#its like taking the demons surrounding me and putting them in a jar

[reasonablyobsessed]

what is it about writing in the very deepest, darkest and most ominous parts of the night that makes writing so much more easy and enjoyable? am i having the writer zoomies?? is this what it is???

[amaiguri]

Worldbuilding Eating Utensils in Fantasy

Okay okay okay... so I just watched this Utensil Design video and I was like. Omg. This is SO COOL! It's got some pretty sick real-life worldbuilding, so I immediately began to think about it in my world.

Maybe I am WAAAAY too detail oriented with my worldbuilding but honestly, it's not like I'm neglecting my characters and storytelling -- I just also wanna visually design everything to be slightly to the left of reality...

The Tl;dw:

Forks only became popular because of Italian pasta

Christian Priests thought forks were "the Devil's utensil" cuz like pitchforks. No forks. God gave you hands for a reason.

We should bring back eating knives

Chinese Chopsticks were considered to be refined while knives were considered barbaric by early Confucianists -- and thus, they belonged in the kitchen, while daintily picking up pre-chopped food with chopsticks is good

Chopsticks in Japan are considered a bridge between food and your mouth, just like bridges cross rivers or trees bridge you to the Gods. There are celebrations surrounding chopsticks when you're born and when you die. It's a BIG big cultural thing.

In India, your different fingers activate different chakras, so eating with your hands helps connect you to the natural world

So anyway, with those VERY COOL revelations (but seriously, go watch the video), I did some more worldbuilding on Yssaia's eating utensils. Please reblog or something to tell me about your world's eating utensils!

Here's mine:

Northern Culinary Tools

Northerners primary use eating knives -- cutting off their portion of food at the table -- and everyone carries their own set when going to eat at another person's house. This is also because, if someone is going to stab you, everyone is going to want to have their weapons on them.

Finger foods are not unheard of, but are more rare due to the prevalence of gloves year round. They are considered to be more intimate and/or lower class, depending on the context.

Soups are just drunk out of the bowl. Spoons are only for serving.

Demons

Eat with their hands or other shapeshifted appendages. Why would they waste effort making them when they can just bring the food to their mouth with their hands?

Among the Northern Demon Lords, there is probably some etiquette about how you do this (You can't just like gorge yourself with your mouth and dump it into your gullet all the time). It probably has to do with appearances to other people and maximizing your politeness and minimizing how easy it is to steal from you.

Sealfolk

Selkies are known for eating bowls of mackerel, eels, and sea grass whole. Because they can. They probably also invented forks for stabbing slippery things and then eating them. However, unlike in Western culture, you are not expected to eat the whole thing in one bite. You can stab and then take smaller bites off your fork.

Southern Culinary Tools

Southerners use chopsticks and bone spoons in conjunction with more disposable utensils, such as bread, to eat -- due to the heavier reliance on frying and boiling in their cuisine. Their food is generally warmer overall and, in some regions, spicier, thus making it physically harmful to eat with just your hands.

Also, the heavier reliance on fermentation in Telethens means you don't wanna put your filthy hands in the brine or you'll ruin its balance -- you have to use chopsticks to pluck stuff from the jars.

Sidebar: When I do revisions on my webfic, I am ABSOLUTELY going to have to have a scene where Arlasaire learns or even simply complains about having to use chopsticks and that is HILARIOUS.

That being said, the Blood Tsars -- particularly in the South East -- eat more with their hands due to long term connection with Demons. Designing food correctly for manual consumption + the ability to elegantly eat food with your hands and disposable utensils is considered peak culture there.

[rayshippouuchiha]

Yamada: so how did you and izuku start dating

Aizawa: I saw him crush a watermelon with his thighs and I accidentally said out loud “oh god I wish that were me right now” and here we are now

~The way this immediately and completely ate my entire brain~

Of three things Aizawa Shouta is absolutely sure:

One, he simply was not built for operating during the daylight hours. Nighttime really is where it's at in his opinion. The general lack of crowds and eye-searing sunlight just can't be beaten. (Dusk and dawn hours also get a pass but they're both on thin ice.)

Two, the beach is a sandy hell-scape whose only redeeming factor is the convenient access it provides to the eldritch horror that is the ocean aka the place he'll doubtlessly end up drowning himself when he finally, and according to Hizashi inevitably, snaps and runs gibbering mad into the abyss.

And three, he's absolutely and irrevocably cursed. He's being singled out and punished from on high by the gods themselves. His name is writ large across the cosmos in mockery. There is a cosmic "kick me" sign taped to his spiritual back and Shouta's going to hunt his former student Sero down and give him detention for life for encouraging his family's patron god to put it there.

By this point it's really the only logical explanation.

Which, as a card-carrying atheist, he's pretty sure is saying something about the depth of his feelings regarding his current circumstances.

Because there's no other explanation for why or how he's managed to find himself in this current situation.

The situation being, of course, Shouta, in full hero gear, standing in the hot sun on a pristine sandy beach, surrounded by screaming fans as he provides extra security and crowd control for the 20th Annual Heroic Sukiwari Charity Drive.

Shouta has seen hell and it is both Ms. Joke's open mic night and this exact moment right here.

Because, again, he's absolutely 100% cursed.

And the avatar of said curse is, obviously, his soon-to-be ex-best friend who somehow roped him into this entire thing.

Because some people say divine retribution when talking about cosmic revenge plots but Shouta tends to just says Yamada Hizashi. The two are, in many ways, interchangeable.

Shouta's going to put purify salts in all of Hizashi's hair products and also his sugar jar and possibly his energy drinks the next chance he gets.

Because if he never sees another shirtless pro-hero or another watermelon again in his life it'll be too soon.

He's pretty sure he has permanent hearing damage from all of the screaming and screeching the crowd's been doing since this thing started.

And if, after all these years of friendship with the personification of a megaphone, watching a bunch of pro's crush watermelons with nothing but their personal strength on a beach to raise money for various charities is what finally destroys his hearing Shouta is going to shave Hizashi bald before he finally embraces sweet death.

Or enacts Nezu's birthday plans and becomes a supervillain.

The jury's honestly still out at this point.

Shouta does his best to shut out the screaming behind him as one of the cameramen slides up beside him, getting a better angle on the stage as Hizashi, who's currently screeching about Miruko's performance, practically dances across the sand in front of where Shouta's standing.

"Wow, wow, wow," Present Mic chants as he dramatically fans himself, "that was one on heart-stopping, hare-raising show. Let's give it up for everyone's favorite bad, bad, bunny, Miruko!"

For her part, Miruko just struts off the small stage with a nonchalant wave to the crowd, her tiny white bikini in place and the pulverized remains of the half dozen watermelons she'd dropped kicked into soup left behind her.

"But don't lose that rhythm yet listeners," Mic announces gleefully. "Because we've got one more hero set to take the stage! So, without further ado, it's the moment I know a lot of you have been waiting for, myself included if we're being honest. The pièce de résistance of our little shindig, the showstopper himself, the one, the only, the #1 Can Do Hero Dekiru."

The crowd is absolutely deafening.

And, for once, Shouta has to grudgingly admit that he can't actually blame them.

Shirtless, sculpted shoulders and tight abs on display thanks to his low sitting and almost criminally short green swim shorts, and with his trademark bashful smile in place, Dekiru trots out from behind the curtained-off area with a crate of watermelons resting on his shoulder like it's no big deal.

Shouta's pretty sure someone to his immediate right faints but considering they're not currently a trample risk he ignores it.

But the casual show of strength with no quirk use in sight is more than a bit impressive.

For all that people, romance specifically, and attraction in general, have all been things to be considered on a firm case-by-case basis for Shouta, even he has to admit that Dekiru is ... captivating.

Rather drastically so for Shouta considering he's never actually met the man before in person.

Though Shouta does feel like he almost knows him on some level considering the fact that it really would take an act of the actual gods to get Yagi to shut up about his erstwhile protege during staff meetings.

Dekiru waves his free hand at the crowd as he sets his crate of watermelons down on the stage.

"Show us what you've got!" Mic demands from a few feet to Shouta's left. "And let's give him some encouragement listeners!"

The crowd starts up a loud and steady chant of "De~ki~ru!" as the hero pulls his first watermelon out and begins his set.

With an effortless flex of muscles, Dekiru digs his fingers into the watermelon and wrenches it completely in two.

Shouta reaches up to tug at the top of his uniform, relishing the small sip of cool air it grants him.

Shoulders and biceps flexing, another watermelon meets its end between Dekiru's palms.

Shouta really needs to add a water bottle to his utility belt because hydration is important. Or so he's been repeatedly told.

"Those hands, those muscles," Mic groans dramatically. "He really is the Can Do Hero!"

Cheeks noticeably flushed, Dekiru sits down on the stage and fits a watermelon between thick, toned thighs.

His hips twist, those thighs flex, and the watermelon cracks, spilling juice and sweet pink flesh all over Dekiru's lap.

"Oh god," Shouta can't help but say, "I wish that was me right now."

On stage Dekiru's eyes go wide as his attention somehow abruptly zero's in on Shouta.

It's at that moment that Shouta becomes aware of the deafening silence that's fallen over the beach.

Head-turning agonizingly slowly to the left, Shouta's confronted with the sight of Mic, microphone in hand, standing shoulder to shoulder with him.

His sunglasses are askew and he's staring at Shouta with a look on his face that's one part horror and one part unholy glee.

As a matter of fact, the entire beach is staring at him in much the same way.

For a moment Shouta just freezes, body going still at having so much attention turned in his direction.

This ... was not the turn he was expecting the day to take by far.

His first instinct is to, honestly, use his scarf to slingshot himself directly into the sun so his soul can be cleansed with cosmic fire.

But then ...

"Ah," Dekiru speaks up from on the stage, one hand ruffling the back of his hair and cheeks darker than before, "maybe we could go on a date first though? If you'd like?"

There's suddenly a part of Shouta that doesn't actually want to delete himself from existence via self-immolation.

And there's an even large part that doesn't want to outright reject Dekiru's seemingly sincere offer.

Because, when it all comes down to it, Dekiru seems to be, by all accounts, what passes for exactly Shouta's type.

Whip-smart if his very public arrest record and tendency to argue online and on the air with people he disagrees with is anything to go by.

Cute, with that dark green hair and sharp undercut, matching wide eyes, and a face sprinkled liberally with freckles.

Leanly built and small enough that Shouta's sure he could move him around easily but obviously muscular enough to be able to put up just the right amount of resistance in the right situation.

And, above all else, if the stories are to be believed, obviously some degree of batshit insane.

More than one story Yagi had told during breaks had Shouta questioning if the man had imported special American demons back to Japan and then stuffed them all into the deceptively charming and approachable-looking hero that is Dekiru.

So there's really only one logical way to proceed forward in this situation.

Shouta grins.

Several people in the crowd around him step back.

He's pretty sure he hears someone start reciting a prayer.

But Dekiru just blushes, eyes locked on Shouta's and teeth tugging at his lower lip.

"Hope you like coffee," Shouta finally says into the breathless silence that's fallen over them, "and cats."

Dekiru lights up, a smile brighter than the sun and twice as deadly blossoming across his face.

Just off of Shouta's side, Hizashi's busy having some kind of hysterical seizure.

Around them the crowd is going absolutely feral.

Yagi's going to birth actual kittens in the middle of the staff room when he finds out about this.

Shouta can't wait.

[bukojuiice]

fix you.

ೃ pairing: (village prince! katsuki bakugo x princess mononoke! reader)

ೃ  tags: princess mononoke au! studio ghibli au!

ೃ warnings:  mild use of weapons and strong language

ೃ part 1/2  of the princess mononoke! au

ೃ word count 4.119 words

ೃ 2/??? of @bukojuiice’s studio ghibli au

ೃ  my nav  →  my mha writing masterlist  → my katsuki bakugo x reader smau

ೃ  Loosely based off of Princess Mononoke! Not necessarily a word for word retelling/alternate universe. You can read on without any prior knowledge of this beautiful Studio Ghibli film. Hope you enjoy!

ೃ if you want to be part of this studio ghibli au taglist, send me an ask! or if you want to be a part of my mha taglist in general, send me an ask indicating whichever you want to be a part of!

ೃ  please do reblog if you enjoyed!! (feel free to add tags too because i love reading them and my heart swells with happiness when people love my work!)

ೃ shoto todoroki’s fic (howl’s moving castle au) for those of you who want to read the first in this series!

ೃ taglist: @chibishae34​ @sparkykatsuki​ @ramunegoddess​

 ೃ Katsuki Bakugo is the righteous yet arrogant village prince of the east. The entire village relies on him for protection and for guidance, further inflating his ego. however, after a cursed boar attacks him and the curse is passed on to him as a poisonous mark on his arm, slowly consuming him until he becomes a demon himself. he is exiled without hesitance from his village and is to go on a journey to look for a cure, a journey he might never come back from. With the help of two of his most trusted allies, he embarks on a journey to look for the gods of the forest in where he meets a girl (just as striking as him) who brings him back down to earth, saves him and make him experience a true life worth living.

“Damn this life.” Katsuki curses under his breath, rolling up his sleeves, and collecting clear water from the riverbend and transferring it into his jar.

“Hey! This isn’t that bad!” Eijiro Kirishima, son of the second in command to Katsuki’s mother, his most trusted ally and #2 most annoying fucker on this planet, cheekily grins, patting the blonde on the back. “We’ve gone through worse things in the past. And yet here we are! We’re still alive! Aren’t we?”

“Yea! We’ll find the forest gods soon! Offer food for them and hopefully they give us a cure! This is going to be easy!” Denki Kaminari, another one of his most trusted allies, grandson of one of the wise elders, and #1 most annoying fucker on this planet, reassures his friend whilst aimlessly fixing the saddle on his elk.

Why did life have to be like this?

Who did Katsuki Bakugo infuriate from high above to have this tremendous bad luck and fate be put upon him? All he wanted was to live a noble life as a village prince, have his mother pass down her position of power onto him, become the new village chief, live a life of prosperity, help his people, and then pass away with no regrets. But life just had to do this to him no?

After an unexpected attack of a raging cursed boar consumed by black slithering enigmas in the hills of Mustafu village, the handsome village prince was the only one able of combat who was around the vicinity at the time. He had no choice but to hurl himself in front of the boar, shooting one of his famed  arrows, sharper than most and one of the best in his arsenal.  The boar had met its demise by his hands. However, not without getting revenge at Katsuki, by passing its curse onto him. The black ooze slithering onto his arm before the animal had fully perished.

That was the worst day of his life.

As the son of the village chief and as one of the most well-known individuals in his tribe, how was he supposed to react?

Katsuki had always been number one. Never once slipping to loss or to failure. Never getting injured. Never letting his guard down. Never disappointing his parents. Never losing his pride nor his mighty personality.

He was the paragon of success.

But, sometimes, the best people feel lost and useless too.

The fact that his mother had easily let go of him, have the wise villager elders speak ill of him and banish him, having to leave everything he had loved and worked hard for, lose his position as a prince, and have the people of his village look at him in abhorrence and disgust, had ended up becoming the most painful experiences he ever had to go through in his entire life.

Leaving quietly at the dead of the night with no proper goodbyes but a brief hug, gift of a good luck charm from his mother, and the willing accompaniment of his two most trusted friends (although he would not like to admit the appreciation he has for them, he was very grateful) on this fruitless journey… He could never have it any other way.

What kind of life was he even going to lead from here on forth?

He didn’t want to stop believing. He didn’t want to lose hope. This wasn’t like him. Katsuki Bakugo knew who he was. He knows how headstrong he is, how prideful, persevering, and how much of a smart-ass he is. He had no time to sulk and contemplate about his demise and what fate had in store for him.

Although, it would be nice if he could release all these pent-up emotions and frustrations at least once. Just once.

He just has no idea how to and who to open up to.

Putting his vulnerable emotions aside, he is going to defy his destiny and take down whatever may come his way.

Making sure no one was going to stop him from doing so.

“Let’s go.” Katsuki jerks his head, gesturing his party members to start walking to the other side of the forest.

“Wait… haven’t we gone there already?” Kaminari protests, not raising his voice nor overreacting because even he knew that Katsuki was on a bad mood as per usual. (With this being the second afternoon of their journey and because they have to leave their animal companions by the river due to how unstable the geographical and terrestrial properties of the forest were.)

Katsuki shoots him a glare, the other blonde clearing the lump in his throat in response. “Okay okay! Let’s go then!”

They quietly navigate through the forest, hearing nothing but the sound of their own feet stepping on the grass, crickets chirping, fireflies flying about, the towering trees swaying with the wind, and the calming yet lonely atmosphere of the woodlands to accompany them.

“Kirishima.” Bakugo calls out coldly. “Are you sure that this is the same forest depicted in the legends?”

“Positive.” Kirishima replies, nodding aimlessly whilst turning his head and taking in their surroundings. “If we spot some Kodama, that means we’re near the tree that stands alone.”

“Tree that stands alone?” Denki asks, tilting his head and sparking a discussion. “Also, what even is a Kodama?”

“You’re the grandson of a village elder yet you’re asking me?” Eijiro narrows his eyes at his other blonde friend. “Kodama are the little white spirits who live in trees. They don’t necessarily guide travelers but instead watch them. They only intervene if ever anything bad happens. If we see them appear then that means we’re close to the spiritual core of the forest. The tree that gives life.”

Yakushima Forest. Located in the southern region, is the settlement of the forest gods and the place where the oldest trees of Japan and those known to man stand strongly. The power and the spiritual energy stored in this wonderous and enchanting forest could only be seen and could only be discovered by heroes and travelers with a pure of heart as the forest was welcoming only to visitors with pure and selfless intentions. However, to those who wish to exploit it and to ruin its beauty will be punished heavily by the gods in the most gruesome ways possible.

Katsuki breathes out a hefty sigh, leading his two other friends who were happily following him from behind. There was this bizarre feeling of anxiety welling up inside him. He was not himself and he couldn’t tell why. All he could do was pretend to remain calm and collected…

He will find that cure.

He will be able to save himself and he will be able to come back to his village, victorious and free of the curse.

Bakugo stops in his tracks when they encounter another streaming river. His two companions almost bump into him with how abrupt he halted in his steps.

There was something amiss in the river.

It wasn’t a bad spirit nor was it some bad energy, but Katsuki could feel something.

There was someone else there.

And he felt that they weren’t exactly the friendly type who would help them.

“Bakugo-sama, why did we stop-“ Kaminari is hushed by his blonde friend before he could even have the chance to utter another word. Kirishima quickly picked up what Katsuki is trying to motion to them and proceeds to quietly scout around the area. “There’s a girl? Wolves too.” He whispers from behind a bush not far from where his friends were standing.

“Let’s go back to the nearby village. Stay at the inn there.” Bakugo whispers sternly, as if not wanting to hear any other remarks from his friends.­

“Wait! Bakugo, I know we’re near the tree. Why stop now!?” Kirishima fussed. He knew something was up. “We’re pretty close. We can just set up a fire here then-“

“I said let’s head back. Damn it.” Katsuki repeated his words. This time, in a sort of a growl. “If you don’t want to go back, feel free to die here if you want.” He starts treading back to the path where they came from. Denki looks at his red-headed friend worriedly, even he, of all people, had finally noticed that there was something wrong with their most beloved village prince. Kirishima nods at him cautiously, the two of them walking together behind Bakugo.

They quickly got back to the small village near the forest with no interruption, as the chit-chatter and the energy radiating between both Kirishima and Kaminari were low as Katsuki was in a even terrible mood, refusing to talk to any of them nor humoring their antics and small jokes.

They continue to spend the rest of their day in silence. With, Katsuki, immediately heading back to his quarters to rest whilst his two other companions remained outside to help some village folk and prepare dinner.

The village chieftain of the quaint settlement had a good relationship with Katsuki’s mother. They were good trade partners and the village chief wanted to do everything in their power to help Katsuki be free of the curse by the means of giving him a private inn to stay in and come back to whenever he and his friends would like to. It wasn’t much, but Katsuki needed all the help he could get on this otherwise hopeless quest. Even if he refused the said offers at first.

After another awfully quiet bonding time with Bakugo at dinner, the convivial duo had to break the silence. Denki had thought of the most wonderful idea of bringing up the topic of the girl who was accompanied by wolves in the forest. Because, hey, it’s a girl in the forest! What could possibly be weird about that?

“Hey! So about that girl that we saw…” Kaminari suddenly speaks up, nudging Kirishima in the arm, signaling him to answer his query. Bakugo barely looks up at the sound of his friend’s yapping, continuing to play with the food on his bowl. “Who do you think was she?”

“She’s most probably the wolf princess.” Eijiro shrugs casually, biting on a roasted corncob. “Yakushima forest is protected by the three animal gods whom we know by now as the forest gods. The Wolf goddess, The Gorilla king, and The Deer god. The Deer god being the most powerful of them all. There have been rumors and reports going around that the goddess had taken in an abandoned human girl, and was treated as one of their kin years ago. The girl holds pure resentment for her own kind and chooses to live in the Yakushima forest, taking down every single human who has negative intentions and evil plans for the land she lives in.”

“Well, if she’s that badass, then you shouldn’t call her a princess. She’s a queen!” Kaminari remarks, biting on his newly roasted corncob, listening eagerly to Kirishima’s tale. Bakugo looks up at Denki and the goofy blonde could have sworn he saw a small smile form on Katsuki’s face.

Kirishima laughs at his friend’s little quip, “You’re right. She’s amazing, isn’t she?”

“You weirdos should get to sleep. We go back to the forest first thing in the morning.” Katsuki stands up from his seat, his hands in his pockets, grumpily trotting away to the inn.

“Oh.” Denki blinks. “That was faster than I thought. I didn’t expect him to be convinced so easily. Did you pull that story from your ass Kirishima-kun?”

The red-haired teen shook his head. “Nope. All of that was real.”

“For real? You’re not joking?”

“Yup.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Goodnight then!” The other blonde leaves his seat, patting Eijiro in the arm before leaving and going back to his quarters.

Kirishima looks up at the glistening night sky, a few stars present in the sky to greet him a wonderful night, the boy hoping he would find an answer amongst the stars. “May the gods help us in our adventure.” He breathes a hefty sigh, closing his eyes. After a few more minutes of praying for guidance, he puts out the fire and retreats back to his room.

The night passes by quickly, another day of their adventure waiting to unfold.

“Don’t you dare come back here you disgusting prince.”

“No one wants him here! Got it? Let him go on this adventure and never come back!”

“He’s just a burden. To be cursed by an animal as simple as a boar? Pathetic.”

“Useless vermin.”

“Banished forever? How sad.”

“A prince falling from grace? Predictable.”

The voices of the village people echo in his head.

These were words from them that he was not meant to hear. Ones that he accidentally heard before leaving that same night. These were the words that will haunt him forever.

He, Katsuki Bakugo, of all people, would let all these horrid, vile, and false words get to him?

These were the same words with the same meaning that he’s heard hundreds and hundreds of times from different people, yet it never got to him. He chose to ignore them.

But, why now? What was going on?  Why was he feeling this way?

Katsuki awakens at the dead of the night. Beads of sweat falling from his temples, his breath hitched and his body aching. He was not himself right now and this intense feeling of uneasiness and torment confirmed it. Although, he wanted to keep this to himself. He didn’t want anybody else to know what he was feeling. He could overcome this on his own. He could do this all on his own.

“I’ll show them.” He continues to breathe at a fast pace, still a bit shocked by the nightmare he had just seen. “I’ll fucking show them that I am the prince of the Mustafu tribe.” He props himself up from his sleeping mat, reaching for his neatly folded clothes beside him. “And nothing’s going to change that.”

Katsuki begins to get dressed, feeling nothing but anger and determination running through his veins. He puts on his grey vest and wraps his red cape onto his back. He continues to put on his ensemble when a sudden rush of pain begins to throb in his arm. Bakugo’s immediate reaction is to curl up, holding his stomach to try and ease the pain.

The curse was acting up again, reacting to the anger and negative emotions that Katsuki was feeling right now. The blonde winces in pain, kneeling down on the floor to take a hold of his arm that was manifesting a glowing blue and black aura. His muscle continues to throb and he could do nothing but hold it down and take in all the pain until it eventually goes away.

After several minutes of resisting and trying to ease the pain by thinking of more positive and enlightening thoughts, the throbbing suddenly stops. Bakugo goes back to breathing at a normal pace. He rests for a few minutes, making sure that his body was functioning properly once more before he quickly heads out of his private room to head to back to Yakushima forest, searching for answers. He didn’t have time to wait for Kirishima and Kaminari anymore. He was growing impatient, and hearing the haunting words of his village people circling in his head fueled his will power to get this whole ordeal done and head back home.

It was finally the end of another day protecting the forest.

You were about on your daily patrol with the wolf goddess and your wolf siblings, when you encounter three young men who looked like they were lost in the woods. You immediately assumed that they were looking for the tree of life. But they weren’t like the others. They weren’t finding it for selfish reasons. They were looking for it in hopes to find a cure for a curse. That’s what their auras were trying to show at least.

One of those men particularly piqued your interest.

He was… handsome? Was that the word that humans used?

He had ash blonde hair that spiked upwards at all angles, passionate red orbs that gave him such a striking appearance, as if he could hold up the world in his hands. Calloused hands that had taken a part in many battles, a muscular build like that of a noble warrior, a shining sword just as big as him and an arrow that he looked like he was adept at using.

Yet despite your observations, there was this mysterious air around him that you just couldn’t understand.

“(Y/N)? Dear? Is anything wrong?” The elegant white wolf goddess, Moro, calls out to her human daughter, with a worried look.

“I saw 3 dorks by the riverbend on our patrol a while ago.” You say rather jokingly, trying to remember their faces. “I should have struck them down when I had the chance.” You shake your head, reaching for the knife in your skirt and grasping it.

“How so?” The goddess twitches her ear, as if raising an eyebrow at you. “Did you feel any bad spirits within them? Any emotional aura? I told you to do that before attempting to attack anyone remember?”

“There was this particular man among them who had strong energy. He was radiating a gloomy yet aggressive energy. Like that of a person hiding their true emotions to remain strong and brave to the outside world. I kind of felt sorry for him.” Your voice trails off as you nestle your body next to the wolf goddess, along with your siblings who were cuddled up next to you too.

“Why don’t you go check up on him then?” Moro replies casually, as if teasing you. You raise your head up, feeling a tint shade of pink appear on your cheeks.

“W-what do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

A shrieking noise began to ring in your ears, signaling that a human has entered the forest. You quickly rise up from the bed of leaves you were sleeping in. Running out of the cave, you gallop down a slope and sprint your way to the foot of the forest. The spirits guiding you to where you needed to go.

You feel the hostile energy yet again.

Could it be the young man from earlier?

When he enters your field of vision, you climb up the nearest tree to get a clearer look at him from above and from afar.

He still had the same expression plastered upon his face since this afternoon. An irritated and scornful look, yet there was kindness in his eyes that you couldn’t describe.

It wasn’t the kindness that you would see from the eyes of a regular person but it was a kindness that was combined with a desire to protect the people around him. It was different and oddly comforting.

You continue to observe his every move, waiting for him to mess up or try to hurt the magical properties of the forest before you confront him to ask why the hell was he even roaming around in the forest, in the middle of night like a fluffy dog.

Katsuki noticed you standing on the tree-tops.

You weren’t exactly the greatest hide and seek player.

However, he chose to shrug you off and ignore you as he continues to look for traces of spiritual energy that could lead him to the tree of life.

Based on the stories that Kirishima had told, he was actually a bit surprised by your appearance. He couldn’t make out your face with the mask that you were wearing but he noticed your mildly disheveled hair, the ragged clothes you had on, a cape made of white fur and a necklace adorned with three fangs hanging on your neck. From that alone, he knew you were a princess. Not your conventional princess per se with all the jewelry, intricate headpieces and beautiful dresses but, the presence that you have has sort of a dignified feel to it. You might not look like the part but you embodied everything that a princess should be. Headstrong, intelligent, confident in her beliefs, and never afraid to stand her ground.

That’s what Katsuki thinks at least.

With all the stories that Kirishima had recited about the Yakushima forest, you were one of the most interesting bits.

Katsuki Bakugo was enthralled by you in more ways than one.

You were a mysterious enigma that he had to unravel.

You were getting a bit tired of watching him aimlessly roam around the forest. He was absolutely going nowhere which is funny because he didn’t strike you as a person who had no sense of direction. In an alternate universe, he’d probably be kidnapped by some villain or bad guy if he continued to be reckless like this, just walking around without a care in the world.

You spoke too soon.

You barely dodge a sharp arrow that pierces through a tree. It wasn’t from the young man you were watching but from someone else. Thieves. two of them.

You forgot that you weren’t able to sense other humans entering the forest if you focus on a particular one. It completely slipped your mind that there would still be sick individuals who would try and attempt to find the riches of the forest despite the many incidents happening time and time again warning humans to not enter the Yakushima Forest if they want to explore it for their own selfish desires.

You hastily jump down onto the ground, releasing a flurry of punches and kicks at the thieves, knocking 2 of them unconscious. You thought that the fight was over until you hear agonizing screams from the other side of the forest.

You quickly sprint your way there, hoping nothing serious had happened and no one was hurt in the process.

You arrived in a secluded area, tall trees covering the sun or the moon for the light to seep into, resulting in a dark and gloomy atmosphere.

You stop in your tracks when you notice six thieves unconscious on the ground too. You were about to breathe a sigh of relief when you notice that the boy was panting heavily, injuries and deep wounds were present all around his body. He was terribly injured. He stares at you for a few seconds before collapsing onto the ground.

You grit your teeth, approaching him with a scornful look. “You’ve wasted your life by getting in my way!” You sheathe his blade from it’s scabbard, pointing it directly to his chest. Katsuki’s chest rises up and down, a sign showing that he was breathing normally but was at the brink of unconsciousness.

“I’ll cut your throat! That will shut you up!”

“You’re beautiful…”

He mumbles, his eyes fluttering open, making intense eye contact with yours.

You suddenly feel your heart race, thumping loudly. You pull the sword away and jump away from him. You were taken aback by his words because of how he caught you off guard just like that. Who gave him the right to do this to you? Who was he in the first place?

Why did he make you feel all these soft and mushy feelings right now?

Who gave him the right to do this to you?

A human being? 

A feeling sparking in your chest...

Is this what humans  call love?

-        To be continued.

[lackingspace]

Null Moon (Marko x Reader)

Rating: SFW

Word Count:5.5k 

Summary: Due to some mad bogus circumstances your hand was forced into relocating to the Santa Carla witch coven. Not exactly where you saw yourself, but beggars cant be choosers or however that saying goes. New coven, new community, no idea how this was going to play out, what could go wrong?

Warnings: Nothing really. Just 80s slang, some suggestive themes, trigger warning for witchcraft I guess, vampire boys doing stalky vampire things, and expanding the magical community at large. Throw in psychic fliting too. The only real warning here is that I wax soliloquy, stopping me is impossible.

So I watched Lost Boys again and Marko just too pretty and wouldn’t stop, so I had to write about it. I’m dedicated to worldbuilding because it pleases me, so no smut yet, but don’t worry, its comin. Enjoy the 80s slang sprinkled everywhere. Out of no where I know, but I hope you all like it ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Part 2: Blood Moon ✧･ﾟ:

Salt was something you’d found yourself trying to quickly get accustomed to. Don’t get it twisted, you weren’t mental and liked it in your food just fine, but it was in everything here. It was bogus, really. None of your new sisters warned you about the mundane annoyances when relocating to their beachfront town.

It was almost insidious how it could worm its way into just about anywhere and everything. Even on days you were a shut-in, your hair still had a salty ocean breeze scent and you swore you’d find grains of sand in the oddest of places. It wasn’t that big of a deal, just another thing out of your control-- one you’d never be able to change. 

The atmosphere answered to no one. Maybe this was the ocean’s way of welcoming you into the fold? Taking it as a sign that the gods were pleased with your departure from the Louisiana coven helped soothe the bitter ache.  

You had other things to occupy your thoughts, anyway. Nothing exciting, just the very normal, very stressful situations that came with moving. Having a not so smooth departure made your integration into this coven rocky. Trying to smooth that out while accommodating for the new energy and dynamic of the community made things difficult. Stressful? Definitely. Normal? Unfortunately. Hectic? Totally, but still necessary to process. 

Getting to know your new coven sisters was also proving tedious, certain views not quite matching up. At least you were kept too busy to really worry over it. Keeping your mind occupied made everything easier. Even if they didn’t know why you’d really been looking to transfer, it was no secret on their end why they’d been so eager to accept you. They’d had a very specific position that none of the current members were willing to entertain. 

A major part of the job was the operation of the coven owned metaphysical shop on the boardwalk, night shift specifically. That had a swirl of mixed emotions bristle your senses- excitement just edging out over apprehension. Your old coven hadn't been open to the human public in any way, shape, or form. The practice was sacred and you were taught to keep it that way.

The only non-paranormal individuals allowed within the walls were partners of the community. A werewolf's mate, for instance, maybe suffering an energetic imbalance would be brought in. So dealing with the stuffy clueless human populace nightly? Well, the idea was less than stellar...but survival required adaptation, and you could be flexible. Still, predicting the havoc it’d play on your nerves was easy. Good thing wine existed because having a glass a day was majorly on the agenda. 

Oh well, every job had to have something and each place had slightly different energetic needs, different spiritual practices, and don’t even get you started on the nuances of rituals- everyone and their mom have their own twist. Baton Rouge had been a prime example of that- a hotbed for the magical community, it was embedded in the culture. Overflowing with a little something for everyone and then some. Different ailments, practices, people, and best of all different magics. 

On the other hand, all that variety came at the cost of a massive headache in interspecies politics. Witches and vampires, weres and goblins, selkies and sirens, demons and wendigos, elementals and everyone, keeping up with who was at who's throat was exhausting. It gave you a gnarly stomach ache frankly, but if that was the price of learning your craft, well, it wasn't that steep.

Headache, stomach pains, whatever- it was a price you'd gladly pay- had paid. Plus, you had loved the community there. Once you got past the politics there was a wealth of knowledge and power just floating around, free for grabs- even when it wasn’t free, there were ways to get what you’d wanted. 

Admitting that your departure had left hella bitter resentment towards your previous sisters was something you actively denied. Your new high priestess hadn’t wanted any hexes sent their way following her acceptance of you. Assuring her it was a mutual departure had been easy, they were extremely desperate and hadn’t really gone through all the hoops to look into it. Besides, it was technically true, there wouldn’t be hexes, just bad blood. There wasn’t really a need to let them know they’d be black listed from the area communals. You’d been to enough of them in the past, they weren’t that special anyway.

Here, alone in the dark with your thoughts, you could sit with the discontent. The choice to leave hadn’t been yours, but you could admit it was for the best. When faced with exile you were willing to sacrifice. Resentment notwithstanding, growth rarely happened if you stayed stagnant for too long. This could actually be a blessing in disguise, even with the perpetual gallons of salt. So here you were; New city, new coven, new people, new rules. 

A sigh escaped you at the thought as you put on a nice balancing act for anyone watching. The rules were certainly different here. 

Less in some ways, more in others- some very curious agreements. Carefully trying, and trying being the keyword, to descend some questionable-looking stairs while carrying delicate cargo. It being pitch black didn't exactly help either, but at twelve am with no flashlight, the darkness was expected. 

Not like you could carry one right now anyway and you’d be caught dead before you put on one of those gaudy forehead lights. A distant bonfire, presumably with partygoers, a few miles off was the only source of light outside of the odd shop still lighting up the boardwalk in the distance. 

Neither were a help to you here, but the darkness didn't bother you much, it was more the feeling of the wood against your feet that had you on edge. Foregoing shoes had seemed like the smarter choice knowing you'd be walking in the loose sugary sand, but with the way it mixed against the rough wood to scratch against the arch of your foot? Regret was front and center which only exacerbating your already agitated mind.

Catching your toe on an uneven patch in the wood had you hissing in pain. Someone was def getting cursed if you got a splinter. Actually, you'd be surprised if you made it out without one. These steps were legit grody, they barely even qualified as stairs honestly. 

Just some half termite eaten planks, driftwood more likely, definitely nothing professional, all nailed together and stuck into the side of a steep sand dune. Falling on your ass at some point was almost guaranteed- You were always a major klutz in these situations.

Shrugging your shoulder and regripping the box, at least the sand would give you a semi-soft landing whenever it happened. 

You should thank whatever beachrat made these stairs though, adjusting your grip on the box again had the jars inside clanking together, water sloshing- good thing you'd tightened the lids before leaving the shop. Thanks to these little stairs you didn’t have to miserably fail at trying your luck in midnight sand surfing. If this was midday you’d have trouble with it still- trying sand surfing now? That'd be so warped. Ugh, just imagine having to make your way back up? Now that'd be a real treat- psych.  

When both feet planted safely, and surprisingly splinter-free, in the soft sand you shook yourself into focus. No more letting your thoughts drive you, way too much negativity to unpack and you didn't need that energy seeping into your work here. Moon-water wasn’t usually the most influenceable, but you could, and with your attitude the way it was? You’d totally choke if you didn’t check yourself. No need to mess up your first job, right?

Breathing deeply you set about focusing your mind; grounding, feeling yourself coming back to a controlled center was the first step of your job here tonight. Tightening your grip and breathing in had the scent of the ocean hit you full force. With practiced ease, focusing inward had your eyes naturally drifting shut and calm settle over you. It was incredible how soothing grounding- ritual in general really, could be. 

Your next inhale highlighted the subtle undertones of the boardwalk overlaid in the breeze, an amalgamation that fused into a scent uniquely Santa Carla. Letting your energy sink deep within you, then lower down still, dropping into the earth, feeling the vibrations of your surroundings- naturally letting it mix with the energies surrounding you. The ocean was a powerful tool, you'd be a ditz to ignore its embrace. There was an unusual magnetic pull in the air, a buzz that licked against your senses.

The full moon was calling, and like the ocean, you were here to answer.  

Centered and ready to work you made your way down to the shore. Funny thing about this new coven, part of the new rules was night rituals were restricted to a single practitioner. That restriction had seemed mental to you, and frankly? You still thought they were a bit out there to bend to such restrictions, but once you learned there was a surprisingly sizable vampire pack in the area it had made more sense. Having just one practitioner was easier for accountability and all that, but like, it was still twisted.

Vampires were picky. They claimed a territory and stuck to it. Any other lucky supernatural creature was subject to their "authority". Barf me out with that attitude. If they weren't solitary, it was usually a duo, anything more than a trio was especially rare. Vampires could be mega volatile in general, but especially towards one another. The fact that there were at least four confirmed vamps in the area? Now, that piqued your interest. Their bonds had to be radically tight to stay together with any type of calm.  

Unfortunately, vampires and witches? Typically not such a hot mix. 

Vampires and magic didn't always mesh well and historically that meant witches and vampires couldn't play nice together. Funnily enough, this coven didn't go against status quo- every sister you'd met so far vehemently detested vamps. Too bad they were smackdab in the middle of fang city. 

The location being legit brill had something to do with how docile the coven acted. It said something when witches were willing to take shit and obey in order to practice. Energetically potent, magically powerful, Santa Carla was a delightful nexus. Not to mention scenic too. 

The coven was desperate for someone to be the designated night ritualist, working the stores night shift was just a caveat. The timing had worked out because you were just as desperate. You thought the whole vampire witch feud thing was lame, but it’d saved you from ex-communication, so you'd keep that tidbit to yourself. 

Vampires didn't bother you really. Well, they could, but not because the vampy bit, just the entitled attitude. Anyone could be a barf bag regardless of what they were. You'd met just as many ditzy witches as narbo vamps. You were more concerned that you'd most definitely have human tourists bombarding you every night. 

What got you though was the craziest part of the deal. When within a 15 mile radius of the boardwalk there was a restriction to strictly restorative work. Even being a nexus, you weren’t sure this place was worth neutering yourself energetically for. Sure, vampire's had their reasons, severe sensitivity to magic yada-yada, not to mention if their bond was as tight as you assumed, they probably felt active magic like nails on a chalkboard, but damn. 

You couldn’t believe the high priestess would agree to it. It really seemed the witches got the short end of the stick here. You weren’t seeing a lot of benefits for yourself. So far your opinion on the coven was….well, at this point you were half-convinced you’d joined a gaggle of ditzes. 

Having taken stock of the ingredients they had on hand a quick glance had made replenishing the monthly moon water a top priority. It was such a simple thing, very useful, super versatile, and no one in the coven had been willing to make a large batch of it. Ugh, imagine letting prejudice get in the way of making such a staple ingredient. There wasn't anything fancy that went into it. A cool head, even temper, patience, and a little prep was all that it needed. 

That’s what you were here for now, though. They could keep their dislike and eat their cake too. Still, you weren’t completely obstinate and took their warning to heart, it wasn't just the vampires that made the area witches refuse the night shift. 

Santa Carla wasn’t exactly Disneyland. Murder was a thing and it happened here daily. Nexus’s tended to have a magnetic draw. Pulling in powerful things, good things, weak things, bad things- the sheer unpredictability wasn’t a friend in this case.  

A random human could decide tonight was beach shanking night and you’d be the lucky victim. You’d like to see them try at least. Maybe one of the vampire pack would break the agreement if they were feeling a bit nippy? Doubtful if they didn’t want a war on their hands, but possible. A stray wendigo attracted to your energy feeling a midnight snack seemed more likely. Could even be a banshee needing a quick meal. Never can tell how things were going to work out. 

Knowing yourself though, you’d probably just trip up those hella grimy stairs and break your neck.

You weren’t too worried about being attacked though, honestly. You had wards in place and if it got past that, well, you'd deal with whatever it was then. No use worrying about it now. You were more than happy to take on the privilege to essentially moon bathe on the beach while funneling the energy to the water. It was good on all levels.

Walking to the area you’d scouted during the day set your mind back into focus. Setting the box down, the jars jostling while you grabbed the blanket hanging off the side of the box. Spreading it out and setting up your area had everything falling in place. The jars spread just along the outside of your circular blanket, with that done you sat yourself down in the center.

Determined to do this right you brought back that focused rooted energy. Using this as an opportunity to release some built-up tension would be a good idea too. Let the ocean wash away your bitterness with the tide and allow the moon to shift you into clarity for whatever was to come. Even if you did think your new sisters were idiots, they were to be your idiots and you had to embrace it.

As you laid there working the energy and letting it shift, you noticed a curious sensation at the edge of your perception. 

A slight tickling at the fringe of your awareness; soft, so extremely soft and subtle that if you’d just gone about your business and hadn’t been so introspective focused you’d totally have passed it over. 

Watched.

The subtle sensation wasn’t threatening as of yet, but you were definitely being watched. By what? You weren’t sure. Getting a firm reading on it was difficult. The more you focused on the energy the further it pulled back. Pursuing it only had whoever it was slyly staying just out of your grasp. 

Definitely not human. Wouldn’t be a witch or a medium either, they’d just answer your psychic questioning. Could be a were, you’d heard they’d been in the area recently. The next brush sent a shiver down your spine and had you crossing weres off. It was definitely too silky to be one, they always felt gruffer to you, wilder. Possibly a demon, they had that shade of sensuality and always liked to follow you around in new territory. A quick flash of tightly-wound sharp control coated in a mischievous air finally spit out the answer; Vampire.

Satisfied, you dropped the pursuit and turned your attention back to the sea. Subtle brushes returning, but this time not trying to hide itself or their interest. So one of the new overlords had decided to drop in on their new subject? That was just fine as long as they stayed watching and didn’t interfere. 

You’d give it to whichever vamp this was. They had wicked nice energy. Like, once you got a read on that was. Playful, cheeky almost to a fae’s degree, brimming with an elusive danger, while still having a quiet peace underneath. That quiet calm resonated inside your own field and was exactly what you needed to settle back into your space. You didn’t hate the idea of their company so much.

You’d expected a run-in at some point, but right away? They were some go-getters to the max.

Nothing came of it though, the watcher had just been that. A watcher. When three am came, went, and passed, you’d decided to pack things up. You felt their vigilant gaze the entire time. Even after you got in your car and motored on home, it was still with you. It was only after you entered your home did their light press on your awareness leave. 

The rest of your week played out much the same. Feeling that attentive gaze in every outside ritual from start to well after the finish. Even while you were working the shop they’d pop in and out of your awareness only to settle when you were locking up for the night.

You’d tried to catch a glimpse of who your designated monitor was, but it proved an impossible task. Stealth was a vampire’s friend and this one was incredibly apt. They stayed just far enough away during ritual and on the boardwalk you were too busy entertaining space cadet humans or dealing with an actual client to seek them out. 

On that note, there was a surprising number of shapeshifters in the area, changelings especially had been a nice treat. They weren’t exactly common in Louisiana and working with them was always interesting. They required a delicate eye and full attention when diagnosing their condition. 

A shapeshifter’s physicality was entirely based on energy manipulation, so one wrong push or pull and you could injure them more than help. Pinpointing where your attentive observer was out in the crowd became annoyingly out of the question. 

They’d turn up eventually. Until then, however, you’d just have to sit tight. Lucky for you changelings had a penchant for gossiping. They’d been kind enough to give you a rundown on the pack and their opinion of them. Changelings weren’t known to have easily won loyalty, so the popular opinion on them being pretty rad, was surprising. 

They were apparently chill on the authority, which was shocking enough, but they said the pack leader, David, could be hella genial. Vampires weren’t usually described that way. Not outside of the anyone they were glamouring anyway. Maybe the coven weren’t such spazes to reside here.

Friday saw your week coming to a close. You’d woken up ready to put your first week behind you and spend the weekend really exploring the area. There was a nice hiking trail not too far away that you’d really wanted to spend some time at. A few brownies had spirited into the shop and mentioned it as a great area for herbs and ritual during conversation. 

Brewing a second cup of tea, calming herbs this time- regular humans really did get on your nerves with their incessant brainless questions and barf bag attitude. There were a few mediums that'd dropped in who you didn't mind, actually really liked, but the rest of the human race made you want to gag. Lumping witches and poor mediums into the same category didn’t seem fair.

The night was steadily cruising along. The humans came in bursts, sporadic, but manageable. Client-wise, nothing too dramatic either, the most interesting case was a few sprites suffering a nasty goblin hex. It was an easy enough fix, orders on how to use the herbs, and a cautionary chastising to leave the gobbies alone unless invited. They giggled their departure as you shook your head, sprites never learned. 

The night's energy had you listless. Only a few hours left before you could close down shop and you were antsy. No pressing ceremonies to perform tonight for the coven either, so heading straight home to open that bottle of wine you'd acquired before your arrival was on the top of the to-do list. 

Curiously, your nightly specter hadn't visited once. It was surprising how fast you'd gotten used to a vampire’s energy body. If you were honest with yourself, you'd even come to look forward to having it- him, the changelings had listed only male vampires, being a steady sensation on the outer edges of your senses. 

The absence of the strange new routine left you with an unsettled itch. Something was off, you could tell, your antsiness screamed of something about to happen, you just weren't sure what. 

The answer came not too long after that. With a lull of what you assumed to be the last customers of the night, you’d busied yourself restocking and starting to close down. High on the shelf ladder reorganizing the herb wall. It got so messy with the daily run-through of customers’ grubby hands all over it. Turning a jar forward as the bell above the door sounded. 

"Welcome! I'll be-" the energy that zapped your senses had you cut off the greeting with a sharp inhale. Thank the gods you hadn't been holding one of the glass jars, it'd be smithereens otherwise. 

The shift had hit you instantly, an electric buzz that lapped against your mental self. Giving you a clear idea of what just walked in. Four of them. They'd all come. Shifting through the sensation, trying to grasp each of their unique patterns had you stopping short when you felt your chaperone's energy reach out to you.

It wasn't just a soft prodding like usual, instead, it was like a full-body caress. More like a lick if you were honest. 

Skin tingling, electric sparks sent down your spine settling somewhere you'd rather not question right now, and if your nipples had tightened from it? Well, that was nobody's business. Beneath the shameless lick was an urge of reassurance. 

The unspoken highly nuanced language assuring you of safety. Thank the goddess you were fluent. It was odd, really, a vampire reassuring a witch of their safety? You weren't prey, not if they wanted the coven to stay placid. Even if they’d decided to attack you weren’t helpless. The kiddie gloves would come off quicker than lightning and then they’d see what was up. 

They’d definitely break you, but you’d do some damage. So there wasn't any rhyme or reason to make you feel safe or calmed. Nothing you could think of except for your own peace of mind. It had a giggle bubbling up, but you clamped down before it could escape. 

You appreciate the sentiment regardless and dragged your energy against his in return, showing your mirth, and if he was apt enough to recognize the instant anxiety their entrance caused, he'd feel the praise underneath.

Taking a deep inhale before steeling yourself. You'd anticipated that it was only a matter of time before a meeting. The high priestess had said it’d come at some point when they felt ready, so you were decidedly not going to freak out and treat them like any other customer. Even if one of them had already made your nipples pebble. 

You were also so ready to end the mystery of what your babysitter looked like. Putting a face to, well not a name, but an energetic signature rather. Stepping down from the ladder you made your way towards the front counter. 

They were milling about between aisle shelving so getting a clear look wasn’t working. You could see bits of hair, flashes of leather, and hear their banter- typical dudes messing with each other. You were right, hearing how affable they were with each other solidified that they def have a legit bond.

Waiting another minute behind that counter still hadn’t made them come to you. Sighing before you decided to speak up, "What can I help you with tonight?" That had the laughter in the back trickle off before a rumbling voice spoke out, "Many things, maybe nothing. Depends on what you're offering." He hadn’t needed to emerge from the aisle for you to feel the leer paired with that statement. Ah, so David was the edgy type. You could work with that. 

What you might stumble over though, was just how pretty they all were.

Don't get it wrong, Vampires were supposed to be attractive, it was part of their thing. A magnetic and alluring shift happened to them all when they were turned, but this? This was on another level. 

The vague memory of lessons from your old covens compendium on vampiric lore came to mind. It’d stated the first vampire came into existence born by way of an incubus mingling in a maenads rites with a medium. Their resulting child the first vampire. 

Who knew how accurate those stories were, the compendium was specific to each coven; an enduring collection of their line of knowledge, but authenticity was always questionable.

Looking at them all as they emerged- really made you believe there was some weighted truth to the legend. Incubus certainly seemed like it was mingled up in them. You’d been gifted by a few incubi once upon a time and the similarities between them and these boys? Striking. Between their movements, their magnetic presences, and the brazen way they gazed at you. 

The vampires in Louisiana were all charming, but it was all a subtle compulsion. It didn’t help that they typically had a bad attitude mixed with antiquated style. They just never appealed to you.

This pack, however, seems like they’d had no problem keeping up with pop culture. Embracing it wholeheartedly, one of them looked like he moonlighted in poison for crying out loud. Maybe they were young, but you got a vibe that hinted otherwise. More like they were adaptable.

Trying to keep a straight face, professionalism and all that, was difficult, but doable. At least you thought it was, but once you locked eyes with a pair of soulful hazel- there was no doubt that they all felt the psychic warble you let slip accidentally. 

He’d been the elusive watcher this week. There wasn’t a question about it, a perfect face to match his auric self. The breath you’d been holding choked out when he broke into an impish grin followed by what was essentially another playful full-body kiss. 

You swore you could hear a purr resound in your mind. The three subordinates chuckled when you drew in a sharp intake. 

“Marko.” David's tenor was soft, but firm. Marko? Cute. Without breaking eye contact, his smile widened mischievously while he raised both hands in surrender. The undivided attention was unsettling in all the right ways. 

Sparking a heat that undulated throughout you. Tabling that information to the back of your mind, you broke the gaze. Needed to if you were going to have any kind of brain function for conversation.

Turning to the de facto leader you sized him up. Or tried to. Definitely threatening, actively making it hard to read him. On the surface he felt like a cold blade; sharp, decisive, piercing. 

Good qualities for a leader you supposed, but like, damn, that didn’t sate your curiosity. If he wasn’t going to work with you then that only left the boring way,  “David, I presume?”

He raised a brow with a pleased look, “Good. The little crone knows who matters around here.” Bo-guuus, edgy with an attitude. Those changelings either lied or were talking about someone different because genial? You weren’t seeing it. Aiming an unimpressed look paired with a, “Mmhmm” brought a chuckle of his own. 

Waiting for him to speak again seemed like the best option, you weren’t very good at small talk, and Marko was still so very distracting. After David’s chiding, he really hadn’t let up much. He might not be doing that lick thing with the delightful heat, but what he was doing wasn’t far off. 

Going out of his way to make sure a large portion of your attention was still focused on him by continually baiting you; almost like energetic petting. If you weren’t trying to have a serious conversation you’d bask in the new attention. You weren’t a cat, but you imagined this is what they must have felt like. Psychic flirting was always fun, but his attention had it quickly becoming your favorite. 

With him doing it in front of his pack though? Any sensible person, witch especially should be uncomfortable. Totally pissed if not outraged- it was definitely a claim, unnervingly possessive, and you shouldn’t like the blatant territorial display, but for some reason, it stroked something deep in your harebrain that majorly worked for you.

Before you could drop down that rabbit hole further David brought you back, “You’ve been a busy little witch this past week.” Annoyance fluttered in, what’d he expect? There hadn’t been a night ritualist for over a year. There was a lot of work to do, some things just couldn’t be done during the day. 

You shrugged “Ha, massive understatement. New coven, new clients, way too many neglected things to catch up on. Seems like you should thank me for taking over.” 

The look he gave you was piercing and indiscernible. You weren’t really sure where you stood with him. You hadn’t done anything to step out of the bounds they’d placed on you, but somehow with the look he was leveling at you begged the question, had you? 

Mentally retracing your week yielded nothing. Hadn’t even tried to hex anyone, even that human who’d cut you off on your drive in Wednesday night, now that’d been difficult. Was this why you’d had such heavy surveillance? Not that you’d minded, but here you thought it was just your shining personality. 

“Keep it up. The community needs a witch with some spine.” Maybe you’d spoke too soon, he might not be so bad. 

“I wasn’t so sure about you. Word on the street and all.” That had you freeze. Not even Marko’s continued attention phased you. There was no way he knew anything. That was impossible. Your new coven didn’t know, your old coven wouldn't dare let anything slip- it wouldn’t just be you who lost face. 

There was no way anyone knew anything about you or why you’d moved. It had to be a bluff, a well aimed taunt. It was common knowledge that witches rarely transferred covens, it happened for a multitude of reasons- good, bad, ugly. He was just being a dickhead, a nosy dickhead. 

Forcing a calm mask even though you were sure they could all hear your rapid heartbeat, trying not to play into his bait, “Oh? Word on the street? I have a rep already? Bitchin’.” 

Anxiety was a mega issue for you, so not having a cow and playing it as chill as you did? A total moment for you. clammy hands, rapid heartbeat, clenched jaw and all. That pulled a laugh out of Marko and the hair band look-alike while David and the clydesdale in the back wore smirks. 

“Word is the new witch isn’t from the clique. Never can tell what you little hags are planning, bringing in new blood?” He leaned forward across the counter catching you with his piercing blues, “That has trouble written all over it.” 

You were slow to process what he’d actually said, too caught up in how the light glinted off his pretty eyes. There was no denying it, so you didn’t try, “For sure,” but on second thought you didn’t want to make it sound like you were here to start shit, “but change isn’t always bad.” 

He tapped the glass of the counter before he pushed off, “We’ll see about that, little hag”. That must have been the signal to leave because he’d started walking towards the door with the silent type in his shadow. 

Marko hadn’t moved, hadn’t dropped his attention and you were nervous to return it. Too likely to get caught up in something now that they were all leaving. You liked it, but it was still like mega nerve-racking. 

Before you could work up the confidence to engage with whatever that was, the taller blonde slapped his shoulder, “I like this chick! She’s got some spunk!” 

He made to push away from the vampire still comfortably leaning against the counter, but something had caught your eye. Without thinking, your hand shot out like a viper to grip his wrist before he could walk any further away, “Wait up!” Marko’s purr, or whatever that buzz he was coating you in suddenly sputtered out.

With everyone’s attention returning, you dropped the skin contact and made your way around the counter. Standing in front of him while quickly giving him a psychic once over. His tallness made it very inconvenient to look for the physical indicator of what you suspected. With a yank to his shoulder you spoke before you really thought how it’d be taken, “Bend down and show me your teeth.”

[kiapet2]

where the two ends meet

The newly-elevated Crown Prince Roman knows two things:

First, that his brother is dead.

And second, that it is his fault.

But when Roman journeys into the witch’s forest on a quest of penitence, he discovers that there is more to the story than he could have known. What he finds there may be his salvation— or his ruin.

Takes place after @whenisitenoughtrees‘s fic thrice for another day. Can also be read on its own.

Pairings: Platonic Creativitwins, Background Intrulogical

Word Count: 4,029

Warnings: death mention, grief/mourning, blood and injury, abusive parents

AO3 Link

Nearly a month after his family buries an empty coffin, the newly-elevated Crown Prince Roman slips out from his castle room and walks alone into the forest.

Unlike past evenings, Roman does not turn into the stretch of woods closest to the castle. At this point, he could likely name every rock and tree and still not find what he’s looking for. Instead, he walks in a straight line, heading deeper and deeper into the woods.

There is said to be a witch at the center of this forest, one who preys on the surrounding villages and whom no man should approach lest he meet his end. Roman had once thought to adventure into the woods to slay such a foul creature, but his intention tonight is far different. He has need of help only a wielder of magic can provide.

And if the venture is to end in his death, so be it.

...

Roman hasn’t been walking for long when he becomes aware of someone following him. The feeling comes and goes— a tingling on the back of his neck, like he’s being watched— but as Roman scans the woods around him, he cannot detect any signs of unusual activity.

The third time he feels the presence, Roman comes to a sudden halt and places a hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Show yourself, whoever you are!” he calls, then scans the trees around him for any sign of a response.

“Why have you entered my woods?” an irritated voice says from somewhere behind him.

Roman whirls around and draws his sword in a single, fluid motion.

The person standing behind him raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. Roman takes the man in: dark hair, a sharp-featured tan face, and piercing dark blue eyes that seem to peer straight to Roman’s core through a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. Despite the man’s simple clothing, Roman knows with a deep certainty that this is the witch.

Ignoring all his instincts, Roman sheaves his sword and holds out his empty hands in a gesture of peace.

“I have been searching for you,” he says. “I have a request to make of you, and am prepared to reward you well.”

“I don’t make a habit of dealing with royalty,” the witch says coldly.

Roman’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Yes, I know who you are, Prince Roman of Thaylar,” the witch says, “and I am surprised you would dare come here, considering your family history. You are either very brave, or very foolish.”

“Both,” Roman says, “but I mean you no harm. If you would hear me out—”

Dark blue energy forms in the witch’s hand. “I have nothing to hear from you, witch-killer. I would advise that you vacate my premises, before I am forced to take action.”

Roman swallows and takes an involuntary step back. Perhaps he should listen to the witch’s warning, abandon this fruitless quest and return to his bed.

It’s not worth it, his father had said after they found Remus’ trail leading to the forest. He couldn’t have gotten far anyways.

Roman straightens his spine and lifts his chin. He owes this to his brother— owes him so much more than this, but it’s the only thing left that Roman can do.

“I only wish to find my brother’s body,” Roman says, “So that I might bury him. Aid me in this and I will ask of you nothing more.”

The witch seems to search Roman’s face for something, his expression unreadable. Then he nods once, sharply.

“That, I can answer easily enough.”

Without another word, the witch turns on his heel and heads off into the forest. Roman hurries to catch up, biting back the urge to question where they are going. The walk lasts far longer than it feels like it should, and Roman suspects the witch is leading him around in circles so he will not be able to tell how to get into his lair. Or how to get out, some part of his mind whispers. He shoves it aside.

Finally, they reach a small clearing with a wooden cottage that looks surprisingly simple and well-kept for a witch’s lair. The witch leads Roman around the back of the house to an herb garden, stopping at a small pile of stones. For a moment Roman wonders what spell the witch intends to cast here; then the shape of the stones registers fully.

A cairn.

“I found him a little ways out from here,” the witch says. “His ribs had broken and pierced his lungs, and he’d been bleeding internally. It was a miracle he managed to make it even that far.”

Roman lowers himself to his knees and hesitantly places a hand on the upturned earth, trying to comprehend that under it is all that remains of his brother. Even now, it feels like all of this is a terrible dream, and one day he’ll wake up and Remus will be alive and driving him crazy again.

“I am sorry for your loss,” the witch says stiffly.

Roman’s chest feels tight, and he swallows past something lodged in his throat.

“He would like being buried here, by the garden,” he chokes out. “He always went on about how everyone becomes food for worms and fungus eventually. If you were to grow your strangest plants over his grave, it would have made him very happy.”

It feels wrong, to speak of his brother in the past tense.

“Might I ask what happened?”

Roman squeezes his eyes shut, holding back the tears that burn at their corners. He doesn’t deserve to cry, not over this.

“I gave him up as a witch,” he whispers. It’s the first time he’s said it out loud, and the words seem to grate and tear at his throat. “He trusted me with his life, and I betrayed him.”

The silence behind Roman is telling.

“Thank you,” Roman rasps, “For putting him to rest.”

He stays there, kneeling in the dirt, long after the witch has returned inside.

...

Remus cries out as he tumbles into the tower room’s wall, jarring harshly against the rough stone.

“Father,” Remus cries, “Father, wait—”

“You are no son of mine!” Father snarls, lifting Remus by the front of his shirt. “Foul demon!”

Roman’s mind screams at him to do something, to run forward and grab Remus or yell at his father to stop but instead he just stands there, frozen in horror, as in one great motion his father shoves Remus through the tower’s window and dangles him out over open air.

Time seems to slow as Father screams curse after curse in Remus’ face, as Remus clutches at the hands holding him above a dizzying drop. Remus’ gaze slides over to meet Roman’s, and for one terrible moment Roman sees in his eyes pure devastation. The agony of betrayal.

And then Father releases his hold, and Remus is gone.

Roman wakes up screaming.

He rolls over onto his side and curls up in a ball, taking harsh, gasping breaths. It takes a moment for him to register that he’s not standing in the castle tower staring in horror at the empty space where his brother used to be— the space that was right there in front of him as if Roman could have reached out and touched him but he was already gone and it was too late—

Breathe.

Roman closes his eyes and listens. In place of the screams that still ring in his head, he hears only the sound of wind swishing through trees. He reaches a hand out and feels loose dirt beneath him. He’s lying on the ground, outside. Roman opens his eyes and sees a dark sky full of stars.

Perhaps Remus is among those stars now. Would he like that? He’d probably think it was boring, to be honest. The thought brings a slight smile to Roman’s face.

Roman sits up, focusing on his breathing. It takes another moment for him to recognize where he is: the witch’s clearing, right by Remus’s... by the grave. It is dark except for the light of the moon— full, a poor omen. Roman had meant to be home by this time as the forest becomes vastly more dangerous at night, but apparently his many nights of lost sleep have finally caught up to him. There’s no use to it now; he’ll just have to wait for the light of dawn to find his way home.

Father will not be happy when Roman returns after dawn has already broken.

Roman has been much less concerned with keeping his father happy, as of late.

No, what bothers him most is why he’s been allowed to stay here at all. Considering the witch’s initial hostility to him, Roman figured admitting to turning in his own brother for using magic would result in being thrown out at best and murdered in his sleep at worst. And yet here he is, sitting in the witch’s clearing un-murdered.

Roman reaches out and touches Remus’s cairn with reverent fingers. He can’t bring himself to regret falling asleep here, dangerous though it may have been. It feels right to have slept beside his brother one last time.

“Well isn’t this sweet! Roro, I didn’t know you cared so much.”

Roman freezes. He knows that voice. But— but that’s impossible—

Roman scrambles to his feet and turns, heart in his throat.

Remus stands before him, illuminated by the light of the moon. He’s clad in the clothes he died in— Roman would know, he sees them in his dreams every night— and there’s a stain of something brown on his shoulder and neckline that Roman doesn’t particularly want to identify.

Roman gapes. “Re, what— how—”

Remus’ smile is bright, but his eyes are cold. “I think you know, Roman.”

Roman feels the blood drain from his face.

They’ve all heard the legends: spirits of magic-users who roam the earth, invested with their magical power and seeking vengeance on those who wronged them. Roman’s father once taught him the proper ways to... dispose of... witches to prevent such a phenomenon from happening. It was Roman’s least favorite lesson by far.

“There it is!” Remus cheers as the comprehension dawns on Roman’s face.

Roman falls to his knees, trembling.

“Remus,” he breathes, “Remus, I—”

He breaks off, lost for words. Roman has thought about what he would say to Remus if he had the chance dozens of times, dreamed up countless scenarios where he prostrated himself and begged for forgiveness or explained himself in a way Remus would understand. Now that he’s actually here, those dreams seem childish and futile in the face of everything that’s happened.

“So funny story,” Remus says, “I’ve thought it over and someone must have told the king about me, right? But I never practiced where anyone could see, and there’s only one person I ever shared my secret with. The person I always shared everything with. Got any idea who that could be, brother?”

Roman’s stomach feels like lead, and he can’t bring himself to look Remus in the eye.

Remus laughs softly. “That’s what I thought.”

His face twists in sudden fury and he shoots forward, getting in Roman’s face and forcing him to flinch back.

“Do you know how it feels, Roman? To have every bone in your body shattered, shards of your own ribs stabbing your insides until you drown in your own blood? Do you know how it feels to lie helpless and dying on the forest floor, knowing your corpse will stay there forgotten, with you replaced without a second thought? How it feels to be betrayed by your own twin, the one person in the world you’d thought you could trust?”

“Stop!” Roman cries, clutching at his head.

“Aw, is baby Roman too sensitive for all that?” Remus croons mockingly, pacing around him. “Do we need to protect his innocent little ears from the icky details of his brother’s brutal murder?”

Tears gather in Roman’s eyes, and he struggles to keep them from falling.

“Remus, I swear, I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“Then what did you want? Why did you do it, Ro? Did you want my throne that much? Or did you just hate witches more than you loved—”

“No!” Roman protests. “No, Remus, I could never hate you!”

“Then why?” Remus says, and the raw pain that fills his voice is so much worse than the anger. “Why did you tell him?”

Roman’s throat is tight and his eyes burn, but he forces the words out anyways. Remus deserves to know.

“Y-you kept hurting yourself. You’d come in bleeding and half-dead from experimenting with your magic and you wouldn’t see a doctor and, and I thought that one day you were going to kill yourself and it would be my fault for not stopping you. I thought if I— if I told Father, h-he would make you stop—”

Remus laughs bitterly. “You thought old daddy dearest, who has scores of magic users killed every year, would what— let me off with a warning?”

Roman flinches. “You’re his son! I didn’t— he was understanding before when I—”

“He was understanding of you,” Remus says. “You are his son. I’m sure he was thrilled at the chance to get rid of me.”

“I’m sorry.” The words force their way out in a whimper, and Roman’s stomach twists at their inadequacy.

“You’re sorry,” Remus says flatly.

Roman’s response catches in his throat, and instead he just bows his head, refusing to defend himself further. Nothing can make up for what he’s done.

Remus laughs suddenly, loud and manic. He snaps his fingers and mutters under his breath, and Roman is lifted into the air, a gentle pressure holding his arms against his sides with far more control than Remus ever had in life.

Remus gives him a vicious grin. “And what if I said ‘sorry’ wasn’t enough? What if I said I was going to have my vengeance, right here and right now?”

Roman’s tears finally overflow, and with them the pain that has been building ever since Remus went out that window.

“Do it,” he sobs. “Kill me.”

“What?” Remus says, sounding startled.

Roman bawls, not the pretty tears of the heroes in his books, but in wracking sobs that tear at his throat and send streams of tears and snot running down his face.

“Please, just kill me. I killed you. I killed you, and I’m so sorry, I’m sorry I killed you.” He cuts off with another sob. “Do whatever you want with me, please, I deserve it. I deserve it.”

The force holding Roman releases and he drops heavily to the ground. He curls up, chest heaving, and waits for the first blow to fall.

But the touch that falls on his arm isn’t painful; it’s soft and warm. It pulls him up and holds him tightly against a chest that is solid, breathing, beating.

Alive.

“I’m not going to kill you, Roman,” Remus says, his voice strangely choked, and Roman can feel it reverberating through his chest. “You’re my brother.”

Roman’s heart feels like it’s going to pound out of his chest. Remus, he’s... he... how did he—

The world spins, and Roman sees a brief flash of Remus’ worried face before everything goes dark.

...

“Roman! Roman, please!” Remus screams. He clutches at Roman’s hands where they grip his shirt, his face a mask of terror as his legs dangle over nothingness.

Roman fights desperately, screaming from deep within his mind, but his body doesn’t move.

“Why, Roman? I’m your brother!” Remus whimpers, tears gathering in his eyes.

Roman hammers at the boundaries of his mind but is helpless to stop it as his hands steadily, inexorably loosen.

Remus screams again as he slips through Roman’s fingers and falls into the darkness.

“Roman!”

“Roman! Roman, wake up!”

Roman jolts awake, his heart pounding as he gasps for breath.

“Ro? Hey, can you hear me?”

Roman blinks blearily and a face fades into focus above him. Worried red eyes, that ghastly mustache, a white streak in his hair...

“Re?” he croaks.

Remus grins. “There we are!”

“Remus,” Roman breathes. He reaches out with one shaking hand to cup Remus’s face and feels warm flesh beneath his fingers. “Are you really here? Or— or am I dead?”

Remus gives him a lopsided smile. “Takes more than getting thrown out of a tower and smashing my bones to smithereens to kill me!”

Roman surges upwards, wrapping his arms around his brother and burying his face in his shoulder.

“Hey, come on,” Remus says as Roman begins to shake, his tears wetting Remus’ shirt. “You’re going to dry yourself up if you keep crying this much. Just shrivel up like a human raisin until you end up a dried-out mummy and someone finds you like a thousand years later and wonders what the hell happened.”

The thought is so gross and ridiculous and Remus that Roman finds himself laughing through his tears.

“Gods above, I missed you.”

Composing himself, Roman pulls back and looks Remus over. He’s wearing simple, weathered clothing, his hair is an absolute mess and there are dark bags under his eyes. He’s the most beautiful thing Roman has ever seen.

“How?” Roman says, his voice cracking with emotion. “I thought you were— that I’d— How are you even here right now?”

“I healed a bit and then dragged myself here,” Remus says. “Logan did the rest.”

Remus looks back over his shoulder with a surprisingly soft smile, and for the first time since waking Roman tears his gaze away from his brother’s face to look at where they are. Roman is sitting on a cot in a simple wooden room, bare except for a small table and worn bookshelves lining one wall. The witch’s house, Roman assumes. The witch himself is standing stiffly a little ways behind Remus, his face transitioning from warm concern to dark displeasure as it moves from Remus to Roman.

“You lied to me,” Roman says. “You knew he was alive all along”.

“Technically, I never spoke a falsehood,” the witch— Logan— says coolly. “I did find Remus with the injuries I described. I merely was able to heal them, if barely.”

“We had to be careful,” Remus says. “I didn’t know, if...”

If Roman felt any real remorse for what he’d done. If he would turn Remus in again, once he found him.

Roman rises from the cot, causing Logan to dart forward in alarm. But Roman just lowers himself to one knee, bowing his head and placing a hand over his heart.

“I swear to you on my life, I never meant to harm you in any way,” Roman says. “I have regretted what I've done every day, every moment, since we parted.”

“Yeah, I got that from the whole bursting-into-tears-and-telling-me-to-kill-you thing,” Remus says. “Which was dramatic even for you, by the way.”

“People will often show their true selves during states of heightened emotion,” Logan says, adjusting his glasses. “The ruse was a logical course of action to discern your intentions.”

“And also fun!” Remus says. “You should have seen your face, Ro, it was so white! I make a pretty scary ghost.”

“You were terrifying,” Roman says honestly, which makes Remus beam.

Still on one knee, Roman turns to address Logan. “And thank you, my good witch, for saving his life. I am forever in your debt.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” Logan says sharply. That and his icy glare make it quite clear that he is not as forgiving as Remus. Roman winces internally; this whole debacle is not the best first impression to make to a sibling’s lover.

And that’s what Logan is, or at least what Remus wants him to be— it’s written all over his brother’s face. Before... before, Roman would have teased Remus about it, and then Remus would probably have made some sort of lewd comment that would make Roman sputter and shove at him. They’re not quite at that point now, he thinks. Not yet.

Roman inclines his head to the witch. “You have my gratitude all the same.”

“Look at us, all making up and being friends!” Remus cheers, but Roman knows him well enough to see the lingering discomfort in the slant of his shoulders and curve of his smile. Remus isn’t as okay as he’s pretending to be.

Roman rises and clasps Remus’ hand in his own.

“Remus, I have done you a grave disservice. While I cannot take back the pain I have caused you, I can offer you back the crown. If you wish it, I will give you my blade and the clothes off my back so that you may return to the castle in my stead and reclaim your birthright under my name.”

Remus stares at him for a moment, then throws back his head and cackles. Something deep in Roman’s chest loosens at the sound; he hadn’t realized how much he missed Remus’ laugh.

“Like hell am I going back to that burning trash heap!” Remus says. “Look, getting thrown out a window sucked major ass, but finding this—” he gestures to the house around him— “is probably the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Behind Remus, Logan’s face turns bright red. Well that answers that, then.

Remus takes Roman’s other hand, meeting his eyes. “If you really want to make this up to me, go back. Become king. And change things.”

Roman bows his head once more. “I do not deserve this second chance, brother,” he whispers.

His hands tighten on Remus’s and he meets his twin’s gaze again, determined. “But I will do as you ask. I swear it, with every inch of my being: I will make things right.”

Remus shouldn’t trust Roman with something this important, not after Roman made it so clear what his word is worth. And yet, Remus nods as if satisfied and steps back.

“It is past sunrise,” Logan says. “I will not have you drawing search parties into this forest when the castle discovers you are gone.”

“I’d best be off then,” Roman says, knowing a dismissal when he hears one.

“I’ll walk you back!” Remus says.

“Absolutely not,” Logan snaps. “I will not allow you to walk that sort of distance while you are still on the mend.”

“It’s been a month!”

“And you were bedridden for weeks!”

“Logan can show me out,” Roman says firmly. “The last thing I want is you hurting yourself more over me.”

Remus’ eyes go watery. “But we just found each other again.”

Roman pulls him into another hug. “I will return, as long as you will have me.”

Remus nods into Roman’s shoulder, tightening his arms around him. They stay like that for a few moments more before they reluctantly part.

“Right, then,” Roman says. “Goodbye, for now.”

“Goodbye,” Remus says, unusually subdued.

Logan shows Roman to the door, and together they begin to walk across the clearing to the trees.

“You should know,” Logan says, “that if you break his trust again or hurt him in any way, all the guards in the castle will not be enough to stop me from killing you.”

Roman laughs heartily at that.

“I knew I liked you, Specs!” he says, slapping Logan on the back. “I’m glad Remus has someone like you looking out for him.”

Logan blinks. “Right, then. Good.”

“Wait!”

Roman looks back to see Remus standing in the house’s doorway. He looks... concerned?

“I know it’s going to take some time to be okay with what happened,” Remus says, “For both of us. But you weren’t the person who threw me off that tower. The king was. Just... remember that, okay? Remember that and come back.”

Roman nods mutedly, and the door closes.

“Right,” he says, clearing a mysterious obstruction from his throat, “let’s go then.”

With that, Roman turns and walks into the woods, headed back to the castle. Back to the duty he promised Remus he would fulfill.

And this promise, Roman intends to keep.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 05

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: age gap, wounds

A/N: another day, another chapter. thank you guys so so much for the support, i am so glad you’re enjoying the story. much love xx

NEXT CHAPTER

Bucky’s free days weren’t something that would look good on a movie. He enjoyed being outside, away from everything. Headphones on, hat on, no one really looks at him, no one cares. Bucky learned that a long long time ago; people don’t care. He is thankful for that, he is thankful for the bleak reality where the Winter Soldier can walk the streets of New York without calling much attention to him. Sure, he has to cover his arm and hand but that’s the worse of it. Other than that, he’s free to roam the streets until twilight, headphones on, not a single thought on his mind. It’s almost as if he can escape his body. 

He kept walking down the street, eyes roaming the crowd. He didn’t know why he constantly looked through the crowd, maybe he was scared but that was something he didn’t want to delve in. He grabbed his phone off his back pocket once it rang, not expecting the sender’s name. Y/N. The text was vague, mostly asking him she needed his help and as such he changed ways on his walk, instead going to SoHo, to her flat.

Various reasons as to why she was asking for help ran through his mind. She could’ve been burgled, hurt, someone could be trying to hurt her and suddenly the walk turned into a run. Her flat wasn’t too far away from where he lived, you could reach it in a mere 20 minute slow walk yet 20 minutes seemed like an eternity. 

He reached his apartment as fast as thunder, opting for the stairs believing it would be faster if he climbed them up. The hallway was silent, he could hear his heart beat as he put his hand on the handle of her entry door, too his surprise it was open. What if she’s getting mugged? He got into position to bring down whatever threat awaited him under the door. Instead, he found the actress of her knees surrounded by various sizes of broken glass, trying to pick them all up with her bare hands while hiccuping. 

     - Y/N? - Y/N turned around, noticing Bucky standing in front of her door. Her clenched hands opened, glass rolling to the ground. - What happened?

     - I dropped the vase. - she sighed, forcing a smile which he could see through. He walked up to her, extending his hand to her. - It’s fine, Bucky.

     - Come on. - she settled her hand on top of his and he flexed his arm, helping her up. His eyes moved to her knees where some pieces of glass had lodged themselves, some merely glued by sweat and others bleeding streams down her leg, her hands too were stabbed with little pieces of glass from trying to gather it all up. Still, she moved her heel, trying to assemble the glass all in one spot. - Do you have any first aid kit?

     - There is one in the bathroom. - she pointed down the hall. She remembered Miss Olson telling her where it was in case there was any wounds, wounds which certainly weren’t acceptable considering she would have to be in short outfits the whole time during the shot. With that in mind, she looked down to see small streams of scarlet coloured blood rushing down her legs. Oh no. 

Bucky, on the other hand, was more interested in getting her proper first aid for the wounds on her knees and hands. As they reached the bathroom door, he opened it using his elbow. It was a rather small bathroom for such a big apartment, he thought to himself, could barely fit the two of them without them having to be glued together. In an effort to get some space, Bucky wrapped his hands around her waist, upboosting her in the air before sitting her in the marbled sink. Y/N could feel her whole being fire up as his hands made contact with her fabric covered skin, looking the other way hoping the cold air coming from the open door would sooth her. Once she looked back at him, he had his arms up, raising to grab the first aid red box standing just above her mirror. Her eyes darted to the muscle in his flesh arm, wondered at how his metal appendage seemed a perfect reflection of it. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so invested in the marvellous work that was his metal arm as when he returned with the box, their eyes locked in a manner that was definitely uncomfortable for both of them.  It was her who broke it, looking at the bathtub to her right but Bucky was still very much inspecting her; her decoultage on display from the low cut of the dress, collarbones poking through the skin as her chest went up and down. It crossed his mind that the Winter Soldier would easily kill her if he wanted. At that thought he seemed to snap of whatever daze he was in, opening the small and unwell equipped first aid box in his hands.

    - I’m gonna take the glass with some tweezers first. Is that okay? - Y/N nodded as he leaned down, putting himself on his knees so he could extract whatever bits of glass had embedded themselves with her skin. Luckily for her, she only had a few that would need to be removed as the others were merely stuck on due to the sweat covering her legs. His hand went behind her calf, slowly rising it up before starting to pull glass off her knee.

It didn’t hurt, the glass it is. There were plenty of things that were hurting at that precise moment but the glass wasn’t one of them. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help it but look down at him, brow furrowed as he concentrated his task and cold hand propping her leg up. She wanted to apologise, she wanted to apologise but she didn’t know what for. Maybe she would apologise for her phone sending the message later than she intended, maybe she would apologise for destroying his day. She didn’t know about what she should apologise but she needed to apologise. Lost in her mind, she didn’t notice he had already finished extracting shards from her knees until he rubbed a wet towel on her leg, getting rid of little stuck on shards and blood which was starting to dry. As if she would break at any harsh movement, Bucky slowly let her leg return to its natural position, slightly turning around to grab an antiseptic bottle and some colourful cotton balls Y/N keep on an acrylic display atop of her skin. With those in hand, he dripped some liquid onto the cotton before returning to tend to her knees, spreading the antiseptic and then wrapping both her knees in gauze.

    - Let me look at your hands. - he got back on his feet. Y/N extended her hands towards him, a weird feeling of shame coursing through her. Luckily for her, there wasn’t much damage to her hands; a cut here and there but that was the worst of it. Just like for her knees, he got rid of extra glass and cleaned the wound before wrapping her hands with the same type of gauze as her knees. -  You don’t have any deep cuts so you’re lucky you can take that off tomorrow.

    - Thank you, Bucky. - she wanted to look him in the eye, she really did, but his fingers on her palm had her unable to take her eyes off her own palm. - I’m sorry for ruining your day off. The message was supposed to have been sent earlier, it bounced off and I guessed it must’ve sent once I got some signal.

    - Why? Was there something wrong? - he helped her from the sink, leading her off the bathroom so they could hopefully have more space.

    - It’s really nothing, I just … It’s nothing. - she sighed, forced smile on her lips which Bucky could clearly read through. - I’m sorry.

    - You’ve apologised two times in the space of a minute. Trust me, you don’t need to apologise for people doing their job.

    - But it’s your day off.

    - I don’t have days off, Y/N.

It was true, he didn’t have days off. He knew what people, what Steve, what people in the Avengers considered a day off. It was a day when all worries were gone and they could do what they loved without the stress and weight of daily life. Bucky didn’t have days off. His demons followed him, shackled to his ankle, not allowing him to forget, to sleep. He merely had days in which he wasn’t bothered by work, not that it bothered him. In all honesty, he’d rather be working, at least he could avoid his mind, run from it. He doesn’t need his consciousness when he’s working. Y/N didn’t know how to reply to his answer, there was bitter sweetness attached to it, a bitter sweetness she was unsure he wanted to share and as such she decided to change the subject.

    - I should sweep the floor. - she scratched the back of her neck, readying herself to grab a vroom but Bucky stopped her. 

    - You should sit down before you get hurt. - he suggested, pulling one of the kitchen’s highchairs so she could sit. - I can clean that up for you. 

    - Are you trying to get hired as a housemaid, Bucky? - Y/N joked, little child-like smile gracing her lips as Bucky held the vroom in both hands. Even him couldn’t help but smile at her joke. 

    - If you keep throwing jars, I think you might just need one. – he pushed the glass onto the the dustpan, opening the bin and throwing it all inside. 

    - How do you know I threw it? 

    - The pattern of glass on the ground was consistent with it. - he shrugged. - Were you trying to defend yourself? 

     - Sort of. - she sighed, looking at the bandages on her hands. - I will spare you the story.

      - Might help if you don’t.

Y/N felt ridiculous. Here she was upset over an industry she had willingly entered when a man who had his life stolen away from him was sitting next to her. You’re ridiculous, she told herself. He didn’t have a choice, he didn’t get to choose but she got to choose moving to NY, joining this industry. Just because the yellow brick road didn’t lead somewhere doesn’t mean it was any less her choice. He was forced to kill people against his will, you just need to lose weight, she told herself once again.

     - It’s silly. - she smiled the worried look in her face away. - I just miss home. This apartment doesn’t really feel like home, everything here was bought for me. I didn’t get to pick my cutlery even.

     - Then decorate it the way you want.

     - I can’t do that. 

     - What’s stopping you? - he furrowed his brow at her and Y/N opened her mouth to say something before closing it again. - It’s your apartment, Y/N. 

     - What do you suggest? Going to IKEA and buy stuff that I already have? 

     - Okay. - Bucky got up from his seat walking over to her cupboard. Y/N watched curiously as he opened the cupboard and grabbed one of her mugs before throwing it to the ground, breaking it into million pieces. - Look at that, you need a new mug.

She smiled at him, jumping over from where she was standing. Walking over to him, Y/N reached into her cupboard, grabbing a stack of plates before walking over to her window. Unceremoniously, she opened the window and let the plates fall of her 5th floor onto the ground, watching as they all broke into a million pieces onto the sidewalk. Bucky followed through with whatever contents she had left in her porcelain and soon enough, the two of them had thrown glasses, bowls, cups and jars of flowers off the window, forming a pile of shattered glass.

      - Thank you, Bucky. - she smiled at the shatters of the ground floor before looking up to him. 

     - It’s no problem. 

     - No, this definitely wasn’t part of your contract. - Bucky watched as the late afternoon wind blew her hair ever so slightly, goosebumps on her skin from the change of temperature. There was this weird sensation, a sensation only the Winter Soldier had felt and Bucky couldn’t remember, one that was the same yet a foil of the one he used to feel. He couldn’t really explain what it felt, he could just feel it. - Could you not tell Ms. Olson I messaged you?

     - Whatever happens between me and you isn’t broadcast to anyone else. My loyalty lies with the person I was contracted to protect.

     - Thank you. - she pushed the window down closed. - Do you wanna get dinner? It’s on me. 

     - I think you need to get dinner we just broke all of your plates.

Bucky and Y/N went to a small burger joint near her apartment. Y/N adored it, it reminded her of home, it reminded her of when she came back from the pub with her friends and went to whatever was opened to get chips with melted mozzarella on top. Even the scent of it brought her back home and while she had never experienced the drunk taste of chips with melted cheese, she surely enjoyed eating them at unholy hours of the evening.

     - Why would you put cheese on fries? - Bucky questioned as the employee handed her two cartoons of chips with cheese. - You put ketchup on fries.

     - Don’t knock it until you try it. 

     - I’m too old to try new things. 

     - Oh, I noticed. Only old people whine that much. 

The two of them sat down in a red booth, picks in hands as they ate the chips which Bucky found weirdly satisfying. Sure, he wasn’t gonna tell her that but she was right, it was an godly satisfying favour. Mid meal he looked up at Y/N, she had a little mindless smile on her face as she ate her fries, hair slightly in front of her eyes. It was rather ironic, one caged bird staring at another caged bird but here’s the thing about cages: they don’t last very long. 

taglist: @disasterbii @lookiamtrying @buckysteveloki-me @nsfwsebbie @americasass81 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @lostinthebeans @mariahthelioness29 @buckyandsebastian @peaches-roses-sins @theadorasabditory @sipsteacasually @tonystankschild @saiyanprincessswanie @booktease21 @noiralei @learisa @everythingisoverrated @uglipotata72829 @naturalthrone22 @husherstan @mandiiblanche @vicmc624 @newyorkgoddess @itsallyscorner @chipilerendi @emzd34 @writerwrites​ 

[amenomiko]

Aaaaaa Thank You so much for the looooooooooooong wait! I was too occupied and writer's block makes me tired more than ever 😭. Thank you so much for the request @ashavazesa ❤❤❤❤❤

A/N: I don't really take ALL Southeast Asia countries in this as I'm not really familiar with it. If you have questions regarding the culture, you may PM me or comment here ❤. Or you may google it, especially Butod 😏.

Lords x Southeast Asia Culture

Nobunaga - Hungry Ghost Festival (Malaysia / Singapore)

-It is a festival to honor the dead and so the gate from hell is opened.

-Mitsuhide: Most probably when the gate from hell is open, there will be Hideyoshi, practically running here and there upon his arrival ( ͡^ ͜ʖ ͡^).

-Masamune: Exactly. With the red carpet and rose petals. Heh.

-Hideyoshi: ಠ_ಠ.... Still- Nobunaga-sama's presence itself is majestic, so I have to agree with both of you *cough*

-Mitsunari: But I don't understand.. Hideyoshi-sama is kind, why would he be in hell (´；д；`)?

-Hideyoshi: Now, now, Mitsunari. Not everyone will go to heaven easily.

-Mitsuhide: Indeed. One of the main reasons why he goes to hell is because he sister-zoned every maiden in the world.

-Hideyoshi: H E Y (　☉д⊙)!

-Back to Nobunaga: I demand my offering to be a pack of armies, thousands of konpeitos, and MC's candid pictures 😏😏😏😏.

-Shingen: How indecent. To hell with you 😒.

-Kennyo: Go somewhere else, don't take my place 😒.

-Nobunaga: Excuse me? Hell would not be yours as I am the Demon King

-Kennyo: Excuse you 😒. My sin is bigger than yours.

-MC: Is it me or is this a White Girls Sengoku Version ಠ_ಠ?

-Ieyasu: ...Why would anyone want to fight over hell in the first place =_=?

Hideyoshi - Everyone is Addressed as Boss / Uncle / Aunty (Malaysia)

-So he went to a restaurant..

-"Boss. What do you want to order?"

-He look left. And right.

-"Eh Boss. You want to order or not?"

-"Huh? M-me??"

-Then he went to a public place, and his wallet fell from his pocket,

-"Uncle. Excuse me."

-Uncle-- WHAT- He is not THAT OLD-- "Wh- Wha??"

-"Aiya Uncle. Your wallet. Later people take your money how?"

-"Uh--" What kind of language is that anyway??

-Sasuke: If you are wondering what kind of language they speak, it is called as 'Manglish', Hideyoshi-san.

-Hideyoshi: Ma- Ma what?

-Sasuke: Manglish. Malaysian + English casual ways of talking to someone.

-Random person: Eh Boss, excuse me. Do you want to enter or not? If not please move lah! You are blocking the door!

-Hideyoshi: ........*Stressed 101*

Masamune - Butod (Sago Grub) (Malaysia - Sabah)

-Le butod: *Wiggle wiggle wiggle* OwO

-And MC: *FAINTS*

-"So this is a.. Grub from sago tree, you say? And it is recommended to be eaten raw."

-"It looks like MC when she was struggling to get away from my grip when I try to kiss her."

-MC, who has fainted, woke up "Excuse me?? Are you saying that I am-"

-Butod: *Wiggle Wiggle on Masamune's Palm* OwO

-MC: *gasssppp* 😱😱😱😱 YOU..! DON'T TOUCH ME WITH THAT HAND TONIGHT ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥A˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚!

-Masamune: Eeeeh but why? *Pulls its head and eat it raw* Hmm.. Taste like chicken.

-MC: .....*Takes a bottle of sake and shove it into his mouth* Wash it down with this! WASH IT WITH T H I S!

-Masamune: MMMMF 😵😵😵😵!!

Mitsuhide - Chinese New Year Celebrations (Malaysia / Singapore)

-He was offered with lots of CNY treats and of course, he ate it without refusing it.

-Only to get the bewildered reactions from the people around him when he mixed the rice + fish + dumplings + sweet rice balls + spring rolls + glutinous rice cake in one bowl and eat it like nobody's business.

-Hideyoshi: Even if you can't taste it, don't eat it in that way (　☉д⊙)!!

-"Why Hideyoshi? This foods represents luck, you see. I need this luck so I can always escape from your endless 'love' ( ͡^ ͜ʖ ͡^)."

-Learned about Ang Pow.

-"So you will give away money if you are married, and will receive it if you are not married. I see..."

-MC: What's wrong, Mitsuhide?

-"Hmm? Oh, I was just concerned about Hideyoshi. Because he will give away Ang Pows throughout his life." *Shakes his head* "That's what he gets when he sister-zoned everyone."

-Hideyoshi: ʕʘ̅͜ʘ̅ʔ.....

Ieyasu - Sambal (Hot Relish made with veggies / fruits and spices) (Indonesia)

-At first he was skeptical.

-Until he put some in his dish.

-Cues Ieyasu hugging the Sambal Jar.

-Growls when Masamune said "Can I have a look what they put inside-- Hey, hey, I said I want to have a look, not that I will eat it, lad. Calm down."

-Nobunaga, the usual demon on your shoulder: It's that precious, hmm? So you'd rather choose that than MC?

-MC: Please don't make me an option between food, Nobunaga ಠ_ಠ.

-Mitsuhide: Or maybe.. You can eat her by pouring all over her ( ͡^ ͜ʖ ͡^)?

-MC: I will become a living swollen red bell pepper, no thanks (눈‸눈).

Mitsunari - Vietnam and the amount of motorcyclists on the road (Vietnam)

-The gangs be all flustered with their surroundings, especially Hideyoshi.

-"Stay close, all of you! It's dangerous!"

-Masamune & Mitsuhide: Yes mom ( ͡^ ͜ʖ ͡^)~

-Hideyoshi: Who is your MOM (　☉д⊙)??

-Sasuke: It's alright, they say you can cross it casually as they will automatically avoid you.

-Hideyoshi: Impossible, isn't it dangerous? Besides, it's too close one after another!

-Sasuke: Here, let me give you an example. *Gives Mitsunari a book and whispered "You may cross now."*

-Our pure angel be like "O3O ooooh~~" And there he goes, walking straight ahead, with head buried in a book.

-Meanwhile, Hideyoshi: *Were pulled by both Masa and Mitsuhide* GAHH LET GO OF ME! MITSUNARIIIII \(Q A Q)/!!!! *GASP* NOOO NOBUNAGA-SAMA DON'T CROSS THE ROAD WHILE EATING YOUR KONPEITOOO!!!

-And Ieyasu, who has been watching Mitsunari who crossed the road safely to the other side: TCH. There's no one that hit him (•ˋ _ ˊ•).

Kenshin: 5 People on one Motorcycle (Indonesia)

-The first thing that he ask Sasuke was...

-"What is that?"

-Sasuke: Oh, as you can see, Kenshin-sama. Some people from a poor family will ride their motorcycle altogether as one. And so,.. Kenshin-sama?

-"Bringing the motorcycle back to the past would cause unnecessary scene, but an idea of 5 people in one ride is not bad. Hm."

-"Imagine, when you go to the battlefield, with 5 people in one horse, you can kill 5 people at one time."

-"Also, if they bring sake supplies, and 1 person hold one sake each, and there's 10 horses, I would've get 500 bottles in an hour."

-Them: ........

-Sasuke: Can't do, Kenshin-sama. Please pity our horse and if you work here, in this era, please don't be a math teacher. You will give a bad example in your class.

-Kenshin: Don't stop what I want to do, Sasuke (눈‸눈). Fine. Let's change that 5 person into me, and the killed people to Shingen instead. So it will be 5 of me, killing Shingen in one strike.

-Shingen: Psssh. If I were you, there will be 5 of me on one horse, so all of us can kiss MC in one go 😏✨✨✨.

-Yukimura: PLEASE STOP GAH MY BRAIN @A@

Shingen - Thailands... and their Kathoey (Thailand)

-Welp. His eyebrows wouldn't stop wiggling here and there to every pretty woman that he spotted.

-'Woman'. Heh.

-Sasuke about to warn him but Kenshin hold him back.

-"Let's teach him a lesson." He said. "It will be interesting." He said.

-And so they go to one place for dinner, when they were surrounded by a bunch of pretty women.

-"Hey handsome~~ wanna have fun with us?"

-Yukimura: Eh- uh- eh- I- I- o//////o

-"Oh come on~~~ *grope*"

-Yukimura: *Genuine Girlish Voice* KYAAAAAAAAA!!! *Fainted with foams*

-Shingen: Now, now, you girls are pretty attempting, but we need to fill our empty stomachs first, you see?

-He was occupied in talking to the girls when Sasuke whispered something to one of them without him realizing it. Then the girl went to Shingen's side, hugging his arm, "Please~ have fun with us~~ I will give you a reward if you say 'Yes'~"

-Shingen, playing along: Oooh? What would that be?

-Le girl, changing her voice into a manly one, "A lick of my lollipop, bro."

-And he fainted next to Yukimura. With foams in his mouth too.

Yukimura - Bali and their.... 'Souvenirs' (Indonesia)

-The first thing that came out from his mouth when he arrived at Bali is "Wh- wh- wh- r-romantic island?? Wh- who would show their intimacy in public--"

-*Shriek to a statue with a peculiar s*x position*

-*Shriek to almost everything*

-*Got stuck in one place until Sasuke had to pulled him out from the shop*

-Sasuke: Forgive me, bro. It's Shingen-sama's idea to enter this shop. It's normal for you to be culture shocked as one of their famous souvenirs is wee wee keychains (´・д・｀).

-"Don't say that casually OAO!"

-MC, takes one wee wee display and called out for him, "Yukimura~ come here for a sec. Look! Your wee wee (✿❛◡❛)!"

-"MMMMMCCCCCC ୧( ಠ////Д////ಠ )୨!!!!"

-Also Yukimura: *Gasp* This shop sells your kind! *Points at the restaurant that displays Rolling Pig*

-Scene of Yukimura got slapped by MC unfolds.

Sasuke - Sarawak's Blowpipe (Malaysia - Sarawak)

-Tour guide: One of the ethnicities in Sarawak is Iban people. They are known to hunt their prey with a blowpipe, which contained with a poison-coated needle.

-Sasuke: Oooh. *looks at the blowpipe* It's like detective conan but a poisoned needle ones (´・д・｀)✨✨✨

-Tour guide:

-Others:

-Tour guide: Would you like to give a try?

-Sasuke: Yes please (´・д・｀)✨✨✨ which target should I shoot it with?

-Tour guide: The balloon, next to the pole in front of you ☺.

-Sasuke: Okay. *Takes a deep breath*

-Kenshin:.......*monotonous voice* Ah, a mosquito. *Kicks Shingen to make him land in front of Sasuke*

-Shingen: H-Hey-- OAO

-Sasuke: Mmf- *Instantly pushed the pipe to shoot something else*

-*Stab*

-Mitsunari who happens to pass by: Hmm? Oh my, I don't remember this book has a needle attached to it (ㆁᴗㆁ✿).

-Other tour members: EEEEEKKKK 😱😱😱

-Ieyasu who also happens to be not to far from the group: Tch. Books from the future must not to be underestimated ಠ_ಠ. It's too thick.

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Lepidopterophobia

Shinobu Kochou x Fem Reader

A/N: Heyyyyy its been awhile! As far as warnings go, there will be some swearing and butterflies and that’s it as far as I can tell. Bye!

The Butterfly Estate. A beautiful place of refuge for injured demon slayers to rest in the care of the gentle and skilled Hashira Shinobu Kochou, and her attendants. Or as (Y/n) liked to call it, the house of nightmares. (Y/n) feared butterflies immensely. It was something that she would never openly admit. After all, who slays demons with no problem but screams and jumps away from the fluttering of fragile wings? She got enough teasing during her childhood, thank you very much. So, she never told anyone and that would have been fine, it’s not like the information would ever have an opportunity to be brought into conversation. Well, unless you forgot about the large estate that literally had the word “butterfly” in its name that was supposed to be a safe haven for demon slayers like her. (Y/n) was very careful. The last thing she wanted was to be injured and sent off to the Butterfly Estate to heal. She was lucky enough to find plenty of wisteria houses in the event that rest and healing were needed. At least, she was lucky until tonight.

“Aughhh, damn it!” (Y/n) cursed, sucking a sharp breath through her clenched teeth. She glared at the demon as its body crumbled away and she leaned her own battered body on the trunk of a tree. Her hand shook as she pulled it off of her side, gazing at the blood that painted her palm. (Y/n) had managed to behead the demon, but not before it shot off an attack of its own. (Y/n) craned her head up to the sky and saw her raven circling above, cawing loudly and clearly distressed. “Mochi!” (Y/n) hissed, not nearly loud enough for the bird to hear from that height, “Mochi, I’ll be fine! We just need to find a wisteria house...” (Y/n) grunted as she pushed off of the tree trunk she was resting on and staggered forward. She took off her haori and tied it tightly over her waist to slow the bleeding. “Help! Help!” Mochi cried, the bird was too panicked and high up to be reasoned with, but as the raven continued to circle (Y/n) felt a sense of dread pool in her stomach. Her raven was definitely calling for any Kakushi in the surrounding area to come to her aid. (Y/n) quickly jerked her head toward the sound of approaching footfalls and clumsily attempted to hide herself from view. “There she is!” “Hey, don’t worry we’re here to help!” “Shit,” (Y/n) muttered under her breath, leaning back against another tree and turning to face the two Kakushi that were approaching her. She forced a smile, “Oh, hey, thanks for coming, but I’m fine, really. My raven tends to blow things out of proportion, it’s really not that bad an injury.” “Doesn’t look like that to me,” One of the Kakushi answered gruffly. “Ow!” The other one elbowed him in the ribs and approached (Y/n) with concerned eyes peeking through their uniform. “Even so, we are more than happy to guide you to safety. The night is still young, more demons could come.” “That’s fair,” (Y/n) huffed once it was clear they were not going to leave. “I could use help getting to the nearest wisteria house.” “A wisteria house? There isn’t one for many kilometers,” the more gentle of the Kakushi informed. “Damn, where can we go then?” “Don’t you know where you are?” The Kakushi asked, eyes twinkling. “You don’t even realize how fortunate you are my friend! We’re not too far from the Butterfly Estate, much better than any old wisteria house in my humble opinion.” A cloud of darkness swirled over (Y/n)’s face. One would presume from blood loss, but being privy to (Y/n)’s fear, one would quickly know that blood loss wasn’t the cause. “Come on, lean on us, we’ll get you there in no time,” the other Kakushi spoke, closing in. “No, no, no, that won’t be necessary,” (Y/n) weakly waved her hands. “I’m, uh, I really rather go to a wisteria house.” “What? Don’t be ridiculous, you’d never make it in this state. You’re wasting time,” The more grumpy Kakushi said, grabbing her forearm. “Be gentle!” The other Kakushi chided, grabbing (Y/n)’s other arm and swinging it over their neck. (Y/n) began to panic in earnest now, dropping her previous act to struggle against the two Kakushi at her sides. “No! Please, don’t take me there! Anywhere but there!” “What the hell, lady!?” The grumpy Kakushi yelled as (Y/n) elbowed him in the gut. “Please stop struggling, we’re here to help you!” The other added, tightening their grip. “Help! Help!” Mochi yelled, dive-bombing their heads. It was all just absolute chaos. “Enough already!” Grumpy Kakushi swiftly chopped at the back of (Y/n)’s neck, causing the girl to fall unconscious and slump forward. “Oh my gods, why did you do that?” Gentle Kakushi scolded, adjusting their hold on (Y/n) so she wouldn’t slip to the forest floor. “She was being difficult and she’s lost a lot of blood. We need to get her to Kochou-sama quickly,” Grumpy Kakushi huffed, heaving (Y/n)’s other arm over his shoulder. They sprinted through the woods with practiced ease, eventually approaching the wisteria grove that guarded the estate like a natural barrier. They brushed passed the beautiful blooms and rushed to the infirmary. “New case!” The gentle Kakushi called as they burst into the infirmary. “Place her in that cot and I’ll asses the damage,” Shinobu called from the opposite side of the room as she finished changing the bandages of another patient. The two Kakushi heaved the unconscious girl onto the cot and Shinobu came over and observed the girl with a trained eye. “Unresponsive, this must be serious,” Shinobu frowned. “Well, you can thank him for that,” the gentle Kakushi poked. “He knocked her out!” “She didn’t give me much of a choice! She was adamant that we not bring her here. She was making it impossible,” Grumpy Kakushi explained. “Really? How peculiar,” Shinobu hummed. “I wonder why she would be so averse to coming here...” Shinobu would be lying if she said she wasn’t just a tad offended by this information. Nevertheless she thanked the Kakushi and dismissed them from the premises. She removed the blood soaked haori and the upper half of (Y/n)’s uniform the properly observe the wound. The bleeding had mostly stopped, but the gash was rather nasty. Shinobu dabbed over the wound with antiseptic and washed away the blood with water. She then stitched up the wound with practiced ease and covered the area with gauze to protect it. Once that was done, Shinobu raised a thin sheet over (Y/n)’s body to cover her bare torso. With one last check of the girl’s vitals, she left her side and continued her rounds. *** (Y/n) groaned as she awoke the next morning. She rubbed her eyes and tried to sit up, only to fall back against the cot and gingerly grip her sore side and stomach. She took a moment to assess the damage and cringed at the old gauze rolled over her wound. Then she realized she was shirtless and pulled the thin sheet tightly over herself as she tentatively looked about the room. She was in an infirmary, that much she could tell. There were only two other patients in the room and both appeared to be in worse shape than herself if the missing limbs, thick bandages, casts and IVs meant anything. “Oh good, you’re awake. I was just coming to change your gauze.” (Y/n) startled slightly and turned to put a face to the soft voice that was addressing her. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes roamed over the face of the woman beside her. Gods, she was beautiful. (Y/n)’s eyes caught the purple tint of the woman’s hair and followed the pleasant color upward and took in a sharp breath through her nose and shuffled away before she realized that what was pinning the woman’s hair back was an accessory, and not an actual giant butterfly. Still the damage was done, and the woman gave her a puzzled look. (Y/n) assumed that, along with the audible in take of air and the sad distancing attempt, she had also had a stupidly fearful or shocked look on her face. “No need to be frightened, you’re safe here. I would never dream of hurting you in any way,” the woman spoke gently as she approached the side of (Y/n)’s cot, misreading (Y/n)’s momentary fear of her hair pin as fear directed at her. “I’m Shinobu Kochou, the Insect Pillar. You are in my home, the Butterfly Estate, recovering from a mission.” Fuuuuuuuuuck (Y/n) looked around the room nervously. So those Kakushi had managed to drag her to the Butterfly Estate and it wasn’t all just a bad dream. That would explain the hair pin. Not only that, but she was in the presence of the Insect Hashira herself and- oh, a Hashira! “It’s an honor to meet you Kochou-sama!” (Y/n) spluttered out, bowing her head as best she could lying down as a sign of respect. Shinobu laughed and the sound hit (Y/n)’s ears pleasantly and she shivered as an unexpected heat rose to her neck and cheeks. “It’s alright, no need to be so formal. You are here to recover after all,” Shinobu smiled. “Speaking of which, would you mind letting me check your wound?” “Oh, um, sure,” (Y/n) awkwardly shifted the sheet to cover her chest and left side, causing Shinobu’s smile to look a bit more sympathetic. “Sorry, can you drop the sheet, please? The shadows it’s casting is making it hard to see what I’m doing,” her smile quirked up a bit on one side. “I promise to be nothing but respectful and professional.” (Y/n) felt her cheeks begin to sting as they were positively on fire. She averted her eyes and dropped the sheet, allowing Shinobu to remove the dressing and check the sore skin tissue that started a bit above her navel and curved upward near her bottommost rib. “So, what’s your name?” (Y/n) almost forgot to answer, she was too busy focusing on the feather light fingers as they applied some kind of salve to her wound. “I’m (Y/n).” “Well, it’s nice to meet you, (Y/n). Have you been a slayer long? How are you adjusting?” Shinobu asked, closing the jar of salve and reached for the gauze. “I’d say I’m doing pretty well, I’ve been at it for almost four years now. I just reached Kinoto rank two weeks ago. So minus that last fight, yeah, I think I’m doing okay,” (Y/n) answered, a small yet proud smile formed over her lips. “You’ve been in the corps for almost four years and I’ve never had you as a patient?” Shinobu’s brows knit together as if she was contemplating something or she just got a new piece to fit in a puzzle that she did not like. “I dare say it’s not because you’ve never been hurt before, there are a few other scars that I can see here,” Shinobu leaned in and scanned over (Y/n)’s face, checking for any micro expressions as she spoke. “Now that I think about it, one of the Kakushi that brought you in claimed that you fought against their help and refused to come here. Have you been purposefully avoiding this place?” Me? (Y/n) found herself unable to look away from Shinobu’s eyes. They were like an amethyst abyss and (Y/n) felt like it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if she could sink into them and float around aimlessly forever. She cleared her throat, “No! Not at all, I just- most of my missions are farther away from here actually. It’s just more convenient to stop at wisteria houses. This time, it just so happened that here was closer!” (Y/n) let out a breath of air that was supposed to be a laugh as the Hashira’s eyes bore into her own. Shinobu stared a moment or two longer before closing her eyes and straightened herself so her back held better posture. “I see, well, allow me to formally welcome you,” Shinobu smiled. “Who knows, perhaps in two weeks I’ll be begging you to leave,” Shinobu teased, her eyes gleaming. (Y/n) barely managed to stop herself from having her eyes pop out of her head. “Two weeks?” She squeaked out, cursing the way the words left her mouth. “Yes,” Shinobu tilted her head suspiciously. “I really don’t want to discharge you before you’ve healed properly. Is there a reason you seem to be in such a hurry to leave?” “What? No... who is hurrying? I’m in no hurry, I’m cool as a cucumber.” (Y/n) wanted to slap herself. “Okay, cool cucumber...” Shinobu said each syllable with such excruciating slowness, (Y/n) thought she might as well have flossed a piece of sandpaper between her ears. “Mind putting this on? Then we’re going to move you to another room that’s a little less... depressing,” Shinobu frowned as she looked over at the two other demon slayers who were still dead asleep. “Sure,” (Y/n) took the clothing from Shinobu and pulled the top over her head and carefully switched her pants without straining her injury too much. Shinobu smiled and offered (Y/n) her arm for support as she shakily rise to her feet. Then the pair slowly made their way out of the infirmary and down the hall. “Here we are,” Shinobu slid open the door to reveal a small, but homey room. “I bet you must be tired from the walk over here so I’ll leave you to rest in just a moment. One of my attendants, Aoi, will be helping you with day to day things like recovery training and meals. Of course I’ll be checking on your progress from time to time as well. Aoi will drop by in an hour or so with food so in the meantime if you can’t sleep, there are books on the shelf and there is also a lovely view of the garden from the window if your interested,” Shinobu smiled sweetly. “Thank you,” (Y/n) returned the smile and sighed once Shinobu left the room and the door closed behind her. (Y/n) took in her room and nodded appraisingly. It was really nice, nicer than any wisteria home she had visited before, and besides Shinobu’s hair accessory and her surname, (Y/n) had yet to see an actual butterfly in the whole place. She felt a little foolish. She had expected the estate to be a giant insectarium where all the butterflies would roam free without restriction. If this was all she had to deal with, she would have come here sooner. (Y/n) walked over to the window to check out the view, pulling back the curtains she froze for a moment before jerking the curtains back in place and jumping back several steps. “Shitfuckcunt!” (Y/n) clasped her hands over her rapidly beating chest and stared back at the window with fearful eyes and slightly erratic breathing. There must have been at least seven butterflies of various sizes resting on the mesh of the window. (Y/n) cursed some more as she tried to calm her heart and felt the throbbing of her wound. Alright, so may haps she spoke to soon. Apparently there was some truth to the horrible scenarios her brain came up with. Luckily, the threat laid outside, she should be safe in here, right? Please? There was a curt knock on the door and (Y/n) turned to see it open to reveal a stern faced girl with piercing blue eyes. “I heard yelling, what’s wrong?” She asked, approaching (Y/n). “Oh, I’m fine I just... stubbed my toe on the bookshelf,” (Y/n) laughed, nervously. “You shouldn’t be wandering around, if you want to heal you should be resting in bed,” Aoi said, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re right, sorry. I’ll do that now.” “Right,” Aoi sighed, watching (Y/n) shuffle over to the bed and sit on it. “I’m Aoi, I’ll be helping you recover over the next few weeks. If you need anything let me know, I’ll be back in about forty-five with lunch, then we’ll do some light stretching.” “Alright, sounds good. Thank you, Aoi-san,” (Y/n) said, wincing as she laid against the mattress. Aoi nodded and left the room, closing the door behind her. Then she walked down the hall to where Shinobu was waiting for her. “Were you able to find out what that outburst was about?” “She claims she stubbed her toe on the bookshelf, but I can’t say I believe it. Her feet looked fine, she wasn’t even near the bookshelf when I came in,” Aoi informed. “I wonder what is going on with that girl,” Shinobu pondered. “Keep a close eye on her, please. Let me know if you find out anything about her odd behavior.” “Of course, Shinobu-sama.”

*** Just one more night, one more night and (Y/n) would be home free and no one had yet found out about her fear. There had been some close calls, one of the more notable being when Kanao came back from a mission with a butterfly clinging to her uniform and then it decided to flutter around the hall. (Y/n) yelled and tried to disguise the sound as a sneeze and then excused herself, claiming she forgot to feed Mochi before bolting off back to her room. She was sure no one actually bought that excuse, but she didn’t really care since no one questioned her about it. Shinobu however, seemed to grow ever more suspicious of her manic behavior so (Y/n) always had to stay on her toes around the Hashira as she would ask seemingly innocent questions, but her eyes were sharp and calculating like she was waiting for some kind of slip up. Needless to say, (Y/n) tried to keep her interactions with Shinobu to a minimum, no matter how attractive she found the Insect Pillar to be. (Y/n) was brought out of her thoughts as another wave of pain washed over her body. She grit her teeth together as Sumi, Kiyo, and Naho painfully stretched her body and Aoi prepared her antibiotic for the day. “Are you sure you don’t want to continue recovery training outside? It’s a beautiful day and you could use some fresh air,” Aoi advised. “Um, nope, I’m good.” (Y/n) squeaked, her arm popped as Naho tugged it back with all her might. “It’s pretty hot, I don’t do well in the heat,” she added, looking into Aoi’s skeptical eyes. “If you insist,” Aoi sighed. “Shinobu-sama will be coming to check you over tomorrow morning before you can leave. She wanted to know when she should stop by your room,” Aoi said, giving (Y/n) the medicine as the younger girls finished assaulting her muscles. “I’m fine with whenever,” (Y/n) shrugged, taking the medicine. She was just so ready to get out of this place. She was tired of flinching every time she saw a butterfly hair clip in the corner of her eye or worrying about the occasional open window or door. She was ready to go back on duty and put this whole thing behind her. All the girls were sweet, and she was happy to have met them, but being constantly on edge was tiring. “Am I good to turn in for the night?” (Y/n) yawned. “(Y/n)-san, it’s noon. We haven’t even had lunch yet,” Aoi said, crossing her arms. “Haha, you’re right, how silly of me,” (Y/n) cringed internally. Well, she had to try. She just felt safer in her room where she had more control over her environment. “Come on (Y/n)-san, let’s eat!” Sumi excitedly called. “We prepared lunch before we started stretching, it’ll be so good!” Kiyo smiled. “Okay, I’m coming,” (Y/n) smiled weakly as the younger girls pulled her in the direction of the kitchen. “She seems excited to be leaving, don’t you think?” Shinobu smiled sadly, startling Aoi with her sudden presence. “I wouldn’t say excited, she seems to be... relieved?” Aoi answered. “That doesn’t make me feel any better,” Shinobu sighed, “We haven’t done anything to her, why does she hate it here so much?” “I don’t understand her at all, Shinobu-sama. It’s probably best to just leave her be and send her on her way. Tomorrow we can all go back to normal,” Aoi said. “Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Shinobu frowned. “Well, I’m going back to the infirmary. Inosuke is raising hell again.” “Good luck with that.” “Thank you, something tells me I’ll need it,” and with that, Shinobu disappeared from the room.

*** (Y/n) released a relieved breath as her back hit her now closed bedroom door. She had gone to the infirmary to get her stitches removed and was bombarded by a crazed teen in a boar mask that kept demanding a fight. He chased her throughout the estate until (Y/n) finally managed to lose him and circled back to her room. She stood with her back pressed against the door a moment longer with her eyes shut, but they snapped right back open as a voice addressed her from the other side of the room. “(Y/n)-san, good evening. What a surprise. Do you need anything?” (Y/n)’s head jerked up to see Shinobu standing in a thin, shimmery yukata. Her hand poised over a fish tank as goldfish swarmed after the bits of fish food that slipped through her fingers. “Kochou-sama! Sorry, um- I must have gotten turned around. I could have sworn this was my room,” (Y/n) turned and fumbled with the door to try to make a quick escape, but Shinobu was faster and placed a delicate hand over the door, keeping it firmly in place. “No need to rush off, why not stay awhile? I have tea,” Shinobu singsonged. “I don’t want to bother you, it’s getting late. I’ve got that physical exam tomorrow and you probably have important things you need to do-“ “I’m not busy, it’s just a cup of tea, nothing too strainful for someone who has nearly recovered such as yourself,” Shinobu said, guiding (Y/n) to a little table and motioning her to take a seat on the matted floor while she glides to the other side of the table and poured tea into the two conveniently placed tea cups. “Thanks,” (Y/n) mumbled into the cup Shinobu had given her. “You’re very welcome,” Shinobu said, breathing in the aroma of her own cup. “Hospitality is an important value of the Butterfly Estate after all. I hope we made you feel comfortable and welcome here during your stay.” “Oh yes, I think you are all wonderful people. You all take your jobs seriously. I think I feel better now than before I was injured,” (Y/n) answered. “I’m glad to hear that,” Shinobu took a sip from her cup. “I just wish I understood then, why you seem to think you just can’t get away from us fast enough.” “Oh no!” (Y/n) gasped, nearly spilling her tea. “It’s not like that at all, I swear! I’m just- I’m a busy body. I just can’t sit still. I’m just excited to get back on duty,” (Y/n) explained. She was being truthful for the most part, but (Y/n) was also dancing around the major issue that probably brought about this conversation in the first place and it seemed like Shinobu knew it. “Busy body? I never would have guessed what with all the time you spend in your room. I believe Aoi told me you never once accepted her offers to go outside either. Why might that be?” Shinobu asked. “It’s summer, it’s hot! I hate how it’s so hot!” (Y/n) yelled defensively, feeling her back bump against a metaphorical wall with every word Shinobu spoke. “Why are you so interested in what I choose to do with my free time? I’m sure you have plenty of other patients to concern yourself with.” “I’m concerned about you in particular,” Shinobu stated simply. “You don’t need to be. You’ve done nothing wrong, no one has, I’m just ready to go.” “(Y/n)-san?” “Yes?” “I don’t believe you.” (Y/n) scoffed in disbelief, looking at the smiling woman before her. “Well, I don’t know how I could possibly change your perception,” she said, crossing her arms. “You could start by telling me why you are so uncomfortable here,” Shinobu prodded. “Just drop it, please.” (Y/n) sighed wearily. “I obviously don’t want to talk about it. I’ll be leaving tomorrow so there is no point in discussing it.” “So there is something.” Shinobu frowned. “Don’t beat yourself up over it, there’s nothing you can do about it,” (Y/n) assured, placing a hand over Shinobu’s without even thinking about it, then awkwardly she tried to withdraw it. Shinobu caught her hand though, keeping it clasped in hers. “We won’t know for sure what I can do for you unless you tell me. I want to help you, (Y/n)-san.” Why did this have to be so difficult? If only Shinobu knew how ridiculous this whole thing was, but (Y/n)’s pride was too great and she wasn’t going to suddenly drop the truth on Shinobu after all of that so she just shook her head and slid her hand out of Shinobu’s. “I really need to go to sleep, Kochou-sama. I’ll see you tomorrow morning for my exam. Thanks for the tea,” (Y/n) mumbled. Shinobu tried to get her to stay, but (Y/n) left before she could even finish her sentence. The Hashira, frowned and looked at her hand. It still tingled with the feeling of (Y/n)’s calloused fingers against her own. She gripped her fingers tightly to form a fist, a determined fire blooming in her eyes made it clear that this was far from over. “Shinobu!” Inosuke called as he kicked open her door. “I got the girl here just as you asked! I’m getting tempura tomorrow, right?!” “Yes,” Shinobu sighed. “But you better fix my door first.”

*** When Shinobu entered (Y/n)’s room the next morning, she was pleasantly surprised to find the girl was still sleeping. She decided to grab a book and wait for (Y/n) to awaken, but not before opening the window, as it was rather stuffy in the room. As the pleasant breeze wafted into the room, Shinobu moved the desk chair next to (Y/n)’s bed and began to read. Occasionally she would glance up and observe (Y/n)’s peaceful expression as she slept, making Shinobu’s heart flutter unexpectedly but it was not an unwelcome feeling. Shinobu observed a few stray butterflies from the garden flutter aimlessly through the window and grinned as one took roost in (Y/n)’s hair. Her book forgotten, she watched the insect slowly fan it’s wings as another came to rest on the nape of (Y/n)’s neck. The tickling feeling on (Y/n)’s bare neck caused her to stir in her sleep her hand made a move to scratch her neck and luckily the butterfly had the sense to fly off before the hand made contact. However it’s next perch was perhaps worse than the first. (Y/n) exhaled sharply through her nose as an unexpected light, fluttering weight rested just under her nose and on her upper lip. She immediately bolted upright and rubbed at her lip, looking sleepy and befuddled as the butterfly floated just out of her line of vision. “Good morning, (Y/n)-san. Did you enjoy your wake up kiss?” Shinobu chuckled “My what?” (Y/n) blushed, her sleep addled brain quickly becoming more alert. “I must say, you’d do very well here, the butterflies seem to compliment your beauty wonderfully,” Shinobu complimented. “Huh?” (Y/n) squinted her eyes and tensed her body. “...What are you talking about?” (Y/n) asked, as if she was afraid to know the answer. “The butterflies, they float around you-“ Shinobu stopped speaking abruptly as (Y/n) screamed and tore her covers off of her body and jumped out of her bed. Shinobu watched with shocked eyes and her mouth slightly agape as (Y/n) shook and curled defensively into herself as she darted into a bare corner of the room. (Y/n)’s eyes scanned the room and her breathing became more labored as she noticed a large butterfly blocking the door and three sitting on the window sill. There was one on the bed and one fluttering near the bookshelf. “(Y/n), look at me, what’s wrong?” Shinobu asked, trying to make eye contact. (Y/n)’s eyes finally focused on Shinobu and she looked as if she had forgotten she was in the room. “Kochou-san, help me! I- Get me out, get me out!” (Y/n) spoke rapidly, clinging to the Pillar as a butterfly flew in too close for comfort. “Okay, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” Shinobu pulled the girl into her side and ushered her to the door. She met some resistance as they neared the giant butterfly, but Shinobu shooed it away and it sluggishly flew over to the desk. Shinobu opened the door and (Y/n) bolted out and ran down the hall. The Insect Pillar cursed under her breath and ran after the clearly frightened girl. “(Y/n)-san, you’re safe now,” Shinobu called gently as (Y/n) reached a dead end. The girl turned and Shinobu’s heart ached when she saw the fearful expression upon her face. She walked up to (Y/n) and gently grasped her clammy and trembling hands in her own, squeezing them gently. “I um, I think I understand why you wanted to leave so badly now,” she smiled emphatically. “Yeah,” (Y/n) croaked. “No coming back from that. Just, please don’t make fun of me. I know how ridiculous my fear is, but it doesn’t make it any less frightening for me,” (y/n) mumbled. “I’m not going to make fun of you,” Shinobu said seriously. “I mean, it’s going to be very hard not to tease you about it, but I’d never do it maliciously,” she added. “Are you... going to tell everyone?” “I think we can keep this just between us,” Shinobu smiled. “Now, I’d like you to close your eyes for a moment.” “Why?” “A calming exercise. You look like you could use one.” “Okay,” (Y/n) closed her eyes and Shinobu released her hands and instructed her to breath in deeply through her nose for three counts and exhale through her mouth for another three counts and asked her to repeat the exercise ten times. As (Y/n) breathed, Shinobu carefully reached for the butterfly in (Y/n)’s hair and the calm insect crawled onto her finger with no problem. Then Shinobu carefully opened the conveniently placed window and released the butterfly back outside and quickly closed the window and returned in front of (Y/n) with two cycles left to spare. “Can I open my eyes now?” “Mmm, one more thing,” Shinobu simpered. She leaned forward and lightly kissed the tip of (Y/n)’s nose. “There, now you can open them.” “Okay,” (Y/n) squeaked.

*** After Shinobu cleared (Y/n) for returning to duty, (Y/n) changed into her uniform and prepared herself to go back on the road. She thanked Aoi and the others for their help and was about to make her way out of the mansion when Shinobu caught her at the doorway. “How do you plan to leave the estate with those winged beasts guarding the grounds?” She asked, sweetly. “I was just gonna run like hell,” (Y/n) admitted. “I... I suppose I won’t be seeing you again,” Shinobu said. Her words sounding more like a statement than a question. “Probably not,” (Y/n) sighed. “Nothing against you of course. You’re awesome. It’s just, there’s a lot going on here.” “I’m awesome, hmm? Well, you’re not too bad yourself,” Shinobu hummed. “Gee, thanks,” (Y/n) laughed. “I think I might actually miss you. In fact, just meeting you almost makes being dragged here against my will worth it.” “Was that supposed to be a compliment? If so, you aren’t really good at it,” Shinobu chuckled before speaking again. “You know, this doesn’t have to be goodbye. I wouldn’t mind seeing your raven coming around if you ever wanted to send me a letter. I’d return the favor with my own crow of course. “I’d like that,” (Y/n) smiled. “Perhaps we can make plans to meet again on a more even playing field. Maybe then I can see what you look like when you aren’t stiff as a board!” (Y/n) stuck out her tongue and landed a surprise attack on Shinobu’s nose, causing the Hashira to gasp at the Kinoto’s audacity. Then (Y/n)’s lips set into a small smirk. “I’ll be sure to write! Bye, Kochou-sama!” (Y/n) darted out of the door and Shinobu watched as the girl booked it across the lawn and laughed as she nearly tripped before jumping over the fence and out of sight. Shinobu stood there a moment longer as she swiped her sleeve over her damp nose, her eyes trained on the spot where (Y/n) disappeared over the fence. After her nose was wiped dry, she walked to her office to start drafting the first of many letters.

[arashikitten]

Of Molten Gold and Frozen Silver- Part one

This is a collection of the first three chapters for my fic, “Of Molten Gold and Frozen Silver”, as celebration for me finally getting an ao3 account! Thank you to everyone who has read this fic, chapter 4 is coming along! Without further ado, here’s Of Molten Gold and Frozen Silver part 1.

   When Qi Xiaotian had gone to Flower Fruit Mountain that morning, he’d gone expecting either brutal sparring, grueling physical labor, or, if Sun Wukong was feeling particularly lazy, an hour or so of meditation.

   He had not been expecting to find Sun Wukong hunched over in pain, gripping his head and snarling like a wild animal. He also hadn’t expected to see a familiar bluish-white smoke slowly circling the Monkey king, accompanied by the very worrying sound of small, whispering voices that seemed to fill up the cave. Qi Xiaotian felt ice settle into his veins. He recognized this, he’d seen this before, just a week prior.

   Baigujing. The White Bone spirit.

   He should’ve run. The moment he’d seen the white smoke, he should’ve booked it to the hills, rushed back to the city to sound the alarm for everyone, to save as many people as possible from the oncoming rampage.

   But… he couldn’t. Sun Wukong, his mentor, his idol, was in trouble. He needed help, and Qi Xiaotian would be damned if he didn’t at least try to do something. Slowly, carefully, he reached out toward the shaking Monkey King.

   “Sun Wukong? Hey, um, are… are you-“

   “Run.” Qi Xiaotian froze, the air leaving his lungs as terror flooded his veins like ice. Wukong’s voice was raspy, tight with pain, and each syllable trembled in the musty air of the cave. This thing- this demon, it was hurting his mentor, and Xiaotian felt his heart wrench at the notion. He needed to help.

   “Wukong-“

   “Xiaotian, you need to run. I can’t… I can’t hold Baigujing back for much longer. It’s way...way stronger than before, I won’t last long. I thought, thought that I could handle it, but…” the monkey king gasped as his knees gave out, sending him to the hard stone floor. Qi Xiaotian rushed forward, even as Wukong began to growl like a rabid animal, tail lashing back and forth like an irate cat. He reached forward, almost touching Sun Wukong, when-

   “STAY BACK!” A pale gold force rippled out from the monkey king’s form, sending Xiaotian flying back. He winced as he slowly began to push himself up, a twinge of pain in his side confirming the presence of a quickly-forming bruise. He looked up at his mentor, questions on his tongue-

   When he finally saw Sun Wukong’s face. And every muscle, every nerve ending, went cold as terror crashed full-force into him like a tsunami, sending him plunging into the waves, too disoriented to know which way was up even as he was drowning in fear.

   Dark, empty shadows obscured to top half of Wukong’s face, leaving Xiaotian unable to see the familiar golden glow of his eyes. The bottom half of his face, the part Xiaotian could see, was pale and washed out, appearing a dusky gray-purple like that of a corpse. His mouth was twisted in an ugly snarl, sharp teeth glinting in the dim light of the cave. But that wasn’t what scared Qi Xiaotian.

   No, the thing that scared Qi Xiaotian was the singular, glowing blue eye that pierced through the shadows of the Monkey King’s face, pale smoke leaking from the outer corner like tears. And, despite the cruel snarl and the tense, aggravated posture…

   That eye was shining with fear. Sun Wukong… was scared.

   Sun Wukong. Who had fought countless demons. Sun Wukong, who had thwarted death countless times, becoming immortal four times over in the process. Sun Wukong, who had gone up against the entire Court of Heaven, and was only stopped by the Buddha himself. Sun Wukong, who was strong enough to lift an entire mountain with ease.

   Sun Wukong, who had saved his life…

   Was afraid. Was terrified of whatever was trying to take over his body, trying to trap him in his own mind. His mentor, his powerful, wise, unflappable mentor was scared, and Xiaotian could only watch in horror as he began to succumb to the demon.

   “Kid… listen… to me. You… you need to- to run. Go- go and warn the others. Please, before… before it’s too late.” Gods, Wukong sounded so desperate, so terrified, and it made Xiaotian’s heart crack in his chest. His throat felt tight as he held back a sob, praying to whoever was listening to please, please put a stop to this, please don’t let this be happening.

   “Sun Wukong, please, no…” it came out a whisper, trembling with unshed emotion.

   “Kid… run. Please. I don’t… I don’t want to- to hurt you. Not when… not when you’ve done… so much for- for me. Please. Run.” Qi Xiaotian gasped softly as he saw tears slowly trail down the Monkey King’s face, even as he could see the traces of his mentor began to leave that one blue eye…

   And suddenly Wukong’s face relaxed, a small fond smile taking it’s place over the snarl, that glowing blue eye filling with affection and kindness and love-

   Xiaotian’s breath stuttered as he stepped back. His eyes burned with tears that he refused to let fall, trembling hands covering his mouth as he began to sob. Wukong cared about him, cared about him not just as his successor, but his-

   Xiaotian turned and ran as fast as he could, eyes screwed shut against the pain and wind as he finally let his tears fall.

   Sun Wukong watched him go, smile filling with relief. And even as the White Bone spirit finally won, even as pain flooded every nerve ending, even as his heart started to shatter…

   He knew his kid was safe.

————————————————————————

   Sun Wukong was falling. He had been for a while now, the pitch dark that surrounded him obscuring any view of a potential floor or walls or anything. At first it had scared him a bit, but now…

   Now it was just straight-up boring. One can only stare at nothing for so long before their mind begins to wander, and Wukong really didn’t want that to happen. Especially not after…

   Wukong felt the fur on the back of his neck raise as he flashed back to what happened in the cave. When the Baigujing had first appeared, he’d attempted to destroy it like he had over four millennia ago. It should’ve been easy.

   But… something had changed. The Baigujing had vanished as Wukong had attempted to strike it, only to reappear right behind him. He’d attempted to leap out of the way, to fly out of its reach.

   He hadn’t been fast enough. Before he could even turn his head, the White Bone spirit had flown into his chest, drenching him in ice that seemed to fill his lungs. His vision had become a haze of blue and white, blinding him while insidious little voices whispered in his ears all of his doubts and insecurities-

   And then the kid had shown up. His kid had shown up. He hadn’t even noticed until the kid’s voice had cut through the whispers, sounding worried and confused.

   He’d been terrified then, terrified that the White Bone spirit would take him over then and make him hurt his successor, hurt Qi Xiaotian. So he’d begged the boy to run, to warn everyone in the city to evacuate. Of course, the Baigujing hadn’t taken to kindly to that, and another surge of it’s power had sent him to his knees.

   He recalled, vividly, the raw overwhelming terror on Xiaotian’s face as he’d turned to face him, recalled with painful clarity how tears had begun to form in the kid’s eyes as he pleaded with Wukong, begging him not to go. And when he had realized the fear in the kid’s eyes wasn’t because he was afraid of him, but rather for him…

   Wukong grit his teeth as he remembered his final words to Xiaotian, and the feelings that had accompanied them. There was pain and fear, yes but- there was something else, something that was new to him. It had roared within him like a blazing fire, sending beams of light through his soul like a miniature sun, a sudden need to protect his kid-

   Wukong was jarred from the memory at that. His what? He’d called Qi Xiaotian his- his what?

   My kid, and there it was, that warm feeling in his chest that screamed at him to find Xiaotian and wrap him up in a blanket and protect- Sun Wukong blinked. When the hell had that happened? When had he become so attached? When had he stopped viewing Xiaotian as his successor, and started viewing him as his kid?

   Sun Wukong thought back. These feelings… they’d been strong during their last encounter in the cave, too strong to be entirely new. But he couldn’t remember any other-

   Wukong’s head shot up. The Macaque. When he’d seen Xiaotian being pinned to the mountain by his own staff, the Six-eared Macaque looming over him, he’d felt that rush of protective instinct roar within him, screeching at him to get the kid out of there, to get him to safety, to get him away from that monster-

   Wukong shook at the memory, Xiaotian’s look of terror and betrayal from that day had been burned into his retinas. He hated that look, hated that the kid had been subjected to that kind of terror not just once, but twice now.

   But most of all, Sun Wukong hated that both times, Xiaotian had been put in danger because of Wukong’s own shortcomings. His kid, his kid, had been put in life threatening danger, and Sun Wukong had either been almost too late, or the direct source of that danger.

   And now he was stuck here in this endless void, a prisoner in his own mind, unable to protect the one person in the world that he cares about.

   “Well, well, well. This is certainly new.” Wukong started, head whipping around to see-

   The Baigujing’s glowing blue-white eyes stared out at him from the darkness. It took the form of a thin, pale woman in a flimsy sheer white dress, light blue markings in the appearance of bones marring otherwise smooth, uniform skin.

   It looked like a corpse.

   The Baigujing grinned, mouth stretching far too wide, showing off it’s rotten gums. Wukong felt ice flood his insides.

   “I never took you for the fatherly type, but three thousand years is plenty of time for change. Although, I do have to wonder: why him, of all people? He’s so… immature. Easily distracted. Demanding. Sloppy. The kids… pathetic.”

   Fury burned in Wukong at the words. Yes, Xiaotian was a bit immature, and he didn’t have much in the way of an attention span, but he was a good kid. He was smart even if most people didn’t notice, and he had a drive unlike any that Wukong had ever seen. And Xiaotian was far, far from pathetic.

   However, the fire of rage was quickly doused by the cold realization: Baigujing knew.

   It knew about Qi Xiaotian (the protective feeling started to grow in his chest).

   It knew about his relationship to Qi Xiaotian (that feeling grew brighter, hotter in his lungs like a bonfire).

   And it knew that hurting Qi Xiaotian would break him (the feeling was overwhelming him, consuming every other thought until the only thing that mattered was Xiaotian Xiaotian Xiaotian Xiaotian-

   Sun Wukong was consumed by golden light that shattered the obsidian dark like a mirror, and the Baigujing flinched back to shield it’s eyes from the blinding light. It felt it’s will being pushed back by the Monkey King, his bright white light stinging the dark tendrils of it’s control.

   For just a moment, Wukong was able to see. For a split, vital moment, he was in control.

   A moment was all he needed. He knew he wouldn’t last long. Already he could feel the Baigujing starting to take back control, could feel himself slipping from his own mind. He needed to slow the Baigujing down, just enough for Xiaotian to get help.

   Enough so his kid could be safe. He would not let him down this time.

   Sun Wukong braced himself as he grabbed a sharp rock and raised it above his head.

   He could hear the whispers of the Baigujing now, getting louder and louder-

   He saw Qi Xiaotian’s face, looking up at him with a happy little smile, eyes shining with warmth and admiration in a memory long past-

   Wukong slammed the stone into his knee, snapping it in two, right as he slipped back into the obsidian void.

———————————————————————

   Red son restlessly paced the unfinished halls of the new lair, dark red coat silently fluttering as he did. It was a nervous habit of his, something he’d developed fairly recently, and he felt as if he might explode if he stopped.

   The events of the past week were still fresh on his mind, and now played a starring role in his nightmares whenever he tried to sleep.

   His father- his dear, beloved father- had attempted to kill him. His father, whom he was absolutely and unshakably loyal to, had called both him and his mother traitors. His father had called him weak. Useless. A disgrace. And even though Red son knew his father wasn’t in his right state of mind, even though he knew now that his father had been possessed…

   It had begun to plant these seeds of doubt in him. After all, he’d had yet to reclaim the staff from that infernal Noodle boy, and the few victories he had were only achieved with the help of his mother or father.

   He’d have yet to win a fight entirely on his own.

   The thought stung, more than Red Son was willing to admit.

   Then there was the actual fight. The one against the Demon Bull king. The one with Qi Xiaotian.

   Qi Xiaotian. The Noodle Boy. The one who currently wielded the Monkey King’s staff. He had crashed into Red Son’s life with all of the reckless force and chaos of an out-of-control freight train, upending all of his hard work with a practiced ease. He frustrated Red Son to no end, and yet at the same time, Red son had found himself anticipating every fight against the Noodle Boy with a giddy, childish excitement.

   Of course, he’d still hated him. Despised him for even thinking that he could stand up to the might of the Demon Bull family, regardless of whether or not he had the power and yes, fine, skill, to back it up. It was an insult, for a mere mortal to even consider the idea that they could even begin to compare to him, the great Red Son!

   But now, everything Red Son had felt toward the loud, excitable man had been thrown into turmoil. And the worst part was that, looking back, Red Son could tell that this wasn’t just from the team up against his father. No, these complex feelings had been there, as far as Red Son knew, since the race for the immortal peaches. They had just been overshadowed by frustration and his preconceived ideas about the Monkey King’s successor. The fight a week ago had simply brought these feelings to his attention, strengthening them in the process.

   Which, considering what exactly these feelings were, and who they were directed toward, was not good for Red’s already strained relationship with his parents.

   Red son blushed as he remembered the fight against the Demon Bull King. He and his mother were crouched in a fighting position, his mother summoning her massive fan and Red Son already calling flames to his fingertips. His father, locked in the possession of the Baigujing, had charged at them, roaring like a wild animal…

   Until Xiaotian, in true Noodle boy fashion, came careening full-speed smack-dab in the middle of the Bull King’s path, not unlike their first meeting. Red son, despite past experiences with Xiaotian literally dropping in on him and his family, had been surprised.

   He’d been even more surprised when, without even thinking about it, he’d sworn to fight alongside the very person he’d been trying to kill not one week prior. He hadn’t even thought about it, hadn’t even been suspicious of Xiaotian at first. It had been a knee-jerk reaction, completely instinctual. That in itself was concerning, because his first, instinctual reaction to Noodle Boy showing up in their lair to fight his father should not be “let me help fight with you”, regardless of the circumstances. Granted, his mother had also agreed to help Xiaotian fight, but she clearly hadn’t been happy about it.

   Red son, on the other hand… despite his history with Xiaotian, despite their numerous past conflicts, despite the VERY IMPORTANT FACT THAT HE AND XIAOTIAN WERE SUPPOSED TO BE FUCKING ENEMIES, Red Son had felt his heart leap at the prospect of fighting next to the monkey kid, instead of against him. And he’d found that he’d actually really enjoyed fighting with Xiaotian, made even more alarming when, hours after the fact, Red son had found himself daydreaming about fighting alongside Xiaotian again, of sparring with him on the rooftops or in the mountains, of talking about old stories and myths and shows they like… of just being together.

   Of course, when Red Son finally caught himself, he’d denied absolutely everything, blaming it all on the leftover adrenaline and anticipation from the battle, telling himself that it was a one time thing, and nothing more.

   That argument had been torn to fucking pieces when, that night, Red son dreamt that he and Xiaotian had become friends, sparring together on the rooftops of the city and sitting together at a small cafe, chatting leisurely over coffee and tea. They had rented out a small apartment together, in between the old lair and that little noodle shop he knew Xiaotian worked at. In his dream, they had gone to the apartment and sat on a small, gold and red couch to watch some nonsensical movie. They had talked about something that Red son couldn’t remember, when suddenly he’d found the noodle boy leaning up against him, head resting on Red’s shoulder, fast asleep. It felt so… so normal, so calm and happy and warm, it felt like home. It made his heart race, made his stomach flutter like a hummingbird’s wings, and he couldn’t help the rising joy and affection and love-

   Red son had woken feeling more content than he had his entire life, and yet he still ached for more. Then he’d fully woken up, and that warm, brimming satisfaction was replaced with cold horror. This went beyond leftover adrenaline, beyond a stupid passing thought. This was real, this was serious. He liked Xiaotian, really liked him if that dream was anything to go by.

   But he couldn’t possibly like the Noodle boy like that: they were enemies, constantly fighting each other, constantly at odds. There was also the very important fact that Red son despised the Noodle Boy, and the noodle boy more than likely felt the same way about him.

   But even as Red son tried to argue, he knew that the first part, at least wasn’t true, and that it hadn’t been true since… since…

   Red son blanched. When had he stopped despising the noodle boy? When had the fiery, burning rage softened into something less, had become simple annoyance as opposed to withering vitriol? Most importantly, when in the fresh, ever loving fuck, did the idea of living with Qi Xiaotian become more appealing, more tantalizing, than the idea of ruling the world alongside his father and mother?

   It made no sense. How could he go from despising someone with every fiber of his being to… to… to whatever the fuck this was??? How could he go from wanting to from wanting to kill someone every time you saw them to wanting to live with them??? To wanting to spar with them, to wanting to go to coffee shops together, wanting to watch movies together, wanting to hold their hand and hug them and talk with them and….

   Red had been so caught up in his head, so caught up in his thoughts about the Monkey kid, that he hadn’t even noticed that he had been walking to his makeshift room until he was standing at his new desk (there were already some darkened scorch marks from when he’d caught himself daydreaming about Xiaotian again, as Red had caught himself wondering what it would feel like to kiss the spiky-haired younger man. The memory still brought a harsh flush to his cheeks.), holding a small messy sketch that he’d done a couple of days ago. It was of Xiaotian, who, in the sketch, had the staff leaning against his left shoulder, one hand in the pocket of that gaudy orange hoodie, and a wide, easy smile on his face.

   He’d hidden it in the small, hidden drawer on his new desk, to ensure that his mother didn’t find it. He’d been unable to bring himself to destroy it, and had taken to storing it in one of the pockets of his trench coat. He often found himself taking it out to stare at whenever he was feeling particularly stressed, or when he felt as though his parents were whispering about him behind his back, scorning him for being weak and a disappointment and-

   No, Red Son growled to himself. They do not hate you. They do not think that of you, they love you, they support you, they are proud of you. But there was still that doubt, that lingering fear that the Baigiujing had planted, and for some reason, that little, shoddy, rough sketch of someone that should only serve to inflame those feelings of inadequacy was now his main source of comfort.

   How strange, that his family was now the cause of his fear while his enemy was his source of comfort and warmth? But then again, Xiaotian had been turning Red son’s world on its head since that fateful day, when he’d fallen from the sky as though the Buddha himself had plucked him up by the hood of his hoodie and plopped him right into Red son’s life.

   Perhaps he had. After all, Xiaotian was the Monkey King's successor, and he’d shown up at the exact moment that the Demon Bull king had been freed, and the staff along with it.

   Red Son sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shoved the Xiaotian sketch into his coat pocket. Clearly, he’d been cooped up for too long.

   Perhaps a nice walk through the edge of the city would do him some good. Besides, what were the chances of him running into the noodle boy there?

—————————    —————————   —————————

   His lungs burned as he ran, heart pounding in time with his footfalls. He couldn’t stop though, not until everyone was safe. And that meant running with everything he had, if only so he could get to the city in time to warn of the incoming threat.

   Tears stung his eyes again at the thought. His mentor, his idol, had become a monster right in front of him. And the worst part, the worst part was that there was nothing that Xiaotian could’ve done to stop it. In that moment, he’d been nothing but a bystander, unable to do anything but sit by and watch as one of the most powerful beings in all of China, his mentor, was possessed by a demon.

   Gods, Wukong had been so scared in that moment. Xiaotian had seen the small tremble in his paws, the way he’d recoiled from Xiaotian’s touch like a wounded animal.

   And then there was the screaming. Xiaotian had gotten maybe 10 miles away from the mountain when it had started, loud and high and pained, a polyvocal screech that dipped between Wukong’s lower roars and the high raspy cries of the Baigujing. It had been close, too, no more than a few miles back, sending terror shooting through Xiaotian so hard and fast it had made him nauseous. He’d been rooted to the spot, eyes wide and hands clenched into trembling fists, tears starting back up and making his vision blur. He had stumbled back, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs that burned his lungs and made his throat tighten almost like a noose around his neck.

   Wukong was hurt, and if the polyvocal quality of those screams was anything to go by, he trying to fight back for control. But eventually, Wukong’s voice had died out, submerged under the raspy, high voice of the Baigujing, and Xiaotian had to turn and run toward the city. The Baigujing was coming after all, and this time…

   This time Xiaotian wasn’t sure he could win this fight.

   So he’d continued to run, the constant mantra of don’t let them catch you don’t let them catch you the only thing keeping him from collapsing where he was. His mind kept playing tricks on him, too, with small wisps of translucent blue-white teasing the edge of his vision, and every dark shadow and oddly shaped log appearing like Wukong to Xiaotian’s tear-blurred eyes.

   By the time he could finally see the edge of the city, Xiaotian’s nerves were raw and frayed, his lungs burning like they were on fire. There was no time to stop though. The possessed Wukong couldn’t be that far behind, and there were so many people he needed to get out…

   But even as Xiaotian barreled toward the skyline, he had a realization that made his stomach drop like a stone: even if he was able to evacuate everyone in time, how in the hell was he gonna get anyone to believe him? Sure, the Gold and Silver demon brothers caused some issues every now and then, and the Demon Bull family had wrecked the city on more than one occasion, but Sun Wukong hadn’t been seen by anyone but himself for at least the last 300 years. On top of that, Sun Wukong was supposed to be one of the most powerful beings in all of China, preceded only by Guanyin and the Buddha himself. Something like the Baigujing, which had been considered a low level demon before now, should not have been able to take control of Sun Wukong so easily, or at all really.

   So how, how was he going to get anyone besides Zhu Dachu, Long Xiaojiao, Tang Shifu, and Sha Wujing to believe him? And once he did that, however long it would take, how was he going to be able to evacuate the entire city before the Baigujing got here-

   Xiaotian’s train of thought was abruptly derailed when he slammed into someone at full speed, bowling whoever it was over and sending Xiaotian himself skidding a good few feet in the dirt. He gasped in pain as his already bruised side slammed into the ground, no doubt aggravating the injury even more. He winced as he sat up, head spinning slightly as he did. Xiaotian lifted his hand to his forehead to assess the damage when the person he’d slammed into finally spoke.

   “I ought to burn you to a crisp, you filthy peasant! Look what you did to my coat! How dare you- wait a minute. Qi Xiaot- I mean, Noodle Boy? What are you doing here?” Xiaotian froze as dread flooded him. No. No no no nononono. Why, out of everyone in the city, did I have to run into the one demon that tries to murder me on a regular basis?

   Of course, out of the 20+ million people that Xiaotian could’ve bumped into, Red Son was the one person in his way.

   Great.

—————-  —————-  —————  —————-

   Of course, out of everyone that Red Son could’ve encountered, it was the damned Noodle Boy who had come barreling into him like a bat out of hell, jacket and pants torn and muddy (there was also a small red stain on his side that Red chose not to think about at that moment). The force at which the boy had slammed into him had sent Red Son flying, landing on his back with a thud and tearing up his once pristine trench coat.

   That alone had incensed Red Son enough that he didn’t realize who had run into him at first. It was only when he turned to see that familiar orange hoodie, that signature bright red headband, that he had realized that it was Qi Xiaotian.

   He’d been so shocked that he’d almost accidentally called him by his actual name, a slip up that he made sure to rectify quickly as possible. Couldn’t have the Noodle Boy thinking that he was important enough for the great Red Son to know his name, after all.

   He watched as Xiaotian froze upon hearing his voice, and worry started to knaw at him when the usually confident and boisterous delivery boy started shaking, dread filling his eyes like tar.

   It made something in his gut clench, seeing that look on Xiaotian. It reminded Red of war refugees, with their wide eyes that weren’t seeing anything that was truly there, lost in a world ravaged first by fire, then machine gun fire, then missiles. It was a look that spoke of horrific, monstrous things, things that would take even the most resilient of men and empty them until they were nothing more than husks, their spirits broken by the relentless waves of death and destruction.

   It was a look that Xiaotian never should’ve had to wear, but here he was now, right in front of Red Son, beaten up and covered in dirt and bruises and cuts that he did not know the origins of.

   Red Son was shaken from his musings when the Noodle Boy had jumped up, one hand reaching back for the staff and the other hand reaching out flat in front of him. He had already started to back away, and Red Son was struck again by just how haggard the usually energic boy looked then.

   “Listen Red Son. I’m not here to fight right now, ok? I know you probably couldn’t care less, but there’s a very powerful demon coming at the city right now, and I don’t know if I’m gonna have enough time to evacuate everyone as is, so if you could please just-“

   “What do mean, ‘a powerful demon’? Shouldn’t you be able to handle it, what with having all of Wukong’s powers and whatnot?” At that, an almost pained look flitted across Noodle Boy’s face, and the hand that had been going for the staff suddenly went to his side.

   “That’s…. that’s the- the problem.” Dread turned to alarm at that. What the hell did that mean? Surely there wasn’t a demon powerful enough to take down Sun Wukong in their own, right? Not even his whole family could claim that, and they were one of the most powerful demon families around.

   “It’s… the Baigujing, it…. it escaped to- to Flower Fruit Mountain.” Red Son’s stomach dropped like a stone. Shit. Shit. His father had been a tough fight under the influence of the White Bone Spirit, and had it not been for Xiaotian’s arrival, there was a very good chance he and his mother would not be alive today. If the Baigujing had possessed Sun Wukong….

   “When I… when I got there this morning for- to train, with, with Wukong, it was already…. it was….” Xiaotian was shaking now, and Red Son hated just how much he understood the pain in Xiaotian’s eyes. After all, hadn’t he been in the Noodle Boy’s exact position not even two weeks ago? Hadn’t he known the terror, the betrayal, of seeing the person he looked up to more than anyone else on the planet turned against him, becoming a monster under the influence of some monstrous demon?

   Hadn’t he watched as his father, his loving, caring father, for whom he had dedicated his life toward, came rushing at him with the full intent to kill?

   If Xiaotian hadn’t shown up then, Red would be dead. As much as he hated to admit it (his heart jumped in spite of himself), he owed the Noodle Boy. He owed him so, so much, more than he would likely ever know.

   Sun Wukong had been possessed by the Baigujing. Xiaotian had, more likely than not, seen it happen. Sun Wukong, possessed by the Baigujing, was most likely heading toward the city with the intent to level everything within a 10-mile radius, and then some. If they wanted to limit casualties, then they either needed to evacuate everyone…

   Or, Xiaotian would have to face Wukong outside of the city. On his own. Where he would most likely die, scared and confused, murdered by his idol.

   Absolutely not.

   Before Red Son could reconsider, before he could even begin to think about the implications of what he was about to do, Red Son held his hand out to Qi Xiaotian. Determination burned in him, chasing away the icy tendrils of dread and replacing them with the barest glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he could do something good for once. Maybe he could fix his mistakes, become better than what he was

   Maybe he could become someone worth loving.

   And it was with that final thought that Red Son reached out to his enemy-turned-rival-turned-something else, one hand gripping the small sketch still in his pocket, and said

   “Let me help.”

[scarabbai]

Adeptus Fragile! Handle with Care.

Rating: T

Relationships: Ganyu & Xiao | Alatus, Xiao | Alatus & Zhongli, Ganyu & Zhongli, etc.

Fic Summary:

Centuries have passed since the age of the Traveler and their companions, and the immortals of Teyvat—or what’s left of them—have moved on, living modern lives in modern times. The adepti of Liyue are no exception.

But when something rather unexpected happens, their modern life begins to get a little... too modern. One sunny morning, the great Conqueror of Demons, an accomplished senior in the ranks of the Adepti, wakes up and looks at the world with innocent eyes.

“Who am I?”

Archons, someone give poor Ganyu a break...

-

Chapter 1:

In which Xiao wakes up

AO3 Link

The first thought that comes to him when he wakes up is: Fuck, my head hurts.

The second one comes after, when he pulls the sheets tighter around himself and buries his face in his pillow with a groan: I don’t want to get up.

The third slams into him just as he’s about to fall back asleep: Wait, where am I?

He bolts upright in bed, shaking the sleep out of his eyes like a wet dog shaking out its fur. He regrets it when it only makes his headache worse, but the fact that he doesn’t recognize any of his surroundings when his eyes do a quick sweep of the room overshadows that.

Alright, this is fine. Everything is fine. Remain calm. Remain calm, uh...

The realization crashes down on him like a wave, leaving him cold and shivering.

He doesn’t even know his own name.

Okay. Okay, you know what? He can do this. He can work with this. First things first: get situated.

He makes a move to get out of bed, but with his legs tangled in the sheets, it ends with him taking a rather ungraceful tumble instead. His face burns with embarrassment when he lands on the floor with a thud, reduced to nothing more than a balled up heap of limbs. Frustrated, he kicks and struggles blindly, but it only gets him more jumbled up. He’s like a cat trying and failing to escape a blanket cocoon.

He huffs. Mortals and their needlessly irritating fabrics...

Wait, what? Where did that come from? He scrunches up his face in confusion, puzzled by his own thoughts.

Thankfully, he doesn’t need to think much more about it when he hears a knock at the door.

“Xiao,” calls a voice from outside the room, and his head snaps toward the sound. Shit, someone’s here. “Xiao, are you alright in there? I heard a loud noise.”

He doesn’t respond, not trusting his own ability to speak. What should he say? What should he do? And why is that voice, of all things, so familiar? It’s comforting, despite having no idea who it belongs to.

The knocking comes again, more insistent this time. “Xiao,” the voice repeats, firmer but concerned. “If you don’t say anything, I’m coming in!”

He struggles harder in response, but his awkward flailing gets him nowhere. He slumps in defeat. Apparently, this is his life. Whoever he is, bested by a very long and very tangled roll of cloth.

When the door opens, he freezes. A girl with light blue hair steps into the room. She has a gentle and earnest look to her despite the worry written all over her face, and...

Are those horns on her head?

There must be some kind of next level pathetic expression on his face because when she glances over and sees him looking the way he does on the floor, her first reaction isn’t laughter. Instead, she gasps in horror and rushes over, kneeling down and fretting over him in a way that makes him tense up and abandon the idea of wriggling free. He shrinks away and hides his face from her big, purple-pink-whatever colored eyes—they make him feel guilty, somehow.

“Xiao, what’s going on? What happened?” She reaches out but seems to rethink her decision, pulling her hand back before it can touch him. Is he poisonous or something? “It must be the karmic debt again... I’ll call Zhongli, he’ll know what to do.”

She’s back on her feet almost instantly, but before she can turn and leave, some unknown impulse—fear? Loneliness? Just the need for an explanation?—has him reaching out.

“Wait,” he pleads, and the sound of his own voice surprises him somehow. “Don’t go...”

The words stop her in her tracks. He can’t identify the emotion in her eyes when she slowly leans down again to take in his teary-eyed expression, but he thinks it might be uncertainty. Or suspicion? Maybe it’s just intense focus. He’s not sure what that something is, but he’s pretty sure now that he’s bad at reading people.

With that same look of scrutiny on her face, she cautiously reaches out and places a hand on his forehead. Her skin is cold to the touch, and he fights the urge to flinch away. He’s learning very quickly that he’s unused to physical contact.

Despite this, something inside him relaxes as the coolness spreads from his head to the rest of his body. She’s trustworthy, he decides. He may not know who she is or why her presence is so soothing, but he knows this.

Is she family? She feels like family. He does have a family, right?

A thoughtful—and somewhat displeased—hum breaks him out of his thoughts. Expression blank but eyes curious, he blinks up at her while she puts her hand to her chin and frowns at him. She seems troubled.

“Xiao–” She cuts herself off, worrying her lower lip in uncertainty. Dimly, he realizes she’s been referring to him by that the whole time—Xiao might be his name. “You’re... acting a bit strange this morning. And you came stumbling home last night, and you went to sleep when you never do, and...”

She sighs. Heavily. She sounds so distressed it makes him feel a bit sick in solidarity.

“I don’t mean to pry or overstep, but...” She pauses, unsure, and that inexplicable feeling of guilt returns to him in her brief silence. “Are you alright? I think there might be something wrong...” A look of alarm crosses her face, and she quickly backpedals. “Not with you, of course! I’m just saying...” She fidgets a little, but when she meets his eyes this time, her resolve seems stronger. “I’m just saying if you’ve gotten into any trouble, you can tell me. I’ll do my best to help, wherever I can. It’s the least I could do.”

He stares at her in response. She stares back, wilting a little.

Definitely family, he concludes. A doting older sister, perhaps.

Awkwardly, he realizes her silence means he should answer her somehow, but instead of replying with something intelligent or actually explaining himself, all his stupid mouth blurts is, “Good morning. Are you my big sister?”

He immediately wants to bury himself.

While she balks, caught off guard by his clearly uncharacteristic statement, he panics. More foolish nonsense spills out of his mouth, and between her confused spluttering and his inability to form proper words, their attempted conversation dissolves into an unrecognizable mess of half-formed sounds. It’s as if he isn’t used to speaking or hasn’t spoken in a long time, and this failed speech of his is making up for it.

In the end, none of what they attempted to say was actually comprehensible. He takes one look at the pure confusion—and maybe even a little horror, but he has a hard time telling—written all over her face and knows he has to try again. It appears he’s bad with words as well. Shame and frustration settle in his chest at this discovery.

The first thing he manages to come up with is, “Sorry.” He buries his face in the fabric wrapped around him, feeling small. “I don’t... know what’s happening,” he admits, and he hopes the note of fear in his voice is muffled. “I don’t remember anything. I don’t know who you are.” His eyes sting with tears. Suddenly, he feels pathetic. “I don’t even know who I am...”

Saying it out loud breaks something inside him—it all feels so much more real now, and he‘s so confused, so lost. What is he supposed to do? Who was he? Why did this happen? Frantic thoughts swell like rising water within him, and he sobs, drowning. He doesn’t know. He just doesn’t know.

The question that says it all falls from his lips like tears:

“Who am I?”

- - -

Oh, this is bad. This is really, really bad.

She doesn’t know what she expected from this morning, but it certainly wasn’t this. It certainly wasn’t waking up to find Xiao—whom she greatly respects—in... whatever state it is he’s in.

He had called her big sister. Her! The big sister! The sheer disbelief she felt at those words—if anything, Xiao is the senior. His rank in adeptal affairs is higher than hers despite their ages, and their interactions have always reflected this. And if that wasn’t jarring enough, what he revealed next sent her reeling.

No memories. None at all. Can you believe that? The Conqueror of Demons with sudden amnesia? What is this? What has her life come to?

She realizes, belatedly, that Xiao is crying. He’s crying right now in front of her when he had never once showed an ounce of vulnerability before her in the past, and the sight is shocking.

Well, no time to lose. She has to do something, even if she’s not sure what exactly it is she should do.

Swallowing down her nerves, she tries to sound as gentle and reassuring as possible when she shushes him and murmurs, soothingly, “It’ll be alright, Xiao, it’ll be alright... You’ll be okay.”

As she says this, she awkwardly reaches down and—the act kills her a little inside—pats Xiao lightly on the head. Despite his sobbing, he calms slightly. That alone is enough to make her nerves fade just a little, and she takes the opportunity to help him out of the blanket bundle he’s gotten himself into. With careful hands, she unwraps the sheets tangled around his body, peeling away layer after layer until he goes from sad spring roll to just Xiao.

As she pulls back to assess her handiwork, it really strikes her how... small Xiao is.

He hasn’t gotten any shorter or thinner, his facial features are unchanged, and overall he looks the same as he did yesterday, but the way he holds himself now makes all the difference. His emotions are out in the open as he wipes at his tears, his heart unburdened by memory, his eyes innocent. Without the millenniums of suffering and coldness that defined him, he feels so young.

He’s just a boy, she thinks as she pulls him into a hug. He resists at first but settles into the embrace soon after, resting his chin on her shoulder. Mindful of the way he shakes with quieting sniffles, she rubs little circles into his back. The action seems to soothe him.

Ganyu considers the situation. This is okay, actually. This is alright. Zhongli-dàrén will help her figure out what has happened to Xiao when they go to him, but she can handle this for now. She can manage this.

Responsibility is a self assigned fate that has always fit her like a glove, and this is just another to add to her list of duties. Surely it won’t be that hard to look after her new little brother?

“Your name is Xiao,” she begins, voice soft. “I’m Ganyu.”

She feels rather than sees the nod Xiao gives in response. It makes her smile as she pets his hair.

“And you’re right, Xiao-dìdì. I’m your big sister, and I’ll take care of you.”

[faerynova]

First Line Tag Game

Tagged by @wickfursfanfics

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line, then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

i actually did all 20 so this is under the cut bc its l o n g

1.) when you hit disaster, the answer will be yours to find (wheel of fortune part 1)

Kaito leaps, cape flapping behind him.

2.) maybe the worst is behind (all this history part 5)

Chuuya feels the world fall out beneath his feet when he gets the news.

3.) double date

Shinichi squints at the painting in front of them. The bright pink and green lines across the canvas are so jarring they almost distract him from the movement of Tooyama swinging Ran’s hand in the corner of his vision. “It’s ugly,” he mumbles.

4.) don’t let me go, i don’t know where i am

Seth hasn’t been the same since they rescued him from Lia Fáil.

5.) pretend

“You were happy with me,” Chuuya snarls. “It was fucked, but we were happy.”

6.) i don’t even give a fuck what i’m doing (all this history part 4)

Osamu knocks, and opens the door to Mori’s private room at HQ, a bedroom that Dazai thinks he’s never actually spent a night in, but retires to when he’s working overtime. “You wanted to see me, Mori-sensei?”

7.) eight lights

Kaito lets out a strangled noise as Hakuba presses his hand against the gunshot wound in his shoulder.

8.) the cruelest secret ever kept

In this one, Shinichi never calls Ran.

9.) a heavy heart to carry

Arago has to hold his intestines. Through the pain and fog he remembers that he has to shove them back in his torso or else his skin and muscles grow back around them and he’ll have to cut himself open all over again to put them back inside.

10.) even the demons believe

Rin goes to church every Sunday morning.

11.) run.

Saguru takes a deep breath, closing his eyes just for a moment to ground himself. He takes note of the different sensations around him: the cool breeze on the open roof, the smell of rain that will likely come later in the night, the sounds of the busy street below with cops and Kid fans alike crowding the building, heard even over the clamor of cars on the surrounding roads. He opens his eyes, and steels himself for what will come next. “Take off your cape and jacket.”

12.) i’m tired of calling out your name into the space between us (all this history part 3)

“Keep an eye on him,” Mori says.

Keep an eye on him, as if Chuuya has any control over the absolute menace that is Dazai Osamu. As if Chuuya is the one holding the leash and not the other way around, as Dazai so often boasts. As if Chuuya could actually stop Dazai from killing himself, even if he did somehow manage to keep tabs on the bastard at all times.

13.) ain’t yer fault

Kudou clears his throat, but it sounds... Off. Heiji stops halfway out the door, squinting at him. “Ya just got somethin’ stuck in yer throat, or...?”

14.) visual noise

Heiji slides the door open to his room and steps in. “I know it ain’t snowin’ that bad, so s’not like I can use that as an excuse fer askin’ this, but ya wanna stay the night?”

15.) return (a guardian without a charge part 1)

The first thing he sees is Trico out of the corner of his vision. The rest is obscured by the dirt that his face is half-pressed into. She roars at something--the other tricos? He remembers there being more. He remembers...

16.) cheshire cat in wonderland (except atsushi is the cat and wonderland is anne’s room)

“So... how do you want to do this?” Atsushi asks nervously, glancing back at the door that leads out of Anne’s room.

17.) this world is not made for you

SAGURU IS THREE, and he’s diagnosed with autism. He doesn’t know what that means, and he won’t for a while.

18.) strike funny poses, keep my weapon hand low (all this history part 2)

Tsushima Shuuji’s first memory is of hiding.

19.) the literature of possibility

They both take the shot. Gide dies instantly. Sakunosuke finds himself on the floor with the wind knocked out of him. He waits for the pain, for the darkness to take him, for peace, finally, but he only feels a heavy weight pressing down.

20.) my brother taught me how to swim (all this history part 1)

Shirase finds her quickly after following rumors about a gifted girl with red hair running around Suribachi, half-naked and usually screaming, who steals things and destroys anyone who gets in her way with some kind of telekinetic powers or super strength or flight or... a number of different rumored abilities, actually. Shirase doesn’t know what to expect from her.

-

as for patterns i start in media res pretty much constantly because im allergic to slower buildup. i’ll even just start in the middle or at the end of conversations.i also very rarely paint a background within the first few paragraphs aside from “run.” lmao.

my favorite opening line is definitely “Arago has to hold his intestines.” it was a delight to put on paper at the time and it gives me just as much of a buzz when i read it now.

aight im tagging @yarrayora, @mickeymagpie, @beeonastrawberry, and @beedok

[tipsycad147]

Binding and Banishing 5

Ice Binding 1

Light a white candle and your favorite incense. Meditate a short while

on the problem. Invoke the Spirits of Protection for you and yours. Then

take a piece of brown paper, like from a grocery bag, on it use a lead

pencil to print and write the name of the offending person or people. If

unknown people are involved, also print and write, "and all persons unknown

that are causing harm to me!"

Cross off each line forcefully and say, forcefully,

" I freeze name(s) to be bound by this spell, unable to cause any more

harm to (name(s)! As I will, so mote it be! "

Then put a spoonful of used coffee grounds on the brown paper, fold it

small, and place it in the freezer. Leave it until the problem is

completely resolved. You may wish to  wrap a rubber band, string, twist tie, etc. to keep the coffee grounds from falling out of the paper. You can also use a ziploc bag. Be sure and burn the candle completely up. Don't  use that candle for a different purpose.

Ice Binding 2

Another way of ridding yourself of an unwanted negative influence is to write the name of the person or event at cause on a piec of paper. Concentrate on putting the negative energy into the paper. Place the piece of paper into a jar of water and put it into the freezer. Allow the paper to remain frozen in the water until all of the negative energy flow has completely stopped, then you can remove it, thaw it, and bury it in the ground.

NEW BEGINNING SPELL

Just before sunrise, go outside with some heather and a feather. Face East, light incense, and hold feather in hand while concentrating on the new day ahead as a new beginning. Say: Flight of feather, Scent of Heather Give me Cleansing With this beginning! Blow feather from hand and let the wind carry it away. Watch the sunrise and feel its rays cleansing you for the new day ahead. It is done.

PEACEFUL HOME

This spell is very good if there is a lot of turmoil or stress in the household. Do the following spell, and while doing so, remember to focus on your intent for a peaceful household. Sew a small pouch of lavender cloth. Place a small trinket in the pouch for each member of your household. Add to this a pinch each of lavender, rose and chamomile, before placing each pinch in the pouch, remember to hold it for a moment and REALLY focus, finally, add a small amethyst. Now, anoint a lavender or pink candle with peace oil(see recipes) and then light it. Sit in front of the candle and hold the pouch in your hands and whisper the following chant over it softly 3 times: Blessed Goddess, most gentle one, calm my home for me. Relieve all tension, send it far, so from stress we shall be free. Touch my family with peace and calm, and the sweetest softest bliss, Bless my home, Great Gentle Goddess, with your calming kiss. Set the pouch with the candle. Allow the candle to burn down completely. Hang the pouch in your home, preferably in the room where everyone gathers the most. Whenever tension seems to build, repeat the above chant 3 times and envision peace and tranquility radiating from the pouch and The Goddess.

Poppet Binding Spell

The purpose of this spell is to rid yourself of the negative energies of someone who is mentally or emotionally abusing you. If done properly, it will not harm the object of the spell nor will it affect his or her daily life in any way. It will simply make the person powerless to mentally or emotionally harm you.

Preform when Moon is dark

Materials:

Small cloth doll,(poppet) leave the head unstitched until you are ready to begin the ritual Needle and thread

Some personal item from the person you want to bind (fingernail clippings, hair, handwriting sample)

Black ribbon

Black candle

Cauldron or other fireproof container

Sterilized needle

Piece of parchment paper and pen or quill

One candle at each quarter (optional)

Ritual:

Call the quarters - I like to use candles at each quarter to form a circle of fire for extra protection. Light the black candle Concentrating deeply on the person you are binding, place the personal object inside the head of the doll and sew it shut.Tie the black ribbon around the poppet's head, signifying the binding of that person.

'With harm to none, my will be done

I hereby bind you (name of person)

Your words cannot harm me

Your thoughts cannot harm me

You cannot harm me'

Continue chanting this or something like it until you feel power surging through you. Visualize the person helpless to slander or verbally and mentally abuse you while you are chanting.

~ Now, to bind the spell ~

If you have a sigil or a craft name, sign it on the small piece of paper. If not, sign your own full name. If others are working the ritual with you, they too should sign the paper. With the sterilized needle, prick one of your fingers and put a small drop of blood over your signature. Again, if others are working with you, they should place a drop of blood over their signatures. (using a different needle, of course) Fold the paper, light it on fire and drop it into the cauldron (which should be on a heat-proof surface!). Meditate on the flames until the paper completely burns away. If you are working with a group, join hands at this point and feel the power surging around the circle as the spell is bound. Ground and center Release the circle. Thank the Goddess and God for their protection and power Bury the doll as far away from you as possible within the next few days.

RID OF NASTY ASTRAL SLIME

After Chakra cleansings in the evening by the ocean or a large body of water like a river or lake or pond. As the sun sets so your bad fortune will drain away. Hold a stone or object that you find and feel is appropriate and project all the nasty slimy and inky feeling you picked up from this person into it. Really focus on letting all your emotions about it as well and let them flow into the rock. When you have done this say: "I release this astral slime And all darkness which is not mine I let go of all that may have harmed My aura is bright all negativity released And I am charmed" Now throw the rock into the water preferably as the sun drops below the horizon and be conscious of its fading light taking away your bad feelings from this person. You can do this spell on then first night of the waning moon (after a full moon) for seven nights if you really feel tainted. Also Place 1/2 cup vinegar, a bunch of fresh or rosemary and 1 tablespoon of sea salt in your bath. Light a white and a blue candle. Imagine yourself surrounded by blue light, giving you positive energy. Visualize all of the negative energy and astral slime leaving your body through every pore.

SPELL BINDER

This is best used at the end of a spoken or written spell. This adds a certain boost to the releasing of energy. It also works best if you are wearing a Pentagram you have attuned to yourself. Speak these word with all the fibers of your body while releasing the spell's energy: By the Pentagram I wear, Water, Fire, Earth, and Air, Ruled by Spirit as All should be As I speak So Mote It Be!

Spell Breaking or Reversal

from Tesa on the kitchen witch list

This spell is performed to either reverse  a spell you have cast, or  to break a spell cast by another.

What you need:

Your cauldron

A black or purple candle (purple for spell reversal,  black for spell  breaking)

During the full or waning moon, place the purple or black candle  inside your cauldron. Fill your cauldron about half way with water.The candle should be at least as tall as your cauldron or slightly  taller. Focus on the task at hand- imagine the energy from the spell  you are reversing or breaking is forming before you into a large ball  of light. Imagine that the energy is now moving

toward the candle and  inhabiting it. Light the candle as you are focusing

and say, "Break the spell, break the curse, the spell which was cast

is now reversed." Now imagine the energy slowly disappearing and that it no

longer exists. Allow the candle to burn down until it fizzles out in the water. Say, "It is done." Pour the water outside in a stream or into the

ground away from your house. You can bury the candle or throw it out with

the trash.

SPELL TO RID ONESELF OF A BOTHERSOME SPIRIT

Say "What is dark be filled with light, remove this spirit from my sight." Before starting place your hand before you, and start the flow of power out of your hand and then say the words, letting the envisioned blue-white light from your power hand fill the room or house or any other place that you might be.

TO FREE A HOUSE FROM HAUNTING

"The Presence that stands Upon the stairs The unseen hands That move the chairs. The lights that play Across the wall, The stains that stay, The plates that fall, The mist , the chill, The wandering scents This gentle spell must speed them hence. At midnight, set A table neat, With cup and plate, And wine and meat, Invite the ghost To sit and feast, As any host Should urge a guest. Presently, clear The meal away, Then open the door and softly say- "Quick or dead, Thou art fed, Cease to grieve And take thy leave" Bid him depart But should he remain Be calm, take heart And feast him again.

CHARM OF THE BEAST SPELL

-- mugwort angelica 3 hairs of an imposing beast black cloth oil of frankincense or myrrh Mix the mugwort and angelica in equal parts, add to it the 3 hairs and bind together in a black cloth. Add a few drops of the oil onto the cloth. then say " He who is strong, he who is mighty Lend thine power to this charm Demons turn on your heels and run" Draw over it a pentagram and the charms of banishment. Burn the mixture to drive away the spirits that ail you. Burn it in your home or room you wish to exorcise. Bury it before your doorstep and no demon shall touch you nor enter. Wear the charm or hide it in the roof to ensure safety against any ills.

TO BANISH AN UNWELCOME ENTITY

Speak directly to the entity, or in the room most affected, saying: It is time to leave here; all is well. There is nothing here for you now, You must be gone Go now, go ~ complete your passing, Go, and with our blessing fare well. Farewell. Remove everything of the previous occupant ~ writing and photos in particular. If there is anything you wish to keep, purify it with salt or incense, saying: With this I purify you of the past Of hurt and memories Keeping only Love

https://crimsonwolfe.tripod.com/id4.html

[filmhistorymptv1145]

Examine the ways in which films deal with social, political, cultural, and economic issues, both in direct and indirect ways. What is the political impact of cinema on audiences around the world and how do we see it? Should filmmakers directly engage with these kinds of issues or do so subtly? Discuss any of the films we have watched so far from this perspective, and draw upon other examples if necessary.

Social commentary exists in many forms. We read it in books and hear it in music of every genre. It does not discriminate, covering every issue from politics to economics. As film grew into its own medium, it became a new platform for artists to utilize in portraying their visions of the world. Whether they be whimsical and over the top, or down to earth and stunningly realistic, movies grew to become one of the largest entertainment industries. Directors and screenwriters, whether inspired by or displeased with their surroundings, came to use film as a method of sharing their thoughts and emotions. Be it through direct or indirect means, they would criticize politicians and governments to historic and current world events. Certain countries were more limited than others in controlling the content of films, pushing creators to become even more crafty and thoughtful when conveying their opinions on screen.

With the Motion Picture Production Code in full effect in the US, film makers who wanted to touch upon political issues in American society had to do so in a very subtle way. Take Force of Evil, for instance. On the outside, it reads like a classic gangster movie that was commonly seen in the 1940’s. However, it is deeply critical of the money and power-hungry American underbelly of society, digging into the Capitalism that has overtaken the country even in these earlier years. Irony is found in the two main characters, a pair of brothers. Joe is a lawyer who runs dirty deals with gang members, using his education and career to further their unsavory deeds. His brother Leo believes that his own line of work is earnest and respectable, when in reality it is not. Leo runs a ‘bank’ for the small number rackets that exist in New York City, mainly centered around bets that are placed on horse races. Leo strongly feels that he is not as morally corrupted as his brother, despite being in charge of an illegal business.

The mise-an-scene of the film is what really drives home the underlying critique of money and its corrupting force. Joe takes Leo’s former secretary Doris for a walk on Wall Street, taking her through a church cemetery. The church building is completely dwarfed by the towering buildings of Wall Street’s capitalist businesses. The implied message here is that money is the new God, that the hold it has over people is nearly as strong as religion.

For Polonsky, who was put on the blacklist by HUACC for his leftist ideals, this message is as true to him as it gets. In Polonsky’s eyes, people no longer feared God as much as they did losing money in capitalist America. Considering what the entire world had just lost three years prior in World War Two, it is almost insulting to showcase people like Joe and his associates on screen. Money grubbing is not what America wanted its people to think they had fought and died for, just the opposite. Justice and morality is what America wants people to think it stands for, not capitalism and the desire to supersede the people in their lives. Force of Evil is astoundingly subtle and simultaneously gritty, holding true to the film noir standard of the times.

At the end of the film, when Leo is killed by Joe’s nefarious associates, Joe goes to retrieve his brother’s body. Stairwells are used as a metaphor for an internal moral struggle. In a voiceover, Joe laments ‘I just kept going down and down. It felt like I was going to the bottom of the world.’ The decrepit area beneath the bridge is the exact opposite of the organized, shining city above. Finding his brother’s body is Joe’s moral rock bottom, both literally and metaphorically. It is a slap in the face for Joe, stripping away all of the justifications he has held for his less than moral behavior and actions.

Polonsky cuts to Doris as Joe says, ‘He is dead,’ juxtaposing the image of a living woman with the realization that his brother Leo is gone. It is jarring, but it also suggests a dual motivation rising within Joe. Inspired by Doris’ love and Leo’s death, Joe turns to make his way back up the enormous staircase. This finale leaves the viewers with some hope that Joe can possibly redeem himself after his selfish actions, but will it be as quickly as he ran down the stairs towards his brother’s corpse?

One wouldn’t think that in 1950’s America, a bold film would tackle such a hot social issue: equal rights for African Americans. Especially with the Motion Picture Production Code still in full effect. Typically, when reflecting on movies from that decade, our minds are filled with images of romantic melodramas, as well as musicals and other bright, cheery content. The Defiant Ones not only tackled the issue of racism in America, but it also set the standard for the ‘buddy’ films that are commonplace today. Two escaped convicts are chained together at the wrist, one white and one African American. The film goes back and forth between Johnny and Cullen’s escapades whilst on the run, and the officers who have been assigned to track them down and take them back to prison. The tone of the film is established in the first few minutes, when one of the officers refers to Cullen as the n-word. Later on in the movie, when Johnny and Cullen are apprehended by a group of townspeople after attempting to rob their general store, they start stringing up two nooses. Johnny is mortified, looking around at the townsfolk with terror in his eyes. ‘You can’t lynch me, I’m a white man!’ he pleads. The message is clear: lynching is something white people do to black people.

Not only does the movie look at the harsh reality of life for African Americans at the time, but the relationship that develops between Johnny and Cullen is in itself socially and politically charged. Over the course of the movie, the two convicts go from being at odds with one another to developing a close friendship. Not even Johnny’s mistake to trust the woman they holed up with can break their bond. Johnny leaves the woman behind to rescue Cullen from the dangerous swamps. At the film’s end, Cullen is cradling Johnny, who is wounded from a gunshot to the chest. They are collapsed on the grass together, sharing a cigarette while Cullen sings and the police detective approaches to apprehend them.

Not only has Johnny moved past his racist ideals, but one could also say that their positioning at the end of the film is borderline sexual. The way Cullen holds Johnny is almost as if it is in a lover’s embrace. Cullen’s portrayal in the film is especially bold, since he was portrayed to be well-spoken, intelligent and overall good. A far cry from films like Birth of a Nation where African Americans are put in the most negative light possible, portrayed as thieves and rapists while the Ku Klux Klan members are seen as heroic and noble. The Defiant Ones, supported by Sidney Poitier’s phenomenal acting, gave rise to a much more positive role for African American actors to portray on screen. Though the ‘righteous Black man’ did end up becoming a trope in Hollywood for many years, it was still a positive step in the right direction for civil rights.

Outside of the US, films were not constricted by strict standards of morality and content. They were much freer to openly criticize the societal norms and political atmospheres that were in place at the time of their creation. Hiroshima Mon Amour is a French made film that touches on the devastation of the nuclear bomb drops in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. While the movie itself seems to be mainly centered around a couple who cannot be together due to extenuating circumstances and their own inner demons, it is also direct commentary on how Japan remembered the bombings, and how different it is from the perspective of the rest of the world.

The first ten minutes of the film are composed of an almost poetry-like sequence of shots of Hiroshima before and after the bombs paired together with the two main character’s voice overs. The characters, a French woman, and a Japanese man, are in bed together in a loving embrace. The opening shot features ash falling onto their naked bodies, which we can infer mimics the death ash that fell onto Hiroshima after the atomic bomb’s detonation. This frame cross fades into nearly the same image of the naked couple, but the ash is gone from their bedroom.

The woman is stating that she knows all about what happened in Hiroshima, from having seen the newsreels that aired after the bombs had been dropped. The man argues that she has no idea what really happened. She states that in the newsreels she viewed, bugs were already crawling up through the debris and dirt on the second day and that flowers were growing all over Hiroshima just a few days after the bomb had been dropped. This voiceover is paired with the footage of a young boy being treated for burns and lesions on his skin, the exact opposite of new life springing forth from the ashes. The obvious pain that the boy is enduring is starkly contrasted to how the French woman describes all the different kinds of flowers that began blooming after the bombs had been dropped.

The Hiroshima that exists in the French woman’s mind is completely different from the Japanese man’s. This speaks to the overall theme of the movie, that collective and individual memories, as well as one’s identity can be corrupted. That the human brain is not a perfect organ and at times, it can even be our worst enemy. The French woman protests that she has seen Hiroshima. She had been to its museums, she knew how it had been over ten-thousand degrees in Peace Square at the time of detonation, and she had seen the films that had been made about the devastation. Her partner states over and over during this intro sequence that, ‘You saw nothing in Hiroshima. Nothing.’ Her experience of the disaster when compared to his is hollow, a clever way of illustrating how two people can think of the same event so differently.

Even if the trend of filmmaking has changed, shifting from film noir and melodrama to the blockbuster and action movies, social commentary still persists throughout the media. As the world around us changes and moves forward (be it for better or worse), so does the real-life content that directors and screenwriters are inspired by. Seeing politically and socially charged movies, whether they are extremely subtle or right up in your face, helps us both cope with world events and immortalize what occurred. As if to say, ‘We were here. We saw what took place. This is how we remember it.’

[riftimagines]

Spirit Blossom!Thresh x Shadow Assassin!Kayn

This is literally just smut with a hint of plot. I’m not the best at writing smut but I was inspired to write this after someone, you know who you are :3, introduced me to this ship and we shared a lot of headcanons with them in different AUs but this is the one that came out. LOL. Also I recently made a A03 acc. called RiftWrites where I’m probably going to post my one shots there because Tumblr is kinda annoying with posting long stories RIP.

Warnings: Smut, Blood mentions, This has Thresh ffs XD

The smell of blood and death thickly floated in the air. The invading Noxians stood no chance against the blurry shadow that swept through the field and cleaved through them like animals for slaughter. It was like a creature from their worst nightmares but this creature was no creature but in fact, a man. The sheer speed and fluidity of his moments made him look like a living shadow, something that was created by magic and in a way was. The gifted shadow magic Sheida Kayn possessed was only enhanced further by the defeat of the Darkin scythe, Rhaast. Its defeat gave him unholy amounts of power and transformed the young man into a terrifying shadow assassin. His power showed on this day as there was more blood then grass on this once pristine grassland. Bodies lay askew where flowers once bloomed and from the corpses rose a particular bloom. A Spirit Blossom. This year was the year they had returned after thirteen years and now sadly they would leave again and with them the souls of the dead of this land both Ionian and Noxian. The sky began to fill with the blossoms of the dead Noxians and began to float away, good riddance. Now to get rid of what little was left.

In the not so far off distance a force was awakened. The sounds of lost spirits called out and from the realm of the dead came a seeker of said souls, a demon that sought to collect all the spirits and show them their true potential. Its unnatural purple skin and white hair contrasted against the natural hues of the forest. It seemed not to care as it stood out for anyone to see its vision became set as the brilliant flowers in the sky sang to collect them.

“No worries little spirits, your safe with me now.” Its reverberated voice rang out. From its left side it brought forth a lantern in the shape of a demons face almost similar to his own. A smile curled upon its lips from beneath its golden jaw plating as the Spirit Blossoms came down and closer to him. The spirits are completely unaware of what was happening when the lanterns mouth suddenly opened and began to pull all the souls into it. So many spirits to gather today, like harvesting wheat freshly cut in fact they seemed like they were. The Spirit Blossoms were fresh, very fresh, and seemed to becoming from a certain direction, interesting. Curious as to where they were coming from the demon begins to walk towards the origin of all these blossoms while gathering them a long the way. It did not take long for the purple hued evil to find the source. A battlefield, how quaint. There had been much delectable suffering and pain. Ah, if only he had heard the screams, the sweet tones of misery. As if on command of thought, the sounds of screaming and wailing called, now that was a lovely sound he could not resist. The siren sounds cried out like the most beautiful chorus and soon lead to its singers.

The bodies fell left and right as a blur of blue and darkness swooped through the poor mortals and razed them. There was no mercy, only pain just like the demon liked it. Its bright lavender eyes became transfixed at the lithe form doing a dance of death leaving blood and agony in its wake. Who was that glorious creature? It did not seem to notice the demon at the edge of the battle watching every deadly moment in awe. The dance continued for a few moments longer before the final howls of despair fluttered into nothingness. The shadow finally stops and reveals to the demon a divine looking man. He had never seen a human look so, alluring. His pale skin tattooed with dark lines that traveled from his eyes across his face, down his chest and completely engulfed his forearms. Such a lovely being, he must know more about this beauteous agent of death, no time like the present to make a blunt entrance. With a couple spins of its sickle it launches it at high speeds to the target and it snags its very soul.

Kayn is completely confused as a small scythe attached to a thick cord wraps around him. It should have been easy to cut but the cords were seemingly harder then steel and did not break, instead they pulled harder as the strangest looking fiend he’d ever seen comes flying at him. For a moment he feels panic as his powers don’t let him escape, the magic cord holds him still. No attack ever came though, just the sound of evil laughter fills his ears. He looks at the monster before him with wide eyes. What was this thing?

“How adorable, so confused and so scared. I won’t hurt you though little one. I am Thresh, collector of the Spirit Blossoms. Do not let my frightening visage fool you, I am but a humble guide to these poor spirits and bring them up to their full potential. It seems though you have found your full potential early, so tell me what are you my dear?” He coos softly. Kayn was having none of that though.

“I am Sheida Kayn, and I care not what you are monster I will not obey you!” Kayn’s scythe came barreling towards Thresh’s neck and had he been anyone else he would have been dead. The demon sighed then pulled hard on the chains sending Kayn into a tree and his scythe out of his hands.

“A feisty one aren’t you? I’m not surprised but make no mistake, I do know how to put wild spirits back in their place.” He says as he picks up the shadow assassin by the throat, pushes him against the tree and squeezes slightly. A sudden moan that catches both Kayn and Thresh off guard. A wicked grin spreads upon the demons face and Kayn seizes up. He squeezes again experimentally and again the soft moan flutters into his ears. Oh now that is a nice sound. Kayn suddenly feels fear, a feeling he had not felt in a long while, and tries to phase though the tree only to be stopped by the white cord wrapped around his waist keeping him from escaping.

“ Now, now, little pet, don’t leave so soon, we just discovered something new! Here lets make this more interesting shall we? I believe the blossoms from this field should be enough.” Suddenly the demonic lantern opens up again and the Spirit Blossoms make their way inside. It’s eyes begin to blaze and the demon removes its hand from Kayn’s throat to call upon its power. A pulse of energy burst forth from Thresh and five ghostly purple walls seemingly arise from nowhere. The more startling part wasn’t the box that surrounded them now but the fact that the demon was changing. Its dark purple skin became a light alabaster, hair a dark black with purple hues, and its horrifying mask was now replaced with a gorgeous man. It was so jarring to see something so terrifying turn into something so beautiful. Thresh smiled smugly at Kayn, no one could resist this form, perhaps now he’d get more of those lovely sounds.

“Ah, how is this? Not to bad if I do say so my self. Now where were we?” His hand returns to grasp at his neck this time though his other hand begins to graze his sharp claws down his chest. A nail catches his skin and leaves a little scratch it its wake making Kayn hiss. Thresh’s eyes glaze slightly at the sound of pain, so heavenly, he needs more. Dark purple nails trace all over Kayn’s torso leaving more cuts and scratches all over but none enough to be agonizing or lethal, Thresh is having too much fun with this one for him to die yet. Through the rough ministrations on his body Kayn’s breath had hitched and his nerves turned on to high. Every touch was doing something to him that wasn’t really pain. A tight, warm feeling starts to form in his lower abdomen. Thresh can see a redness spreading upon Kayn’s face.

“Enjoying your self? It’s rude to keep all that pleasure to yourself you know?” With unseen swiftness the small gap between them is closed and their lips are intertwined. It’s a rough and hungry kiss almost like he couldn’t get enough. Kayn had not experienced much physical affection but this was something greater then those little kisses he’d seen couples share. They are both bare chest to bare chest breathing hard into each other until Kayn could not breath. They break panting hard and Thresh’s eyes are fully glazed over and glowing deviously. In a split second his mouth is on Kayn’s exposed neck and is biting down hard. Kayn yelps loudly then goes into a deep moan as Thresh works the bite into what will be a deep dark bruise. The tight feeling rushes downward to his groin and an involuntary buck of his hips follows. The demon stops biting his neck and moves up to nip at the shell of his ear before whispering low and deep.

“Such an eager little spirit. You want me to claim you don’t you? Want me to collect your body and soul?” Kayn can’t speak the sheer amount of arousal is drowning his mind but he can feel himself nod and his hands try to pull Thresh closer. The cord unfurls its self from his waist and find new residence binding his hands instead now. Thresh raises his hands and the cord upwards to a branch to keep Kayn’s hands up.

“Yes, I know you want me but you’ll get me as I give myself to you. No sooner, no later.” He purrs lowly. With hands now bound and pinned above his head it gave the devious soul collector free reign of Kayn’s body. His talons raked across his body and mouth working anywhere that looked like a tender spot. Scratches and bruises start to decorate pale skin and leave their new owner writhing in pleasure. The firmness in his pants was agonizing, far more so then the slightly bloody cuts. Thresh was in a no better state. His normally composed visage was flustered across his face all the way to the tips of his pointed ears. His own member throbbing for attention.

Not wasting anymore time those claws were put to the test as they tore through the thick cords that held up Kayn’s pants effectively loosening and dropping them. Kayn gasps as his warm, hardened nether regions are exposed to the elements, clear fluid already seeping from the end. The demon growls deeply at the sight and is quick to rid himself of his binding clothing. Tossing them aside he strokes his manhood gently, electing a rumbling purr from his chest. Kayn can see through half lidded eyes the demons length and a shiver runs down his spine. He isn’t familiar with others genitals but he is bigger then himself by a bit and quite thick. Thresh moves in again and lifts Kayn’s hips up to line up before pushing in. Kayn’s eyes go wide at the foreign felling of being filled. He’s moaning, writhing and trying desperately to get accustomed to this new sensation. Tears start to pool and fall down his face which are then licked up by the eager demon.

“Easy now my pet, just relax. Let me handle everything.” He coos into his ear and leaves a kiss where a stray tear is falling. The pleasantries are gone in moments though as Thresh begins to move. The pace starts slow but then begins to build and soon its a quick relentless pace that leaves Kayn completely breathless. His whole body feels limp as if all his strength has left him, the strength of the demon alone is the only thing keeping him up. Every harsh thrust seems to hit a spot that has his eyes rolling back and him moaning and gasping loudly. The sounds and the sensation of Kayn tightening around him sends Thresh on a marking spree, covering as much skin as he can into deep colors. It’s all so much for Kayn and in a moment of bliss his sight blurs and he can finally feel himself release. He can hear a deep animalistic growl and for a few seconds his hips are grabbed so hard he swore the bone would bruise as Thresh rams into him sending Kayn’s blurred vision into pure white and his hearing completely gone. The whole world fades for who knows how long before his vision is restored and the demon is slowly pulling out of him. He now hangs there on the tree limply, unable to will his now exhausted muscles to move even an inch. A whine escapes him as Thresh fixes himself up.

“Now, now, I know you miss me. I’ll get to you in a moment.” He places his clothing back into place and almost seems like nothing happened to him at all. He goes to the side of the tree and binds the forgotten scythe to his back before coming around and pulling Kayn’s pants back up. As soon as the cord to the sickle is removed Kayn drops like a rock right into Thresh’s arms. His body is too weak to fight him off and lets his head lull onto the demons shoulder. He smiles down at the tired human in his arms and places a small kiss upon his crown.

“You may rest now dear. I won’t let anything happen to you. Your mine now you know, nothing will take you from me and you certainly won’t get away from me from now on. So get used to being where you are for your going to be there for the rest of eternity.” He says all too gleefully while holding him tightly. Kayn thinks for a moment of what he’s done. He’s now bound to a soul taking demon, but a soul taking demon that has given him more attention in about an hour then he’s received in his entire life. Thats not entirely to bad he thinks. He looks up at the handsome face that looks down at him with a smirk and dips down to place another kiss, this time to his lips, that’s most certainly something he could get used to.

[lady-divine-writes]

More than Words ... but They're Nice Anyway (Rated PG)

Summary: Aziraphale is distressed when Crowley won't admit to saying 'I love you' ... even though he's been saying it for weeks. (1559 words)

Read on AO3.

“I love you.”

“What?” Aziraphale looks up from his plate of crepes and across the table at Crowley busy buttering his slice of toast and, by all outward appearances, paying Aziraphale absolutely no mind.

“Hmm?” Crowley mutters, setting his first slice aside and starting on his second.

“Wh---what did you say?”

“When?”

“Just now?” Aziraphale glances around the dining room on the off chance someone else is about, maybe hiding in the shadows.

Someone who … loves him?

“Would you please pass the marmalade?” Crowley asks, extending a hand.

Aziraphale’s brow crinkles, curious how in the world he heard I love you if Crowley asked for the marmalade. None of those words sound even remotely alike!

“Yes,” Aziraphale says, handing the marmalade jar across the table. “Of course.”

“Thanks.”

“Is … is that what you said?”

“When?”

Aziraphale sighs in exasperation. “Just now?”

“Yeah. Why?” Crowley’s eyes meet Aziraphale’s. “Did you hear something else?”

Aziraphale holds Crowley’s gaze several long minutes before he decides he’s being ridiculous. Crowley has never exactly been shy about any of his feelings. If he loved Aziraphale, he’d simply come out and say it.

Obviously, that’s not the case here.

“No,” Aziraphale lies, returning to his crepes, his appetite gone. “No, I … I heard nothing.”

***

“I love you.”

“Wh-what!?” Aziraphale yelps, fighting to be heard over pedestrians screaming in terror as Crowley squeals around a corner and jettisons straight into traffic.

“What?” Crowley returns. “What was that?”

Aziraphale white knuckles the dash harder than required for him to keep his seat, frustrated that this volley of words above the screeching of rubber must continue since Crowley refuses to slow down and drive safely enough to engage in normal conversation.

“What … did … you … say?” Aziraphale asks through gritted teeth.

“Oh.” Crowley’s brow furrows, his eyes glued to the road as he maneuvers between cars, nearly clipping the curb when he passes a rather large lorry on the wrong side. “I said hold onto your seat. The ride’s about to get bumpy.”

Aziraphale shoots Crowley a side-long look. ‘That’s not what he said!’ he thinks. ‘That’s nowhere near what he said!’ Even if he didn’t say what Aziraphale thinks he said, he only spoke three words. Not that Aziraphale was facing him directly. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road for a second when Crowley drives in case he needs to miracle some poor innocent out of the road. Aziraphale caught Crowley’s lips move in the reflection of the rearview.

But his sleuthing gets knocked clear of his thoughts when Crowley veers to the left, throwing Aziraphale across the seat and into the door. Aziraphale swallows hard, pushing down the heart that’s lodged in his throat ready to propel itself out his mouth and escape this demonic death trap.

“I’m sorry but … it’s a bit … too late … for that … my dear.”

***

“I love …”

“What?” Aziraphale rounds in front of Crowley, stopping him in his tracks. “What is it you’re going to say? And be honest now! Because if you’re not saying what I think you’re saying, I might just be going insane!”

Crowley blinks behind dark lenses at the white fire glowing in the angel’s blue eyes despite them being outdoors in the afternoon and surrounded by humans. “I … I was about to say …”

“Yes?” Aziraphale leans in aggressively, forcing Crowley back a step.

“… that I love walking through the park with you. Reminds me of old times. The good old times, anyway.” Crowley pauses, waits for a response. He grows uncomfortable in the silence under the scrutiny of Aziraphale’s piercing glare. “You know, before we knew that feeding ducks bread was bad for them?”

Aziraphale huffs at Crowley’s attempt at humor, but only slightly. “Are you certain,” he says, enunciating each word carefully, “that that’s what you were going to say?”

“Yes?” Crowley replies unconvincingly, and with the addition of an emphatic nod. “That’s exactly what I was going to say. Why? Is there something the matter?”

His answer infuriates Aziraphale, deep down to his core.

A joke!

He’s treating this like a joke!

How can he be so cruel?

He’s a demon, yes, but this isn’t just run-of-the-mill evil.

It’s Evil.

There’s a great many things Aziraphale can stand Crowley joking about, but not this. He’s about to tell him that, too, in no uncertain terms; give him a lecture he won’t likely soon forget. But when Crowley offers the angel his arm in a gentlemanly fashion and knocks him a little bow, it topples Aziraphale’s defenses.

Aziraphale can’t fault Crowley for his feelings … or lack thereof.

He can’t be angry at him because his pride is bruised.

He takes the offered arm and winds his through.

“No, my dear,” Aziraphale says, returning to his place at Crowley’s side, matching his steps when they start strolling again. “Nothing at all.”

Aziraphale breathes in deep and exhales slow. He’s not being fair. He doesn’t know that Crowley doesn’t love him. If he didn’t love him, would he have begged him to go off to the stars as often as he did? And if that’s the case, Aziraphale doesn’t need the words if they’re what Crowley means to say. He and Crowley are supernatural entities. Their thoughts and emotions can’t be measured on the scale of common, human words. Why, he’d heard a passage in a charming older movie Tracy made him watch that explains it perfectly.

“Words, words, they're all used up, they're hard to say. They've all been wasted on the shampoo commercials, and the ads, and the flavorings. All the beautiful words. I mean, how can you love a floor wax? How can you love a diaper? How can I use the same word about you that someone else uses about a stuffing? I'm exploding with love for you and I can't use the word!”

And he was right. The distinguished older man with the unfortunately large nose who recited those words was right. What he and Crowley have goes beyond words – especially mortal words. No need for those overused and abused words!

I love you? Who needs them!? Not him! Not at all!

But once, he thinks with a heavy heart as he squeezes Crowley closer, just once … it would be so nice to hear them.

***

“Explain to me again – what are you taking me to see? Because I don’t think I understand.”

“It’s called Sixty Second Hamlet,” Crowley explains for the fifth time but with the same giddy chuckle as the first.

“So, we’re driving to a theater over two hours away to watch a performance of Hamlet that’s only a minute long?”

“Yup! And it’s worth every mile, I’ll tell you that! Someone finally figured out a way to make that damned play a helluva lot less dreary. Just wait till you see it! You’re gonna love it!”

And there’s that word, hanging in the air, directed at something other than him. And as much as he swore to himself that he wouldn’t let it bother him … it bothers him.

“Crowley?”

“Yes, angel?”

Aziraphale hangs back a step as Crowley leads him to his car, giving himself enough time and space to say what he needs to say before they go any further. Not just for now and not just for today, but for every day forward. “Before we do anything, I … I wanted to say something.”

Crowley stops with his hand on the door handle and turns around. “Yes?”

“I …” Aziraphale looks at the demon in front of him – six-plus-feet of conceit and ego and swagger that, despite himself, Aziraphale can’t see ever getting over if he lost him. Sure, they don’t need the words. But he wants the words. And if he’s the only one willing to say them then … so be it. “I love you.”

The blank expression that answers that declaration downright terrifies Aziraphale. If Crowley were human, Aziraphale swears he’d expect him to turn tail and run, leave his Bentley behind in favor of a swifter, more expedient exit on foot. Being the insufferable demon he is, he doesn’t react - not for a while. But then he grins ever so slowly, clapping his hands together in delight. “Finally!”

Aziraphale’s head jerks, taken aback by that response. “What? What do you mean finally?”

“I’ve been saying I love you for weeks, but I couldn’t get you to say it back!”

Aziraphale’s lower jaw drops of its own accord. “But … but I … I thought I was imagining it! When I asked you to repeat it, you’d say something else!”

“Because you looked so confused. A few times, you looked angry. I thought that maybe you … you know … didn’t want to hear me say …”

“Hear you say … what?” Aziraphale fishes.

Crowley’s triumphant grin becomes softer, fonder. “I love you.”

Aziraphale nods. He’s fighting not to smile. After everything Crowley has put him through, he doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

But he’s losing.

“You’re quite the idiot,” he says, his lips twitching uncontrollably at the corners. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Maybe.” Crowley steps away from his car and wraps his arms around Aziraphale’s waist. “But I’m your idiot. And there’s no getting rid of me now.”