mattress on my bed.

“Are you into me at all?” His tone was stern but his face remained calm. We were playing truth or dare for the last few minutes because the movie had stopped and we were both bored.

“Hmmm. Do I have to answer that?” I sat my head on my hands propped up on my elbows staring at him with a smile.

“Yes” Stubborn shit.

“Well then yes.” My face fell down onto the mattress to cover my embarrassment.

He chuckled and stood up to come lie next to me. “Fine then, your turn. Truth”

“Hmm...” As you were thinking you shifted yourself on the mattress to face Jimin, you stared at each other with little space in between. “If I asked right now, would you kiss me?” I closed my eyes, backed up a little bit to give him space to think and my teeth tugged on my bottom lip. I was so turned on but there was no way I was going to show it. A little more teasing is my number 1 priority at the moment.

“You wouldn’t even need to ask. I could already tell you wanted me to from when you first saw me tonight. Dressed revealingly and constantly biting your bottom lip, oh gosh don’t get me started with your singing in the car. I’ve been holding myself back all night and that is a long time” He pulls me back with one arm so I can face him again looking straight at him.

“You figured it out huh. Smart kids these days huh?” You smirked and got up from the bed, Jimin’s hand trailing down your hips as you left. “I need to put my pj's on” I took this opportunity as an advantage by pulling my shirt over my head revealing my black lace bra. Keeping my pants on, I slipped my silk night dress on taking my jeans off only after I’m fully covered. I continue folding my clothes and sing ‘House of Cards’ by BTS before turning around to face Jimin. His face straight and eyes seeing right through your white silk dress.

“Fuck” he groaned

You walked closer towards him and asked if he wanted to stay over tonight.

“Yes, god damn” he moved across the bed to make room for you. You slipped in one leg slowly at a time and slid down flat. Your hand moved to turn the lamp off and you tumbled towards Jimin’s side sliding one of your legs over his and whispered.

“Goodnight Park Jimin” smiling, your eyes started to close and you rubbed your silk on his bare leg a bit before sleeping.

“Goodnight” Jimin spoke with a monotone voice obvious to be sexually frustrated. Oh well, he wasn’t going to get help with that yet. Not today.

[sage-nebula]

PKMN - And Hide Behind a Mask of Lies

Notes: A long, long while ago someone sent me an ask about what the anime would have been like if Sycamore and Lysandre were friends in the anime as they were in the games. Back then, I gave the response that things would be unquestioningly worse because it would mean that, despite their friendship, Lysandre still used and abused Sycamore’s son and then straight up lied to him about it (because lying by omission is still lying). I stand by that, but when I was walking Morgan tonight I got an idea in my head for a potential little scene from that AU, so . . . I decided to write it out.

This takes place pre-canon, when Alan is still fourteen, but nearer to fifteen than thirteen (so like, maybe four months shy of his fifteenth birthday). All other details you need are contained in this fic that, honestly, was supposed to be a drabble.

- - -

Café Introversion was not Lysandre’s favorite café. In all honesty, its coffee was far below his standards.

To be truthful, Lysandre’s standards for coffee were higher than most. To be even more truthful, Lysandre’s standards for everything, period were higher than most. He supposed to most ordinary people he would appear high-strung and demanding, and he supposed, too, that such a perception was fair. Those who held visions for better worlds---and those who actually managed to bring those visions to fruition---often were high-strung and demanding. There was nothing wrong with it, in his view. If he didn’t demand things be done a certain way, they would never be done at all. If he didn’t have standards, the world would continue to rot.

But his plans for the future were a separate, grander matter than his taste in coffee. His taste in coffee being what it was, he couldn’t think of a single café in all of Lumiose City that actually met his standards. Perhaps, when his new world was born, he would have a new café built that did meet his standards. Perhaps it would be the very first building constructed in Neo Lumiose. That was a nice thought, but it was one for the future. For now he was in Café Introversion, because while it was not his favorite café and did not meet his standards, it was still passable, and it lived up to its name by usually having smaller crowds of customers inside, making it a better place for personal conversations than more popular cafés, such as Café Soleil. So although Café Introversion was not his favorite, that was where he was, seated across from Professor Augustine Sycamore as the two of them enjoyed an after-dinner coffee conversation.

“The cross-media functionality of the Holo Caster really is remarkable,” Augustine said. He had his elbows on the table, his chin on his linked fingers. Bad table manners, really, but Lysandre supposed others in the world had committed worse sins. “Would you really be able to broadcast a message across all television networks from your Holo Caster?”

“I would, yes,” Lysandre said, and he couldn’t resist a little smirk at the look of wonder in Augustine’s eyes. “Though it wouldn’t broadcast directly from my personal Holo Caster. The Holo Caster at Fleur-De-Lis Laboratories would be making the actual broadcast, should the time come.” Which it would, but not for a while yet.

“Incredible,” Augustine said, and he laughed lightly. “I imagine that will make advertisements for your future products much easier. You won’t need to pay television stations any money for commercial spots.”

Lysandre smiled thinly. “Yes, I suppose I won’t.”

“All righty, here we are!” Lysandre looked up as the barista who had taken their order earlier stepped up to their table, a mug of coffee---one for Augustine, and one for Lysandre himself---in each hand, and a small plate balanced on her arm. She set the mugs down first, and then lightly plucked the plate from her arm before she set it down on the table between them. “And because you two came in during our after-dinner happy hour, you get a couple biscotti, on the house!”

“Thank you, it’s appreciated,” Lysandre said.

The barista beamed at him before she skipped back around the counter (and really, he had to commend her for being so peppy given her place of employment). Lysandre looked back at Augustine, only to find that Augustine was looking at the plate of biscotti instead, a strange, wistful sort of smile on his face.

“Is something the matter?” Lysandre asked.

“What? Oh, no.” Augustine looked up and flashed Lysandre an attempt at a brighter smile. “I was just . . . thinking.”

“About?” Lysandre asked. Augustine didn’t answer immediately; his eyes fell back to the biscotti, that same look crossing his face again, and Lysandre said dryly, “For someone who has nothing troubling him, you do seem to be having difficulty keeping up with the conversation.”

Augustine started, as if he really had found himself lost in thought once again before Lysandre spoke up, but then he huffed a small, humorless laugh.

“It’s really nothing,” he said. “I was just . . . thinking about Alan.”

“. . . Oh.”

It had been a year and a half since Lysandre had recruited Alan into his service. Lysandre had known of Alan since the boy was a child; due to his friendship with Augustine, it was impossible for him to have not heard stories about the boy that Augustine had brought on as his “assistant,” but was actually raising as his own. Lysandre had never formally met Alan before the boy had set off on his travels, and had it not been for that afternoon in Ambrette Town when he had come upon the boy purely by chance, Lysandre wasn’t sure they ever would have met. As it stood, that fateful encounter in Ambrette Town had been enough to spark his interest, and after enough thought and study Lysandre concluded that Alan would be perfect for his purposes. And so far, he hadn’t once come to regret his decision. Although there had been a couple of instances where Alan had to be reminded of his place, for the most part he was a dedicated, efficient agent. He took directives without complaint and was highly dependable when it came to seeing them through, regardless of the risks involved. He had even learned to control his fidgeting habit, which was nice. Really, Lysandre couldn’t have asked for a better special operative, particularly given that this one had been educated by Augustine Sycamore himself. That, plus Alan’s ready willingness to do anything so long as it meant protecting Augustine, made him perfectly crafted to suit Lysandre’s needs.

Not that Augustine could be allowed to know any of that, of course.

“We used to come here semi-regularly. Alan preferred it, since it was always less crowded than the others,” Augustine said. He was looking at the biscotti again, another wistful smile on his face, though he had picked up the spoon next to his mug to slowly stir his coffee. “He always---well, not always, but he would often get biscotti with his coffee so he could dunk it in and eat it that way. Even if we only came here for coffee, he often couldn’t resist getting a side order of biscotti to go with it.” Augustine laughed a little under his breath, and shook his head. “So having the barista bring a plate over reminded me of him, that’s all. I’m sorry for getting lost in thought like that, and for getting sentimental. It isn’t exactly the most cheerful direction to steer the conversation in, I know.”

“It isn’t a problem,” Lysandre said. He took a sip of his coffee as Augustine did the same, and after a moment he casually asked, “I take it you still haven’t heard from him, then?” Lysandre couldn’t imagine Alan being reckless enough with Augustine’s safety to break his promise and contact him anyway, but it never hurt to make sure.

All traces of a smile, forced or otherwise, fell from Augustine’s face. He set his mug back down on the table, and Lysandre saw his fingers squeeze the ceramic as he looked into the dark liquid in the cup.

“No. Not since the last time he called a . . . a year and a half ago now.” Augustine was quiet for a moment, yet then forced a tight smile as he looked up again. “But I’m sure he’s fine. He’s no doubt busy. He’s young; trainers and teenagers both can get easily swept up in whatever it is they’re doing, doubly so if they’re a teenage trainer. I’m sure he’s all right, even if---even though he hasn’t had a chance to call. He’s strong, and smart. He knows how to take care of himself. He’s distracted, and busy, but . . . I’m sure he’s all right.”

Lysandre smiled. He couldn’t help but feel a little amused at the way Augustine rambled on. “Yes, I’m sure he---”

Lysandre’s Holo Caster, strapped to his wrist as it always was, rang out with a sudden chime. He glanced at the screen as the caller ID flashed, and his heart stuttered for only a moment when he saw the name on the display. Whether it was a coincidence or fate playing a joke on him, he wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t help but think that the universe had a funny sense of timing, either way.

Across the table, Augustine leaned forward in interest, his eyes darting to Lysandre’s Holo Caster for a moment before he asked, “Is that an incoming call?”

“Yes,” Lysandre said, and he moved his wrist off the table as he stood up. “I should take this. Excuse me.”

“Of course, take your time,” Augustine said, and he smiled a little. “I’ll be here.”

The café was too small, and too empty, for Lysandre to be able to take the call inside without Augustine overhearing. Instead, he slipped through the back entrance to step out into the alleyway between the café and the building next door, and once he was safely in the shade of the two buildings, he accepted the call and said, “Lysandre speaking.”

The hologram screen flickered to life above his wrist, and though the call window was small, it was just big enough to properly show Alan’s face, as well as the snowy backdrop behind him. He was near Snowbelle City, then. Good. That was where he was supposed to be.

“Director,” Alan said, and Lysandre smirked a little as Alan stood up a bit straighter, fixing his posture from what it had been when Lysandre first accepted the call. “I’ve retrieved the Mega Stone at the site you indicated.”

“Good work,” Lysandre said, “but I was expecting your report this morning at the latest. What happened?”

Alan’s eyes widened before he quickly looked away, fumbling through an excuse he clearly hadn’t bothered preparing before the call. “I---I’m sorry. I was---it took me a bit of time to make it to the Mega Stone site.”

“Clearly,” Lysandre said. “Why?”

“I was---” Alan broke off mid-sentence as his voice cracked over a small cough, and he swallowed hard before he said, “I stopped overnight in Snowbelle City, and . . . that held me up. I’m sorry.” Another coughing fit, stronger than before, broke the end of Alan’s words, and this time a large orange snout dipped into view of the Holo Caster and bumped the back of Alan’s head, crooning. As if on autopilot, Alan reached back to stroke his charizard, patting it comfortingly as he lightly nudged it back out of view.

Lysandre’s eyes narrowed. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Alan said quickly, and as his charizard nudged him again, making a more insistent sound this time, Alan softly shushed it before he looked back at the Holo Caster once more. “Everything is fine. Should I take the Mega Stone back to Fleur-De-Lis Laboratories?”

Lysandre had thought, initially, that the Holo Caster was producing unwanted audio feedback due to the fact that both he and Alan were standing outside. But now that he paid closer attention, he could see that Alan’s cheeks were a little too flushed even allowing for the cold, that his eyes were a bit brighter than usual. His voice was raspy, something his coughing wasn’t helping, and he sniffed every few seconds. He was ill. No doubt that was why his charizard was being a nuisance; Alan had a habit of treating it as an equal rather than a pokémon under his command, and as such it had a tendency to do whatever it wanted off the battlefield, perhaps doubly so if it sensed any sort of weakness in Alan.

But whether or not Alan had a little cold, and whether or not his charizard knew how to behave, he was clearly well enough to function, and that was good enough for Lysandre. The charizard could be sorted out with a reminder in obedience later; for now, Alan had a job to do, and Lysandre had coffee cooling on a table inside the café.

“No,” Lysandre said. “I have another task for you in the area. Standby for now. I’ll contact you with the coordinates later this evening.”

Alan nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Satisfied with that answer (and with the fact that Alan’s charizard hadn’t seen fit to interrupt again), Lysandre ended the call. He could have given Alan the coordinates right then; he could access the data from his Holo Caster and forward it on to Alan’s in under five seconds. But Alan had delayed his report by staying overnight in Snowbelle City, and had---regardless of whether or not he had intended to---chosen to deliver his report at the worst possible moment. That being the case, Lysandre felt it only fitting to make him wait a couple extra hours for the coordinates of the next Mega Stone.

Augustine was still waiting at the table when Lysandre re-entered the café, just as he had said he would be, and he had apparently seen fit to eat one of the biscotti while Lysandre was talking to Alan. It was rude to eat while someone was away from the table, but then, others had committed worse sins.

“I apologize for the delay,” Lysandre said as he took his seat.

“I don’t mind,” Augustine said, and he smiled a little. “Was it an important call?”

Their eyes met. Augustine was looking at him with genuine curiosity, seemingly more relaxed and a little more upbeat than he had been just before Lysandre’s Holo Caster had chimed. Lysandre considered Augustine for just a moment before he returned the smile.

“Not particularly,” he said.

[phooll123]

It's almost a bargain compared to the iPhone X

Hollis Johnson/Business Insider The Galaxy S9 is a bit like the weather report in a sunny state or country: another boring, beautiful day. It's yet another fantastic smartphone from Samsung, but it's not especially exciting. The new features Samsung announced at Mobile World Congress in Barcelona felt like the mundane "waterskiing squirrel" story of a news station that has no news to report. AR Emoji? Waterskiing squirrel. Variable-aperture camera? Double-backflip waterskiing squirrel. Still, Samsung made some improvements where it counts, and the S9 is a better phone than its predecessor, the Galaxy S8. Samsung keeps reminding us that it listens to its customers, and that shows in the Galaxy S9. But Samsung is also stubborn with certain things like the Bixby button, which is still, unfortunately, present on the Galaxy S9. Check out the new Galaxy S9 from Samsung:

You've seen the design before, but it's still a beautiful phone.

Hollis Johnson/Business InsiderThe Galaxy S9 shares most of its design with last year's Galaxy S8, and that's a great thing. The Galaxy S9 is just as pretty, if not prettier. You get the sleek, curved-glass edges on the front and back, while the phone feels solid to hold and use. Samsung also narrowed the bezels on the top and bottom of the display ever so slightly compared with the Galaxy S8, and the Galaxy S9 looks even better for it when the screen is on. Despite the bezels, the Galaxy S9 looks every bit as sleek and modern as the bezel-less iPhone X. It's one of the best-looking smartphones you can buy.

The S9 is also the most feature-packed smartphone you can buy, and it is likely to have what you're looking for.

Hollis Johnson/Business InsiderIf there's something you want that the Galaxy S9 doesn't have, I'd love to hear it. It's just about the most feature-packed smartphone you can buy at the moment. It comes with: • Wireless charging • Fast charging (no separate accessories required — it comes included with the phone) • Facial recognition • Iris recognition • A fingerprint scanner • A headphone jack • A heart-rate monitor • Water resistance That's a longer list of hardware than most other smartphones on the market these days.

The Galaxy S9's facial and iris recognition are better than Face ID on the iPhone X.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that the Galaxy S9's facial and iris recognition offered a much better experience than the iPhone X's Face ID. In the week I used the Galaxy S9, I never had to use my PIN to unlock the phone. Meanwhile, I consistently had to use it to unlock the iPhone X when Face ID didn't work, and it failed far too often for my liking. Most of the time, I used Samsung's Intelligent Scan feature, which combines facial and iris recognition to unlock the phone. It works surprisingly well — and quickly. And when that didn't work — which was rare — I simply used the fingerprint sensor on the back, which is also accurate and fast.

Samsung fixed the fingerprint-sensor placement.

The Galaxy S9 and the Galaxy S8. The fingerprint scanner is below the camera on the S9 and to the right of it on the S8.One of the major complaints with the Galaxy S8 was the poor placement of the fingerprint sensor: right next to the camera. It was hard to reach and hard to tell apart from the camera, which made unlocking the Galaxy S8 a frustrating experience if you opted for fingerprint unlocking. But Samsung fixed that with the Galaxy S9. The fingerprint scanner under the camera is much easier to reach, and I can find it far more easily than I could the sensor on the Galaxy S8. The Galaxy S9's fingerprint sensor is fast, but not as fast as the Pixel 2's. Still, it's good enough that I wasn't clamoring for the Pixel 2 XL I've been using.

As expected, the camera on the Galaxy S9 is very good.

Antonio Villas-Boas/Business InsiderPhotos I've taken with the Galaxy S9 so far have looked fantastic, but I'll need to compare it with other top smartphone cameras, like the Pixel 2 and the iPhone X.

The Galaxy S9's camera performance in low light is absurdly good.

For darker situations, the Galaxy S9's aperture can switch to an incredibly wide f/1.5 (the lower the number, the wider the aperture, meaning more light can get in). And the benefits of having such a wide aperture in low-light situations are pretty clear in the photos above. The Galaxy S9 can capture a much clearer, sharper, and brighter photo in a dark scene than the Pixel 2 XL and its f/1.8 aperture can.

There isn't much of a difference between the Galaxy S9's two camera-aperture modes, but that doesn't matter.

Samsung says it added the narrower f/2.4 aperture to the Galaxy S9 for well-lit situations that could be too bright for the ultrawide f/1.5 aperture. When an aperture is too wide and lets too much light into the camera's sensor, it can lead to overly bright photos with spots void of detail. But I found that the opposite happened. The wide-aperture photo below is darker than the narrow-aperture one. Plus, the narrow photo has more overly bright spots than the wide one — something you can see in the snow left of center. If I were to buy the Galaxy S9, I'd use the camera's pro mode and set it to the wider aperture. It seems to handle ultrabright spots, like that snow, better than the narrower one. At the end of the day, you're not paying a premium for the extra aperture mode, so it's not a big deal that the Galaxy S9 has this feature. You can keep the camera in auto and let it do what it thinks is best, and you'll be fine.

Only the Galaxy S9 Plus has a dual-lens camera, but you're just missing out on better zoom.

The smaller Galaxy S9 comes with a single-lens camera. The Galaxy S9 Plus has a dual-lens system. The S9 Plus' secondary lens is a 2x optical zoom lens that lets you zoom into objects without sacrificing picture quality. Doing that with digital zoom, as you would with the S9, usually leads to loss of detail and clarity.

It opens and runs apps as quickly as you'd expect on any top-tier Android smartphone.

The experience of opening and using apps on the Galaxy S9 is pretty much the same as it has been for every new top-end phone you buy: It's fast.

Battery life on the Galaxy S9 doesn't amaze, but it's in line with other top smartphones.

Hollis Johnson/Business InsiderThe Galaxy S9 has a 3,000-mAh battery (that I haven't tested), and the S9 Plus has a 3,500-mAh one. Based on my brief experience with the phone, it has average battery life compared with other top-tier smartphones. But there's no telling how well the battery will hold up over time yet, as I've had the phone for only a week.

And now for the bad stuff, like Bixby ...

Antonio Villas-Boas/Business InsiderSamsung's homegrown smart voice assistant, Bixby, is young and sure to get better over time. But if you've been using Google Assistant, there is no good reason to switch to Bixby. If you want to start using a smart assistant, Google Assistant is also your best bet. It simply works and does so much more than Bixby, and you don't have to wait for it to get better. The good part is that you can ignore Bixby and set up Google Assistant, which comes with the Galaxy S9 in the Google app.

... and the dedicated Bixby button.

Hollis Johnson/Business InsiderA button under the volume switch pulls up Bixby Home, the visual part of Bixby, and I wish it weren't there. It would be better if Bixby Home were useful, but that's not the case. I've linked Bixby Home with my Facebook, Twitter, and Google accounts, but it struggles to show me content relevant to my interests. Otherwise, it shows you weather information, your agenda for the day, frequently used apps, and news from Flipboard. That stuff can be useful, but Google Now shows me content I'm interested in and does those things too. The button shouldn't even exist. Even if it were useful, pressing it by mistake happened so often during my week with the Galaxy S9 and interrupted what I was doing so often that I actively resent it. It's an obstacle I tried to avoid while handling the phone on a daily basis. I wouldn't even change the button to open Google Now if I could. Funny enough, I used my voice to tell Bixby to turn off the Bixby button. Now I have a nonfunctional button on the side of the phone.

AR Emoji is hardly worth a mention.

I'm meant to be smiling here ... but I feel bad for the pain my AR Emoji is feeling right now.I've already spent too much time talking about AR Emoji. It's not a selling point for this phone. I don't use these kinds of features at all — but even if I did, I wouldn't use AR Emoji. It makes me look angry or sad no matter how much I'm smiling. My AR Emoji looks as if he's been kidnapped and is screaming for help. Thankfully, I can completely ignore this feature, and so can you.

As soon as Google releases a new version of Android, I'll feel as if the Galaxy S9 is outdated. But that's not the case for everyone.

Hollis Johnson/Business InsiderSamsung and other smartphone makers are painfully slow at updating their phones with the latest version of Android. In fact, the Galaxy S9 ships with Android 8.0, whereas the Google Pixel 2 XL I've been using is running on Android 8.1. This doesn't bother a lot of people, but it bothers me. There's always a nagging feeling inside of me when I can't update a phone to the latest version of the operating system its running on. To be clear, this is a purely subjective gripe. Samsung's slow Android updates don't usually affect its phones' performance, so if you don't really care about getting the latest version of Android, carry on. In Samsung's favor, Galaxy phones actually come with their own features that Google hasn't even adopted yet. And several of those features that appear on Samsung phones first even make their way to Google's pure version of Android eventually. Samsung also frequently issues its own security updates and supports older phones pretty decently. The Galaxy S6 from 2015 is still getting security updates from Samsung. Still, I just like to have the latest version of a device's operating system, especially when the operating system is made by one of the biggest and most prolific software companies in the world: Google. And I never really miss the features from Samsung phones when I start using a Google phone with fewer features. I'll go back to using the Pixel 2 XL after I'm done with the Galaxy S9 and I won't miss the facial/iris recognition or the wireless charging, for example. With that said, I will miss the headphone jack on the Galaxy S9, which is unfortunately absent in Google's Pixel 2 phones. 

Should you buy this phone?

Hollis Johnson/Business InsiderOverall, the Galaxy S9 feels like the phone Samsung really meant to build when it made the Galaxy S8, and the S8 was already one of the best Android smartphone you could buy. The Galaxy S9 mostly offers improvements in areas where the Galaxy S8 let us down, except for that dreadful Bixby button. Despite the improvements, Galaxy S8 owners don't have much of a need to upgrade to the Galaxy S9. You won't be missing out on much unless you really want the zoom lens of the Galaxy S9+, or if unlocking the Galaxy S8 with its inferior fingerprint sensor, facial, and iris recognition is a daily frustration.  If you're looking for a phone with no compromise in features and quality, the Galaxy S9 is the phone for you. It has more features than any other phone, it takes fantastic photos, and Samsung is selling it for under $1,000. Starting at $720, the Galaxy S9 can almost be considered a bargain compared to the $1,000 iPhone X. The Galaxy S9 is an easy recommendation for pretty much anyone, but there are excellent Android phones to be had that cost even less, like the $500 OnePlus 5T and $500 Essential Phone. They're not as feature-packed as the Galaxy S9, nor are their cameras quite as good, but you won't mind when you're saving at least $220 on a premium Android smartphone. Plus, both run a near-pure version of Google's Android, which I prefer over the "Samsung Experience" layer that runs on top of Android on the Galaxy S9.

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[danielphowley]

Camera showdown: iPhone X vs iPhone 8 Plus vs Galaxy Note 8 vs Pixel 2

Apple’s iPhone X is an impressive smartphone with an even more impressive camera.

Apple’s iPhone X is an exceptional smartphone. It’s easily the best iPhone the tech giant has ever produced thanks to its improved design, vivid edge-to-edge screen and fantastic Face ID facial recognition scanner.

But the iPhone X has another feature that hasn’t gotten quite as much attention as its ability to use animojis: its camera. See, the iPhone X’s shooter features a dual-lens setup that’s much like the 8 Plus. However, it can capture more light than the 8 Plus’s camera, making for improved image quality.

To test how well the iPhone X’s camera performs, I put it up against the 8 Plus, Google’s Pixel 2 XL and Samsung’s Galaxy Note 8. And while each of the handsets performed incredibly well, Apple’s (AAPL) iPhone X outperformed them where it mattered.

Low-light, no flash

The iPhone X didn’t take the brightest photo, but it captured my complexion and details more accurately than its competitors.

Taking low-light photos is one of the most difficult tests for smartphone cameras. And because of that, no single handset can capture the kind of shots a dedicated camera can take. That said, the iPhone X does the best job of the four phones tested of taking low-light photos.

With the phone’s flash off, the X picked up my reddish skin tone better than the iPhone 8 Plus, which made me look too pale. The Note 8 was able to capture more details in my shirt and created a brighter image, but at the expense of making my skin look more washed out. The Pixel 2 XL pulled up the rear in this test, with photos offering a greater degree of pixelation.

Winner: iPhone X

While each handset struggled to capture solid photos in this setting, the Note 8 took the picture that looked best. It made me look washed out, but was less pixelated than others and offered more detail.

Low-light, with flash

The iPhone X’s flash was more even than any other handset’s camera.

With the flash on, the iPhone X offered better coloring than the 8 Plus, especially when it came to my blue shirt. The 8 Plus, on the other hand, made my features look softer than they should.

Samsung’s Galaxy Note 8 made my skin look a bit washed out, but the result was better than Google’s (GOOG, GOOGL) Pixel 2 XL, which made my skin look ghostly white.

Winner: iPhone X

Both the iPhone X’s and 8 Plus’s flashes captured my reddish skin tone without making it look blown out or turning me into Casper.

Zoom

The iPhone X retained details in this shot, as well as the color of the sun shinning on the building’s windows.

The addition of telephoto lenses to smartphones has made it possible to zoom in on subjects from much farther away than previously possible. But you’ll see varied results across the board. Of the four handsets I tested, all of which I zoomed to about half their max, the iPhone X provided the photo with the most accurate lighting.

While both the iPhone 8 Plus and X capture a similar level of detail, the latter phone captured the more vivid image of the sun’s lighting shining off of the right side of the Empire State Building. The 8 Plus came in second place, while the Note 8 came in third thanks to the level of detail it captured. Still, the Note 8’s picture was too dark.

Google’s Pixel 2 XL, however, falls behind the competition in this round, as it doesn’t offer a telephoto lens with an optical zoom that allows for sharper pictures at a distance. As a result, zoomed images look muddy and lack details.

Winner: iPhone X

The iPhone X captured the clearest shot of the Empire State Building, while retaining the bright colors of the sun reflecting off the tower’s windows.

Colors and whites

The Pixel 2 XL captured more accurate colors than even the iPhone X.

I took this photo of a series of soda bottles to help illustrate how each phones’ cameras capture colors and whites.

Samsung’s Galaxy Note 8 tends to exaggerate colors more than other phones, which makes them more pleasing to look at, but less accurate. The iPhone 8 Plus also seems to exaggerate colors a bit in this shot, though the white wall and tiles have a yellow hue. The iPhone X captured flatter colors from the bottles and a similarly yellow hue for the walls and tiles.

Interestingly, the Pixel 2 XL produced the shot with the whitest walls and tiles and most colorful bottles without over-exaggerating any specific hue, which means this round goes to Google.

Winner: Pixel 2 XL

Thanks to its ability to capture a colorful shot without making the background appear yellow, the Pixel 2 XL gets the nod in this round.

Portrait mode

The iPhone X and iPhone 8 Plus tie for the best portrait photo.

The latest must-have feature for smartphones is the ability to take portrait-style photos. I’m talking about those pictures that make the foreground look exceptionally sharp while blurring the background, an effect called bokeh.

The iPhone X, iPhone 8 Plus and Note 8 achieve this effect by combining the images captured by their wide-angle and telephoto lenses. The Pixel 2 XL, on the other hand, uses software and dual-pixels to blur the background while keeping the subject in focus.

Out of the four phones in this group, the iPhone X took the best portrait photo, with few areas of mismatched focus. The only sections that had such issues were incredibly small and around my coat. Details in the photo weren’t lost, either. The iPhone 8 Plus captured a similarly solid image, though with a hair more distortion.

Samsung’s Galaxy Note 8 had more distortion around the edges of my coat than the X and 8 plus, and washed out the details of my face. The Pixel 2 XL, for its part, was the worst of the group. It didn’t fully blur the background, but did blur part of my hair.

Winner: iPhone X and iPhone 8 Plus

Both the iPhone X and 8 Plus captured impressive photos using their portrait modes. And since both images look the same, the phones take home a tie in this round.

Overall winner:

After taking home the win in three of five rounds, and tying for one, the iPhone X comes out the winner of this camera battle.

More from Dan:

How to turn off the iPhone X

Amazon Cloud Cam review: Amazon’s in-home sentry is a great buy

Microsoft Xbox One X review: A beast of a console at a steep price

Email Daniel at dhowley@yahoo-inc.com; follow him on Twitter at @DanielHowley .